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rxreid · 2 months ago

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hi!!! would you be up for writing a soft dom bellamy x best friend reader fic/oneshot? maybe he gets jealous when he sees other guys flirting/talking about y/n in a sexual way. and bellamy being protective, pulled reader away and confesses his love to her?

realms of friendship - b.b

also requested: “hi gurll i didn’t know 100 writers were still active you’re feeding me bc no one writes bellamy smut anymore 😞 i just need porn with a plot please surprise me and keep em comin !” + “hi this is my first time asking but can u plsss write blake smut. like literally anything im so deprived of him im begging.”

warnings: SMUT! unprotected p in v, that’s pretty much it. brief mention of a gun?? but not kinky. technically takes place in s3 of the 100.

word count: 5.1k

characterisation: reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns & feminine terms.

comments: here u go anons!! i hope this is okay…it’s far from the best thing i’ve written, but i wanted to write a bellamy fic whilst i was sure i had some free time. it might be a little ooc, only because i’m not super used to writing for him yet. nevertheless, feel free to send in more request for blurbs/hcs/fics! the first two are more likely to be answered quickly <3. if you don’t wanna read the smut, there’s a divider before it gets spicy :)

“I just think if you popped a couple of buttons open, maybe let your hair loose once in a while, the guys in camp would be all over you,” Jasper shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans into the backseat of the rover, his lips carrying that same ‘carefree’ smirk he’s had since getting out of Mount Weather.

Murphy snorts, sitting opposite Jasper in the trunk. “As if,” he snickers, his nose crinkling in amusement. “The guys in camp are already all over her, she’s just too frigid to give them a try, ain’t that right?” he grins, leaning forward to rest his hands on the leather of her seat, placing his chin on the edge as he peeks into the front. She internally grimaces at his proximity, twisting in her spot to lean against the window, her brows slightly furrowed at the two boys.

“Shut up,” she grumbles quietly, mirroring Jasper’s position and folding her arms, the expression on her face betraying her distaste for the topic of conversation. She's aware that the two boys are purposely trying to rile her up, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with when they get like this.

In the backseat, Jasper kicks his feet up, somehow managing to stay upright despite the bumps in the track as Bellamy roughly drives the four of them back to camp. “Yeah, right. Like who? You?” he muses teasingly, raising a brow at Murphy, as if daring him to take their game further.

“Hell yeah, me,” Murphy retorts cockily, still flashing his borderline predatory grin to her. “With a face that pretty and an ass like that, I can’t understand why she’s not been snatched up,” he smirks, his words complimentary in his own mind yet being perceived entirely different by the recipient. He keeps his gaze on her as he talks to Jasper, briefly glancing over at Bellamy in the driver's seat. The older boy’s nose is turned up in disgust as he listens to the conversation, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent from his grip on the steering wheel.

She scrunches her nose up too, her cheeks heating up at Murphy’s words, feeling a wave of embarrassment pass through her body. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, and he takes it upon himself to lean further over her seat, his chest fully pressed against the back. “What? Not even a thank you?” he taunts, his grin getting wider at the way she squirms under his stare. “Eh, whatever. You look better with your mouth shut. Plus, I can think of other ways to keep it occupied,” he snickers crudely, lifting his arm as he begins to reach his hand around her chair.

In an instant, Bellamy’s fingers are clasping Murphy’s wrist, his grip too tight to pass as merely playful. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, his voice stern as he pushes him into the back of the rover once more. “Back off, Murphy, you don’t need to be so close to her,” he mutters gruffly, his lips slightly pursed into a scowl.

A huff escapes Murphy’s lips as he’s roughly pushed back, thudding into the seat opposite Jasper again, who’s tickled by the entire situation. “Ow. Jeez, Blake, loosen up a little. She knows I’m just fuckin’ with her,” he grumbles, his thumb and pointer finger wrapping around his wrist to soothe the ache of Bellamy’s previous grip. “She’s dead weight, anyway. Dunno why we bring her on these trips if we can’t have some fun with her.”

Bellamy glares at Murphy through the windscreen mirror, his protectiveness for the girl beside him flaring up. He knows he should probably tone it down to avoid suspicion of any deeper feelings for his best friend, but he can’t let her be mercilessly teased when he knows she won't stand up for herself. Plus, the insinuation of her friends bringing her on supply runs purely to sleep with her makes his skin crawl. “Stop being a fucking perv,” he snaps, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly as his hand returns to it.

Murphy furrows his brows, clearly displeased with Bellamy’s interruption of his fun. “I’m not bein’ a perv,” he retorts, his voice laced with offence, “I’m just lettin’ the lady know that she’s got options if she wants it,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes over dramatically, his ego bruised.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t want that, and she sure as hell doesn’t want you,” Bellamy grits, pressing down on the gas a little harsher, his mood souring at the thought of spending any longer in the vehicle whilst Murphy shamelessly flirts with his friend. friend.

“Now shut up for the rest of the drive or I’m throwing you out and you’re walking back to camp. Both of you.”

Her eyes go slightly wide at Bellamy’s defence, raising her brows in surprise. She looks back at Jasper and Murphy, who are both staring at her incredulously, and shrugs her shoulders. The rest of the short drive is spent in silence, with nobody wanting to get onto Bellamy’s bad side again. Her gaze remains focused on the landscape flying by, thoughts wandering to the boy beside her, as they most often do.

Upon the group’s return to Arkadia, Bellamy pulls into the garage, the roaring of the rover dying in an instant as he shuts it off. “Out,” he orders gruffly, earning a grumble from both Murphy and Jasper as they hop out of the vehicle, slamming the doors behind them before heading away from the garage. She follows suit, watching Bellamy climb out too, and she instinctively starts heading away, not wanting to catch the brunt of his lingering moodiness.

“Not you.”

She stops in her tracks as his words echo through the empty garage, slowly turning around to face him. “Not…me?” she questions, her brows arched. She’s half expecting him to tell her she’s forgotten something, or that she needs to help him unload the rover, but the way his expression has softened tenfold from just minutes ago makes her slightly uneasy.

“Not you,” he repeats, his voice softer, taking a few steps towards her. “What was all that about? Why were you just sitting there letting Jasper and Murphy talk about you like that?”

A dry chuckle escapes her lips, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at the memory. “Used to it by now,” she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Murphy’s been that way since the dawn of time, and Jasper’s new emo phase has him acting like a dick 24/7. It’s whatever,” she huffs, puckering her lips as she stands awkwardly, her gaze shifting around.

“It’s just not ‘whatever’ though, is it?” he retorts sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her as he steps closer once more. “You shouldn’t let them believe they can talk to you like that, it’ll just get worse if they think they can get away with it. I know what guys are like,” he says, the idea of her being so compliant with being objectified stirring a flame deep in his heart, his instincts screaming at him to shield her from such taunts.

She snorts at his sass, amused by how insistent he’s getting. “I really don’t care about what they have to say, Blake,” she says, shaking her head slightly and shrugging her shoulders. She’s speaking truthfully - the teasing she endures from other boys in camp is practically an everyday occurrence by now.

“Bellamy,” he corrects.

“What?”

“You’re my best friend. It’s Bellamy to you, not Blake. You know I don’t like that.”

“Okay…” she says, dragging her syllables out briefly. “I don’t really care, Bellamy,” she repeats.

“I do,” he shrugs simply, placing his hands onto his hips. She, too, narrows her eyes at that, scanning his features from any ulterior motive to his words. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed as usual, but his eyes carry a hint of concern, and she’s trying to figure out why without straight up asking.

After a few seconds, she sighs softly, tilting her head backwards as she lets out a groan, a little embarrassed by the entire situation. She lets her head fall straight again, looking over at him. “Bell, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want you barking at your friends for me. I can handle it.”

He chuckles at that, and she’s almost offended that the one thing to make him laugh is the thought of her defending herself. “Listen, you can tell me to back off, tell me whatever the hell you want, but you should know by now that I’m not the type of guy to stand by when you’re evidently uncomfortable, princess. If they pull that shit again when I’m around-,” he says, placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning down slightly, raising his brows, “-I’m gonna say something.”

“You’re really annoying,” she deadpans, her eyes still narrowed as he leans to be level with her.

“Not annoying, just protective of my friends,” he shrugs, his hand trailing down to lightly skim across her arm, stilling there. “And you happen to be my best one, so you get the brunt of it.”

Rolling her eyes, she lets out a huff, her gaze roaming the garage. “Gee, thanks, lucky me,” she grumbles, her brows softly furrowed together.

He hums, straightening up once more as he looks down at her. “Damn straight, lucky you,” he grins, a rare sight from the usual scowl adorning his lips. His gaze is downcast, a twinkle in his deep brown eyes always prominent when his focus is on the girl before him. “And stop that, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” he mutters teasingly, lifting his free hand to smooth out the dip between her brows with his thumb.

A faint blush dusts her cheeks as his thumb swipes across her skin, her gaze briefly dashing to his teeth poking behind his lips before back to his eyes. She’s used to him being somewhat touchy, always greeting her with a reunion hug or squeezing her shoulders when she needs reassurance, but something in the air feels different with him tonight.

“Why’d you really defend me against Jasper and Murphy, huh?” she murmurs, her eyes roaming his features skeptically.

He doesn’t answer her verbally, but his grin widens cheekily as he steps forward again, his thumb moving to swipe her jaw, silently signalling his next move.

“Don’t,” she mumbles, her eyes widening a smidge as she pieces together what he’s boldly getting at, her own mind running a thousand miles per hour. She finally uncrosses her arms, letting them fall slack at her sides, subtly opening herself up to him. If Bellamy Blake, her best friend, kisses her right here in this garage, she might just have to face a year's worth of pent up emotions, and she’s not sure she’s ready for that.

“Why not?” Bellamy whispers, his grin widening as he slowly leans in. At first he was teasing her, but the closer he gets, the more tempting it is to close the gap.

“It’ll change everything,” she retorts quietly, unable to stop herself from taking a peek at his plump lips, his cupids bow littered with stubble.

“No it won’t.”

“Liar.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, he leans in, closing the gap until his lips are ghosting over hers, their noses brushing together. He doesn’t take it any further, keeping their lips a mere few millimeters apart as he waits for her to make the final move, his own lips curved up in a smile so bright she thinks she might go blind.

She huffs at him, seeing what he’s playing at. “I hate you,” she grumbles, all prior thoughts ditching her brain as she presses her lips against his, feeling him chuckle into the kiss as they both close their eyes. He’s slightly chapped, but she hadn’t expected much different, so she’s not bothered. She has no room to complain when her best friend, likely the most sought after man in Arkadia, is kissing her so sweetly.

Sweetly doesn't last too long, his lips pressing against hers with more insistence as his hand gently squeezes her arm, his other cupping her cheek. He pokes his tongue out, swiping it across her bottom lip in a silent ask for entry to her mouth, wanting to deepen the kiss he’s so desperately been waiting for. When she keeps her lips firmly pressed together, he furrows his brows.

“Lemme in,” he mumbles against her lips, trying again with his tongue.

“No,” she retorts quietly, closing her lips up immediately to keep him out.

“Why not?” he groans gruffly, pressing his forehead against hers, a hint of a pout on his face.

She pulls back fully, her hands lingering in the air by his waist, not quite willing to place them yet. “Not until you tell me why you’re kissing me,” she whispers, her voice holding a vulnerability that wasn't there minutes ago.

Shaking his head in amusement, he drops his gaze briefly to quietly laugh at her question, before looking at her once more. “Are you seriously asking me that, princess?” he grins, his forehead creasing. “Why does anyone kiss another person?”

She looks up at him, her mind racing with possible answers. For love? For lust? For the hell of it? “I dunno,” she decides is the best answer, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” he chuckles, his thumb moving to brush across her chin.

“Yeah. Say it,” she mutters.

Bellamy huffs, smirking at her obliviousness. “Okay, listen carefully, yeah? I…want to kiss you…because I like you, ‘kay? Romantically. R-O-M-A–”

She cuts him off with a smack to his chest at his sarcasm, her cheeks flaring up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it!” she grumbles, letting her head fall down to his shoulder on instinct, wanting to shield herself from his teasing. His grin only widens as she hides her face from him, his hands going to her waist as he nudges his nose into her hair.

“Might even go as far as to say I love you,” he whispers, gently moving her hair out of his way to ghost his lips against her neck, his touch a lot softer than she ever would have anticipated.

“You don’t,” she retorts, lifting her head just an inch to open up her neck to him.

“I do,” a kiss to her pulse point.

“You don’t.”

“I do. Can’t stand hearing other guys talk about you like how they were earlier,” a kiss to her jaw.

“You don’t.”

“I do, princess, and you love me too,” a kiss just below her ear.

“I-” she cuts herself off with a groan, knowing she can’t in good conscience stand here and tell him she doesn’t love him.

Bellamy chuckles at her groan, tilting her head to make her look at him once more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he mutters cockily. “You gonna let me in now?” he questions, his lips hovering above hers for the second time in a few minutes.

“Fine,” she scoffs.

The gap is closed once more in an instant as he presses his mouth to hers, wasting no time before slipping his tongue into her parted lips. He hums at the taste of her, living up to everything he’d ever imagined and more. Her world narrows down to just him and his mouth, her hands finally placing themselves on his waist, fingertips skimming beneath his tan shirt. She can’t help the small moan that passes her lips as he laps his tongue against hers, kissing her like a man starved.

He laughs against her lips again as she moans, hooking his hands under her thighs and hoisting her up, directing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She does so without hesitation, though she’s slightly stumped by his haste.

“Eager, much?” she mutters as she pulls away, the string of saliva between their mouths breaking as she talks.

A grin breaks onto his lips once more, and he looks over her shoulder as he quickly navigates out of the garage and down the hall, heading for his quarters. “You want me to slow down? You wanna drag this out any longer than we already have?” he grunts out, barely even straining under her weight in his arms as he walks through the remnants of the ark.

“No,” she replies quietly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

“Exactly.”

He finds his quarters relatively quickly, even with his vision slightly impaired by her hair. Nudging the door open, he takes them both into the room, ensuring it’s closed behind him before he gently lays her down against the pillows, his frame hovering above hers. She’s been in his quarters many times - they usually hang out in one another’s rooms - but she’s never been beneath him, and she has definitely never felt his growing arousal against the junction between her thighs. Yet, here she is. There’s a first for everything.

She can’t tear her gaze away when he sits up on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in his room. She squeals as he roughly tugs her boots from her feet, followed by his own, their shoes additionally being tossed aside. Her eyes roam his now bare chest, and she audibly gulps. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him bare chested before, of course she has, but never this close, and never with the knowledge of what he’s about to do to her.

“Rude to stare,” he mutters, pressing himself between her legs as he dips his head to her neck, starting off with light, gentle kisses.

She rolls her eyes at that, her knees nudging his sides and her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Well, apparently we’re more than friends now, so I think I’m allowed to,” she mumbles, tilting her neck to grant him better access.

A chuckle escapes him, and he can’t argue with it. “Fair enough,” he murmurs against her skin, biting down softly on her flesh before letting go. “Can’t tell you how many times you were here in my room,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly against hers. “Sittin’ pretty on my bed… or at my desk,” he grunts, his hands holding her waist, slipping beneath her shirt. “And I couldn’t stop imagining having you like this.”

At the roll of his hips she lets out a small gasp, her eyes fluttering closed. Her hand worms into his hair, tugging on his curls as he continues his assault on her neck. “And yet you called Murphy a perv?” she teases breathlessly, her head dropping back against his pillow.

He growls at the mention of Murphy, pulling away from the love bite he’d been curating to look down at her. “Who’s the one who actually got the girl, huh? Yeah. Me. Fuck him, the little freak,” he grumbles, his fingers tugging on the hem of her shirt. “Lift,” he instructs quietly, his tone immediately changing to a more delicate one with her.

She obliges, reaching to grab the hem of her shirt, sitting up slightly and lifting it over her head, tossing it into the forming pile. She reaches behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra before finally getting it undone, leaving it covering her breasts.

He narrows her eyes at her as she teases him, not letting it last long before he grabs her bra straps, carefully tugging them down until she’s fully exposed, her bra joining the pile.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, his hands moving to knead her chest without hesitation, and he feels any remnants of blood running straight to his crotch. “Way better than I imagined. Perfect, even,” he mutters, hastily leaning his head down to capture one of her buds in his mouth, swirling his tongue as he groans around her.

Giggling at his haste, she keeps both hands tangled in his hair, her back arching slightly towards his mouth. “Mm, baby, you gonna stay there forever?” she breathlessly murmurs with a grin, watching as he spends at least a few minutes lavishing at her chest.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that,” Bellamy groans, finally letting his mouth leave her chest. “I’m coming back to you two. Mark my words,” he mutters, giving her a final squeeze before he sits back on his haunches. He fumbles around with his toolbelt, mindlessly throwing it - along with the gun nestled in it - somewhere in his bedroom, before his hands begin to work at his zipper.

She looks up at him, biting her lip at the obvious tent in his cargos. She decides to occupy herself whilst he’s busy, undoing her own zipper and lifting her hips, wiggling out of her pants. They both finish undressing at the same time, gazing at one another with massive grins as they take in the sights.

“Shit, I can’t fucking wait to be inside of you, princess,” Bellamy blurts out, his curls loosely falling across his forehead as he leans over her again, his hands roaming her hips with intent.

Her lips part at his words, a little shocked, but she's not sure what else she was expecting him to say. “You can’t just say things like that,” she whispers breathlessly, grinning up at him as she pushes back his curls.

“Yeah? Why can’t I?” he mutters, catching her wrist in his hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. He looks down at the space between them, the sight of her in just her panties sending him borderline insane. “Any- fuck, any other time I would usually love a little foreplay, but I’ve literally been waiting a year for this, and I don’t think I can wait another second,” he huffs with a grin, looking down at her for approval.

She nods in agreement, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down, sealing their lips together in another kiss. It’s much more desperate now, their shared hunger evident in the way their tongues bind together, a mess of pants and pent up longing. His fingers hook into the sides of her underwear, tapping her hips twice so she lifts them, before slowly pulling her panties down her legs, his lips never leaving hers.

Bellamy reaches his hand carefully between her legs, caressing her hip for a moment before finding the spot between her thighs, the tip of his middle finger sliding through her folds. He groans against her mouth, elated to be greeted by a slickness evidently just for him. “D’you always get this wet,” he mutters against her mouth, pressing sloppy kisses against her lips between his words.

She gasps quietly at the contact, shaking her head. She definitely is not usually this aroused, and she’s certain it’s because of how long her body has been waiting to feel this specific set of hands against her skin.

“Oh, yeah?” he grins cockily, moving his lips to her neck once more. “So this is all for me, princess? Just me?” he teases, his fingertip lightly caressing her now, teasingly moving around and avoiding where she needs him most.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her hand tugging on his hair, desperate for more contact. “Bell, I thought you said no foreplay,” she whines.

He beams at her whine, feeling a rush of pride at how quickly he can reduce her to a mess of desperation, even on their first time together. “Yeah, yeah, I got you,” he murmurs against her neck, reaching his hands down to free himself from the confines of his boxers. He groans as the cold air hits his skin, slowly positioning himself between her thighs. A quiet moan leaves her lips at the sensation of the head of his cock running between her folds before he slowly sheathes himself fully, having to bite down on her shoulder to muffle his moan.

She can’t help but whimper at the sheer size of him, her eyes widening as he eventually bottoms out. She hadn’t had the chance to actually see him before he conjoined their bodies, but god, she can feel every inch and crevice of him, pressed snugly against the wall of her cervix.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he pulls back from her neck, watching the space between their bodies. He slowly pulls all the way out, before pushing back in, his hands on her waist keeping her steady. “Couldn’t ever conjure up a dream this good,” he mutters, his voice strained.

A moan is all she can let out, her brows furrowed as he steadily begins to move. She’s on the same wavelength as him, trying to register that this is really happening, she’s not dreaming, and her best friend is definitely fucking her.

He moves to grip her thigh with one hand, pulling it up around his waist as he finds a rhythm, deepening himself within her. His strokes are steady and forceful, each one perfectly designed to elicit that sweet moan from her lips as he works, his thighs tensing with the exertion. “Mine,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust.

She whimpers sharply at his words, her legs curling around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he picks up the pace. She reaches for him again, one hand gripping his bicep as the other grasps his hair. “Oh my god,” she moans, her eyes slipping closed as her back arches up towards him. “Fuck, there’s perfect.”

Bellamy grins at her moans, a rush of satisfaction coursing through his veins. He angles his hips to replicate his previous thrust, driving into her from that same position. “Right here, princess?” he groans out, his other hand holding her hip with a bruising pressure, feeling her clench around him. “Oh, yeah, you liked that, huh? Lookin’ so gorgeous beneath me, fucking perfect, every inch of you.”

The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, her moans gradually increasing in octave as he learns his way around her body, figuring out what works best for her. His cock slides in and out with ease, twitching within her as his tip smacks against her womb, letting him know just how deep he is. She can barely think straight, her mind a whirlwind of Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy. Her eyes open once more, instantly met with his own warm brown ones looking back at her, his gaze unwavering as he studies her expression, committing every movement of her face to memory. He grins wolfishly at her as she looks at him, driving his hips into her with a newfound force, desperate to see her face contort with a release.

Unexpectedly, he sits back on his calves, bringing her with him. His hand moves to her lower back, looking up at her as he quickly encourages her to move with him. “There you go, princess,” he mutters, one hand holding her hip to guide her. She obeys, of course, her nails digging into his shoulder blades, imprinting crescent moons into his skin as she moves her hips on top of him, whining loudly whilst he drives up into her, meeting every thrust she makes. “Good girl, fuck, so pretty like this.”

The moan that escapes her is borderline deafening as he praises her, her head dropping into the crook of his neck. Her body moves sensually against his, her breasts bouncing against his cheeks with every movement she makes. He presses a kiss against the valley of her breasts, grunting as he feels the coil in his stomach tightening. “I love you,” he mutters against her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. “So fucking much. Should’ve done this so long ago, baby, god, should’ve done this back at the dropship,” he moans, twitching inside of her as his release rapidly approaches.

She whimpers relentlessly against his neck, her hand bunching up his hair so tightly she’s worried she might rip it out. She would respond if she could, but she’s too focused on the pleasure he’s giving her, feeling drunk on every jolt of his cock within her.

Bellamy whines a little at the grip on his hair, his head tilting back as he uses all of his strength to pound up into her. He keeps one hand on her lower back, the other reaching down to find her clit, rubbing tight circles against her, needing to feel her come around him. “So close, princess,” he gasps, his free hand moving down to grip at her ass, kneading it between her fingers. “So fucking close. Gonna come and make you mine for good, yeah? Nobody’s gonna say shit about you anymore,” he moans, his head still thrown back.

Nodding rapidly, she pulls back too, her eyes roaming his exposed neck as she continues moving, despite the ache in her thighs. The sight of his Adam's apple bobbing, the small stubble gracing his chin and mouth, the way his lips are parted, it’s all too much. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip, swiping across the scar there, and she can’t take much more, tugging his hair to smash her lips against his yet again.

He groans against her mouth, unable to keep himself upright as he falls fully against the bed, his back hitting the mattress. From here, he can angle his hips to drive up into her at a brutal force, her ass smacking against his thighs with every thrust. He can feel her walls tightening around him, knowing he’s just as close as she is.

“Come with me, princess. Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against her lips, her clit dragging against his pelvis with every harsh pound he delivers to her.

It's not long before he’s thrusting in harshly one final time, coming with a loud grunt of her name and spilling deep into her womb, painting her as his.

His orgasm spurs on her own, her body convulsing around him as she comes, his tongue swallowing her moans, along with a muffled screech of his name. She pants heavily, pulling away from his mouth and collapsing against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Holy fucking shit,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his tanned skin.

He huffs out a laugh, his pupils wide with bliss, wrapping his arms around her as she collapses. “Yeah, holy fucking shit,” he repeats, his hand slowly running up and down her back, trying to soothe her trembling body. “You okay?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Was that okay?”

She grins against his chest, her eyes closing and her body relaxing. “That was more than okay,” she whispers, slowly lifting her hips so he slips out of her, softening now, the both of them able to get more comfortable. “You’re like…way better than I imagined,” she teases.

“Oh, you thought I’d be bad, huh? I don’t have a reputation for nothing,” he smirks, sitting up with her in his arms and shuffling them around so they're pressed against the pillows, her head on his chest. the slight sheen of sweat over the planes of his muscles isn’t a bother, an overwhelming sense of comfort washing over her.

“Mm, actually, you were totally shit,” she teases, snuggling closer to him, feeling the exhaustion begin to settle in.

“Liar,” he grins.

“We’ll see,” she mutters tiredly, echoing their previous words. “But, for the record, I love you, too.”

congrats if u made it this far <3 ty for reading i promise they’ll get better 😔

#blake.txt * ˚ ✦#xrated.txt * ˚ ✦#myfics.docx * ˚ ✦#bellamy blake fluff #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #the 100 #bellamy blake x female reader

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xxanaduwrites · 7 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

m’no good

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which honey gets the call from johnny that benny’s in the hospital :( cal takes her to him. :’)

warnings: talks of being beaten, descriptions of injury, cursing, lying, crying, being judgy again. it’s an emotional one to say the least, but there’s some sweet moments & a happy ending :)

author’s note: this is NOT in order with the last two parts posted. instead, it’s a future installment in “bein’ married.” you can find the timeline in da main hive masterlist. this is heavily based on the events of the bikeriders movie of benny getting beat up & hospitalized. of course this is my own made-up spin on the situation at hand. idk this idea struck me at 3am & i wrote it in less than a day, so i figured i’d just release it now. you can find a mention of this scenario in session 1 of from the hive 🎙️🐝 this can be read alone if you like, but the interview context could help for sure! x

+ also if you were wondering, i personally picture honey as brittany murphy’s character in uptown girl’s molly gunn! i’ve been obsessing over her style in it & that’s what inspired honey’s style in my writing — especially with the embroidered overalls. you can picture her however you please, & i hope you continue to do as yourself ofc <3

word count: 4.7k (2x longer than the other parts, yay!)

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

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You were in the midst of Sunday dinner with your parents when you got the news. News that would leave you scrambling out of the house in an instant with no thoughts behind your honeydew drop eyes besides him — besides Benny.

Your Pa was comfortable at the head of the table, a cigarette between his lips as he scanned the paper under reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Your Ma had just taken her seat at the table, a forkful stabbing into her salad. So when the phone rang your Pa didn’t even flinch. A result of him being too engrossed in his paper. On the other hand, your Ma sighed in a way that made you know she was evidently too tired to be on her feet again. This led you to announce that you’d get the phone. And you did, pulling it off the reciever and twisting your little finger around the warm yellow chord.

“Hi, you’ve reached The BeeHive. Honey speaking!” You chirped into the phone in your usual honey coated tone. Between your family business that consisted of beekeeping and honey jarring, answering the phone in such a way became rather customary and oddly normal. So much so that no one seemed to bat an eye besides your cousins who laughed every time they called. Absolute menaces indeed.

“Honey?” It was Johnny’s drawl on the line, rough and edgy with a twinge of something you couldn’t catch.

“Oh hi Joh— Mr. Davis!” You cleared your throat and corrected yourself. Trying to remain formal. Trying to remain respectable. Sure, you and Johnny were far from past that. Calling him Johnny instead of Mr. Davis was an entirely different respect that only you, Benny, the wives, and the rest of the guys would ever understand. So your parents? Well, they wouldn’t get that, and besides his kids were still your students after all. “How’s it goin’? Y’need to speak to my Pa? He’s right ‘ere.” You asked, your father’s demeanor easily shifting at the mention, his paper going flat against the table. It wasn’t unusual for Johnny to call your house. No — Johnny was a consistent buyer of your family’s honey. He incorporated it into the Club, handing the guys out honey beers during picnics and meetings. He learned of it from those community events you frequented with your parents, always having some sort of incorporation when catering was involved.

“Nah — nah.” He brushed that idea away rather quickly and your brows furrowed in confusion. “Gotta speak to yuh. Look I — I needa tell y’something, but if your Pa’s overhearin’ I need yuh to pretend we’re talking about the girls, alright?”

“I —“ you began but stopped short trying to compartmentalize what he was saying without reacting. “Oh, right I remember we were gonna talk about the girls' grades, yeah?” You rambled out, your words feeling far too thick coming out of your mouth, it almost didn’t sound like you. You feared your parents would catch on instantly, but instead their interest deflated as soon as nothing you said resembled anything to do with their business. It only took a second for your father to go back to his paper and beer and your mother to her salad.

“That’a good, Honey. Very good.” Johnny praised as you motioned with your hand that you were gonna step out of a sec, which really meant you were gonna pull the chord as far as you could into the other room. The distance — well it wasn’t much. The open archway from your parent’s kitchen to the living room wasn’t sound proof, so they could still technically hear every word you said, but your volume would be at lower frequency for sure, and your reactions practically undefinable.

“They’re doing real good, Mr. Davis. Bright girls you got there.” You muttered out so Johnny would know you were still there. You could feel your heart going a mile a minute as you paced the short distance available you could in restraint of the phone.

“I know. I know. They love ya, Honey, and they’re just fine. No need to worry ‘ere.” He reassured you, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. The last thing you needed to hear was something bad about those babies. It would absolutely break your heart. But what you weren’t expecting to hear was something that would shatter it into a million little pieces. “It’s uh — it’s Benny.” Johnny said, and every fiber of your being went on fire, burning to ash. “He’s — he’s banged up, Honey. Got ‘im in the hospital and everything. ‘parently some jackasses got ‘im real good at some pub not too far from us. Beat him the fuck up, and broke his foot. Could’a lost the damn thing over his colors.”

A gasp left your lips in an instant, and you almost choked as you swallowed down a whimper to conceal the sudden volcano of tears bound to erupt. Now you understood why Johnny wanted — no needed this conversation to be under wraps. Your parents were already nervous about your ridin’ and to hear about some guys jumping your husband for bein’ part of the Club 'would have your parents in a frenzy. “I’m — I’m so sorry t—to hear that, J — Mr. Davis.” You continued the facade, a facade that pained you even more now as you tied back your emotions so forcfully wanting to rip from the seams. “Is your l-little girl okay?”

“He’s fine. They’re takin’ good care of him last I heard from Cockroach. He’s up and talkin’. Took ‘im to the hospital on the West End.” Johnny explained and little by little, piece by piece the fragments of your heart were starting to come back together, but you knew for certain, they wouldn’t be mended until you saw him. Until you got to touch him. Inspect him. Coddle him. Got to know who the fuck messed with him. “Go ‘n see ‘im. He needs his wife, alright?”

“I will.” You assured him, stepping back to peek through the archway at your parents who were still eating. Thankfully nothing seemed amiss. “I’ll be over soon with the homework she’s gonna miss for the week. Does she need anything else from me? Need a friend to bring her books home tomorrow?” You added in code. Code for ‘Who the fuck did this to him, and how could you help make sure those fuckers never got as close as a mile away from Benny again?’

“Nah. Don’t you be worryin’ now, Honey. The guys and I are on it. We’ll take care of ‘em. You take care of ‘im.” He settled on the plan. “Capisce?”

A wave of relief washed over you then. A relief that could only come from Johnny’s word alone. Cause you knew he’d take care of it. He always did. “Capisce.” You sniffled, not caring anymore if your parents caught on.

“Cal’s already on the way to pick ya up at your Ma’s.” He informed you. “Told ‘em to park around the corner so there’s no suspicion. You can tell ‘em you're stoppin’ by the house.” You never thought a time like this would leave you feeling extra grateful that Johnny and his family only lived a block away from your parents. But here you were, feeling just that.

You wanted to thank him then. The words were resting against your tongue heavily, so you made do with what you could. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. I’ll tell ‘em you said ‘ello. Please send my parents regards to your wife and the girls. I’ll be there soon.”

“Anything for ya n’ Benny. Y’know that. Yuh take care of y’self now, o—kay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, itching to run out of your house and into Benny’s arms already. If you could. God, you sure hoped he wasn’t too banged up for a cuddle or two. Makin’ him feel a whole lot better was your main concern. “Bye Mr. Davis. See ya soon,” you spoke into the line before stepping heavily across the threshold and accidently putting the phone back on the hook with a little more aggression than you anticipated.

“Sorry,” you tensed and broke out in an innocent smile, “I gotta go to Mr. Davis’s. His girl is sick real bad with the Flu. Doctors says she’ll be out of school for a week and of course there’s all this important testin’ going on. Gotta keep ‘er on track, y’know? Such a good cookie. Get in a fit if she misses one lick of school.” You rambled on, adding more and more to lie you rather not tell, but knew it was for their own good. For your own good. For Benny’s. Your marriage. Your future. What you’d hope would become a bundle of joy or two with his pretty blue eyes and freckled face to match.

“‘Course she does. She’s a Davis after all.” Your father added, a fond smile stretching across his face.

“Oh that’s too bad,” your mother frowned, and then stood unexpectedly, her chair scraping against the kitchen flooring. “Here, I’ll pack ya some honey buns to take to ‘er.” Before you could protest your Ma was already piling some of her homemade buns into a metal cookie container and passing them to you.

“Real sweet, Mama.” You could feel your eyes startin’ to tear up again, that familiar wave of remembrance coming back to remind you what you were really leaving for. A wave of impatience that made your anxieties spike higher and higher at the prospect of more minutes ticking away without you being next to Benny. “M’sure it’ll make ‘er feel so much better in no time.” You kissed your Ma on the cheek in appreciaton and turned to head out.

“Wait,” your Ma said right when you were about to exit the front door with your backpack in tow. Thankfully she didn’t see you mouth a curse into the air with your back towards her. “Y’didn’t even get to touch your dinner. Will ya be back to finish it or should I wrap it up?”

“Nah. That’s ‘ight.” You declined. “I still got leftovers in the fridge for me and Benny from Rosie’s. Heat it up when I get home, but thanks Mama. Save it for yuh and Pa.”

“‘ight. Get’ome safe, Honey.” She called out. Safe. Safe. Benny didn’t get home safe, but he was safe now. Safe in the hospital that is, but was he really safe?

Your fingers gripped the doorhand, knuckles burning white as you took a breath to calm yourself. “I will, Mama. Love ya. Bye!” And then you were out the door, trying to keep your composure as long as you could, until you were out of eyeshot of your Ma and Pa’s. Your ballet flat feet banged against the pavement as you went on running down the rest, a sharp turn at the corner showing Cal by his bike, waiting and ready for you. A fresh cigarette between his lips, just ‘bout to be lit, long forgotten once his eyes landed on you.

It only took one look at him. One frown on those deep set features of his for you to be barrelling at him, strong arms encircling you in a hug.

“Oh Cal!” You cried into his tattered shirt, the dame of tears breaking out of you uncontrollably. Too uncontrollably. But you didn’t care. Couldn’t care. It was Cal after all. The brother you never had. The brother you should have had. The family you now had because of Benny. Because of Johnny. And it wasn’t that you didn’t love your parents — you loved and appreciated them of course, but you never felt fully accepted by them. So being in Cal’s arms was far more comforting than being in the arms of your parents because you could be yourself with Cal, without judgment.

“M’so sorry, Honey. So sorry.” He mumbled into your sun kissed up-do, smelling of fresh vanilla and honey scented soap.

You were crying so hard. Too hard. You’d become a total mess of hiccups and hard breathes. Of course, Cal accessed you accordingly, pulling you from his chest to take a good look at ya. And boy did your rosey cheeks and red rimmed glossy coated eyes destroy him. They really did. He hated seein’ you like this. All the guys did. They loved you far too much.

Cal’s warm calloused fingers circled the apples of your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks that resided. “It’s gonna be ‘ight. ‘erything gonna be okay.” He cooed, trying to calm you down. “Gotta stay strong for ‘im so he can get betta. Can’t take ya like this. It’ll break ‘im, Honey.”

“I — I know. I know.” You squeezed your eyes shut, wet lashes bowing down. You took a breath. Then another. And another until you felt somewhat better. More calm that is.

“Ready t’go?” Cal asked carefully when he noticed your breaths evening out.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding your head.

Cal helped you onto his bike and you clung onto him as you rode. The weight of his jacket felt oddly comforting in your hold. Even though the circumstances of such colors were alarming in such a time, it didn’t leave you on edge by any means. Before you knew it, you were pulling up in the West End. Cal parked his bike, leading you to the front desk and of course the receptionist looked at the two of you kind-of funny.

“Family only.” She said to Cal, immediately putting two-and-two together who he was here for before turning to you, a big smile gracing her features. “How can I help ya, Miss?”

Your emotions were all over the place. Anger bubbling up inside you in an instant, ready to burst at the assumption of such a thing. Sure, it was a common mistake. To be misplaced next to one of the guys in your floral knitted cardigan and patterned jeans to match. But now — now, of all times. It was your last straw.

“That’s ‘is wife. Uh — Honey Cross.” Cal motioned to you, explaining who you were before your rage could ensue.

“Hm — I don’t see a Honey here,” the receptionist said, amusement crossing her features. Clearly pleased by shooting Cal’s advances in an instant. “I’m going to need to see some ID.” She pushed, and you were already ripping off your backpack before she could even finish the sentence.

Cal’s hands materialized around the straps without a second thought, helping you out of the thing but also holding it up for you while you fished for your bedazzled wallet. It was in the deep depths of the thing, mushed around with all your work sheets and lesson plans for the week. You were always equipped and extra prepared, making your supposed trip to the Davis’s for his little girl not amiss one bit. Your cutesy keychain clipped to the end flung about as you finally uncovered it, whipping out your ID with ease. This wasn’t your first rodeo in such a situation, learning from the last time Benny was tossed in a jail cell to get your ID updated with your new last name as soon as humanly possible.

The receptionist looked between you, Benny’s paperwork, and your ID for longer than necessary. “Hmmm, okay. Second floor room twelve, Mrs. Cross.” She finally gave in. “But you’ll have to stay here, Mister.” She told Cal.

He raised his hands up in the air like he was bound to be incarcerated, and the sight almost got a laugh out of you. Almost. “Fine. I’ll be out front when y’ready, Honey.” He informed you, and you nodded.

He helped you put your things back together, and when he caught wind of your name etched into your ID, his eyes widened. “Huh? So that’s y’real name then.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, wedging the thing back into your wallet, snapping it close. And if you thought the receptionist was suspicious earlier, she was far more suspicious now.

His features scrunched up in an innocent way, that long earring of his shaking as he shook his head. “S’cute, but I can’t see ya as anything else but Honey. Be weird if I called y’anything else.”

“I get it,” the edge of your clip curled up in a faint smile then. Your first smile in what felt like ages. You couldn’t help it with Cal. It was hard not to smile around him. “Feels weird calling you Calvin, Caleb, or Calum or whatever. Which is it anyways?” You asked, brows furrowed in confusion at the thought as you zipped your bag closed.

“Don’t matter now.” He patted your shoulders once your backpack was shelled around you. “Time to go see y’man, anyways.”

Turning on your heel, you nodded when you faced him, thanking him profusely and giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as you gave him a tight hug. Once you let him go, you were off. Darting across the halls and climbing up the stairs, you weaved around the patients in their hospital beds being pushed by nurses and doctors in their lab coats until you made it to room twelve. For a moment, you stopped in your tracks, attempting a warm honey smile to grace your hubby with. To distract him from the evident pain he was having and the deep rooted distraught you felt inside.

But once you turned the corner, oh — you were a goner. There was Benny with a blue blooming zygoma, a swollen and bandaged eye, and his right foot propped up in a form fitted cast. Your heart shattered all over again without your control. Your hubby looked like a beat up puppy dog, and you couldn’t help but frown at the sight.

His blues — well his good one that is — caught your eye immediately. It was hard not to when you came waltzing in like that, all dolled up in a swarming buzz of color and sweet honey perfume. It wafted across the room and the smell touched his nose, warming him up for the first time since he’s been placed in this cold sterile room.

“Honey?” He blinked. Once. Twice. Wondering if your sweet face was an apparition. He told Cockroach not to tell you. Didn’t want you to see ‘im like this. Not until he was out and the brusin’ subsided at least, but he guessed Roach forgot to relay the message to Johnny and the rest of the guys when he told ‘em.

“Oh — my poor baby!” You cooed, racing across the room as soon as his gravelly voice hit your ears. You dotted on him in an instant. Fitting your form on the small empty space at the edge of the bed near his hip, you didn’t even bother pulling over the chair adjacent to his bed. And Benny didn’t mind no.

Even though he wasn’t too happy to see you here, he was happy to feel you here.

Your hand brushed through his hair and caressed the good side of his face, sweet and delicate. Benny couldn’t help but lean his cheek into your comforting touch. For the very first time you watched as a hot warm tear trickled down his cheek and landed on your hand.

“Please don’t let’em take my foot,” he begged, his large warm hands circling around both of yours and dropping them in his lap. “If — If they take my foot then I can’t ride again, and — and then how will I-I take y’to school?”

His sweep of emotions took you by surprise. You’d never seen him cry. Not when he was beaten and bruised in a bar fight. Not when a shard of glass wedged itself into his skin after punching through a car window. Not when you were applying alcohol to his cuts or when he was gettin’ stitches. No Benny never cried. And here he was now. Crying in front of you. In front of his wife. God, of course that just wrecked you.

Sure, maybe someone else would have made a stink. Would have told him that there were bigger things to worry about then his riding. But you wouldn’t do that — no. Besides you, ridin’ was Benny’s biggest passion. And both showed in the way he was most concerned about you. Concerned about taking care of you. How’d he do that if they took his foot and couldn’t take you to work every day. You couldn’t drive. Didn’t know how. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you just never had the time to go get your driver’s license. Not between working at the local diner while you were studying and getting your degree. And now that you had it and Benny well — you had all that you really needed.

“I won’t let ‘em, baby. I promise. I promise.” You assured, pulling his strong hands up with yours and kissing each and every rough rimmed knuckle of his. “As for takin’ me to school. Don’t you worry about that. Took the bus before I met y’anyways. Doesn’t make a difference. I’ll do it until you’re better again, alright?”

But it did make a difference. It did to him. He adored those mornings and afternoons when he had you on the back of his bike, taking you to and from school. He especially loved it when you were still living with your Ma and Pa. It was the little things like that that not only got him through his day, but also made him feel like he was doing something good. Doing something good by you. Makin’ himself seem responsible enough to your parents for being on time and prompt, to marry you. And it worked after a while. He had you now as his wife. In the apartment you shared. In his home. In his bed. While that was all good and great, he couldn’t help but wonder if something like this would set them off.

He grimaced, the thoughts gnawing at him and makin’ him ask you, “do y’parents know?”

“No, no. They don’t. Think I’m at Johnny’s dropping off homework for his sick little girl. Think you’re at work. ‘Member I told ‘em you were working today so you didn’t have to come?” You reminded him.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to throw a little white lie around here and there to your parents about Benny. Sure, he was on good terms with them now thanks to Johnny. Thanks to the fact that their little girl had him as her husband, and they didn’t have too much of a choice. But, that didn’t mean things were perfect. Benny wasn’t much of a fan at the way they treated you from time to time. Especially when they made comments about your decisions. About the way you dressed. He thought you were perfect as is, and it boiled his blood whenever he heard them goin’ on and on about it, especially at Sunday dinners. So sometimes he just didn’t come. Sometimes you didn’t go either. But of course you did today cause you felt bad you hadn’t been in awhile and felt like you needed to see ‘em. They were your parents after all. Now you were regretting not going with him instead. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had never gone to your parents in the first place.

“Hm, right,” he sighed, squeezing your hand in appreciation. “How was it anyways? Did they give ya a hard time?”

“No. Not today,” you replied. “Didn’t have time to. Didn’t even get t’sit down. I should’ve been with y’anyways.”

“No y’shouldn’t of.” He shook his head in disagreement, and then revealed, “m’no good for ya, baby.”

“What?!” You gasped, absolutely baffled by what he was sayin’. “What you goin’ on about?” He hadn’t just really said that? Had he? He did! “S’not true. Not true at all.” Your cute little bee earrings shook as you moved your head back and forth in earnest. “You’re too good t’me —“ He bowed his head down in a silent no. “Far too good,” you repeated, trying to search his eye so he could see you. Really see that you meant every word you were sayin’. “Y’loyal to Johnny and the guys. To me.” You reminded him, but his gaze was still downwards, trained on your conjoined hands in his lap. You brushed your thumb back and forth against his skin. “Lemme ask you somethin’..” you began, “What did y’do when those guys came up to ya, huh?”

“Told ‘em they’d have to kill me to get my jacket off,” he revealed, his response making your lips curl up soundly. That was your Benny right there, your loyal Benny.

“And why’s that?” You asked, pushing on. Trying to get him to the root of his decision.

“Cause…” he shrugged, taking a moment to think about it. “It represents my family….represents you. Hell, I got your patches on it!” His voice was slowly rising in defense, in bits of anger. “Got your name sewed over my heart bigger than a goddamn weddin’ ring will ever be and those fuckers laughed about it!”

A full, bright toothed smile had your dimples peaked like two pretty mountains, and when Benny’s eyes finally found your sweet honey speckled ones — well his anger dissipated. “Ah, c’mere.”

“I don’t wanna crush y—“ you began, worrying about hurting him, but he cut you off immediately.

“C’mere,” he cooed, scooting over just a tad so you could lay next to ‘em. Of course you couldn’t say no to him. Could never ever. Not when he wanted y’so bad. “Need my girl.”

“Alright, alright,” you hummed, rolling your eyes playfully as you curled yourself next to ‘em. A comfortable silence landed over the two of you, one that you were thankful for after everything. After all the fuss of the day. You just wished you could be just like this with him at home in your own bed. His strong arm wrapped around your back, hand cupping your shoulder and you tilted your head onto his own. His lips found your forehead quickly, feeling more pillowy than usual from the impact on his face and your eyes fluttered at the contact. “Oh that reminds me. Did ya eat?”

“Huh?” He hummed confused.

“Did they feed y’here yet?” You tried again.

“Nah,” he replied.

“Fuckin’ hell. Got y’propped up, but can’t feed ya…” you shook your head in disappointment, and your concern for him over something so miniscule within the swarm of everything warmed his heart tenfold.

You moved to get up, but he stopped you short with his hand that was once on your shoulder now materializing on your waist. “Where y’going?” He pouted.

“Nowhere, baby.” You assured him, fingers curling under the good side of his chin so you could leave a soft kiss on his lips which he relaxed in as soon as it came. “Just grabbin’ my bag from the floor. Got some grub — well…” you trailed off, a laugh escaping you as you unzipped your bag and took out the tin your mother gave you. “I know it ain’t dinner, but I say dessert won’t hurt. Doctor’s orders, y’know?” You opened the tin to reveal the fresh honey buns your Mama made then, and God did Benny wanna just eat you up instead. “Y’want?”

He nodded, so you didn’t hesitate in passing one over to him. Both of you enjoyed the sweet treat. So much so, that when a crumb or two fell on your chest, Benny dived right in to access it — and well who were you to protest when his soft lips met your warm skin? When his lips continued their assault around your fingers, cleaning off the sugary residue that remained. And you were happy. So happy and giddy because you were with your Benny. You knew no matter what happened. No matter what came next, the two of you would be alright. Cause that was what marriage was all about, signing up for the good, the bad, and the ugly, being there for each other in sickness and in health.

And in that short hour or so that remained in visiting hours, before the nurse flagged you down to kick you out, you laughed and giggled more than you had in days, and even when you scolded him, warning that a nurse may catch him licking down your chest or sucking your fingers, a smile graced your sweet features the entire time and Benny ate up every single second soundly.

“I fuckin’ love ya, y’know that Mrs. Cross?” He said to you at some point, in the midst of everything.

“I fuckin’ love ya too, Mr. Cross. Always and forever.”

And always and forever it was.

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additional author’s note: AH I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. PWETTY PLZ DON’T BE MAD AT ME FOR JUMPING OUT OF ORDER. (with a cherry on top 🍒)

my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

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#miss honey x benny cross #from the hive 🎙️🐝#benny cross x reader #johnny davis #cal the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #tom hardy #benny cross fanfiction #a residue installment #residue da series #the bikeriders x reader

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 9 months ago

Text

YOUNG AGAIN

Pairing - Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

Summary - You’re about to be working alongside Cillian Murphy. He wants to show you what costars do behind the scenes.

Warnings - Noncon, dubcon, p in v, rough sex, oral (f! receiving), manipulation, blackmailing, dark smut.

Word count - 1.3k +

Notes - Every time I try to do a drabble it goes over 1k grrr. also i love pathetic men that whine.

The lights were still on, large windows showcasing the beauty of the city at night, the late night budget soap opera running on the television show, your clothes ripped on you. The air was pressed out of your lungs like a deflated ball by the way his body laid on top of yours.

“Cill…” you begged pathetically, your mouth half pressed into the fabric of the sheets.

He was kissing your neck, his front pressed against your back as your legs dangled off the end of the bed. Your ass was perfectly rested at the edge of the mattress, his hips planted directly against yours. You could feel his erection hump against your core, you whined and thrashed your body against him, but you were helpless in this drunken state.

“Shush…” He hummed loudly, his teeth nipping at your skin.

A few hours ago, Cillian was a perfect gentleman. He had asked you to meet up for dinner since you’d be costaring in an indie film together. You could say it was going to be your big break, you’ve gotten a lot of recognition recently but this was going to be your first big role. Not to mention the first time working directly alongside an A-list actor.

You were both in London, so you decided to meet up at a secluded restaurant, which started with a simple dinner, but ended up with continuous rounds of drinks. The venue was dimmed, low in guests and seductive from the jazz music playing.

It wasn’t until your fourth drink when Cillian started getting a bit more handsy. You must have been giving him the wrong impression, Cillian was known to be a good guy. So you called in for the night early because you didn’t know what else to do to deescalate the situation. Which led to Cillian trying to convince you otherwise, a bit too desperately, to keep the night going.

However, he caved in and said he’d take you back to your hotel. You didn’t expect him to come into your room however. Here you were now, crushed underneath him as you struggled to find air.

“We’re going to fuck” Cillian grunted as his hands struggled to undo his belt.

You shook your head underneath him. Everytime you’d plant your hands on the mattress for some grounding, he’d shove your elbows back down. This is not how the night was meant to go, this wasn’t the man Cillian was meant to be.

“You should be grateful… I’m going to teach you a lot, you know?” Cillian laughed softly as he successfully freed his belt and his trousers gradually fell to his knees.

“Cillian no please!” You begged for mercy before his hand viciously shoved your head into the mattress

“You’ll take what I give you if you want to keep your job…” He spat as he freed his throbbing length. “You’d hate for me to ruin your career that’s hardly started, wouldn’t you?” He toyed as he lifted his upper body, a wicked grin on his lips.

You sobbed silently underneath him as he yanked up your short ripped dress to your hips. His hands caressed your soft skin on your ass, gently smacking both cheeks just to watch them jiggle. As he stroked himself, his hand rested on your lower back, skeptical that you’d try something stupid.

“Stay down, okay? That’s an order” Cillian commanded sternly as he slowly dropped to his knees.

He pulled your thong down with two fingers, grinning at the damp patch on the fabric. You mewled when he stroked his fingers against your lips. Slowly, his digits ran up and down your entrance, your hips gently squirmed around, but picked up when he entered a digit inside of you. His coated finger slipped out of your tight canal and he brought his finger to his nose and inhaled deeply.

“You smell so fucking sweet… You taste just as good?” Cillian smirked before he sucked his finger whole. He moaned in his mouth like he was at Christmas lunch. “Fuuuck baby, you always taste this devine?” Cillian asked with a cocked eyebrow.

You didn’t reply, you couldn’t reply, your body was in shock as you laid stiff on the soft bed, staring at the television to distract yourself, which he only turned on to drown out your cries. He quickly took his shirt off of his heated pale body. “I need a better taste” he groaned as his hands gripped onto your thighs.

Cillian ate you like a starved lion. His teeth nipped at your sensitive flesh whilst his cold tongue rolled over your nerves. The shock of pleasure made your hands grip into the sheets as if you were holding on for dear life. Cillian lapped your sweetness out for ages, as you moaned into the bed, too humiliated to let him hear your sweet sounds. When your eyes unexpectedly rolled back, head snapped back and back arched, you saw stars as you came hard. You couldn’t hide your screams of pleasure anymore. Cillian moaned into your cunt as he ate out every drop that shamefully dripped from you.

Slowly, Cillian climbed back on top of you and lined his member to your gushing entrance. His lower face was damp and sticky with your fluids. To which he shamelessly pressed against the side of your heated face.

“See, this will be fun. We’ll be able to relief our exhausted bodies every day. Destress each other whenever we need to. A lot of costars are fuck buddies, you clearly haven’t been in the industry for long” Cillian explained as he slowly thrusted in his size.

Your breath was stuck in your throat as you clenched around him. He couldn’t help but to moan out dramatically at the sensation.

“I need you to understand that this is normal… You don’t need to be so overwhelmed darling, do you hear me?” His head tilted and eyebrow cocked at you. His cock was twitching inside of you, desperate to plummet in and out of you.

“Yes Cillian” you answered timidly, he sighed in satisfaction and patted your rear.

“Who knows, try your luck and maybe we could take this further…” He chuckled as he nuzzled your face. Because that’s exactly what you wanted, a relationship with a man old enough to be your father.

You whined out again, his cock stretched your walls painfully. It has been a long time since you’ve had sex. That or he was a lot bigger than you’d ever experienced.

“Tell me you want to do this, that you want me…” Cillian exhaled, you weren’t sure if he was begging or ordering you to do so. His tone was a mixture of both.

“I want you” you gasped as he fully buried his length inside of you.

“Fucking knew you were a dirty whore wanting my cock” he mumbled, his hands firmly on your hips as he lifted himself up.

He grounded his feet to the carpet and mercilessly began to pound himself into you. He pulled your hips up, your knees now rested on the bed. So you were face down, ass up. Cillian grunted, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched so badly that he could chip a tooth. He could feel his cock twitch like vibrations, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt a cunt this good.

“Your cunt is squeezing me so tight, I won’t fucking last a minute” Cillian whined, pathetically.

He stood true to his words. By the time the clock ticked over to the next minute, Cillian’s chest fell forward and hips locked as his ropes of semen shot deep inside of you. You were panting out, drooling onto the bed as he groaned out loudly. The both of you fell onto the bed together.

Quickly he pulled you onto his chest as you were still mindless. He gasped out for air and said the first thing on his mind, “you make me feel young again.”

Cillian hummed and tilted his head to kiss you, slowly, passionately, romantically. Ironically, it was the first time he kissed you on the lips. You laid there, exhausted, confused and frightened. He brushed your knotted hair to the side and smiled softly to you.

“By the way… I’m staying the night” Cillian spoke, his voice still breathless but stern on the idea.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #smut #dark smut

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your-nanas-house · 1 month ago

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Cillian murphy x fem!reader

The reader's aunt is going to a honeymoon with her husband for two weeks, so she leaves her 10 months old baby with her niece and her boyfriend cillian

And cillian is INLOVE with that baby, and he keeps saying he wishes he could give you one until he tries to

Fluff and smut plss🥹

Sure thing!!! Sorry it took me so long 😭 very unique idea btw. 🙇🏼‍♀️

Baby fever

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X girlfriend/fiancè!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut (Cillian cums too fast), mention of pregnancy and baby fever, babysitting, both off age, fluff

◇ Summary: You and Cillian babysit your baby cousin and your amazing boyfriend gets baby fever.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing... sorry about that, I'm still trying to "get my mind back in the writing".

"I really wish for us to have one too" the so unexpected and sudden sentence left Cillian's lips a quiet evening.

You've been busy taking care of your cousin, since your so kind aunt left you to babysit him during her honeymoon. A baby, a 10 months and some weeks old baby, dropped in your care at your door with some begging and thanking.

It has been just some weeks since your not-paid job began, and ignoring the first days of struggling, you and your boyfriend, Cillian, took the new routine strangely well. Adapting well to the new schedules and cries and needs that a baby could have.

A few days and you both were smitten; that baby had you really wrapped around his little, chubby finger.... and he didn't even know it yet. Everything about babysitting made you wish for it to never end, even the random tantrums or the diaper moments.

You had been sitting on the sofa, your baby cousin asleep in his crib in the other room as you cuddled with Cillian. The TV off. You had been just enjoying your small moment of silence and intimacy when that sentence slipped from his lips:

"I really wish for us to have one too" your mind froze, slowly taking in every since word your boyfriend just said.

"I don't wanna rush things or put any pressure on you, love... but we've been together since years now and this weeks with your baby cousin made me realize how ready I am to take... any further steps in our relationship" he continued after a moment of silence, you could tell he was pondering about it carefully by the way his gaze remained focused on a spot and his eyebrows slightly raised

"Plus I might have what they call baby fever" he added in a weaker tone to lighten up the mood... and it worked. You didn't let him add anything else not wanting him to think you weren't on his same page

"I think so too... I mean we are about to get married and I just love you so much. Plus we don't know if it will work right away" you commented in a shy but earger voice, glancing at him as if it was your first time having sex... asking for it.

"Yeah?" Cillian asked after your answer, his light blue eyes finally looking at you with hope and love, making your heart skip a beat

"Yeah" you replied in a softer tone, taking his face in your hands to bring him in a needy kiss.

Soft noises of approval kept living your mouth as his soft lips trailed a path down your neck to your chest; his warm tongue draw shapes on your skin while his slender fingers in quick motions, finally, removed the layers of clothes.

"I love you" your eyes met as you caressed Cillian's pale and flushed skin up to his messy hair as soon as your kiss broke. Your breaths became one and your chests moved together, brushing against each other.

His cock was already painfully hard, resting against his stomach and leaking precum; it just needed a couple of strokes, and it got fully ready. His other hand worked your clit, his index finger explored your cunt, adding in no time another finger

"Yes, yes!" You whimpered out, your body shaking in pure pleasure.

The intimacy of the moment made it feel even more intense, forcing you to hold back moans, limiting them to heavy breaths and soft praises.

It felt so right and so good. You hoped it would never end.

Your mouth connected again, sharing the same passion; your hearts nearly beating in sync. You just needed one more thing.... his cock finally inside of you, stretching you out like only Cillian could do and bring you to feel— not exactly what you expected.

As your mind focused and dreamed about the imminent pleasure, it didn't register the warm feeling of his cum shooting in. It was just when his cock started to soften that you finally realized

"I'm so sorry, love. I was bit too excited—" Cillian voice interrupted the silence, his pale face flushed in embarrassment and bit of shame

".... I make it up to you" he added quickly while already trying to move down your body to finish you off with his tongue, but without succeeding since your legs had his hips caged in a iron grip

"Don't you dare move, Cilly. Stay inside... We can always try tomorrow and you can make it up then"

#cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fandom #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy smut

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mywritingonlyfans · 2 years ago

Text

Rapture. // Cillian Murphy X Reader. (Smut!)

prompt: You're younger, and love partnered with Cillian in filming a movie. He's developed certain feelings for you and finding himself struggling with them recently, until things get worse with the idea of a sex scene being added to the script. (age gap, wax play and some other sex stuff)

words: 4,3K.

He had received the script update that morning, and as he saw your eyes shift away from him during casual conversations before rehearsals, he knew you had read the new scenes. Both of you were aware of the possibility of that much-discussed sex scene that the director was considering adding. However, neither of you had imagined how it would play out, and the thought of being partially undressed in front of each other felt somewhat odd. Still, Cillian couldn't help but envision the words he had read earlier that morning coming to life in just a few weeks' time.

Now, you were sitting across from him, wearing a loose blouse and comfortable shorts, with your legs crossed. Your fingers tapped lightly on the script as you read your lines. As the others left the room, he realized that your nervousness wasn't about needing to rehearse in a few minutes, but about him being there. Cillian had initially dismissed his thoughts about you, attributing them to the recent divorce he was going through. However, he soon realized that these feelings were more than just passing thoughts.

He had already developed a pure and genuine admiration for you. He found himself lost in daydreams of conversations you could have, where he could rest your head on his chest and kiss your forehead, assuring you that everything was alright. Just as he found himself reliving the moments when you would get excited and talkative about the books you were reading after he mentioned that he had already read them. Each time you passionately shared your thoughts and enthusiasm for the stories, he couldn't help but be captivated by your animated expressions. The way your eyes would light up, the gestures you made, and the genuine joy in your voice made him smile, even long after the conversations had ended.

Yet, your expressions, your smiles, and your worries were too precious for him, but he reminded himself daily that such feelings were wrong, even though he couldn't stop them from growing.

What used to be harmless had taken a different turn after those new scenes were added to your interactions. Reading the scene had been somewhat painful, but seeing you there in person made it even more overwhelming (though not necessarily bad). The room was small, with scented candles around, something the director believed would help the actors feel at ease, though that wasn't the result Cillian was experiencing. He was practically lying in front of you, trying to make himself comfortable, avoiding looking into your eyes, though he hadn't noticed that his hands were sweaty and his breathing was heavier.

Still, he mustered the courage to gaze at you for a brief moment, trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling. "You've read it, haven't you? How do you feel?" Your nervous laughter was adorable, and your hands tightened around the script, making him notice how delicate and smaller they were compared to his own. "Yeah, I read it," your voice sounded weak, and he waited for your prolonged sigh before you continued. "I've never done something like this before, not even in theater." His face turned red, and he tried to comfort you with just a look. Touching you at this moment felt like a terrible idea, but he still did it, sitting next to you, making sure his shoulder touched yours. Contrary to what he thought, you seemed to relax at the contact, appearing more relieved. "It must be strange having to do this scene with me, given that I have no experience. Sometimes I feel like I'm not bringing positive results to your work." He immediately shook his head, hating it when you belittled yourself. You were incredibly talented.

Still, he lingered on those words. How inexperienced were you really? He had to control himself not to sound breathless as he continued, "You actually make it more enjoyable, and it'll be fine. If you agree, we can go through the lines before filming the scene. And if there's anything I can do to make you feel more at ease with this or anything else, I'll be right here." You turned to him, your angelic face now less worried, and nodded, unsure of what to say. There was a comfortable silence, and Cillian found himself smiling with closed eyes. Stopping these thoughts might be better, but they were inevitable. All he could do was wait and deal with it when the time came, even if there were more scenes after this, as well as marketing and interviews after all the filming...

...

He woke up feeling hot, drops of sweat on his temples and his chest damp. His mouth was dry, and his mind was still on your slightly parted lips, imagining how they would grow wetter as you felt him on your skin the previous night. He felt tight in his shorts, and your scent near him caused a pounding in his head. You were peacefully asleep as if you had never given yourself to him, as if you hadn't suggested adding more intensity to your lovemaking after exhausting all your muscles and neurons together. He hugged your body tighter, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer against him. You snuggled into him, and he brushed your hair away from your face and neck, kissing the spot with caution, yet urgency, until you slowly woke up and reciprocated. Your touch was delicate and gentle, just as he had fantasized before, and it fed his mind entirely.

And you felt like you could still taste yourself on him as he intensified the kisses, and your control was slipping away with each firm squeeze he gave your hips and how solidly hard he was against you. Cillian was aware that you enjoyed it—the marks left, the momentary pain when he bit your thigh, and the darker hues that you hid the next day from the intense way he kissed your breasts while you rode him. Your serene eyes and slightly parted lips showed calm facial expressions, and you found yourself surrendering to him fully. Despite no apparent reason except him being older than you, and even though it might be considered inappropriate, he found himself enjoying the thought while your features became even more devoted.

He unbuttoned your last buttons, leaving his hands free to explore every inch of you, and smiled at your soft moan when his fingers touched the marks under your breast. He kissed the spot, running his tongue over the sensitive skin, and grunted at your soft whimper. Your head was buried deep in the pillow, and Cillian didn't hesitate to position himself so he had a full view of you.

"I have an idea, I think you'll like it," he whispered, out of breath, and you chuckled in response. The room was still dark, far from dawn, and the only illumination came from the scented candles you kept on the nightstand to create a soothing sleeping environment. He had them well-reserved in his mind at the moment.

"Can I hear it first, sir?" you asked curiously, completely surrendering to this. Cillian loved how you trusted him without even needing to hesitate, even though there was no apparent reason to trust him other than him being older than you, and even though it might be considered inappropriate. He found himself enjoying that thought as your features became even more devoted. He nodded and unbuttoned your last buttons, leaving his hands free to explore every inch of you, smiling at your soft moan when his fingers touched the marks under your breast. He kissed the spot, running his tongue over the sensitive skin, and grunted at your soft whimper. Your head was buried deep in the pillow, and Cillian didn't hesitate to position himself so he had a full view of you.

"I'll try it, and you'll tell me if it's not okay, alright?" You were a bit whiny and clearly still sensitive from the previous hours, and he loved that. Your gaze was satisfied, and your muscles visibly relaxed; he loved the effect he had on you. You nodded, "I'm okay, Cill." Your hands went to his hair as he moved to your collarbone, showering it with kisses, bites, sucks, and eventually, firm grips. He could taste the flavor of your moans and cries on the tip of his tongue.

Something about it felt so real it burned in him. The recorded scene of the film was recurrent and he was there confirming the perfection of what he had seen before.

He enjoyed the way you let him do whatever he wanted with you, how it consumed his mind and forced him to maintain control, not to go too far with you. The knowledge that no one had touched you before, tasted you, or marked you in such an intense way only heightened everything further. His teeth chattered, and his knees felt weak at what was to come.

Pulling away, he gracefully tugged on your hair, and his chest was filled with your half-closed, half-tired gaze that seemed to pierce him. He rubbed against the sheets beneath him, feeling sore just from the thought alone, and you chuckled sweetly. His head swirled, and he leaned over and grasped the candle holder, his fingertips briefly turning red from the heat. You paid more attention, adjusting yourself on the pillow, but he disapproved, "You don't need to do that; I want you to relax like before, princess. Just focus on emptying your mind, lie down and be cute."

You did nothing but nod and return to your previous position, but this time letting your body go limp wasn't so easy. You could feel how wet you were from the mere thought of what had already corrupted your mind. Still between your legs, Cillian caressed the inside of your thigh, and you realized you had closed them; your mind was cluttered and hard to control. You spread them apart, leaving no room for ambiguity, making it clear that you didn't want him to hold back with whatever this was. He positioned himself better between you, allowing you to feel how heavy he was even with layers of fabric between you—his shorts and your panties. You could swear you already had a wet spot in yours. Your chest was desperate, rising up and falling down slowly, and Cillian couldn't look at you without wiping the satisfied smile off his face.

He raised the candle holder, and you could feel the heat on your breasts, your nipples excited by the sensation. The flicker of the fire was reflected in his eyes, and your lips pressed firmly together. You stifled a whimper, but couldn't hold back the whining when the wax dripped onto your sensitive skin that had already been exhausted by him. "I want to hear you, don't hold back," his high-pitched voice with a serious expression, his lines well-defined from how focused he was, left you dazed, and you needed to grind against him strongly, causing both of you to grunt and release the air from your lungs. He was happy with this, happy that you were desperate and that he was causing you some pain.

Cillian lifted the candle again and watched the droplets of wax fall onto you, tracing a line from the center of your breasts to your lower belly. Compared to his, your face was angelic with each movement, the soft moans leaving your expression even more inviting as you felt small in front of him. Your stomach clenched, and your face displayed a mixture of pain along with soft, adorable moans that made him want to explode. His hands trembled, and he had to focus hard not to finish right then and there and be done with it.

"Fuck, pumpkin, you look so good," and you enjoyed how seeing you like this had that effect on him. Your eyes closed, and everything felt intensified; your hips involuntarily spasmed against his, but it was a futile act. He audibly laughed from time to time, sweet and mature yet perverse, as if to make it clear how satisfying this was for him, and it left you completely dizzy and longing for more. He peeled off some hardened wax from your skin, admiring the marks it had left, and after massaging the area for a while he allowed the liquid to accumulate as it burned, running his tongue over the area and sucking the skin to him.

Your nails dug into his shoulder with enough force to leave crescent moons, and he let go, his teeth clearly imprinted on your skin, your fervor only making him more determined. He ran his thumb over the spot that would later be darkened and poured the excess of wax into you. Your legs tightened around him, and your hands grasped the sheets, tears welling up in your eyes, and your whimpering was soft but pleading, not exactly knowing what plea was being conveyed through it all. "Fuck, Cill, fuck, fuck," you tried hard for some relief. He halted his movements, forcing your legs to stop and holding your arms down to the mattress. He was delicate yet firm, just as you needed. You had a safe word; he knew you were okay, you were just trying to get his attention.

The holder, with the candle still burning, was now beside the sheets next to you. "Look at me, babygirl." You swallowed hard, tears streaming down the sides of your face. "Let's be good and not knock over the candle," he said firmly and clearly, and you nodded in pure eagerness, watching his well-defined and prominent muscles due to the force with which he was holding you. He kissed your face, wiping away the salty dampness, then moved to your mouth, which you wisely captured in a somewhat desperate act. He pulled away slowly, a thin trail of saliva connecting you both and slowly fading away.

He chuckled, and with no more, held your jaw and used his thumb to make you open your lips for him, sealing them with his, and soon you felt the buildup in you, and with a fuller sigh, you swallowed his breath over the messy kisses, feeling somewhat comforted. He caressed your cheek with his fingers, studying you, and you stuck your teeth into them, still trying not to move too much and be good. It was obvious you were struggling with this task. "It's good, Cill, I don't mind." He continued with more kisses and wet bites on your body, tightly gripping the open bars of your shirt with a gentle yet firm grip, almost causing your back to lift slightly off the mattress in need of him. It wasn't hard to tell you were younger, just looking at your genuine eyes was enough, and the reminder of that, that it was wrong in a way, made him want more of it all.

"Stay still, or we won't get anywhere, pumpkin," he said, and indeed you had forgotten about the candle by your side. You couldn't and wouldn't let it fall. He still sensed your scent so prominently on you, a lingering blend of sweat from the night before. Dry droplets adorned your panties, and a damp spot in the center was visibly apparent; it was adorable in his eyes. He kissed the area, gently brushing his nose against it, and you let out a graceful sigh. And once again, he found himself immersed in the feeling of having you like this, a sensation that was exclusively his. No one else had the privilege.

Unable to hold back any longer, Cillian pushed the thin fabric down and traced his tongue through you. He was familiar with it, but each time he tasted you, it fueled him with more energy. He didn't need to go too deep; you were already sticky enough, and yet clearly sensitive, a delightful mess nonetheless. Cillian pushed your swollen lips up, reaching your intended spot, and he licked it avidly. You gasped, your fists clenching the sheets. He blew on the spot and sucked on it for his own pure pleasure; he loved how the smell and taste lingered vividly in his mind afterward. However, he knew neither of you could last much longer in this way, and it wasn't how he wanted to end things.

He tightened his fingers on your thighs, using more of you, already feeling his chin and cheeks sticky from you. Reluctantly, he withdrew, mesmerized by how your essence still overflowed his mouth as he swallowed deeply, seeking oxygen. Your whimpering turned more pleading and disapproving, and he understood; he felt the same way, sore and neglected, begging for any hint of relief.

"I'm being good, Cill." Your eyes were wide open as you pleaded your case. He nodded, wiping the corners of his mouth with his fingers and still licking them to avoid any waste. It only quickened your breathing, and he felt a twinge of pity.

"You are, babygirl, you're being wonderful." He massaged his fingertips into you, spreading the burning sensation. You wouldn't be able to stay still even if you wanted to.

"You're okay, right?" he asked, pushing his fingers in slowly and deftly to fill you, watching your eyes squeeze shut tightly and your back arching a little.

"I am. I'd tell you if I weren't," you sounded weak, with sweat glistening on your forehead. It wasn't a very convincing vision, but Cillian trusted that you'd speak up if something was wrong. He moved his fingers until you got accustomed to the feeling and relaxed, making sure you wouldn't have any trouble taking him after. But you were so wet that he knew you could handle him easily even without much stretching. He made a mental note to try that later.

He pulled his fingers away, his hand sticky and wet from the excess that had dribbled, his mind taken by you, all the positions, and possibilities.

"No waste, remember?" You recalled something he had told you. Soon, your hands were around his wrist, and he didn't hesitate to let you take his fingers into your mouth, enveloping them and sucking on your sweet flavor, your eyes closing as he savored the sensation only he could describe. Your touch of sweetness and genuineness taking him over completely.

"Enough," he declared, pulling them away from you, leaving you with sad, pleading eyes. You could easily be death of him if you wanted.

You felt a bit hazy, things moving fast but still light, and surprisingly comforting after just waking up. You couldn't say when or how, but as you shifted slightly in bed and your eyes met his, he had already managed to shed his shorts. He was pulsating; he wouldn't last much longer, and you could tell he had held back for quite some time until then.

"I love how you look," he chuckled, smugness evident. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were flushed from the stress. His hair, with some strands of gray, fell over his face, and before you could brush it away, he held your arms again. You gasped, hesitating, and he forced your body onto the mattress, his weight and legs spreading yours apart. Lightly, he closed the gap between you, then settled inside you. As he had imagined, he slid in skillfully. Your head was thrown back, and you felt complete ecstasy just from finally having him after such a wait, even though it burned, and Cillian didn't feel much different.

His grunts were deep, and it made you even more flustered and messy for him. He rose, still dripping from your body, holding the candle holder. Even though he hadn't planned to tease since he was just as eager, he proceeded anyway. His hand rested on your waist, and without moving, he allowed you to ride him slowly with lazy thrusts to get what you wanted. You were shy, and your movements were as delicate as your body, adjusting to his as if you couldn't let him know. Soon he would be emptying himself inside you, deep, and that made him pant. In the meantime, he measured the droplets of wax over your belly and breasts, watching in awe as your body trembled from exhaustion.

Your moans were mostly breathless tones, and your mouth remained partially open. Your eyes never left him, of how his v-line joined yours as he filled you perfectly, until all the air left your lungs. He let a few drops fall on his own abdomen, grunting hoarsely at the warmth of him, and he smiled sweetly as your hips stopped their motion, and you focused solely on watching him.

Cillian paused, gently placing the candle holder back on the nightstand, and he tenderly turned you over onto your belly on the bed. You complied with grace, leaning forward to be closer to him, not holding back your affection. He cradled you, running his fingers through your hair, and his body welcomed yours against his chest. With utmost care, he joined with you, moving deep and fervently, his movements filled with passion, turning your whimpers into soft moans of pleasure.

The sight of you brought him immense joy, and he cherished the intimacy you shared. He was overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings for you, and he wanted nothing more than to fill you up warmly. He knew he had to be gentle, to ensure your comfort, and to respect your boundaries. Even more knowing you weren't used to that.

With each tender touch, he felt the connection between you both, savoring the moments of ecstasy that flowed between your bodies. He marveled at the depth of your trust in him, and he felt an overwhelming desire for more and more of you.

As he continued, he held you close, your hands seeking his to anchor you in the intensity of the experience. The room was filled with the sweet sounds of your pleasure, and he was enthralled by the way your body responded to his touch.

He adored every moment, every caress, and every gasp that escaped your lips. As your passion reached its peak, he held you tightly, ensuring you felt safe and into his arms. Your shared climax made him dizzy, leaving you both breathless and content.

Afterwards, he stroked your back, waist, and shoulders, reveling in the intimacy you had just shared. He admired the marks and traces left on your body.

"I treasure every moment with you," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration and a strong accent.

You smiled softly, feeling the warmth of him envelop you. His presence brought you comfort and peace, and you knew that you were deeply his.

With a caring touch, he wiped away the traces of passion from your lips, and you savored the lingering taste of him on your tongue. You nestled even closer to him, and he let you, holding you tighter. You could still feel him oozing between your legs, the liquid turning cold, tingling a little from the soreness, but it felt great. You knew he would treat you like precious pearls, bathing you and leaving you clean before you went to sleep, and that was comforting.

"I'd never let a single drop go to waste," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. Your eyes are genuine and serene as you watch him, as if you really had no dimension to it. And then, you got filled into his solemn and comforting laughter at your fragile soul causing a pleasant vibration in your body.

...

His eyes opened as if breaking free from a suffocating hold, his head emerging above water, and oxygen flooding back into his lungs. Nevertheless, he remained still, feeling a warm weight on his shoulder and his pants suddenly tighter and less comfortable. Slowly, awareness seeped into his brain, and he became conscious of his surroundings. He felt a sense of worry, unable to move even if he wanted to. Gently, he brushed aside strands of hair from your face without touching your skin, observing how peacefully you rested against him, completely oblivious to his internal turmoil when it came to you.

He gazed at the ceiling, still wrapped in the comfort of your body's warmth against his own. Despite his mind being entangled with images of you, with your hand between your thighs and your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your lips slightly parted and looking so delicate and untouched, he couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes directly anymore. The once sweet thoughts now mingled with wilder and more fervent desires, a concoction of heated emotions that overwhelmed him. He felt like he wouldn't be able to endure all of it until the end. He already felt completely entangled and trapped.

As he lay there, he found himself torn between the conflicting emotions that had taken hold of him. The intensity of his feelings for you had reached a point where he couldn't contain them any longer. It was as if everything had shifted, and what was once a tender connection now burned with a passionate fire. He did desire you and that horrible way, but he had also fallen for you, and it frightened him.

The realization that he had developed such strong emotions for someone so close and yet so out of reach weighed heavily on him. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out, or worse, if he acted on those impulses. He wished he could go back to the simpler times, when he could bask in the innocence of your presence. But it was too late. He had crossed a threshold, and there was no turning back. The feelings were there, tangible and consuming.

On top of it all, the candles still exuded essence as they burned hot and bright before his field of vision.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy fanfiction

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sukunasbow · 2 years ago

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sick, bellamy blake.

summary: in which you take care of bellamy blake when he catches the virus spreading around the camp!

warnings: fem!reader, kane’s daughter!reader, kinda ‘enemies’ to lovers, mentions of blood and puking, doesn’t exactly follow the original scene from the show, some use of (y/n), and not proof read so grammar but be really trash atm since i wrote this at like five in the morning!

notes: this is lowkey bad and i don’t know if anyone still reads the 100 works but enjoy to anyone who likes this!

“Clarke!�� Jasper yells, running towards the drop ship, catching your attention. “What? She’s resting, I’m taking over.” You walk towards the doorway, pulling down the old shirt you have wrapped around your neck to cover your face, wondering what’s wrong now.

Murphy brought back some virus from the grounders, quickly spreading it to almost everyone at the camp. Due to this, you’ve spent the entirety of the night walking around the ship, cleaning up the bloody faces of the people around you and giving clean water to them after Clarke caught the virus and could no longer take over.

As you reach the doorway, your eyes widen when you see Jasper standing next to three boys. One of the boys is being held up by the other two. “Bellamy?” You immediately run towards the boys when you realize who it is, “Jasper, stay outside, you can’t get sick.” You instruct, stopping him from getting any closer to his sick friend. “Come on, help me make space!” You yell, leading the boys towards a dirty cot in the drop ship. “Here, thanks.” You tell them, the boys carefully lying him down before quickly leaving the room full of sick teenagers.

“Bell?!” Octavia rushed towards her brother, who you quickly turn on his side as he starts throwing up blood. “Oh my god.” You squint, somehow still not used to the sight of bloody vomit. As much as you hate the stubborn and self appointed ‘leader,’ you felt awful seeing his current state. “I got this.” Octavia places a hand on your shoulder, letting you know she wants to take care of her brother and have some space, “Call me if you need me.” You nod.

“Hey, get some rest, let me take over now.” You whisper, kneeling down next to Octavia and her sleeping brother. “Are you sure?” She bites her lip, clearly struggling to stay awake. “Yes, go sleep.” You smile. Octavia gives in and accepts your offer, going to sleep near Clarke, still close enough incase anything happens while she’s resting.

Moments later, your eyebrows raised at the sound of Bellamy moving around. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” You breathe out, trying to be as gentle as you can, awkwardly touching his arm. He opens his eyes even more, squinting to make sure it’s you.

“Oh. I thought you hated me, huh? Yet you’re taking care of me?” Somehow while he’s going through a deadly virus, he still manages to piss you off and be arrogant. “Would you rather me just let you choke on your own blood?” You scoff. He lets out a raspy laugh, coughing up some blood in the process. “Ew.” You fake gag when you notice some of the blood splatter on your shoes, still trying to remain lighthearted. “Shut up.” He huffs. “Let me help, sit up a bit.” You mumble, taking the shirt you previously were using as protection and dipping it into a clean bucket of water, then moving closer to Bellamy. “You need to stay away, stop.” He pushes you away, only now noticing the lack of face covering you have on. “It’s fine.” You move back to where you were, carefully grabbing his face, running your thumb over his cheekbones as you gently dab the wet cloth on his face. The dried blood slowly washes off of his face.

“There he is.” You place the cloth down beside him. “I can finally see your smug face.” You joke, earning an eye roll from him. “All better.” You hum. A small smile appears on your face as his eyes start fluttering shut. Although you’re supposed to be against him and his shit leading skills, you still feel a part of you melting at the closeness between you and him. “Okay, you can go back to sleep.” You laugh at Bellamy’s attempt to stay sitting up and awake. “Wait, no, I should-” He starts, you quickly stopping him from moving. “Bellamy.” You whisper, “Please, just let yourself relax.” You tone is soft and gentle, something that surprises both of you, even more the man, his eyes softening. He feels his own heart melt, which also surprises him.

As he goes back to lying down, he watches as you carefully walk away, weaving around the drop ship, avoiding the other people that are lying down. He catches himself almost smile. Now, he realizes he might feel something opposite of ‘hatred’ towards you, the stubborn daughter of Marcus Kane that always disagrees with him, who he’s supposed to be against.

#this is lame sorry baes #gonna proof read soon the grammar might be super bad since it was so late anyways #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #the 100 x reader #the 100 #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #bellamy x reader #bellamy the 100 #the 100 bellamy #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake x you

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cillians-sweetheart · 29 days ago

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The Writers Club - Cillian Murphy

Cillian Murphy(39) x Fem!Reader(21)

Plot: While hosting her weekly writers club, Y/N and the other members are surprised and delighted by a new member who catches an eye for Y/N. He sees a side of her that she hides beneath her talent and passion of literature.

Content: fluff, alcohol use (slight addiction for reader), mention of toxic relationship, cuddling, praise (f & m), age-gap, kissing

In the centre of my spacious living room, I sit circled by my mature friends debating a plot for our next piece of writing we will create. I had been young compared to the rest of the women, but with a great talent in literature. They idolized me per say, and as did I to them. One of our oldest members had actually been a published author who joined my club for new work.

Over time this writer's group of mine had grown so recognized we created our own website, and social media pages. We had 10 women who attended the meetings and the rest, loyal followers and readers. I feared someday I’d have to decline someone an invitation due to the growth in the club. I’d run out of seating, and space. But for now we still held room for any brave writers willing to share their ideas and creativity.

“So, let's get started.” I smiled with my eyes circling around the room. “Last we spoke we decided as a group to start exploring the idea of a historical fiction with a romance between two teenagers in Russia 1890. Is this still what we are wanting to do?”

“Yes, and what if we incorporate some comedy between the two?” One of the women offered with her hands moving excitedly.

“I like that, I’ve had experience with comedic theatre.” Another replied.

“For sure,” I grinned. “It will definitely ease the depression of that era.”

The older women among the group laughed and sipped lightly at their glasses of wine. While I took more gulps, rather than delicate sips. Depression did not only affect those of the Gilded era.

We began flipping through our thick notebooks, starting off with names, and quote ideas we could use in our in-progressive novel. I laid the empty wine glass down beside me and read through my ideas I had come up with while drunk and alone in the middle of the night. Quickly scanning through every messy page, I was caught off guard -along with the other women- by the ringing of my doorbell.

“Were we expecting a new member?” I was asked, and the others' eyes all came to mine in the centre.

“I don't believe so?” my brows furrowed with confusion and I stood to answer the door. I wobbled slightly as I turned the handle and pulled the door open. I was shocked by a man standing at my doorstep with a friendly smile on his face and a knitted sweater that fit him just perfectly. “Hello.” I answered.

“Hey, I saw one of your posts online for a writers club?”

“Yes this is it.” I grinned.

“I’m Cillian,” He smiled back with a rich, Irish accent. His hand reached out to mine.

“Y/N.” I held his hand in mine and shook it lightly. “Please, come in.” I opened the door all the way and allowed him to come in.

All the womens heads turned as he came into my living room. Their eyes lighting up at the sight of the handsome, Irish man. He waved kindly to them and walked forward to the empty chair in the circle. “Everyone, this is Cillian. He will be joining us in our writers group.” I smiled, and he blushed.

“Hello.” He said looking at each of the women while they stared at him with awe. “I hope I wasn’t late..”

“No worries, we were just getting started.” I reached beside me for an empty notebook and handed it to him. “You can use this to plot any ideas you have. We are currently working on historical, romance, and comedy fiction.”

“Wow,” his eyebrows rose. “Sounds exciting” his smile was bright and caught the eyes of all the women. Including me. But I couldn’t let a man distract my passion and talent. Though deep down I’d rather it than use my brain.

“Okay, well back to work then.” I opened my notebook once again, laying it onto my lap.

“Cillian tell me, where is that beautiful accent from?” One of the older women beside him smirked, leaning into him.

“Ireland.” He grinned back at her, enjoying all the women’s attention and praise to his every feature.

I held my forehead in my hand, wanting to begin this novel already. I took the wine bottle to my side and re-filled my glass too close to the rim. In one sip, I downed half of the cup. Which caught Cillians attention.

“Okay okay.” I said a little too loudly, laying the glass down and silencing the women. “What do we got for names?”

Around the circle the women went around debating names for each of the characters. But to my annoyance I couldn’t pay attention to any of their suggestions. I just wanted to get to work.

Over the next half hour everyone would switch from a moment of silent writing, to expressing their ideas they wrote. And every minute my wine glass never was left empty. I refilled the glass like it was water. And the others hadn’t even finished their first one. Why must I be; feel this way?

Cillians eyes would glare at me every minute as if I were an infant needing watching. I didn’t look back at him but kept my mind to the best of my ability with the scrappy pages on my lap. I -over and over- scanned the lists and paragraphs darted around my page.

“So, what does everyone have so far with this plot?” I asked, looking around the room. No one spoke for a moment, and then Cillian did.

“What if, this young boy in the scenario, is a foreigner who had traveled from North America, Which later led to him turning into a working-class where he meant our girl.”

His idea was truly brilliant and would work well with our ideal genre and plot. “Very good. We will for sure consider that.” I grinned at him and I waited to hear more from the others, but again no one spoke. “No one else has any suggestions?” I asked the group.

“Not as creative as that.” One of the women said. A cheeky expression on her face.

The remaining time of the club wasn’t as productive as I hoped. I didn’t blame Cillian, but these lonely, desperate women. Of course I loved each of them dearly, they were all very imaginative, but also had difficulty staying on task. Especially with our new, handsome member.

After everyone began to leave, Cillian seemed to be purposely slower than the rest. He stayed right in his spot until the house was empty besides the two of us, where he then acted as if he was already ready. But before leaving, he stood and looked down at me in front of him.

“This seems like quite a nice group you have here.” He grinned.

“Yeah, it is.”

He nodded and stood there for a moment silently, then after a moment saying, “I know I just met you, but are you doing okay?”

“What do you mean?” My eyebrow lowered.

“I just noticed you seemed a little stressed.”

“How so?”

“Well… you drank almost a whole bottle of wine in just a half hour…” he said, really risking it all. I would’ve normally been mad at that comment, but I felt a type of comfort around him. Like he truly cared.

“I um… I’m fine.” I pushed my lips tightly together.

“Are you sure?” His expression was sad, and sympathetic.

I stood and thought for a moment. And he of course stood there patiently. “I don’t know,” I started, rubbing my eyes. “I had a boyfriend of almost a year a-and he just changed out of nowhere.” I fell back onto my couch, and Cillian joined beside me. His eyes still on my face, and his ears listening purely to me. “He got so mean for no reason. Threatening, and insulting me every moment he laid eyes on me…” my eyes began to well with tears and sadness.

Cillian inched close to me on the couch until the sides of our thighs touched. His hand held comfortably onto my back, caressing me delicately. “He can’t hurt you now…” he said soothingly. I lifted my red face from my hands and immediately fell into him. He held my face to his chest and rubbed my back gently.

I know I barley knew him, but I felt so safe with him the way a child did with their father. The way his voice was so soft and his touch so delicate, I knew I could trust him.

“I’m here… it’s okay.” He cooed with his lips lingering in my hair and his eyes closed. Though he’s also just met me, he swore he had fallen in love. “You are so brilliant, Y/N. Beautiful… and imaginative…” he praised with his lips still in my hair. “You deserve nothing but love, sweetheart.”

The urge and pressure in my eyes to cry grew more and more. Not as much so with sadness but with that sudden feeling of true safety. “Thank you…” I sniffled.

“Of course dear, I’ll always be here to take care of you. Whenever you need me please feel free to call.” His fingers brushed lightly through my hair.

“Mhm,” I nodded. “Could you actually stay a little longer?… I don’t want to be alone.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

We laid on my couch entangled with a comforting hug. The room was silent and peaceful, before I opened my eyes to ask, “Why are you helping me?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“No one ever seems to care about what I’m feeling.”

“Well, I know when a woman is in need, and hurting inside.”

“How?”

“Because I am a real man, sweetheart.” He grinned. “But also, you drink a lot,” he chucked.

I held my arms around his torso and held that comforting feeling tight. He was a stranger I couldn’t let go of. But he felt like I’ve known him for years.

“You know… maybe we can write this book with a more personal plot. A boy who’s sympathetic, and kind like you, and a girl maybe more like me.”

“Absolutely brilliant, love” he grinned with his hand lightly caressing my cheek.

“You think?”

He chuckled, “You are the most imaginative woman, of course I do. Such a beautiful mind you have.” He kissed delicately to the top of my head.

I lifted my head feeling his tender kiss. Our faces laid just an inch away while I leaned deeper on top of him.

The tension held between us felt like a magnet. I couldn’t control but fall into his soft, plump lips. His hands came up to my cheeks holding me lovingly against his lips. With his kiss alone, I could feel the infinite love he held deep in his heart. The love I craved to hold in the palm of my hands and treasure forever.

#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fanfic #cillian fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy smut #Cillian #fanfic #fluff fic

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wannab-urs · 1 year ago

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Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

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pinguwrites · 1 year ago

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A Daughter’s Duty | Cillian Murphy

Pairing -> dark!cillian murphy x stepdaughter!reader

Summary -> You’re stepfather has made a habit of sneaking into your room at night to use you, even when you don’t want it.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: NON-CON, DARK!!, stepfather!cillian, age-gap (reader’s 18+, Cillian’s early 40s), Cillian’s manipulative and lowkey sexist and just overall disgusting, stepdaughter!reader, reader’s innocent, p in v sex, ddlg kink, use of daddy/little girl nickname, mention of periods, implied reader’s mother is neglectful, I got this idea off a porn video lol, mention of porn

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: Probably gonna make a part two of the first time they did it 🤭 which I guess will be called part one lol

“You awake?” your stepfather, Cillian Murphy, asked, lightly knocking. Your bedroom door was slightly open, and before you could even answer, he pushed it to the side, walked in, and turned the lock.

“Mhm.” You put aside your schoolwork and turned off the desk lamp. You immediately went to Cillian, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. He was warm, like always, and he immediately put his hands on your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner.

“Feeling alright? I know you just had your period,” he said, lifting your chin up. You noticed a dark look in his eyes, but you ignored it. “Do you need anything? Snacks? Heating pad? Massage?”

You shook your head. “Could we just cuddle?”

Your mother hated it when you two were close like this, despite the fact that she never tried to be affectionate with you. She was out now, however, partying at some friend’s house, so it’s not like she would know.

Cillian nodded and lifted you up, placing you down on the bed. He covered both of you with the blanket and started peppering sweet kisses on your face and down your neck.

“Little girl,” he cooed. “How did I get so lucky?”

You giggled. “How did I get so lucky?” you said in response, resting your head on his shoulder, when you noticed his fingers circling your clit through your panties. “Daddy, not now.”

He didn’t listen, and continued brushing his fingers against your clothing.

“I don’t feel like it,” you protested, trying to close your legs. “Can we do it later?”

Cillian still didn’t say anything. He crawled on top of you and planted a hot and heavy kiss on your lips, forcing his tongue inside, his hands slipping under your bra.

“Mmph!”

You didn’t struggle, knowing that your stepfather would never hurt you, but you did feel uncomfortable. Your pussy was starting to get a little hot, but even as your body reacted positively, your mind was still frazzled.

Cillian pulled away, a string of saliva attaching you both, until it broke.

He pinched your nipples through the bra and pulled on them, waiting for them to go hard. “Daddy!”

“Shh,” he murmured, leaning in to suck on your breasts. He licked them until he was satisfied, cupping them in his hands, leaving your bra with wet spots. It clung to your skin.

It did felt good. It always felt good, but it wasn’t about that. It was sweet, but it felt forced. Cillian had never forced you like this before.

“You just said you were feeling well,” he said, looking deep into your eyes. “You’ll like it. I’ll make sure.”

Cillian rubbed his clothed cock it between your legs, humping you like a horny animal. He let out quiet noises, holding you in place. Eventually, your panty got too wet, so he ripped it off, took off his own clothing, keeping his shirt on, and started grinding skin to skin.

“Yes,” he breathed out, sliding his fat cock through your folds. “So wet, such a pretty pussy.”

You whimpered. “Daddy, not now—”

“—Take off that damn shirt,” he growled. “Show me those tits.”

You hurriedly pulled your bra up, your breasts spilling out with a bounce that held Cillian captivated.

“Slap them for me,” he ordered. He held the tip of his cock and vibrated it on your clit, making you shudder in pleasure.

You did as he asked, trying your best to focus. As you tweaked and hit and played with your breasts, he watched, praising you, telling you what a good girl you were.

“You don’t do this for any other man, okay?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Cillian smiled sweetly at your response.

He positioned himself, pressing his body close to yours, your legs up and bent over his. You couldn’t move, all you could was push your hands up against his chest.

“Daddy, please, no.”

Cillian started thrusting. It wasn’t a very fast pace, but it wasn’t slow either. It had a rhythm, one he made sure got him as deep inside of you as he could.

He grunted. “So fucking tight. Need’a do this more often.”

You moaned, arching your back, a reaction you couldn’t help. “How often?”

“Every day.”

You stared at him, not sure what to think.

“Ah, I know. I know I said only once a week, but you know how Daddy gets. Remember what I said about men?”

You nodded. The first time he’d done this, he had sat you down. He told you that you needed to be taught about pleasure, and all things grown-up now that you were ready. He explained to you how men needed to fuck often, that it was a primal instinct, and that for him, you were the one he needed. He showed you how to suck his cock, how it felt like to be sucked in return — he even showed you porn.

It was a topic you had known little about. It was all so exciting and knew, and he made you feel safe and comfortable.

Well, except for now. You were rather uneasy as he pressed his body weight onto you, as his cock — that you always whined was too big — pushed in and out of you, stretching your walls, filling you up until you weren’t sure there was and space left.

“Ngh, y-you’re raping me, daddy,” you whimpered.

Cillian huffed, almost amused. He stopped thrusting, only for a moment, then he pushed his cock as deep inside of you as he could. You cried out, but he was too focused on the feeling of your walls clenching to notice.

“Ah!”

“Daddy’s raping you, hmm?”

“Yes!” you squeaked out, pushing your hands up against his chest. You were starting to feel a little sore.

“Where’d you learn such a big word like that?”

You didn’t answer, just kept struggling against him.

“Mmm, love it when you squirm like this,” he moaned in your ear. He grabbed your hands and put them to the side, only to completely drape his body over yours and let go.

You tried to push him off, but all you could reach was his back, and it was futile. A warm feeling coiled up in your lower stomach, and you knew you were about to cum.

“Come whenever you feel like, princess,” Cillian said, your pussy fluttering around his cock. “I’m not stopping till I feel like it.”

It wasn’t that it was hurting. It was just that you didn’t want it, at least a few minutes ago. Why couldn’t he understand?

“I know you don’t like it sometimes, but it’s your responsibility to please me. Just like it’s my responsibly to please you. You’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

You could feel your pussy heating up even more, that familiar feeling slowly building up.

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

Your heart warmed at his words, despite how taken advantage of you were feeling.

“Daddy — please, ungh.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, “fuck, fuck.”

You both came around the same time. He took out his cock and held it by your face, his white cream spilling out on your lips, dribbling down your chin. Your own dripped down to the bedsheets. The ecstasy made you dizzy, but the good kind, and only for a moment.

“There ya go, sweetheart.”

Cillian wrapped you up in his arms. He rubbed his nose against yours, and then kissed it, his beautiful blue eyes filled with love and adoration.

“You liked that?”

“. . . I asked you to stop,” you mumbled, looking away.

Cillian sighed. It was one of disappointment, which made you feel like shriveling on the inside.

“But you liked it.” He ran his thumb across your cum-stained lips. “I would never have done it if hurt you. There was no pain, was there?”

“No,” you admitted.

“See?” Cillian paused for a moment, then chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “I would eat you out, but I have a feeling you’d say no.”

You glared, but to him it was adorable, not menacing.

“Alright, alright. How about we go downstairs and watch a movie? One of those princess ones?”

A smile made its way onto your face, though you tried to hide it. You were still upset.

“Fine.”

“Good girl,” he said, lowering his tone. He picked you up and held you bridal style. “But first, let’s clean you up, yeah?” He swiped a bit of his cum from your skin. “Can’t have you on the couch covered with this.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

@nela-cutie

@obsessionandmadness

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #fanfiction #pinguwrites

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

Text

He’s mine || Billy the kid x oc!reader

Summary: Mrs Riley’s affection for Billy does not go unnoticed by you, or anyone for that matter. There was hardly competition because unlike her, you weren’t married and sworn to another man, but Mrs. Riley just needed a little push over the edge and she would be done for. What you didn't expect however, was that you would be there at the scene of her downfall.

Warnings: slightly dark oc! mention of blood, shooting, oc sorta manipulates Billy, possessiveness, guilt trapping, violence, mention of dead body

Wc: 4,712 this is a loooong one, longest one ive ever written lol.

A/n: Sofía does not back down when it comes to getting what she wants is all I gotta say 😃 also it's sorta long because I'm basically retelling some of the scenes from the btk episode but with sofia in it so..

Divider by @pommecita

In Mr. Murphy's sprawling house, the air buzzed with animated conversations, and the linger familiar scent of alcohol and smoke added to the vibrant atmosphere. You and Billy navigated the lively gathering, your hand on Billy's arm.

"There he is," A voice murmurs softy, pulling your attention away from Billy. "Billy! Come here." John Riley, Murphy's right hand man, beckoned him over for a chat. You could sense the hesitation within Billy but Mr. Riley persists. "I would like to introduce you to my wife," He rests his hand on the woman's waist. She looked no more than 3 years older than you, her hair elegantly arranged in a bun as she showcases her pearly white smile.

"Honey, this is the fella I was telling you about, this is Billy the Kid," Because of how tall Billy was compared to majority of the people here, Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley had to gaze up at him. "Billy belongs to The House now. This is Irene," John gestures to his wife.

Watching the entire ordeal by his side, you saw a glint of desire in Irene's eyes. "Howdy," Billy tips his hat nonchalantly, sporting a bored expression as Irene extends her hand out for a shake. Your gaze drifts around the room, noticing eyes already fixed on you as your hands delicately squeeze Billy's arm.

"So, you're a cowboy, are you?" She grins broadly, the smile stretching from ear to ear, her hand lingering on Billy's just a beat longer than deemed necessary for a married woman with high status like her. "Oh, he's an outlaw, baby," Mr. Riley corrects his wife with a sly smile. Leaning in, he murmurs into her ear, "This man's wanted for murder."

Irene subtly inches closer to Billy, her voice gentle and soft, "Well, it sure is nice to meet such a handsome outlaw." Her eyes carefully trace his features as Billy, feeing a tad bit awkward, manages a brief, but tentative smile, then glances towards Mr. Riley. "Billy," He bids him goodbye, tension already simmering, and he draws Irene along with him, her gaze remaining fixed on him.

"I don't like her," You assert boldly as Billy smiles, he loved it when you were up front with him. He turns to face you, his hand gently on your waist while the other finds its place at the base of your neck. "Me neither, sweetheart. She looks like trouble, and I don't want that," He reassures you, affirming his unwavering loyalty.

"Hey Billy," James Dolan interrupts his conversation with Jesse. "Uh, we've, uh, set up a little fun thing for you to do," he says, fixing an intense gaze on Billy. You set your glass down, and Jesse glances at you. "See, everyone here, they want to see what you can do with a gun, hmm?"

At the mere mention of guns, Billy's gaze shifts to the floor, and he leans back on the table behind him. "They've all heard the stories." Jesse uncomfortable shifts as you observe Dolan, "Murphy thinks it would be a great idea for you to give 'em all a little- you know- demonstration." He playfully slaps Billy's chest.

"Yeah? No." Billy says flatly, turning to leave before James firmly grips his arm "Okay, okay, Billy." He shakes head, his hands resting on his hips. You narrow your eyes at him, not liking him already. "I see you don't understand how the wicks. We're paying you a whole lot of money, so if we ask you to do something small for us in return," Billy's head drops, "we expect you to do it."

"Now, come this way," He gestures, anticipating Billy's compliance. Instead, Billy stands his ground, "I don't feel like doing that," You glance between Billy and James who kisses his teeth and beckons for a man named Jimmy.

Jesse turns around to face the table, pouring himself a glass of alcohol before extending the offer to you. A subtle shake of your head declines the offer, but Billy eagerly accepts, tossing his head back with a satisfied expression. James whispers into another man's ear, Jimmy you assume as he then continues to tell Billy how he should do this little, to show everyone how good he was.

"You can do that for us, yes?" Jimmy holds Billy's shoulder, his gaze on the floor once again. "And if you agree there, Billy, we got you a little gift, hmm?" James adds as he opens a wooden box revealing a gleaming double action revolver.

You weren't an expert on firearms but the subtle widening of Jesse's eyes before he averts his gaze signifies the weapon's quality "It's brand new. Very expensive. We think you're gonna like it," Jimmy adds as he and James stare at Billy.

Billy's gaze shifts from the gun to the two men standing before him. A momentary hush envelops the room before his eyes meet yours and Jesse's. A sigh escapes him as he sets his glass down.

Billy picks up the gun, inspecting it, before toying with it, eliciting gasps from those around the room. He then tucks it in his gun belt, pouring himself a reasonable amount of whiskey and downing it in one determined gulp. You approach Billy, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm as he wipes the corner of his lips.

"You sure you wanna do this?" You gently ask him, already knowing his reluctance. "What choice do I have, Sof?" He mutters before he's urged to move on.

"Ladies and gentleman, our friend Billy here's gonna demonstrate his gifts as a gunslinger and the reason why we hired him to protect all of our interest. Yeah?" Major Murphy's voice resonates with authority as Billy loads the gun barrel.

You stand alongside Jesse, a tantalizing sip of alcohol hovering at the edge of your lips as you observe the unfolding spectacle. Just a few feet away, Irene grips her satchel, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Come on, Billy!" Murphy exclaims, his applause echoed by the enthusiastic claps of those surrounding you.

Billy wipes his mouth, clearing his throat before fixing his gaze on the targets ahead. The initial shots are a breeze, a mere warm-up for someone of Billy's caliber. In a lightning-fast span of three seconds, all five glass bottles shatter, eliciting an eruption of applause from the captivated crowd.

You smile to yourself, you knew Billy was very skilled, this ordeal demonstrating it even further. He returns to the table where a range of guns were displayed. There's a palpable tension—anger, annoyance, perhaps both—etched across his features.

The stress of the last couple of days working for Murphy, threatening people out of their own homes, has left its mark on him. Night after night, Billy sought solace in you, pouring out his emotions as you offered him nothing but a listening ear and a comforting embrace.

In a swift motion, he removes his tie, choosing another revolver with a sense of purpose. The murmuring crowd hushes as Billy cocks the firearm, once again targeting cans on the ground—now more challenging to spot and precisely aim at, but not for Billy.

With each bullet making contact with the tin, a collective flinch ripples through the crowd, including Mrs. Riley. Unfazed, Billy seamlessly transitions to a rifle. He fires a few shots at a measured pace before seamlessly shifting into a rapid sequence of shooting, cocking, and repeating.

The tension in the crowd palpably escalated as Billy's anger became increasingly evident. The wooden backdrop itself caught fire amid his repeated shots, casting a fearful hush over the onlookers, the only audible sound being the ominous crackling of the flames.

You maintained a composed stance, your gaze unwaveringly fixed on Billy. He, too, remained motionless, likely processing the chaotic scene unfolding. A swift glance at Mrs. Riley revealed her frightened demeanor. Billy wiped his mouth, setting the rifle down, and approached you. Without a word, he took your hand, pulling you along as your eyes briefly connected with Irene, navigating through the subdued crowd.

"You okay, Billy?" You gently ask him knowing he was still fired up from before. He was sat on the bed, arms resting on his thighs with his legs open. You slot yourself in between them as your hands run through his hair, a tender attempt to soothe him.

He tilts his head back, his hands roaming around your back and down your . "You still seem stressed," You frown as he stares at you quietly, though the glint of mischief was still evident in his eyes. "I can fix that," You whisper against his lips before he kisses you aggressively, hungry, starving for more.

The saloon buzzed with the clinking of glasses and the shuffling of cards as Mrs. Riley sauntered in. Her eyes, keen with mischief, spotted Billy at the table, surrounded by others as he was deeply engrossed in the poker game, his attention fixed on the cards in his hands.

"Hey there Irene. Come to join in?" Sam says as Mrs. Riley smiles, "If you'll have me, Sam," As she approached, she ignored the way your hand rested on Billy's thigh as your eyes stay focused on the cards in his hands. Mrs. Riley couldn't help but cast a flirtatious glance his way, something that Billy doesn't catch on, but you do, and Charlie, who was seated on your other side.

"Good evening, gentleman," Her high pitched voice greets as you supress a subtle eye roll. True to their gentlemanly nature, they all reciprocated with polite greetings, Billy even taking his hat off as you remained silent. You silently threw daggers her way.

Your dislike towards the woman started from the second you caught her eyeing Billy when she sat beside her husband in the carriage. Even with Billy’s hands on your waist and the close proximity between the two of you that was more than platonic, it didn't seem to deter her away—drew her more in perhaps.

Undeterred, Mrs. Riley leaned in closer to Billy, her words tinged with flirtation. "My! It's Billy the Kid, isn't it?" She purred, a blatant expression of infatuation adorning her face, her smile captivating display aimed directly at him.

Billy's gaze finally shifts toward her for the first time since she stepped into the saloon. "Yes, ma'am," he responds politely, offering no more than a slight smile before his attention returns to the worn wooden table before him. You gently squeeze his thigh, and as his eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passes between you.

"Do not call me that," Irene interjects abruptbly. "It makes me feel old, and I am not old." She states, exhaling through her nose."I didn't mean to suggest you were," Billy quickly backs himself up.

Your gaze shifts to Charlie, and a subtle exchange of glances circulates the table. "I'm really so happy to see you, Billy," she utters, a faint smile playing on her lips, her voice lowering ever so slightly. The weight of her words hangs in the air, and Billy, in response, squirms uncomfortably in his seat.

You extend your hand gracefully above the space between you and Billy, a subtle bridge in the air. "Sofía Del Tobosco," you introduce yourself, your voice carrying the weight of confidence. Yet, she meets your greeting with a blank, unwavering stare, leaving the air between you tinged with an intriguing tension as the others on the table watch on.

"We haven't properly met, I'm Billy's-" "Aren't you Dulcinea's little sister?" With narrowed eyes, you retract your hand, an awkward silence settling over the table, "I'm good friends with her ya know," Mrs. Riley giggles, leaving you to decipher her intentions at the mention of your sister. A simple hum escapes your lips as you inhale sharply, shooting an annoyed look to Charlie, who quietly chuckles.

"Wanna start a new game?" Sam cuts through the silence. Irene gracefully declines the offer, "Oh, no. You go on. I'll watch," she smiles. "Good," you mutter under your breath, a quiet comment that only Billy and Charlie seem to catch.

Mrs. Riley gracefully raises a wine glass, "Here's to you, Billy," she toasts, her gaze unwavering as she lifts it to her lips. Billy's expression remains inscrutable as he watches. The corners of his lips hint at a subtle upward twitch before he speaks, "Well, we should get going."

You gladly agree with Billy as you get ready to leave, "Gentleman-" "Oh, no. Don't go," Irene cuts him off as Billy freezes, "Stay." Despite being on your feet, you cross your arms, fixing her with an irked expression. "Walk me home later?" She nervously proposes, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

Your lips part in astonishment at her words. There was no way she asking that from Billy when clearly, he has a girl by his side. Billy's eyes flicker towards you, a subtly nod indicating his loyalty. Mrs. Riley persisted, "Please, Billy?" Just as you open your mouth to respond, Sam beats you to it.

"I'll walk you home, Irene," Sam says, diffusing the tension in the air. The relief on Billy's face is palpable as you gently touch his bicep and he glances at you. He bids farewell to the table, and you follow suit, exiting the saloon with Billy. His hand extends behind him, finding yours as he pulls you along with a certain urgency, knowing what the rest of the night would entail.

Amidst the haze of smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol, Jesse and his gang sprawled across the room, resting a chaotic atmosphere. You were making small talk with the people around like the mannered young woman you were.

Your keen eyes wandered around the room before landing on Mrs. Riley, who was making her way to Billy. You narrow your eyes, “Has she learnt absolutely nothing?” Your words spat out with an unmistakable tone of annoyance. Charlie lets out a subdued chuckle, shaking his head as he swirled the glass of alcohol in his hand, a wry smile playing on his lips as he watches Billy and Irene.

"Hello there, Billy," Irene came up behind him, a huge grin plastered on her face. "Mrs. Riley," he politely greeted her, a trace of urgency in his tone, "I wanted to see you. I really—I want to talk to you. I need to." Her words were slurred. Sensing trouble, Billy discreetly scanned the surroundings, his eyes discreetly seeking you.

"Uh- maybe now is not a good time," He made a move once his gaze fixated on your silhouette. "Oh no, definitely now. I have something to say," Irene interjected, pulling Billy back with a subtle sigh escaping him. "Get me another drink, will ya?" Her request carried an undertone of desperation, a silent plea to retain his focus.

Billy surveyed her, noticing the telltale signs that she had indulged in one too many drinks. "Sure," he bobbed his head before moving to find a servant holding glasses full of alcohol. "Gracias,' Billy thanked the woman with a smile before he redirecting his attention back to Mrs. Riley.

She gracefully retrieved the glass from his hand, her fingers delicately lingering on his before she flashed a captivating grin, taking a sip. "What did you want to say?" Billy, with a subtle furrow of his eyebrows, gently steered her back to the purpose of their conversation.

Mrs. Riley gulped. "I want to tell you about my husband," she began, and Billy couldn't help but notice a subtle shimmer in her eyes, dulled by the influence of whiskey. "What about your husband?" Billy questioned, a hint of confusion coloring his expression, uncertain where the conversation was headed.

"I- I hate him," she confessed, punctuating her words with another gulp of whiskey. At the abrupt confession, Billy's gaze eagerly sought yours once again. "You can't even imagine," She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Maybe this isn't the place to talk about this," Billy pointed out as he nervously looked at the people around who could possibly be listening.

There was silence in the air as Billy's words manage to sink into Irene's head. "No," she utters softly, delicately placing her glass on a nearby table. "Light my cigarette, will ya?" She gazed up at Billy, who sighed but complies, retrieving a packet of matchsticks from his pocket and igniting the end of her cigarette.

From afar, you were silently raging inside as you watch the two interact. You knew Mrs. Riley's affection was more than friendly, oh it was more than that. "I feel like I'm going to be sick," You mutter with an eye roll, fishing out a cigarette from your purse.

You move the end of the joint to a nearby candle letting it ignite as you take a few deep drags, eyes glued on Billy and Irene. "Thank you," Irene said lowly, her eyes looking off to the side before she directs her gaze back at Billy. "You know, you're very good-looking, Billy,"

Billy wets his lips, casting his gaze downward, an air of discomfort lingering in the unusual tension between them. "Can we go somewhere? I like you," she murmured, drawing nearer with a drop in her voice.

Billy knew what she was trying to do and he wanted nothing of it. He locks eyes with you for a fleeting moment, your silhouette veiled in smoke, a clear sign of your annoyance. "I don't think that's a good idea," He firmly says as Irene's hopeful expression drops. "Please. Please, Billy," She pleaded. There was something uneasy about how she was begging him.

"I told you I hate him. I have to get away." Mrs. Riley persisted as Billy's eyes search hers. He ignored the unsettling feeling in his stomach, "No. I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley." She pursed her lips before she lightly shook her head, her eyes closing for a brief moment, an acknowledgement of his rejection.

"Never mind," She giggled softly to herself, "It's not your fault," Irene gave Billy a smile before it drops slowly as if something inside of her was sinking. The two of them stood there for a couple of seconds before Billy felt her lips on his.

"What is she doing-" You stub your cigarette on the table, ready to storm off in Billy and Irene's direction before Charlie subtly interjects, his arm forming a barrier in front of you. Your eyes were wide in shock after witnessing the unexpected kiss. "Did you see that? Tell me you saw that, Charlie," you exclaimed, shooting him a pleading look.

"Yes, yes I did. But causing a scene won't help, besides, I think someone else could do that," Charlie whispered in your ear, prompting you to give him a puzzled look as your nails dig into his arm.

Charlie cocks his head to where Mr. Riley was, a few feet away from the two, standing with a few other men. You smirk to yourself, imagining the havoc you would create when you redirect Mr. Riley's eyes to Billy and Irene kissing. Charlie removes his arm from in front of you as you straighten up.

Seizing the moment, you deliberately raised your voice, "Is that Mrs. Riley with Billy?" The words echoed through the room, catching the attention of those nearby.

Mrs. Riley's husband, mere feet away, overheard the commotion. Anger flashed in his eyes as he turned to witness the scene, realizing his wife's inappropriate proximity to Billy. Without a word, he stormed out, following Mrs. Riley into the night.

You push your purse into Charlie's chest, "Watch this for me, will ya?" You gave him no time to answer before you were already moving away from him. You made purposeful strides to follow Mr. and Mrs. Riley, leading you outside.

"Hey!" You hear John's voice yell loudly as you hastily conceal yourself around the corner. You peeped from the corner as your eyes widen; John had a firm grip on Irene who was whimpering. "You fucking, lousy fucking bitch." He seethed, his hold on his wife unwavering.

"What do you mean?" Irene fired back, "I saw you in there, with Billy," John lowered his head as Irene shut her eyes. "I know what you were doing, You was trying to get him to fuck you, because you're a little fucking whore!" He taunted her, violently shaking her slender frame.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Riley seemed the slightest bit drunk. Sensing the intensity, you quietly moved to another spot to hear them better, "I'm tired. I want to sleep," Irene pleaded helplessly, pulling away. Her once-neat bun now betrayed signs of disarray.

"I've had enough of you. Do you understand?" John forcefully pulled her back towards him, and Irene released a pained groan. "You're a fucking embarrassment. You're always out there in heat. It's fucking disgusting and I've had e-fucking-nough!" He yelled in her face.

Part of you wanted to go out there and confront him, but what would that do? Your gaze involuntarily fell on the revolver snug in his gun belt—John Riley, a man not hesitant to use it, especially if he discovered you eavesdropping on their private dispute.

"So have I!" Mrs. Riley yelled back, making you slightly jump at the suddenness of it. "I've had enough of you; I hate you!" She roughly shoved him off of her, stumbling as she walked away.

From where you were hiding, you could see what she was doing. What she was reaching for in her garter. A revolver. Swiftly turning, she cocked it and fired, the shot lacking precision. Her lack of aim resulted in wounding John's upper right arm, and you instinctively covered your mouth to stifle a gasp, your eyes widening in shock.

Meanwhile, Billy had been searching everywhere for you. His search for you led him out front of the house where the unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced the air, prompting his head to whip in the direction of the noise.

Against the wall, you pressed yourself further, a silent witness to the unfolding chaos. In a single, fluid motion, Mr. Riley drew his gun, the metallic click resonating in the tense atmosphere before a decisive shot rang out. Her body dropped to the floor where you saw a clear view of the blood pooling around her body.

Your hands covered your mouth in both shock and horror. Trembling with fear, you couldn't tear your eyes away. At the echo of a second gunshot, Billy sprinted to the side of the house. The urgency became palpable – you needed to leave, immediately. Peeking cautiously around the corner, you saw John's back, hunched and vulnerable, as he clutched his wound.

You quickly slip out before you bump into a hard surface. Your eyes widen in shock as Billy stares down at you, his eyebrows knit in confusion yet his gaze reflecting genuine concern. Before he can question about your unexpected presence, his attention shifts behind you to where Irene's lifeless form lies sprawled on the ground.

His gaze then locks onto John, who winces in pain. "She's dead!" Billy instinctively pushes you to safety behind him; your breathing is quick and shallow, your chest heaving with rapid breaths. Billy's gaze remains fixed on Mrs. Riley.

"What did you do?" His voice turns cold, and the unmistakable sound of him cocking his gun follows. "Billy!" you whisper-yell, hand urgently tugging on his shirt. "She shot me! She tried to kill me!" John points to his bleeding wound, your fear lingering despite Billy's protective stance. "Now, get me some fucking help!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" James Dolan rushes in between the two, "what the hell is happening?" Billy's aim at John doesn't falter. "You're friend killed his wife." You flinch when John's yell rang through your ears, "She shot me! Look at me!"

"Okay, okay, just.... Billy," Dolan puts his hand on Billy's arm, lowering the gun, "Billy, put it down, all right?" Billy complies but hesitates when he puts his gun back in the safety of his belt. You clutch onto Billy's arm as pulls you into his chest, relief flooding through you as he holds you tightly.

"Hey, go fetch the doctor, huh?" You hear James yell. Unbeknownst to you, Billy's eyes stayed glued on Irene. His lip quivering slightly. There had been so much life in her just a couple minutes before, and now, he stared at her lifeless body, blood soaking into her dress.

As his hand moved to caress your hair, his eyes snap to James and John. James was ushering John to go back inside so that he could help him until Billy interjects. "We need a fucking sheriff!" He yelled, as you felt the vibration of his chest in your entire body as you clung to him even more.

"Billy, Billy please, take me out of here," You pull his face down in between your hands as he gazes at your desperate eyes. "Just, just get out of here!" James instructs the onlookers. Billy brushes the sweaty strands that framed your face back. "Sh, it's okay, 'm right here, sweetheart," He pulls you back into the warmth of his chest as you let out a choked sob.

“What were you doin' there?” The question, anticipated and inevitable, lingered in the air. Placing your cup on the kitchen counter, you turned to face Billy, his eyes fixed on you, awaiting your response. His expression, an enigma.

Exhaling through your nose, you crossed your arms, eyes drifting to the plant in the corner of the room. "I just wanted to check if she was okay, stumbling around the house drunk, Billy," you lied, leaving the part out where you saw them kissing and discreetly letting Mr. Riley know of the inappropriate behaviour his wife was partaking in.

Pushing off the counter, you approached Billy, your feet closing the distance. His legs, too long for the table, faced you, stretching out.

"Then Mr. Riley came, so I hid... And then it happened," you explained, shrugging. A sigh escaped your lips as you settled beside him, your hand offering a comforting squeeze to his thigh.

Billy scrutinized your features, finding sincerity in your eyes, yet sensing an underlying truth—you didn't truly care about Mrs. Riley's death. Your behaviour around her proved it.

"I just can’t stop thinking ‘bout it," Billy admitted, fingers toying with the mug handle before him. "Of course you can't, Billy-" You were cut off as Billy spoke, "She was even begging me! Fucking begged me to take her somewhere, away from him."

You bit your lip, containing your reaction to this new revelation. Irene begging him to take her away? Mr. Riley's accusatory words echoed in your mind, You were trying to get him to fuck you

"I-I should’ve done something. If I had taken her somewhere, she'd probably be alive right now," Billy stammered, and you moved to cradle his head, ushering him to stop. "Billy. Billy, stop." You spoke calmly, though turmoil brewed within.

He blamed himself for Irene's death, carrying the weight of responsibility for her demise, a fate she brought upon herself by flaunting more than friendliness—brazenly, in front of her husband.

"It is not your fault that Irene was murdered, okay?" you reassured him as he fell into silence. "Still, takin’ her somewhere could’ve helped-" "Stop!" You abruptly shouted, making Billy flinch in your grasp.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before releasing your hold on him, and Billy stared at you in shock. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just-" You halted, inhaling again to gain your composure.

“Do you really think nothing bad would’ve happened to either you or Irene if you did take her somewhere? Billy, Mr. Riley would not have taken it lightly if he found out you did take his wife somewhere,” you reason with him.

Billy nodded slowly. "Yeah, you’re right." You gave him a tight smile, patting his thigh. "I should probably get going, Jesse wants to meet up with me." Billy stood, adjusting his hat, and you rose from the seat.

"Okay, be safe." Approaching him, you smiled up, and he slipped his arm around your waist. "I love you." Leaning in, you replied, "I love you too," your lips meeting in a tender connection.

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 1 month ago

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you in my eyes [4] l Javier Peña

Summary: you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings: angst, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, sexual innuendo, Murphy shows up, alcohol, a guy says nasty things about a woman, mentioning marital infidelity, some blood, physical violence, concealing an incident of violence

A/N: I think that after this chapter, those few people who read this may have mixed feelings. I get it, I had them too. However, I wanted to put myself in Reader's place and situation, and unfortunately such things happened and still happen. Remember - it's just a story. If you are in a similar situation - report it and take care of your safety. However, I hope that in the next chapter (5) I will be able to give them some better moments, they deserve it. of course, I will be grateful for any feedback from you. a fragile and uncertain part of my heart needs it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

[masterlist]

The next few days were pure chaos. After O'Connell received a call from headquarters and a sharp reprimand from his superior, he made sure everyone stayed busy. Javier and Murphy quickly got on with their work, trying to stay out of O'Connell and Messina's way.

"He cut himself shaving," Steve muttered as the man passed them in the hallway one morning without a word.

"What?" Peña looked up, clearly distracted.

"He cut himself shaving," Steve repeated, pointing to the small bandage on the back of Peter's neck. "I heard him tell a couple of the guys that were smoking outside the office this morning."

"I don't give a damn," Javier muttered. "He's a pain in the ass after that last action. It pisses him off even more that she was the one who tried to stop him."

"And that mole. Do you think they'll find him? Who could it be?"

Javier shrugged. He had his job to do and didn't feel like playing at finding a mole in the office right now. They passed another open room and Peña involuntarily glanced at your desk. Everything was perfectly organized on it, except for a few files that someone had left for you to read.

"She's still gone?" Steve could clearly read his mind. "Three days?"

"Four." Javier corrected him involuntarily.

"Did she say anything?"

"She rarely says anything."

Murphy looked at his friend. He had never seen him pay attention to someone's absence from work before. "She's a good agent," he finally said. "She saved our asses."

Peña's brown eyes landed on his friend, he nodded. "Just don't tell that to O'Connell."

When he saw you in one of the pubs that muggy evening two days later, he almost felt relief. Javier’s watchful eyes immediately noticed a familiar silhouette. The black dress hugged your body, and when he approached you, he saw that you were already tipsy.

"You weren't at work." he said, nodded to the bartender, and after a moment, he too was given a glass of whiskey.

"Were you worried?" you smiled mockingly. "I was sick."

"Sick?" he repeated.

Instinct, however, wouldn't let him rest. Something about it didn't sit right with him. He saw how uncomfortable you felt when he was next to you, and your gaze wandered around the room as if you were looking for someone.

"Look at me."

His voice was clear, he knew you heard it but decided to ignore it. That's why he gently grabbed your chin and turned your face towards him.

He swallowed before speaking again. "Who did this?"

The lipstick didn't hide your healing lip, and the remnants of the bruise on your face were still visible. You could feel Javier's gaze scanning your body. A few more bruises on your arm. What could be hidden under the dress?

"Who did this?" he repeated a little more sharply. "One of them?" he nodded towards the men who were watching you. Peña knew one of these guys, you had gone out together one evening.

You finished your drink. "Leave it." you mumbled.

He leaned towards you, you could clearly smell his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. "How am I supposed to leave it, huh? You disappear for a few days, and now I see this. I need answers."

"You won't get them from me." you hissed. "Why do you care? We're not even friends."

He clenched his jaw. Exactly, why did he even care? Maybe because you were a woman? Maybe because you had helped him so many times, completely uninterested? Maybe he felt guilty? Or maybe he just liked you, in his own way?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the man who had been watching the two of you had moved. He slowly walked towards you and Javier knew that he had no arguments for you to stay with him.

"Doll, shall we go?" he mumbled as he approached you.

Fuck, you were drunk. Your legs buckled under you as you stood up from the chair and if Javier hadn't grabbed you, you would have landed on the floor.

"I'll take you home." he said, but you shook your head.

"Everything's fine." you replied and your companion grabbed your arm.

Peña watched as you struggled to take the next steps and he felt that he should react. But you were a grown woman, you made your own decisions and if he interfered you could have broken his nose.

But at that moment his blood froze. The man who was leading you nodded to another one, and he stood up with a smile and was already at your side. You probably didn't even notice him.

All the bad thoughts popped into Javier's head and without thinking he jumped out of the chair. He caught up with you just as you were walking outside.

"Gentlemen!" he said, placing his hand on one of the men's shoulders "I advise you to leave her."

"Get lost, buddy." one of the men hissed "She wants to come with us, right doll?"

Even though you had your eyes open you couldn't form a full sentence. The alcohol was already flowing through your whole body and it was only a matter of time before you could completely lose control over yourself.

"I don't want to cause trouble, but if you insist." Javier pulled his badge from his belt "We can forget about this."

The men looked at each other clearly irritated, but they probably came to the conclusion that you weren't worth the trouble. So you collapsed on Javier, they threw a few curses and went back inside.

"Fuck, good thing you ran into me." Peña mumbled looking around and located his car "I'll take you home."

"Javier..." you sighed, your hand tightening around his, that was around your waist. "Fucking prince."

"I'm far from him, but at least you'll be in one piece. Come on."

It was a challenge to lead you. Every few steps you stopped and Javier began to wonder if it wouldn't be better if he just picked you up. He was already considering it very seriously when he heard someone say his name.

"Fuck." he hissed, realizing who it was.

Peter O'Connell was heading towards him. His tie was already stuffed into his trouser pocket, and his eyes were sparkling suspiciously. He was drunk. However, a wide smile appeared on his face when he saw Peña, and then you.

"I didn't expect that!" he laughed. "You finally made up your mind? Great choice!"

Javier mumbled something indistinctly. But he sensed that something had changed in you. Your hand seemed to grip his more tightly, your figure straightened a bit.

"Peter..." you said quietly.

"I'm glad you're feeling better now." Peter glanced at you lasciviously, the dress you were wearing suddenly seemed inappropriate to you. "I see that the office gossip has a grain of truth to it. Do you work after hours, huh?"

“I have to take her home.” Javier interrupted, pulling you along with him.

"Have fun with her, Peña!" Peter's raucous laughter echoed behind him and the man felt something curdle his insides "I thought you were like me, but you're smarter. Much smarter! If I had known that all I had to do was get that whore drunk to spread her legs, this whole mess would have been avoided."

Javier stopped abruptly, your eyes meeting for a moment.

"Not only did she fuck up the whole plan, but she also has to be so cocky. Women like her need to learn humility, Peña! And we'll teach them that lesson. Don't be gentle, these bitches like it rough!"

It was as if the missing pieces suddenly fell into place. Javier saw it all in your eyes, noticed that you shook your head, whispering his name quietly, but it was too late. His blood was boiling in his veins.

The hand you were holding ripped away from you and Peña abruptly moved away. You had no chance of stopping him. With one well-aimed punch, he knocked Peter to the ground. Blood gushed from his nose after the second, but Javier didn't stop. He held him by the lapels of his jacket and punched him a few more times.

"Javier! Javier!" your screams barely reached him.

Finally, you grabbed his arm and with no small effort, pulled him away from O'Connell. Blood was already soaking his shirt, and he curled up on the sidewalk, groaning.

"We have to go, Javier." you said, hugging him. "We have to go."

With shaking hands you opened the door to your apartment and rushed inside. The door didn't have time to close when Javier entered after you. Without a word you got out of his car, he barely stopped in front of the building you lived in. He couldn't leave it like that, especially when he saw how shaken you were.

"Will you tell me what the fuck is going on?" he asked seeing you throw your bag on the table breathing sharply "Did he do this to you?"

"It's none of your business." you panted, looking like you'd lost your mind, pacing nervously "You shouldn't have done that! You'll get in trouble! Fuck!"

"I was supposed to listen to him say things like that about you?!" Javier growled.

"You've listened so far!"

He clenched his jaw, rested his arms on his hips and breathed deeply himself. "I won't say I'm sorry. That son of a bitch got what he deserved!"

You rested your hands on the table and leaned over, a groan escaped your throat. Helplessness, anger, despair - all of it built up inside you and had to find an outlet. A sob followed immediately after that and Peña felt his shoulders slump.

"Was that him?" he asked quietly, you nodded "Fuck! You should report it."

You snorted. "You think so?" you lifted your head and looked at Javier.

Although the alcohol was still coursing through your body, adrenaline made you much more alert. You took off your heels and casually ran your hands through your hair.

"What do I say?" you shrugged "My word against his. You know very well what opinions are circulating about me, I won't be credible. Besides... Shit. He probably already bragged to you that we had an affair."

"Yeah, he mentioned something."

You looked at him with pity, but you probably felt more sorry for yourself.

"I was young and naive. Peter seemed like a fucking god to me." a strange smile appeared on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes, they still seemed terrifyingly sad to Javier "I fell in love, just like that... I wouldn't break up his family, he said he was separated, that his marriage had been dead for a long time..."

Your voice broke. Javier felt a lump in his throat that prevented him from saying a single word. He could only listen to you. And look. And the sight was simply pathetic.

You were beautiful. He knew it, although he pretended not to notice. And that smile of yours... Or when you made him angry, you were the best at it. Only recently had he been able to admit to himself that sometimes he would like to switch places with those men you took home. He didn't understand it.

"He came here and he was furious. He shouted that I could have fucked up his career again." you continued in a quiet voice, arms wrapped around your chest, eyes wandering somewhere on the floor "He said I owed him something..."

"Did he…?" Javier barely recognized his own voice.

You quickly shook your head. "No. We just... We had a little fight."

"Jesus!" he took a step towards you, his legs felt like cotton "And you're saying I shouldn't punch him in the face? You should report it."

You shook your head again. He noticed you quickly wiped your face so he wouldn't see your tears.

"Peter will leave eventually. And now he will for sure." you said, your voice firm, as if you were discussing a plan of action with him. "If he tells Messina what happened, there would be an internal investigation, and that would bring all this shit to light. He'll want to avoid that."

"And you'll leave him like this?"

You looked up at Javier. "What am I supposed to do, huh? Who will take my side?" you saw him twitch "Javier, it doesn't make sense. I won't win this. I can only show up at the office tomorrow and see what Peter will do."

"And if he doesn't leave?

"He will leave, he's a coward. He transferred me to another department in fear that his wife would find out about me, and then he moved to another state with his family. But maybe you taught him something."

Javier sighed quietly. He knew perfectly well what you were talking about and although he thought you should have done differently, he knew the reality. You were right when you told him once that if you had a dick you would be treated differently.

He came closer and his fingers brushed your arm in a tender gesture "Do you want me to stay here with you?" he asked.

"No need." you replied, and seeing his look you added forcing a smile "But I appreciate it, Javier. I really do."

"At least I'll come tomorrow and take you to work. And no, I won't take no for an answer."

You nodded. "Okay."

He had beautiful eyes. God, you'd known that for ages. But when they were fixed on you like that, you could feel that he was really seeing you. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"You're tough, you know that? Tougher than most guys."

"And you're not like him, Javier."

"I brought you the files you asked for. I will bring the rest when the latest statements and reports are completed."

You took the files from Loise's hands and thanked her, but the woman didn't seem to want to leave your desk so soon.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, seeing her nervously picking at her cuticles.

She glanced over her shoulder as if she was afraid someone might overhear you, and then said, in a not-so-quiet whisper. "I heard O'Connell's going back to the States."

"Oh."

"You don't know why?" Loise looked at you closely.

You shrugged and shifted in your seat. "How would I know? It's none of my business."

Loise rolled her eyes. "Come on! I heard what the guys were saying on their cigarette breaks. About you and him."

A cold shiver ran down your spine, but you tried not to let it show. You didn't need to get involved.

"Gossip is not our job, Loise. Thank you for that and..."

"You dumped him for Peña?"

"W-What?!" you gasped in surprise. "What kind of question is that?"

Now it was Loise's turn to shrug and fold her arms over her chest. "We saw you this morning. You came in the same car."

"That doesn't mean anything." you snorted.

"You've never come with anyone before."

"Loise! Do we really have to have this conversation?" you stood up and glared at the woman. "It's none of your fucking business. Focus on your work, not gossiping."

The woman straightened up indignantly at your outburst. Her cheeks reddened with anger. "I'm sure Peña's already gotten into your panties, huh? You deserve each other."

"Loise, why did you even think I wear panties?"

The woman opened her mouth, clearly wanting to tell you something, but almost jumped in fear when someone entered your office.

"Messina called a quick meeting. Are you coming?" Javier announced, looking at you, and then, sensing the strange atmosphere, he moved his gaze to Loise. "Sorry, did I interrupt you?"

You shook your head. "Never mind. Yeah, I'm coming."

Javier let you through the door, threw another quick glance at Loise and followed you. "Did something happen?"

"She came to tell me that O'Connell is coming back to the States." You sighed.

"I've heard that before too. But that's not what really got you so worked up, is it?"

He opened the door for you.

"No. People noticed that we came together today."

"Damn..." Javier already knew what you wanted to say. "Now we're sleeping together?"

"Yeah, and I don't wear panties."

"What?!"

You just gave him a quick smile and you entered the conference room where most of the team was already gathered. Murphy smiled at the sight of you and gestured for you to come over.

"Connie asked me to invite you to dinner with us on Saturday." he said looking at Messina who was entering. "We don't take excuses. She wanted to thank you for telling us about the ambush."

"I don't know, I'm bad at things like that." you replied, although the offer seemed very nice to you.

Steve laughed. "I guess you're no worse than Peña."

"Hey! I'm here, asshole!" Javier said.

"She invited you too. You have to eat a normal meal eventually."

You could barely hold back your laughter. "Okay, I'll come. Thanks."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee @missladym1981 @axshadows @djappleblush @picketniffler @txmel @wowitsafemale @cheekychaos28 @underneath-the-sky-again

#pedro pascal #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos #javier peña #javier pena

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abbysimsfun · 3 months ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 92 (Conrad's First Love)

cw: Conrad getting pretty spicy 🌶️🌶️🌶️ and not with Heather; references to human and drug trafficking (not depicted).

Follows the events of this post.

As she passed him to put away her gloves, a stunning redhead at Pappy Murphy's Boxing Gym caught Conrad's eye. Though he'd been deep in another bout of anger and self-pity over the death of his mother years earlier, he stopped his workout. Every inch of his being compelled him to talk to her.

She turned with a smile before he could stammer a single word. "Hi, handsome. Did you want a better look?"

He nervously introduced himself and she told him her name. "Ximena." The word floated from her lips like a song. He was instantly smitten.

"Ximena, could I buy you a drink?"

They spent the day in a local pub. He told her everything about his mother's death and his distance from his father in the years since. She listened, but she had a lot less to say about herself. "I live here with my brother. I'm a student, and I'm the only caretaker he has. Our parents aren't around anymore, and it's been just Rafa and me for years."

He could hear an accent when she spoke, and most people in Britechester weren't locals, so he made an assumption. "How long since you moved from Selvadorada?"

Surprised by his guess, she turned defensive. "I don't talk about Selva."

He liked her too much to press and push her away, so they spent the rest of the day flirting and discussing their interests until Ximena invited him back to her place. "You make me laugh, Conrad Gordon. My brother's still at school and I want to get to know you better without all this noise. I hate the music they play in here."

Once Conrad followed her out of the bar and back to the small home she shared with her kid brother, Rafa, he started following her everywhere.

He lost his virginity to her a week after they met. That night, she told him why she left Selvadorada.

"I was going to die or they were going to kill me. I wouldn't let them sell me to anyone anymore, so I made a plan and left with my brother in the middle of the night to come here."

She showed him the scars left by the cartel, and a resolve to keep her safe coloured his already steadfast affection. He let her cut his hair when she said she wanted to show him how freeing it felt to change his look. "It's nice not to recognize the person in the mirror, sometimes," she said.

She told him she was a student, often meeting him at Larry's Lagoon to study but usually distracting him into other activities. One afternoon, she introduced him to an old friend, Jimmy Stefano. "Can you help him out around campus? You're in the same major."

Something about Jimmy Stefano rubbed Conrad the wrong way, but he assumed it was jealousy. Despite this, he would already do anything for Ximena and agreed to take Jimmy under his wing.

He called his father to say he planned to stay at school for Spring Break. "Sorry, I know I said I'd come home to see you."

Stephen Gordon laughed him off, but masked slight disappointment. He had no idea whether his son was flourishing or floundering at college, unsure how he'd been coping so far from home. "Don't worry, son. I'm just glad you sound happy. You're making me and your mother proud."

He skipped classes to spend time with Ximena, but made no mention of this to his father, of course. He spent time with Rafa when Ximena said she had late-night classes, taking him to the park to play pirate captain versus sea monster, and talking endlessly with him about video games.

Rafa wanted to become a pirate captain in Sulani or a game tester in San Myshuno. He had almost no memory of life in Selva before his sister left, but he knew it was "the bad place." He liked spending time with Conrad because he said his sister was too strict. "She just loves you," Conrad assured him. "Parents have to set rules, and she can't just be your sister. She has to care for you like a parent, too."

He realized then how important it was to be a model for Rafa, who needed guidance as much as anyone his age. Conrad had always had his father, but who did Rafa have besides Ximena?

Conrad discovered how she paid for an entire house for her and her brother by accident, stumbling on an argument between her and Jimmy Stefano near the campus fountain. "The deal was thirty pounds for three grand."

"They said if I didn't have five grand they'd only give me fifteen. They had guns, Ximena."

"They all have guns! Knives, too. Get your own and figure out how to use it. Watcher, please, don't screw this deal up for me, Jimmy."

"Who has guns?"

"The cartel," said Jimmy, so nonchalant, yet it still hit Conrad like a missile. His stomach turned as he read Ximena's expression. Every lie she'd told him unravelled with a look.

"Are you really a student here, Ximena?"

"No. They're my customers."

He'd had his suspicions, but he'd always told himself he was wrong. Ximena was supposed to be perfect. Hoping against hope, he still tried to play the fool. "What do you mean?"

She dragged him back home to tell him the truth - how she'd bargained with the cartel to escape a life of servitude to the men who ran product all over Simlandia. She refused to serve them, but her way out was to join them instead.

Conrad was angry, but he couldn't stay mad at her for long. As they lay in bed that night, she asked, "Are you going to break up with me because of what I do?"

"Not a chance. I love you."

"I love you, too." She smiled, resting her head on his chest as he ran a hand through her newly blonde hair. "You look nice without glasses, Conrad."

"You already gave me a haircut, Xime. You don't like glasses?"

"Conrad, you're very sexy. But you hide it and it's silly."

"If you're going to give me a makeover, what should I get you?"

"Are you asking me?"

"Ximena, I want to give you everything you could ever want."

She blushed. "I want you, Conrad. But since I already have you, maybe...jewelry? Like a ring."

"You don't wear any rings."

"Because none are special enough, Conrad."

He smiled. "Alright, that's one idea. But say I wanted to surprise you, what else did you want?"

"You could join me running product for the cartel. Our lives would be made, and we'd always be together."

"I don't want to run product for the cartel, Ximena. But I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be there for you. Rafa, too."

"Right, but what if I go? Rafa loves you, Conrad, almost as much as me. But what if the cartel moved me somewhere else? Would you come with me? Maybe you could be, like, my security. No running, just keeping me safe. Always with me and Rafa."

He'd do anything to protect her, but he didn't answer her that day, refocusing on his studies until he returned to San Myshuno at the end of the semester.

He'd missed his father more than he expected, and they went for walks in warm sunshine by the Spice Market. They talked about school, and Conrad talked about Ximena - leaving out details of her career and focusing instead on her relationship with her brother. Conrad rarely asked his father about work, but Stephen hinted he was inching closer to retirement. "Chester's daughter Nancy is ready to take over the company, but Chester's not quite ready to retire. I think she's plotting a coup, but you didn't hear that from me."

"What happens to you if she pushes out her own father?"

"Hopefully, a retirement package. Chester may not be ready, but I think I am."

On one of their walks, they passed a jewelry store, and Conrad made a beeline for the ring counter. A confident salesman smiled as the Gordon men walked inside. "Welcome. What are we shopping for today?"

"I'm just looking," Conrad said. "What rings do you have?"

The salesman beamed. "Are we thinking of an engagement?"

Stephen eyed his son carefully, but Conrad shook his head. "Not right now. Just like, for an accessory."

"I don't know, son. A ring says you're ready for forever."

Conrad took his father's words to heart, considering what forever with Ximena might look like. He wanted to be with her, but he wasn't ready for a ring. He left that day with a nice bracelet for her, instead.

"Even leaving with a bracelet as nice as that one...she must mean something. I'd love to meet her."

Conrad nodded. "She might be able to visit this summer, if she's not too busy with work," he said.

Stephen smiled and the Gordon men continued their walk, strengthening the bond nearly severed by grief before Conrad returned to Britechester for another semester. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOT FUN FACT: Conrad got crab lice from Ximena when they slept together for the first time, which is gross but also fitting I guess. And yet I didn't make it canon because it didn't quite fit the vibe. Plus, he wasn't supposed to find out that early on that Ximena was problematic.

WCIF Poses Used? Various from packs Old Souls Love Differently by @simmireen (when Ximena is blonde), Our First Time by @eclypt0sims (redhead), The Kiss by @simmerberlin (black hair) and Nights Like These by @sakurasims-world (also redhead).

WCIF Jewelry Store? Jewelry Store by Guinifere on the Sims 4 Gallery. Very elegant interior and comes with crafting tables, a vault, charging stations - very nice lot! Needs dressing up with completed jewelry on the counters and in displays to look really spectacular (and I of course went the lazy route), but I wouldn't if I was playing a retail career, and this is a great lot for someone who wants to be a jeweler!

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #flashback #britechester #san myshuno

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