#i have a three day work week this week! but also an evaluation so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calummss · 1 year

Text

Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

1K notes · View notes

smutstevington · 10 months

Text

Resensitized (part 3) | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You're dating your pornstar roommate. Everything is great! Well, except for the jealousy you're trying not to feel. (part one, part two)

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Pornstar!Eddie x fem reader (no use of y/n), pwp and lots of feelings, reader tries being a soft dom (and succeeds), she’s jealous but also kinda into it. mild degradation, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, fem self-gratification, he really do be begging for her, once again Eddie is a simp, playful banter, things get super romantic because that's all I know how to write

A/N: GUYS I FINALLY WROTE IT! So many of you wanted part three, and I really hope it meets expectations. This one is a bit different than the others because reader tries something new. I tried to take all your suggestions into account! Anyway, I think I am going to end this series, but thank you so much to all who read and enjoyed ♥️

------------------------------

It had been one week since you and Eddie decided to start dating, and it was working fine. Actually, it was easier than any of your previous relationships. You were already best friends, and you were already living together, so it’s not like you got tired of each other or were surprised by much. You spent more time together now, setting nights aside for movies and sex and cooking dinner together and having sex and grabbing a drink and then having sex.

Yeah. You had sex a lot. The two of you were kind of crazy for each other, but it wasn’t like your relationship was only about sex, it just happened to be what you were doing a lot because you’d been doing all the other stuff already. You had a lot of sex to catch up on, and you took that seriously.

And when he wasn’t home….

Okay.

Was it fucked up that sometimes when you were alone in your room you watched your roommate’s porn videos to get off?

….Probably.

But did you care? Nope!

You tried not to think about the psychology behind it. It was probably something like a cuckolding thing, or whatever. It didn’t matter who he slept with on camera, because he slept with you off camera, and it was amazing.

But then one day you stumbled across a video of him with a woman who looked remarkably like you, and that was the first time you felt that dreadful sting of jealousy. And then after that, you found out he had made a video with her recently, and that’s when your envy got much worse.

Fuck.

You didn’t want to be jealous. You wanted to be the cool girl who was dating a porn star and didn’t feel weird about it, because you knew going into it that this was his job. You knew he was a porn star when you moved in and became best friends and you definitely knew when he offered to use his porn-star skills to blow your mind. And you knew when you went on a date, and when you had sex again, and when you agreed to keep dating. You knew it the whole time, and you told yourself over and over again that you could date him and not be jealous about how he was fucking other women at work during the day and coming home to you at night, but the truth was -

Okay, this woman looked just like you. That’s fucked up!

But you recognized that this was your issue, and you couldn’t possibly tell him this, because this was his career. He made good money from his work. If you told him you felt weird about it, you knew he’d feel at least a little pressured to re-evaluate his job or quit altogether, and you didn’t want to be that guy. But you also didn’t want to stop dating him, so…

It was time to quietly suffer just a little bit and hope he didn’t notice.

Besides, you’d be sitting at home feeling jealous or whatever while he was at work, and then you’d hear the front door open, and suddenly he’d be climbing on top of you and desperately reaching for any part of you to hold and squeeze and touch, and he was moaning and gasping into your mouth like he’d been suffocating and you were his only source of oxygen, and then it didn’t matter anymore if you were jealous, because you couldn’t think.

The first thing he wanted when he came home from work was you. How could you ever complain?

“Something fucked up happened at work today.”

Um. Not really what you’d wanted to hear when Eddie got home, but okay. It was supposed to be one of your date nights, but then he came home from work looking…forlorn? Distracted? Nervous? You couldn’t tell.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just went straight to his room, and then to the shower. He used showers as therapy, basically. That’s what you’d figured out over the course of your lease thus far. Anyway, one of the perks of dating a porn star was that, when your partner came home looking sad like that, your first thought wasn’t “oh God, he fucked someone else.” Cuz, ya know, duh. That came with the territory. You hadn’t really talked about what cheating would entail, or if your relationship was exclusive, but he wasn’t seeing anyone outside of work, and you weren’t seeing anyone outside of him.

He satisfied you more than enough, so…

There was, of course, the one thing that did worry you. You were still feeling that burn of jealousy in your stomach about that video of him with your look-a-like. You repressed the feeling as much as you could, but it was still there, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his mood was related.

“What happened?” you asked. He shrugged, and you noticed his wet hair was leaving spots on his old t-shirt.

“Well, it was -” he stopped himself, palming the back of his neck. “It was while I was - uhh, you know. With someone else.”

You swallowed. “I figured,” you said.

Okay, it was gonna come to this eventually. He’d never been explicit with you about his work, and that was fine. Obviously you weren’t completely in the dark, thanks to your secret night-time habit, but he never told you about what it was like to be with someone else. It wasn’t like you were offended, it just wasn’t something you needed to know. You weren’t sure how you’d feel if you did know, and now you realized you were about to find out.

“Is it weird for me to tell you about it?” he wondered.

You stared at him, and you were pretty sure your expression would have been funny if you were looking at yourself and not panicking on the inside.

“I’m not sure,” you responded. “Probably. Tell me anyway and let’s find out.”

There was a shared nervous smile between the two of you. You couldn’t wait for the tension to dissipate. You had to know what was making him act like this.

“Okay, so -” he began, pacing the living room floor and avoiding eye contact. In all the time you’d known him, he rarely avoided eye contact. It was actually incredibly intimidating how much he stared deeply into your eyes when he talked to you.

Aaaand incredibly hot when he did it while having sex with you. Anyway.

“I couldn’t get off,” he continued. “And I’ve told you that happens pretty often for me, but this was even worse than usual. Like, I was nowhere close. So, that was frustrating, and then I - I started thinking about the other night. I started thinking about…you.”

He stopped pacing, but his gaze remained on the floor. Your eyes widened.

Oh.

“Did it work?” you asked. Something in your voice must have tipped him off that you weren’t angry - and you weren’t - far from it, actually. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the tension in the room shifted to that of a different kind.

“Like a fucking charm,” he replied.

Oh.

If someone had told you before you met Eddie that this kind of thing would have gotten you hot and bothered, you would have been confused. You still would have been confused as you were feeling it, but you were too turned on to even focus on the confusion.

It was bad enough that you sometimes enjoyed watching him with other women, and now you were wet at the thought of him fucking someone else and having to think about you to enjoy it?

Wait, no. Actually, you were pretty sure that the second part was objectively hot.

“Well, you were right. That is fucked up,” you said. For a moment, his face fell. His eyebrows scrunched together, and concern flooded his expression again. He walked toward you to take your hands in his, bringing them to his lips.

“I know,” he said, kissing down your wrist. “Fuck, I - I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry -”

“No, no,” you interrupted, sliding your hands from his grasp up to either side of his face. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t really understand what I’m feeling, but for whatever reason I’m very, very into this.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nodded, hungry.

“Uh-huh.”

What you had was electric and powerful. It was like you were magnetically drawn to each other. Your lips quickly found his as your hands tangled in his wet hair, pulling it the way you knew he liked. You bit and nipped at him, resenting that you had to be gentle. You didn’t want to be gentle this time. You wanted nothing more than to ruin him.

Because you had ruined him, clearly. You’d ruined all other women for him. You both knew it.

You felt possessed by something so much bigger than the two of you. A deep, instinctual desire - an unstoppable desperation. You walked him backwards until you reached the couch in the living room, then pushed him until he was sitting down. He stared up at you, slack-jawed and panting, his swollen lips pink and shiny, his eyes dark and wide.

You slipped your shirt off over your head and let it fall to the floor. He reached for you, but you shook your head. You wanted to undress for him, this time. Your fingers slowly trailed down your exposed stomach and to the button of your jeans, working them undone. He watched your every methodical, deliberate, tantalizing move, and you could see the shape of his hard dick growing beneath the fabric of his pajama pants. He palmed himself as you slid your jeans down your legs and kicked them off. Next came your bra, and then your underwear.

You were standing fully naked in front of him, which would have been enough to drive him insane, but then you slowly got on your knees.

“Ohhhh, Sweetheart,” he drawled, his breathing getting more and more erratic. “What are you doing to me?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you teased, tugging at his pants until they were past his hips. It took some squirming on his end, followed by giggles between the two of you, but then you were pushing his legs apart to get between them and leaning over to suck him off.

“Fuuuuck me,” he whined as your lips found his tip. His head fell back, his eyelids drooping.

“I will,” you replied, coy. “But I want to try something first.”

The first time you’d hooked up, he’d told you he’d always wanted to try degradation and being a bit more of a sub, but since then you’d only ever fed into the kind of stuff he did at work. He focused a lot on your pleasure - and he always enjoyed himself too, but still. You wanted this time to be different.

You wanted to own him.

“Anything,” he muttered. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

He was taking to being submissive quite well, wasn’t he? And you were doing pretty well at the soft dom thing.

(You may or may not have done some research on the subject)

“I’m the only one that can make you come, right?” you asked as you teased his cock with gentle licks and kisses. He groaned and moaned at your touch, then nodded viciously. “Okay. This time, I don’t want you to come until I say you can. Deal?”

He nodded so fucking fast you worried he would get whiplash. It was kinda cute how red in the face he was. He looked as if he was going to burst.

And then he said something you didn’t expect.

“Am I - am I dreaming?”

You pulled away from him and sat back on your knees, looking up at his face and waiting for him to break and explain the joke, but he didn’t.

“What?”

“Am I - fuck, never mind,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t fucking care if I’m dreaming, just - just don’t stop, baby, please. I - I - don’t stop.”

God. His begging really did something to you. You smiled, and then your smile turned to a smirk as you decided to resume your work. The lust within you took over again, and suddenly you were climbing on top of him, straddling him, grinding against him until his eyes rolled back into his head.

It felt good for you too, of course, but that wasn’t what you were worried about.

Degradation. That was the word he used when talking about what he was interested in. You also knew that sometimes, fantasies didn’t feel the way you thought they would when they actually played out. You were slightly worried about this next part, but figured it was worth a shot -

“All those women and I’m the only one that can get you off,” you said as you continued rocking your hips against his erection. “You’re not even inside me and you’re a fucking mess.”

His mouth was open in a silent scream, his eyes fixed to the ceiling.

“Please fuck me,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Please, please fuck me.”

You’d gotten tested for STI’s the day after you and Eddie agreed to keep dating, and everything came back clean. He was routinely tested as well, so…no need for condoms, really. Especially with you on birth control. The main reason you still sometimes used them was for easier cleanup, but considering how often you two had sex, it was far more convenient to go without and suffer the consequences as they came (pun intended).

You lifted yourself high enough to line him up with your entrance, then slowly sank back down. Immediately, he was melting beneath you, which only made you wetter for him. You slid him into you until he bottomed out, then stilled.

“Remember,” you whispered against his lips. “Don’t come until I say so. I wanna come first.” Immediately, his hand dove between the two of you as his fingers went to find your clit, but you grabbed him by the wrist. “No, I want to do it myself.”

And so, Eddie watched you. He watched as you touched yourself while bouncing up and down in a steady rhythm, progressively getting faster and deeper until you were clenching around him. It took everything in him not to grab you and fuck into you harder and faster. Never in his life had he tried so hard not to come, and that’s why this was all so pleasurable.

When your moans sounded just the way he liked them to and he felt you get warmer and wetter around him, he nearly lost it. He almost spilled into you, but managed to hold off by digging his nails into the meat of his thighs.

For your second orgasm, you let him use his fingers while you rode him, telling him exactly what to do. And after you’d settled, and your mind centered back in your body, you realized you’d put him through enough.

“Okay,” you exhaled. “I got mine.”

Eddie was so completely fucked out. He looked like you probably should have, but you still felt in control. It was a nice contrast to all the other times he’d had you screaming and whimpering his name. He didn’t even react - he seemed to have no idea what to do next.

“Aww,” you said, running your hands through his hair. “Did I fuck the thoughts out of that pretty head of yours? Come on, I know you know what to do next.”

“You want me to -?” he began. His voice was weak and hesitant. “You want me to fu - I mean, now?” Instead of answering, you slid off his lap and got on all fours beside him.

He was fucking you within probably about three seconds.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you into him, thrusting into you over and over again, faster and harder and causing all kinds of noises to echo in the room. The sounds of skin and desire, all culminating into something that sent you spiraling into orbit.

You almost didn’t notice when he spoke again.

“Tell me to come,” he pleaded. “Tell me I can come now.”

You were well past the point of teasing him, so instead you gave in.

“Do it,” you permitted. “Come inside me.”

So, he did. He filled you and continued fucking you until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up so your back was against his chest, then left desperate kisses on your cheek, neck, and shoulder - wherever his lips would reach. You felt his heavy breathing, the rise and fall of his ribs, the warmth of his skin. He wished the feeling would never end - he wished he could spend eternity doing just this, and then he wished he had several other eternities to spend doing nothing with you. He loved every moment. He was so far fucking gone into loving you. Perfect, beautiful, intoxicating, you.

There was a box of tissues on the coffee table, which ended up being a lifesaver in terms of cleanup. Of course, the two of you had to work together to reach over and get the box without toppling over. Then, you both wandered silently to your room, knowing that you’d be far more comfortable cuddling on a bed.

He held you so close to him it almost felt more intimate than sex.

“That was -” he began, his tone calm and warm. “That was the first time I’ve done that.” You giggled, angling your neck to kiss him quickly before returning to lay your head back on his chest.

“Was it as good as you hoped it would be?” you asked.

“I still can’t really think straight, so yeah,” he replied. You laughed again. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

You bit your lip, the anxiety returning just a little bit.

“There’s a lot of great info out there on the internet,” you responded. He chuckled, then kissed the top of your head.

“I know, I’m involved in a lot of it,” he said. And then he said something else, and your heart stopped. “You know, when you said - ‘Did I fuck the thoughts out of that pretty head of yours?’ - I was thinking about how that question was kind of familiar.”

You were so glad your ear was to his chest and it wasn’t the other way around, because he absolutely would have been able to hear your pulse rising.

“It’s a common thing for people to say when they’re doing the degradation thing,” you quickly replied, hoping he’d drop it but knowing he wouldn’t.

“Oh, I know,” he continued. You could hear a smirk in his voice. “I’ve used that line a lot.”

Now your heart was beating so fast, you wondered if he could feel it pounding in your chest somehow. You sat up, noticing the way he was looking at you as if he was saying - Gotcha.

“It wasn’t -” you sputtered. You weren’t sure why you were even attempting to keep this from him anymore. “It’s not like you came up with it, Eddie. It’s - that’s - it wasn’t -”

“Baby,” he said with a light laugh. “I’m just teasing you. But, your reaction is veeeeeery suspicious.”

You were blushing so hard it burned your cheeks. Meanwhile, he was completely amused by the whole situation.

“Okay, so I’ve watched more of your videos!” you confessed, probably too loudly. And then, the words kept flowing before you could stop them. “Sue me! My boyfriend is fucking other women and sometimes I get curious, and sometimes I think it’s hot - although, to be fair, I only focus on you, obviously. Except for when you’re paired with the woman who’s basically my twin, and then I just get - ugh, whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

He was grinning, practically giddy, and it drove you crazy.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, chuffed. You rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, you’re obviously my boyfriend,” you shot back immediately. “Is that seriously all you got from my whole confession?”

“What do you think I am, your priest?” he teased. He put his arm around you to pull you back into him. “Don’t get any ideas, by the way. No way I’d ever do religion roleplay. That’s off limits, even for you.”

You had to admit - the phrase even for you gave you butterflies.

“You’re not into the whole, ‘forgive me, father, for I’ve been a bad bad girl’ kind of thing?” you asked, allowing yourself to tease him back. He chuckled, running his fingers through your hair.

“Ah, so you do watch porn that’s not me,” he replied. You couldn’t help but smile at his joke, but you playfully smacked him on the arm in retaliation.

“Of course I do,” you answered. “Not that kind though, don’t worry.”

“Hey, I don’t kinkshame,” he said, putting his hands in the air. “But that’s one you’d have to go find with someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” you said back. Your words were decisive and stern. “Come on, let’s just be honest. I like you. I want to be with you. And I really try not to get jealous, and I don’t want to be jealous, but sometimes I am. Because I want to be the one for you. Like, that’s why I jumped you today. I know it’s your job, and I don’t want you to change your life for me. But yeah, I get jealous sometimes. And, like, this is less serious, but I wanna be able to bite you and not think about whether or not I’m leaving marks for someone else to see. For your partners or thousands of viewers to see. I just - I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

Eddie’s hands returned to your hair. He sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of disappointment or anger - it was something else.

“You wanna mark me up, huh?” he responded. “Tell me more about that.”

You hated it when he got evasive like this. Lately it had been happening more and more.

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been holding back, you know. I’m a biter.” Eddie’s eyes lit up.

“You’re reeeeeally fucking with my refractory period, baby,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Eddie, focus,” you told him. “This is serious.”

His last wall came down. You could practically see it happen.

“I know,” he said at last. “I know it’s serious, and - and I don’t want to be with anyone else either. Like, I’ve been really struggling with work and thinking about how I can get past it, but I can’t. And then they paired me with someone who - yeah, it’s freaky how much she looks like you, I agree - but I promise it was just weird for me, because she wasn’t you. No one is you. I don’t want to be with aaaaanybody else, honest to God. I just - I love you, okay? I’m in love with you.”

Of all the things he could have said - of all the things you wished for - all the things you hoped he’d say - this was better than all of them. This was - this was everything.

“You’re in love with me?” you echoed, your voice small and quiet.

“Afraid so,” he replied with a slight smile. “Genuinely, it’s terrifying. I’ve never - Sweetheart, you’re it for me. You gotta know that.”

For a minute, you didn’t know how to respond. You wondered how long he’d loved you - how long he’d known that you were what he wanted. You thought about yourself, and how your feelings for him were clearly there, but love? You hadn’t considered being in love with him, and yet the moment he told you he loved you, it was as if all the puzzle pieces came together.

“I love you too,” you told him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You continued cuddling and talking after that as you discussed what you were going to do next. More specifically, what he was going to do next. He’d have to take a pay cut and switch to solo stuff, but he had enough saved up to get by. There was also the option of you joining him for a video, but that was a question for another day.

You had time to think about it. In fact, it was possible you had your whole life.

________________________

@welc0me-t0-hellf1re @nope-thanks @names-were-taken @teary-eyed-egg @mvnsonluver @msgexymunson @micheledawn1975 @mimsthebannished @joantje @mrsjellymunson @oh-my-grace @libbyhermione @agrownupgeekgirl @vintagehellfire @spikedhe4rt @stardustingold @bebe07011 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @tlclick73 @astridflowers @whisteriaremembers @martaboj92 @the-side-blog777 @demeterlindavis @starheartseddie @aysheashea @ima1986 @hideoutside @spicedandicedtea @wheezyhyperfixates @jesssssmaybankk @dulciscreatura @maximus2354 @maxstecc @bmunson86 @strangerfan3691 @alana4610 @callsignraver @roanniom @thecomfortgoth @ali-r3n @alaskasbarfjournal @whothefckissofia @youwantagoodbhloe @eddieslooneymoonie @thirstypastelnacht @ungracefularchimedes @silky-luxe @aurora-austen @ysmmsy @emma77645 @bl4ckt00thgr1n @starryeyedpoet17 @buckymydarlingangel @kellyxo1 @cryingglightningg

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #resensitized

492 notes · View notes

laurashapiro-noreally · 6 months

Text

Looking for something to read?

Oh look, it's another recs post! This time I'm featuring two stories per author. These are writers I always make time for, whose work stands out as unusually hot, clever, funny, or smart -- sometimes all of the above.

I'm gonna start you out strong with two by @werpiper: After Hours takes Aziraphale and Crowley to the baths after their oyster supper, and all sorts of interesting pleasures are there for our angel to sample. Piper's Crowley is one of my favorites: always evaluating the situation, not quite aware of what his own heart is doing but feeling it anyway.

Fitting In is a new story, still a WIP, but I am utterly tantalized by Muriel's first taste of love -- and tea. This is already rich in detail, soft and fragrant, and I can hardly wait for the action to get going in earnest. The pairing seems surprising but when you think about it for ten seconds of course it makes sense. Sex workers help the curious, the awkward, and the inexperienced every day, bless them.

If you enjoy these, check out @werpiper's back catalog -- they have done a ton of ineffables-through-the-ages, and their series Miracles and Heresy is worth many delightful hours of your time.

I love what @copperplatebeech has been doing lately:

He's Not My Friend is a T-rated story that explores Aziraphale's constant refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Crowley, and Crowley's mirror of that, and how things glacially shift over time. It is subtle and yet specific, it will make you ache and smile.

All Of The Above, also T-rated, is a warm and fuzzy alternative to that, a hilarious celebration of true friendship that made me laugh out loud and still got me right in the feels.

@copperplatebeech can do everything, from quiet, gentle, and romantic to devastating plotty AUs to extraordinarily horny established relationship to absolutely ridiculous humor. Do dive in if you haven't already.

Next up, @cumaeansibyl, master of kink:

better living through technology manages to shove everything I want in a dirty story into less than three thousand words: uptight Aziraphale reduced to sodden wreck, Crowley gleefully showing him what he's been missing, character-driven erotics, and exceptionally funny dialogue.

indulgentiam peccatorum nostrorum is somehow all that and more, turning the "I was wrong" dance into a kink (something I can't get enough of, recs welcome). This one is post-Bastille so it is extra-juicy. Mind the tags!

@cumaeansibyl has a gift for established relationship one-shots, which readers of mine will know are my entire jam. They also have a mind-meltingly hot inverse!omens AU that features different variations of angelic/demonic Crowleys and Aziraphales for our ineffables to play with.

A new-to-me author, Calico, has me hanging by a thread with their Ineffable Romans series. If you want to remember that your ineffables aren't human, that they are inordinately clever but very stupid, that the feelings they have for each other are truly beyond what anyone alive has ever felt, Calico may be the writer for you. This stuff is deep. Also hot af.

Sub Rosa reads like a nasty shag at Petronius', but there's so much more going on here. It is Extremely Queer, driven by power dynamics, and Crowley is fully demonic here and absolutely in control...or is he?

The Intemperance of Liber Pater continues on this theme, with dialogue-driven smut that reads less like a seduction than an inevitability. There's another story in this series, unfinished, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Last but not least: two short pieces by @ineffabildaddy. I stumbled on their stories just this week and I absolutely love their approach, which I've not seen done quite this way before.

take me as your wife has a tight first-person perspective as Crowley meets Aziraphale for a meal and imagines (or is it his imagination?) that Aziraphale is suggesting Certain Things about how they might occupy themselves later. Indeed, is he suggesting even more? Something about their relationship? Or is it all in Crowley's head?

Only in Dreams is kind of a companion piece, from Aziraphale's point of view -- though hundreds of years later. This one's set after the events of S2 and although just as romantic as take me as your wife, it also offers an ineffable take on the ol' glory hole concept. Just in case you thought I was getting soft. 😏

@ineffabildaddy has a whole series of poems and ficlets like these and I can't wait to explore them all.

#good omens #fic recs #good omens fic recs #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #rare pair #muriel

167 notes · View notes

im14andivebeen14foramonth · 1 month

Note

Ponyboy Curtis mental hospital stay hc bestie??? (We love all of your hc wanna like talk sometime?)

YESSS I LOVE PONY MENTAL HOSPITAL STAY (also thank youuu and omg yes ofc!!)

pony gets sent to a mental hospital around the winter after dally and johnny died

his concussion, along with his deteriorating mental health, caused him to start having hallucinations and night terrors of dally and johnny

his worsening mental and physical health started to show signs throughout his everyday life, mostly making him quick to anger. the school eventually called social services about it, as pony's anger was presenting itself at school with him getting into constant fights and yelling at teachers, which was very unlike himself. when he revealed that he had seen johnny and dally a few times and had consistent vivid nightmares about them, social services thought he might be going crazy

since it was the 60s, he got sent away to a mental hospital by social services, when in reality he wasn't going crazy like they thought. it was just his head trauma causing a short bout of hallucinations, and then ptsd triggering his nightmares to spike and be about dally and johnny

darry and soda fought tooth and nail to keep him from being sent away, but darry reminded soda and pony that this was a sort of deal between social services and darry; if darry cooperated and let pony spend some time there, and pony was doing better when social services evaluated him at the end of his stay, than they would let darry keep custody. darry didn't see much of another way around it, and though he didn't want to, he let them send pony away for two weeks

this sparked a lot of anger and resentment in pony, who hadn't been getting much sleep lately which automatically caused him to be quick to snap in anger at others. not to mention, pony being away from his brothers only made his nightmares worse. so, when pony first gets to the mental hospital, his first few days are spent lashing out, throwing furniture, and screaming at the workers until his throat goes raw

the first few visits were family only, and since pony was in a bad spot with darry, they never went well. he'd usually be dragged away screaming and kicking, yelling at darry for ruining his life. both darry and soda would walk out of these visits crying, though darry's were silent tears and soda was full on bawling

after a while though, pony realized that he was really missing being back home with his brothers. he may have been upset and struggling, but he also knew he wasn't "crazy" like the doctors said and shouldn't be there. he decided to start being on his best behavior so that social services would think he was getting better

in some ways he was getting better. his time away from his brothers, the gang, and his house made him realize just how much he had been missing out the past few months. it made him want to get out of the house more and go back to doing the things he had stopped doing months ago, like going to the movies and the DX. it also made him realize that if he didn't work on trying to get into a better place mentally, there was no way he'd be able to stay with darry, and these few days without darry and soda were some of the hardest of his life and he didn't want to think about spending any more time without them

he really did try to take in the good things that the doctors were saying and ignored the bad things. he especially started journaling more

the next time he saw darry and soda, he broke down in tears and kept saying how sorry he was for lashing out at them, and he promised them that he was going to get better. he started to bring his journal to the visits so that he could read off the things he was feeling to them, which opened up a big door for communication between the three

darry and soda of course forgave him, and never really blamed him for any of it in the first place. although they were worried about pony, they agreed that the doctors were wrong, and pony shouldn't be in there

after a little while, when the doctors had decided that pony is doing better, they let two-bit and steve come to the visits too. seeing them only makes pony miss being home even more, even if it seemed like they were all walking on eggshells around him

at the end of the two weeks, pony seemed to have made a "full recovery" (he definitely didn't, but pony's always been a good liar) and the doctors deemed him fit to be released. after meeting with social services, they decide that pony has gotten better enough to stay in darry's custody

it wasn't exactly easy when pony came home. pony still had night terrors and spent days at a time without sleeping, leaving him miserable and irritable. the curtis house was really tense and everyone tried to be super calm with pony. he appreciated the effort, but he eventually had to tell them to stop treating him like he was a piece of glass, which led to things going back to mostly normal

safe to say that pony spent a lot more nights with his brothers by his side, which helped lessen his nightmares, and he read off a lot more of his journal (and just his stories in general. darry and soda had really liked hearing the things pony had to say and wanted to hear more of the things he wrote. it became a sort of bonding thing between the three)

#the outsiders #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders book #the outsiders ponyboy #the outsiders darry #the outsiders sodapop #the outsiders johnny #the outsiders dally #the outsiders steve #the outsiders two bit #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #two bit mathews #steve randle #tw mental hospital

97 notes · View notes

kangaracha · 8 months

Text

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 9

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n i send in a job application, you get a new chapter. the world continues to go round. (i also got two skz albums for writing my application, and a bonus chan card for walking up to the counter with $150 worth of skz merch in my arms (she was like damn i wonder what group this girl likes the most what a mystery))

previous | masterlist | next

---

At some point in the last two months, you'd become more used to the presence of eight boys than you'd realised.

The thought only makes the quiet air of the studio all the more oppressive as you sit on the floor, legs stretched out before you as you wait for the livestream to load. You'd spent plenty of time in here alone since joining their group, but not as much as you have in the past week, with the boys gone from the moment they woke up to the late hours of the night on schedules and promotions. It was strange to be here for twelve hours or more and not hear a single voice coming through the door, to wander up to the cafeteria for lunch and not see them, or Minseo, or even the other trainees you'd worked with for so many years, your personal rhythms no longer lining up with the regimen of classes and mealtimes and monthly evaluations, which you know are drawing close without even having to check.

Even your home is lonely, the empty rooms echoing with no voice to respond to you. You haven't had your own room since you left Australia all of six years ago. You've never had your own apartment. You're not sure you know what to do with it anymore.

The livestream erupts in a burst of noise and colourful pixels, clarifying slowly into a picture of a stage. You've missed most of the opening performances, not watching the time as you practised. You've seen them all three times this week already; you'll probably see them all again next week as well. And if you said that watching the rookie groups in the earlier stages of the show didn't make you a little bit jealous, you'd be lying, especially this of all weeks.

(If you said that watching the boys perform God's Menu didn't make you a little bit jealous, you'd be lying too, but you won't allow that thought to cross your mind.)

As if summoned by the thought of them, they flash up on the screen, one at a time, and then as a group as the stage begins; senior idols, playing top billing on a weekly show watched by millions, a position you have no business being in. And yet here you are, sitting in their studio and watching their shows and thinking that it should have been you and you've been cheated again.

A shiver that has nothing to do with the music or the sweat that clings to your skin runs down your spine. Were you just being conceited about this whole debut thing; signing this contract to join a senior group, watching other debut groups like you had the right to be out there with them, occupying this private dance studio as if it is your own space, as if you'd earned the right fair and square to leave the darker, shared spaces of the fourth floor rooms, where all the other trainees ground away at their skills with only hope in their future.

Weren't three missed debuts just three signs that you'd ignored that maybe this wasn't the life promised to you?

Your phone vibrates, a text notification from Minseo covering Felix's face. Your thumb hovers over it, the desire to ask where she is and what she's doing tugging at your breastbone. You let it slide away though; she's been at different schedules all day too, if she is even home yet, and night is drawing on quickly. You're exhausted anyway; you'd probably fall asleep in the first five minutes of a movie, or even midway through a bowl of icecream.

You need to keep practising anyway. That was the key to this debut you'd stolen off of fate; every minute of every day spent in this studio, until you made it or they dropped you. You already know how it feels to look back and see an hour or a day that could have been spent getting better, and you'd hated it; this time, even if you never debuted, no one would say that you didn't try. No one would call you lazy.

(But the wrong look was what they had said, not lazy. Just not pretty enough, just the wrong face in the wrong lineup in front of the wrong man. It was one thing to fail out of merit; it was another to fail because of the way you were born.)

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

226 notes · View notes

friendly-neighborhood-boricua · 2 months

Text

[6] You Get A Visitor in the ER

Summary: You're working overtime when you get a visit from an unexpected someone who makes your shift just a bit less excruciating.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!single mom!reader.

A/N (26/7/2024): this is edited but still kinda short so I may come back to it at some point and add some things ... second to last chapter yay!

Previous Part: James Takes Liam to School Next Part: Kindergarten Graduation Series Masterlist here

About two weeks ago, you woke up in the middle of the night to a hard thump from Liam’s room

You were in his doorway in a flash, of course, because what if he’s dying

And tbh you were kinda close

Turns out he fell out of his bed and the lower right side of his abdomen was hurting really bad

You figured out pretty quick that he probably had appendicitis, which is definitely not ideal

So one rather tense ambulance ride and night in the ER and OR later, you wheeled Liam out of the hospital in a wheelchair so he wouldn't mess up his stitches too much after literally getting an organ removed

You texted James to let him know what happened and that Liam would be staying hope from school for a week to recover

(James had managed to give you his number under the guise of offering to drive Liam to and from school in the future and although you haven't had to ask or even use his number at all, he still has you as one of his pinned contacts)

(Sirius and Remus make fun of him for it)

(Your contact photo is actually a photo of Liam where he's smiling really big while mixing cookie dough for your birthday, which was about three months ago)

As always, James was totally sympathetic and understanding and even dropped by your apartment after school with work for Laim so he wouldn't fall too far behind

You took the week off from work to watch Liam, of course

But you're paying for it now bc your CNO super sucks and isn't understanding at all when it comes to your kid

So now he has you working a fucking double to make up for your missed days

Two 12-hour shifts in a row, 6AM to 6AM

Not fucking fun, dude

(Your CNO is the absolute worst—this is the one that James is pretty sure violates labor laws pretty consistently)

He actually wanted you to do three doubles over the next two weeks but Poppy (not the CNO, but she’s been a nurse at this hospital for time immemorial) told him off, so you only have to do the one today

And at the very least, it’s in the ER

Which isn’t terrible

Definitely not as bad as med-surg

I mean yeah, it can be stressful but it’s nowhere near as bad as medical dramas make it out to be, and it’s pretty rewarding most of the time

It’s a Friday, so Tonks watched Liam in the morning and took him to school, where Ms. Hope picked him up and held onto him for a couple hours until it was time for Ron's sleepover, which she then dropped him off at

So he’s safe and taken care of

And it’s been a pretty quiet night tbh

There was a big car crash during rush hour in the morning but beyond that, nothing super crazy or out of the ordinary

So now you’re on triage duty with Poppy (which just means you and her are hanging out and talking while waiting for something—anything—to happen)

Lily, one of the administrative aides that checks people into the ER, finally pokes her head into the ER at half past ten at night, and it’s rather urgent

Apparently someone’s cut their had pretty badly

You lose a rapid-fire game of rock paper scissors against Poppy, so it’s you that goes to evaluate the patient

But when you enter the ER fast track, you’re really quite surprised

"James?"

To be fair, James is also quite surprised to see you, it's just that he's more smiley and pleased than distressed

He’s hovering near one of the beds and has what seems to be a kitchen towel wrapped around his palm, which you now see has been bleeding quite profusely

You’re at his side embarrassingly quickly and asking him standard questions as he stares at you with a rather glassy look on his face

What happened? Cut my hand while cooking. Can you feel your hand? Um, yeah, it … it hurts pretty bad. Can you tell if it’s still bleeding? I can’t really, no. Do you feel lightheaded at all? Mm, yeah, just … just a bit. Did someone drive you here? Yeah, um, Sirius did … they told him to wait in the lobby.

James is in shock, that much is clear

You ease him to take a seat on the bed and quickly grab a couple forms, which you fill out as you continue asking him questions

Poor boy gets really concerned when you make for the door to the ER proper but ofc you reassure him you’ll be back in a second

You ask Poppy to get Dr. Longbottom before quickly returning to James

And James—Sweet Summer Child James—he's just asking you what you’re doing here so late, if Liam is at Ms. Hope’s, just random questions that aren’t super related to one another

He’s super out of it but you entertain his thoughts and answer whatever questions come to his mind as you ensure that his kitchen towel is applying a decent enough amount of pressure

Alice shows up pretty quickly with a suture tray and asks you to clean James’ cut as she gets ready, which you readily do

You also let her know that James isn’t exactly all there, to which she smiles amusedly and says she can see that lmao

James is kinda confused at first when Alice tries to take away the towel around his hand, but you gently explain what's happening and he understands pretty quick

He looks down at his hand when you finally uncover the cut (it’s long but clean—easy to stitch right up) and poor boy gets a little too light headed at the sight of all the blood that’s covering his hands and the kitchen towel and your latex-gloved hands

James just about falls over onto your shoulder lmaooooo

He doesn’t quite pass out, just like a severe wave of lightheadedness

You quickly encourage him off of your shoulder and you and Alice manage to lay him down on the hospital bed just so he won’t fall off of it and hurt himself if he does decide to pass out

The cut is easy to clean despite how bloody it is, and you round the bed to James’ opposite side as Alice prepares to administer the anesthetic and sew James’ hand up

This entire time, James has just been following your around with his eyes

He’s never gotten to see you work before and it’s really quite interesting to him

And he loves that you’re taking care of him (Such Gentle! Yay!)

Alice asks you to keep James talking and distracted while she sews him up and you happily obliged

It’s kinda hard to keep James talking though because he just keeps asking you questions

By the time Alice is finished with James’ hand, you’ve told him about Liam’s recovery, your shift so far, and how shitty your CNO is for making you work a double

James is much more lucid by the time his stitches are finished which is great because he was sort of starting to worry you

But he’s pretty much all there now :)

He’s also disclosed to you that he cut his hand while trying to take the pit out of an avocado, which you find absolutely hilarious even though you couldn’t really laugh at your own patient

Alice leaves you to wrap James’ hand in protective gauze and give him post-op care instructions

And James is honestly thrilled that your shift has been a quiet one

Because he’s sure that if anyone beyond you two were in the fast track, they would have seen clear as day how he looked at you while you wrapped some soft gauze firmly around his palm

He’s lucky though because you’re tired after working for about sixteen hours with eight still to go, so you don’t really notice the look in his eyes

You give him the normal spiel—wash around the area of the stitches with soap and water not hydrogen peroxide, put vaseline over it, wrap in a non-stick bandage, the works

By the time you’re done, James is just kinda staring at you

You tack on at the end that he can always text you or drop by your apartment to make sure he’s taking care of them correctly

Sirius leaps up from his chair in the lobby when he sees James finally come out of the ER

He was lowkey super worried bc he knows James is the slightest bit squeamish around blood

But now he’s also like super confused bc James is looking at his newly bandaged hand like it had the best compliment ever written on the palm

It’s only on the car ride home that Sirius finally weasels it out of James

Apparently Liam’s mom was working in the ER and she was the one who bandaged up his hand for him after he got stitched up

And apparently, when James was complaining lightly that his palm still hurt right as he was about to leave, she brushed a light kiss against his palm and whispered something to him about how kisses make everything better

Sirius practically has to pick his jaw up off the floor as he and James walked into the latter’s apartment, where Remus had apparently finished their rather bloody attempt at guacamole

And then of course he made James explain what happened to Remus, who just laughs and shakes his head

James’ only regret is that he was too stunned to do anything except wave goodbye as you left

Next Part: Kindergarten Graduation

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x mom!reader #james potter x nurse!reader #kindergarten teacher!james potter #teacher!james potter #mom!reader #single mom!reader #kindergarten teacher!james potter x nurse!single mom!reader

45 notes · View notes

allaboutthemoonlight · 5 months

Text

How to Develop the Habits You Want and Stick to Them ✨

I recently listened to a podcast discussing developing the habits you want and ensure they stick. As someone who’s been recently struggling with consistent habit adherence, I wanted to share some of the insights I gathered and talk about what’s been helping me lately.

The Importance of a Goal vs a System:

In a world where goals are often the big picture, it's crucial to recognize the transformative potential of systems. Scott Adams once said, "If you do something every day, it’s a system. If you're waiting to achieve it someday in the future, it's a goal."

Goals are outcomes, systems are the daily habits that lead to that.

Systems enable longevity and continuity, while goals are only momentary. Changing your behavior and integrating systems into your leds to continual progress and applicable results.

When you have a goal or habit in mind, develop a system around it so you can continuously work towards it.

For example, if your goal was to lose 20 pounds in 3 months, the system would be implementing a daily exercise routine and adopting healthier eating habits.

The system, unlike the goal, can be maintained and adjusted over time, leading to long-term progress and success.

Constantly Ask Yourself These Questions:

What kind of days do I want to live?

This prompts you to reflect on your ideal lifestyle and the type of experiences you want to have on a daily basis. It helps you set intentions for how you want to spend your time and what activities or pursuits bring you fulfillment.

2. How do I want to show up in the world?

This encourages self-awareness and introspection about your values, character, and the impression you want to leave on others. It allows you to consider how you want to behave, interact with others, and contribute to the world around you.

3. Am I living by my values and beliefs?

This gives you the opportunity to evaluate whether your actions align with your core values and beliefs. If they don’t, something needs to change. Really take the time to think about the choices you make and whether they are in accordance with what truly matters to you.

I like to do a weekly review every Sunday where I look back on my week and see what I’ve accomplished, where I could improve, celebrate my wins, etc. Every quarter or so, I’ll ask myself these three questions and reflect on my life.

Mirror Your Environment To Enable The Habits You Want To Develop

Your environment aids in the habits that you currently have or want to acquire. You need to change your environment to either break a bad habit or acquire a n

Make the habits you want to stick obvious enough so that there’s no friction in the transition process.

For example, if you want to start reading more books, you would start by placing a bookshelf in a prominent area of your home or room. This makes the habit of reading more obvious since the books are easily accessible, allowing you to pick one up whenever you have free time.

Surround Yourself With People That Also Take Part In The Habits You Desire

Being around like-minded individuals provides a support system and accountability network.

When you see others consistently practicing the habits you want to have, it can inspire and motivate you to stay committed.

Being part of a community that values the same habits creates an encouraging environment and helps you to solidify these aspiring habits as integral parts of your routine.

——————————————————————————————————

Developing the habits you desire is not just about setting goals but also about creating systems, aligning with your values, and leveraging your environment and social circle. Continue to focus on the systems in your life over goals, asking reflective questions, and surrounding yourself with supportive individuals.

—Luna <3

——————————————————————————————————

#self improvement #self love #growth #productivity #habits #self care #self development #good habits #that girl #itgirl #leveling up #level up #motivation #positive mindset #empowerment

76 notes · View notes

pedroshotwifey · 1 year

Text

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended.

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be.

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person.

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look.

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left.

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth.

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say.

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more.

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point. “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil.

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now.

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion.

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure.

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering.

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway.

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner.

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here.

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member.

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway.

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath.

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything.

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now.

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it.

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body.

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say.

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze.

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room.

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now.

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way.

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking.

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen.

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw.

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin.

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to.

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too. Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone.

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way.

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it.

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole.

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem.

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them.

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening.

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out.

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame.

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you.

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time.

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place.

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own.

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing.

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak.

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you.

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again.

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you.

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer.

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side.

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds.

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth.

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh.

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him.

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right.

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want.

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat.

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises.

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver.

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too.

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down.

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back.

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it.

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you.

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants.

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust.

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst.

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace.

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy.

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust.

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through.

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls.

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it.

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request. If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt.

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace.

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt.

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you.

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure.

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly.

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling.

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking.

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle.

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation.

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack.

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that.

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side.

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek.

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear.

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck.

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter.

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.” If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point?

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer.

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout.

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs.

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm.

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself.

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body.

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back.

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him.

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open.

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut.

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone.

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello.

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit.

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising.

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle.

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

#joel miller #fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #bless this mess #the last of us #tlou #we likey?#exhibition kink #enemies to lovers #dark!joel miller

335 notes · View notes

spicyclover · 1 year

Text

Delilah | part one

Summary: “ Hey there, Delilah I know times are gettin' hard But just believe me, girl Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar We'll have it good We'll have the life we knew we would My word is good “

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

I'm open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

You walk a weary step towards your daughter’s room, opening the door gently. You look inside before you slip into the room's darkness to wake up your daughter.

"Buenos días, cariño." You greet her, stroking her hair slowly. "Tienes que despertar. Tenemos que ir a la escuela." Good morning, baby. You have to wake up, and we have to go to school.

"Mamá, no quiero ir." She says, hiding her face in your pillow. Mommy, I don't want to go.

"It's not negotiable, you chuckle, stroking her hair once last time before opening the curtains.

Delilah growls before putting her duvet on her face, and you laugh at her grumpy head. She looks so much like her father in the morning. You go to the kitchen and make breakfast, feeding your little cat Gato.

Gato is the spitting image of the Puss in Boots trapped in Garfield’s body. You rescued him in a shelter about a year ago. He was Delilah’s birthday present for her fifth birthday. He was already in a deplorable condition, overweight, with a broken leg and an eye problem, but he was the one she wanted. And the truth is, Gato’s really getting better today.

"¡Mamá! Ven a ayudarme." Scream your daughter through the apartment. Mom! Help me.

"What's going on?"

"My brush is stuck." She responds in English.

Since her birth, you have always spoken to her in both languages; yours and his. You don’t want her to lose her roots, even if she never knew him. Talking to her in Spanish kind of brings her closer to him.

The bigger she gets, the more she looks like him. Sometimes when you look her in the eye, you see him, and she inherited his eyes, mouth, hair, and nervous tics.

You walk into the bathroom and watch your daughter slaughter her hair.

"¿Qué hiciste? Dios, eres realmente imposible." You pull on the brush, but a big knot has formed. What did you do? God, you are really impossible.

You take a breath and look at the damage. You evaluate all the possibilities, and you decide to remove the maximum of hair before taking scissors and cutting the stuck strands.

You braid it quickly to hide the damage, and you run to the kitchen realizing all the time you lost in the bathroom. Delilah swallows her breakfast fast, and you send her to brush her teeth while you make her schoolbag.

You dropped her off at school before you ran to your train to work.

Living in Fuengirola is great and way cheaper than in Marbella. So you made a compromise. If you want to live comfortably, you spend forty-five minutes every day of the week on a bus, morning and night. You work in a private primary school there.

You make more than regular teachers but do not live next door. Something It is exhausting to juggle Marbella and Fuengirola. Your daughter and your students, your schedule and hers.

You finish your day at 3:30. When the bell rings, you gather your things and hurry to the bus station, taking the bus home. You spend half an hour correcting homework and getting ahead of your weekly classes, and you can’t wait to find your daughter and hug her.

We must say that since she was born. It’s always been just you two. You two and the rest of the world, or almost. Your next-door neighbour, Paola, looks after Delilah every day after school until you get home. She also brings her to her ballet classes at night while you make dinner and continue your work.

Today is no exception. You come home and drop off your stuff, knowing Delilah is at her dance class. You shower, change into comfortable clothes, and prepare dinner for the three of you. It’s weird when you think about it. You want to spend most of your time with her, but you don’t even have three hours with her every day. Just thinking about makes you have tears in your eyes.

You heard the door open, and in a second, a little girl with brown eyes came running into your arms.

"¡Mamá! ¡Mamá! Hoy tuve un 10 de 10 en la escuela de matemáticas. También hice una nueva amiga, se llama Carla." She’s screaming at you. Showing you the copy, the teacher wrote the perfect note. "And the teacher said we can bring our dads next week for La semana del padre." Her attitude changes a little, and a little sadness appears. "Do you think he will come?" Mom! Mom! I had a 10 out of 10 in school today in mathematics. I also made a new friend, her name is Carla.

Okay, let's put things in perspective. You technically didn’t tell Delilah that her father never wanted her; instead, he is a great pilot who travels the world searching for treasure. You would say to her the truth eventually. But the bigger she gets, the harder it gets to tell the cruel reality that her father never wanted her.

Carlos never wanted to be a father, and when he found out you were pregnant when you were only nineteen, he left you on the spot, leaving you alone in this mess.

You resented him terribly and didn’t want anyone to say his name for quite some time after he left you. So, it became taboo, and his name became a curse in your family. Your father wasn’t happy with you being pregnant this young and without a husband, and he’s been refusing to talk to you ever since.

Your mother is still trying to reconcile you, but your father is too nippy to bend his principles. So, Delilah never got to know her grandparents, either. And you’re not even sure that Carlos' family knows she exists.

When you were pregnant, you’d hesitated for a long time whether to tell Carlos when she was born. You still made the gesture of sending a message on the day of her birth to inform him, but you never got an answer.

Life went on, and you managed to make it. You live in a lovely apartment, small but comfortable, and you no longer depend on endless ends of months.

"I don't think he'll make it, baby." You say sadly, avoiding a look from Paola.

"Oh, Okay." she sights, disappointed, and you felt terrible.

Later that evening, Delilah was sleeping in bed, and Paola was helping you put everything away. You were both very quiet, with neither wanting to break that silence. However, you did see her staring at you all night.

“Stop giving me the side eye.”

“Am not.”

“You are, and you know you are.”

“You should have told her way before. That’s all I am going to say about this.”

You sight before turning your body to hers.

“It’s complicated, and I don’t want her to be broken when she found out that he never wanted her and left to live his dream while I was saving every penny I got to be able to eat something at least once a day. I don’t want her to feel the way I’ve felt for the past seven years.”

Paola doesn’t say anything, but her eyes deviate to a little human behind you.

“Mama,” mumbles Delilah.

You look at her and sigh. “Well, we will have this conversation way sooner than expected.” you think, taking her in your arm and going back to her room to put her back to sleep.

“¿Acaso no me ama?” She asks when you place her in her bed, one’s more. Doesn’t he love me?

“No lo sé, cariño. Es complicado. Tu padre es una persona complicada.” You say, stroking her hair. I don't know, baby. It's complicated. Your dad is a complex person.

“¿He hecho algo malo?” Did I do something wrong?

“You did nothing wrong. We were just too young, and he was too immature to take responsibility. This has nothing to be with you. You are perfect the way you are, and I love you with all my heart. But if you want. I can try and contact him and see if we can meet? ¿Es algo que te interesaría?” Is this something that you would be interested in?

“¡Sí, mamá!”

You kiss her head and close the door getting back to the living room. Paola returned to her apartment, and you sat by the door, wondering what to do.

Let me know if you would like a part two in the comments!

Delilah; six years old. ^^

Inspire by

Hey there, Delilah What's it like in New York city? I'm a thousand miles away But, girl, tonight you look so pretty Yes, you do Time square can't shine as bright as you I swear, it's true

Hey there, Delilah Don't you worry about the distance I'm right there if you get lonely Give this song another listen Close your eyes Listen to my voice, it's my disguise I'm by your side

Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me (2x) What you do to me

Hey there, Delilah I know times are gettin' hard But just believe me, girl Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar We'll have it good We'll have the life we knew we would My word is good

Hey there, Delilah I've got so much left to say If every simple song I wrote to you Would take your breath away I'd write it all Even more in love with me, you'd fall We'd have it all

Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me (2x)

A thousand miles seems pretty far But they've got planes and trains and cars I'd walk to you if I had no other way Our friends would all make fun of us And we'll just laugh along because we know That none of them have felt this way Delilah, I can promise you That by the time we get through The world will never ever be the same And you're to blame

Hey there, Delilah You be good and don't you miss me Two more years and you'll be done with school And I'll be makin' history like I do You'll know it's all because of you We can do whatever we want to Hey there, Delilah; here's to you, This one’s for you

Oh, it's what you do to me Oh, it's what you do to me (2x) What you do to me

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 #smut

269 notes · View notes

nateconnolly · 9 months

Text

Hozier Reading List of Free Texts You Can Finish in Less Than A Week

Another Hozier reading list is floating around the Internet, and it’s very thorough. Huge respect to @notmysophie for putting that together, they put in a lot of effort and research and it really shows. This is an alternative reading list for people who are too busy or tired to read all the entries on a complete list of Hozier’s literary influences. This list is incomplete—even after finishing it, there will be some very prominent literary references in Hozier’s music that might go over your head. But this will definitely help you appreciate the depth of thought in his songs, and if you read just five pages a night, you’ll be able to finish this reading list in less than one week.

ONE: ICARUS

Hozier puts the myth of Icarus to song in I, Carrion. You could very easily argue that Sunlight is also a response to Icarus. Many classical writers have told or mentioned his story, but I’ll let my own personal tastes shape this list, and recommend Ovid’s Metamorphoses. He tells the story of Icarus in Chapter 8 Lines 183–235. If you can afford it, I love the Charles Martin translation. You could consult the free Brookes More translation, or the one by A. S. Kline. Remember, you don't have to read the whole chapter--just find the part named "Daedalus and Icarus"

TWO: DOOMSDAY CLOCK

The title track Wasteland, Baby! is such a gentle love ballad, I almost have trouble remembering it’s about the apocalypse. Wasteland, Baby! finds hope and love in the face of annihilation. Hozier wrote this song as a direct response to the Doomsday Clock moving two minutes in 2018, one year before the album was released.

THREE: GENESIS 1-3

I also recommend reading Genesis Chapters 1-3. You’re probably familiar with the plot, but I think From Eden is such an ingenious twist on the familiar story that you’ll appreciate it even more after consulting the original. Hozier takes the symbols of Genesis 1-3 and uses them to make his own radically different point. The stories of Eden also come up in Be.

My favorite translation is by Robert Alter, but it’s currently not free online, so you might want to check out the Sefaria translation or the New King James Version (NKJV), both of which manage to capture the beauty of Genesis without becoming difficult for the average English reader. The King James Version (KJV) is also roughly the same level of difficulty as a Shakespeare play. I definitely think the KJV is beautiful, but at the end of a long hard day, you might be better off with the Sefaria, the NKJV, the NIV, or the NRSV. You can Google “Genesis 1” followed by any of those names/abbreviations, and you’ll find it right away.

FOUR: A MODEST PROPOSAL

Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal, written in 1729, might be the most gutting satire in history. UCLA students put together a very thorough explanation of the economic suffering and the proposed “solutions” that inspired Swift. References to A Modest Proposal form the skeleton of Hozier’s Eat Your Young.

FIVE: SEAMUS HEANEY

Before learning about Seamus Heaney, you’ll need some background information on the Troubles. I recommend this National Geographic article. I also recommend looking through these Chris Steele Perkins photographs of life during the Troubles.

During the Troubles, Heaney wrote a series of poems about bog bodies. His poetry directly inspired the corpse imagery in Work Song, Like Real People Do, and In a Week.

Disclaimer: I cannot read Hebrew or Latin. I am evaluating these translations solely by 1) how difficult they are to read and 2) how beautiful they sound. I cannot independently review them for accuracy. Just know that all the translations I’ve listed are widely respected among academics and/or religious leaders.

Anyways if you liked reading this go check out my Substack where I originally posted it.

#hozier #reading lists #original post

94 notes · View notes

trash-king18 · 1 year

Text

M pt. 3

notes: no smut in these next few ones, there’s a build up loves but i promise more will come

cw: drinking, being drunk, overprotective miguel, soft miguel, arguing as always

————

it had been a few weeks since you’d talked to him. he was away on mission after mission. and he had to use an emergency injection on one so he didn’t need an infusion. the shots were highly concentrated and mainly to help him come down off of kill highs on high stakes missions. the more concentrated solution usually stayed in his system for up to month. they also caused some nasty side effects you were still trying to work out.

you only knew he had used one from Lyla, since Miguel evidently refused to allow himself a single second of free time. He hadn’t even stepped foot in this dimension in days. Even though he knew he was supposed to let you do an evaluation and monitor symptoms after the shots.

Peter B, Spider woman and Hobie had returned from their last mission and had all elected to go out for a drink, the other kids were there too but they were all underage. As much as they complained, you never let them come with. “go out” was sort of a loose term here there wasn’t a bar in HQ the only alcohol was whatever spiders smuggled in from other earths. But occasionally you guys liked to pop over to the closest universe and play music loud and have a couple drinks, play pool. just pretend to be normal. Spider woman was designated portal operator, of course, with a baby on the way.

But this time you had more on your mind than normal. The anniversary of the incident was coming up and the situation with Miguel was increasingly frustrating. So this time, you may have gotten a bit drunker than normal. Hobie had left early to go help the other kids with babysitting Mayday. A few hours later when the three of you went back to HQ, they had to essentially carry you. You were giddy and off balance so you didn’t notice why they had stopped walking. a voice booms from up ahead.

“you three, my office. now.”

shit

Peter helped sit you down in a chair once you got there, and you slumped over.

“WHAT were you thinking”

Spider woman speaks first “alright o’hara you can scold the others like children if you want but we’re adults making adult decisions so talk to us as such”

Peter props himself on her shoulder for support and offers up a slurred “yea”

“If you want to get drunk that’s your prerogative, but i expect you do that in your own universe when you are ~off~ duty”

Peter “cmon man you’re no fun”

“you— no nothing from you”

all that gains him is a raspberry blown in his face.

you’re still slumped over in your chair just listening to them argue.

He walks up to Spider Woman

“now him? i expect this from him”

“hey man”

they both turn to him in unison “shut up peter”

“but you?”

“we’ve done this plenty of times before and you’ve never seemed to have a problem”

“but never with her.”

“she comes all the time”

“that’s not the point”

“so what is”

“so? you let her get drunk. you took her to an unknown universe, and let her get drunk in an un secured environment. she’s not like us, she could’ve gotten hurt! or worse!”

“she’s an adult, she can handle herself”

“not when she’s like this”

“we were with her”

“you’re pregnant and he’s..” he looks at peter before pinching the bridge of his nose before turning away

“that’s never stopped me from handling anything before.”

“but it was a risk you shouldn’t have taken, now get out and take ~him~ with you.”

“what about her”

“i’ll take care of it. out”

she scowls at him but just turns muttering curses under her breath. “cmon parker let’s get you home to mj and may”

“mayday!” is all you hear before she pulls him out the door.

now it’s just you and Miguel in his office. he looks up at the ceiling and says something in spanish before turning back to you.

he approaches your chair

“y/n.. y/n hey are you alright”

“now you care?” you slur as you swat his hand from your face

he mutters

siempre un placer

always a pleasure

before you can protest he picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. gently though, so he doesn’t risk you getting sick just in case.

you protest, throwing curses at him in spanish. there’s few spider people left but the ones that are still milling about turn to watch this scene. he scowls at them and they immediately turn back to what they were doing. you curse and try to squirm your way out of his arms the whole way back to your apartment. it’s a code lock, like most rooms in that universe, but when he asks you for it you refuse. so he calls lyla up and has her give it to him. he opens the door and sets you down gingerly on the couch.

you just lay back and groan trying to stop your head from spinning. being thrown over his shoulder didn’t necessarily help the dizziness. he walks away and you can hear him moving around. normally you’d yell at him for invading your space but you were too tired and too drunk. he was gone for a while and you called out for him but there was no answer. you tried to get up and stumbled over your own feet but before you could fall you felt a strong arm brace you.

“can’t leave you alone for a minute”

“you left for three weeks just fine.”

it was a low blow, but you were drunk and cranky and you didn’t care. he didn’t say anything just lead you towards the bathroom.

“i’m not sick it’s fine i just want to go to—“

but you’re cut short as he opens the door and you see he’s drawn a bath.

“can you uhm.. do you need help with..”

“i can undress myself o’hara just get out”

he frowns at you, he almost pouts, it’s cute

but you’re mad at him.

you climb in and sink into the tub and audibly moan at how good the warm water feels. you lay your head on the side and drink the water bottle he had put in there for you and try to sober up.

you must have fallen asleep because when you open your eyes you feel better and the water is barely hot. you can hear clambering sounds outside the bathroom coming from the kitchen.

you pull yourself out of the tub, you’re still a little unsteady on your feet but it’s much better than before. you open the door to find him in your kitchen cooking something that smells absolutely amazing. your stomach growls but you don’t say anything. he glances over but looks away when he sees you in your robe.

“there’s clothes on your bed”

“oh sure just let yourself into my room, and root through my drawers. i can pick out my own clothes”

he ignores you and just keeps cooking. you fully intend to ignore the clothes he laid out but when you open your door you see that he pulled out your spider man hoodie. you curse silently as you throw it on.

you come back out of the room and when he sees you wearing it he has a little victorious smirk on his face.

you grumble something about him being an insufferable prick but that’s soon forgotten when he places a plate of tacos in front of you.

you just look at him.

“i didn’t even have tortillas how-“

“i made them”

“of course you did”

“eat, you need food”

“i know how to handle being drunk o’hara”

he just shakes his head at you

“just eat will you?”

you don’t want to just to spite him.. but they look so good and you’re so hungry so you do.

and he was right, you feel 10 times better after.

you sit drinking more water as he cleans the dishes

“why are you doing this”

“doing what”

“this.. everything, taking care of me”

“you’re my employee, it’s my responsibility as your boss-“

“oh cut the crap as my boss you give me a stern talking to and tell me to take a day off. not whatever this is”

“then it’s a favor in return for all the work you’ve done”

“that’s what you pay me for”

“what would you like me to say”

“the truth” you say slightly mocking him from that night

“ay eres tan— look i’m just trying to look out for you can i not do that”

you are so—

“if you can’t be honest about it? no.”

you get up

“i’m going to bed, lock the door on your way out”

“no thank you?”

“whatever, thank you, good night.”

you go into your room and shut the door behind you. you go to grab your heating pad from the top of the book shelf but you’re short.. and still drunk and you stumble and cause a few things to tumble from the shelf and you to fall over.

“damn it”

“y/n? estas bien?

you good,you okay

“fine just dropped something i told you to leave”

you don’t hear anything else so you assume he left until you hear your bedroom door click open slightly.

“y/n?”

he sees you on the floor and pushes the door open and comes to your side. but you push him away and get up on your own

“i’m. fine.”

“you fell.”

“really i hadn’t noticed”

you turn around and start to walk to the bed but he steps after you capturing the front of your waist from behind with his hand.

you don’t deny that his touch lights your skin on fire but you’re pissed at him. you know he’s emotionally stunted but that doesn’t mean he gets to not talk to you for weeks after what happened.

you turn around quickly, his hand now on your back, you don’t move it

“hell no. you don’t get to come in here playing my white knight after you ignored me for weeks AND ignored my medical advice. something could have gone wrong with the injection and i would have no way of knowing. you could have compromised your health and the team. now i can handle whatever commitment issues you have because i don’t expect anything from you but i do at least feel i am owed an explanation and at the very least enough professional respect to follow my directions when it comes to your health and safety.”

he just stares down at you dumbfounded, before a look of guilt washes over his face. his shoulders slump slightly and he doesn’t even try to argue.

“really? you’re not going to say anything?”

you push his hand off of you and turn your back to him again.

he whispers softly

“cariño..”

“no. no. do not.”

“cariño please dejame explicar”

let me explain

“stop calling me that”

“why”

“because that word is supposed to mean something, i don’t want to hear it from you when you’re not capable of doing or even feeling the things that come with that word”

“i-“

you sigh feeling deflated as the anger drains from your body you face him again

“just go o’hara, please”

he’s genuinely pouting now, he looks sorry and part of you wants to give him a chance to prove you wrong. but you can’t risk it.

“y/n-“

“~o’hara~”

he sighs

“i’m sorry.. why don’t you uhm.. take the day off tomorrow, curtesy of your boss or at least come in late”

you don’t answer

“just.. see how you feel in the morning yeah?”

“yeah fine i’ll see”

he leaves without another word and you collapse into your bed yet despite how tired you are you don’t fall asleep for a while.

172 notes · View notes

afreakingdork · 29 days

Text

Soft Spot - Chapter 4

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie's always working on something like in this week’s chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

“Okay.”

You looked over from where you were adjusting the collar of your shirt.

“Technically your cycle started six days ago, but marking today as the first cleared from your period.” Donnie spoke with a litany of screens about him.

“It was a long one…” You ruminated. “I hate when it’s just bloody discharge those last few days, like just empty out already.”

Donnie nodded and paced with his circle of screens moving fluidly along.

You noticed a few purple Tetris blocks mixed in amongst the technology and walked closer to get a look at them.

“With your permission I’ve taken an average of your cycles to work off of.” Donnie paced away from you without noticing.

You gave chase.

“As you have cleared, I’ve been examining you daily through the entirety of approximately your last three cycles. That paired with menstrual data that was passively collected, I can accurately map out our schedule.”

You got close to one floating purple block, but Donnie neared a wall and, like a Roomba, rotated away to go in another direction.

“We then take into account your clinical OBGYN visits. Your gametes are considered in a good health range. Mine are in a similar state per my personal evaluation. It is only combining our genetics that interferes now. Consider we are tethered to probability, following your ovulation gives us the best chances of conceiving.”

You watched his path and waited for what direction he would bounce towards next so you could intercept.

“My sperm appears to have a similar lifespan to that of a humans’. That’s a three to five day window in which they can survive in your reproductive system. To best maximize our chances, we should keep you filled just prior to and during your ovulation. Hence the necessity of your menstrual schedule.”

He trended towards the bed and you frowned because that would send him right back out into the bedroom proper.

“Now, we could use the plug, but that was meant as a sexual device. There is no need to keep you full of seminal fluid which only acts as transport.”

You saw mental images of Pong play out and realized he would soon be heading straight back towards you.

“A more useful and adjacent device would be a conception cap, but I wonder about its necessity as my sperm are tenacious…”

You adjusted your stance and waited.

“We can reconsider going forward if our current methods don't prove fruitful.” He made the final pivot in your direction. “For now, we will begin with this schedule.”

Before he reached you a calendar appeared in your face.

It marred your vision and kept you from seeing those strange fragments.

You gave a small sigh.

“Something wrong?” He swiped your screen to the side so he could better see you. “I debated a separate calendar from our usual, but it made more sense to combine them. Why waste time going out to dinner when we could put our hours to better use filling you with my seed?”

Your stomach flipped and you almost forgot about your other quest. “T-that’s not…”

He waited.

You shook your head and further moved the screen to step into his space.

Holograms broke up around you and you reached out toward the floating oddities.

“What are these?”

Donnie’s arm lowered and, with it, his screens collapsed. “I have been pushing the limits of my ninpo.”

“This is your ninpo?” You tapped the small block and it was indeed solid.

“Yes. My mysticism forms via construction. It is what I understand. However, it is also a manifestation. I have reason to believe that I can integrate it into my technology.”

“You want that?” You cupped your palms under it as if to hold the pieces. “Your tech is amazing. Would the ninpo make it better?”

“My screens now are hologram projections. They come from a knowable source. Though they are expertly encrypted, there is still a chance they could be hacked. Mystic technology, in theory, has no system to stem from. It is being projected from my very being. A completely uncrackable network!”

You sought Donnie’s eyes with growing amazement. “Oh… When you put it like that…”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I can replace everything with complete safety.”

Within your palm, you watched the pixels shift ever so slightly.

“However, data is intangible. While you say you build a system, you are instead writing the basis for it. I can visualize the code, but not its weight. There is a current disconnect between such so I have a simple form of a router up for the time being. I am feeding the connection from my tech gauntlet through my ninpo before it reaches the usual old screens. I am hoping it will help inspire said information to display as if it were a computer and I can then cut out the middle man.”

“Your gauntlet…” You let the ninpo go and moved to touch the device on his wrist.

“I have no plans to stop wearing or using it. My ninpo requires focus and tapping energy of which I have little stamina for. It is another facet of the router manifestation. Raphael described mystic arts as any other muscle to be trained. Thus I try to keep some form of ninpo up when I can and for as long as I am able.”

“Right… The tech’ll be a backup if you’re ever out of commission.”

“I suppose…” Donnie had an interested edge to him.

You fluttered your lashes as you waited for him to elaborate.

He churred into your space, but didn’t make contact. “It’s mysticism. Its rules are infuriating. Who’s to say I am limited in that way? I aim to create lasting constructions.”

“Donatello, my love, always pushing boundaries.” You spoke wistfully.

He lavished in the praise with closed lids before he straightened his posture.

“Speaking of lasting constructions…”

He eyed you and brought the screens back up.

“Let’s say I didn’t hear anything after you mentioned my period being over… How would you feel about repeating everything…?” You grinned.

His patience for you didn’t seem to have a limit though he did have minor scorn as he started his explanation over.

You were giddy as you stood outside of your own front door. Adjusting your clothes for about the third time, you debated your entry. You were spoiled for choice, but wanted to make this occasion special. Per Donnie’s planning, today marked the window just before your ovulation. It was the crossroads section in which his sperm would stay alive within you and be ready to inseminate the moment it became possible.

You had both also agreed to stave off sex until today. It was a paltry three day window and you had joked about Donnie saving up. As he was these days, he had bitter corrections for any perpetuated mythos. He was a regular sex ed teacher and explained that while it was possible that certain abstinence could lead to increased sperm counts, the ejaculate would contain older, less agile emissions. It was under his scrutiny that you agreed to only wait to enhance this moment.

A giddy countdown now had you shaking with the thrill and your entry.

Should you come in sultry and swing your belongings out of the way while announcing yourself?

Would Donnie be waiting to sweep you off your feet?

Would you not make it to the bedroom?

Would there be a line of candles and flower petals guiding your way?

Running through every scenario, you abandoned them all in favor of the door knob. It turned for you and you pushed against the wood. It revealed your apartment and you didn’t immediately notice anything had changed. It looked like your usual home and your lips parted to announce your presence.

Before you could speak, your husband stepped out so he was across from your entry.

He was the picture of dichotomy.

From his posture and squared shoulders, he was ready.

From his stance, he could not be knocked down.

From where his hands lazily flopped back to his sides, it said he’d been wringing them.

From the pinched lines of his face and the faded look to his pupil, he was tightly wound with nerves.

All of him read an equal amount of excited and nervous.

You forgot all about some fancy entrance and moved to your mate.

He accepted you as your bag fell to the ground. His willingness to give himself over read as an emotional scar and you swept over his shirt. It was something plain he’d probably been in all day and, upon finding nothing of note, you coasted up to his cheek. His head tipped into your palm and you felt your affection swallow you whole. “Hello, sweet. You hanging in there?”

“I should have asked you to take today off…” He spoke with sorrow.

“We’re saving that for ovulation day.” You reminded him.

“I know…” His hands trended beneath yours. “That’s why I didn’t.”

You nodded and curled your fingers to pull him down.

He resisted at first, his eyes darting to commit you to memory before he lowered.

He came with a winding and you met him for a kiss.

It struck as mellow in comparison to everything you had seen. He seemed to smile at your confusion and pressed into you to make his intention known. What came then was tenderness, but those nerves still slipped beneath it. You wanted to ask why, but the glowing embers against his lips spoke of how deep his desire was. You imagined maybe he had a fear of how deep his carnal desires could go. He was finally exercising his top kink in its truest form. It seemed obvious that he'd be afraid he might consume you.

It reminded you of an old line from your first date about a bear. It struck you how you had long become equally as voracious as him and you channeled that ferocity. The surge of both your body and emotion knocked him back a step. Drunk off the power to ruffle the master, you pursued him as much as he would allow. He soon got his feet stabilized which meant you were a tiny powerhouse against the pylon of his body. His form held steady, allowing you whatever wanton destruction you craved that wasn’t his person.

It came in the form of his clothes which you twisted up and pulled at. He bent for you, coming down enough so you could yank his top off and knocked his glasses in the process. He chuckled at your need, but gave no recompense. It left you as the one-sided onslaught and you pantsed him in retaliation.

When you came up from shoving his waistband down, he only had an arched brow that sarcastically challenged your childish move.

You tittered at the sight, playing it off. “Here? Couch? Bed…?”

He looked over each spot as if he had all the time in the world.

His bond barely concealed how much his emotion begged to differ.

You put out a sort of sigh and trended to his right.

“I’ve been bombarded with info lately…” You mourned and slid a forlorn hand across his wraps. “Intro to baby making.”

He watched you circle him.

You made sure to keep a teasing digit on him at all times. “A long winded separation ig facts and old wives tales…”

You appeared on his other side and he continued to track you.

“No sex position increases odds, but deep penetration is good. Whatever gets the sperm closest to the cervix…” You stopped at his front and sighed again.

You saw his fingers twitch as he withheld himself.

“Hard to push you into missionary if you aren’t going to help…” You kept your eyes to his plastron and followed scute lines with your fingertips.

You felt his head move as he tried to view your path.

You caught him with his neck bent forward as you snapped your attention up. “You really want to finally knock me up with me on top?”

You watched his pupils adjust to the prospect.

There was the language.

You told him that he was going to participate regardless.

There was the insinuation.

As it had all day, today was the day it was finally teetering on dangerous to fuck.

There was the challenge.

Was he going to be passive?

In one fluid motion, he dropped his center of gravity.

Excitement exploded in your belly and his elbows snapped akimbo. They led as his hands slid up into your shirt in a perfect slide. Smooth prints teased your spine and had you arching as he got to your bra. It took a single trace to the clasp and he barely had to flick to undo it. It was then, with a lift, that your entire upper ensemble was headed upward. You scrambled to lift your arms and just barely saved your chin from catching the fabric.

He hovered over you like a dance and your spine wilted dangerously from how much real estate he commanded. He beamed you a million watt smile before you heard the fabric plop onto the floor. The textures struck you and his arms came down to press into the curve of your back. He kept you safely dipped like a dancer there with one hand while the other danced around your front. It felt over your belly before a single digit found interest in your fly.

It worked expertly with a twist and flick until he was able to undo your trousers. They slacked open in the fold and he skimmed with that single hand around your waistband as if testing its tensile strength. The backs of your thighs burned from the weight distribution and your neck ached from having to hold up against gravity. Donnie only surveyed the curve of your body with faint flicks of his gaze as he instead focused on circling your hips.

With a sudden hook of his thumb, he levied half your bottoms and shoved down. The other side clung and it took a clean swipe from the opposite direction to catch them. He moved in a seesaw that had his thumb nail skimming more sensitive skin as he rocked your pants and underwear down. By the time they fell, your legs were threatening to do the same and only then did he scoop you up.

It was into his arms and you kicked out socked feet in glee as he carried you to bed. He perched you on the edge and the titillation pumped through your veins as he squatted in front of you. It sent you right back to imagery of your first night together and your inner muscles clenched onto that excitement.

“You are well aware of what we are about to get into.”

You nodded.

“Are you ready?”

“Very much so.”

“Show me, love.”

You gathered your knees and adjusted your positions. Already perched, you moved your pelvis forward as your shoulders came back. Your arms compensated for yet another lean, though this one was cushioned by a mattress. It read comfortable as your hands fisted the sheets and you split your legs to present for him.

He took you in with all his senses. It first came with the visual sight even though you could tell you were far from glistening. Excitement had only taken you so far, but he was completely enamored by your sex. He surveyed you with his exploding pupils before he reached, compelled. His warm finger skirted your outer lips and he pressed to see how engorged they were with blood. Arousal meant there was a heated layer and the cooler air of the room lapped at you in time with the way he licked his lips.

You rolled your hips eager and he lowered his head for his next sense. It was smell, and you’d grown accustomed to his scenting. He’d been sniffing you shamelessly in his daily examinations and it always looked to you like a master sommelier. His lips would part, letting the scent inhale deeply through his nostrils and cascade down his tongue. You imagined he picked up all sorts of notes that you couldn’t as he trended closer.

He breathed out then in and it was with one last striking whiff that nosed lightly at your clit. The tip of his beak invaded you for touch and your voice pitched behind warbled lips. He flicked a scolding glance up at you for trying to muffle your noises and when your mouth opened it was to breathily pant. He found that suitable and returned to his nosing. He was scenting, you could tell, but there was no snuffle. It was a slow and even thing meant to relish and, even though you couldn’t see him, you felt the moisture differently when his jaw parted.

You arched in time and met his tongue. A dainty tip, he mapped your folds first as if he didn’t already know your anatomy down to the cellular level. He gave a base level tasting lap and you whined at the lack of targeting. You watched his eyes surface in a rolling fashion and you frowned when you caught sight of him. He smiled against your cunt before pressing into your heat with his eyes still questioning you.

You mewled for him and it seemed like a satisfactory answer because he dove in. You puffed open relief as he licked into you with the accuracy you craved. He long knew exactly how to manipulate you on his tongue and you tossed your head back to give yourself over to him.

You jolted when he suddenly grabbed your feet.

In a tug, he used your surprise to throw you off balance and you fell onto your back. The bed was completely forgiving and you stared up at the canopy for exactly one second before his tongue shifted. He latched onto your clit in your toe tingling way and you barely cared he was still doing something to your feet. You imagined he was operating comical heavy machinery where the levers were your limbs because of the jarring push and pull of his movements.

His things swiped down and he hit some sort of pressure point in both your arches that ripped a moan from you. He slicked downward, dragging your growing wet on his tongue to taste and stimulate you. You squirmed, trying to get more, but he pushed your knees to fold. Your legs came, bent at the knee, and he shifted his weight to pour more over you. It pressed your thighs closer to your torso and you recognized the move even though it had been a long time since he last exercised it.

The mating press.

You chirped wanton for him at the thought and he churred straight into your sex at your revelation. You gave your mating call in aching need, but he demanded a bit more of you. It came with a swirling of his mouth and just enough suction that you could feel your insides weeping. The drip caused an audible pop when he unlatched that you could only hear as the final sense, sound, and he panted from what you imagined was a full assault of his senses. He then appeared, moving to stand in a growing form with your combined soaks painting his chin.

The moment he hit his full height was the same time you saw the bob of his cock. It bounced with him and hung a flag over your sex. You heaved a single time at the sight of it and were struck with one single thought:

This was going to get you pregnant.

A mating call warped off your lips before another slammed it out of the way. You couldn’t stop yourself as it sounded again and again on what hit your ears as a nagging repeat. The pitch was off and feral like a cat in heat. You ached for him, head lifting in the process and he only stared at your wanting form.

“D-Donnie…!” You finally managed amongst his seeming neglect. “P-please!”

He nodded and swept over you in what felt like a final moment.

Like you’d never be like this again.

Like something monumental was about to shift.

He then lowered enough to scoop up under your ass and scoot you forward. It made room for his knees and you continued to call out to him. He shushed you with a sharp mating response of his own and you bit down on your lip to try to stave off more. He was taking too long in his adjustments, but you knew there was purpose. You knew first hand how precarious the position could be. Your body was fully trapped beneath his while also being folded. It contracted and compressed your very being, but also made it so his pelvis could be aimed above yours. It also meant you had a full view of how his cock dangled down, scorched and ready to sear you.

Your vision honed in on the glisten of his member and trailed down where his tip pearled a perfect bead of pre.

Another mating call wormed up your throat which was decimated into a squeak as he pressed his glans to you. The heat felt like a boiling threat and you waited for him to plunge. Instead he continued to cater to his alignment before he rolled his hips so his cock ran against you. On your back and neck twisted in a position to view him, you saw his glans face you before they rolled backwards in their stroke. The oar of them flared there, returned once again, and then disappeared to catch your hole.

You wanted to sob at the torturous pace, but he so close.

“Please!” You shouted in spite of yourself.

He didn’t respond at all and only focused on a testing press.

It wasn’t enough to breach you and you groaned as loud as you could.

He chirped lightly, something faint and weary that you couldn't think much on before he wound upwards once and then descended.

Your eyes flew open and you watched as each delicious centimeter of him sank into your cunt. There was a pulse to your lips that marked the spread and soak as they peeled apart to grant him entry. He disappeared further, feeding into you and beading up your discharge. It cropped a creamy spill that pressed out at his size and clung around your entrance waiting for further use. His member widened, spreading toward the base of the knot and you saw the stretch of your lips grow taut.

He was then fully sheathed after what felt like hours and your head fell back. You panted lightly, all a mental exertion and felt sweat dot your brow. You were rushing, you knew. It was the incessant need and the many years built up to this moment. As he held in place, you saw all the rushing times you’d tried to devour each other. This wasn’t that and spoke to something far deeper. It roused you to be more present and you found him trying to look at your connection. His proportions meant he couldn’t and he lifted his head with the intent of a question pouring off him.

He wanted to know what it was like and you told him that it was quite the view. He churred a vibration that you felt dip inside you. You willed him to know that more would be better and he agreed to pull back the slightest amount. Your cunt clung to him, eager lips dragging against his length and each and every vein in an attempt to keep him. He barely made it a few inches before he plunged back in as if he couldn’t stand the cold room temperature. You chuckled at the thought of that sort of cockwarming and he probed your depths in interest at your laugh.

You almost responded until his ministrations found what he was looking for.

You then only gasped in pleasure and the cage of his body finally fell. He met you in a scoop of limbs and you pulled him closer. Your hips cried at the weight, but he rocked in a gentle massaging gesture. It eased the tension and his lips found yours with a roll of his tongue. He tasted and smelled like you. Intoxication clouded your mind and you now, finally this moment, would be the time he'd give way to fuck you.

You broke your lip lock to pepper excitement across his face. He scrubbed into it, his beak moving side to side to catch all your little pecks. He tittered in a melodic chirp and joy caused your cunt to pulse. It warped a sound of almost paint off his lips and he melded your pelvises into a single shape as if to squash it.

“Not gonna last…” He whined suddenly.

“That’s…” You spoke before you fully understood his words.

How was that possible?

He hadn't thrusted even once.

He held deathly still and you moved your neck to view him.

Humiliation painted his feature and he would have tucked himself away if he could.

Sense exploded past your horny thoughts for the first time.

He had showed all the signs.

That's why he'd been anxious at the door.

That's why he hadn't rushed to fuck you.

That’s why he had been going so slow.

It wasn’t just to mark the occasion.

It wasn't because he feared his ferality.

It was a startling amount of awareness that threatened him.

As much as you did, he knew what today was and what it meant.

It made him so consciously excited that it went straight to his head.

He had been trying to stave off losing himself in a totally new way.

An excited noise hummed in your throat.

He saw your glee and wilted against it.

“N-no!” You nudged him with your nose. “That’s good!”

“No.” He bit back.

“Yes.” You disagreed and extracted an arm from the tangle.

You found his cheek and he soured as there was an inherent movement that bobbed his cock.

“I can count the amount of times you’ve gotten close to cumming before me on one hand.”

He glared at you as if you’d pointed out his greatest failures.

You lightly pinched his cheek. “You’re so excited...”

He frowned deeply.

You kissed his relenting face. “I love you.”

“Please.”

“I do.” You pressed.

“Y/N.”

“How do my orgasmd work with conception again? I can't remember…” You absolutely did, but your partner was being too cute not to tease.

He ducked his head as much as he could.

You were too close for him to hide. “Donnie…?”

He grumbled something.

“What was that…?” You poked his cheek.

“It doesn’t…” He ground out.

“Then what’s the problem? I know you'll make me cum right after you do. Doesn’t it sound hot to pump your finger into me, push the cum deeper, until I’m writhing on it?”

He relented the smallest bit.

“I'm married to Donatello. Cumming is always a guarantee. It's like your customer satisfaction brand.”

“I wanted us together.”

“We can try… Has waiting helped?”

His grimace said not at all.

You moved your hips the slightest amount and the way his dropped to keep you still meant you felt exactly how he clenched to keep from cumming then and there.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely cumming first.” You smiled.

His eyes closed, hopeless.

“You’re being a grump.” You kissed his cheek.

He let more of his body weight fall onto you in some sort of retribution, but you could only giggle.

“Come on…” You channeled as much energy as you could muster in your ass before you managed to flex.

Your innermost walls shifted around him and he gave a long sultry groan.

“That’s it…” You managed the same spasm with less effort.

He moaned your name.

“My sweet, sweet husband…” You encouraged, pulsing around him over and over.

“I’m going to…!” He panted.

“Go on. Fertilize me. I'm waiting.” You whispered against his head.

He exhaled sharply and you felt all of him twitch in one sharp movement. Where you hadn’t followed the trend of his spread or knot, they both seemed to inflate to their widest mass in a snap instant as he came. You felt each twitch of him as you weren’t in your throes. You pet his head before stroking lower on his carapace to encourage him. You hit a spot that made him buck as he filled you deep.

He eventually breathed again, panting from having witheld, and rolled his head to the side to bump yours.

You rubbed his shell with a heavy hand.

He eventually churred at the feeling and lifted up to appraise you.

You smiled, ever ready for him.

His lids fell in a form of annoyance.

“I’m gonna make you cum until you beg me to stop.”

You pitched an excited noise as he yanked out of you. You felt his essence chase his cock and your limbs were released. You clenched immediately, trying to hold his seed in and he glimpsed the tightening of your sex as he climbed off the bed.

His lips rounded and you saw focus slip from his gaze. You chose then to relax and the rebound flex of your walls squished out his spent. A tiny amount trickled against your labia and you heard Donnie gasp at the sight.

“Finally, right…?” You mused and assumed you were thinking the same thing.

You were finally stuffed with a potent load.

That chance of getting pregnant now existed.

You were both aiming to make it assured.

Donnie lurched forward and you readied yourself for his decree. He would make you cum. You imagined he would play out that scenario you had offered earlier and felt his cum drip to the swell of your ass.

That's where he would start, you thought. He would swipe it up expertly with those thick fingers of his and stuff the seminal fluid or whatever he had called it, back inside. He would then tease you until you were writhing.

A tongue hit hot and wet against your ass cheek causing you to cry out your surprise. Your thighs were grabbed first before giving hands tucked under your body. He hoisted you up to meet his mouth as if there wasn't enough time for him to dip any lower.

Donnie swiped the trail of cum up and licked it straight back into you. His arms locked heavy around your body just in time for him to bury his snout hard into your sex, he breathed heavy desperation as his canines grazed your labia. Your voice hit a near painful pinch and you fought against the onslaught with grabbing hands.

You caught his mask in the fumble and pulled it so the back half lifted and the front blocked his vision. “What are you doing?!”

He sucked hard and you spasmed.

“Ah! Donnie-!” You meant to say more, but he let one of your legs drop to his shoulder so his thumb could strike your clit.

It was flint to steel, the sparks ignited and you cried his name in a new tone. It was no longer a question, but a burning desire. He slurped down noisily and the noise hit your ears to stoke. You were inflamed, rising up further than he was holding you as pressure dipped in and outward in tandem. His thumb swirled loose and comfortable against the slick and he routinely bumped his own nose.

His tongue traveled deep, seeking further in you than ever before and it marked a widening of his jaw. You felt the whole of his mouth encompass you until it pushed even his hand away. His teeth scraped over your punished clit and you screamed out as it sent you over.

It burned you to a white host crisp and the flames engulfed your vision. He pressed forth, seeking to destroy what was already ash on the ground. With one leg still over his shoulder, you snapped a heel down hard in hopes of stopping the siege. Your foot snagged one of his carapace injuries and scrape was enough for him to grunt free.

Knowing he'd lock back on, you bucked hard in your freedom and pelvic thrusted into his beak. It loosened his grip and you slid back to the bed. He held your single leg to his chest as a lifeline while you scrambled to slip your hands into your abused cunt. You did a quick check for blood as his teeth had been piercing. As far as you could tell it was clear from injury, but you glowered up at your mate.

“What was that!? You ate it?!”

He was the portrait of a captured criminal.

His mask was also still comically out of place and you tore it off him to wipe your hands. “What happened?”

He gave a pitiful chirp.

You swatted him with the wetted cloth.

He squirmed in a way that said its feeling repulsed him.

“Donatello!”

“As you’d expect!” He finally animated. “That I finally had a chance! That what was leaking from you had potential!”

“So you suck the potential out of me?!”

“The sperm is unaffected! You referenced the science prior!”

Your eyes flashed. “And I know it! Are you still mad because I didn’t listen one time?!”

“You act as though I insinuated such!”

“Didn’t you?!” You stared him down ready to catch the slightest warp in his expression.

He matched you.

You stood off against each other for several seconds before you deferred.

You then both sat in an awkward heap where you were still spread and he was only half on the bed.

Donnie was the first to move.

“May I?” He asked with lowered lids.

You nodded, granting his request, whatever it was.

He was slow in skimming over you and making his journey known. He moved toward the apex between your legs and you presented for him. He took your willingness in with an emotionally wounded gaze that said he didn’t believe he deserved the kindness. You kneed his chin gently as soon as he was within range.

“It's okay…”

He wasn't as sure yet and only kissed the cap before shimmying downward until he was on his knees off the bed. He leaned forward, his face to your sex, and you felt him looking you over.

You knew he was checking for injury just as you had and he affirmed your health with a kiss to your clit. The sensitive bud felt tender, but his warmth came away like a balm. You exhaled slow and steady until he reappeared at your side. You squirmed further up the bed and he laid down beside you. You immediately glued yourself to him, cuddling close and leaning up for a kiss. He appraised you once before meeting you and it took several until he relaxed.

“Does that consumption offend you as well?”

You chuckled against him. “No, it just felt a little like a slight. Like you just filled me and you took it right away.”

He eyed you and you could feel his scientific correction was looming.

You pushed his plastron. “You know what I’m saying.”

His eyes closed and he shrugged as he did.

“It wasn't what I was expecting, but it wasn't bad. You surprised me.” You held your hand firm to his pectoral scute and flexed your fingers out. “As usual…”

His body went a certain slack.

“We done for tonight…?”

He didn’t move as far as you could tell.

“It’s alright if so… I know that whole ‘make me cum until I beg’ line was you trying to make up for cumming too fast.”

His lip twitched.

“It’s really okay. You lost two kinds of control. That's gotta be overstimulating. I just want to set my expectations.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You pressed him.

“Look down.”

Your gaze plummeted southward on contact.

All that was there was the mattress and your forearm resting atop sheets where it acted as a bridge between your bodies.

You heard a puff of laughter.

Your gaze shot right back up to see him trying to control giggles.

“I did what you said! Why are you-?!”

He couldn’t manage words and joy crinkled his gaze.

He bobbed and bubbled until he got enough control to flick his pupils down the length of his body. You made a little irritated sound and embarrassment tried to form a complaint on your lips.

He had to cover his mouth. “My mistake. Please look easterly.”

You glowered at him once before glaring in that direction which led down his plastron.

It was the landing strip leading to his pointed purple member. His cock stood at full mass and its pink base had a redder tint than usual. That was typically a shade you only saw during his heat when his member wasn't able to return to the safety of his body. It was nowhere near Donnie’s season which meant instead his erection had persisted.

The reason for which shot straight to your core. “O-Oh…!”

“It hasn’t gone down since we began…” He managed with a weary tone.

“But you came…?” You reached for his cock and it twitched away once before you made contact.

“As you stated, I am entirely too excited…”

You soothed his glans with a stroke.

They undulated under your grip, starving.

“So…?” That latent heat glowed in your cheeks, still smoldering.

“I can't predict when it'll go down.”

“Will you cum just as fast?” You felt excitement manifest as stars in your eyes.

His expression flattened out a bit.

“I want you to.” You tinged your words with those ever present embers. “Cum again and again. I want to wring you dry. We’ll go until it calms down.”

He flushed at how eager you were.

“Just promise I can keep it this time.” You pleaded.

“So you do find cum eating offensive.” His attempt at distracting you from his unease was too obvious.

You shoved him over onto his carapace and mounted him before he could protest.

“Wait-!” He tried to grab your hips.

“Nope. My terms now. You will-” You commanded, got yourself lined up, and sank down his length. “-cum.”

You felt his cock explode on contact with your heat.

“Oh fuck…!” You ground down on his ejaculate.

Donnie whined something high pitched before his throat eked out, “Sworn! No stopping! You call out tomorrow!”

You squealed happily as he rolled your conjoined bodies over to finally fuck you in earnest.

You were slow in opening the bathroom door.

It had been hard enough to muster up the energy for you to grab the handle.

Now that you had swiveled it and the mechanism had pulled the bolt back, it felt like painful irony.

One door led to another.

You saw the creak of space that led to your bedroom and with it came the heavy heart.

This was the transition point.

You stepped forward and felt the cotton between your legs.

It was another tangible omen.

It would disappear in time, but for now you were hyperaware.

The aptly named period product marked an end and was sopping up your failure.

One dark red drip at a time.

You walked out to where Donnie was already standing.

You’d left him sitting on the couch.

What had found him first?

The scent or your abysmal feelings through your wedding band?

You didn’t care because either way he knew and as your foot lifted for the next step, he was meeting it with his.

You reached one another, but didn’t connect.

You had to address it.

You stared down at your three feet and one prosthetic.

“Could it… be the implantation bleed?” You whispered as quietly as you could.

It would rob the words of their strength.

Without power, maybe you could convince them otherwise.

You could manifest them into the outcome you wanted and not the one that wasted seven days of trying.

Eighteen days since Donnie had made the calendar.

Twenty-seven days since your new menstrual cycle started.

Except today it reset to one.

“There… is… a chance…?” Donnie tried, his voice as soft as yours.

You both met each other’s eyes in time.

You knew the truth then.

You hadn't gotten pregnant this cycle.

These were only words.

It was the same as before.

Nothing had changed.

Not yet.

1.73%.

💜 NEXT 💜

My body aches today, but my heart always aches with thanks for my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#softspotfic #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt Donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

Text

Cat’s 3K Series

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Part Three

By the end of the week, the hero was an expert in stitching. It was a lot of work.

On the outside, the villain didn’t look that bad but once the hero removed their clothing, the amount of cuts and bruises was scary. Their whole body was full of them and the hero had to use a lot of thread. There were also smaller wounds which the hero covered up with band aids.

Unfortunately, they only had coloured ones with comic animals (their niece had wanted those a while ago) which at first, had made the villain protest again. However, the hero had somehow managed to convince them that the colour of those band aids had absolutely nothing to do with their functionality.

One time, the hero caught them trying to escape again, limping, they’d aimed for the door but the hero had pulled them back, pressing their bodies against each other, hands on the villain’s chest. Handcuffs were useless, the hero had decided. Maybe that was a good excuse but the hero also had seen the marks those handcuffs had left on them.

Slowly, the week passed and slowly, all of the villain’s wounds were stitched and cared for, even those which reopened frequently thanks to their great struggling. The hero placed the last band aid on the villain’s jaw.

“You know,” the hero mumbled. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

The villain’s eyes jumped to the hero’s.

“No dirty joke?” the villain asked.

Yeah, no dirty joke. With the villain around them 24 hours a day, it was more than a little complicated to play a role. Either that and crying themselves to sleep every night or walking around like an exhausted ghost all day. They’d decided on doing the latter.

The agency had urged them to file a report but the hero had called in sick. They knew they couldn’t do this for eternity.

The hero didn’t answer them.

“Your stitches are awful,” the villain said. “They look horrible.”

“You’re mean.” The hero looked at one of the stitches, slightly uneasy now.

“I didn’t ask you to treat my wounds.”

The hero didn’t say anything.

“Still don’t get it why you do all this shit. The agency is bad, I get that. But they’re heroes. Can’t be that bad.”

The hero stared at them, something close to a murder stare.

“You know nothing,” they said. They pushed the flashbacks into the corners of their brain. Deep down so they wouldn’t have to dig them up again. “There are some leftovers in the fridge, take them if you want to.”

The hero stood up and looked down at their shaking fingers. They breathed in, breathed out. But it didn’t go away.

Usually it did but with the agency right behind them, asking for mission reports and more work, psychic evaluations and health check ups and another mission, they couldn’t even fall asleep anymore. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring the villain here. Maybe they were better off alone.

“I don’t wanna eat your trash food.”

“You know what?” The hero turned around with a burning face. “You’re a massive fucking asshole. I saved your life, more than once by now and you do nothing but insult me.”

Anger and exhaustion mixed together, creating a poisonous soup the hero was more than ready to throw in the others face.

“I know my cooking isn’t the fucking best, alright? I know it sucks but I’m trying really hard to keep us both alive.” The hero’s hands formed into fists and they dug their fingernails into the palms of their hands. “Fine. Just leave if you want to. Leave.”

The villain had the audacity to actually look surprised. A little shocked too. What a joke.

“I won’t drag you back into this apartment. Leave. Escape. Whatever. I don’t care. I have better things to do.”

Blinded by overwhelming emotions, they grabbed their suit and walked out of the door. They accepted the mission the agency had given to them on their mobile phone.

Turned out, irrational decisions were the worst. The hero had suspected that with bringing the villain into their home but now, they were certainly sure this was their end.

Apparently their opponent’s evaluation was ridiculously wrong. The information the agency had sent to the hero had described them as “insufficient” and “negligibly violent.” They were anything but.

Within five minutes of the fight, the hero already had a broken rib and a sprained ankle. Ten minutes in and the hero had turned into prey that got hunted. The hero tried desperately to hide, to block where they could but it didn’t get them far. They got hit, could barely escape, got dragged back into the whole mess. Their opponent wasn’t enormous in size but they were quick. Focused. Agile.

The hero wheezed when another strong hit went to their stomach. They felt the crack and the pain, felt how tears formed in their eyes.

They made a noise, a horrible noise and broke down.

“Nothing personal,” their opponent said, voice deep. The hero fought for air but nothing filled up their lungs. Not fair. Not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Their tears fell to the ground and they gasped for oxygen which eventually found its way into their lungs.

They hadn’t made dinner yet. What if the villain really didn’t like the leftovers? But they’d eaten yesterday…

They squeezed their eyelids together. What were they even thinking about? The villain had probably left the house already, licking their wounds like a hurt dog in their lair.

What a thought. The apartment would be so quiet…

With time, they managed to breathe evenly. But weren’t they tired of fighting? Weren’t they just so, so done with everything?

“Who sent you?” the hero asked.

“I sent myself,” they said. “Wanted to see how strong those little heroes have become. Wanted to experiment a bit with you.”

Experiment.

“Please,” the hero begged.

Their throat went dry. Their breathing changed, breaking, crumbling in their control. They knew they couldn’t afford this right now but god it had never been this bad before. They grasped their suit, gripped the fabric stretching over their chest. It was hot. It was way too hot.

Tears streamed down their face. Experiment.

And then, suddenly, they felt a hand on their shoulder.

“This one is mine.” The hero looked up, finding the villain’s eyes easily. They wanted to cry out of happiness but the building panic attack prohibited it.

The opponent tilted their head, their eyes jumping between the villain and the hero.

“Where have you been?”

“I kidnapped them, they escaped,” the villain lied. Their fingers combed through the hero’s hair and they shushed. “Mistake on my part.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” the opponent asked. Slowly, the hero got a grip on reality. This wasn’t the end. It wasn’t the end, wasn’t the end, wasn’t the end—

“They became attached to me accidentally. I didn’t know if you’d approve,” the villain said. “I wanted them for myself.”

The hero saw the tension in the villain’s jaw, how they swallowed forcefully. They knew each other.

The opponent watched them carefully, suspiciously.

“Fine with me. Make them your puppy.” They looked at the villain intensely. “But don’t forget about my puppy back at home, will you?”

The hero didn’t understand the threat. However, when the villain carried them to the hero’s car, they understood that the villain had come to rescue them.

#Joan going to war is such a mood #some people really make you want to go to war #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #3K

251 notes · View notes

baeklination · 11 months

Text

Rural

Date: 231110

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, general fucking, fingering

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 4k

NOTE: Story 3 of Theme BAMBI. This is a soft one.

Masterlist

¤¤

Some days blue, some days grey, the mountains roll in the distance. Even when you get as far as farm country they lie farther still. Silent and never changing - a mystery that lends solace.

Between them and here lies all you’ve seen in the world, but from the home where you grew up surrounded by golden fields and wind rushing through corn stalks to where you now live, on a very quiet edge of a very small town, it doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, with a little more than a modest salary you could save some each month and visit one of those big cities the ladies at the cafe are always talking about with so much shock and fascination…but it’ll keep.

If anything, what you would consider these days is a tour based on temperature; anywhere where it’s not scorching before the clock has struck eleven.

Scorching.

Scorching…

“Rats..!”

Sticking the pin in the paper haphazardly you run down from upstairs to the kitchen, knowing you’ll be met by smoke billowing out from the oven - but you’re not. Saying a prayer of please, please, please, you grab a mitten, open the oven and pull out the cobbler.

“Thank god..!”, you sigh, relieved to see you haven’t ruined the afternoon goodies you’ve promised Ms. Ethel to bring round before work.

Peering into the oven you see the culprit, a classic: edibles from a previous use turning into charcoal.

“All in a day’s work”, you mumble to yourself, scraping the burnt piece away.

“Oh, you hadn’t forgotten about me”, Ms. Ethel chirps as soon as she opens the door.

“It’s not that late, is it?”

“Not for an old hen like me, but you ought to be on your way already. Or are you taking the day off?”

“The week’s just started, Ms. Ethel, I don’t need to rest just yet”, you smile at her on your way to the kitchen. “I’ll be on time. Either way, Ida has a key as well and I don’t suspect they’ll be breaking down the door on a Tuesday. Now, what do you think? Presentable?"

“I think the ladies will be fighting over it. I’m fighting myself right now”, she laughs, smacking her lips.

“Go on, have a bite. It’s best fresh outta the oven.”

“And serve a cobbler with a gaping hole in it? Oh, the jokes would never end, sweet girl.”

“Come now, Ms. Ethel. You don’t serve it whole. Cut it into pieces before they come and they’ll never know the difference.”

“M-hm… Well, the cook knows best… I still have some coffee in the pot, it’ll go fine with a bit of sweet.”

“Go sit down, I’ll bring it.”

Having survived her husband of fifty-three years, Ms. Ethel is going on her seventh year alone. She says she isn’t lonely, and you reckon she mostly isn’t because she keeps herself busy with a visit here, a trip there all throughout her weeks, but nonetheless spending every morning with someone for fifty years is a habit you don’t wean off easily and that’s why you try to stop at hers a few days a week, to make sure. Suppose it is also for your own benefit. With your folks out on the countryside she’s become like a relative of sorts and being around her, doing little chores to alleviate her burden, is comforting.

Sometimes - like right now - seeing her sitting by the window, half smiling with curlers in her hair, she’s so cute it breaks your heart. You don’t know why exactly. It just does. But coffee and cake won’t wait for no one, so you snap out of it and join her in the living room.

“Here you go. Give me your most- second most honest opinion.”

“You never disappoint. If these hands of mine were still working proper I’d tell the ladies I was the baker.”

Lifting her spoon in cheers, she winks before eating it, and since it’s rude to wait for an evaluation you look out the window. Her view is almost the exact same as from your own, barring the houses farther down the street being visible here. You could tell the day was heating up fast on your way over, and the cat resting under the neighbour's tree tells the same story. A car breaks first the silence then your view; your heart skips. Shielded by the angle and speed, the frame is gone in the blink of an eye, but that's all you need - the tan arm, checkered shirt rolled up, holding the steering wheel of that red truck, is his.

“Mm!”, Ms. Ethel exclaims, bringing you back. “Sweet and deep just like I like it!”

You’re a capable woman. A business owner - albeit small - making and mending clothes, paying rent on time, handling salary and meetings with your accountant by yourself. Even got your own house and home. But one hint of him and you turn silly. Knowing Baekhyun’s in town rattles your brain and instead of solely focusing on the job at hand you’re preoccupied with thoughts of how to see him. Should you head over to Joe’s pretending to need some electrical advice and hope Baekhyun’s stopped in to buy some new tools? Or the grocery store? The diner? You don’t want to be too obvious and get the folks talking - so maybe it’s best to stay put? Look as if you’re only minding your own and hope he’ll stop by and say hello. But what if he doesn’t? If you occupy yourself with something in the front part of the store, say fixing the mannequins or do a bit of sweeping you might see him across the road. Of course, one waves in such a situation - and of course, he’d be encouraged to come over…

This ridiculous merry-go-round occurs every time he's in town. Only a few times have you missed each other, be it because you were tending to a customer while he was loading up his truck or you stepping out just before he came in looking to buy a set of assorted buttons you know he didn't need.

Oh, but why is he such a fool? There have been times you know he’s on the verge of taking a step towards confessing, but being interrupted or simply not quite finding the courage he’d held his tongue. He’d smile and chuckle, squeeze the fedora in his hands before saying goodbye with a hint of sadness.

And while neither of you said anything it could be weeks before you saw each other again and sometimes you'd imagine that next time he wouldn't be alone. How uncomfortably the pit in your stomach sits when you think he might’ve been set up with a “nice girl” from there and you’ll find out about it on a regular day like this. Like the day the little bell over the door chimed, announcing his entry - accompanied by a woman you didn't recognise. He must have seen it then. How your stomach churned, making you too sick to even greet her with a smile. You knew it was all over, too late, on account of your own cowardice. And he must have seen how vigour was breathed back in your body when he explained how the woman had merely asked for directions; a visitor driving through town finding herself in need of a seamstress due to an unfortunate rip of her trouser leg.

Sometimes you acknowledge that driving the matter forward can't fall solely on him. After all, everything you've gained since you were seventeen has been by your own efforts and decisions. You've lived precisely as you've wanted to - with courage. So why is this so difficult..? If it were to end up a fiasco you'd barely see him anyway, right?

Right!

But if it did end up a fiasco you'd still be wretchedly in love with him. Not giving him a chance to say yes also means he can't say no.

You saw him way across the street but of course put on a smaller act of coming out to give your little café set in front a wipe with a cloth - just in case.

"Hiya, Byun..! How's that crop 'o yours surviving..!", Humphrey, owner of a small shop for tinkers to the far left of you, jovially shouts.

"They're hanging in there, Mr. Thomas..!", Baekhyun calls back to him. When his head is turned a thin veil of sweat on the back of his neck glistens in the sun, carrying down the way under his shirt collar. Sympathizing with his situation of doing manual labour in this heat, you think how uncomfortably warm it must be under both flannel and undershirt. Before you're aware, the thought that he must have that film of sweat over his shoulders and chest comes into your mind. If his skin was touching yours…

"I'm sure your fabrics are doing fine as ever in spite of the sun?"

"Oh… yes. I guess I picked a good product", you smile, certain a flush is branding your cheeks, that he knows what you were thinking just now.

"You have a long drive home, let me get you something to drink. Sit."

Going to the back of the store to fetch a bottle you take a quick look in the mirror and can determine your facial colour hasn't undergone any dramatic change. Thank you.

On your way back you stop for a second, mesmerized by the way Baekhyun wafts his hat in hope of some alleviation. The awning has gotten him away from direct sunlight but the heat is so pressing it's only a marginal change. He looks up from his seat when he hears the click and fizzle, and humbly accepts the bottle of Nehi soda. Gulping half of it down in one go he exhales loudly, the way all of us do after drinking carbonated drinks and tips the bottle in your direction.

“You're a lifesaver.”

“It's just a soda on a hot summer's day… So, are they? Your crop hanging in there alright?”

When it comes to Baekhyun, you're terrible at smalltalk, but luckily he doesn't seem to notice or leastways not mind.

“I’m not in any peril just yet. I upgraded my irrigation system last season. Cost me a penny, but it's been worth it. You know how-” Stopping, he chuckles and knits his brows. “I'm sure this isn't the least interesting for you.”

“No… But it's all French to me…”

“Well, then, how's your folks doing? I think it's been a while since I saw their car passing out there. They move?”

“They're still out there. But my father took a tumble, so they've been staying in. On account of his leg.”

“Oh, that doesn't sound too good. Has he been to the doctor's?”

“Mm. It's broken. I'm going over on Friday to stay the weekend, do some work around there. If the buses start going again, that is…”

“I can give you a lift.”

And just like that, an opportunity like no other opened up.

“I’m sure you’re busy, I wouldn’t like to put you–”

“I always have time for you.”

To say your mind has been preoccupied elsewhere this Friday is an understatement. At times it seemed like time wasn't moving quickly enough. Other times it was moving too fast, no doubt a result of nerves. It was a tiny, white lie you told Ida about having tons to do before you depart and therefore would be locking up early, but she didn't mind either way - an extra few hours of weekend is nothing to complain about.

The tons you had to do was to give in to vanity; change into a fresh dress, dab some powder on your face. The lipstick stayed in the drawer - you don't want to be too obvious. And not fully admitting it even to yourself, if Baekhyun sees you put some effort into it he might not wish to smud- anyway, your folks would wonder about the pageantry.

You can’t help wondering if he really was planning on coming up here or if he made it up. Of course he didn’t make it up; driving all that way just for you? Maybe he would. He said he always has time for you.

“I always have time for you…"

Such butterflies go through your body when you think back on how he said it, so matter-of-factly, and you promise yourself that, if he doesn’t take the first step today, as the sun is your witness, you will.

You were ready forty minutes ahead of time and after sitting on the hallway chair for ten minutes you got so restless that you decided to step over to Ms. Ethel's. It was actually a good thing since she'd just done the laundry and hanging it to dry gave you something to do as well as it unburdened her.

You've learned to recognise the sound of his engine after all this time so he doesn't have to come into view for you to know.

"That will be your lift then?", Ms. Ethel asks when she sees your reaction.

"Seems it is. You're alright, nothing else you need? Trash to take out?"

"Go on, I'll make due. Say why isn't Mr. Byun married yet? A fine gentleman like him ought to have a wife, don't you think?" She's not blind. Her eyes twinkle when she opens the door and continues "Mm. And a fine woman like you should have a husband…"

You want to confirm what she already knows, share your secret, but now is not the time so you simply swat your hand smile.

"I'll see you Monday, Ms. Ethel.”

If smalltalk is one of your weaker points, then smalltalk around a subject is weaker still. All throughout the hour-long drive you spoke about this and that. Mostly memories from when you were growing up, the difficulties of Baekhyun having a different background than most, why you left, why he stayed and so on, but in the back of your head you tried to find an “in”, as they say. Some way to get talking about the two of you, but whichever line you had seemed contrived, and plainly put: you were too scared. But when he offered to lend your parents a book about irrigation and new gadgets, you jumped at the chance, deciding that following him in under the guise of wanting to have a look at the old place, would create the perfect moment to tell him. Away from the road and him having to concentrate on driving was best anyway.

You take a few steps before realizing it's raining. Calling it rain is almost an overstatement. It's what you refer to as god's flower mister; rain so fine it feels like someone is using a giant sprayer from up above.

Baekhyun leaves the door open so you walk in, curious to see if it's stayed the same. It mostly has. Maybe a new kitchen table or sofa, you don't remember that well. It's only a minute until he's back with the book and it's too soon. You can't even find anything unnecessary to say, some remark about the place.

“Do you want to have a look around?” He's awkward and fidgety. He's thinking the same thing as you are. “It's all the same, but…”

You're on the verge of doing it. Right there, with a lump in your throat. He must know what you're thinking.

“Oh, okay. Well, then I think I know it already.”

You turn around and grab the doorknob, your lungs tight and pulling. Say it. Say it, say it, tell him! You know you can't do it. A coward.

It's over…

"Wait."

Baekhyun's hand goes to the door. Tentativeness like never before is painted on his face. You dare not move and ruin the delicate momentum. Sliding from the door to the knob, he takes your hand, holding it with the utmost tenderness…then bends forward and presses his mouth onto yours. A whirr goes round your head. His lips are so soft. Moving back he considers your expression then leans forward again, sighing out his relief just before your lips touch. Parting yours, you let your tongue slide onto, under his, feeling his hands gently close around your waist. This elation might not be emotional - if you were to look down you might see your feet hovering an inch off the floor, so wholly does the weight off your shoulders and happiness in your heart feel.

During a moment's breath, Baekhyun glances at the stairs - a Freudian slip of the eye or a question? Either way you do the same then allow him to take your hand and lead you upstairs.

It's just a short walk but nervousness, giddiness, impatience all fit in there.

The room doesn't look like you remember it from growing up, when it belonged to his folks, but neither does it seem like he's taken an earnest interest in the decor, not minding a frill on the curtains or flower pattern on the bedlinen.

It's really happening.

Amidst the softness of his lips you can't help noticing the fumbling of his hands against your neckline.

"I'm a klutz", he laughs shyly, leaving the dress buttons to you.

All of a sudden you become vulnerable. While getting undressed in the course of kissing follows a natural flow, taking your own clothes off with eyes wide open leaves you exposed and becomes somewhat of a revealing of your body. But you gather Baekhyun feels the same way, slightly turning as he does, to put his own garments on a chair. When the undershirt pulls up along his back you can't help pausing; his lean muscles are a testament to years of physical labour and carry on over his shoulders, arms and his torso. In front of you he's turned from the sweet man to infinitely alluring.

Oh…

You're glad that he's the one to remove your bra. After he's pushed the straps from your shoulders you let it fall to the rug beneath and his fingers whisper over your back; biding his time, perhaps waiting for courage.

Then, you feel the touch of his palm as he puts it to your breast, as lightly as if you were made of glass, but daring to put some pressure on it once your lips meet again. Taking a few steps forward he carefully steers you to the bed where he pulls the covers aside for you to get in.

The hairs on his legs against yours with none, the press of his stomach on yours. Him. Stroking hair from your brow, he studies your face with warmth then smiles.

"I guess you've known for some time that I love you."

You take a deep breath, trembling because finally, it's been said. You nod, pull his head closer.

Under your fingers you feel the muscles on his back contract and relax with his small movements. By his fingers the hem of your underwear slips down to be taken off completely when you raise your hips. When he latches his thumbs under his own you're shy to look, as if being attracted to that part of him is shameful, but you are. He's hard, swaying, when he lies back down. Further opening your legs, he guides himself to your entrance amidst showering you with his lush lips; a hint of salt and imagined earth.

On your slick coating he slides the head in with ease, distributing buzzes and whirls as moves.

"Uh……." His soft sigh over your face is a treasure. Pushing further in each time until completely lodged he whispers "Tell me if I'm going too fast."

His elbows frame you in and props him up, leaving only his stomach against yours as he softly claps with his groin.

Allowing you to sneak through with your arms you put your hands on the small of his back, feeling the billowing from below.

Pushing your leg up, he thrusts faster, resting his head on your shoulder so that his hair tickles your cheek. The gentle hums and moans are replaced by heavy exhales and short groans while he's coming closer to climaxing. Your insides swirl and twinkle. The evening hour doesn't matter - in this heat, sweat accumulates between your rocking bodies and mixes with the damp smell of a weathered house.

Panting hard, the quiver in his voice giving it all away, the clapping eventually turns irregular and unbridled, ending with his orgasm.

His heartbeat is on fire - yours is too - and the heat feels strong enough to burn your chest, but even with the desperation for oxygen, his weight on top of you is a rapture unmatched.

Looking at his hands intertwined with yours you're struck by how well he's managed to keep them decently gentlemanlike in spite of his work. He's been perfectly still for some time now. Since he managed the mammoth task of moving his body to lay behind you. Just as you start listening for sounds of snoozing his nose feathers across your back, then he kisses the same place and unclasps his hands. Propping himself on the elbow, he puts his head against your arm and moves his hand over your stomach.

"Do you think you'd like it if I…"

You feel silly not understanding what he means, especially if he's embarrassed to say the words, but you can't do anything other than wait for him. He huffs, bites his bottom lip and rolls you onto your back.

"If I…touched you…" Seeing the perplexion in your face he quickly wants to reassure you "We don't have to, it's okay. If you don't like-"

"No, it's not…" Truth is, in your limited experience with men, none of them ever did or asked to do something like it, so you don't know what it would be like if someone else did it. But you feel like you want him to. "I, um…"

The words wedge in your throat, but he understands you perfectly by the touch on his arm. Placing a dollop of saliva on two fingers, he lets them disappear under the sheet.

"Ah-h…"

You can't help catching your breath when you feel his fingertips run softly over your clit. Slowly lowering his face, he envelops your lips with his, pushing them in sync with his delicate movements. Up and down he caresses, then gathers some more liquid from below and rubs his fingers quickly from side to side.

Turning into the pillow, Baekhyun's face hovers over your side with anticipation so strong it's felt in his breath against your cheek. The whirr intensifies, coming up to the surface, your backside and thighs go tense, you press your hand on mattress, open your mouth…and just then the dam bursts, spilling over electric magic between your legs, inside you, while you shake and try to smother your whines.

Baekhyun groans mutedly and repeatedly places kisses on the side of your face as he draws big circles with the new fluids.

You find him sitting on the patio, watching the sun between clouds in pinks and lilacs. There's not a sound except the grasshoppers so you almost don't want to go out for fear of disturbing this picture. The patio flooring is damp under your feet and only a tiny squeak here and there is heard, save from the swish of the blanket you've wrapped yourself in. Looking your way, he takes a deep breath and opens his arms for you.

“Hi there.”

“Can I ask you…”, you say, playing with his hair. “Why did you look so sad right before you kissed me? Surely you already knew?”

“But I didn't know. I thought. Suspected. So I thought, if I'm wrong and you turn me away, this might be the last time I see you.”

“But you're happy now. Right?”

“Mm. All I want is you and me.”

Looking at the sun you can tell what time it is, so you sigh.

“I think we have to get going…”

Finding his way under the blanket, his hands gently caress your waist, breast. Cupping your face, he presses his lips onto yours.

“Once more before I take you..?”

●

#baekhyun #baekhyun smut #BBH-NET

59 notes · View notes