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fangswbenefits · 11 months

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Obsession

Summary: Miguel tries to convince himself that his obsession with you was justified, but fails miserably as you spend the night over.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced reader. Breeding kink. Sexual tension and frustration. Reader has nipple piercings.

Previous parts: 1 & 2 (you may enjoy this one separately, but might miss out on some context)

Miguel tried to convince himself that adding a mic to your digital suit was purely for safety purposes.

He really did try.

But he couldn’t keep from listening in when you first wore it on your way to the spider cafeteria.

He had just briefed a squad and was monitoring Nueva York through a multitude of hovering screens, as he stood on his platform.

Tapping quickly on the flickering surface, he was able to zoom in on you through the ceiling cameras.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

The suit fit you like a glove and left little to the imagination. He was proud of his work. You deserved wearing something of his for everyone to see.

He saw you approaching a nearby table, taking a seat. In front of you were Jessica Drew and Peter B. Parker with Mayday who greeted you with warm smiles.

The sound of your voice echoed through the walls around him, as you extended your arms.

“Mayday! Baby! It’s so good to see you!”

The little girl broke into a giggle and began wriggling forward on Peter’s lap to reach you.

You promptly took her in your arms. “Did you miss me? Did you?” your voice was slight high-pitched and you wiggled your fingers, tickling her. “Oh, I have a present for her.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you,” Peter beamed.

“I don’t have it here, but I think she’ll love it,” you said, patting Mayday’s back lightly, earning a genuine hug from her.

Miguel felt his heart clench violently.

You were a natural with kids.

You were just too good to be true and he felt his hands clench tightly.

Would he ever be able to have you? To make you yearn for him? To breed you? To have children with you?

“Wait, is that a… digital suit?” Jessica’s voice cracked through the mic.

You had your back turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he felt the warmth in your voice as you spoke, “It sure is!”

He groaned lowly.

There you were… his sweet girl.

“Who gave it to you?”

“Miguel,” you said with that tenderness he had grown to adore.

He could easily get addicted to you saying his name, and he could only hope that, one day, he might hear it a much more compelling setting.

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

You nodded.

From the screen he could see her exchanging looks with Peter.

“It looks really cool!” Peter smiled enthusiastically, inspecting your sleeves. “Wish he’d offer me one, too.”

Jessica chuckled. “Well, I’ve been here with him for months and he’s never given me one.”

Jessica…

It was to be expected. She was no fool. He had scouted her precisely because she was anything but that.

You had been recruited only three weeks ago, but the hold you had on him was tight. He had never felt this way before with someone else.

You straightened in your seat, as Mayday nibbled on your thumb. “Wait… do you think I should give it back?”

Miguel felt his heart jumpstart and panic build inside him.

“No — no! Jessica,” Perer shot her a glare who merely shrugged, before offering you a kind smile. “It looks great on you. Did you pick the colours?”

“Yes! I’m really happy with the final result,” you said, helping Mayday sit at the edge of the table, as you secured her with both hands. “It was his way of showing gratitute.”

Jessica snapped her fingers after taking a sip of her drink. “You’re helping him out with the portals, right?”

“We’re working on portal stabilisation and reduced motion sickness,” you said and he could almost taste the pride and passion in your voice. “We’re making some progress.”

Miguel had gotten used to the random erections you’d awake from him throughout the day. But this one felt particularly painful.

You were so smart and so devoted. He couldn’t even take credit for the progress, because it was mostly just you.

His sweet and clever girl.

He glanced down at the outline of his strained cock, clicking his tongue.

By the time his eyes settled on the monitor, Jessica had walked away momentarily and he saw Peter lean in.

“Hey… are you and Miguel… a thing?”

Miguel froze.

Mayday proceeded to wrap tiny fingers around some of his locks, tugging lightly.

He wish he could have seen your reaction.

“Oh! No! No… we’re just friends,” you quickly said, waving your hands rapidly. “He’s like a mentor to me, really.”

Anger flared inside him. A friend? A mentor? He knew deep down this made absolute sense, but it still made him seething with rage.

Peter didn’t seem all that convinced, but nodded. “Just wondering. He’s not usually this… kind?”

Miguel felt his fangs threaten to emerge as he gritted his teeth.

There had been nothing kind about him building you a suit. He hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart.

He wanted to claim you and this had been the easiest and safest way for now.

“Well, I know he’s a grumpy,” you chuckled with a shrug, as you patted Mayday on the back. “Maybe he’s changing?”

You wouldn’t want him to change. Not really. The level of devotion he had for you was unmatched and nothing you could ever have from someone else.

“Maybe you’re a good influence on him?” Peter concluded, tapping his chin. “As a friend, of course.”

“Peter….” he growled lowly.

“As a friend,” you nodded. “Besides, there’s…” but your voice trailed off.

His erection nearly immediately deflated as dread took over.

There’s what?

He turned up the mic’s volume, but winced instead, as you banged on the table.

You cleared your throat. “Well, gotta go! I have work to do.”

Peter took Mayday back into his lap and chuckled. “Don’t forget her present!”

“I won’t! Wish me luck, though,” you said, crossing your fingers as you started to walk away. “I really need these chips to stop blowing and melting on me!”

“Good luck! Say bye bye, Mayday,” Peter waved his hand, which the little girl promptly mimicked with a giggle.

“Bye, baby!” you beamed.

Miguel had had enough.

He switched off your mic with a tap on his watch.

He really had tried to convince himself that his obsession for you was justified. That is was rooted in more than lust and desire, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

After you moved to Nueva York, he had you working closely to him on portal stabilisation.

But what had started out as something innocent, soon shifted into something else entirely.

Your company brought him peace and quiet, and ticket his brain just the right way to keep him motivated.

Until it didn’t.

Until you became his torment.

He had let you in his life in the hopes that you let him in yours.

The first time you gave him a boner was when he walked in on you in the lab, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pencil pressed firmly in between your lips, as you moved from screen to screen to check on the update progress.

The worst part? You didn’t even notice how utterly delicious you looked and how he could easily bend you over and take you right there.

No.

You just offered him a sweet smile.

One he hadn’t recovered from ever since.

“Miguel?”

He jolted as the voice snapped him from his torturous thoughts. “What?”

Lyla hovered nearby, eyeing him closely. “Fangs out,” she wiggled her index finger disapprovingly. “Pavitr and Hobie are waiting for you.”

His fangs retracted slowly as he tried to gain his composure back. “Why?”

“Mission?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Right.

“Now?”

“You’re already late.”

He growled, tapping on a few screens hurriedly.

“Oh, and Miguel?”

“What?”

The hologram popped near the screen to his left. “You might want to be more subtle when using her in-suit mic.”

He gave her narrow side-glace. “What do you mean?”

“Just saying,” she said, adjusting her heart-shapped glasses. “You’re not the only tech savvy spider here.”

The door to his apartment swung open at once, and he stepped inside ready to decompress from the tiresome mission.

He had made plans with some of your audio recordings and his hand, hoping that would be enough to easy the pent-up tension that had been looming over year throughout the way.

It was a less than ideal situation, but would have to do for now.

That was until he noticed his living room was lit.

Pacing rapidly he was met with you.

In the middle of a pile of papers and electronic components scattered around the floor, he saw you sitting cross-legged with a pencil danging from your lips, his digital suit clinging tightly to your body.

“What are you doing here?”

Your bead snapped in his direction and the pencil tumbled to the floor. “Miguel! Lyla let me in.”

He was rooted in place.

Had it been someone else, he would have flung them through the window with no warning.

But you weren’t just someone.

And Lyla wouldn’t have let someone else enter his apartment, either.

“It’s quite late,” he said, pacing carefully toward you as not to step on anything. “You could have called me.”

You waved a hand dismissively and held a circular metallic object in the other. “Catch!”

Before he could say anything back, you had tossed it in his direction, which he quickly grabbed in between his fingers.

“Found what was wrong with it,” you smiled proudly. “It was stupid of me, really. There wasn’t any thermal paste in it. That’s why it kept blowing up.”

Miguel stared at the chip in his hand and blinked a few times.

“I assumed you were using it from the start,” he said, inspecting the cross section.

You rose to your feet in an instant and joined his site, excitement spilling from you. “These ion batteries should not require thermal paste — not for this amount of energy, at least. But yeah… my bad,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

Miguel locked eyes with yours and felt a familiar tingle in his body.

Fuck.

You were just so ridiculously attractive, and he wish he could hear you ramble about tech and science for hours.

“This is really, really good news,” he said genuinely, handing the chip back to you.

He squeezed your arm lightly as encouragement, knowing fully well he should be rewarding you in other ways.

His sweet girl…

You darted back to the floor, gathering some papers. “Sorry for the mess. I just had to figure this out and couldn’t sleep.”

A scientist at heart, you were.

Blood began to rush to his groin in no time. It couldn’t be helped. His body had been so on edge to finally fuck you, that it was in this permanent state of arousal around you.

“It’s fine. I still have those moments,” he said softly, crouching to help you out. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, and I have to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I either go to the lab, or…” I jerk off to the thought of being buried deep inside you, he wanted to say.

You eyed him expectantly, biting your lip lightly, further hardening his cock.

“Well, it’s a bit late,” Miguel eventually said, standing tall. “Maybe you should get back to your apartment?”

He hated himself for even suggesting such option, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You being here would be fuel enough for the rest of the night as he fucked his hand.

“Oh, you just got back from a mission,” you fought back a yawn, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “I’ll just leave.”

Miguel nodded, but was crumbling inside.

Your face lit up again. “But this was great, right?”

Please stay.

“You did great,” he said with a short smile. “Go get some rest.”

Please…

You made your way down the hall and waved at him. “See you in the morning, Miguel.”

He should have let you go.

But something took over him, before he could fight it back.

“Actually, you could stay. It’s nearly four in the morning,” he tried to sound as casual as possible, but the excitement was hard to contain. “And we have to head back to the lab early.”

You turned around and he stopped breathing.

Too much?

Then he the backpack slide down your arm, hittingbthe floor with a thud. “Oh, thank you! I really didn’t feel like swinging back to my apartment,” you voice held pure gratitude and he felt his ego soar. “Only… I don’t have any clothes.”

He shook his head as realisation hit him. “Right. Wait here.”

“Okay~”

Bolting into his room, he went through his closet, fetching a shirt and a robe.

But before heading out, he decided to change into some sweatpants and a shirt himself.

His erection welcomed the looser material, and he’d be able to better conceal it from you.

Taking a final look at his cock, Miguel decided to give it a few pumps as if trying to calm it down.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He couldn’t believe his sweet girl would be so close to him in his clothes and apartment.

And bed.

As he exited the room and handed the clothes to you, he cleared his throat. “You can take my bed.”

You looked up at him. “Oh… no, Miguel. You just came back from a mission.”

“I’m not that tired. Just take it.”

Please.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Anything that was his was yours. He would give it all to you.

“Be right back,” you said, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

He immediately sighed in relief, adjusting his cock, feeling the first beads of precum spill from the tip.

How was he to survive this?

Not long after, you emerged again.

He glanced over at the length of you, taking in the sight of his shirt and robe on you. Your legs were still covered with the digital suit, but you looked absolutely ready to be devoured.

But he couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

His cock twitched in his pants, yearning to be inside you.

Then something else caught his attention when his moved up your body.

It couldn’t be…

Two symmetrical protuberances poked through the fabric of your shirt — his shirt.

“Are those…” his voice faltered momentarily, not trusting his own eyes.

You followd his line of sight and giggled. “Oh! Yeah. Got them pierced way back. Wanted to defy my dad and got them out of spite,” you went on, adjusting the fabric of the shirt under the robe. “But eventually kept them. They look cute.”

Cute?

Miguel was at a loss for words.

Your voice mixed with your carefree posture sent jolts directly into his cock.

“I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I didn’t notice them before,” he said, feeling his mouth run dry.

“I was wearing a bra,” you replied with a shrug and a tender smile.

This was almost comically painful.

You were the closest thing he had ever known to innocence as of late. Yet here you stood, wearing just his shirt, no bra, and with your pierced nipples poking through his shirt.

But none of that seemed to matter to you.

You were completely oblivious of how painfully hard he was for you.

“Did it hurt?”

“Terribly,” you said, still glacing down at your breasts and hardened nipples. “But I think it’s worth it.”

The adorable way in which you said it was almost driving him insane.

Just how innocent could one person be…

Before he could even process his thoughts, he spoke, “Can I…”

Your eyes met his and Miguel feared he had now fucked it up for good.

Brilliant, Miguel…

“Oh, you mean… you want to see them?”

Should he back down and just deny his intentions?

“You’ve never seen nipple piercings before?”

He shook his head.

Just as he was about to tell you to forget it, you lifted his shirt, revealing your breasts to him.

He nearly exploded right there and then.

“Oh, please!” she giggled. “We’re people of science, and you haven’t seen this before. Science is all about curiosity and discovery.”

Miguel, however, wasn’t listening to any of that and felt as though he was hypnotised. He could tear his eyes away from your perky nipples and the metal rods that went through them, a tiny spider danging from each of them.

He wasn’t sure when or how he had got so close to you, but he lifted his hand to touch one.

His cock twitched violently and he felt his mind hazy with lust.

“They’re cool, right?” you beamed, allowing him to swipe the pad of his thumb across the tiny spider.

“Yeah.”

Really ‘cool’.

More precum dripped from his tip and had to fight back his fangs from slipping out.

He wanted to bend over and dart his tongue out to play with them. He wanted to tug on them and wanted you to arch your back with a soft moan.

You pulled down the shirt again and he flinched his hand back instantly, swallowing hard.

“So… if — when you have a baby and want to breastfeed… will there be an issue?”

Of course his need to breed you had to surface at the worst possible time.

But he had to know. He needed to know if that would be a nuisance. He couldn’t take any risks and he wanted you completely ready to carry his children.

You shrugged, adjusting the robe around you. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I got them, but I suppose I just have to take them out.”

He nodded, taking a few steps back.

You stretched out with a yawn. “Mind if I go to sleep now?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

You were about to whirl on your feet, but decided against it. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

That caught him off guard and his eyes widened. “Gracias.”

Then you gave him the sweetest smile. “Gracias, Miguel.

He could cum just from this alone.

How he would teach you the filthiest things in Spanish… how he would whisper them in your ear, knowing fully well you couldn’t understand a word…

You then slipped into his room and closed the door.

He ran both hands through his hair, wanting to let out a scream.

The things he wanted to do to you…

The things you deserved done to you…

He brought one hand down to tug at his waistband, revealing his soaked cock.

Then he bit the back of his other hand.

Hard.

He didn’t even care if he drew blood.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Engulfed with overwhelming frustration, he pressed his forehead against the tall window that overlooked Nueva York.

He had to calm down, or else he’d have to synthesise a serum to lower his levels of testosterone…

He had to find a way to stop.

As minutes ticked by, he decided to check your bio readings on his watch. Your heart rate had lowered significantly, indicating him you were now asleep.

The predator in him took control again and he paced towards his bedroom, opening the door just enough to check on you.

Fast asleep.

He walked in with careful steps, finally taking in the sight of you on his bed.

The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for the faintest moonlight to be cast on you.

He felt his heart was about to implode as he drew near, slowly sitting by the edge of the mattress.

You lay on your back, breathing evenly and covered up to your waist with a blanket.

Miguel took a deep and shaky breath.

You smelled of him and his bedsheets smelled of you.

Such a powerful and dangerous combination, that he almost considered gripping his cock.

Bur decided against it.

Instead, he say there, staring at you, absorbing every single detail of your body.

His hand twitched as an itch took over it.

An itch he had to scratch.

He reached out to graze the back of one finger along your forearm, feeling your warmth coating his skin.

His sweet girl…

His imagination ran wild and he had hoped he could have fucked you to sleep, not sliding out of you, making sure you’d take his seed.

Pain swallowed him whole as despair settled.

What if he never managed to make you his?

What if you decided you wanted nothing more than a friendship?

How could he cope?

Suddenly, you flinched and rolled to your side and heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, Tom…”

Miguel was left petrified and his blood ran cold.

Who the fuck was Tom?

Part 4

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

8K notes · View notes

its44intheehouse · 3 months

Text

CHARLES LECLERC-NSFW alphabet

this is very. spicy. enjoy🍒

A - Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

Charles is sweet. After destroying your guts or making love passionately to you, he’ll always make sure you get the proper aftercare. He’ll offer to clean you up, run you a relaxing bath, get you water, whatever you need. He is a very attentive boyfriend.

B - Bodypart (their favorite body part of his and his partner’s)

He is very proud of his physique. Especially his abs and hands. He spends a lot of his time training and making sure he stays fit, not only for the sake of his career but also for him. One time he asked you to ride his abs, and it turned him on so bad that he almost came in his pants just watching you get off like that. And he loves it when you stare at his hands. You do it unconsciously sometimes and he likes to pretend he doesn’t notice it until later on when he’s making you come with them until you can’t take it anymore.

On you, he loves LOVES your boobs and your legs. He can’t get enough of the sight of your boobs when you’re riding him and they just bounce in his face. He has to have his mouth or at least his hands on them everyday. It’s a must. Whether he’s coming up behind you for a hug or he’s spooning you while sleeping, his hand is always underneath your shirt, touching them. And it’s not always sexual, he just loves them so much it becomes a reflex. It’s comforting for him.

And your legs. He loses his mind everytime he sees you wear one of your short skirts or dresses and he can see your long, soft legs. He loves it when you put them in his lap while you’re reading your book, when they’re propped on his shoulders while he’s fucking you raw or eating your pussy. It adds an extra spice when he just fucked you dumb in his car before an event and you just have to walk around the whole night talking to people while his cum is slowly dripping down your legs.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

He’s versatile. But always respects your wishes, so he’ll come wherever you want him to. But if he had to admit, he is obsessed with the idea of coming inside of you. He is very sensitive to touch. So if fucking you with a condom made him feral, imagine letting him feel you without one. Once you got on birth control and gave him the green light, he went nuts about it, fucking you anytime and everywhere he could and making sure to pump his cum deep enough so you would feel it slip out of you even hours after.

Also, he thinks its very hot when you blow him and swallow right after, smiling at him as you stick your tongue out to show him how good you are for him. And even though most men find it disgusting to kiss their girl after they suck their dick, Charles is definitely an exception. He’ll grab your chin and press his lips to yours everytime, then he’ll smirk and tell you “You did so well, baby. Good girl, made me feel sooo good.”

D - Dirty secret

He wants to make a sextape. He is absolutely, head over heels in love with you, and although he’s always enjoying the moment when you two fuck, he’d love to have a video of you doing it so everytime he’s away from you for racing he has a visual reminder of how wet you get for him, how good you’re taking him, how destroyed and unreal you look when your eyes are tearing up and your mouth is swollen from his kisses and how pornographic your moans and whimpers sound everytime he’s thrusting inside of you.

E - Experience (how experienced he is in bed)

He is a relationship type of man. He’s had some girlfriends in the past, not a crazy amount of them though, but he knows what he’s doing. He always goes all in when it comes to sex, because he loves to be able to feel good and make his partners feel good also. He’s kind of cocky and wants to do a good job so that he can see the results of it afterwards. How your legs are still shaking, how you’re having trouble walking or sitting just because of how good he got you.

F - Favorite position

As I said, he’s versatile. He’ll have you in every position he can think of, as long as he knows it’s gonna benefit the both of you, especially you. Charles loves challenges, so you two tried a bit of everything almost. But his favorite positions have to be the good ol’ missionary, because he gets to see you in all your beauty underneath him, cowgirl, because it does something to him when you’re the one in charge, and doggy, so he can slap and grab your ass anytime he feels like it. He also likes to wrap your hair in his fist and pull on it so he can have your back pressed against his chest while one of his hands is busy rubbing your clit.

G - Goofy (how serious is he in the moment?)

It depends. Usually Charles appreciates a light energy, and enjoys being his playful goofy self. He’ll crack a joke in bed sometimes, but most of the time he takes things seriously because he wants to show you a good time.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? how do they prefer their partners?)

He doesn’t like to be messy, personally. Also, due to his racing and excessive sweat that always results from it, he prefers to keep things clean and shaved. He’s always trimmed nicely and fresh.

On you, he doesn’t really care, as long as things don’t get too much out of control and you take good care of your hygiene.

I - Intimacy (how is he during sex)

He’s always making sure to put you first. He isn’t afraid to slow things down or stop if he sees you’re not particularly enjoying something, and will always ask you if you’re okay or if you need something. He’s also very romantic. During foreplay, during sex, all the time really. Will have you swooning after his sweet words and affectionate touches and he always looks at you as if you are the most beautiful woman to set a foot on this earth. Because he believes you are.

J - Jack off (does he masturbate?)

He rarely has the time to do that and he doesn’t have to think about it too much because most of the time you’re with him, so it isn’t hard for him to find a way to get off. But when you’re away and he’s lonely in one of the hotel rooms on race weekends, he’s always facetiming you. And no matter what you do, that man will get an erection. You can always tell he’s needy when his breathing gets uneven and his voice is slightly shaky, so you offer to talk him through it. Dirty talk was something that never came to you naturally even though you craved it secretly, but since dating Charles, you’ve both experimented with it and now it became a habit for you when you’re on the phone masturbating with him or helping him come.

K - Kink (what kink/s does he have?)

He gets feral when you’re bossing him around. Especially in bed, he loves to see you comfortable enough to seek control and have him do whatever you want. If you’re on top, he’s a dead man. He thinks it’s so sexy.

Also, Charles is a family man. He wants to have a family and kids at some point, because he absolutely ADORES them. We been knowing. He can’t help the smile on his face or the glint in his eyes when he sees you with kids. He knows you’re going to be the mother of his children and that thought never fails to make his heart flutter. But it also makes his dick throb violently. He can’t stop imagining it. Your tits swollen and full of sweet milk and your stomach big, carrying his babies with so much love. God, he can’t wait for the moment you’ll both be ready so you can start trying. But that doesn’t stop him from fucking you multiple times and pushing his cum back inside of your abused cunt. Even though he knows you’re on birth control, he’ll still fuck you stupid and imagine he’s getting you pregnant right then and there, while groaning and whispering to you “You’re so full of me, ma belle. Fuck. One day I’m gonna get you pregnant. You’re gonna let me put a baby in you and I’ll make you my beautiful little wife, yeah?”

Anyway 😏

L - Location (favorite places to have sex)

It doesn’t really matter to Charles. If he’s horny, he’s gonna want to take you anywhere. Not a corner of his or your home was left untouched, you fucked everywhere. The bed, the couch, on the table, on the kitchen counter, the floor, in the shower, the wall… You’ve even done it in his drivers room a few times. He also has a thing for car sex. Charles loves his cars and he loves you, so fucking you there gets him pretty enthusiastic.

M - Motivation (what gets him going)

So easy to make him want you. Like I said, he is very much in love with you so he’s always down. But he has a thing for teasing. He’s a big flirt and a very successful one, he never fails to make you blush or make you wet. But when you turn the tables and flirt with him back, teasing him and batting your eyelashes at him, he thinks he’s going to pass out. Your whole energy makes you irresistible to him.

N - No (turn offs, things he wouldn’t do)

He believes sex is for pleasure and exploration. So with that being said, he would never hurt you. He’s down to try almost anything sexually, but he can’t stand the thought of being too rough to the point of inflicting real pain on you.

O - Oral (how good they are at it, preferences on receiving/receiving)

Charles is a both a big giver and receiver. He’s got quite the ego so making you feel good also feeds his confidence. This man’s purpose is to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your legs shaking. He gets off on the sweet taste of your pussy, on the sounds you’re making, your scent, the way you grip his hair and roll your hips on his face. God, he could stay between your legs for hours. He’d never get tired of it. He even asked you to sit on his face a few times, even though you were a bit unsure at first and needed a bit of convincing. But once you got to see how hot it was and how amazing it felt, you were the one starting to ask for it.

Going back to the ego thing, sucking his cock does inexplicable things to him. He thinks it’s so cute when you try and take more and more of him everytime just because you want him to feel good. Seeing you struggle to fit all of him in your mouth gives him a big confidence boost. He likes to throw some praises here and there to encourage you when you look up at him with teary eyes.

P - Pace.

Usually depends on the mood. He’s always sweet, romantic and considerate. You’re his princess, the love of his life, and he’ll make love to you just the way you deserve it. But he can switch up real fast and become more rough and fast if you ask for it or if something is really bothering him and making him mad. One time after a DNF and a nasty fight with his team, he just made his way to you, grabbed you without a word and rushed you to his drivers room to take out all his frustrations. He was so mad he couldn’t even care about someone hearing you. You rarely see Charles mad, but you couldn’t lie and say something about him fuming wasn’t making your knees go weak.

Q - Quickie

You two had mastered the art of quickies. It isn’t unusual for you to have one before or after a race, between interviews, before events, even in the private jet’s bathroom. Although he loves to take his time with you. But everything will do, as long as he has you.

R - Risk (how risky he is)

If it wasn’t for his career, he’d be more unhinged. For now, he has only tried making you cum with his fingers under the table while you were out with some of the drivers. He loves his job and he knows he can’t afford to act too reckless if he wants to keep it.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can he go for?)

He’s more of a one looooong round typa guy. It can last up to two hours or more, and he’s going to drain all the energy out of you.

T - Toys (how does he feel about toys? does he own some?)

Charles is a grown man and knows that toys are his teammates, not his enemies. He doesn’t own any and neither do you, but he has thought a lot about buying some for you, just to switch things up a bit or for you to use them when he’s away. He’ll definitely facetime you and ask you to use them on camera so he can see.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s going to tease THE SHIT OUT OF U. He’s always playful and loves to make you frustrated. He always enjoys watching you slowly crack from his teasing.

V - Volume (how loud he is in bed)

He prefers to hear you more, and sometimes he is just too focused on what he’s doing so he doesn’t make a lot of noises. A few moans, groans and whimpers here and there. But oh boy, when he’s close? He turns it up a notch.

W - Wild card

He kind of loves it when you deny him pleasure. One day when he was streaming you decided to make things a bit spicy and crawl under the desk to give him head. To say he was surprised was an understatement, since he was used to you being more on the shy side. He wanted to end the stream right then but you made it very clear that if he did that, you’d stop. And even though it was the hardest thing he had to do, especially with the risk of people catching up on what was actually going on, he has to admit it was hot as fuck. He came so much then.

X - X-Ray (what’s under)

Charles is above average, thick and veiny. It’s a delicious stretch and hits the spot every.single.time.

Y - Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Very high. This man is almost always bricked up. He could go for it anytime.

Z - Zzz (how fast they fall asleep after)

After making sure you’re both comfortable and you’re in his arms, he’s dead asleep.

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wolfmoonmusic · 1 year

Text

Misunderstandings

Summary: Sirius is yours and you are his. But do you both know that?

Request: Sirius and reader have a kind of an off and on flirtation/situationship thing going and he sees her going on a "date" with Frank Longbottom (personally I had headcanon that Frank was the fifth boy in the dorm along with the Marauders) in reality she's went on a pretend date to help Frank get ready for the real date he's taking her best friend Alice on and so Sirius gets jealous and wants to make things official before he loses her to someone else a little bit of angst with happy ending you know

Requested by: @jessiegerl

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: Readers parents hate her and well we all know how Sirius's Parents are.

w/c: 2.8k+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3

Sirius Black was not used to affection.

It was foreign to him. He never received praise, compliments, or anything positive. Ever.

So when the acquaintances he’d made on the hogwart’s express clapped him on the back after getting into Gryffindor, he didn’t know how to react other than to flinch.

And when you, introduced as James’s honorary sister, sat down that night, you’d complimented his hair.

You’d said “I like your long hair. It suits you.”

His parents hated that hairstyle.

He’d kept it purely as an act of rebellion. However, now, now he seemed to like it just a bit more. He hadn’t said thank you. Because he hadn’t known he was supposed to. So he’d just nodded, and you’d grinned.

That grin changed everything. You changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What if we make polyjuice potion, and I disguise myself as Narcissa, lead Lucius on for a bit and then prank him?” you asked, playing with the quill in your hands.

Remus groaned, “We’re still on this?” he asked, throwing his head back in disbelief.

“N/n, Remmy is right, we pranked Lucius only the day before yesterday,” Sirius nodded. You raised an eyebrow at him knowing he was never one to back down from a prank on any Slytherin.

And you were right. He wanted to do it. But if that meant Lucius got a chance to be near you even in a slightly romantic way, he would hurl.

And possibly punch him.

“Oh c’monnn Siri,” you whined, putting on your best pleading face and puppy eyes.

Damn those puppy eyes.

Sirius just shook his head, ignoring the way his heart was racing at your look. He watched as you pouted, leaning back on to the couch, head resting on James’s shoulder. “James, help me out here,” you said, folding your arms as you waited expectantly.

But James was too busy staring at a certain redhead and you, still staring at Sirius, nudged James in the chest.

“Huh? What?”

Sirius burst out laughing at the way your face twisted in pure irritation, the other two boys joining in as you hit James repeatedly with a pillow.

“Ow ow! I’m sorry, I'm sorry!” James laughed as you continued your assault fighting the grin that was creeping up on your face.

“Fuck you Potter!” you laughed, as James tried to correct his hair, you stopping him and messing it up further.

Sirius watched the exchange between you both, a sick feeling crawling up his chest. He knew that you both were no more than honorary siblings and it would always be that way, but deep down he wished you were sitting next to him, doing all that silly stuff with him.

He immediately brushed it off, not one to allow feelings to linger for long, replacing his hardened stare with a smirk instead, watching you and James continue to fight like kids, admiring the bright smile on your face.

He wished that that smile would never go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Black, if you could be any animal in the world which was not a dog, which by the way I still don’t understand why that’s your favorite animal, which would you choose?” you asked, mindlessly hooking your hand with his as you both walked to class in 4th year.

He ignored the burst of feelings that erupted in him, trying to focus on your question and not on the way your hand felt against his, clinging on as you pranced lightly. “Uhh, I don’t know” he muttered, his brain fogging up as he refrained himself from staring at your linked hands. You hummed, breaking away from him as James and Remus came into view outside the class.

He paused for a few seconds trying to calm down his erratic heart before shaking his head and entering the class.

You waved him down, patting the seat next you, and the second he sat down, you grabbed his arm, sticking your tongue out at a slytherin girl eyeing you both with pure jealousy written all over her face.

Sirius laughed, “What’s that all about?”

“She likes you,” you pouted, “and asked me, ME to set you both up!” you pointed to yourself in disbelief.

“She looks cute,” Sirius said, winking at the girl.

You gasped at the way the girl blushed in response. “She’s a slytherin!” you exclaimed, swatting his shoulder.

Sirius shrugged, “Good point, guess I’ll have to find someone else then.”

“No way! You’re mine” you said seriously, jabbing a finger at his chest.

His heart erupted, eyes widening. But he played it off quickly, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “You wish sweetheart.”

Your face turned pink, eyes widening. Luckily the professor walked in, not allowing Sirius to dwell on your reaction.

Merlin, he was done for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were always a naturally happy person. The boys had never seen you cry, even though they’d all had their breakdown moments. You’d been their rock through everything.

However, when 5th year started, you’d changed. You opted out of pranks, studying almost all the time and the usual spark in your eyes had faded. James seemed to know what had happened but he refused to let the others know, telling them it was up to you to reveal it to them.

He was worried about you, Sirius could tell, and that made the long-haired boy worry even more.

He’d tried to get you to talk to him, but you’d refused.

Until one day you’d shown up to Charms, puffy-eyed and asked Sirius to meet you in the Astronomy tower after his classes were done for the day.

He’d waited anxiously, and as soon as his classes finished, he ran to find you.

You were standing right where you’d said you’d be, gazing up at the sky. You turned when you saw him, a small smile forming on your lips. But the boy noticed the way it seemed to require so much effort from you, which was never the case before.

You turned away again, wordlessly staring at the sky. He wanted to demand an explanation, no longer able to watch you like this.

“Y/N-”

“I’ve never stopped to think,” you started softly, still staring above. Sirius stepped closer to you, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You took a deep breath before turning to face him.

“I’ve never let myself stop doing things or take a break because then all the thoughts flood the gates and I feel like I’m going to drown. But-” your eyes glazed over as you took a shuddering breath, looking down at your feet.

Sirius grabbed your shaking hands with one of his own, using the other to lift your chin up so that you could look at him.

“I’m listening,” he whispered.

You bit down on your lip before starting again, “But this summer was bad Siri- they- they said the worst things and-” you couldn’t finish as a sob wracked through your body.

Sirius pulled you to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and another lightly around your head as if trying to shield you.

He knew about the situation with your parents. They were almost never at home, and whenever they were, they made it very clear that they hadn’t wanted children in the first place. That’s why you spent most of your time at the Potter’s.

It’s also why you understood his situation so well.

You pulled away, wiping your tears away as you looked at Sirius. “Euphemia says she won’t let me go back this time even if they ask,” you laughed slightly remembering the possessiveness that had come over the older Potter.

Sirius smiled, “Good.”

“Thanks Siri,” you nodded, and Sirius beamed at the real smile that made its way to your face.

“Anytime princess. But don’t get too comfortable, other girls will get jealous.”

You gasped, playfully punching him on his shoulder, “I better be your one and only Black!” you laughed, and he joined in, hiding the way that sentence struck his heart.

Little did you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sirius found himself knocking on the door of the Potter’s house, he didn’t expect for you to open it.

Shit. He’d forgotten you stayed there now.

But he couldn’t back away. He didn’t have the energy, nor did he think you would let him, at the way you gasped in horror as you looked at him.

He mustered all his strength into a cheeky “Hi” before James appeared behind you, giving the same reaction you had seconds before. You stood there in shock, hands over your mouth and eyes watering at the sight of the boy in front of you.

Sirius gave up on trying to fake it, giving in as you and James pulled him inside the house.

“James, get your mom,” you ordered. The boy hesitated as you guided Sirius to the sofa, before you turned and glared at him and he ran off.

Your eyes scanned the boy, a sort of resolve taking you over as you kneeled down in front of him. Sirius was fighting to keep consciousness and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold it for.

“Sirius,” you called gently, placing a hand on his knee, slowly and carefully. “What happened?” you asked.

Sirius didn’t want to relive what his mother had done to him, trying desperately to push it all away, trying to drown himself in your presence. But he knew you’d need an explanation if you were to help him get rid of the immense pain he was feeling right now.

“Cruciatus,” he whispered, noticing the horror and anger that made its way to your face, but also noticing the way the gentleness of your touch hadn’t changed.

“Can’t go back. Ever.” he muttered, and you were quick to adjust yourself so that he could look you in the eyes. “You won’t ever be going back. Even if Euphemia can’t keep us all here, you and I will find another place. But Black,” you placed a careful hand on his cheek and he leaned into it, “You are never. Ever. Going back there.” The seriousness in your voice gave Sirius enough strength to whisper a “Thank you” before partially fading out of consciousness again, comforted by the fact that you were here, and for once in his life feeling that things would be okay.

He could vaguely make out Euphemia and Fleamont’s reaction to seeing him nearly passed out on the couch, and your hurried explanation of whatever you’d understood from what he’d said. Euphemia walked up to him moments later with a some medicine in hand, something about opening his mouth, gulping, and about helping him sleep and doctors and the next day at sunrise. He couldn’t process it, just doing what he was told.

James and you then carefully lifted him, carrying him to a room and gently placing him on a bed.

He could hear you and James both talking in hushed whispers, but he was unable to make out what you were saying, as he fell into a disturbed sleep.

He woke up in the middle of night once, sweating and terrified, haunted by what he’d seen in his nightmare. But before he could properly react and realize where he was, you got up from beside him.

He couldn’t breathe, and tears were streaming down his face. He could see you move to sit in front of him and your lips moving but he couldn’t make out what you were saying.

You then gently placed your hands on his face and surprisingly it helped.

It grounded him, reminded him that he was with you and not with his monstrous parents.

Your voice started to fade back in and he could hear you telling him to breathe, and so he did, thankful that you were there to help him.

Of all the Marauders, he felt the safest with you.

“I’m okay,” he whispered once his breathing was back in his control. You nodded, sighing softly.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking up at your tired eyes, “and I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “I hadn't slept. I was too worried.” You said, moving to sit against the headboard of the bed.

“Sorry for that then,” Sirius said lying back down.

You stared at him for a few minutes before running a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp softly.

“It’s not your fault Sirius, don’t apologize.”

Sirius didn’t respond, trying to focus on you, and on where he was, rather than the memories that were flooding his brain.

You laid down next to him, and Sirius realized that he was infact in your room, and as he turned to apologize once again, you placed a finger on his lips.

“If you apologize for intruding or something like that again, I will make you sleep on the couch.” you threatened your voice laced with humor.

Sirius smiled at you slightly, and you pulled him close to you, allowing him to tuck his face under your chin as you wrapped your hands and legs around him. He was glad you did so, it made him feel safe, and as if you’d heard his thoughts, you whispered into his ear “You’re safe with me Black. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe”

He wished he really was yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius couldn’t find you anywhere. And what worried him more was that he couldn’t find Frank anywhere either.

Why did that matter?

Well as you and Sirius had gotten closer and flirtier, you and Frank had gotten closer too. After the fiasco that took place over the summer, you’d spent more time with the boys in their dorm room and naturally that meant you were hanging out with their roommate Frank Longbottom as well.

And now Sirius was worried that you’d thought his flirting was just him being Sirius and that he had no actual feelings for you.

If you really did think that and if you’d decided to hang out with Frank instead, Sirius had no idea what he would do.

He’d searched every nook and corner of Hogwarts and now the only other place he could think of was Hogsmeade.

Oh Merlin he hoped it wasn’t Hogsmeade.

Sirius snuck out of the school during study hours, making his way to Hogsmeade, anxiety filling him.

As he made his way through hogsmeade, his heart dropped when he saw your familiar figure next to Frank’s.

Your head was thrown back in laughter, and Frank was grinning. “You did great! I’m sure next time will be just as smooth,” you said, patting him on the shoulder.

Next time?

Fear creeped up on Sirius.

He couldn’t lose you to Frank.

He couldn’t lose you to anyone.

He ran up to you and Frank, seeing both of your faces twist in confusion.

“Sirius?”

“You can’t date him!” Sirius exclaimed, pointing to Frank.

“What?” you and Frank both said at once, before realization crossed your features and a small smile formed on your lips.

But Sirius was too anxious and worried to register it, only glaring at Frank.

“Frank, what about you go back, and I’ll figure out what Sirius wants,” Frank nodded at your suggestion and walked off, patting Sirius on the back once.

“Why can’t I date Frank?” you asked, looking at Sirius who was still glaring at the boy who’d just walked away.

He spun around to look at you, surprise all over his face. Anyone could see you struggling to hide your smile and maintain a serious expression on your face, but Sirius was blinded.

“Because- ‘Cause-” Sirius faltered, what he was about to do, dawning on him. He hadn’t wanted to confess to you like this.

“Because?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Because I like you,” he rushed out, scared he would think twice and miss this chance. And the slight tinge of pink in your cheeks gave him confidence.

“Actually no, I don’t like you, I love you. I’m head over heels for you and I cannot imagine not being with you, at all. I want - no need you to be mine”

You grinned, “Black finally confesses! And you really think I would have gone out with Frank when I have feelings for you? He wanted me to help him get ready for the actual date he’s taking Alice on, since she’s my close friend.”

Sirius heard nothing except - “You have feelings for me?”

You laughed, linking your hand with his, “I thought it was obvious!”

He turned you around, looking at you, “You really like me?”

You shook your head, laughing lightly, before leaning up to place your lips against his.

His hand moved to your waist, pulling you in, as your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers entangling in his hair.

You both pulled away a few moments later, gasping for air.

“I’ve been yours since the first day I saw you,” you whispered, eyes locked on his.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too. But I think I love your hair more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglists: @pinchofhoney @targaryenmoony

5K notes · View notes

joelsgreys · 5 months

Text

softness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.

She’d made her entrance into the world early.

About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.

Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.

And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.

For several months, all you could do was hope.

Hope for a smooth pregnancy.

Hope for a safe labor and delivery.

Hope for a strong, healthy baby.

When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.

“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”

Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.

On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.

Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.

“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”

“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”

For a split second, that panic had ceased.

“She?”

Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”

“I did?”

“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”

Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.

“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”

He truly, honestly hadn’t.

It’d slipped before he could even think about it.

But his accidental slip had been right.

After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.

“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.

Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.

“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”

Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.

“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”

Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.

“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”

You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.

“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”

He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born.

“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”

“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.

Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”

Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.

“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”

Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.

Dr. Porter walks into the room.

She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.

“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.

Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”

“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”

“How’s she sleeping?”

“Like a rock.”

“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”

You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”

Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”

“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”

After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.

“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”

“No.”

Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.

Your face falls. “Why not?”

“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”

“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”

“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”

“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”

“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”

The blood drains from his face and he pales.

It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.

He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.

Still.

The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.

Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.

The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.

The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.

The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.

Joel?

He isn’t soft.

Nothing about him is soft.

Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.

“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”

Joel swallows harshly.

“What is it?”

“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”

Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”

His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.

Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.

The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.

And when it does, it breaks down.

“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”

Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”

You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.

The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.

It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.

He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate.

And Rosemary stops crying.

She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.

Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”

“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.

“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.

“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”

Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it?”

Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”

“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”

Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”

Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.

Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.

Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tw pregnancy #tw childbirth #tw premature birth

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writers-hes · 11 months

Note

Request: carmy/reader, jealousy

“you’re so mean to me.” (c. berzatto x reader)

You friend sees you at the Beef while you were helping out at the counter. Carmy feels insecure. (mean!carmy, angst to fluff, just :(, sydney is such a sweetheart, protect carmen at all cost, not sure if there are spoilers, unedited.) - ACCEPTING REQUESTS!

He comes to the Beef with authority and an air of confidence. Richie noticed that he had a designer shirt on, the monogram of some brand littered on it. The shoes on his feet could cover some expenses at the Beef. You were helping out at the counter that day. Carmy has been telling you how stressful the Beef had been since day one and you decided that on your days off, you’d go down to the shop and help. Carmy wished you didn’t come that day…not if he was there.

The first time you came, Carmy was bewildered. He was a blushing, babbling mess when his girlfriend came to help. “Ayo, Jeff, stop staring and give the girl a job!” Tina teased, making Carmy’s ears turn red.

“Alright, Chef,” he said, looking at you, finally breaking out of his trance. “Come to the office and I’ll…orient you,” he takes your hand and brings you to the back office before you could say hi to his coworkers. “Syd, cover for me!”

“Yes, chef!”

He locked the door behind him and kissed your head.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was soft, dripping with vanilla and honey.

“It’s my day-off and you’ve been telling me how much you needed another person at the counter and I decided to come down and help out. I’m sure Richie could help me,” you said. “But if you think that I might disrupt the system, I can leave and stay in the area! We can go on a date after your shift,”

Carmy could just melt. How were you so considerate and beautiful and kind to him? He was so sure that he didn’t deserve you. He was almost certain that you were too good for him. Too good for everyone.

“I promise, I won’t mind whatever you choose, Carm.” you said, smiling softly at him. You could see the gears in his head turning.

“No, no. I want you here,” said. “I want you here.”

“Okay. I’ll stay,” he hears, and you kiss him softly. “I’ll go to Richie and ask him to teach me the basics, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, pecking your lips “Just come to the office if you’re not feeling it, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, leaving the space and leaving a lovesick Carmy in the office.

“Hey, guys! Sorry if I’m here on short notice. I’ll just keep out of your way and help Richie out, okay?” you asked. The kitchen hums and releases a series of “sure”, “okay”, and “thank you’s.”

“Chefs! I’ll take care of family today,” Carmy said a few moments later. He was watching you joke around with Richie. He was teaching you the basics and teaching you how to take orders.

The first time you helped out, Carmy was tense. He didn’t want anything to happen to you. Nothing to touch you but soon, once you were well-integrated in their system, the kitchen found themselves looking forward to every Wednesday when Carmy was calmer, less annoying, and less rude. It’s like you take out every bad thing in him.

Not today though. Not when Richie saw your eyes widen in recognition, an instantaneous sweet smile plastered on your face.

“Ayo, cousin!” he calls, while you almost literally jumped over the counter to talk to this guy.

“Lawrence!” you greeted, taking him in a hug. “How are you? Richie, this is my childhood friend, Lawrence. Lawrence, this is Richie,”

Richie could only give a grimace and a half-assed wave. Where the fuck was Carmy?

“Wait for a bit,” you asked. “Sit down, okay? Your sandwich is on the house.” You looked at Richie to ask if he could cover for a few minutes and he nodded. He shouts at the order in the kitchen.

“Who’s that asshole?” he asked, getting a glass of pop.

“My childhood friend,” you said. “We grew up in the same street together,”

“What does he do?”

“Finance…I think? It’s been a while since we last talked. I think last year?” you wondered. “I didn’t even know that he was still in Chicago because we saw each other in New York,”

“Carmy knows him?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t talk about him alot. I think Carmy only knows him as a childhood friend,” you said. “They’ve never met each other.”

Richie gives you the drink and the sandwich that Tina prepared. You uttered a thanks before walking to whereLawrence sat.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said, taking the sandwich from the tray.

“I didn’t know you still lived here,” you said. “The last time that I saw you was in New York. I thought you were a big finance guy?”

“Ah, I quit,” he shrugged. “Decided to start my own start-up here in Chicago. I had enough savings and well, you know,”

“Of course,” you nod. “I don’t work here. I just help out once a week because everything’s been so busy,”

“Hm,” he hums. “My employees have been raving about the sandwiches here since the new management took over. Decided to try it out and sure enough, you were there.”

“Fuck! Where the fuck were you?” Richie asked Carmy when he finally came through the back door. Some rich asshole has been wooing your girl in the seating area. Says he’s her childhood friend or some shit,”

“Who?” Carmen asked, removing his jacket.

“Your girlfriend took a break to talk to a customer, Jeff.” Tina said. Carmy frowned, walking briskly to you. The staff huddled, intrigued at how this could unfold. Carmy has never felt jealousy before. He’s never had to deal with girlfriends and their guy friends that definitely look at you too long. He’d never have to deal with Lawrence who was so obviously flirting with you. He’d never have to deal with you accepting it. The jealousy consumes him.

“Carmy! Come here,” you said when you finally noticed him. He’s been standing there for minutes while you listened to this guy drone on about how bored he was with his money. How you were probably meant to see each other again.

“Hey,” Carmy greets the guy in front of you. A chair scrapes loudly on the floor, reverberating in the whole restaurant. He sits down.

“Carmy’s the owner of this place,” you told Lawrence. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“He is?” Lawrence asked and Carmy could feel him sizing him up in his dirty white t-shirt. “I’m Lawrence. We grew up together,”

“Oh,” Carmy said. “Uh, babe, can I talk to you for a minute in the office?”

“Sure,” you said. “I have to go,” you told Lawrence, who stood up as well. His sandwich was half-eaten and it annoyed Carmy. Had he no respect to at least finish the food in front of the chef who made it? Asshole.

“No, it’s fine. I’m leaving too,” Lawrence said. “I have a meeting around here. I’ll see you?” he asked.

“Of course,” You removed your hand from Carmen to hug Lawrence and it fucking hurt. Lawrence kisses the side of your head before sparing a glance to Carmy. What an asshole.

“What was it, Carm?” you asked, smiling. You were almost forgiven because of how sweet you looked but Carmy have always felt things too intensely. He couldn’t stop what came from his mouth and it was too late. Too fucking late and the damage has been done.

“Go home,” he said, coldly. Your face fell and Carmen wanted to take it back. He felt you recoil yourself away from him, as if he’s hurt you. As if he burned you.

“Bear?” you asked softly.

“Go home,” he repeated. You frowned, grief-stricken but you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll…I’ll just get my stuff from the locker,”

Carmy looks away from you and you clear your throat. Walking away from him, you saw the staff pretend like they weren’t listening.

“Hey, guys. I’m going…going home,” you said, trying to stabilize your wavering voice. Tears were threatening to spill but you blink them away. “I don’t feel well, and I realized I have this…thing to attend to.” you lied.

“Of course, sweets,” Tina says. “Get home safely, okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’ll let you know once I’m home.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sydney says, glaring at Carmen.

“No, it’s— “

“It’s just a few blocks away. I’ll take you.” she says, and you nodded, walking to the locker room with her.

“Sorry for being such a bother,” you said while you waited for her to change into her outside shoes.

“You’re not,” she reassured. “Let’s go?”

“I didn’t know what I did wrong,” you said, walking away from The Beef. “I was just so excited to see my friend. We grew up together, you know? In the same street. Went to the same school and we haven’t seen each other in a year. I didn’t know what I did for Carmy to be so mean.”

“It’s okay,” Syd says, not wanting to get in the middle. “Just explain things to him, okay? You’re the only person he listens to.”

“I guess,” you nodded, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I just…he’s never been that way to me before. It feels new and I don’t like it,”

Syd, who’s been on the receiving end of Carmy Berzatto’s anger, wanted to protect you from him but it wasn’t her place. She wanted so badly to tell you to let him cool off.

The remaining walk back to your apartment was quiet. You both didn’t know what to say, where to start.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked Sydney. “Refresh a bit?”

“No, I’m fine. I might be needed at the restaurant,” Syd says. You nod, going in for a goodbye hug with your friend. “I’ll see you?”

“Yeah. Thanks for walking me home. Stay safe, okay?”

The kitchen hated Carmy that day. He was ruder, more annoying, more…insufferable. Tina said that he handled the situation wrong, Eibrahim and the others, except for Richie agreed. So, when Sydney comes back, the first thing she say was, “What the fuck, Carmen?”

“Stay out of it, Sydney,” Richie warns but Sydney did not give a fuck. Seeing her friend so defeated, so sad stirred something in her. Maybe she was biased because she actually liked you

“She was crying all the way from here,” she said. Carmy felt like he was going to throw up. “Grow up, Carmy. Just because you can’t handle that she has other friends, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on her.”

“Fuck off, Sydney.”

Sydney stands, taken aback. She was just trying to help.

“Fine,” she says, blinking. “But if you come to an empty home, don’t take it out on us.”

Sydney’s warning rang in his ears as he drove home. He was anxious but his anger superseded every emotion that he was feeling. That was why, when he opened the door, he immediately looked for you.

“Who was that?” he demanded. Anxiety and anger had such a bad mix and he knew it. He couldn’t stop. That friend of yours made him feel so insecure.

“Carmen,” you sighed. “He’s my friend. Lawrence. I told you about him before,”

“Carmen?” he chuckled. He’s just Carmen now? “I don’t like him.”

“Why?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s nice. I was actually so excited for the two of you to meet until you ruined it. He’s my friend that I haven’t seen in over a year, Carmy. Wasn’t it a natural reaction to be excited?”

“What? You’re telling me that I ruined your little date in my restaurant?” he asked, voice raising. “That’s nice. Sorry for bothering you,”

“We weren’t even doing anything wrong!” you said, walking away. You didn’t want this—you just wanted to talk about things without screaming.

“Hey! Get back here, I’m talking to you!”

“Talk about what, Carmen?” you asked. “You’re not listening to me. Okay? What is there to talk about?”

“You let him all over you like that! Took a break just to spend time with him,” he sneered. “And-and he looked at you like you were his. You let him kiss you. You let him do things to you and you just fucking accepted it.”

“What?” you asked. “Lawrence and I grew up like that There’s nothing wrong with it,” you tried. You were probably being too defensive, not letting Carmy explain his side but you were hurt when he dismissed you just like that. When he let you go without a kiss. He just looked away when you were pleading with him.

“So, you’d rather defend your old fucking friend instead of trying to fix this bullshit,” Carmen spits. “Heard,”

“What?” your heart dropped. “Bullshit?” The first tear falls like it was rehearsed. It broke your heart to hear Carmy call you relationship bullshit when you’ve spent the best days of your life with him. When you helped him through the nightmares…when he took care of you. “Bullshit, huh, Carmen?”

You couldn’t form a string of coherent sentences. Your mouth was agape, trying to process what he just said. Fix this bullshit. Fix this bullshit. You nod, pursing your lips to stop yourself from crying.

Bullshit. It was when you stayed up late to make sure that he slept peacefully, threading your fingers in his golden hair so he could feel your presence. Bullshit. It was when you picked him up from some bar downtown because he decided to drink with Richie. Bullshit. It was when you sacrificed your days-off just so you could spend more time together. Bullshit. It was when he showed up on your first date with flowers that you pressed in between the pages of your favorite book. Bullshit. It was when Carmen told you that he loved you because you made him a burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit. It was ringing in your ear, breaking your heart in a million pieces.

“Fuck, baby,” Carmen takes it back when you moved to walk towards the door. “I’m sorry— “

“Is that all it was to you?” you asked. “Bullshit? Is that why you dismissed me so coldly earlier? Because it’s bullshit?” Tears are on your face now and you wipe them away. “It’s bullshit, huh?”

“Baby…”

“Don’t,” you said. “Fuck, you’re so…so mean,” you said, crouching on the floor to shield yourself away from him. “I…I don’t know what I did wrong,” you whispered. “And I’m sorry if my actions hurt you but that’s how I grew up with Lawrence. I didn’t know that I was hurting you but, fuck,” you sobbed. “You’re so mean to me, Bear.” You didn’t mean it as an endearment, and he knew that.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, crouching down to your level. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers, taking you in his arms. You didn’t want to fight back. “I’m sorry for-for doing that. For projecting my insecurities on you. I just…he has life figured out and I could never give you what he could give. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry,”

“I don’t want him,” you sniffled. “I’m with you, you know? Please…please, don’t call it bullshit. Because it’s not…for me, at least.”

“It’s not bullshit. I’m sorry, so fucking sorry for saying that. I’m so sorry,” he rambles sincerely. “You’re the best person that I’ve met. I love you. I love you so much that the thought of anyone else loving you drives me mad. I’m sorry,”

“You were mean to me,”

“I was, baby. I was,” he said. “I promise to stop myself from being mean. I’m so sorry. I don’t-don’t want to lose you. Please-please don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going to leave you, Carmen.” you cooed, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Not that name, please. I’m just so fucking sorry for saying that and making you feel bad. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m sorry too. I should have been more considerate. I love you so much, Bear.”

“It’s my fault. All my fault,”

“It’s not.”

“Can we-can we go to bed?” he asked, pulling away from you. You nodded. That night, when you were half-asleep, you felt his calloused hand caress your cheek. You’d never tell him, but you heard him. Loud and clear.

“I love you,” he whispers. “You don’t know how much I love you and I’m sorry. I love you.”

A/N: No Carmen Berzatto taglist yet! Also, if you’re waiting for the Tommy Shelby fic, you might have a to wait a week more before I release it. I want to release a chapter every week and I haven’t written the second chapter for this week yet. Thank you for reading! Don’t forget to leave comments and reblogs :)

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #fanfiction #angst #fluff #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto angst #carment berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto angst #the bear fx #ask

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roselise · 1 year

Note

I hope you are recovering quickly darling girl 😖💖💖💖💖

Aw! My friend! ♡ ♡

I wish I could give you a million hugs to reassure you right now!

You are so very kind, and wonderful to think of me like this! I genuinely feel very touched right now to know you care. ♡

I am trying!! :’)

I do not wish to worry people, and my puppies miss me when I’m not home so I will be doing my best to take care of myself!

Thank you for your sweet concern though, ‘cause it really cheers me up! It makes me feel special, and I’m so happy for that. ♡

I hope you take care, too!! So please stay safe and be good to yourself for me, okay?

Sending hugs, hearts, and much happiness! I pray that you have a bright & beautiful day today, friend ~ !! XO ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 🌸 ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ . 🤍

#<3 #ask #i am surprised :’)#but so happy to know that you wish me well friend !#this genuinely made my night <3 #thank you so much for your kindness !!#it really made a difference to me c:#i pray that in return you are blessed in abundance !#and that your day will be full of good things !#hugs & hearts ! <3 #take care my friend !! <3 #xo ! <3 #🌸 ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ . 🤍

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zhongrin · 4 months

Text

skilled fingers, devious heart

✼ characters ┈ al haitham

✼ tags ┈ minors dni, fem-bodied reader (reader has a pussy), bratty!reader, manhandling, restraints, orgasm denial/control, edging, brat taming, light degradation, oral, light spanking, overstimulation, hint of c█rr█pt█d!haitham (hence he has his mean moments), aftercare, longfic (3.6k+)

✼ a/n ┈ “let me just draft a quick birthday oneshot for al haitham!” ー meirin, a total clown, circa 2024 /silly ..... anyways, happy birthday to the silliest man in sumeru. i love him dearly and i love that his bday is literally just a day away from my mom and one of my besties. very convenient to remember lol also, happy chinese new year!!! ✨

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

when you asked your boyfriend what he wanted to do for his birthday, you didn't think he would ask for this. then again, al haitham was mostly an unpredictable man, even to you as his lover. he seemed to have a knack for constantly having you on your toes, always anticipating his next actions and reminding you how much of a complex individual he was despite his simple aspirations in life.

such as now, when he requested you to ‘spread your legs and stay still’.

contrary to him, your answer was - at least in his eyes - predictable. a raise of eyebrows, a fox-like grin tugging on your lips, and al haitham could already hear the smug tone of your voice before you could even spoke the words, “make me.”

the fact that you loved to play a dangerous game with a dangerous man always came back to bite you in the ass, but your boyfriend played his part so well, it kept you coming back for more. he knew just the right way to respond to your challenge that made you shiver with want: muscles flexing as he pinned you down onto your shared bed, your preferred choice of restraints keeping you immobile and indecently spread for his blooming green eyes to observe. his pupils lined with brick reds dilated, the scholar stared at the resulting sight like a museum curator appraising an acclaimed artwork.

despite this, you were a fervent fire ablaze in the face of downpour, “it’s not like you to brute force your way into tackling a problem. was this morning’s session not enough for mister feeble scholar?”

ah. this artwork sure has a feisty personality to it.

al haitham snorted, his arm moving to place a hand on your inner thigh, tracing circles and indescribable patterns, “why do you bother futilely talking back and acting resilient in front of me, when it’s obvious how much power i hold over you? even the brightest students know to learn from their mistakes, so have you not learned from this morning about how powerless you are?”

he would never admit it, but while such display of bullheadedness irritated him when it came from other people, somehow it was almost adorable coming from you.

“wh- i'm not powerless!”

“the facts proved against your favor, however. especially considering how i’ve just succeeded in tossing you onto our bed and holding your body down. i know i could do whatever i wanted with you… and i was right, wasn’t i?” the hand holding your thigh squeezed briefly, his breath slowly caressing your skin the more he leaned closer, “besides, it’s also been proven that you like such treatments.”

you blushed, memories that proved his claims flooding your mind. yet, you huffed and looked away in hope to alleviate the warmth that was starting to bubble on your cheeks.

“so you might be needlessly strong physically, yes, okay, whatever. would you like a gold star for that?”

unfortunately(?) for you, despite the biting words, he didn’t miss the signs of your flustered state. his voice was as leveled as ever as more silken words fell from his lips; the very same ones you wished would just kiss you already, “remember how I pinned your hands above your head? how you tried kicking and wriggling, saying how you ‘can’t’ and yet… we both knew what exactly happened after that, don’t we?”

you felt your core clench at the taunt, throat swallowing at the picture he painted. your legs tugged against the straps as if you wanted to kick him. in turn, all you got back was an amused low chortle.

“cute,” the soft remark almost flew by you, but alas, before you could snap back at him, his touch started to trail further, tracing your labia before spreading the pink folds open with his fingers. an embarrassed squeak by you was followed by a condescending hum by your partner, his eyes zeroing on the slick coating your pretty clit and inner lips that oozed the remnants of your prior lovemaking, “and so mouthwateringly indecent.”

his digits dragged against your dripping cunt, a teasing smirk dancing on his face when a soft noise left your throat in response.

"such a mess," he remarked, infuriatingly nonchalant as if he hadn’t loved you so intensely just a few hours ago, “you were truly, completely cockdrunk last night, weren't you?"

“s-shut up…”

“why should i? you’ve mentioned how much you liked my voice. i doubt your perspectives had changed since then.”

“you don’t know that. maybe i don’t like it anymore,” you countered pettily.

“yet your body seems to arrive at a different conclusion,” the languid lull in his voice couldn’t mask the delight he experienced as he saw your sopping wetness drip with want. your lover smirked, dragging his finger up and down slowly, gathering your slick to circle around your swollen pearl, feathery touches leaving you wanting for more. the way you were shaking, your body twitching from sensitivity in return of his ministrations, was almost as hot as actual sex itself.

“ah… you meanie-” you inhaled sharply as this wicked, wicked man purposefully started rubbing your clit in the way he knew would make you putty in his hands. firm and calculated flicks followed by a finger slipping into your creamy cunt made you keen wantonly, thighs momentarily spreading wider before you found your decorum, rear falling back onto the soft sheets, teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

al haitham watched in fascination as you tried to regain your attitude. he wondered how long that would last this time. you were a puzzle that enthralled him, a chorus he wanted to listen forever. he might not have been studying under kshahrewar back in his younger days, but there was a part of him that wanted to pick you apart and put you back together again.

this was why he was so addicted to you.

he didn’t particularly enjoy doing extra work, but given the reward waiting for him at the end of the road, he determinedly doubled his action; one finger tapping and circling, the other knuckle-deep inside your tight heat, intense and unforgiving.

“fffuck- h-haitham-” the stutter of your needy voice sharpened his smirk, expression hardening into focus as he observed the twitch of your hips and the rivulets of juices coating his appendages. he briefly admired the way your skin glowed in perspiration, the way your fleshy parts rippled as you squirmed under him. no words could properly capture the desire brewing and consuming his whole being at having the privilege to witness such a sight.

he saw your breathing quicken, felt the clenching and unclenching of your walls, the way you started to move your hips as far as the restraints allowed, and your abdomen dipping as you inched nearer and nearer to bliss.

a mean glint of red, and his fingers withdrew quickly.

“wha- ah?”

you blinked and panted, eyes snapping wide as the coil loosened, and your sight settled on al haitham’s smug tilt of his head.

“i told you to stay still.”

“you… you prick! meanie! bastard!”

“that’s not the attitude you should be adapting given the current position of power,” he chided, before his hand deviously dropped back to its previous position, resuming in a much teasingly slower pace; a silent implication of what he could have done but chose not to, ”if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.”

“-son of a- oh! a-ah-” your words failed you as he added one extra finger into your warmth, prodding just near your favorite spot within the gummy walls, yet never directly.

you knew he could go deeper. he was dangling that carrot over you, and you were tempted to fall for his little game.

“pardon? what was that?” he asked, and if you didn’t see the way the corner of his lips curl up through your bleary eyes, you might have believed that he truly missed your barrages of insults born out of frustration, “would you like to say it louder?”

“archons, you- j-jerk!”

“oh?”

the sudden shift of his touch, turning firmer and faster, made you gasp and whimper, body twitching involuntarily as you felt the sensation build up yet again. your toes curl and your calves tensed, tugging against the harness as your biting words turned into needy moans. a shudder rocked your body, the back of your head digging onto the soft mattress as you felt him mouth on your collarbone, nibbling, tormenting in the most delectable way.

“use your words, darling. you were so smart with them just seconds ago.”

“haa- ngh! j-just let me cum, you unfair little-”

al haitham sighed like a disappointed tutor who had just discovered that his best student had earned an F in their recent exam. the sudden loss of his touch and the way you were forced to come down from that white-hot lines of satisfaction yet again made you cry out, the restraints straining noisily as you tried to buck onto something, anything.

a smirk returned onto his face as he witnessed your verbal and physical protest. that’s right, not yet. this was why he adored your stubbornness. he was going to tease and torment you until you were a total wreck, and then he would give you your reprieve in multitudes.

“how obstinate of you to continue denying your desires even when all outcomes dictate your loss,” the man remarked, palming your soft thighs and enjoying the way they dipped under the pressure of his hands. he was tempted to leave a few reds in the shape of his handprints, but he refrained… for now. that can come later.

“h-haitham….,” you mustered the wettest puppy eyes you could manifest - which wasn’t that hard considering the tears of pleasure already pooling in your eye lines - and blinking though your lashes at him, an adorable pout on your lips.

“what? is something missing to really help you release all of that tension?" he faked an indifferent tone fully meant to provoke.

you groaned, shivering as you felt the cold air brushing your flushed skin and swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, “al haitham...!” you whined while quivering, eyes blown in desire, your pride refusing to budge any more than this.

the man smirked as your protests weakened with every seconds that ticked, the look of desire and lust in your eyes clearly increasing in intensity the more he reveled in your plight.

"hm?" he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "still being stubborn?" he moved his middle finger towards the folds of your pussy, dragging it along your indecently leaking entrance and up into your aching clit, swirling slowly and making you shiver in response. even the smallest movements resulted in a sound that showcased how drenched you were, and it was all according to his plans, "are you sure you want to keep playing this game? you know who’s the more patient one in this relationship… you’re all tied up and i’m free to do this all day if i wanted to. i wouldn’t mind — it would be a good way to spend my day off.”

eyes teary, teeth gnawing on your lip, you bucked your hips as his finger touched the swollen nerves directly this time, "s-shut up...! you’re so- ugh! if you’re gonna be so cruel then don’t touch me at all!"

your beloved chuckled, dragging his digits up and down in the same teasing motion, playing with your sensitivity with a touch that sent you teetering to heaven but bordering to hell with how tortuously slow it was. he was a master as you were a slave to pleasure; your moans ramping up into wounded desperation just as he guided you back into the tightrope of lust, spiraling into the ecstasy you so desperately sought. you sobbed and trembled; heart beating loudly in your ears. you were so helplessly pent-up, so deliciously close-

“beg.”

the devil’s voice entered your ears and you grit your teeth. he wouldn’t, right? not for the third time. no, he wasn’t that despicable, he wouldn’t. he’ll give it to you, he’s-

“beg.”

the pressure lightened, and you inhaled sharply.

“please!” the word fell from your lips before you could stop them, “i need- i want…!”

your boyfriend stopped, a trail of your slick followed his appendages’ ascent as he withdrew to appreciate the stream of glistening slick coating your tender pussy and how your hips canted, trying to guilelessly chase his touch, throat singing a needy whine that sounded so beautiful he was almost tempted to keep denying your release for the next hour.

“haitham, please, please!” you sounded so high-pitched and so utterly adorable, he couldn’t help but place a peck on your thigh. tears of relief joined your tears of pleasure as you saw his pleased smile and the way he complied with your begging, though it still wasn’t enough.

“yes? don’t just call my name, darling. elaborate. go on, you can do it,” he carried on with the slow circles around your throbbing clit, fingers barely pumping into your drooling cunt.

“please! i can’t take it anymore…!" you hiccuped, keening, abdomen twitching, so sensitive that the slightest touch was making you toe on the brink of insanity.

al haitham smirked wickedly, watching as your mind and body were losing that self-control, your hips rocking back and forth while your face and eyes colored with pleasure. breathing in disarray, body a quivering mess, he almost wished he had a kamera to immortalize this perverse scene.

“are you asking me to help you release?”

“b-begging! i’m begging you- please let me cum!” you were definitely on the edge, shuddering, legs trying to flail against the tight bondage. a pleased groan rumbled in his throat, and his hand finally reverted into the pace and motions that made you see stars.

“louder,” a command.

“please help me cum!!!”

your muscles tensed as you tasted the precipice of bliss, your lips babbling, chanting his name and a series of undignified pleadings that implored him to not stop this time. you received an approving hum for your clear show of subservience and a soft peck on your cheek that made you moan in appreciation.

“i hope you didn’t forget what i said earlier,” he whispered against your ear, sultry and littered with hidden mischievous intent that you completely missed, too focused on reaching that high with each flick of his wrist and with each pressing prod of his finger—

the expertly placed thrust onto your g-spot was the cause of your crumble into depravity; walls sucking him in as your back arched in your climax. lips open in a silent scream, you missed the adoring look of your lover as he watched you spiral into bliss.

ah, your blissful ignorance is always so, so delicious to see.

before you could even start to wind down from your intense release, the sinful appendages picked up their salacious endeavors once more, three of them stirring your sopping wet mess and massaging your sweet spot relentlessly. al haitham’s mouth latched on your swollen bundle, his tongue flicking and sucking in turn, savoring your sweet taste and basking in your erotic cries that followed.

“can’t! can’t- too much! h-ah-ngh-!”

he ignored your feeble protests in favor of focusing on the task at hand; tongue lapping on the copious juices dribbling out of you as he pumped the slender fingers right onto your sensitive pussy’s weak spot. the sounds of your wetness echoed indecently in the room, a lewd orchestration of sensuality accompanied by your reprehensible babbling.

the second orgasm crashed against your senses and you sobbed, whining and jolting as he helped you ride it to your most satisfaction. eyes rolling, you barely registered the way he lapped at your juices like a man starved, before pulling back to observe the effect of his unholy actions. and he must have seen something, for when your vision cleared from euphoria, he had taken to caress you once again.

“one more. you can give me one more,” the rasp in his voice sent a jolt of desire in your loins, yet at the same time, the overstimulation had started to settle in. this time, the pleasure made your whole body tremor and for once you had no idea if the straps were a blessing or a curse; your limbs flailed and strained, instinctively writhing at the assault of stimulation.

“f-fuck! oh! a-archons- my love, please!!”

“i told you, didn’t i?” he purred, salacious and mocking, a flicker of red and a sneer, “’if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.’ well, my love, i am not yet satisfied.”

all senses of modesty had been thrown out of the window at this point. a series of disgraceful noises left your throat, tears running down your temples as you stayed rooted to your spot on the bed, oxytocin flooding your brain and numbing your senses. stringing words proved to be difficult when you were oversensitive and your lover seemed determined to see you mindless and utterly ruined by his touches.

if before, you were a helpless traveler stranded on a desert chasing on the mirage of an oasis, this time you felt like you were drowning in an ocean full of pleasure. all senses submerged in the ruthless waves of unbridled desires that made you both paralyzed and set you aflame.

“look at you,” al haitham's words came out harsh despite having a pleased hum to it as he battered your fleshy nub harder, insistent and undeterred by your unconvincing protests. he smirked, pleased with your cries and senseless noises leaving your lips, free from your brain’s usual filtering. your mind and body were already beyond your control as he slowly edged you closer and closer to that sweet release yet again. “so needy for me. gushing endlessly like you’re in heat.”

he watched you writhe and quake, a sliver of drool escaping the side of your opened mouth, his cock straining against the confines of his pants, but oh, he was enjoying every second of it. his free hand palmed your thigh before delivering a light slap, his eyes dilating when it made your breath hitch and your body jerk. each impact brought you to the absolute edge of delirium, and every time the pads of his fingers grind and stretched your gummy walls, the more debauched pleas left your emptied mind.

“c-cumming! cumming! i’m close, love, please! i’m- ah—”

“good,” it was almost sadistic, how he seemed to take so much satisfaction from seeing you so shamefully addicted to his mere fingers, “then come.”

a choked sob and a few insistent taps onto your oversensitive clit took your vision into a realm of whites. your finish was immaculately designed to enrapture you in a burst of nothingness, where nothing else mattered but you and your boyfriend's eloquent expertise. ears ringing, your consciousness temporarily froze in the state of heavenly rapture.

when you came down from the vivid paradise, you found your limbs freed from the restraints, your lover dutifully checking the reddened skin to make sure you hadn’t caused any injuries to yourself. seeing your glazed eyes settling onto his form, he leaned over and stroked your cheek, speaking in a soft voice with a caring tone far too detached from the demeaning and authoritative tone just moments ago.

“you did so well.”

though your senses were totally fried from the overstimulation and you still couldn’t exactly feel your limbs, a loopy grin spread on your lips. soft pair of green eyes watched you in adoration as he tucked you onto his chest, a gentle kiss descending on top of your head as he cradled you within his arms.

“verdict from one to ten?”

“mmmm…. twenty.”

“hm. it appears you’re still more delirious than i judged.”

a playful swat to his side was all you could manage, and you were rewarded with the rare soft laugh of your usually stoic lover.

“you’re adorable.”

“and you’re mean.”

“you speak as if the attitude does not bring you joy.”

“shut up and cuddle me.”

“ordering me around on my birthday? you’re spoiled.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“mine,” al haitham admitted with a smile, silently grateful for your presence, your witty banter, your hardheadedness, your loving eyes, your everything — you, who were undoubtedly and indubitably….

“mine,” he repeated and pressed another kiss, this time to your lips: a silent promise for spending his next birthdays with you once again.

bonus:

“still,” you sighed into his hold as your breathing steadied, looking up at him in half curiosity and half concern, “this doesn’t seem like a birthday present for you.”

al haitham looked down at you, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning. he guided your hand, and your small daydream of him being unusually romantic to initiate hand holding before spewing some cheesy lines like in those light novels were dashed when you found a familiar hardness twitching against your palm.

“bold of you to you think that my appetizer was the main course.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #al haitham x reader #al haitham #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #minors dni

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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

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Incorrect Quotes

all of these were from Pinterest - cause I'm not this funny (I also couldn't wait for the next chapter to come out so here :D)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN! - 26 spots still open! (please send me a direct message to be added!)

Y/n: I’m cool Oscar Y/n: I’m THEE coolest Y/n: In fact, I was once arrested for being too cool *puts on sunglasses* Oscar: The charges were dropped because there was no supporting evidence. Also, your glasses are upside down.

Y/n: I have a very specific type Max: Oh yeah? Like what? Y/n: Y’know…polite, handsome, athletic…that sort of thing Arthur (on his fourth energy drink of the day) tripping over camera wires and holding his mic upside down: you little shit eating, damned pathetic piece of shit – now you listen here Y/n: *heart eyes* that one. I want that one. Max: *flabbergasted*

Lando: bet you’re standing in the corner because you’re scared that you’ll get turned down if you talk to anyone Y/n: please, I could fluster near everyone at this party if I chose to Oscar: oh yeah? Prove it. Go for someone borderline impossible and I’ll believe you Y/n, approaching Arthur: hey dumbass, hoodie looks kind of cute on you, wanna get out of here? Arthur: WH- I MEAN- UHHHH YEAH SURE Y/n: perfect Oscar and Lando:

Y/n: I brought a red bull Max: I don’t want a red bull Y/n: I didn’t bring this for you. This is my red bull. Max: then why are you telling me? Y/n: It’s a conversation starter. Max: That’s a lousy conversation starter Y/n: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate *sips red bull*

Y/n: *gently taps table* Logan: *taps back* Alex: what are they doing? George: morse code Y/n: *aggressively taps table* Logan: *slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

Lewis: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated Y/n: Killed without hesitation Lewis: nO!

Y/n: Is stabbing someone immoral? Mitch: Not if they consent to it. Max: Depends on who you’re stabbing. Christian: YES?!

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle. Y/n: Shit Logan: Wait, three? Cop: yeah? Lando: OH MY GOSH OSCAR FELL OFF!!

Max: Time for plan G. Liam: Don’t you mean plan B? Daniel: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Y/n: What about plan D? Daniel: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Max: What about plan E? Liam: I’m hoping not to use it. I die in plan E Yuki: I like plan E.

Christian: Did none of you think this was a bad idea? *Y/n, Max, Charles, and Arthur covered in navy and red paint* Y/n: Oh no, we all did. We just decided to do it anyway.

George: (in sunglasses and newest Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit) *in the most posh accent* I’m too good for revenge Logan: (covered in bug spray, cowboy hat and overalls on, pumped full of Bang energy drink and high on freedom) *cocks shotgun* Well, I’m not. Give me the name.

Arthur: So what’s your type? Y/n: Kinda long blond hair, green eyes, dumb, dimples, funny, really thin waist Arthur: Huh, that kind of sounds like me! Too bad its not me! Y/n: did I mention dumb? Arthur: yeah, why? Y/n: just making sure

*Over Text*

Y/n: Hey pretty boy, what’re you up to? :) Arthur: Eating cereal in bed Y/n: And what would you be doing if I was in bed with you? Arthur:…I would still be eating my cereal?

Waitress: And what would you like to eat? Y/n: I wish to devour the unborn Fernando: Eggs, she would like eggs

Y/n: Do you think that when sheep go to sleep they count themselves? Lando: Or do they count humans? Y/n: Ooo, that’s a good question Oscar: GO TO SLEEP

Y/n to Max: because I am a mature adult *turns to see Mitch, Christian, and Vito shake their heads* *turns back to Max* Y/n: I am an adult

*Dinner with Max, Y/n, Charles, and Arthur*

Y/n: The food is too cute, I can’t eat it! Max: Charles: Arthur: You’re cute, but I’d still eat y- Max: ONE DINNER Charles: *sighs* here we go again Max: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK Y/n: Charles, this pasta is also crunchy, I truly can’t eat this

Ollie: Good night everyone Arthur: Good night Lando: Good night Oscar: Good night Y/n: good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Tonight, imma fight until we see the sunlight. Tik tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop Oscar: I’M DONE

George (t-posing in the doorway): Greetings, parental figures and sister figure *Y/n, Lewis, and Toto walking past* Toto (not looking up from his coffee): Good morning, problem child

Christian: You see, Fernando, Y/n is at the age where she only has one thing on her mind Fernando (noticeably excited): Oh! Oh! Oh! Boys? Max (looking over at the dead tired rookie with revenge in her eyes as she looks at Esteban): No. Murder.

Y/n: Hey Liam, want some of this food? Liam: Sure, thanks! Yuki (storming in with the anger of the gods): WHO TF ATE MY LEFTOVERS THAT CLEARLY HAD MY NAME ON IT Y/n: WE did Liam: You surprisingly smart little mf

Y/n: Never have I ever…Been grounded by my parents! Arthur (exasperated): Every time. She makes disownment jokes every time and she always wins Max: Good one Kid. I always go for the ‘never had a dad who supported me.’ Charles: *stands up and walks away*

Y/n: I’ve only said I love you to four people. Christian, Vito, Arthur, and Max when I thought he died after he wouldn’t respond after a DNF. I only regret one of those Lando: Which one? Y/n: Max. He was just pressing the wrong button and walked out a few minutes later. He made me look like an idiot. Max: I let you win next race Y/n: still

(Y/n, Logan, Lando, and George trying to sneak into RB for more energy drinks after being banned from drinking more)

Logan: So what do you think Y/n will do as a distraction? Lando: She’ll probably, like, make a noise George: Or throw a rock. That’s what I would do *The door flings open and smoke follows. Screams of mechanics fill the air as they try to extinguish a small fire* Logan:…Or she could do that.

Y/n: When I die, donate my entire body to science Y/n: Except my middle finger, give that to Esteban

(max and y/n in a horror movie)

Max: QUICK YOU’RE LOSING A LOT OF BLOOD. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? Y/n (bleeding out): tall, male, brown hair, dimples, caring, supportive, Monegasque Max: BLOOD TYPE DUMBASS Y/n: oh Y/n: (looks down at wound) Y/n: red

Lando: I wish we could block people in real life. Oscar: Restraining order Y/n: Murder

Christian: Y/n, we need to talk about your professionalism for media days Y/n (and a lot of media personelle she rounded up, all standing on chairs): those are some mighty brave words for someone standing in lava

Y/n (to Max while hiding behind some tires – regretting everything): and then I called him dad Christian (to Geri – trying not to cry while cameras are everywhere): and then she called me dad

Max: Christian, look what Y/n got me for father’s day *holds up generic #1 dad mug* Christian (glaring silently while sipping from his own #1 dad mug) Max: that lying rookie Vito (holding a worn down #1 dad mug): you guys are late to the party suckers

Criminals: We have your daughter and son Toto: I don’t have a daughter and Jack is right here Criminals: then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwiches? Christian: dear God, you have Y/n and George

Mitch: So Christian, you and Geri want to be a parents again someday? Christian: Someday? We’re parents right now. Mitch: Y/n is your employee Geri: She is our BLOOD

Christian: Max is late again Kelly: I woke him up at 8 and pretended it was 11 Y/n: I wrote a fake schedule saying we were starting at 9 instead of 12 Lando: I changed his clock from AM to PM Christian: I think you may have overdone it Max (bursting into the garage): WHAT YEAR IS IT?

Y/n: If I blended Red Bull, five hour energy, monster, coffee, and hot Cheetos into an energy smoothie...would it kill me? Logan: *shrugs* only if you die Y/n (getting out the blender): you're so smart Logan Max (running into the room): y/N STOP!

Lance: I got Netflix like you asked! Y/n: OH that's amazing! I've been mooching off Max's and Arthur's accounts for a while. This will be nice! Lance: Wait, what do you mean accounts? Y/n: Their Netflix accounts? Lance: Y/n: Like their profiles? I wanted one of my own, they're like $12 Lance: Lance:....Oh....You meant the account on the service... Y/n: Yeah, what did you think I meant? Wait...What did you buy? Lance: Lance:....Netflix...

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12

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thesturniolos · 6 months

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guilty pleasures (part 1 )

m. sturniolo x reader

authors note: this picture is actually sickening, need him too bad 🤞

this is all creds to my bae @iheartchrissturniolo thanks for the idea hun < 3 (part 2 including your idea yet to come)

summary: matt has a bit of a crush on his best friend, he’s fantasising ;)

warnings: smut, swearing !!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

she looked heavenly by the pool today, irresistible to the point where my heart ached. i knew i couldn’t have her, i’ve only been reminding myself everyday for the past 6 years and it’s agonising.

the way the droplets of water fell off her golden skin, the bikini that accentuated her curves, oh so perfectly. and knowing i chose it for her was like the cherry on top of the cake. blue- my favourite colour - and hell she knew it when she bought it, she even told me. “i wonder why you picked this one” i remember her slight giggle after she said it, voice like silk, one that plays in my head at night.

she drags her hand through her hair, shaking it a little to get rid of the water, and boy do i wish it was me doing that. for me to be the one to look after her, to do the small things that weren’t so small to me. her eyes are closed and even though she’s been in the water, her makeup remained flawless - not that she needed it, she was absolutely gorgeous with and without.

she didn’t think this however, always telling me how she wishes she looked like anybody else. if she could only see what i see, just for a second, she’d never think that again. she’s better than any supermodel, the ‘prettiest of girls’ according to society weren’t a touch on her. plus, they didn’t come with her personality- she’s a real life angel and i’ve been blessed with even being in her presence.

i would spend every minute and every hour of my day telling her every little thing i love about her from the colour of her nails to the shape of her lips, i don’t care about the dents in her thighs or the stretch marks on her stomach, she’s perfect.

she’s walking closer to me with an arm outstretched, my eyes landing on the matching tattoo she has with me and i smile. i sometimes forget we had that done, which almost instantly brings me back to reality that she is and always will just be my best friend. i cannot afford to lose someone as special as her which is why i have to push those feelings to the side, as much as we want to be free.

her being so close to me and looking at me with those eyes, dark eyes that could mean so many things, made my cheeks blush the slightest red and i become desperate to hide this. what kind of friend blushes like a crazed guy in love when they look at them? it’s just a look, god.

“you got a towel?” there was that voice again, a voice i wish was in my ear forever. it wasn’t high - pitched nor was it deep, it was just in the middle, soothing. reminds me of the times where she held me whilst i cried, the bestest friend there is. reminds me of when she was so utterly drunk and slurring over her words, what was it again?

╭┈┈┈┈╮

“matt” she prods at my arm, waking me up.

“wassup” she frowns looking at my tired state, moving her hand to push hair out of my eyes.

“i’ve got a secret” i frown now, it’s 3am goddamn.

“what’s that”

“you promise you won’t tell anyone?” those little doe eyes drive me crazy, keep looking at me like that and i’ll have an accident.

“i promise” she leans in closer to my ear, her hot breath on my skin.

“i had a dream about you the other day” now i’ve piped up. i don’t care about the time or the sleep in my eyes, she fucking dreamt about me, i’m wide awake.

“oh yeah? good or bad?”

“depends”

“what’d you mean, depends?” once again, driving me crazy. she just knows how to do it.

“well, it depends how you take it.”

“go on.” i’m begging for this now, i need to know what the fuck happened, it’s killing me.

“well, we were doing something,” she twirls my hair in her hand, not looking me in the eyes yet all i can focus on is her and her words. “something best friends don’t do.”

“like what?”

“fucking.”

╰┈┈┈┈╯

held a chokehold over me. every night when i got in to bed i imagined her sleepy self, squirming about in her sheets to the idea of me pounding into her. suddenly i didn’t feel so bad about the hundreds of wet dreams i’ve had ‘bout her, we’re even.

but it only made me more delusional that we could actually be something. she was drunk and it was a dream, i was being dramatic if i thought it was actually something.

“yeah, it’s just there.” i say, pointing to the floor. she bends down to pick it up and i get the best sight of her boobs, pressed against the fabric of her bikini, pushed together ever so slightly. they looked so smooth, so pretty. something i just couldn’t take my eyes off..

“hello? matt?” she swipes her hand in front of my face and i’m so utterly embarrassed, knowing i’d been fixated on her tits. what an assy thing to do, how do i even begin to explain something like that?

“i- uh- i’m sorry! i wasn’t-“ she smiles at me and reaches out to scruff my hair, once again her boobs being directly in my face. is she doing this on purpose? because i’m about to cum in my pants.

“i take it you just really like your choice of bikini, hm?” she laughs, moving the towel to rest it on her hip as she turns around and struts off towards our house. she fucking knows what she does, not just to me but everyone.

i’ve been ignoring the poking in my pants for a while but it’s more prominent then ever now and i need to do something about it or i’m gonna come undone right here right now. it might be pervy but i quite literally cannot be around her when she’s close to naked, my mind travels to the dirtiest of places and to be honest, i’m careless.

if she’s going to act so calm about riling me up like that, then i’m gonna embrace the way she makes me feel. how she makes my cheeks hot and the wet patch that forms in my boxers when she whispers in my ear or now, shoving her boobs in my face.

praying that my jeans cover my painfully obvious hard-on, i quickly walk into the house, making a bee line for my bedroom, desperate to do something about what was happening in my pants.

“you okay, matt?” shes looking at me with a frown, the towel in her hair now as she begins to dry it, still wearing that flattering bikini that is just about to tip me over the edge.

“mhm, i- um, just need to do something.” i look around to see if my brothers are anywhere to be seen, something to distract me from this conversation, i so desperately need to get to that bedroom.

“oh? why’d you look so flustered?” she says with a smug, little smile.

“no reason. i just- i just need a second.” i go to walk away. as much as i would love to stay and talk, right now that is not what i need.

“need my help?”

tags: @strniohoeee @sturnsbaby @sturniolopepsi @malsturns @mattslolita @mattitties @mattsbratt @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @chrisolivia4l @ilovemattsturn @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @sturniolosstar @freshlovehacker @kirby0strombolli @recklesssturniolo @lovingmattysposts @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @urfavstromboli @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @hoesformatt @justangelheree @klarasmith @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @caitifilms @bluesturniolo333 @mattsturnioloswattpad

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katiexpunk · 1 month

Text

Scarlet Haze - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~6.2K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Series Summary: Life in the QZ was fairly predictable. That was, until Joel Miller showed up on your doorstep covered in blood. Since then, you've helped him more times than you can count. Now it's his turn to return the favor.

Series Warnings: SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. Set in the TLOU universe in the Boston QZ. Buckle the fuck up for a lot of filthy, feral smut. Check chapter warnings for specifics. This series will follow them through current day.

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Blood. Sexual tension. Bloody knuckles/wounded Joel. Flirting. Alcohol. Male masturbation. Voyeurism. Pearl Jam. Drug-seeking behavior. Medical references. Crying. Hallucinations similar to a drug high. Euphoria. Damsel in distress trope. Pet names. Praise kink. Begging. Unprotected P in V. Oral (female receiving). Fingering. Use of daddy. Age gap (make it your own!). No use of Y/N. Reader has no physical descriptions. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Surprise! It's here early (probably the only time you'll be glad something came early). Part 2 as part of my contribution to @morallyinept's Flora and Fauna Challenge. Part 3 coming 5/19.

Part 1 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” ― Stephen Chbosky

Joel Miller is a bad man.

It wasn’t always this way – there was a time when he thought he was good, kind even, a gentleman through and through, just like his momma raised him to be.

But those days are long gone. Nowadays, the things he does are far from decent.

What he’s doing right now tops the list.

He should avoid it. He knows he should.

Whatever this feeling is, it’s entirely alien to him—like a cocktail of a thousand potent drugs coursing through his veins, igniting an instinctive physical response. His heart pounds furiously, and a searing heat prickles his skin. He feels lightheaded, probably from the blood rushing anywhere and everywhere except for his brain.

He tries to reason with himself that he can wait— he should wait. Wait for you to wake up, do your typical doctor business, pull out a magic pill or some bullshit, and you’ll both be well on your way.

He should wait. A good man would wait.

But then you started whimpering.

Fucking whimpering.

It was soft, just a whisper; he almost second-guessed it, but then you said his name clear as day, drawing him closer to the edge of control.

“Joel, please,” you moan, spread out on the dusty sheets, lost in a daydream he wishes he was part of, totally unaware of your actions.

He palms himself through his denim, hips titled forward as he sits on a wood chair that he’s not all too convinced can bear his weight after years of abandonment, but he could give two shits about that right now.

“Yes, oh god, yes, just like that,” you moan again, your hand inching closer to your center, chasing friction of any kind. He wonders if you’re wet right now, how sweet you must taste.

Fuck it.

If he's destined for hell, he might as well make it worth the trip.

He unhooks his belt and yanks down his zipper, forcefully pulling his pants down to bunch around the muscular expanse of his thighs

Heavy cock in hand, he takes a second to admire it. It’s a fat, healthy one with a little curve to the left and a prominent vein running up the side. He’s a blessed man – in this regard, anyway.

He rises to full attention, and his hand rises with it, thick, strong fingers just about meeting his thumb as they curl around him. He savors the first proper stroke, the shift from teasing to relief.

He’s so fucking hard. He’s not sure he’s ever been this hard.

His skin feels like velvet wrapped around steel. Even at the end of the world, hell, even before it, he’s not sure touching himself has ever felt like this.

As the edges of his vision begin to soften and blur, he focuses on you. He empties his mind into thoughts of you and only you – how good you’d feel, your tight cunt wrapped around him, creaming on him as you chant his name like a prayer.

Fuck.

His head falls back to lean against the wall, eyes tightly shut, his hand still working as he conjures up images of you bent over for him as he watches his cock slide in and out of your wet heat.

It feels like his whole system has been turned on, his body flooded with adrenaline, the frantic thud of his pulse in his ears now palpable against his palm, too.

Just then, you blink open your eyes, and the remnants of your daydream evaporate like a mist in the morning sun. For a moment, you’re unsure where you are, the room spinning gently in your haze.

The last thing you remember is being in the flower field with him, and now you’re on a bed that hasn’t seen a warm body in over a decade. How did he?

You drop the thought when you feel the air, thick with a heavy, sweet scent that tugs at the edges of your consciousness. You feel hot, every nerve ending tingling uncomfortably. Breathing feels difficult, each breath deep and labored. It’s as if your lungs are struggling under a heavy weight, a need you can’t quite pinpoint.

Your gaze slowly shifts from the ceiling to the corner of the room, and that's when you spot him.

Sunlight streams through the grime-streaked windows, casting beams that light up the swirling dust in the air. As your eyes adjust, the details come into sharp focus, cutting through the haze in your mind like a knife.

Oh. He’s —

You must still be dreaming; you must. There’s no way this is happening.

Your stomach flutters and flips, enough physical proof that you see what you think you do.

You take a moment to admire him, his cock, the glistening precum that’s gathered at the tip of it, the soft groans coming from his chest. The way his thick neck is angeled back perfectly presents his Adam's apple and the nape of his throat.

You adjust to prop yourself up slightly.

"Joel," you coo, his name dripping from your lips like nectar from a flower.

He pauses at the sound of your voice, and time suspends for a moment. If he weren’t so fucked out, he might think to stop what he’s doing, might even feel embarrassed that he was caught.

But right now, part of him wants you to watch. When he tilts his head up, you’re staring at him with a look he can’t quite place, but holy fuck, you’re beautiful.

Seeing your own lust-filled eyes, knowing you're watching what he’s doing to himself, consumes him.

“See what you do to me,” he groans, holding your stare as he fucks his fist, jaw slack and balls tight.

It’s so intense. He’s intense.

“Wanna see you,” he rasps, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

You work to undo the buttons of your jeans, desperate to touch yourself – dazed and dizzy.

You haven’t even touched him and you’re already cock drunk, tipsy with the need to touch him. You can’t stop it, not even if you tried. It feels like this moment was always meant to happen, and everything in life—the good and the bad — has led up to it.

Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, you stand to walk over to him, but the floor rushes up unexpectedly. As gravity claims you, a different kind of pull—a magnetic force you've felt since the night you met him—lingers in your mind.

You think you hear him call your name as the ceiling swirls into shades of red, patterns like a kaleidoscope painted behind your lids, and you’re living that night again before you can be sure.

++++

Boston QZ, Fall 2022

The bar's dim lights hardly penetrate the thick air and despair that seems to stick to everything inside the QZ. You shove open the heavy metal door and step inside. The noise—a mix of wood chairs scraping against the ground and low conversations—briefly spikes before settling as the door thuds shut behind you.

It's been a long, tough shift at the clinic, leaving you feeling bone tired.

The bar—if you can even call it that—has a worn appeal. As your eyes get used to the dimness, you head straight for the counter.

The bartender, a middle-aged guy with a scar trailing down his cheek like a tear track, gives you a quick nod in greeting. “Hey, Tom,” you greet him with a tired smile. “I’ll have a chardonnay.”

Tom chuckles, wiping down a glass with a rag that has seen better days.

“Doc,” he nods. “Best I can do is beer. Got a fresh batch that’s more hops than rust this time.”

“Sold,” you laugh, settling onto a stool and pushing him one of your ration cards. “Make it a cold one, if you can remember what cold feels like.”

Your eyes drift across the bar as Tom turns to fetch your drink. That’s when you notice him—a rugged man nursing a beer, his presence almost as worn as the leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders.

His knuckles are raw, the skin split, and a dark bruise blooms around his left eye. It’s an impressive shiner that catches your attention more than it probably should.

You lean slightly on the bar, the wood cool under your arms, and a half-smile forms on your lips when you catch his eye. “You really should have someone check that out,” you say, nodding toward his hand, the flirtation in your voice unmistakable.

His eyes assess you momentarily, weighing your words, maybe even your presence here talking to him.

He curls his right hand into a fist, the skin tight and pale over the knuckles. “This?” His voice, rough as gravel, carries a hint of nonchalance. “It’ll heal eventually.” As he speaks, his words stretch out with a slow Southern drawl, wrapped in a weariness you can almost touch.

“Must have been quite the fight,” you remark, accepting the beer Tom slides in front of you. “Or a really stubborn door.”

A trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Something like that.”

“You know,” you continue, sipping the beer and finding it surprisingly not terrible, “I’m pretty good with stitches and less good with doors. If you ever need a hand…”

His dark eyes flick back to you, pausing on your lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You sip your drink, the corners of your lips twitching upward slightly. Turning to face him fully, you let your eyes roam over his features, openly appreciating the chisel of his jaw and the facial hair that covers it. He’s handsome.

He doesn’t ask for your name, but the silence feels like an invitation. Leaning a bit closer, you raise an eyebrow playfully. "And you are?" your voice lilts at the end, lingering on the anticipation.

"Joel Miller," he says, his voice a deep rumble that cuts through the bar noise. His handshake is firm but careful as if he's mindful not to hurt despite the roughness of his hands.

"Joel Miller—I like that," you reply, holding his gaze a little longer than necessary, your hand still clasped in his. You gently turn his hand to inspect the battered knuckles, not having to work hard to imagine the sting you know he feels.

A shout from across the bar catches your attention; your friends are waving you over. You turn towards them, but he continues to look at you. When you turn back to him, he drops your hand quickly, almost like you burned him.

"Well, Joel Miller, I guess I'll see you around," you say with a hint of promise.

He nods, “Maybe so.”

As you walk away, you feel his thoughtful, dark, and hungry eyes still fixed on you.

The intensity of his stare sends a shiver down your spine as you move toward the laughter and warmth of your friends waiting at a table near the back.

You feel the pull of curiosity that makes you want to look back, but you don’t.

++++

Later that week, you’re pulling a late night at the clinic.

"Fuck," you moan, bringing your hands to your temples and rubbing them slightly. You're exhausted. When are you not?

You don't have a clock in the clinic, but you know it's probably close to curfew. Every cell in your body tells you to go home, but you ignore it. At least you have the peeling paint and the constant drip from a leaky faucet to keep you company.

You’re restocking a shelf in the lobby when the front door slams open violently. A man staggers in, his eyes bloodshot, clothes tattered, and reeking of what you don’t even want to know. You straighten up and quickly reach into your coat pocket, your grip finding a scalpel from earlier. Using your thumb, you work to remove the cap and position it between your fingers should you need to use it.

"I need some meds," he growls, slamming his fists down on the reception desk. "The strong stuff, now!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down," you say, trying to keep your voice even despite the adrenaline surge. "I can help, but first, you need to tell me what's wrong."

"Listen here you little bitch, I don’t need advice; I need fucking pills!" he bellows, his voice echoing off the walls. Suddenly, he lunges over the counter, grabbing your arm with a firm grip.

You struggle to pull away, but he’s too strong. You try your scalpel, but he slaps it away. Panic spikes as he twists your arm behind your back and slams you against the counter. Pain shoots through your shoulder, sharp and blinding.

Just then, the door to the clinic bursts open with a force that makes the entire room shake. You barely have time to register the figure rushing in, his movements fast and determined.

And then you see him.

Joel Miller.

His expression is set in a hard line, eyes pinpointing the man pinning you down. Without a word, he grabs the man by the collar and yanks him away from you. The man flails, trying to swing at Joel, but he’s too quick, too angry. He lands a solid punch to the man's jaw, sending him reeling backward into one of the shelves.

"You okay?" he asks, turning to you with concern etched on his face. His hands are still clenched into fists.

Breathing heavily, you nod, rubbing your bruised arm. The pain is sharp, and you know you'll be feeling it tomorrow, but you’re relieved to be free from the man's grasp.

"I think so?" you manage to say, trying to steady your voice as you back away from the counter to put some distance between yourself and the now-groaning figure on the floor.

Joel’s eyes find the man as he slowly picks himself up, giving him a warning glare that promises more if he tries anything again. "Come in here again, and I’ll make sure a broken jaw is the least of your worries," he threatens. Is he always this intense? The man, clutching his jaw and mumbling curses, stumbles out of the clinic.

Once gone, Joel turns back to you, his expression softening. "Let me look at your arm," he says, gently taking it in his hands, his touch careful as he examines the bruising.

“Playing doctor today, are we?" you tease with a smirk.

Joel's chuckle rumbles low and warm, melting some of the tension from your shoulders.

"I'm not, but you could've fooled me," he replies, his touch light as he examines your arm. His eyes hold a soft concern that seems at odds with his typically rugged exterior.

“Didn’t know you were a doctor.”

"Do a lot of women at the bar tell you they’re good at giving stitches?" you quip, watching his reaction.

“Alright, smartass, point taken," he teases, releasing your arm. You gently massage the sore skin.

"How did you know I was in trouble?"

Joel leans against the counter, his brow set as he watches you rub your arm.

"Let's just say I've got good instincts.”

"Instincts, huh?" You say, stepping closer. "I suppose next you’ll say that it was just my luck that you happened to wander by when you did?”

His eyes lock with yours.

"I think you're lucky I came when I did," he agrees, his tone serious now.

"Yeah," you agree, a wave of gratitude washing over you. The clinic is suddenly quiet, and you both look at each other momentarily. Everything suddenly feels heavy.

“Too bad there’s no lottery anymore—I could've used some of that luck earlier,” you joke. Stupid.

Joel shakes his head, eyes still scanning your face, perhaps looking for injuries you hadn't mentioned.

"Really, you should be more careful," he chides. "It’s not safe to be out here alone this close to curfew."

"I usually manage fine," you assert, trying not to let his concern make you feel like you can't handle your job. "Tonight was just... unexpected."

"Doesn't mean it won't happen again. You should think about having someone here with you during late shifts," Joel suggests, his voice low and insistent.

You consider his words, knowing he's right, but it’s also not like people in the QZ are lining up to care for people who aren’t themselves.

Joel seems to read your mind. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he says, stepping back, giving you space. His eyes still hold that fierce protective glint.

"I promise.”

Joel nods once, satisfied. "Good.”

You give him another small smile and think he sees the thank you behind it.

He nods again, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. As he walks towards the door, you watch him go, feeling a mix of emotions—appreciation, relief, and that same magnetic pull from last night.

“Joel?” you call out, halting his steps. “You like whiskey?”

Joel turns, a curious arch lifting his brow as he shifts from his reserved demeanor.

"Yeah, I like whiskey," he replies. "Why, you offering?"

A playful smile dances on your lips.

"Maybe I am," you say, considering for a moment. "How about a thank-you drink? My place isn't far."

For a moment, Joel just looks at you, assessing.

"Lead the way, Doc,” he says, his voice carrying a warmth you haven’t heard before.

++++

You unlock the door to your unit, stepping aside to let him in. "Make yourself comfortable," you say, gesturing vaguely towards the living room. Joel nods and walks through the threshold. As he passes, you notice that he smells slightly sweet and smoky, with a rich, woody undertone.

He takes a seat on the worn couch that’s a carry over from the 80’s, it creaks under his weight. He settles back, his knees spreading wide, and makes himself at home.

Heading into the kitchen, you rummage through the cabinets before finding an old bottle of whiskey. You don’t own any glasses.

You call out to Joel, "I hope you don’t mind sharing with me." You unscrew the cap, take a swig directly from the bottle, and feel the warm burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.

You cough. “It's not great, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

Carrying the bottle back to the living room, you pass it to Joel with a playful wink. "Your turn," you say, watching him take his swig with an approving nod. He takes a moment to assess the bottle; not bad for decade-old Tennessee whiskey.

As he drinks, you walk over to a shelf cluttered with various knickknacks and pull out an old battery-powered CD player. Rifling through the modest stack of CDs you’ve traded more ration cards for than you care to admit, you pull out the one you're after and slide it into the player.

As the first chords of Pearl Jam's "Alive" reverberate through the room, Joel's head swivels, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Holy shit. Pearl Jam?" he says, his voice tinged with surprise.

"You know ‘em?" you respond, settling beside him on the couch.

He looks at you with a you’ve got to be serious look.

“Yeah, darlin’, I know ‘em. Pretty sure I was listening to them before you were even born.”

“Oh please,” you laugh, gently elbowing him in the ribs as you snatch the whiskey bottle back. “I’m not that young.” “Pretty sure I’m old enough to be your daddy,” he looks at you. You’re not sure who moved closer, you or him. You feel the solid warmth of his thigh pressed firmly against yours, sending a spark through you.

You turn and look up at him through your lashes.

“Is that what you want to be?” You feel a little thrill as you watch his pupils dilate, and his jaw tightens.

You take another swig from the bottle, and his eyes linger on your lips and the shine from the amber liquid on them. “My daddy,” you emphasize the word daddy with a suggestive tone. His hands flex on his thighs. You can tell he’s holding back, trying to maintain composure. He blushes a little; you notice.

Your words hang in the air. You decide to go easy on him. For now.

“I’m just fucking with you; that’s not really my thing,” you lie. You take another sip from the bottle, and you feel the alcohol coursing through your veins, your cheeks warming from the combination of the whiskey and his burning gaze. Your muscles feel a little gooey, and your bones feel lighter.

“All yours, cowboy,” you say, passing him the bottle. His left-hand kitten kisses yours as he grabs it, and even though it was just a brief touch, you still feel it afterward. You bring your free hand to his resting on his thigh. His knuckles have started to heal, but scabs still linger.

“You gonna tell me how you got this for real this time?” Your fingers gently explore the rough texture of his skin, tracing the prominent veins that stand out beneath. He clenches his hand into a fist, looking at you with an intensity that suggests you don’t want to know.

"Alright Miller, keep your secrets then," you murmur playfully, leaning in so your side body is pressed against his arm. You gently pluck the bottle from his grasp and set it aside on the table. Sliding onto his lap, you straddle him, your thighs framing his sides.

“Wh – what are you doin’?”

"If you won't tell me, the least you can do is kiss me," you suggest, your fingers weaving through his hair, using it to tilt him up to look at you. His eyes flicker to your lips, and his hand cradles your face as you inch nearer. His thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch wanders, trailing from your neck to your waist, each movement charged with tension.

Suddenly, he shifts, flipping you onto your back with a smooth motion. Your back hits the cushions and a small oof escapes your lungs. Your thighs are still bracketing him. The pressure of his hips against your center makes your insides flutter.

“You’re a needy little thing, arentcha?”

Mhmm, you moan, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer to you. The hardness you feel pressed up on your hips makes you a little desperate.

God, you’re perfect, he thinks. So warm and willing, making it so easy for him.

You’ve been fairly obvious in your flirting with him. He hasn’t been with a woman in a while, but he sure as shit wasn’t born yesterday. A voice in his mind tells him this might be the liquor talking, not you. Or worse, he thinks you might feel like you owe him something for helping you out earlier.

He wants you, but not like this.

"I think you're a little drunk, darlin'," he whispers, his voice low and teasing. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, noses so close they touch.

“So what if I am?” you giggle.

“Kiss me, Miller.” His eyes fall to your lips.

You close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but instead, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I should go," he murmurs, pulling away and standing up. "Get some sleep," he adds, his voice mingling with the music. Before you can reach for him, he's out the door, leaving you wet, tipsy, and confused.

By the time Joel returned to his unit, the ache in his jeans was almost too much to bear.

He fucked his hand twice that night, once to the thought of how you felt on top of him, your hips rocking into his, and the other to the thought of what your lips might feel like pressed against his.

He wanted to kiss you. He wants to kiss you.

And while his cock might have other thoughts on the matter, he’s never been one to take advantage. Joel knows he’s a bad man, but he’s not bad enough to do that to you.

He’s done many hard things, but walking away from you at that moment might be near the top of the list.

++++

You feel his fingers on your forearm, gently tracing up and down on the skin there when you open your eyes. He’s sitting on the bed next to you. His voice, a heavy mix of concern and warmth now, steadies your spinning world. You try and sit up. What the actual fuck is happening? Wasn’t he…just?

"Hey, take it easy," Joel murmurs, guiding you gently back against the pillows.

As you settle, the dizzying spin of the room slows, and you're met with Joel's intense stare. He's studying you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of unease and something deeper, something unspoken.

"You okay?" His voice is a soft murmur, barely rising above the whistle from the broken window across the room.

You nod, but your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest —not just from the disorienting fall, but from the closeness of him. The magnetic pull you've felt since the beginning is more palpable now, impossible to ignore. You blink away the last clouds of your dizziness and focus on him. His shirt clings to him, damp with sweat; his usually neat hair begins to curl at the edges, and there's a tightness in his expression that mirrors the pain you feel.

You’re aching, not in your muscles or bones; no, it’s deeper than that. It's like the pull of a wave threatening to take you under tow.

"Yeah, just,” you sigh. “Joel, I feel so weird," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m so hot,” you say, and admitting it out loud overwhelms you.

“I know, baby, me too,” Joel responds softly, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder,

He’s so sweet and tender. The nickname lingers in your mind and plays on a loop.

Baby. Baby.

Warmth spreads up from your chest, a burning sensation that lodges behind your ribcage, familiar yet overwhelming. Tears start to prick your eyes, and before you can hold them back, they stream down your face.

You're crying now, not just from the discomfort but from everything—the closeness, the concern in his voice, the way he keeps calling you baby, and the deep ache it all stirs within you.

“Stupid fucking flower,” you say through your tears.

“What’s that now?”

“In the field—the flower, the colorful one I showed you. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I remembered reading about it in a book about herbal remedies.”

“And you think this flower has something to do with what’s wrong with us right now?” he questions.

“I don’t remember what it’s called, but I remember reading a warning about it –”

He doesn’t say anything; he just looks at you, patiently waiting for you to finish your thought.

“The flower,” you sniffle. “Well, the sap and pollen of the flower, I should say, have some strange side effects if ingested or put into the bloodstream…”

“Go on, baby.”

There it is again. Baby.

“It causes extreme arousal, light-headedness, and a shit ton of other things I don’t remember.”

“Oh. Well, that explains –”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, already knowing what he wanted to say. You use the back of your hand to wipe away some moisture from your face, but there’s no point; you still feel the tears falling. You close your eyes and try to will the discomfort from your mind.

“It's okay, darlin'," he murmurs, "I’m here. We'll just let it run its course, alright?" His arms envelop you, drawing you tightly against the solid warmth of his chest. Gently, he cradles the curve of your head in his hand, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady against your ear. You open your eyes, and through your wet vision, you look down and see that he’s still hard.

“Joel, I –” his hand floats to the column of your neck, holding you to look at him.

“What do you need, baby?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

Shit. No going back now.

“I can’t do that. We’re not in the right state of mind. I don’t want to take advan–”

“Joel, please,” you say through your tears.

He looks at you like he’s at war with his mind and body; your desperate doe eyes stare back at him.

His cock twitches.

He’s been in pain ever since you hit the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to finish after you passed out again. How could he? He was too worried about you. Every fiber of his being was screaming to cum, but the concern he held for you overrode it all.

“Joel, I’m begging you,” you plead.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yeah—yes. Joel, I need you,” you respond quickly, already moving to drag the unbuttoned jeans off your body. He’s still unmoving, and his body feels like molasses—viscous and sluggish. You’ve rid yourself of your shirt when you command his attention again, “Joel!”

“Fuck, yeah – okay,” he takes off his shirt, and you help him with his buckle. He undoes his jeans once more while you make quick work of removing your bra and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him.

“Lay back, baby, need to taste you.” You do as he says, letting your knees fall to the sides until you’re spread open for him. He comes to his knees on the bed, the mattress groaning under his weight.

“God damn, darlin’ — could cum just from lookin’ at you like this,” he says, stroking his cock. You thought he was big when you saw him in the corner, but seeing him this close, really seeing him, is another story.

He collapses onto his stomach between your legs, his breath warm against your skin. Gently, he presses his lips to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, delivering a playful nip that sends a shiver through you.

“Wanna taste you – you have no idea how bad I want to taste you,” he groans as he breathes in your scent, the tip of his aquiline nose bumps against your clit. You’re so keyed up already, a dripping mess for him, your aching clit just begging for a bit of attention.

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. He clamps his eyes shut and groans. “So fuckin’ sweet, baby.”

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your mound and then gently parts his lips, allowing his tongue to lick through your dripping folds.

“Please,” You cry, with one hand gripping the worn fabric of the bedspread and one tugging on his messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth.

“I’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry, ‘m here,” he whispers before returning his attention to you.

Your vision fills with glittering spots while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, you think, but you can’t be sure; your sense of time is fully warped.

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their death grip on the fabric. You feel your peak approaching. It feels different, like euphoria injected straight into your veins.

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick fingers into your wet heat.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he mumbles against your skin. He picks up his pace and then adds another finger, one your greedy cunt happily accepts. He hooks them slightly so they’re pressing against the spongey spot inside you that you can never seem to reach yourself.

“Come on, baby. Wanna feel you.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and then tension inside you releases all at once, snaps, and hurtles you into another dimension.

As if the cosmos has poured all its beauty into a single moment, the wave of your orgasm breaks—an explosion of white light, pure and cleansing, sweeping away all that came before, cooling the fire raging inside of you.

Joel works you through it, his fingers keeping a steady rhythm as you come down, coated in a gentle rain of shimmering particles, bathed in a serene and growing peace, and you catch your breath.

“I’ve–I’ve never felt anything like that,” you pant, “That was amazing.”

“It was pretty pretty to watch, too,” he tells you, rising between your legs. His hand comes to his cock again, holding it by the base. He’s furiously hard, the tip of him drooling, the color of it a deep, rich shade of violet.

“I need you, baby, so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, voice wrecked.

You spread your legs open a little wider for him, bringing your hands to your knees, spreading your glistening cunt open for him.

“She’s all yours,” you coo, and he’s on you. He arranges himself above you, his forearms taking the brunt of his weight, yet the impressive heft of him presses down, enveloping you in his presence. His broadness looms, an expansive canopy; he eclipses your view, and all that exists in this moment is him. You wrap your fingers around his midsection, and he lines the tip of himself up with your wet and waiting hole.

“You’re mine,” he tells you like it’s a fact, not a statement, as he pushes his hips forward and buries his cock deep inside of you. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. There’s a dull sting, but it quickly dissipates as he pulls out of you slowly and then thrusts forward again. The slow drag of his cock against your walls, the tip of it kissing your cervix, sends you into a frenzy.

“Faster – ah shit, harder –” you moan and he begins to ravage you without mercy, kissing and nipping at the razor edge of your jaw, the tip of your chin. Your moans are muffled against his skin, cries of pleasure that rise in pitch with each thrust forward.

“Mmm, you’re so warm,” he huffs and moans above you as he fucks away at your tight core. “Feels so good, not gonna last long like this. Tight little pussy’s choking me too good.”

The familiar, odd sensation washes over you again, that strange mix of feeling both insubstantial and overwhelmingly heavy. It's as if you're simultaneously a feather, drifting weightlessly, and a boulder, rooted deeply and immovably. This feeling lifts and anchors you, leaving you floating between reality and a dreamlike state.

You focus on the feeling of his thrusts.

Back and forth.

In and out.

Back and forth.

In and out.

You’re drunk off it, off him.

He snakes his hand behind your body to grab your ass for extra leverage, allowing him to slam into you harder, his hips thrusting against yours. The thatch of dark hair at the base of him rubs up against your swollen clit. You feel like you’re getting fucked into near unconsciousness, your eyes heavy and half-lidded.

“Joel,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m so close, oh my god, please.”

Joel’s eyes roll shut as you wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, holding on for dear life as he fucks you like a man possessed.

“That’s it baby, beg for it,” he tells you, and you do.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you cry out, “Daddy, please.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Joel groans as he feels your walls clamp down on him, your orgasm gripping you like a fever.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises.

Tears once again stream from your face, this time from pleasure, as he splits you open even more.

He repositions, bringing your knees to your chest, holding them together with his strong arms as he continues to push in and out of you.

The tension builds, a gathering storm within him. Every nerve seems to tighten, coil, ready to spring. His world narrows and blurs until there’s only you and the tight feel of your pussy around him.

“Gonna come,” he tells you, and his thrusts slow.

His breath catches, and he quickly pulls out of you. Then, the release comes— your legs fall to the sides again, and a spray of his cum lands on you, hot thick ropes of it drooling from his cock.

He’s floored by relief, pleasure radiating through his body. It's like watching the sky split open with light after a storm—vivid, raw, and beautifully clear.

The aftermath is quiet, a soft descent back into himself, marked by a satisfying stillness.

He drops to the bed beside you, and you both stare at the ceiling, breathless, nothing but prey ensnared in a web of desire. He looks at you, his deep brown eyes now soft and satisfied.

“So…Daddy, huh?”

Part 3 - Coming 5/19

A/N Continued: Okay ngl, I am down so bad for these two. If you are, too, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Your feedback and interaction really are so special to me. Tags: @syd-djarin @endlessthxxghts @thereaperisabitch @caramilena @promptly-mercy @alex-does-art-things @swankyorange @ayishahislost @bensonispunk @doblasftcisco @lizlil @pigeonmama @sullyselena @deansimpalagirl @theelectricmind @pedropascalsbbg @laramc-02 @elegantduckturtle @rainbow12346 @senoratess @eff4freddie @auteurdelabre @yxtkiwiyxt @javipispunk @reedrchards @miller-n-morgan @sawymredfox @casa-boiardi @punkshort @pastawench @survivingandenduring @aspecialgreenie @puduvallee @moel-jiller @sheepdogchick3

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #sex pollen #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #jettsflora&faunachallenge

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lokigodofmyheart · 1 month

Text

GOSSIP

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader.

Words: 4.412.

Summary: Y/N and Loki are friends. They say they are best friends, but a lot of gossip go around the palace about them, because of how close they are, how they lay together a lot, share drinks, this kind of things couples would do. But in reality, they never did anything, not even kissed.

Warning/Content: smut, friends to lovers.

It was a quiet afternoon in the golden palace of Asgard. Y/N and Loki were in his room, in his bed, while Loki was laying with his head on her stomach, while she played with his hair.

“How do you not sleep when I play with your hair?”

Loki shrugs slightly as his mind is split between keep reading the book in his hand and talking to her “I don't know. I just don't.”

Y/N chuckles “I sleep so easily when you play with mine.”

"I wish that I could sleep easily like you," Loki sighs, "but I struggle with it. You just have a soothing touch that puts me at ease. I feel safe around you."

“Good to know.” She smiles, still playing with his hair. Loki puts the book down and looks up at her, smiling as well. “What was the book about?”

"This?" Loki moves the book so she can see the cover, it says 'Romeo and Juliet' on it, and has the pictures of the two characters. "It is about two people whose love was not supported by their families. The lovers ended up dying in the end."

“That’s tragic.”

"Yes, it is sad," Loki replies, "But sometimes love can be like a tragedy. Sometimes people are not supportive of love. Sometimes even family are not supportive of each other. But a tragedy has to have a sad ending. And I will not let our story have a sad ending." He suddenly rolls her on top of him so that she are now laying on her stomach on top of him, her head on his chest. Y/N just smiles.

"But enough about Shakespeare," Loki chuckles and kiss the top of her head, "I rather spend this moment with you."

“Hmm, that’s better.” Y/N looks at him and smiles.

"Much better," Loki murmurs, still holding her close to him and running his hand through her hair. "Much, much better."

“Stop that or I’m gonna sleep in no time.” She laughs softly.

"Then I suppose I should definitely keep doing it." Loki's hand comes through her hair again more slowly this time as he chuckles softly.

“Is my company that boring that you prefer me to be asleep?”

"Your company is wonderful," He answers, "But the feeling of your weight resting on top of me... That's another feeling entirely. And it's one I very much like."

Y/N laughs softly, before she finds a more comfortable position with her head on his neck, her breath hitting his skin. Loki shivers slightly, it makes him feel warm inside.

"That feels nice." He squeezes her a bit tighter, burying his nose into her hair, and enjoying the feeling of having Y/N lying on him like this. Her hand once again find his hair to play.

He leans into the touch of her hands on his hair. It is a relaxing sensation. "So, this is how it feels to be the pillow." Loki teases playfully.

That takes a laugh of her. "You’re quite a comfortable pillow, you know?”

"That I am." Loki's lips curve up into a smile, the two of them now more comfortable with each other. His hands travel from her hair to her lower back, pulling her even closer. The two are now almost a tangle of bodies. Loki pulls her so that her head rests in the crook of his neck. One of his arms comes around to holds her firmly but gently to him, just enough pressure to make him feel her body.

They are relaxing in the comfortable silence when suddenly they were disturbing by Thor opening the door of Loki’s room. “Loki, have you…OH, I’m sorry.” And he closed the door as soon as he opened.

Loki sighs, not bothering to break his current position "I should really consider locking the door from now on."

“You should.” Y/N chuckles. “I can already hear the gossip the maids will do: Thor got Loki and Y/N together on bed.”

He chuckles quietly, amused by that. Then he realized how that could be misinterpreted "You know... The more I think about it, the more I realize how that whole gossip thing will look. I mean, we are two single people.... And we're laying on top of each other."

“This will be so misinterpreted...” She agrees with a small laugh.

"Oh definitely." Loki suddenly has an idea."Oh! We should totally add to the gossip."

“What do you mean?” Y/N look confused at him.

"We should give the maids something more to gossip about." Loki grins, a slightly mischievous edge to him. "Let's have you come out of my room a little more... disheveled."

“And how exactly?” She smiles at his mischievous idea.

"Well..." he suddenly pulls her more tightly to him, whispering into her ear , in a sensual way not typical from the two of them "Like how we were just doing things."

A shiver went down her spine “I see...”

"So, are you in?" Loki's breath hitches in his throat. He wants this.

“I am...maybe we should do something with you too, not just me?”

"Like what?" He asks, his breath catching once again.

Y/N thinks for a moment “I don’t know...maybe…a hickey on your neck…? That would help sell our story.”

Loki's body reacts to the suggestion. His breath caught again, his entire body tingling as if his nerves were being tickled. “Y-yes..." Loki whispers, slowly.

“Can I?” She whispers in his ear. He just nods, his eyes closed as his body trembles slightly. His breath is quick and shallow.

Y/N then proceeds to kiss a spot on his neck, before starting to sucking gently but enough to leave a mark. Loki's body reacts again, his legs starting to tense as his breath grows short. The feeling is... more than he thought it would be. His hands move around her, squeezing her tighter to him. His eyes are still closed, but his mouth is agape slightly, his breath coming out in quick gasps. His body trembles slightly, his hips moving slowly as he feels her mouth on his neck.

She finally stops and look at her work “It’s perfect. Really believable.”

Loki's entire body was flushed with heat. He took a deep breath before he answered. "Yes, perfect." His breath catching as he fights against a loud moan. He couldn't deny that this felt good. Extremely good. Maybe a little too good.

“I think it’s your time to help me look “disheveled”, like you said .

"Of course. " his voice raspy. He was still recovering from what she had done to him. "Are you ready for me to return the favor?"

“What do you have in mind?” Y/N was curious.

"The same thing... But to you." Loki grins. "You ready for me to give you a little mark on your neck." Y/N smiles and nods. He takes in a breath, then slowly moves over to her neck. Where she was gentle, he was more eager. But he was still trying to retain some control and not go too far. Her neck was just so soft and smooth and it was driving him crazy. Loki slowly kissed her neck, then slowly started sucking a little bit.

Y/N let out a soft gasp, closing her eyes and gathering all of her selfcontrol to not moan at the feeling of his lips on her neck. Her reaction drives him a little crazy. He starts doing it again, this time with a little more pressure, a little more sucking. It's a little more intense than what she did to him, but she seemed to be enjoying it, which was all that mattered to him. She had tried to hold back, but eventually a low moan escaped her lips.

Loki hears it and it drives him even crazier. He was enjoying this more than he thought he would. He continues the sucking for a few more seconds, then stops. "Do you want me to keep going...?" Loki whispers in her ear, his voice breathless.

“I think it’s good enough…” she says coming back to her senses.

He just nods quietly, a little disappointed "Is it enough to help with the gossip?"

“I don’t know...maybe a few more things?” Y/N was wondering if she had really got back to her senses or not right now.

"Like what?" Loki whispers, still breaths slowly coming out of him.

“Maybe messy hairs…your shirt untucked?” she chuckles.

"That, I think we can do." Loki chuckles as well.

“Come on, sit up.” She smiles, as she was still laying on him. She was blaming his stupid plan right now for her acting this way. But it was all for the "prank", right?

Loki nods and slowly sits up, bringing her up with him as he does, keeping his arms around her. He then gently runs his hands through her hair, making it messy as best as he can. One of his hands grabs her waist and pulls her a little bit closer to him “You ready for the next part?"

Y/N laughs softly and then starts messing with his hair the best she can. Loki chuckles as well . He's still pulling her just a little bit closer to him, enjoying the fact that she is now straddling him. Her legs on his hips...It is a little exciting, something that makes him tingle.

She admires her work for a second, before looking back at his eyes “So now…untuck your shirt?”

Loki nods and does exactly what she tell him. He untucks his shirt, then proceeds to mess it up even more. He plays with the collar, unbuttons it slightly at the top, just enough to add to the look.

“Maybe you should unzip my dress just a little?” She was only doing this to sell the idea...right?

His body tenses up at the suggestion, but he nods. "Okay..." Loki slowly unzips the top of her dress just a few inches, just enough so that her back are exposed a little bit.

“Perfect.” Y/N laughs.

"Anything else?" *Loki asks slowly and shakily. His senses are tingling. She was straddling him just right, his body was tingling in all the right places. This whole plan of his was backfiring on him.

“I don’t know. Any ideas?”

Loki thinks, but all his brain can think of is... Y/Nnd him becoming "disheveled" together. "Well..." He speaks quietly. “There's... one last thing we can do."

Y/N was curious again, but her eyes had a hint of something, almost like desire “What is it?”

Loki hesitates for a moment before he speaks. His breath catches in his throat. But he wants to do this. He can't deny that he wants to go through with this "Close your eyes..."

She bites her lower lip before she let go and closes her eyes like he said. It was enough to make him tingle in all the right places. Loki slowly leans in and kisses her. His hands reach around her and pull her closer to him, her body pressed right up against his.

Y/N couldn’t say she was surprised, because maybe she was expecting something like that. She kissed him back in the same instant.

His heart starts to race as the kiss goes on longer. He was starting to hold back less and less. His arms were wrapped around her tight, pulling her as close to him as he could, his one hand reaching to her lower back. Loki deepens the kiss, he wants to go even further.

She was the first one to act on impulse, pulling his shirt off his body and as soon as it was discarded somewhere in his room, her hands started exporing his chest. Y/N pushes him with her weight so they would be laying back in their previous position, still with her legs straddling him. Y/N broke the kiss but instead of stopping, she went to his neck where she had left a mark previously.

Loki's entire body shivers, just like before, his hands moving to the sides of her hips and moving them up the back of her body, touching her skin under the dress. He moans loudly as she start sucking his neck again.

“Take it off…” Y/N whispers in his ear.

Loki is breathless from the excitement. His eyes wide open, his breath coming quick and shallow. The adrenaline is rushing through his entire body. He takes in a quick breath before he speaks. "Are you sure...?”

She nods. “We’re just making the gossip more believable...”

"We are..." Loki whispers back as his fingers slowly start grabbing at the zipper of her dress. Y/N helped him get off the clothes, leaving her in only her underwear on top of him. Loki can't deny how beautiful she looks... She's his best friend, so why is his body reacting this way to her?

Loki whispers, the excitement making it difficult to talk. "I don't think this is just 'disheveled' anymore..."

“No? Then what is it?” Her voice was matching his exciment.

His breath skips. He can't deny the obvious. He is trying to, his mind telling him not to go further "I think this is... getting a little too real now."

Loki was right, she realized “Yeah, maybe you’re right…” Y/N got off him to lay by his side, making him sighs quietly as she left his arms.

"Maybe... We should stop..."*Loki whispers quietly, his voice breathless. He looks at her. He can't deny that there is a tinge of disappointment in his eyes. He wanted to go a little further... Or... Was he scared because this is... Getting too real...?

“Yeah. You’re right.” she says still laying by his side and looking up at the ceiling.

The prince sighs again. He tries to relax his breath, but his body is still trembling slightly. "Sorry that I pushed this..." Loki says quietly, trying to hide his disappointment. He had built this up in his mind, got himself too excited, and then pulled back when it got too real.

“It’s okay…” she says softly, hiding her own disappointment.

Loki is silent a moment, still trying to settle down his adrenaline rush, his body still trembling. "Are...we okay..." Loki whispers, wanting to check if this whole thing did not impact the relationship between them in any way.

Y/N chuckles and finally look at him with a small smile “We’re fine.”

He gives her the smallest, softest smile in return. "Promise?" *Loki whispers quietly. He still just wants to make sure she'll still see him the same. Because there's nothing he wants less than to lose her.

“I promise.” Another smile.

Loki sighs, a relief washing over him “Good..."

“I think we should get dressed...” Y/N says noticing now her situation.

Loki nods slowly. "Yeah... We probably should."

They both got up from the bed, putting their clothes back on. “Can you help me here?” She turns her back with the ziper open.

"Of course." Loki whispers, reaching to help you zip up your dress.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Loki smiles.

She look at the hickeys she left on his neck and chuckles “Yep, I guess there will be a lot of gossip about that neck of yours.”

“Yeah..." Loki chuckles a bit as well. "We definitely gave them something to talk about..."

“Our plan succeeds then.” Y/N laughs.

Loki chuckles softly as well, relieved and happy that she wasn’t upset, and the whole thing didn't ruin their friendship. "Yeah... I guess it did." *Loki whispers quietly.

And now with the initial excitement over, Loki's head is becoming a little more clear. He's thinking back on what actually happened. He's not sure if her reactions were genuine. Or if she was just playing her part.

“I think I should go now…for the sake of our plan.”

"Yeah... You're right." Loki nods "We got our story... Now we just have to play it right. I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Y/N smiles.

"Good. Then I will see you tomorrow." Loki gives you one last smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” she smiles one last time before she left his room.

Loki watches her leave his room. He still can't believe how things had escalated tonight. A part of him is relieved that it didn't result in anything more. A bigger part of him is disappointed and even confused... Why did he want more? And why did it make him so disappointed? With a sigh, he heads to his bed, trying to clear his head.

The next morning, when Loki arrived for breakfast, Thor was already there. His brother looked at his neck and laughed “What’s that on your neck?”

"Uh...nothing..." Loki says quickly.

“Interesting how Y/N also had marks on her neck this morning…after Thor say he found you two laying together…” Sif smirked.

The plan definitely seemed to be working... Too well perhaps. "We were just laying together while having a conversation. I was not doing anything more than just talking." Loki says quickly, trying to deny that anything more was going on at all.

Sif and Thor laughed at this. “Loki, the only thing people are talking today is how Y/N left your room last night with her hair a mess and hickeys on her neck.” *The warrior says.

"People talk too much..." Loki mutters.

Loki had been focusing on his brother and Sif, completely oblivious to the fact that Y/N was not there yet. He really doesn’t want to think about what everyone else thinks… But he can’t help but start to think about it. This may not have been the best idea after all. Loki sighs and looks over to Thor. "Does it really have to be this big of a deal?" *Loki whispers. The question was rhetorical, he didn't really expect Thor to answer.

“No, brother. Why you two don’t assume you’re together at once? You keep this “we’re friends” thing.” Thor says.

"Because we are just friends." *Loki snaps back. He wasn't going to allow his brother to jump to any conclusions. He was hoping that the plan would result in some gossip and rumors, but he didn't want it to actually go too far.

Sif notices how he keep looking at the entrance. “She’s not coming.”

“She says she had some stuff to do.” Thor replies.

“What kind of stuff?” Loki look at them, confused why Y/N hadn’t showed to breakfast.

“She didn’t elaborated.” Sif answer.

Loki lets out another small sigh. If she really was fine, then he was probably just making a big deal out of nothing. But Loki just couldn’t shake that feeling of nervousness.

“Library.” Thor whispers to him.

He lets out a small sigh as he stands up.*"I'll be right back." Loki speaks up. He gets up from the table and starts walking to the library.

“You’re looking for Y/N, prince Loki?” A woman asked him.

Loki looks over at the woman who had just spoken to him. He gives her a small pause before finally responding. "Yeah... I am. Have you seen her?"

“She went to her chambers just a few minutes ago.”

“Thank you." Loki whispers to the woman, before leaving the library and making his way towards Y/N's room. Loki arrives at Y/N’s room, gently knocks on the door and wait for it to open.

“It’s open.” She says from inside the room.

Loki slowly opens the door and steps inside her room. "Hi..." He whispers with a small smile.

“Hi...” Y/N smiles back.

"You're fine, right?" Loki asks quietly. The question was simple, but he was still making sure that everything was okay.

The girls chuckles “Why wouldn’t I be?”

"You... You didn't come to breakfast..." Loki replies quietly.

“Oh, right.” she chuckles again “I was tired of your brother and Sif teasing. You did a nice work on my neck last night, everyone is talking...Did you think we went too far on our plan?” she looks at him “Everyone is talking how we supposedly spent the night together.”

Loki lets out a breath "Well... I...No, I guess not..."

“Okay” Y/N smiles and walks to him “Want to lay down with me and rest?”

He smiles as he allows her to lead him to her bed. He feels her next to him, and his nerves start to build up a little bit again, like they'd started to last night when he laid down next to her.

She starts playing with his hair like she always do and notices his body more tense “What’s on your mind?”

"Just..." Loki chuckles lightly, feeling her fingers running through his hair as that feeling of nervousness builds up in his stomach “I guess I keep thinking about last night..."

“Why?” She asks genuinely.

"I guess I just can't stop thinking about the way you reacted when I... You know. Kissed your neck..." Loki whispers quietly. The feeling of butterflies in his stomach was growing stronger now.

“Sorry, my neck it’s my weakness…” The girls chuckles.

"I noticed." Loki chuckled as he took out another breath.

“Why did you kissed me?”

"I... I..." *Loki stops, trying to think of an answer that doesn't admit just how much he wanted to do that to her last night "I don't really know..."

“That’s okay.” Y/N’s fingers keeps playing with his hair. “I guess that was my fault. I was the one who suggested about the hickeys…if escalated, it’s my fault.”

"It's not your fault..." Loki whispers. "I wanted to kiss your neck... I wanted to kiss all over your neck and everywhere else..." He sighs."I wanted to do whatever it took to drive you crazy last night..."

The way that she looks at him changed “Do you…still want to?”

Loki's face goes still for a moment as she asks him that. He is taken back by her words and by the look in her eyes. He could feel those feelings... Growing. With his brain going on auto-pilot, but his body reacting on impulse... Loki's mouth moves forward and presses against hers. Y/N kissed him back passionately, and Loki took the oportunity to go on top of her.

His kisses continue to grow in both intensity and desperation. He kisses her harder and harder. His hands squeezing her closer. Their bodies pressed together.

Y/N starts taking off his shirt in autopilot, while Loki’s hands also move to take off her dress, while their kiss intensify. There were a mess of hands and soon they were without their clothes, naked as their bodies pressed against each other.

Loki keeps kissing her while his hands run all over her body. Every touch and movement seem to trigger something new in his body… Making any other thought besides her fade away. His arms wrap around her, and he holds her closer. He pressed his hips against her, making her moans so softly, he almost missed. But hearing that sound fuel his desire, and he continues to press his hips against hers. His hands move from holding her hips and begin exploring her body more thoroughly... Finding their way to her core. Y/N moans into the kiss, as soon as he starts teasing her clit.

Loki takes a breath as he stares back into her eyes for a moment, still teasing her. The look in her eyes, combined with the moans and the sound of her breathing, makes his hands move faster... More urgently. He can't stop himself... He is lost in his desire... As his hands work their magic, she moans louder... Their breathing becomes heavier and shorter until he finally pushes one finger into her and his lips move to her neck.

“Loki...” Y/N moans his name, and he took the opportunity to push a second finger.

Loki moves to her ear now, whispering into it. “You like this, don't you?”

“Yes...”

He whispers into her ear again “I'm gonna make you like it even more.”

Loki's fingers now start to move a bit faster, more urgently. Her moans grow even more intense, her body beginning to tremble from the pleasure. A few more seconds, and she couldn’t hold back anymore when she came in his fingers.

Y/N looks at him panting “I want you...now.”

Loki aligned with her entrance and slowly he pushed inside of her, making they moan at the sensation. He started with a slow pace, but as the desires grow, his pace was getting faster and rougher.

“I’m...close...”

"I know... I know..." Loki whispers. He feels the tension growing even more than before, the sensation only growing with intensity as she reaches the edge. He is also reaching the edge now... His movement speeds up, her sounds driving him to this point. After a little more time, Y/N was hit by her orgasm, clenching around Loki’s cock, making he cum with a low growl. He slowly pulls out and lets out a slow breath. His breaths are shorter and more erratic now. His mind's too... Foggy... To truly process anything right now.

Loki looks back at her, still trying to catch his breath. The smile is still on his face, as he stares at her with a look that could only mean one thing: Satisfaction.

“Loki?” He could notice she was still trying to calm her breath.

“Yeah?”

“This wasn’t a friend thing, was it?” Y/N asks him, laying on her side so she could face him.

Loki’s smile grows wider as her question hits him. His eyes continue to stare back at her. “No… It wasn’t a friend thing…”

"Good.” Y/N chuckles “I think the gossips are right…we do act like a couple sometimes. But maybe it’s because we…like each other more than friends…”

The prince grins as she says this. He seems to confirm what she is saying as well. He chuckles quietly as a response. "I think that's a fair assessment. We do... Like each other more than friends..."

“So now what?”

Loki stays silent for a second as he thinks about what she just said. He keeps an eye on her as she stares back at him. "So, you want us to be more?"

“I do.” She was honest “Do you?”

"Definitely." Loki says without a doubt. It was already obvious to him. They'd already basically been acting like a couple for years now. And after last night... It was obvious what they were to each other.

Y/N smiles at his answer and he continues to smile back at her. He doesn't really have words for this moment right now... Because words don't feel needed.

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