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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

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Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part II: Threads }

Rating: M

Summary: Joel has a problem. Having settled into some semblance of a 'normal' life in Jackson that no longer involves running for his life and living off scraps, his clothes are getting a little… tight. Self-conscious, he deals with it the way he does most things - he ignores it.

That is until one day, the zipper on his jeans finally gives up after one too many desperate tugs, leaving him stuck. With neither Tommy nor Ellie anywhere to be found to get him out of the tight spot, Joel begrudgingly heads to the clothing store he’s seen in town for help - and a new pair of jeans.

There, he meets you.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, body insecurity, some language, Joel being unkind to himself, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6k

Notes: I haven't written anything this fast for a hot minute. It's both exciting and terrifying, especially as Joel is so new to the fandom. So this is a one-shot as it stands, but I'll be lying if I say I haven't thought about where this story can go. Please be gentle with me, Joel is easily the most intimidating Pedro boy I've written for so far. I hope this doesn't disappoint 🥺

‘TommmMMMMMYYYY!’

His voice echoes in the empty street, gruff with irritation. He can feel eyes on him - he always does, wherever he goes in this damn place - covert stares from behind curtains, peeking out of windows from the neighbouring houses.

The polished wood thumps hollowly under his fist. Head bowed in surrender, his forehead makes contact with the surface of the door with a dull thud.

‘Fuck,’ he mutters under his breath.

Trudging back to the house that’s been allocated to him - he still struggles to think of it as his - he slams the door shut behind him so hard that the sound rings in his ears. Well, more in his left than his right.

Tossing the keys onto a chest of drawers in the hallway, he yells in a last-ditch attempt, ‘Ellieeee!’

The house is silent.

The one time he needs either of them, neither can be found anywhere. Even Maria has made herself scarce - not that he’d ask her for help for this.

This being these stupid fucking jeans.

His trusty jeans that he’s worn for years, other than on laundry days, which were few and far in between. They’ve literally seen him through thick and thin - the knees are so worn he can almost see the web of white thread beneath the denim.

Tess had gotten him these jeans. Stole them, if he remembers correctly. Once upon a time, he needed a belt to hold them up, or they’d hang down to his ass crack. By the time Ellie came into the picture, they fit well enough to render the belt redundant. He could still easily fit things into his pockets though, like a map or a switchblade.

But now -

Now he’s stuck, and he can’t get them off.

If he’s being honest with himself, the jeans haven’t fit for months. The jobs in Jackson don’t come anywhere close to the backbreaking work in the QZ or being on the road with Ellie. The food is plentiful even during the harsh winter, and as much as he looks down his ideological nose at it, Maria deserves credit for the thriving commune.

He had a late start this morning. Ellie had already vacated the house by the time he came to. He was on autopilot, distracted by his thoughts about the porch steps that have rotted and need to be replaced.

He was making plans in his head to nip down to the workshop to get the wooden planks when he started getting dressed. Stepping into the legs of the jeans, he pulled them up, hopping to stretch them over his thighs. Out of habit, he sucked in his belly to button them up, the waistband seemingly even tighter than usual.

He relegated that to the back of his mind, the same way he’s ignored the fact that the jeans have been uncomfortably tight for months - to the point of hindering his movement when he lays bricks, or cuts off his breathing when he sits down. But he’s gotten used to it, like he does everything else. He’s Joel Miller with the stiff upper lip, after all.

The zipper was next. As usual, he met resistance about halfway up. Baring his teeth, he gripped the tongue of the zipper and yanked upwards.

Except this time, it didn’t budge. Grumbling, he pulled harder, feeling the burn in his biceps -

It happened so quickly that he wasn’t even aware until he was wheeling backwards from the force, his arm flying up in an arc - and a metallic clink behind him registered faintly in his good ear.

Disoriented, he glanced down at the zipper. The slider had come clean off.

‘Fuck,’ he swore and turned to the full-length mirror on the wall to inspect the damage. Running an experimental finger along the seam, it was clear that the zipper had somehow snagged on the denim. It was stuck. Dead stuck.

Turning the house inside out, he couldn’t find a single pair of scissors, and there isn’t enough space to fit a knife in without slicing himself open, at which point he left on his ultimately fruitless search for reinforcement.

Joel scrubs a tired hand down his face. He’s never been a vain guy - Tommy is that sibling. But he’s never needed to stress about his looks either, with contracting keeping him in shape before the outbreak, and the fight for survival after - until now.

Grabbing his jacket, he shrugs it on, hyper-conscious of whether it’s a tighter squeeze than usual (fortunately not) - and heads into town.

Main Street Outfitters, the only clothing store in Jackson, sits in the middle of the high street, sandwiched between the pub on one side and the welder’s on the other. For the most part, residents come in to trade in old clothes for new ones, but there’s also a nicer selection for the occasional party that one can barter for.

You’re in the workshop at the back, the afternoon sun filling the room through the skylight.

With your skill in thread and needle, you were the obvious candidate for the job when you arrived in Jackson. Over the years, it has become your sanctuary. The walls are lined with wooden shelves, where neat - though mismatched - boxes of buttons, trimmings, thread and trinkets slot perfectly into place.

You spend the days checking over incoming clothes after they come back from the laundry, making sure they are in reasonable condition and mending those that are not. The shop also charges for adjustments and repairs, and the tasks easily fill your working hours.

It’s a Tuesday, and it’s usually quiet this time of the afternoon. If you’re lucky, you can be undisturbed until you clock off at five - which is why you’re surprised when you hear the tinkle of the doorbell.

The footfall is heavy, it sounds like a strong work boot. You hold your breath and your fingers hover mid-air as the door shuts with a slam. You hear the customer clear his throat - definitely a man - as you wait in vain for the front of house to greet him.

But of course Lucy has sneaked out again. She’s a sweet girl, but manning the counter has always been too dull for her.

‘Hello?’

The voice is deep and gravelly, and despite your reluctance, it doesn’t sit well with your work ethic to keep a customer waiting. Sticking the needle into a pin cushion, you noiselessly rise from your seat and make your way to the front of the shop.

Your first glimpse of him is his back. Standing in front of a rack of jeans, the grays in his hair catch the light streaming through the shop front windows. You study him for a minute, curious eyes running over the width of broad shoulders under a beat-up, khaki jacket. Lower, his jeans are… well-worn, to put it kindly. And from sight, a sitting a bit tight on his hips -

You must have shifted your feet without you noticing. At the minutest creak of wood, the man whips around, one hand reaching behind him in search of the butt of a loaded gun or the hilt of a knife. It’s your good fortune that you see neither on him. The intensity of his gaze is just as effective as a blade on your neck to pin you to your spot.

There’s no question that he’s a newcomer. You’ve seen the same kind of intensity in everyone who’s braved what’s out there to get here.

But even if that didn’t give him away, you already know who he is. He’s Tommy’s brother. Joel, if you remember correctly. Maria approached you for some clothes a few months back when he arrived with his kid for the second time. They’ve been the talk of town since - not that you listen. In fact, you try not to, but you can’t help it if someone talks loudly enough at the next table in the canteen to interrupt your lunchtime reading.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles as the tension in his body recedes. ‘You’re very quiet.’

You duck your head. ‘Sorry.’

‘You work here?’

Wringing your fingers nervously, you nod and take two timid steps towards him, hoping he doesn’t hear the tremour in your voice. ‘How can I help?’

You’ve heard things about Joel Miller. The words most frequently whispered as he ambles by in town include ruthless, cold-blooded and steer clear.

You can’t exactly reconcile the man in front of you with those particular words right now.

There’s nothing that speaks to ruthlessness in the way he averts his eyes and shuffles his feet, the blunt tip of his shoes catching the wooden floor. You also find it hard to believe that a truly cold-blooded person would willingly cross the country and all its horrors in search of his brother, or take a teenager under his wing.

You might not think much of yourself, but you know that your judgement of character has kept you alive so far. And your instinct isn’t telling you to steer clear of this man - quite the opposite, in fact.

But that’s neither here nor there.

He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable with your scrutiny. ‘Just lookin’ for some new jeans.’

‘Alright,’ you reply, taking the remaining five steps to the other end of the jeans rack, a safe distance away from him. ‘What’s your size?’

To your surprise, he huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘At least one up from whatever I have on right now.’

Sucking in a breath, you gesture vaguely at him. ‘Um, do you mind if I take a look at uh - you? So I can guess what size will fit you?’

You’re used to being the most awkward person in the room wherever you go, but this man is giving you a pretty good run for your money right now. While you divert your gaze as he unbuttons the front of his jacket, he fixes his somewhere over your shoulder to the right, grinding his teeth, as if he wishes he was anywhere but here.

Dragging your eyes back to him, you take stock of your customer as he sweeps the lapels of the jacket to the side. Underneath, the green flannel cuts off at the top of the jeans, and you see the soft pouch of his abdomen beneath the fabric. While the shirt is well-fitted, the jeans are obviously too small. The waistband bites into his sides, you can see the subtle overhang of his love handles. Even by the way he’s standing you can tell he’s uncomfortable, packed in way too tight in the denim.

And then… you really shouldn’t, but you stare at the front of the jeans. Now, you know for a fact that the fit will be just as snug there even if he goes a size up…

‘Sorry, not much to look at,’ he grunts, breaking the silence.

Taken aback by the self-derision in his voice, the words leave your mouth before they register, sharper than you mean them to be. ‘Don’t say that.’

He blinks at you. ‘What?’

You gape at him. Does he really not see? His tall, solid frame? The strong columns of his thighs? Is this man blind on top of being frustratingly attractive -?

But of course you can never say that. Instead, you pull out three different pairs of jeans in quick succession and all but throw them at him, heat prickling the tips of your ears as the disbelief that you spoke to a customer like that sinks in.

‘The dressing room is there,’ you squeak, pointing at the far corner. ‘I’ll be at the back if you need any help -’

You turn on your heels, in a hurry to get back to your workshop, but you only get halfway through the spin. It takes you three seconds to realise why - his calloused palm is on your wrist, holding you in place.

‘Actually, I do need help - I broke the zipper, and I’m stuck in these damn jeans.’

You ignore the clench of your stomach at the way he spits out the word damn. You’re not big on swearing, but the cuss word sounds good rolling off his tongue in his Southern twang.

To your horror, a giggle bubbles up your throat before you can slap a palm over your mouth.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ you apologise profusely, heat flooding your cheeks.

You stare in consternation when those broad shoulders of his quake, a half-smile on his lips as they part in a scratchy chuckle. ‘Trust me, I’m glad I found you first. My brother or my kid would have given me a much harder time. Probably would’ve pissed their pants laughin’.’

Despite yourself, you smile back with a weak attempt at a joke. ‘I mean, I’ll try not to -’

He smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’

You lead the way to the back of the shop and Joel follows three polite steps behind, pausing by the doorway. Running practised eyes over the space, the contractor in him appreciates the well-built skylight and the sturdy furniture in the room, pieces that were clearly built to last. He places the jeans you picked out for him on the big work table, made of strong timber and aged with time.

He picked up a change in your demeanour the moment you crossed the threshold into the workshop. There’s a quiet confidence in your measured steps, the way you move speaking volumes - this is clearly your place, and you’re so much more comfortable in your skin here.

You point at the spot marked by a round, cosy rug directly beneath the skylight. ‘Could you stand there for me?’

Doing as he’s told, he startles when you march straight up to him, sliding your palms under the shoulders of his jacket to push it off. Your front brushes his chest briefly when you reach around to catch it, but not brief enough for him to ignore the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against him.

Joel is all too aware of his pulse going from zero to a hundred at the fleeting touch, the collar of his shirt suddenly a bit too tight. For fuck’s sake, Miller. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since his head has gone anywhere near there, but of course it has to happen at the most inconvenient moment.

At least you don’t seem to notice, draping his jacket over the back of a chair before retrieving a pair of tailor’s scissors from one meticulously organised drawer.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten a handle on himself, you hit him with a non-sequitur. ‘Are you wearing underwear?’

Only when Joel splutters wordlessly does the full weight of the question seem to hit you. You stutter, ‘Oh god, I didn’t - I mean - I only asked because if push comes to shove, and I have to cut through the jeans, I don’t want to ruin any underwear you’re wearing -’

You trail off, and it’s his turn to stammer, scratching an invisible itch on his elbow as he struggles to remember what he usually does with his hands.

‘No, no, I get it. I’m ahem -,’ he pauses with a cough. ‘I’m not actually wearin’ any underwear right now. Not out of habit, it’s just that I’ve been barely squeezin’ into the stupid jeans even without it.’

His honest answer seems to put you at ease, and you purse your lips. ‘Sounds uncomfortable.’

He shrugs. ‘Have been for months.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He arches an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘That you’ve been uncomfortable. That’s one thing clothes shouldn’t be.’

Not quite knowing how to answer you, he watches you grab a velvet cushioned footstool from under the work table and place it squarely at his feet. Then, without further preamble, you sink onto your knees in front of him, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

As he stares down at the crown of your head, your nose at the level of his waistband, he muses that he hasn’t seen this view for a long time, a very long time. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he closes his eyes, fighting the base instinct to cup the back of your head in his palm and to pull you close -

He breathes out hard through his nostrils and clenches his jaw, casting his gaze heavenwards through the skylight as he actually prays for the first time in years.

Don’t you fucking dare get hard, Miller.

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you consider what’s before you. It’s tricky. The jeans are unbuttoned and zipped up most of the way, but the denim has been caught tight in the metallic teeth, and the handle of the zipper yanked clean off.

Cocking your head to one side, you think out loud. ‘I think we should at least try and unsnag the zipper before cutting. But we’re going to need some lubrication, and we’ll need to give it a really good, firm tug -’

The man chokes on nothing above you, and you frown up at him in a question.

Clearing his throat loudly, he asks through gritted teeth, ‘Do we have to?’

‘I mean, I can just cut open the jeans, but then you’ll definitely have to trade in something extra to cover the costs of the repairs -’

He interrupts, ‘That. Let’s do that.’

‘Alright, your call,’ you say with a nod. ‘Can you hold up your shirt?’

You try not to gawk when he draws up the tails of his flannel, revealing his soft stomach underneath. The mid-rise jeans cut off beneath his belly button, and you eye the trail that sneaks full and dark under the waistband. He’s obviously sucking his tummy in, and you catch yourself wishing he doesn’t feel like he has to.

You bite your bottom lip. ‘Do you think you can fit a couple of fingers into the waistband so I can slide the scissors in? They’re sharp, I don’t want to cut you.’

You watch as he tries, first his index finger, then his middle, but he can barely squeeze in beyond the nail, which turns completely colourless from the pressure. He sighs in surrender. ‘Mfraid you’ll have to, sweetheart.’

You have to close your eyes for a moment, your head swimming. You’re not sure whether it’s from the sweetheart, or the fact that he wants you to stick your hand down the front of his pants.

Well, not exactly that he wants you to. And not your hand. But still.

You squeak. ‘Do I have to?’

He pins you a sarcastic arch of his eyebrows. ‘Well, if you’re sure that you won’t cut my dick off -’

Your face heats up at his blunt words, falling back onto your haunches. ‘Great, now you’ve got me worried -’

Palms up in apology, he shrugs. ‘Sorry -’

‘No, no, you’re right. I don’t want to accidentally castrate you,’ you sigh. ‘Are you - um - well adjusted in there?’

‘I’d go down the right side of the zipper,’ he answers diplomatically.

Taking a deep breath, you ask, ‘Ready?’

‘Whenever you are, sweetheart.’

The first contact is the brush of your knuckles against his stomach, the skin warm and soft on the back of your fingers. You don’t dare look up, but you can feel his eyes on you as you burrow your index finger under the waistband. Though it’s a squeeze, you manage to wriggle in nail side down, creating a small gap - still not quite enough to get the scissors in without nicking him.

Talking more to yourself, you mumble, ‘Better safe than sorry. Let me just get one more finger in -’

Joel chokes so hard that you almost jump back in fright, frowning at him as he catches his breath. ‘Are you okay? Do you need some water?’

His voice tight, he shakes his head. ‘No, I’m fine.’

You wait a beat to make sure he doesn’t go into another coughing fit. When the coast is clear, you gesture at his jeans. ‘Can I just -’

‘Get one more finger in?’ he finishes your sentence in his raspy baritone.

You finally hear it when he says it like that. And oh god, your ears burn as you stare up at him, lips parted, torn between outrage and a very disorienting arousal. ‘You - you -’

A wicked smirk tugs unexpectedly at the corner of his mouth. ‘I already tried, sweetheart. My fingers are too big to fit inside.’

The touch of playful condescension in his tone has your jaw going slack, and your brain practically short-circuits at the thoughts of where else they are too big to fit inside of -

So as it turns out, you’re brave, or just downright stupid, when you’re turned on. Next thing you know, you hear yourself telling him off. ‘I could just leave you in those jeans you know.’

Joel smiles wider, and retorts, ‘I don’t think you would.’

‘Just because I’m shy doesn’t mean I don’t have a mean streak,’ you shoot back.

He seems pleased to have lured you out of your shell, grinning down at you. ‘Believe me, I’m shakin’ in my boots, sweetheart.’

It’s really unfair that he looks this good from where you are on your knees. His eyes are hooded, curls flecked with grays sweeping his forehead. Even though the apocalypse has left its marks on him in wrinkles, frown lines, and smudged bags under his eyes, it has clearly not taken away from that proud nose or plush lips -

Steadying yourself with a deep inhale, you shake yourself out of it. With an in, it’s slightly easier to push in your middle finger into the waistband to widen the gap. Happy with the quarter inch of space, you hold up the scissors. ‘I’m ready to cut if you are.’

He nods his acquiesce. ‘Do your worst.’

Opening up the scissors and carefully fitting the blade beneath the denim, you carefully begin snipping away. They are sharp, but the fabric is tough and you’re conscious of the very tight fit, so you take it slow.

You pause when you’re a couple of inches in, when Joel lets out a groan of relief. Absent-mindedly, you run a soothing thumb over the angry, red indents the waistband dug into the soft pouch of his tummy, sending a shudder through him.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, snatching back your hand as if he burns you.

Too preoccupied with the relief of being able to breathe, Joel shakes his head. ‘Don’t be. Just keep going. Please.’

Why is that one word - six letters - making your breath hitch?

Gripping the top of the now open fly and pinning it against his body so you don’t accidentally see anything you’re not meant to see - whether you want to deliberately is a completely different matter - you hunker down and keep cutting along the zipper.

Each snip gets easier as the jeans release their death grip on him. The right side of the fly falls away as you cut, the denim peeling back slowly to expose the skin underneath. Your eyes drift to the curve of the pubic bone that’s now completely in view, and it’s taking everything you have to not lean over and run the broad of your tongue along it -

How long has it been since you’ve been with a man? When was the last time you had someone stand before you, pants unzipped and hanging open -

With tremendous fortitude, you tear your eyes away to check on him, ‘All good?’

The grunt of respite that he lets out is almost guttural, going straight between your legs. ‘Feels so fuckin’ good to breathe.’

‘Before I keep going, do you want to - uh - rearrange yourself?’

You expect him to turn around, or at least give you a second to turn around to give him some privacy, but he’s obviously been too deprived of oxygen to think straight. One big palm snakes down his front, right in your face, and he cups himself through the denim.

You stop breathing, eyes wide as he adjusts himself.

Holy fuck.

When he’s done, he gives you a thumbs up. ‘All good.’

This is it. You’re not making it out of this alive.

You can barely get the words out, your throat suddenly drier than sandpaper. ‘Can you, um, hold up the other side of the fly?’

When he does, you stare at his hand next to yours. How is it so big? The veins are prominent on the back, leading down to thick fingers, the nails neatly trimmed and clean - but you bet there’s residue gunpowder underneath.

There’s still a slither of skin peeking through the V of the fly as the scissors slice through the denim, following his happy trail. The lower you go, the thicker and darker the curls, and goddamnit - what is wrong with you - all you can think about is burying your nose right in there, nudging through the hair, lower and lower and lower still -

A sharp pain on your left finger makes you yelp, the scissors falling from your other hand to the floor with a loud clang. A small bead of blood wells up on the tip where the sharp blade nicked it, and in a panic, you let go of his jeans.

‘Shit,’ Joel curses and covers himself up quickly, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘You okay?’

You nod in embarrassment while you get on your feet. ‘I - my hand just slipped. It’s nothing, the smallest cut, I’m fine -’

Well, to be fair, you were fine - until he grabs your left wrist, brings your hand up to his face and sucks your bleeding fingertip into his mouth.

As if it’s the logical thing to do.

Your knees buckle, and you collapse into his front, but he doesn’t even budge, as if you weigh nothing. Taking a deep breath - wood smoke, simple soap and man fill your lungs. Peering up at him through your lashes, you spot the silver flanking the hinge of his jaw, leading down to a peculiar bare patch on the left side of his beard.

He watches you back as he releases your finger with a wet pop. Tracing his bottom lip with his tongue, he pronounces, ‘Just a small cut. You’ll live.’

Will you though? Because it feels like you’re on the verge of expiring from breathlessness.

He glances down at his front, which he’s still holding up. ‘I guess I can get out of these now.’

It takes you three seconds to catch up before you stumble backwards. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

‘Thank you for freeing me,’ he says with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head, unable to meet his gaze all of a sudden - hypocrite, you had no problem perving on him a minute ago - and nod at the jeans on the table. ‘Why don’t you try those on?’

He clears his throat. ‘I, uh, should probably put on some underwear first.’

You barely manage to hold back from smacking yourself on the forehead. ‘Of course. We do have some in stock. Boxers or briefs?’

He looks amused. ‘What do you think, sweetheart?’

You hesitate, but you force yourself to be brave and venture a guess. ‘Boxers.’

He winks, and you grin back.

Joel hovers uncertainly in front of the mirror in the fitting room, having exhausted all the angles he can see twice, and wonders if he’s been dithering for too long. He’s not even sure what he’s looking at anymore, so he bites the bullet and draws back the curtain.

‘How do they feel?’ you ask.

He was counting on some hint from you, but you give nothing away. So he shrugs, hands on hips. ‘I honestly can’t tell you.’

‘May I?’

At his nod, you step into his space, and he watches as you hook your fingers into the belt loops on either side of the jeans and pull them up, as if gauging the size. He holds his breath as your hair grazes the front of his chest.

‘They’re a bit loose, to be honest,’ you tell him.

He scoffs self-decrepatingly. ‘Probably not for long at the rate I’m going.’

You take a step back and level him with a glare. ‘Stop it.’

He frowns, hackles rising. ‘What?’

‘Stop putting yourself down.’

That he didn’t expect. He protests, ‘I’m not putting myself down -’

‘Yes, yes, you are,’ you interrupt him with a boldness that has his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. With fire in your eyes, you go toe to toe with him, poking him in the chest with a firm finger. ‘You’re alive, you’re safe here, and you’re fit as hell. If you’re going to make fun of yourself for putting on a bit of healthy weight, you can go ahead and get out of my shop.’

Warmth blooms in his chest as Joel stares down at you, breathing heavily after your little speech but showing no intention of backing down. You don’t know him, but for some reason, you’re fighting his corner.

That shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Pursing his lips, he towers over you as he teases, ‘You think I’m fit as hell, sweetheart?’

With a roll of your eyes, you walk backwards to the shelves, rummaging through the sizes before returning with a pair of dark wash jeans. You quip, ‘Don’t fish for compliments, it’s unbecoming.’

You snap the curtain shut in his face with a flick of your wrist before he can answer, and he chuckles to himself as pulls on the jeans you picked out for him.

When he pushes open the curtain again, Joel doesn’t miss the way you pause as you stare.

The waistband sits on his hips without cutting into his stomach, and he’s pleased that he can comfortably slide his hands into the pockets. The denim wraps firmly, but not tightly, against his backside, holding his thighs comfortably and falling straight down to the ankles. The wash is dark and flattering, smarter than his old ones.

When the silence has stretched on long enough, Joel shifts on his feet and asks, ‘Well?’

You turn the question back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He shrugs. ‘They’re alright, I guess.’

With a tilt of your head, you prompt, ‘You can say it, you know.’

‘Say what?’

‘You can say that you look good.’

Joel huffs, shaking his head and catching his reflection in the mirror as he does. At your look of insistence, he reluctantly parrots back, ‘Alright. I look good. Happy, sweetheart?’

Then you smile, really smile, and he feels himself soften - his eyes, his face, his mouth, his fucking old, rickety knees -

Suddenly, the bell over the door rings and a woman bustles in. ‘I’m so sorry, Pin! I know I’ve been gone a long time, but I got your favourite tea to make it up to you -’

She stops abruptly when she spots him. ‘Hey! You’re Joel Miller, aren’t you?’

Before he can answer, she crosses the shop in a bundle of energy, sticking her hand out. ‘I’m Lucy, I’m a friend of Tommy and Maria’s. It’s so nice to finally meet you.’

He lets her shake his hand, then she continues without skipping a beat. ‘How are you settling in? You got that house in the street near the stables right? It’s great, it’s quiet but not too far from everything -’

Since she doesn’t seem interested in his participation in this conversation, he doesn’t. But he notices, with regret, the way you start to retreat, the shyness making a return in the shadow of her clearly more outgoing friend - like a bad habit.

He’s suddenly aware of a lull, and that Lucy is looking at him expectantly, like she’s just asked a question that he didn’t hear.

‘Yeah sure,’ he replies dismissively, stopping you with a hand on your wrist just as you try to slink away unnoticed. ‘Hey, wait a second -’

To Lucy’s credit, she picks up on the snub and the energy between the two of you at the same time. Instead of taking offence, she gives you a knowing look and points towards the back diplomatically. ‘You know what Pin, I just bumped into Maria and she asked me something about our fabric inventory, so I better go check it out. I’ll see you around, Joel.’

With a wink in your direction, Lucy makes herself scarce, leaving the tea on the counter for you.

Joel’s quiet for a beat when you’re left alone again. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to run off your friend, but I just wanted to uh - thank you. For all this.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘Like she said, I’m Joel. Probably should’ve introduced myself before I asked you to cut me out of my jeans.’

You quip, ‘There’s always next time.’

He chuckles, and asks, ‘Did your friend just call you - Pin?’

‘It’s just a silly nickname,’ you explain. ‘As in pins and needles, for obvious reasons.’

Then you give him your real name and your hand, his palm warm and calloused against yours as he shakes it firmly. When he lets you go, you notice the watch on his wrist, the veins of broken glass on the face catching the light.

Nodding at it, you ask, ‘Do you need that fixed? There’s a repair guy down the road who can fix anything.’

Confused for a moment about what you’re referring to, Joel pauses before realisation dawns on him. His answer is suddenly polite, a stark contrast to the light-hearted conversation just now. ‘No, I - I like it this way. But thanks.’

You don’t miss the emotional weight behind his words, and the air thickens with unspoken meaning, but you know better than to ask.

‘I understand,’ you say simply.

Everyone has something like the watch is to him. God knows you do. A moment of quiet understanding passes between you, one that needs no words.

Breaking the silence, he says, ‘So, you mentioned I’ll need to trade in something else for these jeans -’

You dismiss that notion with a wave of your hand. ‘Oh no, it’s ok. I got it.’

‘You don’t have to -’

You shut him down. ‘It’s not a big deal, it will take me two minutes to replace the zipper.’

He hesitates. ‘And the boxers -’

Passing him his jacket, you insist, ‘Seriously, Joel, don’t worry about it.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes it from you and shrugs it on. You try not to look too conspicuously when the bottom of his shirt draws up, flashing a bit of tummy, but it’s gone too quickly. With a nod, he concedes reluctantly, ‘You really shouldn’t, but thank you. I owe you one.’

You roll your eyes with no real exasperation as you walk him towards the exit. ‘I know you haven’t been here for long - that’s just how things work around these parts. We do things for each other, you don’t owe me anything.’ Pulling the door open, you give him one last grin. ‘Welcome to Jackson, Joel.’

‘Thanks, Pin,’ he says as he crosses the threshold. He pauses on the porch and looks around the high street slowly, as if he’s taking it in for the first time. He then turns to you with a parting wink that is charged with easy confidence. ‘I think I’ll like it here.’

You linger by the door, leaning against the frame as he jogs down the front steps with a swagger, watching in appreciation at the way his new jeans frame his backside. You smile when he slides his hands into his pockets as he walks away, the afternoon breeze ruffling his curls and the sun warming his broad shoulders.

You think you’ll like him here as well.

Notes: As I was writing this, I couldn't help thinking that it reminded me of Grays 🙈 What can I say? I want to give middle-aged men in need of self-love all the reassurance that they need. I hope you enjoyed Pin and Joel's meet-cute, I'm honestly so nervous about this fic I had to stop myself from compulsively over-editing.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 🥰

P.S. Apparently, there is a Main Street Outfitter in the game, so I ran with it.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller oneshot

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greatdenimbeast · 1 month

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Diamond Castle au- introducing, Shadow, Muse of History, Astrology and Astronomy

Once a mortal in ancient Greece, moulded from clay by an inventor and brought to life by the blood of a god, he spent his years caring for his ill sister, Maria. Doing his best to assist his creator in finding a cure. Since the blood of god ran through his veins and, seeing that his existence was a miracle in of itself, it stood to reason that he could be the miracle that helped save her

Cuz he was quite literally born yesterday, his sister loved to tell him stories about historic events, tales of gods and heroes to teach him about the world and how it cane to be. She was a damn good storyteller too, always leaving Shadow craving for more.

His favourites were the ones related to the stars, the constellations, so much so that Gerald noticed and taught him how to properly chart them

Maria wasn’t allowed to leave the house, her grandfather fearing that the elements would be too much for her and that often made her sunny demeanour dull and, looking to cheer her up, he did his best to find ways to brighten her mood until found one that worked

He entertained his bed-ridden sister with tales of history, of old dead heroes, of gods, of prophecies, things that he had picked up from local traders and travellers when he was out running errands for Gerald.

Maria was enthralled by them, hanging off of his every word

“The island of Crete truly holds such a monster?”

“It’s travellers gossip, but who’s to truly say.”

He wasn’t as good of a storyteller as she was but he did keep record of every story he could, and Maria loved it so that was all that mattered

As Maria got worse, Shadow started praying and giving offerings to the god Asclepius and the god Apollo, he doubted they would come to his aid but if there was a chance they could help he wanted to be sure.

But it was getting harder to cure her, some of the medicinal herbs they needed grew far off and the merchants that brought them to the markets to sell them kept marking up the prices out of greed. So Shadow, who had been blessed with inhuman speed, was sent off to pick the herbs himself, allowing him the opportunity to venture and see more of the world and bring back more stories, even making a few of his own, slaying a few monsters on the the way

The soldiers for the nearby king didn’t make it easier, tormenting the people for laughs, outright stealing, sometimes outright killing people when they refused to cave to their demands. Gerald was always being pulled away from his work for a cure to craft machines and statues for the king, the only reason the soldiers were unable to harm him or Maria when he refused was because of Shadow being there to protect them.

This became an issue when the king decided that he wanted Shadow

Soldiers stormed the house and workshop, taking the inventor prisoner, dragging him away to the castle and as Shadow tries to get Maria to safety she pushes him out of the way of blade and gets stabbed through her stomach

Shadow blacks out.

When he comes back, his hands are covered in blood, the bodies of dead soldiers litter the floor, his ears are ringing.

The only other breathing Shadow could hear besides his own was the shaky, laboured breaths of his older sister

He rushed to her side and examined her, the wound was deep, too deep. He tried his beat to clean up the blood but he could barely see what he was doing past his own tears. As he did he prayed, to his other father, to Apollo, to any god that would listen, to please save his sister, to not let her die

Then Maria’s hand squeezing his stopped him

“Sh…Shadow… o-one more story…”

“Maria please, please, i have to treat this, I won’t let you die, i won’t let you, i can’t let you die!”

“One…one m-more… please?”

“…okay… okay, one more story.”

So he shakily told her a story, about the fabled diamond castle, the birthplace of music, home to the museum of music. He struggled to remember parts of the story but Maria shakily helped him fill in the blanks

Then as the story concluded, Apollo made his presence known and applauded the two on how exemplary their storytelling was. It turns out Shadow has gained Apollo’s attention for a while, ever since he started praying to him and he had an offer for him

He wanted him to be his muse, an inspiration, a god. Initially Shadow wanted to refuse until Maria winced and coughed in his arms, then he got an idea

“…Lord Apollo I will accept this honour on one condition, that you heal my sister of her wounds and her ailment so that she may live as freely as she wishes.”

Apollo accepted these terms and gave Shadow, ambrosia (the food of the gods). It burned away his mortality and left him a god

And Apollo fulfilled his part of the deal, healing his sister, and did Shadow one better by turning Maria immortal so that she may be Shadow’s attendant to assist him in his duties before whisking them both off to the diamond castle

50 years later Shadow meets the next muse

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hells-greatest-writer · 2 months

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Self Love Is Hard.

Lucifer Morningstar x Fem Reader

CW: Angst, Negative Body Image, Fluff, Self-Harm Mention.

Synopsis: You would think that when the King of Hell himself chose you as his love, that any doubts you had about yourself would vanish... but one night the thoughts rear its ugly head once more. Word Count: 3,481

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The night was unusually quiet in the hotel. Most mornings were left with redemption exercises that Charlie had planned with the staff and guests, while the night most people stuck together having fun. Usually, you would be with Lucifer in his workshop, reading in your chair while he worked on his little duck creations. Music would be playing on the radio that Alastor had given you that you begged Lucifer to let you keep. You usually looked forward to most nights knowing it would just be you and Lucifer together, though quiet, enjoying each other's company.

Tonight, though it was different, Lucifer was still in the Greed ring dealing with Mammon's temper tantrum over the loss of Fizzarolli, and Lucifer had to deal with the consequences of it. You knew Mammon's temper was one that Lucifer didn't want to deal with, but you had convinced him to go after Ozzie texted you about the ordeal.

Staring at your phone, you scrolled through the messages to Lucifer with a frown.

12:51pm: How is it going with Mammon?

No response

5:22pm: Alastor found a cat today, Charlie decided to keep it as a hotel pet!

No response

8:07pm: Any idea when you're going to be back tonight?

Seen

Lucifer hadn't been responding all day, and though you knew it was because he was dealing with his duties, you couldn't help but feel a bit saddened by it. Usually, he would respond with a witty comeback about how Mammon was an asshole or make a snide remark about Alastor. Instead, though you were met with the word 'Seen' at the end of your last message that was sent hours ago. It was now rounding to eleven thirty at night, and you had thought he would be back by now.

Most of his meetings didn't last this long, you know from past meetings, what if this time something had gone wrong? What if he got hurt in the Greed ring? Could he get hurt? That thought never crossed your mind as you never seen this man injured before. He was the most powerful being in all of Hell, could he truly be hurt? If he was... especially in Greed what would happen? You knew there was a place called Ransom, would they try to take him there? Sell him off to Charlie for a huge fee?!

All those thoughts ended quickly as your phone dinged to life indicating you got a message. Quickly, you sat up opening the message app seeing it was a message from Lucifer.

Luci-Love: Sorry duckling, Ozzie asked me to join him in Lust for a few drinks and to catch up. I'll be home later tonight.

You read the message, your frown deepening as you typed out a message and deleted it a few times. Your mind was beginning to race as to what he would be doing in Lust. You knew of the Succubuses that had tried to get with him last time you and him went to Lust together. It was for an anniversary dinner a few months back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"That woman over there won't stop ogling you." You huffed as you took a sip of your red wine glaring daggers to the woman staring at Lucifer. Ever since you two entered Lust, you could feel their stares at your boyfriend, feel the way their jealousy grew as Lucifer had pulled you closer to him. You weren't usually one to be jealous, but you couldn't help but feel that envy tug in your chest. The demons of Lust were quite beautiful, sexy even if you were honest, so the fact that they were making heart eyes to the man you were with annoyed you.

"And that man won't stop staring at me either, but you don't seem to mind that." Lucifer smirked puffing his chest out as he knew he was being stared at by so many. Why wouldn't they want to stare at the King of Hell, he was a sight to behold! Especially tonight with the way he was dressed. Instead of his usual royal garb of his white suit, he was in a deep red tuxedo with black trims. His usual white top hat, left at home for the evening, leaving his blond locks styled perfectly back.

You cocked an eyebrow to him as he looked at you with a slight smirk on his lips before you felt him take your hands from across the table you sat at. He gave them a gentle squeeze looking into your eyes. "But darling, my eyes are on only you." He hummed, pulling your hand up to his mouth giving your knuckles a gentle kiss.

The simple gesture helped to calm your jealous rage down for the moment, not wanting to ruin your anniversary with him. Though the nagging feeling in your chest didn't waver as the waitress flirted with Lucifer, and he seemed to flirt back. He later explained he was simply being nice and didn't hesitate to show you just who he devoted himself to that night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That nagging feeling was back in your chest as you remembered the Lust ring. A thought tickling the back of your head wondering how many demons were trying their hand at being with Lucifer since you weren't there. How many imps were throwing themselves at him? You knew that Lucifer was loyal, but you couldn't help the doubt that creeped in through the silence.

With a groan, you set your phone down rubbing your face with your hands. You could feel your mind slowly slipping as you imagined what the women who were fawning over Lucifer probably looked like. Gorgeous tall women no doubt with thin waists and bigger assets that would tempt the weak. You knew your body was nothing compared to theirs. You were barely even average in your eyes.

'What does Lucifer even see in me?' Your mind wandered as you moved off the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor of your shared bedroom. You slipped your feet into Lucifer's duck slippers as you grabbed the robe off the headboard and wrapped it around yourself.

You slowly walked towards the bathroom wanting to splash some water on your face. Lose the thoughts that were beginning to eat away at you. Before meeting Lucifer, you struggled to love yourself. You couldn't see what he did, how he seemed to worship your body and love every inch of you. How he was always enamored by your apparent beauty that you struggled to see yourself.

Though through the past almost two years of being with him, he has made you feel beautiful. He reminded you daily how much he adored you and loved you. How you were the only woman he ever wanted to see.

'If that's true, then why wouldn't he just come home? Why go to Lust?' The thought filled your head as you walked into the bathroom flipping the light on. Your eyes went to the mirror and stared over yourself. Your hand tracing your cheeks that seemed too puffy, your fingers tracing your jaw that seemed to jut out too much. Your eyes watched your movements, seeming so dull as they looked lower. Even with the robe on, your eyes were able to pick out the stomach rolls.

Instinctively, you looked down at your stomach, and sucked it in the best you could. It wasn't enough. You could still see your stomach jutting out, mocking you. Your hands grabbed at the extra flesh that was there, squeezing at it as your vision blurred with tears. The women in Lust didn't have this pudge, they didn't have this extra weight around their waists. They didn't have to worry about how their bodies looked in clothes. They didn't have to worry about making sure their skin was fully covered to hide away the stretch marks like you did.

You wished you could just cut the extra flesh off, just grab the scissors that laid in the bathroom drawer and chop away the fat that you were so easily able to grab.

Your hands were shaking now as you looked back to the mirror in front of you, watching your tears roll off your round cheeks. Even your tears were hideous. How did other people cry and not look as awful as you did right now. The longer you stared at yourself in the mirror, the more the tears seemed to blur your vision.

'Hideous beast, he pities you.' That same nagging voice mocked you in the back of your mind. That had to be it, Lucifer only felt pity for you... was only keeping you around till someone better came along or came back. Your mind drifting to Lilith now, the woman who left Lucifer all those years ago.

You had seen images of her, she was breathtaking. Tall, thin and gorgeous with long blonde hair. She radiated beauty. Lucifer and her had been married for eons before you two met, did he still miss her? Did he still find her more beautiful than you?

The phone buzzed from the other room indicating you had a new message which snapped you out of your thoughts, even for a moment. With a deep inhale, you left the bathroom, forgetting why you even went in there in the first place as you walked to the bed grabbing your phone. You were expecting it to be Lucifer, saying he would be home soon. Instead, though, it was just Charlie texting the hotel group chat with a new idea for tomorrow's lesson.

With a quick grunt, you threw your phone across the room watching it slam against the wall by a photo of you and Lucifer. It was a photo of the two of you sitting in a garden together, you are laying across his lap happily giggling at whatever he had been saying at the time. The look in both of your gazes was filled with nothing but love and admiration. The longer you stared at the photo though, the more you were nitpicking each imperfection you saw.

Your hair was too frizzy, your face was too round, the way you were squinting gave you what seemed to be crow lines.

As you stared, your eyes moved to the photo on the dresser. It was a smaller framed photo of Lucifer with Charlie and Lilith. He had offered to get rid of it, but you thought it was a sweet memento for him to have. At the time you at least thought so, but now as you walked up to it and lifted the photo you stared at the other woman in the frame. How did Lucifer go from someone like her, to someone like you? It didn't make sense to you.

As time passed, your mind continued down the dark path of self-hatred and you found yourself sitting on the bedroom floor, your robe long lost leaving you in just your pajama shorts and tank top. In front of you was a broken mirror, shattered after you punched your own reflection. It was obvious that you should clean your bleeding fist, but you couldn't bring yourself to. Maybe you should at least clean the broken mirror before Lucifer comes home. The idea of even moving, though it seemed too much to do, all that seemed to help was sitting on the plush carpet, hugging your legs as you stared at the broken reflection now.

The sound of whirring seemed to snap you out of your thoughts as your eyes looked up seeing the gold and red portal appearing in the room. Through the portal, you saw the purple blue sky of the Lust ring and heard people laughing and having fun. Then, coming into view was Lucifer wearing his usual white and red clothes, except his jacket hung around his arm, and his sleeves were rolled up. The buttons of his white and red pinstripe vest were undone as well, revealing the white undershirt he wore.

After a moment the portal closed, and the room returned to the darkness it had been for the past hour or so as you sulked in the corner.

"Darling, are you awake?" Lucifer asked as he set his coat down on the chair. He didn't notice you weren't in bed yet. He didn't see the broken mirror that you cursed yourself for not cleaning up. Nor did he see you in all your broken glory, eyes red and puffy from crying. Your eyes watched his movements as he moved to the bed only to notice you weren't there. "Darling?" His voice called out till his eyes finally found you.

In an instant, the lights to the bedroom snapped on as he looked at you, his vermilion eyes filling with fright. He took in the scene of the broken mirror in front of you, staring at the broken shards on the floor. His eyes then moved to your body that was trembling, hugging yourself with a bloodied fist. Then his eyes met yours, and the fright filled with a deep sadness as he finally noticed how miserable you looked.

"Oh darling..." He whispered as he walked over to you kneeling taking your hands into his. He examined the wound on your hand, noting the tiny shards of glass that glistened in the blood. He looked upset seeing the injury you had caused yourself, his mind wondering what made you do this.

For the first time in hours, you finally spoke, your voice cracking as you did from disuse "I-I'm sorry." You were sorry now, regretting how you felt, regretting all the thoughts you had knowing this was upsetting Lucifer now. You acted reckless, in your emotions, and now after a long day, Lucifer had to see you wallowing in your pity.

His eyes moved from your hands to your eyes as you spoke. One of his hands tenderly reaching out to cup your cheek to comfort you while the other still held your injured hand, cradling it in his own. "Let's get you cleaned up yeah?" He spoke so gently, as though if he was too loud, you'd break once more. He was obviously concerned about the injury, wanting to make sure it was dealt with before he found out what happened.

You didn't fight him as he helped you to your feet, all the energy you had at this point was focused on not crying once again at how soft he was being with you. You didn't fight as he took you into the bathroom, nor as he guided you to sit on the edge of the bathtub. The cold porcelain of the tub seems to help ground you from the spiraling thoughts in your mind.

Lucifer gently let your hand go as he began searching the cabinet for the first aid kit, muttering under his breath about how it seemed to have grown legs and moved. "Other... Cabinet" you told him, pointing with your good hand at the other cabinet door that he hadn't checked. He glanced over at you with a thankful smile before he grabbed the first aid kit from the other cupboard and sat beside you on the bathtub.

He was gentle as he picked the glass out with tweezers, and careful as he applied the antiseptic onto the wound cleaning it out. The silence of the whole procedure was eating away at you, worried about what he was thinking. He probably thought you were a mess; he probably was annoyed that he had to deal with your mistakes. The fear of him leaving you poking at your mind as tears began to prick at your eyes.

Once your hand was properly cleaned and wrapped, Lucifer brought your hand to his lips, and gave it a gentle kiss. His deep red eyes staring into your own, and those thoughts faded immediately. He didn't look angry or annoyed like you were thinking, instead, his eyes were filled with love and care. Just like in the bedroom, he brought his other hand to your face, wiping away the tear that had escaped your eyes with his thumb gliding across your cheek.

"What's wrong Dove?" He spoke so softly still, calling you by your favorite nickname he had given you. "What happened to the mirror in the bedroom?"

Your gaze finally broke from his as you looked away, looking anywhere else than his eyes. How do you explain to someone who loves you so much, that you doubted that love? How do you explain to someone who reminds you of your beauty daily, that you hated your body? The words seemed to be stuck in your throat, but Lucifer waited, he didn't push as the silence festered between both of you.

The man before you simply kept his hand on your cheek providing a subtle comfort as his thumb continued to caress at your tears wiping them away with each swipe. You couldn't speak still, instead moving your hand to your cheek, holding his. His smile was sad, worried about what was eating away at your mind.

"Speak to me Dove... What is hurting you so badly?" He finally pressed the issue after you didn't answer his first questions. All he wanted to know was what was causing you so much grief, so much pain to have you shatter the floor length mirror in your shared bedroom.

When he left this morning, you were happy. You both had shared a tender moment wrapped in each other's arms before he left to go deal with Mammon. Now though, you were like a hallow shell of yourself, and from the damage from the mirror, Lucifer had an inkling of an idea as to why.

This wasn't the first time you spiraled in your relationship together. He has comforted you just as much as you had comforted him in the time you two were together. He knew firsthand just how bad your mind could be to yourself. The nights where he hugged your crying form for hours proved that. Though he has never seen you this bad before. Just how long had you been alone with your thoughts?

The silence seemed to just grow more between you two, before finally, the tension in your throat keeping you from talking seemed to loosen. With a shaky inhale of breath, you looked at his eyes which stared at yours still waiting for an answer.

"Why me?" You began, your hand leaving his that was still against your cheek and instead fidgeted in your lap as your eyes left his. "There are so many other women out there who are far better suited for you..." That tight knot was back gripping your throat once more making it hard to speak, but you pushed through. "S-so many more women wh-who are more beautiful. M-more appealing, More-"

Your voice was cut off as Lucifer's lips pressed against yours gently silencing you immediately. After a moment he pulled back, his other hand now coming to hold your other cheek.

"My love, there is no one in either Heaven nor in Hell whose beauty can outweigh your own. Even if there was, you are the only woman I desire." He spoke slowly and quietly, staring deep into your own eyes. One of his hands moved and took yours, pressing it against his chest. "My heart beats for you, and for you alone." His other hand moved and took your injured hand tenderly, bringing it to his mouth kissing it once more.

These are words you have heard him say before, words uttered during past spirals. Words he would remind you of every chance he could, no matter how much you couldn't believe them yourself. You knew he was being genuine each time, his eyes holding no falsehoods, his voice never faltering as he spoke. It was the truth, and you never understood just why.

"You are the one I want to spend eternity with no matter the cost. The one who holds my heart in such tangles. I thought when I fell from Heaven, that would be the last time I ever fell. Then you stumbled into my life, and I fell even harder, and I do every single day. It's because you mean so much to me my little dove." He went on, taking the hand against his chest, and brought it up to his lips as well, kissing both of your hands.

The tears in your eyes now weren't from the pain you felt anymore, but from his words. Your partner was perfect in your eyes, always knowing the right things to say, the right movements to do. He knew the words that you needed to hear, and didn't hesitate to let you know every thought.

Without another word you leapt at him, wrapping your arms around his chest, knocking the two of you into the bathtub. The dam broke as he in turn wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. You wept in his arms, burying your face in his shoulder. Lucifer’s hand brushed through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp to comfort you silently, letting you release the emotions you were dealing with. How foolish you had been to let your thoughts get the better of you. How foolish you were to doubt the love this man had for you. You knew deep down you didn’t deserve him, yet he would beg to differ and would deny those thoughts of yours. He would even counter that he didn’t deserve you. When he fell from Heaven, he didn’t think he would be deserving of such love as yours’s, yet you love him day in and day out by choice, and he didn't think he deserved it either. After some time had passed, you had finally calmed down in his arms. Lucifer's hand not leaving your head as he continued to caress your hair, placing a soft kiss on your temple. Your tears finally had dried up, or well dried more so on Lucifer's red and white vest. Lucifer took the time to sit you both up in the bathtub, having you sit on his lap with one more kiss to your forehead. "Let's not go punching mirrors anymore, okay? If you need an outlet for that rage, we can ask Satan for some pointers." He joked as he stood up lifting you with him in his arms, carrying you as though you were weightless. You couldn't help but choke out a laugh nodding as you laid your head against his shoulder. "I learned my lesson... Mirrors fucking hurt." You responded as he carried you into the bedroom. You both would be okay, even if some days are harder than the other, you both had each other to help soften the blow of those hatred filled thoughts. Even if self love was sometimes hard, you knew that even if you couldn't love yourself, Lucifer had enough love to give you in replace of it.

#lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #Hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel oneshot #lucifer morningstar oneshot #lucifer angst #lucifer fluff #TW blood #TW Body image

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jdmisedu · 2 years

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Jewellery Design & Management International School | JDMIS

About JDMIS

The JDMIS is a jewellery design and management school in Asia. The JDMIS is registered with the Singapore Council for Private Education. Singapore-based, The Jewellery Design and Management International School is equipped with seven dedicated classrooms and a large workshop. Our students have ample space to experiment and learn what they practice in their merchandising skills and sell their articles and creations. We offer certified courses for diplomas in both design and management studies.

We are proud elements of JDMIS for our work and Jewellery Making Workshop Singapore. Asia’s education hub, JDMIS welcomes industry professionals, jewellery enthusiasts, and students with a passion for jewellery to explore the world of jewellery design, fabrication, and business. Our Dean and Founder of JDMIS, Tanja Sadow, works with aspiring artisans and members of the top jewellery brand team to help them gain talent in their careers. She is responsible for all academic matters at the school.

Know More

Jewellery Design and Management International School, Singapore.

Email - [email protected]

Tel: (+65) 6221 5253 Fax: (+65) 6223 4318

501 Stirling Road , F-1075 , Singapore 148951

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Instagram

YouTube

#Jewellery Workshop Singapore #Jewellery Making Workshop Singapore #Ring Making Workshop #Gold Jewelry Making Classes

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ladysharmaa · 2 months

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Worry

Jay Halstead x reader

Summary: When Y/n has an accident with Jay's car, she fears his reaction. However, she is surprised by the real reason for his concern

Y/n was still thinking about everything that had gone wrong that day. Her head hurt, probably from the cut on her forehead and the bruise that was beginning to form on her cheek. However, the guilt that settled in her body was the worst of all.

It all started when she woke up late for work. Since she was still an intern at the company, Y/n couldn't be late, or her boss would be even more unpleasant than usual. On top of that, she didn't have a car, as she left it at her house and spent the night at Jay's, her boyfriend of five months, who had picked her up from work.

So Jay lent her the car, saying Hailey could give him a ride. Little did she know that this would be the worst decision ever. When she was returning home at the end of the day, she was at an intersection when suddenly a dog ran into the street. As she tried to avoid it, she hit a car coming in the opposite direction.

The impact was enough for her to hit her head on the steering wheel, hence the cut and bruise. She was so scared, her ears were ringing and she only managed to come out of the shock when the driver of the other car got out of his vehicle and started banging on her window, screaming angrily at her.

Y/n's eyes burned with tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks, but the girl tried to stop them from falling. It would just make her more pathetic, she thought. Other drivers saw what had happened and called 911 and told them what had happened. Fortunately, the other vehicle wasn't as damaged as Jay's.

Her injuries were attended to on the spot, something Y/n couldn't have been happier about. So Will, Jay's brother, couldn't see her and call her boyfriend, only scaring him when he was working. They even let her drive home, since the car was drivable and she could decide which workshop to take it to for repairs.

Now, Y/n was sitting on the couch, anxiously waiting for Jay to get home. She had already thought of many ways on how to tell Jay what happened, but none of them calmed her nerves. He was going to be so upset, he lent her the car and she couldn't even be trusted with that.

Finally, she heard the keys open the door and Jay's voice echoed through the house, "Babe, are you here?" he questioned, hoping she had come to his house instead of going to her small apartment.

"In the living room." she said, keeping her gaze on the ground, not having the courage to look her boyfriend in the eyes and reveal to him what had happened to his precious car.

"Hey, baby." Jay smiled when he saw her sitting on the couch.

However, a frown quickly formed on his face when she didn't get up to greet him. Normally she would jump into his arms and kiss every part of his face until finally kissing his lips passionately. It was his favorite part of the day.

Y/n finally looked up at him when she felt him approaching her. Her eyes filled with tears again and her throat tightened when she saw Jay's face change when he noticed his injuries. He immediately got down on his knees in front of her, gently holding her chin so he could move her face and inspect her cut and bruise. She also noticed the way his hands were shaking.

"What the hell happened?" he questioned, feeling his heart tighten. His gaze then hardened, "Who did this to you? I'll kill them."

"Jay, I'm so sorry." Y/n murmured, her eyes filling with even more tears, which made Jay worry even more. What the hell had happened to his girlfriend and who did he have to beat?

"Why are you apologizing? I'm not understanding, baby. Tell me what happened so that I can fix it, yeah?"

"Your car…" the girl sobbed, unable to say a sentence without tears falling down her cheeks. Jay pulled her to his chest, hugging her until she calmed down enough to tell her what had happened. "A dog crossed the road and when I tried to avoid it I hit a car. And you trusted me with your car and I crashed. I'm so sorry, Jay, I really am and—"

"Slow down, Y/n. Breathe." Jay asked, alarmed by how her face was getting redder since she still hadn't stopped to inhale. His thumb stroked her uninjured cheek, hoping it would comfort her.

"No, I'm sorry. The car is still drivable, but it has a dent and is scratched. But I can afford the repair. I just need a few weeks and talk to my boss to pay me in advance, but I swear I'll sort this out. I know you need a car for work but you can use mine and I'll use the bus in the meantime."

"Y/n!" Jay exclaimed so she would finally shut up and listen to him. He cupped her cheeks carefully, forcing her to look directly at him. "Listen to me, you won't pay for anything. I don't care about the car, I care about you. So please calm down and tell me you're not hurt anywhere else. Please."

"I'm okay." she admitted, seeing Jay's body relax a little and he sighed in relief, running a hand over his face. "I'm just a little sore from the impact. The car is worse."

"Stop talking about the damn car or I swear I'll take it to the scrap yard to be destroyed. I can buy another car or live without it, but I can't live without you. God, Y/n when I saw your face all hurt I thought I was going to have a heart attack."

"I'm sorry…"

"No more apologizing." Jay was quick to order, giving her a stern look, but nothing hid the concern and love that was evident in his eyes. "Why didn't you call me? Did you go to the hospital? What did they say?"

"I didn't go to the hospital. The paramedics saw me there and said everything was fine."

Jay didn't answer her, suddenly getting up and going straight to his cell phone. His jaw was clenched and he looked like he was ready to have another mini heart attack.

"Who are you calling? Please don't bother Will just so he can come here and see how I'm doing. I'm fine, I promise."

"Either Will comes here or we go to the hospital. There's no room for discussion."

Y/n looked down shyly, knowing she wasn't going to win this argument. So, she waited for Jay to finish her call, definitely dramatizing her situation to Will.

When he hung up, he sat down next to her on the couch and brought her into his arms again. Jay squeezed her, needing to calm down and reassure him that she was relatively okay and safe. He placed his face on her neck, breathing in her perfume, which gave him an immediate comfort.

"Why didn't you call me?" he murmured, his voice breaking. He had never felt so worried as he did at that moment. He wouldn't be able to live if something had happened to his girlfriend. She was the one. The love of her life.

"I didn't want to bother you. You were working."

"Y/n, you can never bother me. Please, call me when something happens. I don't care if it's for the simplest reason, call me. I need to know that you're okay. I would never be able to forgive myself if something bothered you happened and I didn't know anything about it."

"I will. Again, I'm really sor—"

Y/n couldn't finish speaking when Jay's lips were on hers, kissing her fervently. He put all the love he felt for her into that kiss, one hand behind her head and the other on her unhurt cheek. Y/n responded to her kiss, placing her hands on his broad shoulders and pulling him closer.

Hesitantly, they broke the kiss so they could breathe. Their faces were so close that they could feel each other's breaths. Y/n snuggled closer to him, loving the feeling of security that only Jay could give her.

"I love you." Jay admitted in a low voice, not wanting to break the comfortable silence. He was looking into Y/n's eyes intensely, showing how true those words were.

Y/n's eyebrows rose upon hearing her boyfriend's confession. It was the first time Jay had said that to her. Her stomach filled with butterflies and a big smile appeared on her face, which calmed the detective's nerves. "I love you."

"God, I love you so much, baby." Jay kissed her again, his hands moving down to her waist.

However, their little make-out session was interrupted by a doorbell. Jay went to open the door, his lips slightly swollen and a smile on his face. However, he returned to his worried state when the doctor started treating Y/n.

His brother was under Jay's attentive gaze, analyzing everything the redhead did with crossed arms. When Will touched Y/n's bruised cheek and she flinched, the detective stepped forward and glared at his brother. "Careful."

Will gave him a look over his shoulder as if saying I'm the doctor here, but didn't open his mouth. Jay was stressed and Will didn't blame him, he knew how much his younger brother liked this girl. He had even told her about asking her to marry him with his mother's ring.

"I think everything is fine apart from that cut, which doesn't need stitches, and ice the bruise. Hmm, the pressure is still a little high. Has anything happened that could have stressed you even more apart from the accident?" Will asked in doctor mode.

"Uhm…" Y/n hesitated, looking shyly at Jay. "Well, let's just say the other driver wasn't too happy about me hitting his car. He was a little scary."

The silence that formed was horrible. Will cringed, knowing that Jay was going to completely flip out. He was already a nervous wreck, and this was only going to make his mood and worry worse. As expected by both, the detective let out a series of curse words, taking his hands to his hair and pulling it. He closed his eyes and clenched his wrists, trying to control himself. At that moment, he needed to comfort his girlfriend and then he would deal with the man who scared her.

"You know the car's registration number, right?" Jay asked her when he calmed down slightly. He sat on the couch, pulling Y/n onto his lap, feeling the need to always be touching her. Y/n nodded. "Good. I'll deal with him later."

"Well, it looks like my work here is done. Y/n, ice your cheek and disinfect the cut. If you feel any discomfort or pain, don't hesitate to call me."

"You sure she doesn't need to go to the hospital, Will?" Jay kissed Y/n's neck, feeling her snuggle closer to him and closing her eyes as she yawned.

"Nothing seems wrong. She just needs to rest and recover."

"Okay. Thanks, man."

"Thank you, Will." the girl opened her eyes and smiled slightly. Then she turned to Jay who instead of making an effort to get up, tightened his arms around her. "Aren't you going to accompany your brother out?"

"He knows the way out." he muttered. Will rolled his eyes, but smiled at the couple and left. He knew Jay would never let Y/n out of his sight again.

Jay kept tracing her cheek lovingly, which was making Y/n sleepy. "Are you tired, baby?"

"Yeah."

"Go to sleep. I'm going to take the week off and I will also call your boss saying you won't be going to work until you get better." Jay said, kissing her forehead.

"That's not necessary. I feel fine." Y/n tried to argue.

"It won't work, Y/n. You're going to stay at home and rest so I can take care of you. I need to know you are safe and okay. And the only way to know that is to have you in my arms. I'll never let you go."

"I kind of like that idea." she chuckled.

"Good." he said, continuing to soothe her into unconsciousness. When he felt Y/n's breathing calm down, indicating that she was asleep, Jay pulled out his phone, calling Voight. "I need you to research the owner of a vehicle. Find what you can to get him arrested, parking tickets, speed limits, I don't care. He scared my girl."

"You got it, Jay. Take care of Y/n."

"I will. Bye." he hung up and focused his attention on his girlfriend again. She was so perfect. "I love you, baby. So much."

#jay halstead x you #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x oc #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #will halstead x reader #chicago fire #chicago med #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x female reader

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scuderiahoney · 5 months

Text

On The Horizon

Max Verstappen x reader // Strawberry Wine Pt IV

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Summary: Like a sunrise over the ocean, there are nothing but good things on the horizon for you and Max.

Word Count: 7.3k

a/n: here she is, part 4 to what was supposed to be a one off story! co-writing credits to @enchantecafe for this one, bc cait helped me workshop basically this entire plot. everyone say thank you cait!!!

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual references, non graphic/non descriptive mention of vomiting, the lightest sprinkling of angst

“You know,” Lando says, eyeing you and Max warily. “You two are usually my favorite couple to hang out with because you’re not super PDA-ey.”

“Aw, thanks, Lan,” you say sweetly.

“I said usually,” he says. He wrinkles his nose. “But lately you guys are gross.”

You laugh. Lando’s not exactly wrong. Even now, you’re standing in the paddock, and Max has his arm around your middle. His fingers rest comfortably against your side, holding you close with your back against his chest. He’s chatting with GP, not even paying attention to Lando, but he keeps you there. You’re not complaining.

You know why he’s being clingy. You know sometimes he still wakes up and worries you won’t be in bed next to him. You feel it too- the lurching feeling in your chest when he’s out of reach. The inescapable urge to hang onto him for dear life. So you don’t complain when he pulls you close or kisses your forehead in public or holds your hand so tight you worry you’ll lose circulation. You’re clinging just as tight, fingers twisted in the fabric of his jackets as you follow him through crowds, your hands in his pockets when you’re chilly, your face pressed to his chest when you get sleepy. When he’d suggested quitting your job and taking time off to travel with him, you’d eagerly agreed.

“You’re just jealous,” you tease, and Lando balks.

“Am not!” He squeaks. His eyes light up, and he leans around you. “Daniel! Aren’t they being weirdly gross?”

He beckons the older driver over. Daniel saunters over to the group of you. Max is finally paying attention to Lando, drawn in by his frantic waving. Out of anyone, Daniel is the only one who actually knows that you probably are being weird, and the reason behind it. His gaze bounces between you and Max, and he smiles. Then he turns to Lando.

“I think you’re just lonely,” he says, and you laugh. “I could be your wingman, if you want.”

“You’re an awful wingman,” Max teases him.

Daniel turns to him, a fire in his eyes and a smirk on his face. “Really, mate? You wanna say that again?”

You look up at your boyfriend. Max rolls his eyes, but his lips melt into a sheepish smile. For a moment you’re a bit confused- you were dating Max before you ever met Daniel, so he’s not talking about you. But then you remember him picking you up from the club when Charles called, and then how he brought you to Max, and you start to laugh.

Lando makes a noise of confusion. “Seriously, they’re being weird!” He whines. “Something changed.” He reaches for your left hand, grasping at your fingers. “No ring, so it’s not that!”

Your cheeks go red, and this time Daniel’s the one who laughs. Max pulls you closer into his chest and sighs. You pull your hand away from Lando.

“Yeah, when are you gonna make an honest man out of Mr. Verstappen?” Daniel asks teasingly.

You roll your eyes and shove at his shoulder. Lando’s laughing now, too, and you feel Max’s chest rumble with a giggle behind you. For just a second, you let yourself imagine it. A different scenario, where Lando asks why you’re being weird and then spots the ring on your finger. Something simple and elegant, and then Max is holding your hand in his and showing it off, telling everyone the story. You want it. You want him to ask you.

You snap back into the present moment with a racing heart.

“Maybe we should be asking him that, no, schat?” Max teases, pointing at Daniel. “He and his girlfriend have been dating longer than us, you know.”

You laugh. Danny does too.

“S’not about who’s been dating longer,” Daniel says, brows raised. “It’s about who buys the ring first.”

Lando falls into a fit of laughter at their teasing each other. You follow suit. But behind you, Max isn’t laughing, at least not really. And Daniel’s staring him down. Weird. Soon, someone’s calling Max over, and he leaves you with a quick kiss to your forehead. Lando breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief.

You find out what was going on with Max and Daniel later. You’re in bed in the hotel suite they’ve put Max in this weekend. You can hear them talking- Daniel and Max. Daniel and Lando came over to hang out for a bit after dinner- Lando’s since gone to his hotel, but Daniel’s got a tendency to stick around. You went to bed early, but now you’re awake again, and you decide to grab a glass of water from the living area and see if you can convince Max to come to bed. You stop in your tracks in the bedroom, door partially open, when you hear your name. You shouldn’t eavesdrop, you know. But god, you can’t help but want to know what they’re saying. Besides, they’re not exactly being quiet.

“- don’t know, Daniel,” Max says. You hear the scrape of a fork against a plate. “I don’t want to move too fast, you know.”

Daniel scoffs. “You bought the ring months ago. You still have it, don’t you?”

You slip your hand over your mouth. Your heart clenches in your chest. No. That would mean- There’s no way-

“Of course,” Max says. “But it was before… the break, you know?”

“But things are good now?” Daniel asks.

“Of course. Things are good. Maybe better, you know? I just…” he sighs, and you can almost picture him, staring at the counter, rubbing his thumb against it. “I don’t want to scare her off. That comment you made earlier. She looked like a deer in the headlights.” Max sighs again.

“She looked like she was in love with you. Which she is.” Daniel counters.

“Things are good. I don’t want to fuck it up. I’ll wait until I’m sure.”

“And what if you wait too long?” Daniel asks.

You don’t stick around to hear his response. You close the door and make your way back to the bed as quietly as you can, and then crawl back under the covers. Then you stare at the ceiling. Max bought a ring. Max bought the ring before you asked him to take a break. That means that when you said you needed space, Max had been thinking about asking you to marry him. God, you feel sick to your stomach.

When he crawls into bed a while later, you pretend you’re asleep. You can’t shake the heavy guilty feeling- it clings to your bones. You think of Max, the way you left him asleep in your bed that morning, and how he probably had the ring in his bedside drawer. Next to you, he rolls over and wraps his arm around your waist, presses his lips to the shell of your ear. “I know you’re awake.”

You sigh softly, melt back into him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs. “Talk to me?”

This is his new thing. It’s helping a lot, actually. He notices you slipping, and he calls you out. Talk to me. You’ve gotten so used to it that you’ve started using it, too. Can I just talk to you? He smiles every time you ask, even if you’re close to tears. Because it means you’re trying.

You want to talk to him. You want to apologize, to tell him you heard him talk about the ring, to beg him to forgive you for leaving him that morning. You think of all the times you woke up without him there and how your chest had ached, and you wonder how awful it must feel to reach for someone who isn’t there, expecting skin under your fingers and only finding cold sheets.

But that’s something you’ve talked about and apologized for already. He won’t understand why you’re upset about it all over again unless you admit you heard him talking, and then you’ll have ruined that, too. If, someday down the line, he does decide to ask you, you don’t want it to be because you know about the ring. You don’t want to pressure him into it.

So you roll over in his arms and wrap yourself around him. “I was half asleep, but I was waiting for you,” you say. “I don’t sleep as well when you’re not here.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not the whole truth, either, but it seems to work.

He kisses your forehead, and then your lips. “I’m here, now. Whenever you need me, I’m here.”

…..

You love the ocean. The sounds, the beautiful blue expanse of it, the sand between your toes. You love Max on vacation even more- skin sun warmed, a hazy smile on his lips. So when he suggests a trip to Greece for the summer break, you don’t even have to think about it. He rents out a little villa at a beach resort, one where you’re only steps away from the water and a short walk from everything else you could possibly want. The first night you’re there, you barely make it through a quick room service dinner before you fall asleep, exhausted from the last few weeks of traveling.

The first full day there, though, is magical.

You wake up just after sunrise, pale morning light filtering in through the curtains. Max is still asleep, snoring softly. His hand is resting on your back. You lay there and trace his face with soft fingertips. The slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw, the line of his brow. You could watch him sleep like this forever, you think, as you brush your thumb over his Cupid’s bow.

He wakes up eventually with a flutter of his eyelashes and a stuttered sigh. You take the opportunity to press yourself close and worm your way into his arms. Max isn’t always cuddly, but when he’s only half awake he’s much more receptive to it. He laughs when you press your face into his bare chest, and he wraps his arms around you happily.

“Hi, my love,” he murmurs, squeezing his arms around you tightly. “Good morning.”

“Hello,” you say back drowsily. “Missed you.”

He laughs. “I was right here.”

“I know,” you say.

You didn’t mean for it to be sad, but suddenly your chest feels tight. Max doesn’t push or prod or question you. He just holds you a little bit tighter, lets his hand trace a line up and down your spine. He bends his head to kiss your temple. Both of you know without having to say it. When you say you missed him, you’re not just talking about now. You’re talking about all the time you were apart. Eventually, the feeling passes. You let out a breath, and Max does too.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks. “We could go get breakfast.”

His voice is scratchy and sleep muddled. Part of you wants to ask him to just lay here with you all day. You think he might agree to it.

“It’s 1:00 in the afternoon,” you tell him, and he lets out a laugh.

“We were tired, huh?” He says.

“I’ve been awake,” you tell him. “Waiting on you.”

His hand slips lower, and he pinches your hip lightly. You squeak and try to squirm away, but he holds on tight. Then his fingers are digging into your side as you try to shove him away. He rolls the two of you over until he’s laying on top of you, and then he drops his whole weight on you. You let out a groan.

“We could stay in bed all day,” he suggests.

“Sounds boring,” you joke, despite the fact that you’d just had the same thought.

Max muffles a laugh into your collarbone. “I can make it interesting.”

You sigh softly when he disappears under the covers. His hands slide down your bare sides, and you think maybe he’s right.

You finally crawl out of bed by 2:30 and head for the shower. Max, of course, tries to follow you, but you banish him from the bathroom, insisting that you want to go do something, knowing he’ll never let you out of the hotel room if he gets his hands on you again. You trade places with him after you’re done, though he tries his best to coax you back under the warm spray of water with him. It almost works. Finally, by 3:30, the two of you set off for a walk along the beach.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

His fingers are knit with yours, and the two of you walk in step with each other. He’s wearing a white button up, the top two buttons undone. His hair is perfectly tousled, still damp despite your attempts to blow dry it for him after you dried your own. And god, the smile on his lips, that peaceful little grin, makes your heart melt.

“M’starving,” you admit, bumping your arm against his.

He smirks down at you. You elbow him deliberately this time. He keeps your fingers together as he laughs. You never want him to let go.

“Let’s get you some food, then,” he says.

You have a wonderful, very late lunch at a little seafood place right on the beach. You spend the rest of the daylight lounging on the beach with him. He lays out a beach blanket just down the shore from your villa and carries all the supplies down for you- snacks and towels and sunscreen and your book off the nightstand. You lay in the warm sun and listen to the crash of the waves and watch the rise and fall of his back. He’s going to fall asleep on the beach and get sunburned if you’re not careful, so you drag him into the water instead. Waves crash around your legs and tug at your toes. He follows you willingly, knee deep in bright blue. His hands fall to your hips, warm and sandy on your bare skin.

If you could stay right here with him forever, you would. You’d let the ocean swallow both of you whole and hold on tight to him. That fleeting thought passes your mind again, along with the tight feeling in your chest, and you try to push it away. You almost lost him.

Max cocks his head at you and squeezes your hips. “Talk to me.”

You sigh. “I just. I almost lost you. I almost fucked everything up so badly.”

Max doesn’t argue, but he brushes his lips against your forehead and says. “But we’re here now.”

“I just feel guilty sometimes, you know? When we have these nice moments, I feel like I don’t deserve them.” You say.

He nods and then cups your face in his hands. His thumbs press gently into your cheeks. His eyes are like the ocean, wide and blue and washing over you.

“I love you,” he says, so heartfelt it makes your head swim. “And we’re here. I’m not going anywhere. You deserve all of this. There’s nobody I’d rather be here with than you.”

Eventually, standing in the water and staring up at him, the feeling passes. It melts off your shoulders and washes away with the waves. You tell him you love him, too, and watch the words wash over him like water.

Two days later, you share an even later dinner in the fancy restaurant near your villa. It’s a white tablecloth, candles in the centerpiece sort of affair. You almost feel underdressed in your long sundress, but Max tells you you look beautiful and that’s more than enough for you. You have good food and better wine and you hook your ankle around his under the tablecloth. It’s everything you want it to be, and it’s only the first day.

Neither of you really feel like sleeping, even though it’s nearly 2am by the time you make your way back to your villa. The world is dark outside, the sun having sunk below the horizon hours ago. Max is laying on the bed, legs hanging off the edge as you putter around the room, humming to yourself and picking up the clothes you left everywhere while you got ready for dinner. He’s watching you, you can feel it.

“You know what I wish we had?” You voice.

He props himself up in his elbows to look at you. “What, schat? Anything you want, I’ll get it for you.”

Heat swirls in your stomach, and you turn to stare at him. “Strawberry wine.”

Max juts his chin towards you. “You said you didn’t like the taste of it anymore.”

He’s talking about the night where he found you on the rooftop. Your hands fall to your sides, and your chest feels tight again. You wish that feeling would just go away.

“No, I- it’s not…” you sigh. “I do. I was just feeling so guilty, and drinking it just reminded me…”

Max nods in understanding. He pushes himself up to sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look in my suitcase.”

You frown and stare at him. He nods again, and you turn to where his suitcase sits on the dresser. You flip the lid open, face to face with his clothes. When he doesn’t say anything, you dig past the layers until your hand hits glass. Your heart lurches in your chest and tears prick at the corner of your eyes. God, you love him.

You wrap your hand around the bottle and reach for the beach blanket, sitting on the dresser next to the suitcase. You turn back to Max, cradling the bottle of wine to your chest. He’s smiling up at you from the bed.

“You should find a corkscrew,” you tell him. “And meet me on the beach.”

Max laughs as you step out of the sliding glass door and head for the ocean. Then you hear him scrambling to follow.

“I was going to save it for the last night,” he tells you when he meets you on the beach. “But this seems perfect.”

You hold the bottle out to him. “Why wait?”

He takes it from you and pulls the cork out with expert precision. You watch the way his arms flex as he does, lit up in pale moonlight. He hands the bottle to you so you can have the first drink. It’s warm and far too sweet, but it’s exactly what you wanted. You sigh happily and hand it back to him. He seems to brace himself before he takes a drink. Anxiety blooms in your chest.

“I still like it,” he reassures you, knowing you’ve caught the look on his face. “I just. I got sick once and threw it up. It’s not as good on the way back up.”

You frown, taking a step closer to him. The sand is cool between your toes. When you grab his hand, it’s warm and firm.

“You got sick? When?” You ask.

The look on his face makes your stomach lurch, and suddenly you wish you hadn’t asked.

He tilts his head. “Do you want to know now?”

It’s going to hurt, you know. You get glimpses of Max, of what he went through when you were apart, and they tear you to shreds. But in the same way you owe him answers to how you’re feeling, you owe him this, too. He’d been hesitant to tell you things at first, worried you were only trying to punish yourself. But he understands now, though he still gives you the chance to back out each time.

You nod. He sighs and sits down. You sink onto the blanket next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. He takes another sip from the bottle before he hands it to you, and then he tells you.

It was the night he came home while you were there gathering stuff to take back to Audrey’s with you. He’d had Italian food and a bottle of wine, asked you to have dinner with him. Space, Max. You can remember how you said it, the tired defeat in your voice. How small he looked sitting in the kitchen. You’ve often wondered what would’ve been different if you’d just sat down with him that night.

He tells you then, on the beach under the stars, what happened after you left. How he’d tossed his food in the trash, put yours in the fridge like maybe you’d come back for it. Then he took the bottle of wine onto the balcony, stared at the lights of the city, and drank the whole thing.

“Sugary wine on an empty stomach,” he says, lightly. “Not a good mix.”

You don’t laugh. You never do when he tells you these things, despite how casual he tries to make them sound, how he tries to play it off. He’s trying to protect you by joking about it, you know. But the thought of him throwing up all alone, in the home the two of you made together, makes you feel sick. You wrap your arms around his upper arm and try not to cry. He grabs your knee with his other hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I’m so sorry.”

He shushes you and rests his head against yours. “We weren’t ready to talk,” he says, so sure of it that you just know he’s right. “If you’d have sat down we both would’ve acted like nothing happened and then…”

You’d have ended up right back where you started, sooner or later.

You sniffle. “Yeah.”

He takes another drink. “I love you,” he says, because you think he thinks if he says it enough you might really believe it again. “So much. More than strawberry wine or racing or anything in the whole world.”

You press your hand over your mouth. “I love you. You are my whole world, Max.”

The time slips away like sand through your fingers. You sit and talk and talk, about everything and nothing at all. You kiss and hold each other close. The stars shine above your heads, and the moon lights up the water. You draw designs in the sand with his fingers. Waves crash on the shore and wash them away, and you think each one washes away just a little bit more of the pain you’ve been feeling. You dig your feet into the sand, press your hands to the ground, and breathe deep. Next to you, Max watches and laughs and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“My sweet strawberry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I missed you.”

You know he’s not talking about now. In front of you, you see the sun begin to peek up over the horizon. You blink through a fresh blur of tears and hold onto his elbow. Sleep is pulling at your bones, but the sun is rising and painting everything pink. You stand up, take his hands, and drag him to the water’s edge. He chatters about your dress, about how much he likes it and doesn’t want the saltwater to ruin it. You turn towards the sun, your back to him, and pull it over your head, leaving you in your bra and underwear.

He chokes, and when you turn over your shoulder to look at him, he’s searching the beach frantically. “Nobody’s awake,” you tell him. “It’s just us.”

He’s grinning at you then, cheeks rosy pink even without the help of the sunrise. And then he pulls his shirt over his head and hops his way out of his shorts. You run into the waves before he can get to you, and he follows, fingers reaching for yours.

When he wraps his arms around you, both of you tumble into the water. You come up for air next to him in the pink sea. He kisses you between laughs, waves crashing around you, and it mends another piece of your heart. His too, you think.

…..

You see Daniel in the paddock at the first race after the summer break. He greets you both with hugs and then reaches for your left hand. He sighs dramatically and rubs his thumb against your empty ring finger, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“He’s got absolutely no balls, does he?” Daniel teases.

Next to you, Max scoffs.

You look up at Daniel and sigh forlornly. “I got my nails done and everything, Danny.”

Max chokes on a laugh. “You would’ve gotten them done either way, we were on vacation!”

You shrug and look up at him, winking conspiratorially. Daniel is already off on a tangent about nails and beaches and perfect proposals. But you watch Max’s face, the way he smiles down at you, and you hope he knows you’re ready. That you’d follow him anywhere if he just asked you to. He ignores Danny’s ramblings and kisses your temple. Nearby, Lando sees it and groans loudly.

…..

In the early fall, for the first time since the break, Max heads off to a Grand Prix alone. He leaves you behind in your shared apartment. It feels strange. It didn’t used to be like this- both of you were good at being independent, at understanding you couldn’t be together all the time. But now you sit at the kitchen island and stare at his empty seat and wonder why you didn’t just go with him.

This feeling will fade, you remind yourself. If Max was here, he'd reach out and hold your hand. But he’s in another country, in a hotel room somewhere, probably already asleep. You have to get used to being alone sometimes. You sit at the counter and scroll on your phone and try not to think about how quiet the apartment is. When you’re finished eating you join the cats on the couch, finding comfort in other living beings and the way they remind you of Max. You think back to when you were first seeing each other, the way they followed you around and Max called them traitors. They still seem to like you more most days.

You wake up hours later with a dry mouth, face smashed against the couch cushion. The tv is still on, playing some show that definitely isn't what you were watching. Someone’s phone is ringing on the show.

No. Wait. Your phone is ringing. You scramble for it, heart racing when you see Max’s face on the screen.

“Max?” You answer.

You hear a soft sniff, and then a huff. “I was trying to get your voicemail. Did I wake you?”

“No,” you lie. “I was up. M’watching-“ you rub your eyes and stare at the TV screen. “Watching Say Yes to the Dress.”

“At 3 in the morning?” He says, bewildered.

“It’s 3am?” You ask, sitting up. “Shit, I should go to bed.”

You can almost hear Max rolling his eyes. “Did you fall asleep on the couch?”

“I was awake,” you insist. “Hold on, why were you trying to get my voicemail?”

Max sighs. “Schatje, you should go to bed.”

“Max.”

“I woke up and you weren’t here,” he admits. “I haven’t woken up without you since the break… and I can sit here and tell myself everything is fine but I wanted to hear your voice.”

“So really, it’s better that I answered,” you tell him.

He sighs again. “Yes, but you should be sleeping.”

“I haven’t gone to bed without you here since then,” you remind him. “I might be avoiding it a little bit.”

He hums. You hear the sheets rustle on his end. “Why don’t you go lay down in bed, and we can talk until you fall asleep?”

It sounds nice, so you agree. You head for the bathroom and brush your teeth while Max tells you about his day. You put the phone on speaker while you change your clothes and tell him about the cats and the lady at the coffee shop that morning who complimented your outfit- he, of course, asks for pictures. Then you lay down in bed, clad in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear, and snuggle deep into the blankets. You wrap your arms around his pillow, press your nose in it, and close your eyes. As he talks quietly, you can almost pretend he’s there.

When you wake up and he isn’t next to you, tears spring to your eyes. But the cats are curled up in bed with you, and the sheets still smell like him, because he hasn’t been gone long and he’s coming back, sooner than it feels. You’ll make it through this, and when you see him again you know he’ll hold you close and kiss you and tell you he loves you. And then he’ll beg you to never let him sleep alone again.

You remind yourself that soon enough you’ll be back to traveling with him. You’ve just missed out on a lot of time with friends in the past few months, busy reconnecting with Max and yourself. Both you and Max had thought maybe it was a good time to do a trial run, to remember what it’s like to be away from each other. At first, it sounded like he was suggesting space, which had nearly sent you into a tailspin, but he explained and you realized he was right. Honestly, though, you hate it, so you’ll be taking him up on his offer to follow him across the globe for the rest of the season. You’ll have to go back to work and your normal life eventually, but not yet.

When you tell him that, he’s all smiles and no complaints.

“I missed you like hell,” he says.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” you reply.

…..

When the winter break finally starts, after Abu Dhabi and all the other little events he has to go to post season, you and Max fly home and sleep for nearly 12 hours. When you wake up, the sun is low in the sky, your mouth is dry and tastes awful, and there are lines from the sheets pressed deep into Max’s cheek. He smiles at you from his spot on the pillow, and then he kisses you even as you protest about your probably awful morning breath. You think back to the first time you woke up in bed with him, how timid you were then, how you’d brushed your teeth before he even woke up. Now here you are.

It’s 9:00 in the morning, and Max suggests going for a drive. You tease him, ask if he hasn’t done enough driving this year, but you agree anyways. You ask where to, and he says it’s a surprise. The two of you take your time getting ready, having nowhere to be at any specific time for the first time in what feels like forever. You throw on a sundress and comfortable shoes and bring along a light jacket. Max grabs drinks and snacks for in the car, and then you’re off.

He drives like he knows where he’s going, despite the fact that the route doesn’t seem very familiar to you. He’s not headed to Nice, or Italy, or towards any of your favorite breakfast restaurants in Monaco. But you love him, and he has this excited smile on his face, so you don’t ask questions.

You play music from your phone on the way, a mix the two of you started when you first started dating and have continued to add to since. It’s mostly your music and songs you think he might like, but he adds a few every so often. Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles comes on, and you both look at each other with wide smiles. He takes your hand as you both sing along. You think about months before, how burned out and worn down you were, and how happy you are to just be next to him now. Here comes the sun, indeed.

Eventually, he maneuvers the car through the French countryside. You spot a little roadside farm stand and tug on his hand. The sign boasts about fresh flowers and fruit, and Max squeezes your hand in response.

“Want some flowers?” He asks.

“Always,” you say.

He pulls into a parking spot. You follow him out of the car and up the path to the farm stand. There are rows upon rows of flower bouquets, vegetables, bread, and…

“Strawberries,” you say, softly. “It’s December, how do they have fresh strawberries?”

It should be impossible. You know when to get the best strawberries- the middle of July, when they’re fresh picked. But these are bright and red and you swear you can almost smell the sweetness. You turn to look for Max, who’s inspecting the flowers, trying to pick the perfect bouquet.

“Max,” you say, and he looks up at you with a smile. “Strawberries.”

He raises his brows and grins widely, making his way to you. He nudges your shoulder with his, looking down at the containers of berries.

“You want some?” He asks.

“I mean, yeah, but- it’s winter, it’s so far out of season,” you say. “How are they fresh?

“We grow them in the greenhouse,” a girl says in a heavy French accent. You look up at her, and she’s smiling at you. “You like strawberries?”

“They’re my favorite,” you say.

“Would you like to see?” She asks, pointing behind her. “They’re perfect right now.”

You look at her with wide eyes, then look to Max. “Can we?”

“Of course,” he says, the soft look on his face that he reserves just for you. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in there. I left my phone in the car, you’ll want pictures.”

He scurries off and leaves you alone with the girl. She waves you along towards the domed greenhouse. When she opens the door, warm air pours out- it’s not cold outside, really, but it’s much warmer in the building. You step in and breathe in the humid air, and it smells like strawberries.

There are rows upon rows of the plants on tables, growing wildly, covered in berries. Tiny white flowers dot between the green leaves. There are little round string lights hanging from the ceiling, lighting up the greenhouse even on the cloudy day. You take a step towards the aisle, then stop yourself, but the worker nods. You stroll between rows of strawberry plants, a little haven in the middle of the countryside in France.

“We sell them here, and then we also send them to a winery just down the road,” she tells you. “We grow them all year. The farm owner, his wife loves strawberries.”

You smile softly, running a finger over one of the delicate leaves. “So do I,” you say.

You hear the door open, and Max steps inside, looking around with a soft grin. His eyes are lit up. You wave him over, entranced by the tiny white flowers.

“I’ll leave you two to explore,” the girl says. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

She shuts the door behind her. Max makes his way towards you. His footsteps fall softly on the ground. You have the urge to pause this moment forever. He steps up next to you and slips his hand into yours, fingers intertwined, slotted together like puzzle pieces. If you could hold onto him forever, you would.

It’s just. Forever sounds nice, doesn’t it. His wife loves strawberries. How romantic. How sweet. That’s love, in its purest form, isn’t it? To know what your person likes so much that you’ll defy nature to give it to them. Build a greenhouse and fill it with plants just for them. You’d move the world for Max. You know he’d do the same for you. And that’s enough- that’s more than enough, it’s everything you’ve ever needed and the strawberry on top, too. You feel his thumb brush against the back of your hand and think you’d be happy with just this, just him, forever. You don’t need a ring or a piece of paper to tell you that. His hand in yours is enough.

And then you turn and find Max kneeling down, a little black box in his hand.

Your heart is suddenly racing, all the air sucked out of your lungs. Tears fill your eyes immediately, but you’re smiling so wide you think it’ll split your whole face. Max keeps one hand linked with your left one, and you raise the other one to cover your mouth. You’re going to cry before he even says anything. You glance up at the ceiling to try to will the tears away, but then he says your name and you’re drawn right back to him.

He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Liefje,” he says, voice wavering with emotion. “I love you so much. I have for a long time now. And I want more. I want forever.” He opens the box, and you don’t even bother looking at the ring. “Will you-“

“Yes,” you squeak out, before he can even really ask if. “I love you, yes, I-“

He laughs, slides the ring onto your finger with shaky hands. And then you’re reaching for him, pulling him up towards you, desperate to kiss him. His lips meet yours and that last little piece of your heart falls into place. Because yeah, forever sounds pretty great.

He holds you close, and you rest your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest. He reaches for your hand so he can look at the ring on your finger. There are tears in his eyes, now, too. You brush them off his cheeks with a shaky thumb.

It washes over you, suddenly. “Oh my god, you knew!” You say, wide eyed. “You didn’t just see the sign and ask if I wanted flowers, you-“

He laughs and cups the side of your face in his free hand. “I knew. I found you strawberries in the winter.”

A love so big you’d defy nature to give them what they want. His love is so big you’re not sure you’ll ever feel like you deserve it. But he stands there and holds you and whispers the sweetest things in your ears, and you know it’s true. You know it because it’s exactly how you feel about him. You’d give him the world if you could.

“I love you,” you say.

It’s all you can say, it’s everything, and it’ll never be enough to explain how you feel. You think he gets that, though.

He takes pictures of you in the strawberry house, has you hold your left hand over the plants to get the perfect photo. He admits that he’d had the worker take some photos through the door, too, on a nicer camera that the owners of the farm had offered when he planned this whole thing. They’ve promised to send the pictures later. When you leave the greenhouse, the worker is smiling knowingly. She hands you a bouquet of white flowers and a large container of strawberries, and says they’re a gift. You wonder if there’s a way to keep the strawberries forever. You wish there was.

As you walk to the car, you see an elderly man standing at the house nearby, his wife clinging to his arm. They’re waving. You and Max wave back, and your heart fills with warmth. It feels like a blessing.

“Where to now?” You ask.

He shrugs, grin wide as ever. “It’s lunchtime, and I hear there’s a winery down the road.”

You talk his ear off on the drive, about how much you love him and the ring and the strawberries and how you hope the wine is as good as your wine. He laughs and tells you he loves you too, and that he hopes the same. It’s only when you see the sign out front that you realize.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, tears already forming in your eyes again. “Oh my god.”

He laughs, puts the car in park, and leans over the center console to pull you close. “All this time, and we never knew this place was this close, huh?”

On the sign, there’s a logo. It’s one you know well. You’ve seen it countless times on bottle labels and corks, the ones that sit in his bedside table and in your jewelry box. It’s your wine. For a split second, the feeling is back- you don’t deserve this, a tight weight on your chest, crushing your rib cage. But Max is holding you, and there’s a ring on your finger that says he wants you forever. You didn’t lose him. You figured it out together, the way you always do and always will.

And now he’s brought you to the place that makes the wine that started it all. He brought you to see where they grow the damn strawberries. Back to the very beginning of it to start a new future.

“I love you,” you repeat, because you don’t think you could ever tell him enough. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, schat,” he says, pressing the words right into the skin of your temple. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He slides the ring off your finger at the table inside the winery, even though you protest immediately. But then he turns it over, holds it out to show you the inside. A tiny strawberry, engraved in the metal.

“So you always have strawberries,” he says. “No matter what time of year or where you are.” Then he slides the ring back on your finger before tapping on the stone. “And to remind you that you always have me. No matter when or where.”

You let the tears run down your cheeks at the table and hold onto his hand tightly. He’s tearing up again, too. Neither of you seem to mind. How could you, when there’s a bottle of strawberry wine in a bucket on the table in front of you, and forever on the horizon ahead of you?

…..

Two days later, when you finally make it home- he’d booked a hotel for you to stay at for a couple nights with the deepest tub and softest bed you’ve ever seen- you take him by the hand and drag him to your bedroom. He starts laughing, like he thinks he knows what’s happening. But you drag him to your nightstand instead of the bed and slip your hand into the drawer, coming out with a thin black box that you hand to him.

“I knew you’d want to be the one to pop the question, but I knew when that did happen… I would want you to have something, too,” you say, softly.

Inside the box is a gold cuff bracelet. He picks it up and turns it in his hand, thumb brushing against the smooth metal. You watch him look at the inside of it, and when he sees the strawberry engraved there, tears fill his eyes. He slips it on.

“I cut a little piece off the cork from the first bottle,” you tell him, as you rub your thumb against his wrist and the bracelet. “And they ground it up and mixed it with the metal. I’m sure it, you know, got hot and burned up or whatever, but the essence is there,” you say with a shrug. “So that wherever you are, you’ll have that with you. I mean. If you want to wear it-“

“Liefje,” he says, voice wavering. “Thank you. I love it. I love you.”

The look on his face is so soft it makes your heart melt. He kisses you then, and you feel the bracelet press against your jaw as he holds your face in his hands. You press your left hand to his cheek and you know he feels the ring there, too. Love in physical form, finally resting on your skin and his instead of hidden away in bedside drawers. It’s almost relieving. Like something you’ve been waiting a long time for has finally fallen into place.

Check out the final part of the series, Love Of My Life!

a/n: did you catch the dialogue from the poll? hope so :) thanks for reading!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @ggaslyp1

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bambihrt · 4 months

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Celebrating your Anniversary with Lucifer Part 2

I wasn't planning on writing a second part but after seeing how loved part one was I just had to so enjoy!

Lucifer considered himself a nervous demon. Blame his abandonment issues for that. He knew you loved him, but he couldn't help his anxiety telling him that you'd leave just like everyone else has. One night when sleep couldn't find him, he snuck into his workshop to fiddle with his ducks to distract him from his worries. All of a sudden he felt two arms circle his neck and you nuzzle to his left side.

"C'mon baby, you can work tomorrow, let's go to bed."

Though he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, he took your hand and let you lead him to your shared bedroom. As he crawled under the covers, you snuggled up next to him. holding him as you pet his hair. Throughout this whole encounter, he was silent and had a distant look in his eyes. You could see through this act immediately and knew what the cause of his nighttime anxiety was.

"I can't wait to wake up next to you forever. I'll always be here with you Lucifer. I love you."

After that night you made sure to always validate his feelings when he was having a moment of low self-esteem. You started leaving notes around your home for him to find at random moments. Opening the pantry he'd find a note on his favorite cereal telling him 'good morning lu!' and opening his tool box he'd find another post-it saying 'can't wait to see what you create :D'. Through these little actions, he'd learned to trust that you will be there for him.

One day while you were out to see your friends he was having a bit of a depressive episode and didn't want to bother you while you were enjoying yourself so he went into your office. He grabbed your favorite plushie knowing it would smell like you and give him comfort. As he turned the stuffed animal in his arms he felt a crinkle and pulled what was stuck on it off. A note reading 'call me love :('. This moment was when he knew.

Lucifer had to marry you. Nothing would make him happier than the honor of being your husband.

Bringing him back to the present day, he watched you try and hook a golden duck for him in the game you made. Of course, you would do something so special for your anniversary. You weren't the only one with a surprise up your sleeve. He checked his watch noting it was almost time.

"(Y/n)? My love? I've left my phone inside I-"

"Oh I'll go grab it don't worry," you immediately cut him off not wanting to make him go in on his own. As you headed inside the hotel, you were met with a trail of rose petals leading you under the chandelier. "What is this?"

Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer was walking behind you and cleared his throat stealing your attention away from the grand decor around you. He got down on one knee and pulled a box out of his pocket.

"I thought it was only fitting to do this in the very place we met and on our anniversary. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special. You showed me the light when I was stuck in a dark place and ever since then, I've loved you more than anything. You have been the best partner I could ever dream of. There's only one thing that could make my life perfect and that would be you agreeing to marry me. (Y/n) my heart and soul, will you allow me to be your husband?"

Nodding, you couldn't get the words out as you began crying. You had no idea Lucifer had been planning this. A high-pitched squeal came from behind as Charlie jumped out throwing rose petals over you, "I'm so happy you're joining our family!"

Lucifer reached out to your hand, slipping the most beautiful ring you'd ever seen onto your finger, and gently pulled you into a tender kiss. Softly whispering, "Thank you for everything, my love."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer

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springlockscars · 6 months

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oral fixation (w.afton/fem!reader)

pairing: william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader content tags: oral fixation, oral sex, body worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, praise kink, william can not keep his mouth off you. summary: William has an obsessive habit of chewing and biting things, especially when he's stressed. You interrupt his work at just the right time. word count: 2,898 read on AO3

18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.

note: I am so glad I received this because I love oral fixation fics.

In public, Steve’s mannerisms, his facial expressions, were a well-rehearsed performance. Not a single person would be able to see the crime scene he cleaned up a week ago through the crease in his eyebrows, or the screams of a victim he still heard ringing in his ears in the way he sipped bitter coffee from a chipped mug; they simply were not there.

No, Steve Raglan was an ordinary guy. A little peculiar perhaps. Sometimes he tried a little too hard to be funny, and that affinity he seems to have for rabbit themed memorabilia could be classed as odd to some. Aside from that, Career Councillor Steve Raglan acted no differently to any other employee in the office.

In private, however, the comfort of his own home or even the privacy the closed door of his office provides, William Afton wore his thoughts externally like he wore the sleeves of his shirt. William would chew on the plastic end of a pen while pouring over a client’s file; agonising over how he was supposed to find suitable employment for a 37-year-old with only a high-school education, a criminal record and a 9-year unexplained gap in his employment history.

He would light up a cigarette or two, rolling the paper filter between his lips, biting it carefully with his teeth while sketching concept blueprints for a new animatronic design, trying to seamlessly integrate a dispenser for a knockout gas that wouldn’t be overtly noticeable.

William would bite his nails and chew his lips when you were out late and not responding to his calls or texts, crashing those worried lips to yours as soon as you’d come through the door. “My phone died and I had to stay late, you don’t have to worry I’m safe.” “All manner of dangerous people are out there,” he sighed your name, “can you use a coworker’s phone to call me if it happens next time? I hate to be sitting on the edge of my seat wondering if someone is hurting my girl.”

It was now that William was deep in thought, a half burned out cigarette resting in between his lips. He was tweaking some finer details on an endoskeleton hand, wanting it to have more precise movements, he had said before heading into his garage workshop. That was over five hours ago and the dinner you decided to make him was almost ready.

You watched him from the doorway. The ashtray showing he was on at least his third cigarette; he was stressed. Stepping over boxes and piles of scrap metal, you made your way over to him, resting a palm flat against his back.

“You’re tense,” you said quietly, smoothing your hand over the expanse of his rigid back.

William leaned into your touch but didn’t stop working. You took the chance to gently work out some of the knots in his muscles while he manipulated the metal on the bench, the cigarette still in between his lips. Watching as he moved it between his teeth from the left to the right side of his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and inhaling deeply.

You moved from behind him to lean on the edge of the desk, facing him now. Mentally crossing your fingers in the hopes he wouldn’t snap at you, you take the cigarette from his mouth, immediately drawing his attention. You raise your eyebrows teasingly, bringing the mauled butt to your own lips to take a drag.

“Dinners almost ready,” you exhale the smoke over your shoulder away from him.

A smirk on his lips, “What time is it?” he asks, placing his tools down and finally sitting up straight to stretch out his aching back muscles, twisting his neck side to side. He takes the endoskeleton hand from the desk and places it gently in a box, moving it to a shelf out of the way for now.

“11:41pm, according to the clock in here,” you inhale one more time, feeling the buzz in your head, before passing it back to William who takes the almost finished cigarette graciously. He seems way more interested in it now that it’s been between your lips.

He leans back in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his fatigued eyes then tossing them on the desk. He places the cigarette back between his lips to take a deep, satisfying drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray next to the rest. William exhales, smoke briefly clouding your vision as he reaches for your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tightly in his calloused hands. One holding your waist, the other gripping your thigh.

William nuzzles into the curve of your neck, nose and scratchy facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. He smiles when he can feel your heartbeat against his lips. He places a kiss, then two. Tracing the tip of his tongue from collarbone to ear, pressing a kiss in the space behind your ear and sweeping your hair back out of the way. You live for these moments. The way he dotes on you and worships every inch of you like a piece of fine art.

“I’m sorry I was distracted in here. Have I been neglecting my girl?” William nips the lobe of your ear with his teeth, before kissing a path down the juncture of your neck again.

“Could tell you were stressed,” your breathing heavy, “you need a break.”

“Hmm,” he responds against your skin.

He kisses firmer, harder, more intensely until he’s sucking a bruise into the delicate skin. The way you feel against him, the way you taste on his tongue. More, is all he can think, closer…

He swivels in his desk chair and guides you onto the hard wooden surface of his workbench, sweeping nuts and bolts, welded pieces of metal and wires out of the way. Some clattering to the ground, but he doesn’t care about that right now. William stands, his 6ft 4” frame towering over you as he leans down, gripping your waist with both hands, and connects his lips to yours.

You can’t help but moan obscenely into the kiss. The ferocity and desperation of his lips moulding against yours has you instinctively grinding your hips against his. Wiliam deepens the kiss, his hot tongue sliding over yours, exploring your mouth and bending you into submission. The kiss tastes like the tobacco you both shared, giving you the same pleasant buzz. He bites at your plush lower lip, pulling it with his teeth enough to make it to puff up and redden.

William leans back slightly to get a better look at you; your hair dishevelled, lips swollen and glistening, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“So beautiful,” he stoops back down, lips connecting to your jaw before nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck again enough to bruise, traveling down to the collar of your shirt.

William slides his skilled hands underneath the fabric, caressing the skin there up to where he can feel your bra. He pushes your shirt higher, up over your chest, off your shoulders and over your head, paying no mind to where it falls.

Immediately, his lips connect to the soft skin of your breast poking out of the top of your underwear. Biting and sucking hard, desperately needing to touch you, to mark you everywhere his lips will reach. His warm hands snake underneath your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls the elastic straps down your arms and discards the garment on the ground, bending further at the waist to bring a nipple into his mouth.

Your back arches into his touch, one hand gripping the back of his head by his hair, the other finding purchase on the workbench by your head to keep you steady. William sucks and bites down on your nipple, bringing it to a hard peak. He moves all around the soft flesh, nipping and leaving bruises. With no pens to chew on and the cigarettes discarded, your body was his distraction from his frustrations and worries right now. Not that this would be the first time.

William moves across your chest to give your other breast equal attention. He bites down on your nipple hard enough for you to gasp and tighten your grip on his hair. He glares up at you through hooded eyes, not angry, but amused.

Whilst caressing and kneading the flesh of your breasts, he moves lower down your body, nipping at your torso and abdomen, leaving a trail of little red marks as he goes. He teasingly kisses the skin just above the waistband of your trousers. Deciding to speed things up he hooks his fingers into the hem and pulls them swiftly down your legs, leaving you in only your panties on top of his work bench.

William smooths his thumbs over your hips where your underwear sits. Continuing his goal of kissing every inch of you, he presses his lips to your mound, moving lower and lower, until he’s kissing right over your clothed clit.

A rush of adrenaline courses through your body, arching once again into his touch. William, however, moves away from the area you need him most. He sits back down in his desk chair, giving him the perfect angle to place hot, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, marring the area shades of bright red and deep purple with his lips and tongue.

Once he deems your thighs suitably marked, he pushes your legs further apart for him to gain access to the area you both need him the most. William runs two fingers down your clothed slit, a grin forming when he sees your arousal seep through the fabric. He teases you like this; tracing over your clit with his fingers, pushing into your entrance as far as the fabric of your underwear will allow. Watching you squirm on his desk, begging for a release.

William finds himself becoming impatient, biting on the skin of his lips, he needs you in his mouth again like an addict craving a fix. He finally lowers his face back down to your core, running his lips across your clothed mound before, with no warning, biting down in the area he knows your clit will be. You scream and arch dramatically off the desk, a hand coming to grip his hair. He smirks up at you, eyes swimming with lust and feeling pride surge in his chest. Nobody else could make you feel like this. Nobody but him.

William flattens his tongue over your clit through your panties as you come down from the electric jolt of pleasure. His saliva soaking through the fabric to your skin underneath, mixing with your arousal. The material of your underwear becomes smooth under William’s tongue, clinging to every dip and curve of your cunt as his hands grip your thighs tight.

“Oh fuck, Will…” you whined.

He hums against you, sliding closer to the desk on the chair and hooking his thumbs under the crotch of your panties. The cool air making goosebumps spread all over your body as it hits your wet core. William holds the fabric to one side, granting him access to tease your pussy while you writhe and moan beneath him. Noticing your reaction to the cold air of the garage, he blows against your cunt, grinning when he hears pathetic whimpers slip past your lips, and he watches you clench around nothing.

He moves closer and takes the swollen flesh of your labia between his teeth, biting ever so slightly. Just enough to make you squirm and moan his name. William sucks the flesh into his mouth hard enough to leave yet another bruise to match the many others that are scattered all over your body. The rough sensation of his facial hair causing the heat to stir low in your abdomen.

Once a suitable mark has been formed, William shifts his attention slightly higher. Flicking his long tongue over your clit, finally making contact skin-to-skin. One of your thighs rested on his shoulder with his arm wrapped underneath, holding you securely at the hip, with his other arm laying on top of your hips, holding your panties to the side to give him direct and uninterrupted access.

“Oh my god!” your own hands come down to grasp at his, feeling that heat intensifying inside you.

William doesn’t stop for a second. He sucks expertly on your clit until you’re writhing against his face. He moves lower and plunges his long tongue deep inside your tight hole. Your grip on his hands tightens as you arch into his mouth. Your upper arms pressing your breasts together, feeling the tenderness on the skin from the assault he laid into them moments ago.

William loves the way you taste, and he resolves to lap up every last drop of your arousal like it was his final meal on death row. He licks a stripe the entire way up your cunt from entrance to clit, before wiggling his tongue back inside, rhythmically stroking your walls. His breath is hot between your legs.

A sweat breaks out over your skin, you pant desperately as William builds your climax, stroke by tantalizing stroke of his tongue. He grips your thighs hard in his hands, bruising handprints holding them in place on his shoulders as you try to grind down against his face.

He eats you out like a man starved; routinely thrusting his tongue deep inside, moving it to circle your clit, pressing flat and teasing with the tip, biting and sucking intensely on your clit and labia before moving back to fuck you with his tongue — all while his facial hair scratches you so delightfully, only adding to the stimulation.

The heat is intensifying. You can feel your muscles begin to tense, twitching uncontrollably against William’s face as your climax takes over your body.

“A-ah, fuck! Oh fuck, Will!” you cried out, chest heaving as you pant and gasp for air.

William strokes your thighs encouragingly, breaking away from your core for a moment.

“Let go for me, baby. Come for me, that’s it,” he dives back in, coaxing you higher and higher, his nose bumping your clit. He loves hearing you cry and squirm at the mercy of his control.

Everything tightens and tightens, reaching an apex until there’s nowhere left to climb, and then you finally snap. Screaming William’s name as your muscles spasm, jolting your entire body. Your thighs tremble at either side of his head. William grips you tight, rhythmically pulsing his tongue inside and helping you ride out your orgasm. Shocks radiate throughout your body, your abdomen twitching and tensing with every clench of your walls.

William finally pulls back, laying gentle kisses to your inner thighs and caressing over your hip bones with his thumbs affectionately.

“Good girl,” he soothes, “good girl, you did so well for me. So good.”

You lay there completely bare on his desk, eyes closed, breathing deep and feeling light headed as you come down from the intense high he gave you. A smile creeping onto your face and a warmth spreading in your chest at his words of praise.

William takes your thighs from his shoulders, stands, and rests your legs on his desk chair. He presses a brief kiss to your abdomen, then higher in the valley between your breasts, your neck, jaw, then finally pecking your lips before deepening the kiss and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You just begin to run your hands through his hair when he leans back.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said.

You narrowed your eyebrows, confused as he stepped away.

“Give me one minute, I’m coming straight back.”

You hear him cross the room in wide strides, then the sound of his footsteps as he ascends the stairs in the house. Only moments later, his footsteps drum down the stairs and enter back into the garage.

William drapes something soft over your body; the blanket from your bed. He helps you sit up and pulls the blanket snug around you, then holds you steady as your legs tremble beneath you when you try to stand.

“Woah, easy. Sit here for a sec,” he guides you to his chair, easing you down into the worn seat.

“Thanks,” you sigh, “that was… intense.”

He leans against the desk facing you, the side of your legs pressed against his, “too much?”

“No! No, definitely not. It was good,” you feel warmth creep up your cheeks.

“Good,” William smiles. He swivels the chair and pulls you against him from where you’re sat, your head leaning against his stomach.

“Did it help?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “you’re not biting your lip or lighting up another cigarette.”

He chuckles, “oh, it helped. Definitely way less stressed.”

“Good.”

William cups your face in his palm and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“C’mon, we should go inside. It’s getting cold tonight,” he says, “and didn’t you say something about dinner?”

William gathers your discarded clothes from the floor and offers you an arm to hold, leading you out of the garage and back into the warmth of the house where luckily, there was no smoke billowing out of the kitchen.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #five nights at freddy's #steve raglan #my works

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harrysonlylover · 1 year

Text

You Can Be The Boss*

Summary: Harry can’t stay away from you, and neither can his body.

Trope: CEO!H

WC:3.2k

Warnings: Detailed Breeding kink, slight exhibitionism, cockwarming.

A/n: This was a request. Hope you like it. Xx

CEO H Masterlist

Being a CEO is never easy.

Harry could certainly witness to that. He’s had meetings atop meetings for the past few months with security, insurance, construction and interior designe companies along with several other businessmen. The opening of the new branch in Italy turned out to be harder than Pleasing’s debut.

It is one thing to rise from nothing and gain fame, and another thing to maintain it while focusing on having a family. Harry is unbelievably proud of his achievements, he was featured in Forbes under 30 merely a few months after his first Pleasing launch, sold over 2 million products in the first year and heard stories of couples who met thanks to his company.

What he did is something that every young man dreams of, he knows that and have heard it in interviews about him. But how can he explain to the money greedy people that his empire is nothing when it comes to you?

He could only sleep when you’re near, wake up with your body around him, eat when you’re with him, or if you remind him to. Every time he visits a certain store he is adamant obout buying something, whether it be a chocolate bar or a Cartier necklace, Harry will spoil you.

He never really cared all about social events and didn’t make a habit of attending until you became his. Sometimes he would take you with him, your arm joined with his, as he shows you off to everyone there with a proud smile on his face that says: “This is my girl, look at how pretty she is”.

However, there were times where you’d barely put on your dress and heels before he had you against the wall as he fucked himself deep inside you whispering in your ear.

“No, you’re mine. For my eyes only.”

It’s safe to say that he discovered a whole new level of infatuation with you. But you certainly couldn’t believe it when the pressure of Pleasing made him drift away from home that he suggested selling it.

“Harry, are you mad? You worked so hard!” You shouted in anger at your frustrated fiancée.

“Don’t you get it ? It’s you. It’s always you.” He brought his lips to your temple pressing a long kiss as he inched your body closer to his.

You managed to knock some sense into his mind and lay out a work plan, as you organized his week while he pouted and demanded that you come into his office at least twice. You couldn’t deny him, not when you miss him so much all day considering you are jobless.

Before you met him, you worked in finance and dreaded your job. It took him a while to convince you to quit, not because he wanted to be one of those men who flaunt providing for their wives. In fact, he wrote half of the company’s assets in your name, all he ever wanted was for you to feel safe financially whether it be from a job or by just existing. He doesn’t like the terms ‘mine’ and ‘yours’, simply anything he owns is immediately in your name.

He is aware that some men hold it against their partners and bring out the finances card in arguments but Harry assured you many times that the day he does that, feel free to slap and sue him.

Eventually, you agreed to quit two months ago and since then you’ve busied yourself with new hobbies, workshops and fitness classes. You’re also certain that it made Harry feel happier than you.

Upon what you agreed on earlier this week, you headed to visit Harry in his office, you arrived early with two lunch bags in your hand as the whole building stared at the elegant woman dressed in luxurious clothing from head to toe, with the huge emerald stone on your ring finger.

They were accustomed to your frequent visits but that didn’t stop anyone from staring as you walked in knowing that their boss’s mood would shift 180°.

You can hear Harry’s voice fill the hall as you stepped out of the elevator, it wasn’t something common to witness. Harry was known for being a kind boss, but the faces of the employees around you suggested otherwise.

His secretary Mila jogged behind you trying to catch up as she stood in front of you with her face clouded with apprehension. “Mrs. Styles I don’t think you should go in there.”

You stared back at her for a few moments then glanced at all the other employees whose eyes were wide from Harry’s loud shouting. You patted her shoulder and gently moved her out of your way before heading towards his office.

You turned the doorknob to his office and walked in casually only to see him leaning against his desk with his palms supporting him as he scolded the employee in front of him, the veins along his neck were protruding while fury was radiating off him.

The moment he set his eyes on you, he straightened his posture and sighed as his whole body relaxed. He ordered the man in front of him to leave, which the latter did quite quickly. You placed the lunch bags on a small table and took off your jacket as Harry sat back in his chair and admired you.

“What happened? You never shout at your employees.” You spoke as you walked towards him and sat in his lap.

“He messed up something and now I have to stay for extra hours to fix it. It’s more time away from you.” He held on to your body as he hid his face in your chest.

“Absolutely not Harry. You always do this, you should let them learn from their mistakes, he’s the one who should do it.” Harry had a thing for being an overly nice boss but also a perfectionist. He liked doing things by himself so whenever someone messed up, he’d just tell them to email it to him.

“I guess you’re right.” He gave your lips a peck as you swiped your hand through his hair.

“You looked so hot while shouting though. You’re such a boss.” You turned the peck quickly into a heated kiss as you grinded against his suit.

“Yeah? You always love it when I’m in power don’t you?” Harry smiled into the kiss and tightened his grip on your waist.

The thought of having everyone do what he wants with one order made you unbelievably turned on. He is a man with authority and it shows all the time. But most importantly you loved it when he manhandled you in bed, lifting you up with one arm like you weighed nothing.

“Let me help the boss destress.” Harry moaned into your mouth at your words as you rubbed at his visible bulge with your hand.

“Such a good girl, pleasing me like it’s your job.” He unbuttoned his pants and slightly pulled them down as you stared back at his thick bulge. You’re not sure how he was able to get hard this fast but it looked painful.

Despite having sex this morning, he acted as if it’s been weeks and that he’s starved. His hand roamed your body while his tongue clashed with yours. He grinned when his fingers swiped through your folds under your skirt and realized that you had no panties on as instructed and were very wet.

“My baby is walking around my building with no panties on, so eager to fuck her fiancée. What would the employees say?” He tsked as if he’s disappointed and teased you by sucking on your neck with his hand gently massaging your labia.

“I want to warm you up.” You caught him off guard as he expected you to fuck him but he’d do anything you want.

“Cmon then, help me relax.” He laid back and crossed his arms behind his head, as he raked his eyes on your body and eager eyes that are set on his twitching cock.

He watched your next movements intently knowing that the sight in front of him is any man’s wet dream. You happily stroked his cock, swiping your thumb against the tip and collecting his precum on your finger before pushing it inside your pussy and smiling because ‘his cum shouldn’t go to waste.’

Harry bit his bottom lip feeling his cock about to burst while you looked down and spat at it before stroking it again and using his arousal to finger yourself.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you put my cock where it belongs?” He caressed your jaw with his knuckles as you nodded eagerly and positioned his cock at your entrance before sinking down on him with one swift motion.

Harry rolled his eyes backwards the moment your pussy wrapped around his cock. So warm, tight and velvety. You sucked him inside so perfectly and made his body heat up quickly.

“Best fucking pussy. Can’t wait to continue breeding it.” You were reminded with the fact that you’re only cockwarming him now but now that he mentioned getting his cum, you regretted not fucking him.

Sinking down on him quickly made you feel like you were being split into two halves, he was thick and even more swollen when hard as if he knows that he has to give you his load. The stretch only made you wetter as you squirmed and tried to adjust on his lap while he guided your head to his neck.

Your continuous clenching around him almost made Harry cum to which he wasn’t pleased of. The tightness of your cunt was unbearable , and his thighs were drenched with your wetness because you can’t seem to control yourself.

“Behave brat.” He slapped your ass harshly with his ring clad hand making you spasm around him even harder.

Holding you to his body, he gently moved his chair closer to his desk and grabbed a granola bar from the drawer unwrapping it and feeding you while your head stayed laid against his chest. After two bites, you guided his own hand to his mouth to which he smiled for and happily accepted a bite.

“My darling always taking care of me. But you’re the one who should eat more for our baby. Need to feed you the best food ever.” His hand sneakily made its way to your tummy and rubbed on it.

You were pretty sure you got knocked out by now. The signs were all there but both of you ignored them as the whole breeding fantasy thing was pleasing and Harry continued to cum deep inside of you every time.

No matter what, nothing compared to your fiancée filling you up, or taking you out while his cum runs down your thighs. He couldn’t help marking you, it was a necessity.

After a few more bites, you almost fell asleep and forgot that you’re sitting on his cock. All you felt was the heat between your legs and a warm snug feeling that felt good. Harry stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head every now and then.

He shifted his position slightly making his cock push deeper inside of you , you could’ve sworn that some precum leaked into your pussy but it doesn’t matter because there is no way you’d be able to ignore the ache between your legs anymore.

You lifted your head off his chest and found him reading an email on his phone while he gently rubbed at your back. You began leaving wet kisses along his skin where his chemise was unbuttoned.

“Harry..” You almost moaned his name but it was obvious that you need him and changed your mind.

He immediately set his phone down and adjusted his position (on purpose) as he gave you all his attention. He looked into your eyes and knew that you needed a good fuck, you always do. He could not possibly deny that for the both of you not when his cock is about to burst.

“What does my love wa—“ Harry’s question was cut off by an employee coming inside.

“Mr. Styles I—“ He stopped in his tracks and awkwardly looked around as he stuttered. The sight in front of him wasn’t completely graphic, you still had your skirt on after all, but it was obvious to anyone that you and Harry weren’t all love dovey.

“Can’t you see that I’m busy?” Harry gritted his teeth while his breathing picked up. Despite loving exhibitionism, he isn’t always in the right mindset to show you off. He wants you all for himself and although his employee probably can’t see anything, Harry was reminded of how vulnerable you feel during intimate moments and saw red.

“Sorry sir I ju—“

“Get out!” Harry pointed to the door with warning eyes as the man immediately scrambled away from his office dropping a paper behind him in the process but not daring to come back for it.

Harry checked on you by raising your chin to his level and smiled when he saw your face looking alright and as pretty as ever. “You’re mine only okay?”

You would never replace him in a million years but seeing his possessive side come out was always so hot to witness. Anything he did made you drop on your knees and that didn’t help your current situation.

You slowly began rolling your hips, as your swollen cunt is now unbearably achy and puffy. Harry’s cock seems to only harden inside of you and if he doesn’t fuck your brains out you could cry.

“Dirty girl. Can barely last on my cock for ten minutes and you’re jumping on me again. What a needy slut.” His degrading words made you even hornier as you clutched on to his shirt with a tight grip letting out whines.

“Please fuck me. I want you deep inside.” You barely let out a few coherent words before feeling the pleasure and need for Harry take over you.

He loved watching you beg for him when you could not handle it anymore. The way you whither and feel like crying only fuels his ego further. The fact that you would only be relieved if his cock fucks you repeatedly makes him twitch inside your pussy.

“Say that you want me to knock you up. You filthy girl, you want me to be your baby daddy hmm?” He began rolling his hips slowly to edge you further.

“Wanna be pregnant with your child.” You whimpered against his lips as tears began to well in your eyes from the amount of wetness.

That was all you had to say before Harry lifted you up with one arm and threw everything off the desk as they landed on the ground with a thud. He laid you gently and got rid of your blouse so he could have access to your hardened nipples.

His cock was still tucked inside your cunt so when he inched his face closer to yours, he pushed deeper making you moan loudly as he hit your g-spot unexpectedly. He laced his fingers with yours leaving love bites all over your chest, while admiring your tits proudly.

“The greediest pussy ever. So insatiable even when I fuck you day and night. You just love your fiancée’s cock so much.” He rolled his hips into yours as he closed the gap between your two bodies.

“Nghh..” It wasn’t in your ability to form coherent words. The veins on Harry’s cock massaged your walls perfectly, scratching an itch you never knew you had. The sound of skin slapping filled the room as he fucked you raw without holding back.

His muscles flexed with every thrust, as he looked down to your relaxed figure watching his cock go in and out from your drenched pussy that is dripping right on his desk. Your cunt was so sensitive and swollen, and your clitoris was bulging asking for attention which Harry generously gave by pinching it.

“Gonna have to show off your swollen belly to everyone. Let them know I gave you my seed day and night to get you pregnant.” He whispered lowly in your ear as you rolled your eyes backwards imagining how he would proudly rub at your bump in public.

You locked your legs around him, as your heels dug in at his back prompting him to go deeper. Your bodies were sweaty and filled with want for one another. The feeling of your pussy so snug around his cock, sucking him inside made him see stars.

“I’m sure you’re knocked out by now, but your greedy pussy just keeps sucking my cum inside.” God knows how much precum has leaked inside of you when you cockwarmed him and Harry would like to think that your pussy reacts to the presence of his cum in your cunt.

“I feel so sensitive and I want you all the time.” You wrapped your arms around his neck thinking about how much he’s filled you up by now.

“And you have me baby, my mind, body and soul are yours.” He slowed down but deepened his cock, allowing himself to rest for a few moments before plunging harder as he rubbed at your swollen clitoris.

Harry rested his forehead against yours, catching your lips in a wet sloppy kiss as heat radiated off your bodies. The sex was dirty and passionate, exactly what fits for you and him.

“Fuck, look at these gorgeous tits. They’re gonna be swollen and full of milk. You won’t need any bras, gonna make you walk naked.” He cupped each of your breasts, greedily sucking at your nipples as he squeezed them.

“I’m cumming..” His compliments on your tits tipped you over the edge as your own orgasm washed over you. All you could see was white spots and stars as your moaning echoed through the room. Your cunt was pulsating rapidly around Harry’s cock whose orgasm got triggered by yours.

Harry rutted his hips against yours, as if he wishes to converge your bodies and make you one person as he spilled his seed deep inside of your cunt.

“Draining me from my seed all day, aren’t you?” Take all of it my love and give me a baby.” He stilled his hips as he released a big load with his lips hovering over yours and chests flush against each other.

The euphoric feeling you get everytime he came inside of you was irreplaceable. Your skin was sweaty and naked as he hugged you to his chest and mumbled words of praise and love in your ear.

“My best girl. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m gonna take care of you till we’re old and gray.”

“I love every bit of you that it physically pains me.”

You held on to Harry for a while as he kept his body wrapped around yours in a tight grip. There was no denying of the happiness Harry offered you or all the new feelings you got to explore thanks to him, so you closed your eyes and let out a sigh of content.

In this world, it’s just you, Harry and the baby growing in your belly.

Divider from @firefly-graphics

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