#/folded like he's freshly washed laundry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harmslength · 29 days

Text

Milk and Honey —

Paring | Neil Lewis x Reader

Word Count | 4.9K

Summary | Being a mother is no easy task. After a long day of muscle pains, sleep deprivation and overall exhaustion—your adoring husband comes home to help.

TLDR - Post pregnancy hormones, pent up sexual frustration and— oh dear god milk?!

Info | SMUT (18+ only), unprotected sex (p in v), established relationship, breeding kink, lactation kink, mommy and daddy kink, impregnation, pregnancy body mentioned, milk sipping and titty sucking (hell yeah)

Notes | posting this now or I genuinely never will. Not my proudest work but here we are. I’m also incredibly aware that I am subjecting y’all to my own weird kinks…Don’t worry! It will only get worse from here :)

This piece is dedicated to my coworker Bay who told me she accidentally took 90 “period cramp relief” pills that ended up making her lactate. Love u girl 🫶🏽

Build Your Own Adventure | you already know ;) tested it out, it’s fiiilllthyyyy

You laid in a ball on top of your bed. Freshly washed linens and clothes circling you like vultures.

You were exhausted, sleep deprived and you ached all over. Every movement made your muscles tense and your migraine grow.

It’s been three months since you had given birth to your little bundle of joy. Right about now though, your child was a lot more like a bundle of terror.

The baby rarely ever slept, too hungry to sleep and too stubborn to latch. It’s not the babys fault though, you knew that. It’s just—well, it’s fucking hard work.

——

You tried your best to wait up for your husband, you truly did. But your eyes grew heavy and your body aches slowly melted into a soft tingle as you fell into a much needed slumber.

You were awoken by the sound of your bedroom door closing. Groaning at the sudden intrusion of your dreams, you rolled over to look at your intruder.

“You’re home.” You mumbled to him groggily. Neil quickly slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed next to you, pushing off the clothes and freshly folded linen off the bed in the process.

You groaned and reached out for it, a heavy complaint ready to be expelled. But Neil just grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it, shushing you with the promise of the laundry being cleaned up later.

“The baby asleep?” He asked while he buried his face in between your shoulder and neck. You felt him take a deep inhale as his fingers trailed down your sore body.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, relaxing at the touch of your loving husband.

“Good.” He smiled and placed a gentle kiss to your neck. You craned your head slightly and welcomed it.

Neil’s soft hands traced the peek of skin that was exposed below your shirt. Lines of stretch marks covered your stomach, but he didn’t mind. He never did, he loved every part of you.

“Thank you for taking care of the baby,” Neil placed kisses along your collarbones.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” Fingers trailed up your shirt to the soft and supple mounds that were your breasts.

You didn’t even realize it, but milk had soaked through the thin layer of your shirt; dripping down and making it sticky against your skin.

“So lucky to have you,” he echoed, his hands slightly trembling, his fresh hard on pressing into your thigh.

You loved the attention Neil gave you, but with how sore your body was from recovering, the constant care of your baby and the ever-growing pressure from the milk trapped in your breasts; you were almost at your breaking point.

“Neil— baby, not tonight.” You protested and gently pushed him away. Neil clung on though, his desire for you borderline insatiable.

“What’s wrong, is Mommy not feeling well?” He cooed into your ear, making you tingle all over.

He had started calling you that—mommy—right after you both found out that you were pregnant. It was sweet for the most part. Mostly coming off as innocent, but when he said it like that—

His fingers tweaked at your sore nipples, always hard and leaking these days. You winced slightly, clenching your teeth and letting out a soft hiss.

“Come on, use your words Mommy.” He teased, making your lower half grow slightly hot as you attempted to fight off his advances.

“I’m so exhausted, my body—“ He interrupted you with the slide of one his hands ghosting past your navel and onto the radiating heat between your legs.

“Mhmm, keep going.” He urged you to continue.

You were slowly getting overwhelmed, your shirt dampening more and more, your arousal slowly building, slowing making its way up a steady hill as it always did.

“My body is overworked, Neil. I-I love staying home and caring for the baby, but with the feeding and the—“ His hand slipped between your thighs, cupping your mound.

“—changing and never sleeping, it’s been so tough.. I’m just so overwhelmed.” You breathed out, little tears of frustration stinging your eyes. You took a deep, long breath in and exhaled.

Neil understood, or at least made sure that you knew he listened to your every word. He was always attentive and kind with you but something about carrying his child for nine months really pushed him into overdrive.

During the pregnancy you had made a habit— or well the baby had made a habit of craving weird foods at the oddest hours. Neil spent plenty of nights standing in 7/11’s at 3 in the morning, or mixing all kinds of weird concoctions that you asked for.

Pickles and ice cream, a Banquets Salisbury Steak dinner, a whole raw onion— you could go on and on.

Massages and bubble baths became a nightly routine for you as well—as Neil insisted. Even closing up the store earlier so he’d have time to cook you dinner.

You thought about these moments as Neil coddled you close to him. Even with all these wonderful things he’s done, there was never an expectation for repayment or a favor due. You simply being his wife, the mother of his child was more than enough.

Neil pushed back the strands of hair that clung to your forehead, you just knew you looked like a mess.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He consoled you as the tears started to build up, you were exhausted and your pregnancy hormones haven’t exactly worn off yet apparently.

“I know it’s been really hard on you since I’ve been back at the store, but you have been doing such an amazing job.” Neil said softly, running his thumbs over your damp cheeks and kissing the top of your head. He wrapped you close to his chest; the damp patch on your shirt now soaking into his.

He cupped your chin in his hand and tilted your head up to look at him.

“You’re the best wife anyone could ask for.” He said earnestly, his gaze passionate and affirming. He always told you this and it never got old. Butterflies would swoon in your chest at the sound of him calling you his wife. It felt like most days you were lucky just to have him.

“But you’re right, this isn’t a job for one person..” He shifted and pulled himself closer to you so you were both eye level.

“Let me take off just a few more weeks, so you can get a break.” He tried reasoning with you but you were having none of it.

“Neil you can’t, you’ve already taken off more time than you should. John and Lucien need you, the store needs you.” You objected. This wasn’t the first time you’ve both have had this conversation.

“They’ll be fine,” he insisted. “Plus I miss you and the baby so much, every minute I’m counting down till I can see you guys next.”

Neil’s words made your heart grow fonder but the answer was still no.

“Neil—“ you protested and finally he caved.

“Okay, okay well at least let my mom come and help, she loves you guys so much and I know she wouldn’t mind.” He offered.

“Are you sure…? I really don’t want to bother her-“

“I’m positive. I can call her tomorrow.” He assured and you pondered over it for a minute. It was a no brainer really, so you agreed.

“Okay..” you relented, nodding your head while he held it in his hands.

“Yeah? Okay.” he nodded with a big goofy smile on his face. He placed a passionate kiss to your lips before peppering your face with little pecks. You laughed, already your dampened mood brightening. He always knew how to cheer you up.

Carefully, he placed himself between your legs, pushing himself up so he was leaning over you. One of his hands traced your hip as he stared down into your eyes.

Your hair had been pulled back into a bun except for the few stray pieces, you had slight bags under your eyes and now even more the milk stain was obvious.

“You poor thing..” He purred, as he took you in.

“Overworking your body to take care of my child..” He brought his hand up to trace your cheek lightly.

“I think it’s time you let daddy take care of you.” He whispered against your ear, making the room grow steadily hotter and hotter.

You looked into his eyes, basically swimming in them as his pupils grew wider with each passing second. He was ready to dive in, to pamper and devour all in one.

Before you could say anything, his hands crawled up your wasted shirt and cupped your enlarged breasts. Every chance he could he’d have his hands on them. Rubbing, groping, licking, pinching—all of the above. It was only lately where you couldn’t stand them being played with and it was driving Neil insane.

You winced and grabbed his wrist, urging him to stop.

“They’re sore.. please.” You begged and Neil leaned down to place another kiss to your hand.

“I’ll be gentle.” Neil assured and went back to what he was doing. He slid the shirt over your head, lifting your arms and slipping it past your head and shoulders.

His hands gently wound their way around your tits, pushing them together and watching as the milk dribbled out, just a little, just enough for a taste.

“Neil—“ you whispered in distress and he shushed you lightly. He craned his head and scooted down so his hard on was pressing up against your heat.

“They’re so full.” He admired, his eyes taking mental shots at the sight of them. He had been touched starved for the past three months, his body basically itching to be close to you.

Since giving birth you’ve both been either too exhausted to be intimate or too busy. Any other chance he could though, he was rubbing himself against you or fondling you. Each time being met with a giggle and swatting him away, or him finishing in his pants while you laid there and encouraged him.

He couldn’t help it though, when it came to you he was a depraved man. Never getting enough of you—truly insatiable.

You watched him as he slowly licked the circumference of your nipple, lapping up the droplets of milk like he was dehydrated. You gasped seeing him relish in the taste and latch his mouth to the bud.

It started slow, his mouth kitten licking and prodding, never using his teeth no matter how badly he wanted to nip at you.

Soon though his focus was completely centered around your tits. His eyes fluttered shut and soft moans escaped his lips, vibrating around it.

It still hurt of course, and not necessarily in a good way. It was painful for him to even touch them but you enjoyed seeing him like this so much that you fought through it. You carded your fingers through his hair and tugged lightly, knowing he loved when you did that.

That elicited a whimper from him as his eyes snapped open and softened when he met your gaze. Your pupils equally the size of saucers as you stared down at this wonderful sight in front of you.

Neil’s lips latched tighter and gently he started to suck, keeping his eyes on you the entire time as you gasped at the feeling—the pull.

He brought both hands to your breasts as his hips ground into your clothed heat. He had one focus now, and it was drinking every last drop of you till you were spent.

“Fuck, Neil,” you whined, finding all of this oddly pleasurable. This was most definitely new, sure he had sucked on your nipples before but he’s never drank from them.

You watched his eyes roll to the back of his head, his breathing labored, body hungry for more. You watched a droplet of milk spill from the corner of his mouth, his throat swallowing, basically gulping down as much as he possibly could.

He pulled off just enough to take a breath, and move to the next one. The one hand that wasn’t being occupied holding your tits in place, slithered down and slipped past your pants and panties, finding a goldmine of wetness waiting for him.

Neil moaned and looked up at you to watch your reaction as he brought two digits to your clit. Moving in slow, diligent circles and making you squirm as you pressed your body up into his fingers. It’s been a long three months for the both of you.

“Does that feel good, mommy? Do you like when I touch you like this?” He teased, making you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop yourself from whimpering.

“Y-Yes.” You choked out, slowly losing your mind to his aggressive touches.

Neil licked at his milky lips, savoring the taste before he pressed them to yours, forcing you to taste your own creation.

His tongue tasted sweet, like cantaloupe juice, and you wondered if that’s what it really tasted like. Neil pulled back and smirked at you, his fingers still working you into a frenzy.

“Tastes good right? Tastes so fucking good.” He moaned and finally couldn’t take it anymore. Without even consoling you, he yanked at the hem of your pants and underwear, shoving them down your thighs and passed your ankles.

You clung to yourself now, not entirely used to your post pregnancy body being put on display. Neither of you has made love quite like this in a while.

“Fuck baby,” the words slipped right off his tongue like melted butter. He pried your arms back and hungrily kissed at your chest, slowly making his way down.

His movements were quick and passionate, diving into your body like a sweet dessert. He kissed down your stomach, leaving a trail of spit behind, stopping close to your abdomen and just loving the feeling of your bush rubbing against his chin.

“You just taste so good— I can’t help myself.” He mouthed at your supple skin. His hands still trailing behind him, groping and fondling at every inch of your skin.

“I needed this. I needed this so bad baby, you have no idea.” He whined and his lips trailed over your inner thighs. He wanted to take his time with you, to make you feel good, and he would even as his own erection was pressing harshly against his jeans.

He latched his mouth to your dripping cunt, the warm, wet heat calling out to him, begging to be licked clean.

He did just that, filling the room with lewd slurping sounds as a mix of your moans blended together perfectly. You almost forgot about the sleeping baby in the other room.

“Neil, the baby is sleeping, w-we have to be quiet.” You warned in between a gasp, his mouth mercilessly working you into a mind-bending orgasm.

He sucked especially hard and pulled off, making you clutch the sheets for dear life.

“Yeah?” He whispered to you, his voice low and raspy. Even in the dimming light of the room, as the sun started to settle; you could see him. His lips and chin were slick with your juices. It was like a scene straight out of a porno—a good porno, of course.

You nodded at him and swallowed hard, he wasn’t asking for clarification, he was challenging you.

“Well then we better be quiet, right?” He teased and you nodded again.

His hand gripped your breast and tweaked the nipple, little teardrops of milk spilling out onto his fingers. You winced slightly at the manhandling but let him continue.

“Here, try some.” He said, collecting some of it and shoving his fingers into your mouth. Just when you started to suck them clean, he slipped two fingers inside of you making you arch your back and moan loudly around his digits.

“That’s right, Mommy can take it. Mommy can take it real good.” He praised you and moved both sets of fingers in sync. You clenched around him hard when his thumb swiped up at your already aroused clit. Slow and steady at first but picking up speed quickly.

You mouthed obscenities around him as he continued finger fucking you and he just took it all in. Biting his bottom lip, he was at the precipice of his own desire. The fact that he could do this to you, the fact that he could drive you crazy like this.. it was his only purpose.

Neil became uncomfortably aware of how much clothes he had on shortly after and pulled away just long enough to slip himself free of his confines. You laid there, trying to catch your breath and trying to stop your legs from shaking.

You watched him flip back the buckle of his belt and yank down his trousers and underwear in one swift move.

You stared at his erection, making mental note that the tip was slick with precum, it made your cunt ache more than it’s ever before.

You reached for him in desperation and he met you halfway. Neil pulled himself on top of you and feverishly ground himself against you.

Slipping his cock between your folds, right against your clit and using your own arousal as his lubrication. He bucked into you, a deep growl escaping his lips with each thrust upward.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about this all week..” He confessed with his eyes closed.

“Every time I watch you put the dishes away or bend over to pick something up—“ he slid his cock roughly against your clit once again.

“—all I could think about was fucking you right then and there.” you mewled at his confession though you already knew he wanted to.

“I just want to fuck you over every countertop, rip your fucking clothes off of you and fill that pretty pussy of yours.” This desperate act of him humping against you was pushing you close to the edge, as pathetic as it was to admit. Again, it’s been a long three months.

“Can you imagine that? Us having another baby, your belly all big again—and god those milky tits getting bigger than ever.” He fondled at your breasts, making more warm milk leak from them.

His depraved words only brought both of you closer to the edge. You knew he wouldn’t finish this way, he liked it inside.

You moaned and arched your back with each drag of his cock down your sensitive bud, each movement only producing more and more lubrication.

Your fingers made lines of red down his back as you clawed. Each heave of your chests making the room grow stuffier and stuffier.

“Can you imagine that baby? Tell me how badly you want it.” Neil urged, his hips slowing down, adding more pressure every time he moved towards you.

“Y-Yes..” you said weakly. You were completely loss for words, you had no idea he was so into that. “I can—I can imagine that.” You croaked, which only made a wicked smirk form on his face.

“Just look you, poor thing hasn’t been properly fucked in months. Hasn’t had Daddy’s cock to come all over.” His words basically made your eyes roll to the back of your head. His never-ending teasing making your pussy twitch and physically yearn for him.

Neil felt it, oh he felt it alright and it only drove him more mad. “Ooh you like that don’t you? Why don’t you come like this. Come on, come for me.”

You went to object, opening your mouth to beg him not to make you come like this; like you were some horny teenager rubbing herself off on her pillow, it felt dirty and depraved—which you were by all means— but you wanted more, you wanted to feel him.

Neil stopped you, “No whining, just do it.” He insisted and you could barely contain the high pitched whimper that left your lips as your cavern squeezed around itself, desperate for something to latch onto as wave after wave hit your body over and over again.

You threw your head back and about halfway through your orgasm you remembered the importance of staying quiet.

Neil kept on rubbing his perpetually leaking cock up and down your clit till your thighs twitched and you became desperate to get away.

Now that your opening was slick and so beyond ready, he slowly slid in. Inch by inch, he filled your sensitive cunt. He relished in the feeling, the grip tight and still fluttering from your orgasm.

“Neil!” You gasped, not expecting the burn from the stretch that met you. It hurt, which was to be expected but this felt different compared to what you were used to. It felt like he was tunneling a hole into you. Splitting you but also igniting you in the best way possible.

“Fuuuck…” he drawled out, his eyes fluttering shut as he rocked himself slowly in and out, over and over again.

Neil knelt over you, his elbows slotted on each side of your head. He leaned in so his lips were just grazing yours, his tongue slipping out to swipe at your parted lips.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this—you have no idea how much I’ve missed this.” He said, emphasizing his words with deeper thrusts. “How much I missed you.”

You felt your ears grow hot as your arousal bubbled up again. It was a heat that was so indescribable and so delicious it made your mouth water. You nodded, your chest rising and falling, labored breaths leaving you.

Neil fell into a slow and brutal pace. You could feel every inch of him, every curve and vein as he fucked you into oblivion. The speed only made your head spin and you found yourself digging lines down his back once more.

“Oh my god, baby. You know how I love it when you do that.” He moaned for you, slotting his head in between your shoulder.

Each word made you wetter and wetter. Soon enough the whole room was filled with soft squelching noises. It only seemed to spur Neil on because in seconds he pulled back, sitting back on his knees and gripped your hips for support as he looked down at you.

“I could come right now.” He said, his glazed eyes roaming over your body. He watched the way his thrusts made your breasts move, watching them jiggle as little droplets dribbled down the curve of them and onto the sheets.

“I could fill you up so good, have you walking around the rest of the day with my come leaking out of you… but I can’t.” He resigned with a sigh and angled his hips slightly upwards before slamming into you full force.

The wind was knocked out of you instantly. Gasping and trying desperately to ground yourself you clawed at the sheets, inevitably pulling them loose from the tucked corners of the bed.

He was fucking you so hard you could hear the loose screw in the frame rattling with each thrust inward.

“Neil please!” You begged but you weren’t even sure for what. For him to slow down? For him to stop? Oh no, no, no—that just wouldn’t do.

“I can’t baby, not when I need to feel you come all over me. Need to see that pretty little face as I—“ He gripped at your cheeks for emphasis, making your jaw hang open and your lips pouty. He leaned over just enough to spit into your gaping mouth and moved your jaw closed so you would swallow it.

“—fuck you into this mattress.” He finished. You felt your chest tighten, all the muscles in your thighs and stomach seizing for a moment as another wave of ecstasy hit you.

His filthy words filled your ears like angels singing and you nodded along, your body already climbing to your next orgasm.

You would do anything he said in this moment as long as he kept doing what he was doing. If he wanted another baby—fine. If he wanted you to scale the Empire State Building—that’s fine too.

You felt pressure building up, like weights were being placed against the bundle of nerves inside of you. You knew you could come like this if he kept up his brutal pace but you needed more and well—Neil had no problem delivering.

He moved your legs so they now rested against his shoulders and leaned forward. He went impossibly deep and both of you let out an animalistic moan.

He sped up quick, sounds of his thighs slapping against yours echoing off the walls. He reached for your hand that was bunched in the messy sheets and placed it between your thighs.

“Touch yourself for me.” He ordered and you didn’t hesitate.

You brought two fingers down and started rubbing in rhythmic circles making the deepest parts inside your pussy start to twitch. Neil’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth hanging open as you watched him tremble at the feeling of you—at the sight of you.

You were so clearly everything to him, and having you like this—your knees to your chest, split open and fucking writhing underneath him.. He’d call it heaven—scratch that—better than heaven.

“I-I’m close.” You choked out, your voice growing higher in pitch as he continued pounding his cock deeper and deeper into you.

Neil’s eyes returned to you, meeting your lust filled gaze before latching his lips down onto your nipple and starting to suck again.

It felt like he was dragging every ounce of energy out of you. Purely sucking the soul out of you.

You brought your free hand up to his hair, latching on and gripping so hard onto his locks you thought you’d rip them out.

“Neil, Neil, neil…” You chanted his name. The bed shook with you both, squeaks and rattling, the sound of flesh meeting flesh. It was too good. Too raw. And there was little to no care in keeping quiet anymore.

“Yeah baby, keep saying my name. Let everyone know who fucks you this good.” Neil purred, removing himself long enough from your tits to speak and then immediately returning back to suck them dry.

“Fuck!” You gasped one last time as you clamped down on him. Everything tensed for a long minute and you swore you blacked out. A soft ringing filled your ears, toes curling beside his ear, thighs trembling.

Neil moaned loudly, his mouth full and vibrating around your sore and hardened nipples. There was pain and pleasure mixing like a lethal cocktail, making you spill all around him.

The base of his cock grew sticky and the wet sounds only amplified. His thrusts grew erratic but never lost their strength.

You watched Neil detach from your nipple long enough to see the milky liquid stain his lips. He gaped at you, mouth hanging open and breathing heavy. Hunger. Deep and vicious in his eyes.

“Tell me you want another baby.” He said in a strained low voice.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He ordered. You were surprised he still had the strength to tease you, to make you beg.

“I want it.” You said without hesitating. He was still fucking you through your sensitivity which was starting to make you squirm but he liked it that way.

“Say it again.” He demanded with desperation.

“I want a-another baby Neil.” You could barely get out as he slammed particularly hard into you.

“More.” He all but growled. You could tell he was there, right on the tipping age. He was always more.. demanding when he was close.

“I-I want another baby. Fuck—I love you so much, I’d do anything for you.” The words spilled from your lips without even thinking.

It was a drop of tenderness in an act that would surely get you both sent to hell if you weren’t already married. But it buried Neil, hammering in the last nail towards completion.

Neil stilled for a moment, his full body weight pressing down on you as his thighs shook against yours.

He gaped for a second, the room falling eerily quiet as his orgasm sucked the air out of him. He gasped loudly, “Fuuuck..” drawled from his throat.

You felt him flex inside you over and over again, the head of his member hitting your sweet spot every time a hot gushing dose of come spilled from it.

His hands gripped the back of your knees for support as he pumped the last bit of it deep inside of you.

You tried to catch your breath but under the weight of him, it was proving to be difficult. Before you could say anything though, Neil pushed his lips to yours.

Lazy, sweet and all tongue. He lapped at your lips and then pressed his tongue to the back of your teeth. You hummed into the kiss, pulling him in deeper by the back of his head.

You both laid there for a moment, lip locked and absolutely wrecked. You pulled away just to tell him that he was starting to crush you, but of course, just a second later you heard the crackles of the baby monitor next to you, and soon enough the baby’s cries could be heard.

Neil smiled down at you, that same goofy smile that had you hooked from day one. “I’ll get him, you stay here and rest up.” He said already pulling away and out of you.

“You deserve it.” He added, placing one last kiss upon your nose and turning towards the closet to pull out some fresh clothes.

You deserve it.

#holy moly this was a process #becs fics #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #cillian x fem!reader #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #READ THE TAGS PLS

250 notes · View notes

mikkomacko · 1 year

Text

Jersey Leeds

Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: Nico's balancing the playoffs and his pregnant wife who's due any day now.

A/n: This one got away from me and is now way longer than I intended. But it's so cute so I hope you all love it.

Typically, you're a very calm and easy going person. You don't go out of your way to make life difficult or feel the need to voice your every thought and opinion. Not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just not who you are.

Which is why you went along with the rule Nico had established after the regular season closed out. Your due date was growing closer and closer, a month turned to 3 weeks, and then 2 weeks, and then Nico was pulling his hair out trying to keep calm. He was about to captain his way through the post season for the first time all while trying to be a father for the first time?

At the recommendation of your doctor (and some online advice), Nico had kindly begged you to stay home for the playoff games in New Jersey. He didn't want you in such a wild and stressful environment, didn't want to risk you being around a crowd of fans that have been deprived of playoff hockey for years. It's their first season back in the post season after the rebuild, he'd told you, and he didn't know what to expect. The last thing he wanted to worry about was you and the baby somewhere in the stands while he was on the ice. Especially for a rivalry round against the Rangers. Things get out of control, he also said, what if something happened to you?

So you agreed. You spent the entirety of the first round in your apartment, eyes glued to the TV and hands on the overinflated balloon that was your belly as you watched Nico fight to keep his team in. He played well, enough to keep you from going stir crazy in the living room, but you knew he was thinking about you and the baby at home. Those 2 weeks turned to one, and it was evident in his struggle to find the back of the net that Nico was holding that due date on his shoulders, right on top of the weight of a tight series. If you being at home was going to ease that weight somehow, you'd do it.

But when game 7 found its way back to New Jersey, you couldn't do it.

"Nico you can't confine me to our home!" You argue, folding the white onesie in your hands "I'm pregnant, not imprisoned. If I want to be there I get to be there." You stack it in the laundry basket, picking up the next freshly washed and dried one.

He's set aside his iPad where he had been watching film from last night's game, the screen now dark as he turns his attention to you.

"Love," he sighs, running a hand through his overgrown hair "you know how much I want you to be there. I always want you there, but this is a whole different game now. You don't know what the fans are like and I can't just let you walk into somewhere you might not be safe."

Safe. Lately everything has come down to you being safe. It wasn't any concern before now. You'd gone to every Rangers game, every Flyers game, and every high tense game before that. The organization and the fans know you, they respect you because at the end of the night you're the one taking their captain home just to send him back the next morning. You'd never felt unsafe or unwelcomed at the Rock before.

"I'm just as safe there as here," you respond, still plucking your way through the pile of baby clothes "I've been there before, I'm known there. That's my home just as much as it's yours."

Nico sits up from the headboard, pushing his iPad even further away as he too grabs a couple of bibs and socks from the pile of clothes. He's silent for a moment and you look over at him to see that he's simply holding a pair of baby socks in his large hands, lips pursed in thought. You know he's picturing the tiny feet that'll wear those socks, thinking about how they kick at his hands when he holds you and talks too loud, when he presses his own stomach into yours so he can kiss you and the butterflies that rush through your body tickle at the baby too. You know he's worried, it's his thing. He's always footed too much responsibility, even when he doesn't have to.

"I know it is," he looks up at you, brown eyes gentle and warm but tinged with fear "and it'll be her home too. But it's not yet, and it definitely won't feel like home when hundreds of blue shirts pack in there tomorrow night. You know how these games are normally baby, and while our fans take care of you, I can't promise anything else for the others."

He folds the socks together, tossing them towards the basket with a half-hearted flick of his hand. You pick the pair up and set them in with the rest, handing him the little tee-shirt in your hands. Jack had gifted it to you a week after you told the team about the pregnancy.

"Don't you think the captain should have his family there?" You prod, softly as you watch his lips twitch into a smile at the shirt. It's got the smallest little Devils logo on the front, a C stamped on the shoulder and when he flips it over to look at the 13 and name on the back you notice the way his bottom lip rattles with emotion.

"We'll get there early and stay in the box the whole time. The other girls will be there, I'll stay towards the back and I won't leave until you or someone from the team comes to get me afterwards." You promise, and while that may sound a little dramatic, you don't mind. In fact nothing sounds better than sitting in those plush chairs watching him play while the caterers bring you food and drinks. The only time you'll have to put your swollen feet to work is to go to the bathroom.

Nico runs his thumb over the white letters spelling out Baby Hischier, and you know he's given in by the slow flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks, the smallest bit of hesitance as he thinks this might be the wrong decision but what the hell?

He folds the shirt, pushing himself up from the mess of sheets and you bite back a grin as he rounds the bed to you. A smile has fought it's way onto his face, crinkling at his eyes and sinking dimples into his cheeks. God you hope the baby has that smile of his.

You reach out for him, hands finding his chest before running up to wrap around his neck. He grips the sides of your belly, drawing you closer to him until your belly button is brushing against his abdomen.

"You don't go anywhere without security," he murmurs, right hand coming up to push a strand of hair away from your face. "no dropping into the store during intermission because you wanted something last minute for the baby. And absolutely no trash talking. These fans are fist happy and I don't need you pissing them off even if you're just defending me."

You can't help but laugh. It wouldn't be the first time you'd passionately defended him in the crowd or taunted a fan after he's scored. He knows you so well. You'd never do that now, you know to keep a low profile but it's sweet that he thinks he needs to remind you.

"I promise baby," you swear, sealing it with a kiss and he cups your face to bring you in even closer. "I just want to be there for you. We want to be there for you."

His inhale is uneven, a small tremor of fear or maybe anxiety or even excitement. Maybe all three but it does nothing to wipe away the smile on his face and so you kiss him again, laughing when you feel little hands and feet nudging against his palm on your stomach. Nico keeps kissing you, trailing his lips over your cheeks and nose as you giggle again, and he presses his hand even further into your stomach.

"Yes," he huffs playfully, looking down at your belly "you girls won, I know. I'll get used to it."

You stayed as low-key as possible. Simple all black clothes, casual and comfy shoes, minimal makeup and tucked your hair up into a Devils hat and hair clip. Nico appreciated it, slipping his bracelets onto your wrists before he left and giving you a kiss after he reminded you of the rules and precautions and emergency numbers for people at the arena.

The other girls had been notified of your playoff debut and swore up and down that they'd have your back, just as you'd always had theirs. You rode in the party bus with them, hands over your belly as you laughed and caught up with everyone. You missed them lately, and a part of you was heartbroken that you didn't get the first full playoff experience with them. Even the jackets, which you'd ordered and distributed to everyone, were a jab in your emotional heart because you didn't think to get yourself one. At the time you knew you'd be staying home for the games and it didn't seem worth it. Seeing it hang in your room knowing you'd never wear it would be just awful so you didn't bother.

A part of you now wishes you had, and you could almost cry about it if you weren't so excited for the game. But when the bus rolled up to the arena and the lights came up, your happiness at being back was nothing compared to the wave of emotion that took over when the girls pulled out a giant gift bag.

It was red and sparkly, your name written on the tag in a very familiar font. You pushed aside the black tissue paper, eyes welling with tears as you pulled out the black leather jacket. The name Nico had given you last summer and his number, surrounded by bright flames. You unfolded the jacket, swiping at the tears on your cheeks while the girls laughed and cheered. A white card had fallen into your lap, the message simple and sweet.

Knew you'd need it eventually

You didn't need a signature to know who gifted you this. The writing itself was clear but the special signature on the sleeve topped with a heart instead of a 13, said it all. Nico only signed with a heart when it was addressed to you. From that first receipt at the bar you met at after he bought your drinks, to the flowers he'd had delivered to you a few weeks ago just because, that same signature always topped it off.

That's what comes to mind when he takes the ice, finding his spot on the blue line for the national anthem and you holler with the rest of the fans, tucked into the jacket he got specifically for you. The Rock is electric, every fan on their feet and every towel in the air. You keep up for as long as you possibly can but your feet quickly grow sore and tired, so you settle into a seat with a plate of food. At least until you get too into the game and jump back up to cheer with the rest of the girls.

Intermission is spent taking pictures for Instagram, showing off the jackets once again and thanking the artist. You answer texts from family and friends wishing you and Nico good luck tonight, letting you know they're tuning in to watch. An ice cream helmet and a churro are delivered to you courtesy of the security guard Nico has requested follow you at all times, and you enjoy the snack for the entirety of the second period.

With the Devils up 2-0 you feel pretty good. Nico was right, you didn't know what a playoff crowd was like and while it's overwhelming, it's also heartwarming. You can't help but think of how happy Nico must be, how much he deserves this. He's done his best all season to carry the weight of being captain of a team that's constantly left behind and forgotten. The Devils are always the underdogs, and at the front of the pack is your boyfriend, trying his best to build them up into contenders. His first point of the night is a step in the right direction, and you hope he's pulling himself out of the rut he's been in. Maybe you're just superstitious but you convince yourself it's because you're at the game.

As the minutes tick by, you grow even more happy about attending tonight's game. If you're lucky it'll even relax Nico into letting you attend round 2, and hopefully more rounds after that. But you're getting ahead of yourself.

In fact, you don't really have time to think about the next round at all because the baby's begun kicking around in your belly. At first you're amused, making a mental note to tell Nico that he's going to have a hard time keeping his daughter from the rink. But as the girls take turns feeling her kick, the sudden sharp pain in your spine and release of pressure between your legs makes you freeze.

The game grows forgotten, the food and laughs and pictures given up on. There's nothing else to think about except the fact that you are going into labor and your husband is unattainable on the ice below you.

Nico has just stepped down the tunnel when he's stopped by personnel, not even around the corner and to the locker room yet. Someone's holding a phone out to him, urging him to take it and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. Why are they looking at him like that? With those hesitant smiles and nervous eyes. He knows it's about you, it has to be and the fact that you're not down here yet let's him know something's wrong.

He rips off his helmet, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi my love!" You greet, a little breathless but cheerful. Nico doesn't care whose phone he's got, he takes it with him towards the locker room. Why are you calling him?

"Hey darling, what are you doing?" He ignores the other boys, sitting down in his locker and untying his skates. You're not giving him any reason to be nervous but he has a feeling he should be. "Are you down here yet?"

He can hear someone else talking with you, their voice muddled through the phone but he imagines it's one of the girls. "No I'm not going down to the locker room." You carefully say "I actually already left the arena."

It's then that he recognizes the sound of a car radio and the rumble of the highway. He can feel the others looking at him, wondering why he's on the phone and already stripping out of his gear instead of celebrating with them.

"What do you mean you left?" He asks, toweling through his sweaty hair. "I told you to come down here."

Someone honks on the other line. "I know I know, but I need you to stay calm when I say this Nico."

He freezes, heart pounding in his chest but trying his best to not let it rattle in his voice. "What happened? Are you ok?"

By now Jack has picked up on the call, slowly inching towards Nico's stall with questioning eyes. "I'm fine. The baby is fine. We had a great time. So much fun that she kinda decided she wanted to watch it in person."

Nico's head spins. "What? What do you mean?"

"My water broke," you say and Nico's tossing the phone to Jack, ripping off his jersey and pads.

"Ask her how long ago." He instructs, and he hears Jack greet you before asking the question. You must talk to him for a bit because he's mouthing things and holding up fingers as you go. Nico continues to tear through his gear, half-heartedly wiping sweat off as he goes so he can get dressed.

"Five minutes left in the third," Jack recites back to him. "She took the bus here with the girls so Clare is driving her and they're about 2 minutes from the hospital."

Nico tugs on a pair of shorts and shoves his feet into the sneakers he left in his locker this morning. "She's asking that you please shower before coming here because she knows you smell awful."

He wants to laugh, knows she's teasing him to try and calm him down. It doesn't work. All he can think about is how you're in labor, that your water broke and he wasn't there to help you to the car or drive you to the hospital. He throws on a shirt, taking the phone back from Jack.

"Already dressed, I'm not showering." He's shoving things into his duffle, unsure of what he even needs or should take with him. He at least has the right sense to grab deodorant and cologne from his stall.

"Nico it's not that bad yet." You say on the other end of the phone. "Really you have the time to shower and do media-"

"Media?" He interrupts, "You're not fucking serious? I'm going to the hospital so I can be with you, not talking to the press."

He digs his keys and phone out of the side pocket of his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. He's still got the phone to his ear when he turns back to Jack. "You're on media tonight. Don't say a word about this and call me afterwards."

Jack salutes him, eyes shiny and smile wide. It's then that Nico realizes the whole room is watching him excitedly. Biting back a laugh he address you again.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes. Text me if you get into a room ok?"

"Ok Nico."

"I'll see you soon love," he says quietly, wanting to keep the sweet moment between you two. You return the sentiment, wincing slightly afterwards and he knows you're starting to feel those contractions.

"Hey," he calls before you can hang up. "Don't have that baby until I'm there."

"You got it Cap."

He hangs up, not knowing what to do with the random phone he's been given until the employee that handed it to him is shoving into the room. He quickly gives it back, double checking his pockets for everything just as reporters begin to pour into the room.

"Well boys," he finally addresses the team, looking around at their expectant faces. "We fought hard, we came out on top. And we can do it again later but for now..." Jack has found his way to Nico's side, gripping his shoulder and shaking him excitedly. "I gotta go have a baby."

Hoots and hollers bust out, Jack kisses his cheek and shoves him towards the door. He receives more taps and shoves as he goes, everyone wishing him luck as he prepares for the biggest moment of his life.

Nico's fully aware that he looks like a mess. Disheveled, sweaty, gnawing at his bottom lip as he rushes into the labor and delivery lobby. A man in scrubs spots him before he can reach the counter, obviously recognizing him.

"Hischier?" He asks anyway and Nico nods, unsure if he answers around the trembles of his breath. "Right this way, don't worry you haven't missed a thing."

That eases him a bit, enough that he's not breathing down the man's back as they disappear down a long hallway, one left turn, two right turns. Nico finds the room number you'd given him earlier immediately, almost shoving the man out of the way to get to the door. He thinks he apologizes or maybe says excuse me but the only thing running through his mind is seeing you, being there with you.

You're pacing the room when he walks in, one hand on your lower back and the other rubbing circles over your belly. Clare is standing by the side of the bed, watching you like a hawk and Nico feels better knowing she was there. His entrance draws your attention from the TV in the corner of the room, eyes meeting his and your face immediately lights up. He moves to you before you can even take a step towards him, hands reaching up to hold your flush face.

"Why are you up? Are you ok?"

He searches your face, looks for hint of agony or worry but only finds your beautiful eyes and swollen lips. You place a hand over his, laughing softly.

"I'm ok. Still dilating but it feels better to walk." You say. "I sit down for big contractions, I promise."

Nico trusts you, backing away to thank Clare for taking care of you while you continue to move about the room. She leaves to go meet Ryan, promising to check in on you in a couple hours before disappearing out of the room. He perches on the end of the bed, watching you on the edge of his seat in case he needs to get up. The TV is showing highlights of the game tonight before cutting to the locker room just in time to see Nico give his goodbye speech to the team.

Eyebrows raised, you look at him expectantly.

"What?" He asks, defensive.

"You most definitely had time to shower." You say, waddling towards him. His hands find your hips, chin tilting up to look at you just in time to see you dramatically scrunch your nose at him.

"Not a good first impression on your daughter Nico, she's going to think you're stinky all the time."

He laughs, reaching up to move a piece of hair that's stuck to the sweat on your neck. "I have clothes in the baby bag, I'll change my love."

The relief he expected to see on your face is instead one of panic. Eyes wide, mouth dropping open and you squeeze his shoulders.

"I forgot the baby bag!" You wail, throwing your head back in frustration. Nico jumps to his feet when your whine turns to a wince, your hand dropping to your stomach. He carefully turns you until you're sitting on the bed instead, one hand crushing his as you breathe through a contraction.

He waits for it to pass before digging his phone out. "It'll be fine, I'll have Jack stop and get it. The car seats already in my car, nursery set up." Nico brushes your hair back in again, inhaling and exhaling calmly with you. "We're ready for this."

You take another deep breath, eyes not leaving his and he's tries his best to look reassuring.

"We're ready," you repeat quietly "we're having a baby and we're ready."

Two hours later, after countless swear words over tearful cheeks, her hand squeezing the life out of Nico's, and a little bit of wooziness on his part, Nico's met his daughter.

She's a tiny little thing, only 6 pounds and 9 ounces. Her fingers and toes scrunched, eyes pinched shut under blonde eyebrows but after only a couple cries, she lays on your chest with a smile. And when he leans in to kiss you, blubbering something about how much he loves you and how precious she is, her little nose scrunches in distaste. Maybe he should've showered. It ends up not mattering though because she still recognizes his voice, especially when he says sweet things in German to her, and her little head tilts towards him, hands wiggling around like she's trying to find him.

As soon as she's swaddled he's taking her, cradling her to his chest in the gentlest but safest way he can. Nico's never thought of himself as impossibly strong but she's so light and so small he's afraid of holding her too tight and hurting her.

You watch him fawn over her while you get cleaned up, brushing out your hair and sponging away the sweat and blood and goop. Nico presses his nose to the top of her head, right where little strands of blonde hair have dried, and takes in the smell of her. Her faces scrunches at him again and he wants to go change and wash up so she'll stop looking at him like that but he can't bare to put her down. Even after you've settled back in the bed and the nurses have cleared out, Nico knows you want to hold her but he still takes his sweet time handing her over.

You look so sweet, so motherly when you hold her to your chest and softly stroke over her cheek. His chest alights with warmth, spreading throughout his veins and his eyes sting with happy tears. He wants to remember this forever. He fumbles for his phone, fingers shaky as he snaps a picture of you smiling widely at her. You look up at him, eyes wet with tears but so unfathomably happy and you say, "she has your nose Neeks."

She does, he realizes, taking in the sharpness of it. Your nose doesn't look like that and while his is a bit different after breaking it, hers is so similar to his. And her blonde hair, just like him. Before he'd grown up, he too had pin straight blonde hair. He imagines her with his eyes too, big and brown, seeping off warmth everywhere they look. He thinks she's so beautiful and he hopes she has your smile because that has to be his favorite thing in the world.

Perfect, his baby girl is perfect.

Nico leaves you two alone, fishing out his clothes and the baby wipes from the bag before disappearing into the bathroom. He does his best to wipe down his body with them, wanting to hurry back to his girls but in the end decides he should just rinse off in the shower there. He forgoes the hospital body wash and conditioner, simply washing his matted hair because he wants her to know what he usually smells like, not some cheap unmarked bottle stuff. He should've asked Jack to grab his bathroom stuff but it's too late now.

Toweling off and redressing in sweats and a t-shirt, Nico combs his fingers through his wet hair and let's it air dry. He put on more deodorant, forgetting the cologne because what if she doesn't like it or has some kind of reaction to it? No he'd rather her think he smells bad.

You let him hold her again when he comes back, moving over so he can squish on the bed next to you and this time when he presses her to his chest, she leans into him, lips smacking quietly as she settles in comfortably. He laughs, shaking his head because she's unable to utter a word but he already knows she's got your same little attitude.

"Nurse came by, said the boys are about to break down the doors to get in here." You say quietly. Nico laughs again, decides he should probably go get whoever's gathered out there so he hands her back to you.

"Wait," you stop him before he can get to the door, "hand me the baby bag please."

He fishes it out from the little storage closet, setting it on the end of the bed and helping you dig through it because he knows you're tired and sore. You pull out a little black beanie with a glittery Devils logo on the front, removing the pink one they put on her head and sliding the new one on. Nico tucks everything away again, taking just a second to look at you and her. You beam at him.

"She's very proud of her dad."

Nico kisses you, a real kiss this time instead of those mushy pecks he gave you earlier. Then he presses a flittering kiss to her head, promising to be back soon before he leaves to gather Jack and the others.

The lobby is packed with hockey players, squished onto the couches, hugging their knees on the floor as they chatter quietly. Nico overhears Jack talking about seeing them earlier, poking fun at how nervous Nico looked. He sneaks up behind him, grabs him by the shoulders and Jack jumps, whirling around to look at him. Nico laughs, not even getting a chance to say anything before his friend is jumping at him. He wraps his arms around him, beaming as the others rise to their feet and join in on the hug. They're all shaking him and patting his head.

"How are we feeling captain daddy?" Wood teases, ruffling his hair. Someone pinches his cheek, comments on his puffy eyes and he shrugs it off.

"Feeling like I just had the best night of my life." He admits and they cheer again. Nico gets them all to settle down and split into to two groups. He doesn't want to overwhelm you or the baby and he doubts he can bring in 15 people. The first group calmly follows him through the hall and to the room, all of them growing quite as they lightly tread into the room in a line.

You smile at everyone as they come in, the baby still cradled to your chest and Jesper is the first to tip toe over, a bouquet of balloons and a teddy bear in his hand. He sets them on the tray next to you, looking at Nico nervously.

"You can say hi," Nico chuckles and you motion Jesper closer, instructing him on how to cradle her. She barely fusses as he holds her, eyes widening and he smiles giddily at Nico. Seeing her in his arms draws the others closer and they set up a stack of cards next to the balloons, Timo settling in the chair next to you and asking about how you're doing. Jesper slowly walks down the line, letting everyone look at her.

Dawson gets a glimpse at her before his head shoots up to look at Nico. "She looks just like you!" He exclaims, loud enough that the baby stirs in Jesper's arm and he freezes. Nico laughs, walks over and reaches in to smooth his thumb over her scrunched nose. She settles back down, but Jesper's freaked enough that he eagerly hands her off to a wide eyed Jack.

"Poor kid," Jack teases, "hopefully she gets her mom's personality or she's screwed." But tears have welled in his eyes and he's staring at her so enthralled that Nico knows Jack already loves her. In fact, they're all looking at her like she's made of precious gems.

Trusting them to be careful, Nico takes Timo's seat next to you. You reach out for his hand and he holds between both of his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"You've got a good group there Captain," you say, looking over as Jack shows Woodsy how to hold her head. He grins, unbelievably happy and content in the moment. He hasn't even had a chance to think about the fact that he's moving on to the next round of the playoffs yet. But all that matters right now is his family. He can think about the game later.

"She's already got them whipped into shape." He murmurs, laughing when Woodsy moves a little too fast and she gurgles unhappily, halting him. Dougie scolds him, taking her from his arms with a disappointed shake of his head.

Jack comes over, squishes himself into the chair with Nico even though it means he's sitting half on his lap. You laugh when he wiggles his hand in alongside Nico's, fingers holding both of yours.

"Congrats mom and dad," Jack says, "I've been waiting for a baby sister. All I got was Luke."

"Where is Luke?"

He snickers. "I left him at home."

You gasp but laugh, releasing their hands to shove him. Nico shakes his head, knowing he's going to have to text the younger Hughes brother and let him know he can stop by whenever he wants.

Timo's the last to meet her, blowing little kisses at her and smiling. "Hey little captain," he whispers, just loud enough for Nico to hear. "hope you like it here because you just got stuck with the whole team."

You and Nico look around, notice that everyone is still squished around Timo watching her. They're like moths to a flame following her, inching closer to the bed when Timo hands her to Nico. Jack moves over, perches by your feet so Nico has room to hold her and be close to you.

"You didn't tell us her name," Dougie says, looking between you and Nico. The two of you had been stuck between two different names but now that she's here the decision is clear. Nico was hesitant of it at first, thought it'd be too cliche or something but she's decided for herself.

"It's Jersey," you say with an amused smile. What other name could you give the baby that had done summersaults in your belly during games and decided she wanted to join the world during her father's game and has the whole team smitten with her.

"Jersey Leeds Hischier." Nico adds and the boys all soak it in, tease him a bit for being so sentimental but he doesn't care. This is his home, it's given him everything, and no matter what happens next round or next year or in ten years from now, he wants to remember everything Jersey has given him.

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils fic #nhl fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

captainofthedauntless · 6 months

Text

I cannot stop thinking about how much Leo would adore domesticity help

Fuckin.... dishes. Cleaning the table after a family meal, his family in the next room all happy and full, and seeing you wash a plate off in the kitchen, and he just implodes a little. Any time you offer to clean up he's right there with you, wiping up crumbs and collecting dirty lasagna dishes from the stove and packing up the leftovers. It's like meditation and a little like cocaine, he thinks, the way he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of the way you look doing something so normal. He's microdosing on a normal life, and then you crack some dumb joke neither of you will remember in five minutes but he'll remember the warm, bubbly feeling that goes with his laugh until the day he dies.

Laundry, too. Folding your towels so you don't have to, thinking about how nice the warm, soft fabric feels on his hands, thinking about how much it feels like your smile. Looking up at you from across the pile of freshly-dried clothes and trying to match the way you fold your shirts and letting out a sheepish laugh when you try not to laugh yourself at his attempts.

Straightening up, scrubbing surfaces, organizing clutter, fucking cooking (which is a whole other post)- he just eats up every second of it, because it's safe. It's calm and comfortable. You're letting him into your life or helping him with his, you're taking care of a problem together, you're a team, you're his partner.

And when you let him help you? You're tired from work or dealing with a flare up or depressed or overwhelmed and you let him break down the boxes littering your floor and pick up the dishes that seem to multiply every time you blink? You trust him with your things enough to let him take over part of your to do list? His ass is in heaven. He hates that you're not yourself but he fucking loves feeling useful and he wants nothing more on this planet than to be useful to you.

Then he's hit a wall some time, right, he's exhausted and stressed and can't take one more instance of bullshit or he'll just crumple like a tower of blocks, and you offer to take care of some task for him. Maybe it's just making his tea or maybe it's putting equipment away in the dojo or maybe it's being an extra set of hands for Donnie in the lab so Leo can meditate instead. And this man feels it physically. It's like a hot bath or that perfect stretch after he wakes up. You put a hand on his shoulder and he looks at you and you smile, and say I got it, and he gets hit with such a strong wave of I love you that he has to take a second to get himself together.

In summary Leo's an acts of service bitch and in this essay I will-

#leonardo #leonardo x reader #no because like. he's too stubborn to let you take care of things so you'd have to Insist. but even so #*headcanons #*writing #2014 #2012 #2007 #2003 #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2007 x reader #tmnt 2003 x reader #x reader

357 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 9 months

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Another day, another slay. Here is the next chapter of Sublet, hehe. I'm so excited for you all to read this, Aemond is such an asshole but god he is so FINEEEE <3 It's a long one... Enjoy! P.s Aemond is listening to this song: Lovers From the Past - Mareux

Chapter 5: Sīkudi Nopāzmi (Seven Hells)

Cregan left yours after you had relaxed for a time, had some breakfast in the quiet of the apartment together, and yet another round of his fingers pressed into your core.

It was, all things considered, a perfect way to start your day.

And whilst you basked in the afterglow of the evening and morning, and the content and joy that your not so subtle friend with benefits brought you, you decided to spend the rest of the day cleaning and tidying the apartment.

You turned on your speaker and let your music play through it loudly as you did a full clean down.

Usually, Helaena and you would spend your Sunday’s doing this together, glasses of wine in hands, or sometimes, if Aegon dropped it over, a nice spliff.

It wasn’t until the late afternoon that Aemond returned.

The kitchen was freshly wiped down, all cups and bowls put away in the cupboard. The lounge and dining you had spent a meticulous amount of time dusting and fluffing, not at all because you had nervous energy racing through you at the thought of his return. You had even had time to change and wash your sheets, putting on a nice smelling candle in the lounge room to really finish the job.

And then, there he was, in all his lean fury, stood in the hallway that you just mopped and vacuumed in his stupid trainers, dressed head to toe in his jogging gear.

He still had his AirPods in.

You were in the lounge room, dressed in an oversized shirt, probably looking crazed as you had been dashing about the apartment in intermittent song and dance as you cleaned, and there he was, back inside and watching you.

You felt a blush spread across your cheeks but swallowed the feeling of shame. Why should you feel any shame at all? It’s your home. He is the one living here. Besides, it's not as though he doesn’t totally have sex himself. It would be complete-

“Wheres you friend?” Aemond asked, eye looking behind you.

You blanched.

So now he was talking to you?

“Went home.”

Aemond hummed, eyebrows lifting before he carried on through the hall, still with his stupid shoes on, and disappeared into Helaena’s room.

What the fuck?

“Take your shoes off at the door!” You called out to him, irritation pulsing through you.

You didn’t want his dirty outside soles all over your nice clean floorboards, and some nerve he had to ignore you and then come back asking questions.

No, ‘Hey, how are you?’

‘Wow, the house looks so clean! Thanks!’

‘How was your day?’

Nada.

You were almost in the right mind to call Helaena and bitch about her brother to her, and beg her to come back, or at least take him from your hands like an unwanted pet.

It was not long after he went to his room that you heard him enter the bathroom, the sound of the shower carrying through the door. You decided to go back into your room and fold your laundry that you had washed and put it away.

Each fold of your clothes you tried to rationalise his behaviour. Tried to make excuses for it even, or explain it all away. But eventually you came to the conclusion that perhaps Helaena just had a soft spot for her brother, and that he was just another breed of Aegon.

Another douchebag.

Your only hope was that there was only a few weeks to go. And if you could survive living in a hostile environment for that, you could survive anything. Besides, Helaena and Daeron seemed pretty keen for you to go to the Keep and see them for a few days, so that was always on the cards.

Or you could stay at Cregan’s if you really needed an out.

You hoped it didn’t come to that.

Gods, how long was he going to be in the bathroom?

You felt sticky from cleaning all day and wanted to shower yourself and get into some pj’s.

Making plans to order some pizza before your shower so that it would arrive when you got out, you walked to the bathroom door and knocked.

He better not have used all the fucking hot water.

To your surprise, Aemond didn’t call out from inside, instead, he opened the door wide, steam curling behind him as he stood in just a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. Water dripped from his wet hair down his bare chest and onto the floor below.

Your mouth felt dry, and you could just see the barest imprint of his-

“Can I help you?”

Your eyes snapped up to his, feeling a deep blush settle on your cheeks and a warmth in your gut.

No.

What the fuck?

He’s an asshole.

Down girl.

Making a point to keep your eyes on his, you stepped back, feeling all too close to the Targaryen man.

“Are you going to be long? I want to take a shower.”

Aemond’s lips twitched in the barest of smirks, “Sure, bunny. I’m done.” And with that, he brushed past you, his damp arm sliding against yours as he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

You blinked at the door.

Bunny…

...

He had heard.

Embarrassment creeped through you as you rushed into the steam filled room, almost slipping on the wet tiles and slamming the door shut behind you.

Aemond had heard you and Cregan.

But why did that make a spark of arousal bloom inside of you?

Something was seriously wrong with you.

You quickly ordered your pizza on your phone, paying for it and noting the estimated delivery time.

Stripping off your clothes, you turned on the shower and jumped under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over your face and hair, scrubbing each and every inch of your body, spotting the small bruises that littered it from Cregan. Most of all, the mottling of purple across the flesh of your ass.

You bit your lip as you washed it carefully, enjoying the sting and the memory of his hands.

By the time you got out of the shower and had done your skincare routine, hair being pat dry with your towel, you trudged out of the bathroom in your pj’s and made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink.

The pizza came not too long after, and you frowned at the delivery person as they handed you two boxes of pizza. You were so confused, checking your phone again to see the order, “But I only ordered one?”

The teenager shifted on his feet impatiently, “It was a two for one deal today? You got a pizza for free.”

“Oh. Thank you.” You gave the boy a tip, and turned back inside with two boxes of pizza.

Aemond hadn’t come out of his room since he went in, and well, you had two pizzas, it would be a waste of food if you didn’t offer him some.

Even if he didn’t deserve it.

You walked over to his door, and could hear music playing inside (Lovers From the Past - Mareux). With the pizza boxes balanced in one hand, you lifted the other to knock on the door.

The door stayed unanswered, and so you knocked again, this time hearing a grumble from behind. It swung open, and Aemond stood, hair still slightly damp on his shoulders, clad in only grey sweat pants. He raised a brow at you, eye flicking to the pizza boxes and then back to your face.

You wished he would put on a shirt.

“There was a two for one deal, so there’s a box if you want one.” You explained, then remembering how he thought the snack plate last night was for him, you didn’t want him to think you were going out of your way again, “I didn’t know the deal was a thing. They just dropped two boxes at the door.”

Aemond raised a brow as if to say he didn’t believe you.

You huffed, “Alright. I’ll put it in the fridge then.” You turned on your heel to walk away and heard a chuckle from behind you.

“So grumpy.” He breathed under his breath, just teasing enough for you to hear it.

Your fingers tightened around the boxes as you refused to turn around and marched straight to the lounge room, dropping onto the couch and flicking on the television angrily. You looked at the second box of pizza, and thought about putting it in the fridge for him later.

Fuck it.

He can starve.

At best, he gets salmonella.

Leaving the second box unopened, you curled up on the couch and turned on your favourite show, munching on the hot pizza, the cheese warm and stringy on your tongue. A weight settled beside you, and you turned your head slightly to find Aemond sitting on the couch next you, reaching out to grab his box of pizza to eat.

You tried to not give him any notice, or even sneak a glance at the man, who still sat shirtless beside you, one leg tucked up on the couch as he ate. You bet that if you looked down at his grey sweats you would be able to see the imprint of his-

“Did you clean the apartment?” His voice cut through the air.

You gave him a hum in response.

“You working tomorrow?”

Another question?

You turned to face him, “No. It’s a Sunday tomorrow.”

Aemond took another large bite of his pizza, a long string of cheese being pulled taut by his stretched hand, which he pulled into his mouth with his tongue.

You swallowed thickly.

“How long have you and Craig been together?” Aemond asked, eye on you, tongue darting out to lick any remaining sauce that lingered on his plush lips.

You let out a short huff of a laugh, “It’s Cregan. And we aren’t dating.”

“An ex then?”

Why was he so interested in Cregan?

“No.” You said slowly, “Just a friend. He’s Sara’s brother. Helaena used to date her.”

Aemond hummed in recognition of Sara’s name, but then his lips pursed forward, “Just a friend.” He parroted, a smirk pulled on his lips.

Turning to face the tv, you took another bite of your pizza before swallowing, “Yeah, friend. Do you have any of those?”

The silver haired man laughed quietly, “I have enough.”

You hummed back.

Gods, you sounded like him.

You both continued to eat slowly, letting the sound of the tv surround you for a while longer.

“Seems nice.”

There it was.

You snapped your head to your roommates brother, glaring at him, “He is. Why are you so interested in him?”

Aemond smirked deeply, closing the box of his finished pizza before he stood to put it in the kitchen recycling bin, not answering your question.

You huffed, feeling entirely irritated by the whole scenario.

You watched as he came back out of the kitchen, his gaze on you. Your eyes roamed down his chest, spotting a tattoo on the side of his ribs, some sort of sword. And then your gaze went lower, spotting the tip of an inky black tattoo that sat on his hip bones, the muscles of his V leading down to-

Gods damn him.

Those grey sweats.

What was it about them that you made you so feral?

Sensing your sudden shift, Aemond poked his tongue in his cheek, as if he was debating the next words to come from his mouth. But then they came, and you were left to sit in the lounge room alone with the knowledge of what he knew.

“Goodnight, bunny.”

Fuck.

The next day Aemond’s demeanour seemed to change completely. He left the house before you woke, going for his morning jog as always, and so you got the morning to yourself to have a quiet cup of tea and cigarette at the kitchen window.

The sun was rising to its peak by the time he got back, and you were seated on the bench next to the window, blowing the smoke outside and sipping on your tea. You had expected when you heard the door open that he would retreat to his room as he always did and hide away like a recluse.

But this morning, Aemond surprised you.

Instead of seeing a blur of silver and black down the hallway, Aemond turned to the kitchen, giving you a small purse of his lips in greeting. His hair was tied back in a low bun, though small strands of silver hung around his face. His t-shirt was stuck to his chest in patches from his sweat, and the small black nike shorts he wore revealed the toned muscles of his thighs and calves.

“Morning.”

You blew a puff of smoke out the window, “Morning.”

Aemond stepped in front of you and you tensed, unsure, looking up at his face as he looked down at you. Then in one swift moment, he reached above your head, pulling down a glass from the shelf, hips brushing your knees as he moved to the sink to fill himself a glass of water.

You watched as he brought the glass to his lips and drank deeply, watching the way his throat bobbed and his lips were slightly wet, the cup almost completely empty by the time he took it away, but his eye immediately found yours, catching your shameless appraisal.

“You’re staring, bunny.”

There it was again.

That name.

Something only Cregan called you when you were locked beneath him writhing in pleasure, or on top.

You felt heat rise up your chest, “Don’t call me that.” You frowned, and Aemond smirked, humming before leaving the kitchen.

You jumped off the sill, stubbing the cigarette out on the brickwork outside before dumping your mug in the sink.

You needed to get out of the house. And so you opened your phone to call a friend who you knew you could vent to.

The phone rang three times before the melodic voice of Sara Snow came through the speaker, her Northern accent thick through the phone, “You right?”

“Hey to you too, Sar.”

Despite her and Helaena’s obvious love for each other, and the consistent on-again-off-again game of avoidance the two had, there was no denying that you felt safe and trusted around the woman. It had been a while since you had spent time with her, and the other day was just a reminder of all the good times you have had.

Besides, the rest of your friends were away for the break.

“What do you want?”

You laughed into the phone, “Charming. I don’t know what Helaena sees in you.”

Her chuckle was heard in the back, “It’s definitely not my glowing personality.” She said suggestively.

“Alright enough of that. I’m off limits.”

“Who said you were even on?”

You shook your head, “What are you doing today?”

You heard Sara shuffling in the background of the phone, “Obviously seeing you, considering you’ve called.”

Grinning, you made your way to your room and began to flick through your closet to choose an outfit, “I need a drink. Or three. Maybe five.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Sara teased, “Is my brother the cause of this need to see me? I don’t mind if it is, I love a good bitch.”

You pulled out a slinky black dress, chucking it on your bed as you found some knee high boots to match, “Not Cregan, no. I can’t say much right now about it,” You mumbled into the phone, “But I need to get out of here.”

Sara let out the highest of pitched squeals as she realised who it was that you were trying to escape, “Oh my god, I knew you two would go head to head. Helaena said I was being judgemental. But girl, have you heard their phone calls? The North is warmer than that man.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, you gonna help me or what?”

“Say less, babe. Meet me in the Silk Lanes.”

You sighed, “Sara we aren’t going to a strip club, it's the middle of the day.”

“You’re a buzz kill. But no, didn’t mean that. There's a new bar that’s opened up on the strip. They have live music sometimes. Cool crowd too.”

You hummed, looking down at the dress, “Fine. What time?”

“See you in an hour!”

She hung up before you could even respond.

You dressed yourself and headed to the bathroom put on some light makeup, do your hair and pair the dress with some nice gold jewellery, including a pair of earrings Helaena had given you a Christmas or two ago.

Grabbing a small bag, you left, not sparing Helaena’s shut door a glance, swiping up your keys and making your way to the train station to go and meet Sara.

The trip wasn’t a long one, and before you knew it you were making your way down to the Silk Lanes, passing strip clubs, brothels, and bars along the way.

It was a cool area that was sure, but at times, more male dominated.

You kept waking, unsure of where you were really going until a low whistle was heard behind you. Spinning around you spotted Sara, who stood in a short halter neck denim dress that hugged her curves, and brown cowboy boots.

She looked hot.

“Damn, Sar. I can see now why Helaena keeps you around.”

Her green-grey eyes roamed over your body, taking in your dress. You spun on the spot, breezing your hands over your hips in a seductive way.

“My brother doesn’t deserve you. You ever get sick of him, I'm sure theres room for a third.” She smirked, looping your arm in hers as she started to lead you down an alleyway, a flickering red sign that read ‘Sīkudi Nopāzmi’ over an old brick wall, and busted green door.

You would have walked straight past it.

You blinked up at the lettering, brows furrowed as you tried to use what basic High Valyrian you had learnt many years ago in High School.

“Seven Hells?” You looked at Sara.

The dark haired woman smirked.

The inside of the bar was dark and dingy, exposed brick walls, low candle light and sultry music playing. The overall vibe was sensual, brooding, and mysterious.

You couldn’t help but think of a man who reminded you of it.

Sara left you at the table to grab you drinks, coming back to place a Porn Star Martini in front of you, small shot of Prosecco placed beside it. You took the Prosecco and drank it back, not wanting it to mix with the sweetness of the martini.

Sara raised a brow as she watched, bringing her dirty martini to her lips to sip.

“So, what has your knickers in a twist?” She twirled the stick of olives with her black fingernails.

You glared at her, sipping the martini again, “I live with a recluse douchebag.”

“That bad, huh?”

You sighed aggressively, finishing your martini and standing to go get another, “I need another one of these before I begin this shit. And you’re going to need one too.”

By the time you had both drunk your fourth martini, you begun to feel the anger roll off of you in slates with every story you spat.

“Class A Asshole.” Sara nodded, laughing at your retelling of his reaction to thinking you had made your plate of snacks for him, “I can’t believe he heard Cregan fuck you.” She threw her head back laughing, and you let yourself laugh too.

“You should have seen him run out the door in the morning, didn’t come back the whole fucking day. But get this,” You leant forward, tipping the rest of your martini into your mouth.

Sara leant on her elbows looking at you, eyes dancing in delight.

As you opened your mouth, two new drinks were placed on the table in front of you by the tall bartender. You both looked up at him confused.

You hadn’t ordered another drink.

The bartender was handsome, hair cut close to his scalp, dark skin, with bright golden eyes that smiled down at you before flicking his head to a table at the far back.

“From that table over there.”

You and Sara looked back, seeing two men who raised their drinks up to you in a salute.

Sara burst into laughter, looking back at you, “Should I tell them they’re not my type?”

You shook your head giggling, “No! I want more free drinks.”

Giving them a coy smile, you raised your drink in salute back.

“Anyway, get this.” You continued your story, sipping the drink as you winked at the men behind you.

Sara’s eyes lit up as she sipped her free martini.

“He keeps calling me bunny.”

Sara’s dark brows pulled at the centre of her forehead, “Bunny?”

You smirked, “It’s what your brother calls me.”

Her face scrunched up, sipping the drink, “Ugh. I don’t want to know.”

You chuckled, “Well its important to the story, so suck it up. Aemond must have heard it, because now he won’t stop calling me bunny. It’s driving me insane.”

Her red lips pulled into a knowing smirk, “Insane, huh?”

“Oh no.”

“I see what’s happening now.”

“Sara.”

“You want to fuck him.”

Shit.

You sipped your martini heavily, not answering the woman in front of you. You were definitely tipsy by now, borderline drunk. You picked up your phone, screen lighting up.

It was already 5pm.

Sara was leant back in her chair, cool smirk on her perfectly lined lips, “I mean, I can’t blame you. There’s a reason they have ancient rumours of the Targaryens being Gods.”

Your eyes widened.

“What? I love Helaena, don’t I?” The words slipped out of her lips before she could take them back, blush creeping on her cheeks.

Now it was your turn to grin.

“Oh no. No. Shut your mouth.” She warned you, skulling the rest of the drink.

Your smirk grew wider, “You love her.”

Sara looked around the bar, trying to find a way out or distraction.

She found none.

“No. We are here to talk about you and your problems, not mine.”

You hummed, the noise reminding you of the silver haired nightmare waiting for you at home, “Fine. But I won’t forget that you just said that.”

Sara rolled her eyes, raising her hand to hail the tall bartender again, ordering the pair of you a final drink.

“We are going to have our last drink. Discuss how you want this hulking, smouldering man to fuck you silly, and then you are going to go home and jump his bones so I don’t have to hear your complaints ever again.”

You opened your mouth widely at her in shock, “You fucking bitch.”

“You love me for the honesty. Besides, Helaena wouldn’t tell you how it is.”

You smiled.

She was right.

Helaena definitely would put more fluff around the words and be sweeter about it, especially since it was her brother.

After finishing your drinks, laughing and talking about Aemond and how he irked you, whilst describing the ways you wished to shut him up by keeping his mouth busy, you both decided to call it a night early with time to have dinner.

You kissed Sara on her cheeks as you walked through the Silk Lanes together and back to the train station. You would be getting the same train, and off at different stations. When it came to yours, Sara was still sitting as you moved to get off.

“Give him Hell, bunny.” She smirked, and you rolled your eyes at her.

The walk home was short, but as you walked, you couldn’t help but think on your friends encouragement.

Why should you let him give you shit?

Why are you letting I’m proverbially piss on his territory?

You had a sudden urge, aided by the drinks, to do as Sara commanded.

The keys missed the door twice before you finally got it in the hole, twisting open the handle and throwing the keys unceremoniously into the dish at the door. You didn’t even bother to take off your shoes as you marched straight to his room.

You didn’t even bother knocking, swinging the door open with a forceful shove, eyes meeting the shocked and almost alarmed one of Aemond.

He sat laid back on the bed, those stupid grey sweats on his defined thighs, the subtle bulge there and prominent in the grey of the cotton. Your eyes roamed his body with no shame, oggling his bare chest again as you felt heat settle in your gut.

There was a singular lamp on beside the bed, and Aemond had a book open in his hand as he looked up at you through his lashes.

He raised a singular brow.

Your hands sat on your hips, immediately feeling defensive, “What?”

Aemond scoffed, “You’re in my room. You tell me, bunny.”

You blushed, “I told you, don’t call me that.”

He sighed, shutting the book in his lap as he leant lazily into the pillows, one long finger stuck between the folds of the pages. Your eyes strayed on it a moment more than they should have.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He sounded bored, impatient, with undertones of annoyance.

But the way he rolled your name off of his tongue sounded more like a purr.

Damn him.

“Come join me.”

Both brows shot up on his face, the scar on his eye crinkling, before they settled again, cool face watching you, “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“No.”

Aemond smirked.

“Forget it.” You snapped, turning around.

You heard the bed behind you shift and the soft padding of feet behind you. Aemond followed you into the lounge room and sat on the couch, legs stretching out onto the coffee table as you tried not to sneer down at him.

“Is this a house meeting?” He joked.

“No. This is a ‘get to fucking know the person you’re living with’ meeting.”

You watched as Aemond’s lips twitched, battling with the smirk that was pulling at them. He pursed them at you instead, and you didn’t know whether or not you wanted to slap him, or bite them.

You crossed your arms against your chest, jutting a hip out, feeling the warmth of all those martinis flowing through your body, “Why do you hate me?”

It was Aemond’s turn to frown, “I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you such a dick?”

“A dick?”

You hummed back at him, turning to bend over and get a large pot out of the cupboard in front of him. You had drank your fair share, and if you were being honest, you were drunk. Not tipsy like you had thought, and you knew that you had an early morning with work, and needed at least something in your stomach to sober you up.

You made quick work of filling the pot with water, turning your head back to look at Aemond who watched you under a hooded eye.

“What’s your deal anyway?” You twisted back, settling the pot on the stove to boil the water, grabbing a bowl from above.

“My deal?” He parroted again.

You sighed, pulling a packet of instant noodles from the pantry to put the sachet packet in the bowl, “Tall, brooding, ‘devil may care’ attitude. You have this general disdain for everyone around you.”

“Brooding.” Aemond hummed.

“More annoying than anything, really.”

“Hm.”

You rubbed your face roughly, pointing at your bag which had been thrown on the couch when you entered, “Pass me that will you?”

Aemond simply lifted a brow at you, staying in his spot, until you emphasised your pointed hand with a flick of your arm. The man stood, bringing it over to you as you waited for the water to boil.

Digging through your bag you pulled out your cigarettes and rolled one messily. It would do.

You leant out the window and lit the smoke, Aemond watching you amusedly from beside. You took the first drag of the cigarette, giving yourself an immediate head spin.

You shut your eyes and blew out the smoke, a small groan falling from your lips.

“I would like to live under a roof where my patience is not questioned at every moment, and I’m not faced with a living and breathing hermit. It’s hard to believe you’re Helaena’s brother.”

Aemond moved to look down at you, leaning on the opposite end of the window, his long fingers reaching out to you, asking for a drag wordlessly. You looked at his hand, eyes narrowed as you lifted the cigarette to your lips again, ignoring his request, his hand still held out to you.

Persistent asshole.

Blowing the smoke out the window, you gave him the cig, watching as he slowly brought it to his own lips, wrapping around it gently as he inhaled, eye on you the entire time.

You shifted where you stood.

“Maybe you should ask some questions, bunny.” He breathed, holding the smoke in his chest before blowing it out.

“Fuck off.” You snatched the cigarette back from him, your fingers brushing against his.

He was so warm.

Aemond chuckled from deep in his chest, a quiet rumble that was as smooth as silk.

Fuck.

“Well,” He began, looking out the window, “I’m Helaena’s brother.”

“No shit.”

“Well if you’re not going to ask questions-“

“-Will you even answer them?”

He pushed his tongue into his cheek as he thought.

“That's what I thought.” You dumped the lit smoke on the window sill and moved to put the noodles in the pot, stirring it once over, “Can you at least pretend to be civil? If not for me, for Helaena?”

You turned to face him again, your cigarette at his lips as he watched you. He gave you a curt nod.

“Why did you leave Harrenhal?”

The question caught the both of you off guard, and you watched as Aemond retreated into himself, face turning to stone and eye narrowing. He blew the smoke slowly out the window, taking his gaze from you to lean out the sill with both elbows.

The tension floated over the two of you, and you suddenly felt bad for asking. You knew about the break up. Helaena had told you it had been really bad, but still, he didn't need to take it out on you.

You stirred the noodles again, watching them swirl around in a circle before opening your mouth to apologise, but Aemond beat you to it.

“You still got some of that wine?”

You blinked, slowly inhaling, “I have something stronger?”

“Hm.” Was all you got in response as Aemond leant over you, stretching a long arm up to grab a glass.

You ducked down to rifle through the cupboards.

There, at the back, was a bottle of whiskey your ex had left behind. Not at all something you would usually drink, but the bottle alone was worth a small fortune, and so you had kept it.

Small mercy’s, you supposed.

Aemond took the bottle from you, inspecting the label as the edges of his lips tugged down.

“Didn’t take you for a top shelf whiskey girl.”

“You don’t know much about me.” You paused, watching as he uncorked it, grabbing a handful of ice from the freezer to dump into the glass before he poured the amber liquid on top, “It’s not mine.”

“Your friends?” He teased.

“My ex.”

Aemond flicked his eyebrows at you and stirred it once in his hand, moving back to the window to grab the forgotten smoke. The man didn’t reply, opening the floor to you if you wanted to elaborate, and you felt like if you told him a little bit about you, then maybe he would open up.

You turned the stove off, straining the noodles into the bowl, chucking the fork inside, mixing it all together. Bringing the bowl to balance on the windowsill, you curled the fork around some strands, blowing air on it to cool it down.

“Textbook narcissist.” You began, watching as Aemond tilted his head towards you to indicate he was listening, bringing the golden drink to his lips to sip deeply, muscles in his shoulders rippling.

“Caught him cheating on me, and then he had the gall to blame me because I came home early.” You shook your head, “Should have seen him though, face like a smacked ass. Can’t have your cake and eat it too.” You huffed, eating some of your noodles.

“Sounds like a keeper.” Came his smooth reply, taking another sip.

“She thought so. They’re still together.”

You ate your noodles quietly, letting the silence wrap around the two of you. It wasn’t that it was uncomfortable, you just didn’t know what else to say at that time.

Aemond opened the floor again, “Does he have a name?”

“Jason Lannister.”

Aemond turned his whole body towards you, mouth agape, “You dated the ‘Knob from Casterly Rock’?”

You whined, “It was dark times, okay? Character development and all that shit. How do you know him?”

Aemond scoffed, flicking the finished cigarette out the window into the darkness, “Hard to not know him. Always on campus, flouting mummy and daddy’s money.”

You snorted, “That’s rich. You’re literally a descendant of royalty. You own a castle. If anyone has mummy and daddy’s money it’s you.”

It was obvious this was a topic that was a definite no-go-zone for Aemond by the way his face and posture tensed, stomach flexing in the shadows of the kitchen. He threw back the last dregs of the whiskey, putting the glass down harder than what was needed.

“I take it you are making it on your own like Helaena, then?” You treaded carefully, trying to circle away from your comment before.

“I'm sure you'd take it any way you'd like.” His eye was narrowed on you, and the way he spoke made it seem as though he wasn’t talking about your thoughts on the matter.

You swallowed dryly, leaving the last of the noodles to be forgotten.

And then he continued, “I take what is owed to me. But I am not Aegon.”

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head, feeling the pull of sobriety in the back of your mind.

"You know Aegon tried to hit on me once?" You smirked.

Aemond made a noise to suggest he wasn't surprised, eyebrows raising in slight amusement.

"Called me a Gazelle." You mused, "Long legs apparently." You kicked a leg out in show, still clad in the long boots.

Aemond scoffed, "Aegon will say anything to anyone to try and fuck."

"And here I was thinking I was a catch." You teased back.

Aemond stood close to you, and you could smell his cologne, matched with the smell of whatever soap and conditioner that he used. But you couldn’t help but notice the undertones of just him.

Earthy.

Musky.

A large finger tapped on the glass as he looked at you in thought, gold ring on his pinky hitting the side with a tink.

“Harrenhal has nothing for me anymore.” His voice low and deep, as he watched you, “Kings Landing offers more. Finishing my degree. Friends.” His eye roamed up and down your body. Even in your boots, he towered over you, “More.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to race in your chest, heat settling in your gut.

“How so?” It came out as almost a whisper.

Aemond’s eye became half hooded as he looked down at you, humming as his tongue flicked out of his lips as he watched you, wetting the already parted plump flesh, just begging for you to reach up and capture them with your own.

“What are you asking me, bunny?” He asked, voice gravelly, filled with something.

You blinked, “I told you, don’t call me that.” You breathed.

He smirked, “Then what should I call you?” His hand reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact sending sparks down your body.

You tried to steel yourself, suddenly sober, “My name.”

Aemond huffed, seeming to come closer to you, “Always so sharp.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

The silver haired Targaryen hummed again, “I think… it’s all a show this defiance.”

You furrowed your brows, feeling anger begin to crackle in your chest.

“I think,” He leant forward, staring at you intently, “Under all this…” His hand caught the skirt of your dress, rubbing it between his fingers, “You just want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

Your core clenched, and you bit down on your lip to stop the small whimper that wanted to escape your mouth.

The corner of his lips quirked, another satisfied hum rumbling in his chest.

An affirmation that he was right.

And he knew it.

His face came closer to yours, tongue darting out to wet his lips again as he watched you, your thighs rubbing together subtly as you looked up at him.

Heat travelled up and down your spine, his scent surrounding you as he looked at you. The violet of his eye slimmed as his pupil widened, his chest rising and falling jaggedly.

The change in demeanour made your head spin.

Your eyes dropped down to his lips as you breathed jaggedly, and it felt as though a rubber band had been pulled taut between you.

And then, it snapped.

Aemond pulled you forward, a clash of teeth and tongue, the taste of whiskey on his mouth as he curled his tongue to the inside of yours, one hand grabbing your waist to pull you against him, the other, tangling itself in your hair.

You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your hands around his shoulders as sparks of arousal lit up inside of you. A large hand skimmed down your waist and cupped your ass, squeezing it in his large palm as he groaned into your lips, teeth nipping your bottom lip roughly.

You ground against him and mewled, standing on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss, nails digging into the bare skin of his back as you pulled him to you. His hand delved lower, cupping just under your ass beneath your dress, fingers teasing against the line of your underwear. You rolled your hips forward feeling the hardness at the front of his sweats press into your stomach.

"Aemond." You sighed into his mouth.

He grunted, running a finger up your clothed folds, feeling the dampness that had begun to seep into the material. You pulled back, staring up at him, mouth agape and breathless as his finger pressed against your bud from behind, arms wrapping you against him.

His violet eye was swallowed whole by his pupil, iris almost black with lust. His lips were swollen and pink, and a lone strand of hair had fallen away from the perfectly tucked manner he had it behind his ear.

His lips twitched as he looked at you, chest rising and falling, staring at you with nothing but animalistic lust.

It was as if cold water had been doused over you.

This was Helaena’s brother.

What were you doing?

Shame and guilt flooded you in an instant.

You couldn’t step back from where you were, pressed against the bench of the kitchen with him caging you in. All you could do was squeak a small ‘good night’ at the man, ducking beneath his arm who watched in confusion as you all but ran and hid in your room.

Fuck.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @lilitheal @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @hey-lucille @wintrr13@arcielee @hueanhdang @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @inkwingswrites @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries

Bold is who I cannot tag

572 notes · View notes

angelshimaa · 5 months

Text

━━ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 — little domestic things with them

⤷ feat. deku, kirishima, iida and shinso

✧ cw :: gn!reader, fluff, no dialogue, they just wanna spend the rest of their lives with you <3

✧ a/n :: really enjoyed writing this :)

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 adores doing the laundry with you— or rather, he enjoys folding freshly cleaned clothes with you. you definitely have to teach him how to fold properly, but he's a fast learner and has it down pretty quickly. he finds comfort in the simplicity of the task and in the idle conversations the two of you engage in— taking trips down memory lane and sharing stories of times before each other. he loves the laughter floating in the air when you tell him your favourite childhood stories while his hands busy themselves with one of your favourite sweaters, and he pretends he's hearing it all for the first time when you repeat one without knowing.

there's intimacy in getting to know of the you before him, and how pieces of them still exist within the you he adores so much. you find izuku simply beautiful when the nostalgia swims in his eyes as he shares his own stories, and you're sure he has no idea. all that's on his mind is getting to live through more stories to save for this time spent with you, and getting to love you through every single one.

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 adores the way you take care of his hair. on days when he's tired or just wants you to do it— because nobody does it better for him than you— he asks so softly you can't find it in you to not want to. it's an intimate affair, the way he exposes his overgrown roots to you and allows you to touch them up, even though it's merely temporary. it's so much more than a simple dye job at times; it's him allowing you to see tangible proof of him at his weakest, in the private space of your home, and it's you showing him love in how gently you apply the needed products and wash them out when it's time to. he loves how you gaze down at him when you're done, that beautiful smile of yours playing on your lips when you make comments of how lovesick he looks gazing back (he never says a word— you know by now how lovesick he’ll always be)

regardless of how goofy or tender the atmosphere is, he thanks you the same way every time; with a gleam in the red of his eyes and a smile plastered on his face. you show him he's welcome when you give him an upside down peck on the lips, and eijirou finds himself looking forward to next time and the falling even more in love with you with each re-dye.

𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀 adores reading to you. on a slow, lazy day or just before bed when he's catching up on his reading, your presence as he reads makes it all the more enjoyable. whether your head lays on his lap, his shoulder, or his chest when you're on top of him, you're always touching in some capacity— it's grounding while he recites stories of another world. when he catches you looking up at him, so lost in the rhythm of his voice, he can't help the tender smile curling his lips and he often pauses to kiss your forehead. the small smile you usually give him in return has him wanting to spend the rest of his days like this, where time passes as slowly as he's content.

whenever he ever hears your breath deepening, growing even as you drift off to sleep, tenya closes his book and puts it down before gently tucking you into bed (if you've fallen asleep on the couch, he carries you to bed). with a final goodnight forehead kiss and a soft wish for you to have lovely dreams, tenya decides to call it a night for himself too, holding onto the bliss of doing this all over again tomorrow.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎 adores being in bed with you. he loves it best when the heavens pour, the grey the rain comes from sullying the sky. it mutes the day just right, turning down everything else besides your existence in the little island of blankets and pillows. it's the whispered good mornings coming from voices thick with sleep that makes him feel so very tender, as well as the light chuckles following the detailed descriptions of both your dreams. if you're lucky, you can catch the softness pooling in the purple of his eyes at the idle chatter you share, and the small smile on his face because of how beautiful you look. for some reason, you don't seem to believe him fully when he tells you this, so he hopes you can feel it in the way he looks at you.

there's warmth and there's you under the sheets, and there's no leaving early with hitoshi’s limbs lazily weighing you down as best as they can, pleading for five more minutes before you start your day. five minutes easily fades into ten, which turns into fifteen, and you can't find it in you to mind with how adorable he looks with his hair all messy.

hitoshi can only hope that loving in your little world, with every single minute he adds onto it, grows to last him more than a lifetime.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

taglist (complete this form to join) :: @maeby-cursed @katsukismrs @himikoslove @pasteldaze @afairywithacrown @moonshuul @https-spacekay @k0z3me @frannky @sweeteaas @niktwazny303

349 notes · View notes

benkeibear · 1 year

Text

⋆꙳✧༄ My king

❖ Character: Barou

❖ Reader: genderneutral | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 1.2k

❖ Summary: Barou lost a match and is frustrated- you help him relax in the best way possible

❖ WARNINGS: sub!reader, degradation, no prep, unprotected sex, creampie, spanking (like once or twice), reader getting called "slut", Barou taking out his frustrations on you (consensual)

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | thank you @kazutora-lover for listening to my random ass ideas in the middle of the night. You made this come true.

You had just finished folding the freshly washed laundry when Barou came back home from his friendly training match. The tension in his body didn't go by unnoticed by you as he walked in, a vein below his eye seemed to pulse from the frustration he held. When you went to greet him like you usually do and asked how the match went, he groaned “Just shut it” he barked at you, clearly not in the mood to have a conversation now. All you could do now was to watch him storm off into the bathroom to take a well deserved shower.

The loud noise of the door slamming shut made you wince, the walls almost shaking from how hard he punched the tiled walls in your bathroom. You knew very well that he could get upset, even angry after losing a match due to “the incompetence of others” but this seemed different somehow and it made you worry.

You decided to wait a moment to collect your thoughts and give him some time to cool off before you dared to approach the bathroom door, hesitating to open it as your hand rested on the handle. Barou was pacing around the bathroom, another punch rattling the walls of your home. When it got more quiet inside, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door, wanting to ask if he could let you in so you could wash his hair or take a bath with him - hoping this would help him relax.

The door got ripped open so suddenly that you took a step back in surprise, Barou, now standing in front of you as the anger clearly still radiated off of him. “What?! Out of my way” he hissed and you immediately made way. “Shoei… please calm down. Tell me What happened?” You asked with a soft voice, hoping it will somehow reach through that stubborn skull of his but it was to no avail.

Before you knew it he had you backed up against the closest wall to cage you in, so close you could feel his breath tickle your skin as he grabbed your jaw harshly so you would look at him. “You want to know what happened? We didn't win. Now get lost, I don't want to make you cry” he warned you, a dangerous glint residing in his eyes and it was the truth - in these moments he might say things he didn't mean. You gulped and nodded as much as his tight grip on you allowed it “but i want you to make me cry” you whisper, a little smirk dancing in your lips now and he immediately understood. Without much effort he tossed you onto the bed, his calloused hands manhandling you in ways he wanted to, groping at the tender flesh of your breasts before flipping you over onto all fours, your head buried in the soft pillows beneath.

The ripping of your clothes made your ears ring but he had no nerves to undress you properly “Gonna buy you new stuff” he grumbled, knowing how much you hated it when he ripped through your favorite pieces but he couldn't help himself - you were offering yourself to him like this after all. When he spread your folds to spit onto your cunt he chuckled “You're such a slut. Already so drenched and i haven't even touched you” he growled, growing hard from the view you gave him.

The next thing you could feel was the tip of his thick length pressed against your entrance before you felt it pushing past it, making you cry out from the stretch he gave you. You could feel how he struggled to push himself all the way inside, your walls gripping him like a vice which made him pant above you “‘s fucking tight” he hissed out, giving your plush ass a slap tp make you focus on something else and it was enough to push himself in all the way which made you gasp, the world spinning. A glance to your blissed out face, so short you almost missed it, gave him all the permission he needed to go on, always making sure to check for any signs of discomfort, no matter how lost he got - seriously hurting you was the last thing on his mind. You had no time to adjust to the cock buried deep inside of you before he began to fuck you in a rather fast pace while his grip on your hips was sure to leave bruises in the aftermath.

All you could do was to wail and moan into the pillows beneath you as his thrusts grew in power and his grunting got more animalistic above you. It was hard keeping yourself up since his thrusts pushed you further into the soft mattress until you finally ended up laying on your stomach. His grip on your hips didn't change however but with the way his whole weight rested on you made it feel so much deeper. “Such a good little slut, losing your mind over my cock” he moaned low as his grip changed to wrap one of his arms around your hips, angling them a title higher to kiss your cervix with the tip of his length at every thrust he delivered. “So fucking filthy, creaming over me like this” he continued his degradation. His words and the way he used you as nothing but his personal fleshlight made your head spin and your eyes water at the same time as your high washed over you like a wave of pure pleasure. The only thing you could do was to scream his name until it fell off your lips like an obscene prayer. “Let everyone know who makes you feel this good, angel” he rasped into your ear, making your hair in the nape of your neck rise. His pace faltered for a moment, becoming more gentle when he saw the tears roll over your cheeks but the way you moaned and tried to rock yourself against him so desperately to meet his thrusts let him knew that you're far from done so he picked his pace up again, his free hand pressing your head further into the pillows in an act to dominate you even more.

Two orgasms later, you were nothing but a babbling mess, a wet patch beneath your still dripping core forming as you kept whimpering “my king” unable to get anything else out of your pretty mouth while he shot his hot cum deep inside of you, to let him claim you as his. “That's right angel, i'm right here” he hummed into your ear before kissing your temple lovingly. His thrusts finally slowed down and ceased completely when he pulled out of you, watching a mixture of his cum and your juices leak out of your sore cunt. Without hesitation Barou scooped you into his strong arms “You were so good to me. Such a good little angel” he whispered when he saw that you can barely stay awake anymore.

Seeing you sleeping in his arms after he just treated you so rough made him chuckle to himself as he carried you to the bathroom to clean you up. You truly knew how to calm him down but he would never admit that you had him, the king, so tightly wrapped around your finger.

Network: @tokyometronetwork

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #barou x reader #barou smut #barou x you #barou shoei #blue lock barou #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk barou #blue lock x you

696 notes · View notes

realmennnnn · 6 months

Text

With Connor away on his 5-mile hike, you thoroughly clean everything in sight. You start with his laundry, including each of the glorious socks he had worn over the past week. You give all of them a brief sniff before placing them in the laundry machine. While sniffing, you become terrified that you may not have a single item of clothing to sleep with that night. You pray that Connor will give you the clothes he wore on his hike or at least his destroyed Nike sneakers to sleep with. Next, you clean the entire home, scrubbing every room and organizing any out of place items, including Connor’s massive stack of dirty dishes. You also spend a particularly long amount of time in both his mudroom and bathroom, using your tongue to clean his muddy footprints off the floor as well as all of his pee off the toilet. Afterwards, you give each of his sneakers a good cleaning, yet again using your tongue with impeccable detail while savoring each blade of grass and splotch of dirt.

With the first load of laundry done, you throw all of his bedding in the washer. You iron and fold each clothing item and can’t help but stare at his XL sized shirts, shorts, underwear, and socks once they’ve been perfectly cleaned and pressed. You recognize how lucky you are to even be in the presence of these items.

By now, it’s been three hours, and you’ve heard nothing from Connor. You become nervous that something may have happened but neglect to reach out since it’s not your place to bother your potential alpha. Instead, you move outside, mowing the entire lawn and weeding Connor’s select number of plants.

With sweat running down your entire body, you head back inside to make Connor’s bed with his freshly cleaned and pressed sheets. Finally, you head out of the house on your way to grocery store, dropping the trash into the necessary bin on your way out. You hope you’ll be allowed to wash his car tomorrow since you weren’t given access today.

Halfway to the store, and nearly five hours after Connor left, you receive a message from your Lord. “Hey, faggy. The lads wanted to do some day drinking, so I’m out with them. I’ll be home in a couple hours. You better be keeping yourself busy. By the way, pick up some dog food if you make it to the grocery store.”

You have no idea why Connor would need dog food. He certainly doesn’t have a dog. However, you refuse to question your master. You’re certain that if Connor says he needs dog food, then he needs dog food. He’s an alpha after all, so he knows best! You’re just happy that you had anticipated Connor’s desire for you to grocery shop.

As you enter the store, you couldn’t help but look at every possible item. You needed to make sure that you bought every item Connor could possibly want. You pick up six varieties of fresh meat and fish, a large helping of fruits and vegetables, and several hearty grains. Finally, you make your way to the dog food. As you look into your cart, you realize that you were likely to spend more than $200 on Connor’s food alone. You hoped he’d share some of his scraps since you hadn’t bought anything for yourself. With finances in mind, you went for the cheapest dog food possible, made with purely synthetic materials. After all, Connor didn’t have a dog, so you didn’t see a point in overspending on this item - your mistake.

After checking out at a whopping $275, you walk home, carrying an obscene amount of groceries. With four bags hanging off either arm and a bag of dog food wrapped between them, your body aches by the time you reach the grocery store parking lot! You walk as fast as you can, making it back to Connor’s house in roughly 25 minutes. You breathe heavily the entire way and nearly start crying. You remind yourself that this is only true since you’re a weak, pathetic faggot.

As soon as your home, you start your final chore of the day, cooking Connor’s glorious Sunday night meal. You realize he could be home any moment, so you get to work rapidly. You carefully put together a salad and start cooking a box of pasta. Then, you cut up even more vegetables, making a batch of tomato sauce from scratch. You don’t dare prepare a subpar dinner, and you know you must have it done on time. Connor comes first after all! You race to the finish line, hearing keys jingling in the door nearly 40 minutes later. With only the food done, you realize the dishes will have to wait until later, and you pray Connor won’t be upset.

You run over to the front door and drop to your knees. You bow your head as anticipation grows within you. You hope Connor will be pleased with your housework and cooking. Even more, though, you simply cannot wait to see your 6’3” and 220 pound master as well as his glorious size 13s. Connor steps through the front door, and you stare down at his beautiful sneakers and socks. They’re caked in dirt, and their pungent smell hits your nose with gusto. You’re immediately enamored and begin showering each sneaker with kisses, taking great joy in their scent and appearance.

Connor stumbles a bit and leans back against the door. He crosses one foot over the other and flashes a devilishly sexy grin at you. With his balance back, he steps around your weak frame. You can tell that he’s wasted and, as a result, likely highly sadistic. He drops his bag on the ground and makes his way to the couch. With such a hefty bang, you know the bag is full; you’re happy to know that his shopping trip was successful.

He lays back on the couch and turns his eyes toward the football game you had turned on for him. His sneakered feet dangle beautifully off the side of the sofa. He lets out a huge belch, and you wish you were next to him, giving it a sniff. However, like a proper fag, you wait patently by the front door for further instruction. He pulls his pants down on the couch, leaving them hanging by his knees. You look at his beautiful cock, remembering that just two days ago, you were afforded the privilege of sucking and riding it. He calls you over, using his fingers to gesture as well. “I need to take a nap, but I want my dick to be well taken care of while I’m asleep. Come over here and hold my cock in your mouth until I wake up.”

You crawl over to the couch and kneel in front of his crotch. You look up and notice that his eyes are already shut. You wonder if it would be proper to remove his sneakers from his feet. You hold off since he hasn’t directed you to do so. You wonder how sweaty his feet will be by the time his sneakers finally come off.

You crank your neck into an extremely uncomfortable position and wrap your lips around his cock. Your knees already hurt from the wooden floors, and you can tell that your neck will be in immense pain within minutes. You know it’s going to be a long few hours, but you also know you won’t get access to his feet unless you do exactly what Connor tells you.

As soon as your lips wrap around Connor’s cock, he lets out an ungodly amount of piss, made up of 100% beer. You hear him snicker for a second, laughing at the fact that you had no idea that his piss would be flooding your mouth. He knows you’ll do whatever it takes to swallow every drop. And, he’s right; per usual, you diligently swallow every single drop.

When he finishes peeing, you keep his cock in your mouth, the taste of leftover piss and dick sweat rubbing against your tongue. You take his balls into your mouth, and the flavors grow exponentially. “Good boy,” you hear Connor say. With that, you try your hardest to get comfortable, knowing you’ll be kneeling here tasting his funk and piss for hours to come - just as he asked you to do.

Connor doesn’t wake up once during his three hour nap but somehow lets out several large farts. You take pride in knowing you helped coax and keep him asleep. You also take enjoyment in the flavor of his dick funk as well as the smell of his farts. You can tell that those farts were inspired by an immense amount of greasy food and beer. They smell wonderful.

As Connor finally comes back to life, your head and knees begin to wobble. You can tell that your neck will be in pain for days to come. He reaches for his phone and starts scrolling. With Connor awake, you continue to hold his dick in your mouth but now count down the moments until you’ll be allowed to move. The anticipation of potentially being allowed out of your current position makes the pain grow ten fold.

For the third time of the day, piss starts filling your mouth, and you hope this will mark the end of your time as a human dick pouch. The piss tastes even more stale than the one from a few hours ago, but you revel in every second of it. Maybe swallowing piss is not only a godly blessing but also the purest indulgence known to a faggot.

“Get your mouth off my cock, faggot,” Connor says abruptly with his piss complete. “Time for some of that sauce you got cooking. The pasta better be ready. I ain’t waiting. Go make me a plate.” You’re happy to know that you planned appropriately for this evening.

He begins to sit up from his nap and nearly kicks you in the face. “I told you to get moving. Chop chop.” You give each sneaker another kiss and crawl to the kitchen. You hope you’ll be allowed to enjoy the dirt from his shoes as well as the foot sweat from his socks as he eats. After all, you haven’t consumed a single thing all day.

You stand up and pull the pasta out of the fridge. You place a heaping serving on to a plate, adding your homemade tomato sauce and salad on top. As you get back down on to your knees, you place the plate on your back as well as a set of silverware and a glass of water in each hand. As you crawl back to his feet, you keep your back and hands as straight as possible, refusing to let any food or water end up on the floor. However, you wouldn’t have minded being forced to lick it up. Your stomach was rumbling louder and louder by the minute.

After approaching the couch, Connor takes the plate from your back and puts it on the coffee table. You hand him his water and silverware and then bow your head, so it is resting on his sneakers. You pray he’ll let you peel them off; the steam floating off of them is far too temping. Instead, Connor rises up from the couch unexpectedly, nearly kicking you in the face once again.

“Ay, faggot. Where’s the dog food? I can hear your stomach rumbling. It’s fucking annoying.”

It’s at this time that it clicks for you. The dog food is for you. You’ll be eating dog food in place of human food for the remainder of your life - should Connor allow you to serve him for that long. “Umm, Sir Connor, it’s in the pantry, my Lord,” you say with your head still bowed.

You hear the pantry door open and the big bag of dog food moved around. Connor grabs a bowl and starts filling it. “You know how much of this you’re supposed to feed a dog? I don’t want to underfeed you.” He pauses for a second, letting out a light laugh. “Eh, never mind. You’re a faggot. What would you know?” he snickers, dumping another serving into the bowl.

He makes his way back to the couch and drops the bowl of food on to the floor. “Aw shit, faggy. You just emptied my bladder. I ain’t got any liquid for your food.” Your head remains bowed, sniffing at your meal, but the only thing you can smell are his glorious feet. You hope that smell will help you get this treacherous dog food down. “Move your head, faggot,” Connor says. He works up a loogie and spits it into the bowl. “That will have to do I guess. Now give me a bark and show me how excited you are for your first faggot meal. I thought you’d enjoy this type of food given how much time you spend with the pups,” he says as he wiggles his toes within his sneakers. “Show me how serious you are about serving me. Remember, service doesn’t only include paying for my livelihood and doing all of the chores. It also includes finding ways to spend as little money on yourself as possible. By only eating dog food and drinking my recycled beverages, I estimate nearly $60 in savings each week! That money goes straight back into my pocket! Now bark, faggy.”

You immediately start barking, letting your butt wiggle back and forth too. He didn’t ask for that, but you thought it would play into the effect nicely. He lets out another laugh. “Alright, faggot, go ahead.” You’re happy to know that he enjoyed your act.

You dive your head into the bowl and enjoy your first few loogie-covered bites. By bite number four, all of the loogie is gone, and the flavor becomes progressively worse. You don’t slow down on eating, though; you’ve never felt this hungry before in your entire life. On top of that, you’d never wanted to please someone this much in your entire life. Maybe it was a good thing that Connor dropped you as your boyfriend and made you his faggot. You seemed to be far more productive that way.

Connor attacks his meal nearly as quickly as you do yours, his eyes glued to either the TV or his food the entire time. He lets out a humongous fart followed up by an even bigger burp as his last bite slides down his throat. You sniff at both as you try to finish up your last few bites, terrified that Connor may take it away if you’re not done within seconds of his own completion. As you take your final bite, you realize you’ll have to do all of this over again tomorrow. You pray you’ll get a decent piss to help the food down.

“Ayy, faggy. Good job. You ate all of your food! I am stuffed. That pasta was pretty good, maybe a seven out of ten. Two of those are pity points, though, since I’m sure you put so much of your faggotry into making it.”

Connor turns toward the TV just in time to see the game winning point. Yet again, he nearly kicks you with his sneakered feet as he stands to cheer for the Patriots. After lobbing off a few texts to the boys about the big win, he continues his monologue. “It’s almost time for the faggot ceremony. You’ve earned it. The house and yard look great, my meal was… good enough, and you’ve done a decent job supporting my various needs. I gotta take a shit, so get to cleaning. The kitchen won’t scrub itself,” he says, letting out another laugh. Connor rises from the couch, and you give his sneakered feet yet another kiss. You pray that this so-called “faggot ceremony” will include some foot worship, but you have no idea what to expect. Maybe if you scrub the kitchen at a rapid pace, it’ll earn you some time at his feet.

Look at you, faggot. You’re doing everything in your power to impress your ex-boyfriend, Connor. You’ll literally do anything it takes to sniff and lick those size nasty 13 sneakers, socks, and feet. Think about how pathetic you are! Doesn’t matter, though, you’re loving your new life. You can’t wait to make it official with the faggot ceremony tonight!

258 notes · View notes

sweettomyhoney · 6 months

Text

ICK TO LICK | A.M

Request: open

POV: “Can you do enemies to lovers Auston Matthews”

AU: I am not proof reading! poc/plus size friendly

Since the minute you got to know Auston he made your teeth itch. It also didn’t help that you were the equipment manager. So every home game you knew you were in for the classic A.M Charm.

Auston does this little thing where he tries to flirt with you hoping to get your number. And you respond to him with an ego hindering comment,an eye roll and a smirk.

Today was a home game against the New Jersey Devils. That means skates sharpened, blades replaced, jerseys hung, sticks taped. You were in charge of making sure the boys had a smooth transition to the ice.

“ Morning Sweetheart” Auston said holding the door of the locker room.

“ Bite me Matthews” you replied coldly entertaining the door he held open

“ OOF! Someone’s is a spicy mood this morning. You are lucky I’m half Mexican” Auston says with a wink

“ I like Spicy” Auston continued following behind you

“ Do you get a kick out of flirting with me? Or are you just dumb?” You said light heartedly

“ Well a little bit of both”Auston said with a smile as he took a seat at his cubby.

No one else was in the locker room at this time usually. But this morning you and Auston wounded up together. The silence between you two was comfortable, so you took the opportunity to fold and put up freshly washed towels. As you walked from the laundry room to the towel shelf, Auston’s eyes kept following your every step.

“ Can I help you?” You said turning to meet his gaze .

“ Actually yes” Auston said walking towards the laundry bin you were rolling around.

“What is it now?” You said mentally preparing yourself for where this conversation is about to go.

“ I just wanna know why you don’t like me? I come in here every day to make you smile and nothing works. what is it about me” Auston said wit sly grin.

“ First off that’s a question I should be asking you because the last thing I am is sweet to you. And second of all, I just don’t like how cocky you are. You walk around like you’re the hottest thing since sliced bread. And I don’t go for guys who are full of themselves” you said, turn your attention back to folding towels.

“ Fair enough” Auston replies with a sigh.

“ But what does a guy have to do to melt that cold heart that you have? you are not all sunshine and rainbows yourself. And you haven’t even taking the time to truly get to know me” Auston continued with his charming ways

“ what are you getting at?” You said catching onto his proposal

“ What I mean is give me one date to truly get to know me. If the date goes wrong I’ll leave you alone, but if it goes well, I want to take you out again” Auston said with confidence.

You took a moment to think about your options. Maybe you did judge Austons a little too hard, but you had valid reasons. Women throw themselves at him on a daily basis. He could get any woman he wants and yet he bothers you. He could throw money at anything he wants. He gets what he wants, when he wants, how he wants it. To you that was the blueprint for jackasses , podcasts bros, and men who don’t respect respect women.

“what else do I get out of this?” You said questioning his offer.

“A date with a hot hockey player” He replied smartly

“ Fine I’ll go! You are still a jackass thought.” you responded in disbelief

“ Are you going to ride me like one? ” Auston joked

Your jaw dropped to the floor. For once you had absolutely nothing to say. Auston gave you one last wink and carried on getting ready for morning practice. You then snapped back to reality and carried on with your morning duties.The rest of your day went smooth as usual. But now you had a date with the same guy you vowed to avoid.

#hockey #nhl #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs #black nhl imagines #nhl imagines

174 notes · View notes

bloodyymaryyy · 3 months

Note

Could you do one for James Vowles with wife reader? Reader being sick, but still doing domestic things around the house and James has to force the reader into bed to get some rest. Add something you'd like though. Some fluffy bickering. Something sweet. Thanks!!!

Through sickness

James Vowels x reader

(I didn't know who he was so I did a little research before writing it)

Warnings : English isn't my first language, a little cursing

Fluff

Request : yes

The weekend that he was free the sickness caught y/n making her feel like shit trying to cover it up as much as she can so she doesn't ruin his off time by a stupid sickness.

With her nose running, coughing like she smoke all of her life and her previous ones, with the thermometer showing 40° degrees and a headache much stronger than any hangover she had when she was clubbing with her friends. It was Thursday when she woke up and everything hit her at ones, panicking she got up and went to the pharmacy to get everything needed so she can become better on Sunday night when he is to come back home from work.

Throughout the four days she had before the love of her love walk in through the door, she tried everything nostral spay to unstuff her nose, taking pills to get the fever and headache to calm down and syrup to drink for her throat, nothing really work in an instant so she did all of the household chores she could do with her illness but still trying to get some rest to help speed up the process and trying to do work so she wouldn't loose her job because she didn't want to take her limited time off just for being sick so she could have days off when her husband is here or if she needs to go to a few races she could with no problems.

Her husband james had asked her multiple times to quit so she could do anything she wanted with not much worry because he had money, he had enough money to retire both of them and live their life but she refused each time not wanting to spent his money for two reasons, one being that she wanted to be her own person with her own money and also for her to not lose her mind in her house not liking being in the races because of her being afraid of the cameras all over the grid.

She had fallen asleep with folding the freshly washed clothes, not waking up when James walked in with his bags in his hands and a smile in his face waiting to see his wife which he had missed, not seeing her for 2 weeks and rare were the phone calls due to the time zone and their schedules.

Trying to find her he dropped his things in the living room to shearch for her, going to their bathroom, no there, to the kitchen?, nope confused he shearch their balcony, no the laundry room?, no and finally their bedroom, yes!

He found her with a pile of clothes around her, in her hands there was one of his shirts half folded, he moved the chothes from around her and got close to her, noticed her nose was red and dry around her nostrals and her cupid's bow in help lips the skin dry and chopped. In the bedside table a mug with milk which he thought it was probably hot, now icy cold two empty water bottles, and the things she bought from the pharmacy beside them , dressed in one of his hoodies and fizzy pijamas pants and a used tissue in her hand he got the message. She was sick and tried to get better probably for him

Walking out of the bedroom he found food already cooked in a saucepan his favourite, pasta carbonara a bit cold, he audaply awed at it, seeing the flours clean the couch's cushions puffed up, the dishes done and the fridge and freezer full with food he realised she did all that with sick.

He changed out of his work clothes and into a set of pj's that she had folded up and for him before she had fallen asleep he started to make soup for her, to make her feel better, while he waited for the soup to be ready he took a shower and ate the carbonara not before warming it up and went to make the woman he married 2 years ago, some said the honeymoon feeling with pass within the six months of marriage then problems with fizzle up with everything but they still are so in love with each other, finding comfort in one other, each kiss feels like the first and their need for each other grows more and more.

Shaking her gently sitting beside her she woke up grumpy and mad to whatever woke her up but when she opened her eyes more and looked around she saw the love of her life she beamed up at him and wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed the top of his head carefully to not kiss him near his face to not spread whatever she has to him because in a week he will be back to work.

" hey baby! How was the flight today?"

She asked James her voice hoarse from the lack of use and the coughing for 3 and a half days long struggle with the illness

" It was good but I wish I had you with me the boys finished 5-8 so it was a good rce for us with no problems so I am happy, I made you soup!"

He said while explaining a bit and beamed at her

" you cooked? Why? I made your favourite didn't you liked it?"

" No I liked it and I ate it but the soup is for you baby I noticed you are sick so I thought you could use soup for it!"

"oh. Thank you baby I was trying to get better to not make your free time home shit because of me and my illness"

And with that they got up and he made her eat the soup with the bickered about him being happy to take care of y/n and with she said she would feel worse if she forced him to take care of her in the only time they get together and he was scolding her about doing the chores around the house while she was sick.

In the end of the day they got in their bed cuddling and talking about everything they missed from each other while they were not together and slept happily in the embrace of each other

#x reader #f1 x reader #drive to survive x reader #james vowles #James Vowels x reader #Marriswriting #Mary's blog #bloodyymaryyy

112 notes · View notes

who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 1 month

Text

What Happens When You're Left Alone: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Rapeplay, consensual non!con, rough sex, creampie

You lifted the basket to rest at your hip, turning away from the rickety old porch and stepped inside of the colonial home. You had just watched Charles and Sadie ride off in search of more food, probably towards the edge of this damned swamp for deer, anything but whatever slop Pearson would come up with. Sadie was hesitant to leave at first, offering you multiple times to come along, but you stayed back. You still had a lot to do, and you surely didn’t want Ms. Grimshaw to erupt when she saw everyone had left and that nothing was clean.

Everyone had left, going off into groups to their own places. Who went into town for medicines and quick bounty work, who went off for food, who went off for a ride to clear their heads. It was just you left at camp.

You wiped your forehead at the sweat that had gathered at your hairline. You hated being in the swamp, it was horrible. It was constantly hot and humid, you were constantly bitten by bugs and kept awake at night by croaking frogs and chirping crickets. You sneered at the thoughts of what laid out in the mud and murky pools in the swap, what reptiles and fish were just waiting for you to just cross by and drag you through to kill you.

You found your refuge in the Shady Belle from the balmy heat, padding through the house and climbed the stairs to start putting your clothing away in the old wooden dressers you and your husband used, folded the freshly dried clothes before putting them away in the drawers. You were halfway through the basket before you realized you had somehow grabbed the wrong laundry from the makeshift clothesline you had set up when you and the other women in camp had washed clothing earlier this morning. You cursed to yourself softly and hoisted the half-filled basket before turning around on the creaky flooring and started your way down the stairs. You had turned the corner, aiming to leave through the large wooden doors when you stopped out of shock and fear.

You had dropped the basket of clean laundry, the wicker and wood cracked against the hardwood floors that were just swept and the laundry piles spilled out.

There was a man, a stranger in Shady Belle, in your camp’s hideout. His back was turned to you, he was crouched down and was rummaging through a chest on the floor, its contents were pooled on the floor. You could tell even with him crouched down that he was big and broad.

His head shot up and he turned to look at you as soon as he heard the basket crackle on the ground. You froze in his gaze, you wanted to just shrink down and hide. You felt like prey, especially when he started to stand up and turn to face you fully, you felt the colors drain from your face. The sweaty balm on your body made your skin feel icy and made your hair want to stand up straight.

He was tall and very broad, definitely an imposing figure that could easily snuff you out if he wanted to. His cornflower blue shirt was rumpled, the sleeves had been bunched up at the elbow to show off his strong forearms. Dark pants hid tall and strong legs that he could catch up to you should you run. He wore a black cavalry hat, the lip nearly hiding his eyes in shadows, a black bandana was wrapped around his nose and mouth, obscuring his face from you. Your eyes fell to his waist where you saw a holster strapped to his hip, a customized cattleman revolver sat heavy in the holster. Alongside the gun was a heavy knife tucked into his belt, the blade looked freshly cleaned and sharpened. A lasso wound from thick rope and leather was fashioned to his other hip.

You shivered under his direct gaze, taking a small step backward. You nearly whimpered in fear when he took a step towards you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, your breath was stuttering, you felt your eyes stinging with tears of fright.

He was going to kill you.

“Well look at you,” the intruder drawled. “I thought this place was empty, sure was a surprise to see yer still home.” He took another step closer to you, you took another step back. “And what a surprise you are, darlin’.”

The dress you were wearing suddenly felt like it weighed one hundred pounds. It was a gift from your husband, a light floral printed dress he had gotten it in Valentine as a surprise for you. You loved wearing it, but now, you felt disgusting in it.

“Please, take whatever and leave. I won’t stop you,” you pleaded. He stepped forward again, unimpressed by your little attempt to be brave. “Please, I-I won’t report you, I won’t tell anyone you were here.”

“Oh, I know what I want now,” he growled from behind the bandana.

You felt absolutely sullied being in his sight, your heart dropped right into your stomach.

You didn’t even have a chance to take off, you were able to turn around and take a run a few steps before he was upon you. You were slammed into a wall, his large meaty hands were pinning you against the wall by your shoulders, your front and face hit the wall. You sobbed, turning your head to the side as tears had started to fall down your cheeks as the man pressed himself up against your back. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey, his hot breath hit the back of your neck. He pressed fully up against you, one of his hands leaving your neck to grab at you, a big calloused hand running down your hips to your waist and soon to your-

You strike behind you, your elbow collided with his ribs and catching the intruder off guard and causing him to stumble back from you. Taking the opportunity, you managed to squirm out of his iron grasp and fumbled through the house. It didn’t take him long to come right after you, heavy footfalls were right behind you, his booming voice threatening you. You turned on a corner and tried for the stairs, slipping over the low hemline of your dress, your knees collided with the hard wood and you cried out.

You were yanked back, his hand had snatched at your ankle and dragged you down, tearing the low hemline of your dress as you tried to dig your heels into the wood to stop him. Your nails dug into the wood, cracking when he dragged you down until you were beneath him.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin,” he growled as he grabbed onto your wrists. You thrashed in his grip, trying to kick at him, wriggle your way out again, something other than just letting him win. He snatched at the lasso from his hip, quickly weaving it around your wrists, binding them together so tight that any movement burned your skin. You desperately tried to push him away, your trembling fingers managed to snatch onto his bandana and jerk it down, revealing his rugged face. He was stunned for a split second before rage washed over his face. “You fucked up, little miss.”

He snatched at the torn hemline of your dress, completely ripping it off of your dress and stuffed the torn garment into your mouth to silence your cries and pleading. He hoisted you up the rest of the way, his heavy feet threatening the old wooden stairs below you as he threw you suddenly over his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch with your weight now on his broad shoulder as he stomped up the stairs and threw open the first door he could find.

Your room.

Without a care, the intruder hoisted you off of his shoulder and tossed you carelessly. You landed on the bedframe with a sob, the gag muffling your cries. You twisted around to see him kick closed the door, the wood slamming echoed through the house. You trembled as you stared at him with wide eyes.

He blocked the entire door with his broad body, he loomed over you, a horrible scowl on his face. He was furious, hands clenched into fists and he was breathing heavily.

“You really fucked up now, darlin’,” he sneered. You cried into the gag when he stomped over.

He grabbed at your ankle with a harsh grip and yanked you to the edge of the bed. Your scream was muffled, you were trembling worse than a branch in a storm. Your eyes were wide and full of tears as you stared up at him, dreading what his next move would be.

He grabbed at the shoulders of your dress and knotted his fingers in the collar, tearing the material with his bare strength. The fabric tore down your neck and past your breasts, revealing your brassiere to him. His rough hands went right to your breasts, calloused hands cupped your breasts and groped you through the thick material. His hands were dirty, covered in gunpowder and dirt and soiling the white material of your brassiere. He slid his hands beneath the hard wires and caressed the sensitive skin of your breasts. You whimpered into the gag, trying to push it out of your mouth with your tongue as tears started to stream down your cheeks.

“You feel so soft,” he purred. His touch was strangely soft now that he was violating your personal space after nearly killing you just moments ago. He eyed the wedding band on your finger and a spark really seemed to light in his eye. “How’d yer husband feel if he walked in here to see me touchin’ his wife?” You cursed him out behind the gag, barely managing to get words like ‘fuck and ‘kill’ and ‘bastard’ out through his howls of laughter. “Yer husband’s gon’ kill me? Think he’ll be stunned when he sees me fuckin’ his pretty little wife, don’t you?”

Your blood ran cold, your heart stopped for what felt like eternity. You shook your head, eyes dripping with salty tears, pleading with the man behind the gag as he grabbed onto your brasserie again and ripped it off of your body, the fabric tearing cut through the still and thick air. He looked at your naked breasts with a ravenous hunger in his evil green eyes, hands grabbing them and started to squeeze your chest with vigor. You whined and tried to kick him off, but the man’s strong stature denied you completely. Instead, he straddled you at the knees, hunching over you slightly to toy with your naked breasts. Dirty nails scratching your skin, calloused fingers squeezing your nipples, strong hands grabbing at your chest to try to get a noise out of you.

Seeing that you weren’t giving him what he wanted, he stopped violating your breasts and grabbed onto the remaining scraps of your dress and yanked again, completely tearing apart the rest of the dress and leaving you only in your white panties. He did away with them as he had done with your dress and brasserie, tearing it off of your body and now leaving you completely nude to his eyes.

One of his hands trailed down to your womanhood, hand caressing your sensitive flesh before parting you open with one finger. You winced, his calloused finger scratched at your skin uncomfortably as he plunged it deeper into your passageway. You cried when he started to finger-fuck you, his eyes trained on your body, ramping up the speed at which he tortured you. He soon added another finger, starting to open you up, enjoying what he was dragging out of you.

“Gettin’ wet from another man? Boy, I’d bet yer husband would be pissed,” he mocked as he fingered your slick walls.

You whined and tried to wriggle loose. The man laughed, taunting you, loving every second of the torture he put onto you.

He had stopped suddenly and sat back, large hands going right to his belt where he fumbled with it. You pleaded once more, eyes wide with terror as you shook your head. He had pulled out his large cock, fully erect now in his hand. He sat back up and dragged the head of his dick over your slick entrance, barely passing it through your walls to tease you before lining himself up.

You screamed when he roughly thrusted into you, your back lifting off of the bed to try and ease the pain he was causing you only for him to push you back down flat onto the bed.

He groaned lowly as he tried to get adjusted to how tight you were, fighting you back down when you tried to move and squirm with both hands now on your shoulders. He sank into you until he was fully hilted before he started to move. He started slow, trying to ease you open more, hissing at how tight you were still even after he finger fucked you open. His hips soon started to piston like a well-oiled machine, dragging his cock nearly out of you before plunging back in. The moans and words that left his mouth were vile, surely to haunt you for the rest of you life. He was quick to ramp up the speed, the bed creaking with every thrust, the mattress moving and the floors beneath squeaking.

You cried into the gag, eyes wincing and your hands balled into fists as the rope around them burned. He smirked, moaned, and laughed at you.

You moaned when he thrusted against a bundle of sensitive nerves inside of you, earning a howling laugh front him as he relentlessly pounded into you.

“Look at you,” he sneered as he pounded into you from above, “moanin’ as another man fucks you. What would that husband of yers think?”

You had somehow loosened the rope around your wrists just enough to squeeze out of them, opting to grab at the sheets rather than grab onto him. The gag was still in your mouth covered in your spit, still muffling your whimpers and now unfortunately your moans too.

You felt pressure build up inside of you, like hot metal in a forge right inside of your core. Your arousal was coming fast, and you couldn’t do anything about it. All you could do was just lay there as this man violated you.

You came with a cry, sobbing as your body was wracked with both arousal and shame. The man laughed at you, taunting you as he continued to fuck you.

“Cummin’ ‘round another man’s cock, now that’s somethin’ else, sweetheart.” You felt his cock twitch inside of you not too long after, your mind hazy from your climax and your body wanting to go limp. His groans were getting heavier and his thrusts were more sloppy. “Wonder how yer husband’ll feel knowin’ you got fucked by another man? Knowin’ that yer leakin’ my seed?”

He kept thrusting into you, his grip on your shoulders was bruising. He was getting sloppy, slowly losing control of his hips, he faltered and hunching over you, spilling his seed right into you, cumming with a heavy groan. He stayed that way, cock still inside of you until it had grown flaccid and leaned over you, riding out his high inside of your throbbing womanhood until he had finally got off.

He stood from the bed and stalked out of your sight and you rolled to your side, starting to sob to yourself quietly, afraid of the man that still lurked in your bedroom until he came into view once more.

“You say anythin’ to anyone, and I’ll come back, ya hear?” he threatened down at you as he fumbled with his belt.

You heaved, your legs trembled as you clenched them together. Your entire naked body was drenched in a cold sweat, your inner thighs sticky your horrid arousal and his sticky cum that was still dripping onto the sheets still warm. He pushed himself off of the bed, you could barely see him through the strands of hair clinging to your tear-streaked face. You saw him for a brief moment, and the next he was gone without a sound, leaving you alone to curl up into a ball and sob to yourself quietly.

He was quick, rushing out to his horse behind the house and rummaged through her satchel bag for a small leather satchel before turning on his heel and rushing back into the house. He had made sure to grab a tin cup from a nearby table and dunked it into the bucket of fresh water nearby before disappearing into the house.

He was quiet when he entered the house, slowly taking the stairs one at a time as to not spill the water, wincing as the wood creaked eerily under his weight. He came up to the tall door that was partially open from when he slammed it at his exit, nudging his foot into the doorway and poking his head in.

His heart was pounding in his ears, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you still on the bed. You were sobbing softly, you had rolled over onto your side and faced away from the door, the gag had been spit out and had fallen to the floor. You were trembling still, trying to breathe calmly between sobs. His eyes rolled over the bruises and marks he had left on your body from thrashing you around and his eyes stayed on the ruined scraps of your dress on the floor. He would have to buy you a new dress soon.

He licked his lips and looked back at you.

“(Y/n)?” he called softly. He stepped into the room and carefully approached you. You stirred, your trembling had nearly stopped and your sobs had been cut short. “(Y/n), sweetheart, are ya alright?”

“Arthur?” you whimpered.

You wiped your face with the back of your hands before turning to look at him.

Arthur moved to set the cup and satchel down and sat next to you on the rickety bed. His large hands rubbed calming circles into your back.

“Darlin’, I didn’ hurt ya, did I?” he worried, combing his fingers through your hair.

“N-no,” you had finally caught your breath and your sniffles had quieted down some. “I-I liked it, I just need a minute.”

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and sat up.

“I love ya, sweetheart. I got ya somethin’.”

Arthur grabbed at the satchel and put it in front of you for you to open. You fumbled with the latch and slipped open the leather to find three bars of chocolate as well as some other sweets stuffed inside of the leather.

He reached across and wiped away the stray tear that had started to roll down your cheek.

“I should head on down, clean up the mess I made,” Arthur hummed.

Before he could stand up, you stopped him, wrapping your hand around his wrist. His brilliant green eyes met yours. God, he loved looking into your eyes even when they were rimmed red from crying.

“Stay with me? Please?” you pleaded softly.

“Always.”

#red dead redemption #rdr #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader

61 notes · View notes

bloodlustknight · 11 months

Text

Sweat & Dryer Sheets

Miguel O'Hara x FTM!Reader | WC: 1.4k cw: 18+ mdni, oral r receiving, bottom growth referred to as cock Summary: You and Miguel live together but it's been so long since you've been able to be together.

𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆 ࣪ 　 ҉ ⋅⠀✧⠀⋅ 　 ҉ ࣪ 𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆𖦆

It had been a long day, your body heavy as you open the door to your apartment. The smell of freshly washed laundry hitting your nose.

"Miguel, I'm home," you announce as you enter the living room. That's when you see him; folding clothes and making neat piles on the couch.

He looks up as you enter the room unfurling his brows, face softening.

"Welcome home sweetheart," He stretches out an arm pulling you in as he kisses the crown of your head. You relax into his side, "You smell good."

"How so?" Miguel asks, interest piqued.

"Hmm, you smell like dryer sheets... and a little sweaty." You look up, meeting his eyes. A laugh escapes his throat as his chest rumbles.

"You think that smells good?" Miguel raises a brow fighting back another laugh.

"What? It's nice, smells like home." You reach your hand out, pressing it against his chest, busying yourself with straightening out his shirt.

"Plus, I like it when you get all sweaty." Another laugh cracks through Miguel.

"Oh really?" he says with a goofy grin. He takes hold of your wrist, gently bringing your hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips over your knuckles, giving each a kiss.

His eyes are unwavering as he presses your palm against his lips, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You instinctively pull your hand back, but it doesn't budge. Your eyes widen, and you feel the room heat up. Miguel holds your wrist, firmly pushing his tongue into your palm. Kneading your flesh, sending shivers down your spine. A groan escapes you as he begins to part your fingers. You duck your head breaking from his gaze, face beet red. He looked hungry.

"Please, I want to see that handsome face-" Miguel says between breaths. Suddenly you feel a hand press into the small of your back; before you know it, you're flush against him, forced to look up your breath hitches as you see it. Spit coats the edges of his lips as he makes obscene work of your hand.

"Miguel, please..." you whisper heat pooling at the base of your stomach.

"Use your words, sweetheart." he says, lips leaving your hand.

"The... ah laundry- I can help you with it." This sends him into a laughing fit.

He always managed to get you worked up so easily, none of this was new, but it had been so long since the last time.

"The laundry can wait. I'd like to focus on you." He smiles. That's when you feel a hand snake from your back to right in between your legs, cupping your groin. You grab his shoulders for support as your legs buckle slightly.

"Fuck-" you gasp as he traces your hood. You'd been so busy recently, coming home late and exhausted. It had been so long since you and Miguel's schedules lined up. Even then, at any moment, he could be called out to fight the villain of the week. You didn't realize how sensitive you had become to his touch. How much you wanted, no needed this.

You slide a hand down his chest and slip it underneath his shirt. Exploring his musculature until you reach his nipple pressing your thumb against it. Miguel swallows back a groan as you massage his chest. In what feels like an act of retaliation; he slips his hand into your pants. He takes your cock, giving it a tug. In an instant you push your hips forward, giving him better access, wanting more.

You begin to pull at his shirt frustrated that you're both still clothed and he's got you this desperate.

"Clothes off - please." You huff. He leans down and plants a kiss on your lips.

"Soon beautiful..." he trails off, your eyes meeting his. It's the first time you notice how red he'd gotten, eyes half-lidded, canines protruding.

He slowly gets down onto his knees, grabbing the backs of your thighs. You stiffen in anticipation, muscles jerking with each kiss he leaves up your thighs. Ghosting his lips over your clothed cock, his hot breath making you impatient for contact.

You thread your fingers through his hair bracing yourself. He presses his tongue flat against the fabric of your pants. You lean into his touch the layers of clothing making it hard for you to feel him. You tug on his hair desperately, wanting more.

"Please... Miggy" you manage through staggered breath. This time there's no response, he simply pushes his face closer, you now feel his nose press into you as he prods your crotch with licks. He becomes more desperate as time goes on. His heavy breathing a sign of how badly he's been wanting this to. He leaves your groin, cool breath sending shivers up your spine as it hits your now-soaked crotch.

You needed him now, needed to feel his lips wrap around you. You begin to undo your pants, muscles tensing with need. Miguel stills your hands, grabbing your pants by the belt loops and yanking them down with a single tug, a shallow breath leaves you. You weren't the only one who felt desperate.

His hands return, hooking around your legs, his lips swollen as they latch onto your inner thigh. It feels as though he's wound you up, and the smallest of touches could have you come undone.

"Mhm, ah-h" you sputter as Miguel kisses your thighs, stopping at your core, lips ghosting there. He raises a hand slowly pulling back your hood, hips bucking up into his touch. Grabbing onto his hair you brace yourself as he presses his lips against your head. The overstimulation makes every movement electric causing you to hiss through your teeth.

He takes all of you into his mouth, letting out a groan as he feels the weight of you on his tongue. Hollowing out his cheeks he sucks you in, stopping only to lick at your base collecting the mess he's made of you onto his tongue. Each of his groans sends sweet vibrations through your core, pushing you closer and closer to your release.

"Hah- you're doing so good, Miguel... so good-" you barely manage to stagger out your praise. He doesn't show it well but Miguel was a sucker for praise. Vulnerability looked beautiful on him. You cherished the time you spent together where guarded walls crumbled.

Your train of thought broken as you feel his lips leave you. He's panting, you're slick covering his face. You can tell he's close, the realization sends your heart pounding. The thought of Miguel getting there just by getting you off. You let out a groan, locking eyes.

"Please Miggy I'm so close," You throw your head back. In a heartbeat, he's back at your core, savoring your taste on his tongue, massaging your cock.

He takes both his hands, spreading you open, your legs bowing. His nose pressed against your cock as he hungrily laps at your sensitive nerves. You feel the pleasure concentrate in your core, building with each stroke of his tongue.

"Yes there, right there!" you keen. All at once you feel the wave that's been building crash over you. Every one of your muscles, tenses as you grip Miguel's hair for dear life. He's holding your legs, ensuring you don't stumble as you ride out your orgasm.

Once you've stilled, panting, you look down at him. As you brush your fingers through his hair, you can't fight off the goofy smile on your face.

"What was all that for?" you chuckle. He leans into your touch.

"I don't know... it's been a while, I missed you." He says loud enough just for the two of you to hear.

You help Miguel as he slowly begins to rise. Taking his face into your hands, you wipe yourself off the edges of his lips.

"I missed you too." You say giving him a peck on the cheek. Miguel buries himself into the crook of your neck.

"Mhhhm," he breathes out, a smile on his lips.

"You smell good."

#OOC Miguel im so sorry #this is pwp #I just want to have a home with him and a quite life 😮‍💨#want to understand his character better but this hit me out of nowhere #might write some more #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x ftm!reader #miguel o'hara x nb!reader #miguel o'hara x enby!reader #miguel o'hara x ftm reader #miguel o'hara x enby reader #miguel o'hara x nb reader #nb reader #ftm reader

199 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Jungkook

𝓜𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 : Dont be scared

Sometimes, death is a beginning and not an end.

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt & Comfort, Idol!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Cat Hybrid!Reader, mentions of depression and depressive thoughts, heartbreak, homelessness, it's a bit heavy sorry, mentions of mental abuse and manipulation, betrayal, slow burn, eventual smut, dead dove do not eat

Dead Dove do not eat: warning for potentially triggering content that can't be tagged without spoiling the story.

Length: 2.2k Words.

-> Masterlist

~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~

"I didn't think.. it would, you know, cause something like this." Hanako says quietly, her voice all raspy from crying so much. Jungkook is standing at the end of the hallway, looking out the window. He's not said anything these past few hours since the last nurses had left your room- and Hanako herself had been consoled by her boyfriend as she'd cried to herself.

Jungkook wasn't crying. Not anymore. There was no reason to.

"They didn't tell me- You know, I told you didn't I? I didn't know-" She continues to try and justify her actions of failing to meet the deadline of your heat implant. She'd just left it there for almost an entire year, when it's supposed to be checked and changed every three months, didn't bring you to any of your medical appointments any longer, and Jungkook himself snaps as he hears the young man next to her try and tell her it wasn't her fault.

"You could've asked." He growls, not turning around- but Hanako can see his reflection in the window, rain outside in the nightsky pattering against the glass with just as much force as it takes him to hold his emotions in check it seems like. "She had regularly scheduled appointments that you did not take her to- for nine months." He continues stabbing at her, uncaring of hurting her emotionally. "If anyone is at fault here, it is indeed you." He finishes, and the young man next to her gets up to argue. "Sit down, and shut up. You don't even have the right to be here in the first place." Jungkook turns around and points at the seat, eyebrows lowered and eyes sharp as he clenches his jaw.

"Jungkook, I didn't mean for this to happen-" Hanako cries, trying to regain his sympathy in any way she can. But he doesn't budge.

"Save it." He simply says, staring at the closed hospital room with a heavy heart. "It's not like it matters anymore anyways."

~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~

"What're you doing?" Namjoon wonders, carefully peeking into the room he remembers the singer being so protective about. Today, it's brightly lit by the opened windows, curtains blowing in the slight breeze while Jungkook is busying himself folding freshly washed laundry.

Clothes that clearly aren't his- but yours.

"Moving on." Jungkook calmly states, taking in a deep breath as he continues to fold another shirt of yours, your bed clearly made, shelves dusted off, carpet vacuumed. The time capsule has been opened, revealed, and now- time has begun to tick away again, the frozen state of the entire room shattered. "Just like you told me to." He nods to himself, continuing his task.

"Jungkook.." He tries, but he knows there's nothing he can say that would help. There's still a long road ahead of the young man, no matter how much he wants to say that he's fine. Things happened, and with everything going down, it's no wonder that there will probably be some lasting effects of those things happening to him. No one should have to go through this- and unless the industry changes at least some way to protect their artist's private life or puts up boundaries for fans to stay behind, it'll happen again and again and again.

And not everyone is as strong as Jungkook. Not everyone can just accept things like this.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, unsure how to approach his friend.

"I am." He agrees, putting everything in a neat pile, before he puts them into a black traveling bag. "Or.. I will be." He shrugs, walking back to the window, closing it.

"Are you sure that.. this is a good idea?" The bandleader asks. "Your career is at an all-time high. A hiatus right now-"

"Is just what I need." Jungkook finishes, sighing. "It's just a couple of weeks. I just.. need time. I can't just pretend like nothing happened." He explains with a somber tone, pulling the pale pink curtains shut. "The company has already painted out a convincing story as to why I'm going to be taking time off. Hyung- just.. let me have this. I need some time to think." He simply sighs out, before zipping the black travel bag close.

Like a silent request for his bandleader to leave.

And so he does- because maybe Jungkook really does need some time for just himself.

~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~��~

It's raining.

The sun is shining, but it's raining.

You don't remember it raining that day, back when Jungkook still loved you. You don't remember ever going to a place like this with him- but maybe you did, and this dream is simply calling back those buried memories you've somehow forgotten. "The forecast didn't mention rain.." He mumbles with a slight pout in his voice, scrolling through his phone behind you, hand on your shoulder. The warmth of it seeps through your fluffy cardigan- he has always been warm, no matter the situation. Whether it was his body, or his smile, or the color of his eyes- all of it was always warm. And it made you feel warm, too.

You watch as the leaves of the potted plants dip in rhythm of the thick drops of rain hitting the leaves. It's like they're dancing to the faint music playing in a cafe close by. Can plants feel warm too?

"It should stop soon, though. See?" Jungkook points at the sky, his inked hand coming into view for you- and you can't help but focus more on the veins over the back of his hand, ink slightly blurred out from the time it's been there- purple heard a bit splotchy, but present. Maybe your mind can't really remember it well enough to paint it out properly. Have you ever looked at his tattoos in detail?

Maybe you should've.

"Silly cat, up there." He chuckles, taps your chin with his other hand to move your gaze towards the sky. He's right.

The thick dark clouds have broken up, sun finally able to peek through the cracks, warming your face up almost instantly. You have to close your eyes a little as to not get blinded. But you also don't want to- cause if you do, the dream will end, and you don't want that to happen. Not yet.

You want to dream a bit longer.

Taking a look around yourself, you realize that you don't remember this place. Nothing seems to recall any memories for you- and the writing on the signs close by, you can't read. Looking down at yourself, you're dressed in white. Your dress is a little wet on top of your chest from the rain, some other drops sparkling in the fluff of your cardigan. Even your shoes are white- shiny white mary janes you don't remember owning at all.

You look like a ghost.

There's a small snail in front of one of your feet. You can spot Jungkook's larger shoes behind yours- black combat boots with a thick and broad sole, making him even taller than he used to be next to you. You bend down to pick the little insect up by it's colorful swirled housing, and you notice your fingers are all red. Maybe you're cold.

But you don't feel cold?

You walk to the plants who are still dancing in the rain, placing the snail in the soil underneath the large leaves so it won't get crushed, won't get wet. It's a dream, isn't it? But even in a dream, you'd hate to accidentally hurt the little thing.

"Hey- baby you'll get wet, come here." Jungkook softly says, pulling you back underneath the small roof of the cafe you're standing in front of. The music is coming from there, inside, you notice. It's unfamiliar. Instrumental. A nice, calm tune, for a cozy feeling. Do they sell cakes and coffee in there? Can you even enjoy these things as a ghost any longer?

Maybe if you just try and remember the taste of it, it'll be the same.

"What's gotten you so deep in thought, hm?" Jungkook asks, hands wiping your cat ears dry with his sleeve, and it feels nice. You've not looked at him. In a way, you're scared of what you'll see.

You remember that all your dreams always end with him mad at you, as soon as you look at his face. You don't want that right now. This dream is too pretty as it is.

So you just shrug, unable to give an answer. What answer could a ghost give anyways?

"Your hands are all cold-" Jungkook notices, holding them in his own, and you look at them for a moment. This hand doesn't have tattoos. It's bare, but the veins underneath are still present. His nails are short and round, but his knuckles seem like he's hurt them some time ago. Like the scabs have just about fallen off, skin underneath still pink and new, standing out against his otherwise familiar complexion.

Warm, just like the palms of his hands.

You look at your own, one of your hands slipping out of his featherlight grasp, as it notices something underneath your cardigan. A bump of some sorts, and it makes you a little anxious. Your dream is shifting it seems, thunder scaring you for a moment, making you shrink in on yourself for a split second, before you pull up your sleeve despite the small scare.

Your hand is so cold, and the thick bandage feels weird. You want it off.

You pull on the edges of it, fiddling around, when his inked hand pulls your fingers away with gentle motions. "No no no angel, you gotta leave that." He tells you, other hand adjusting your sleeve again to hide your arm.

You whine in complaint. You don't want it, and it's a dream anyways. It'll turn on you no matter what you do, so you try and do it again. It makes him chuckle, of all things. He should get mad instead. This dream is so confusing- and why is he holding onto you like that anyways?

Suddenly, the cars all seem to pass by way too fast, way too loud. There's people, and you're scared to look at their faces, because what it they're monsters waiting to shake you awake? Your head whips from side to side, unsure where to look. Someone yells something in the distance, but it's in a language you don't speak, and can't remember ever hearing.

This isn't a dream anymore- it's a nightmare.

The sky won't clear up like Jungkook had told you it would. In fact, the thunder seems to roar so loud it rattles your bones, and the music behind you appears to be more so loud than soothing as it was before. There's so much going on, way more than your ears can follow, and your breath quickens as you begin to feel light-headed, nauseous.

This isn't right.

None of this is right.

Jungkook had tried to save you, no? You remember him holding you, back when you were hiding, when the world of ghosts had called you. You remember his scent, and the way he cried- is he sad now that you're gone? And if he's still alive, then who's the Jungkook that's holding onto you right now? Is he just a figment of your imagination, never to have a soul and heart like the real one did?

You're scared. You don't want jungkook to be alone.

He's always been an introvert, had told you that he doesn't mind being by himself. He loves performing, loves his idol life, but he also hates everything that comes with it. He'd once told you that it annoys him that while he has the money to do whatever he'd dreamt of as a kid, he now can't do it because he's got to make sure no one will ever see him. You remember how heartbroken he'd been for his brother Jin when his fiance had been attacked by obsessive stalkers, the poor young woman's identity revealed against her will-

And that's when everything changed, it seems like.

Maybe he'd realized how unrealistic a future with you would be if his brother and Bandmate couldn't even date a regular human woman. If he was to ever say out loud that he was in love with a hybrid of all things, his life would just shatter into pieces, wouldn't it?

Maybe that's the real reason he got rid of you. So he could keep on living his dream.

Jungkooks arms are pulling you now, somewhere dark, behind the store, and you can't see all of a sudden, as if something is blocking your eyes. It's dark, your sight gone, and you're sure you're trying to scream- But in a dream, no one hears you. Your ears are useless, ringing with the chime of a thousand bells, the blood rushing in your head drowning out anything else you could her. You want to yell, but even when alive, you'd never been able to scream either.

And as a ghost, could anyone even hear you at all?

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader

186 notes · View notes