#THE WAY CONNIE IS DRAWN HERE

[hallietblr]

my favourite birthday girl | j.fisher x reader

request: i would like to request can it be where jere and i are best friends and its my bday belly and conrad throw a surprise bday party for me at the becks beach house and jeremiah & i go upstairs and we go in his bedroom he confesses that he liked me since last summer and i have my first time with jere trying different sex positions like hes on top of me and im on top of him riding him & doing cowgirl style position lots of kissing can it be smut/angst and is it okay if i include my name and if not you can do y/n thanks babe❤️❤️❤️❤️🫶🏻🥰

a/n: i fricking LOVE this!! i had so much fun writing it and i hope you all enjoy!

warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), oral (fem! receiving), swearing, alcohol consumption, and jeremiah being a total sweetheart

—

the sun was shining brightly through the windows of my bedroom, the morning breeze coming through smelling of sea salt. i flutter my eyes open, taking in the warmth of the summer. i reach for my phone that was charging by my bed side. the moment the lockscreen wakes, it’s full of birthday messages.

i feel myself smile as i go through the individual texts from all my friends back home in maine. i respond to them all, thanking each of them for the kind and loving messages.

after doing so, i finally decide that it’s time for me to get out of bed. i stretch out the slumber from my body before crawling out of the warm bed. i grab my phone and my bluetooth speaker and head over to my bathroom to start my birthday right.

cruel summer by taylor swift starts playing loudly as i pull off my pajamas, which was in reality one of jeremiah’s old t-shirts. i decide to text my friends to see what the plans were for the day, assuming they had something in mind.

—

SUMMER GANG☀️🌊🫶

y/n!

goodmorning guys!! what are the plans for today?

stevie:

con and i are going fishing at the pier today

belly <3:

i told my mom that i’ll go to the store with her today!! sorry girl!

y/n!:

that’s fine haha have fun! tell laur i said hi:)

j:

i should be available today i think

connie:

i thought ur coming fishing?

stevie:

yeah!! boys trip!!

belly <3:

wow i’ve nvr seen us all so busy lol

j:

wdym it’s a regular day

connie:

nvm mom says u need to clean ur room jere

stevie:

LOL

belly <3:

so true, it’s gross jeremiah

j:

shut upp

urs isn’t any better bells

belly <3:

:(

y/n!:

stop being mean j

—

i close my phone, a bit disappointed that it appeared that all my friends forgot about my birthday. i try to shake it off and assume that they’re all busy, so remembering a birthday isn’t that big of a deal.

i step into my shower, washing my hair with my coconut shampoo and conditioner, lathering my body with body wash, and shaving every inch of my body. i sing to taylor swift as i shower, feeling my muscles relax in the warm water. i dry myself off with a towel and pull on a cute purple summer dress that i had gotten earlier last week.

after putting on some makeup and doing my hair, i figured that i was ready to go downstairs to see my family. at least they would remember my birthday.

you only turn seventeen once, plus laurel, susannah, and my mom always told me that seventeen is an amazing year.

my mom was preparing my favourite smoothie bowl when i got to the kitchen. her face lit up after seeing me turn the corner and a smile drawn up her face, “happy birthday, my babygirl!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight embrace.

i hug her back, “thank you, momma!”

she hands me the beautiful smoothie bowl, “here you go, sugar! let me go get you your presents!”

my mom scurries away to her office before returning with multiple gifts all wrapped up in colourful gift wrap. she places them on the kitchen island before sitting down beside me.

i was already half way done my breakfast when my dad and baby sister came into the kitchen.

“happy seventeenth, babydoll” my dad grins, planting a kiss on my forehead, “i can’t believe how grown up you are already.”

“happy birthday sissy!” my four year old sister yells, hugging my leg. i ruffle her hair, thanking the both of them.

my mom urges me to open up the presents, she had always been a huge gift giver — seeing people’s reactions were her favourite thing. i open the sealed boxes, revealing lululemon clothing, a new ipad, gorgeous jewelry, and some makeup products that i’ve been wanting to get.

“mom!” i exclaim, in shock of the overwhelming amount of gifts, “you didn’t have to!”

“oh, honey,” she coos, brushing my hair, “it’s your seventeenth birthday! of course i had to, do you like them?”

i look at her with my mouth opened agape, “yes, yes! of course i love them all! you know me so well, thank you!”

my arms wrap around my mom, squeezing her tight.

“my first baby,” she whispers into my ear so my sister, lindsay, doesn’t hear her, “i love you with my whole heart.”

i finish up the rest of my breakfast, while also admiring my new items. my dad also takes a few photos of us, most likely to post on his facebook page later. luckily, i look decent right now.

“eat up,” my dad says to me, “your friends are probably waiting for you.”

i shrug, “they’re all busy today.”

my mom turns to me with a raised eyebrow, “seriously? do you want me to call susannah?”

i shake my head quickly, “no! it’s alright, really.”

“i’m sorry, baby” my dad squeezes my shoulder, “you can hang out with us today.”

i give him a small smile, “that sounds good.”

the rest of the day was uneventful, well not exactly. it was moreso just a typical day for us. my sister and i went swimming in our pool, i watched tv with my parents, and scrolled through my phone a ton. i really didn’t want to confront my friends about them forgetting my birthday, it would’ve been immature was what i told myself. it’s not like i’m six anymore.

i was laying on my bed when i received a text message.

—

j:

heyy pretty

wanna come over? we just came back from fishing 🎣

y/n!:

sure :)

j:

awesome! see you soon!!

also wear something nice ;)

y/n!:

why?

j:

not that you don’t always look nice!!!

my mom wants to take photos or smt lol

y/n!:

oooook

—

my brows furrow in slight confusion of the request but i shrug it off. i get up from my laying position and go to my closet to find something ‘nice’. i find a black satin slip dress that i brought from back home, i figured this would be nice enough. i put it on and look at myself in front of my mirror.

i smooth down the material of the dress, checking how it looks from the side and from behind. i silently pray that jeremiah would like it, i’ve overheard him, conrad, and steven talk about how jeremiah is an ass man multiple times — considering how the satin material of the dress perfectly fits my bum, i’m convinced he’ll appreciate it.

i grab my phone, sunglasses, and my favourite lip gloss before heading downstairs. i see my parents cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie together with my sister fast asleep in the space next to them.

i slide on my white converse and head over to them, “i’m going over to the fishers.” i tell them. they smile and remind me to have fun and to be home by two am.

the walk over to the fisher summer home is brief, a quick five minute walk. them living only two houses over from mine always came in handy. i open up the front door before my vision became black.

“do you trust me?” he says, jeremiah’s hands clamped over my eyes.

“if you ruin my mascara, j, i might cry.” i joke, “yes, i do trust you.”

“okay, good.” i can hear his infamous smile in his voice, “come with me.”

he guides me slowly through the house, his hands still over my eyes. jeremiah lifts them off and it takes me a moment before noticing all the decorations put up around the kitchen. there are streamers hanging from the walls and across the ceilings, so many pretty balloons in every corner of the room, a huge ‘happy birthday’ sign hanging on the cupboards.

my hand flyes to clamp over my open mouth, “oh my god!”

steven, belly, laurel, susannah, and conrad all jump up from their hiding spot behind the kitchen island.

“surprise!” they all scream out. i smile widely, taking in everything,

“you guys!” i gush, as im being pulled into a hug from jeremiah, “thank you!”

his muscular arms hold me and he plants two kisses on my hair, “did you really think we forgot your birthday, pretty girl?”

i laugh, “well maybe! you guys are forgetful sometimes… like the time you forgot belly and i at the walmart!”

he rolls his eyes playfully, “oh shush, that was one time!”

“we never forget birthdays here.” susannah giggles before also hugging me, “happy birthday my gorgeous and beaming girl.”

everyone takes their turn in hugging me and wishing me a happy birthday. i thank each of them individually, the smile never leaving my face once.

“who planned this?” i ask laurel, who was carefully pulling out the birthday cake from the fridge.

“it was all belly and connie’s idea” she smiles, “now go sit!”

i take my seat next to jeremiah and steven before laurel brings the cake with seventeen candles on it in front of me. they all sing happy birthday to me and i close my eyes to make a wish.

every year since i was five years old, my birthday wish has been the same. not even just for my birthday, anytime i saw a shooting star, or tossed a penny in a fountain, or honestly any other occasion that required making a wish — it has always been the same.

it was wishing for jeremiah to notice me in the same way that i see him. it’s all i’ve ever wanted, as stupid as it can get.

i blow out all the candles and susannah cuts up the cake into slices before serving it to everyone. belly reminds me of all the birthday presents that they had gotten me, and to open it later.

after cake, susannah and laurel agree to leave the home to go to a cocktail bar so that the kids can have the house to themselves for a few hours. more teenagers from cousins start showing up, all of them wishing me a happy birthday as they come in.

drinks are being served, music is playing loudly off the multiple speakers scatter around the home, beer pong matches are being played by the pool, people dancing.

jeremiah stays next to me for the whole night, we chat with a few of our friends while sipping our seltzers.

“do you wanna go upstairs for a bit?” jeremiah says to me in a hushed tone, “y’know, to get away from this?”

i nod, “yeah, for sure.”

he smiles, taking my hand into his own and guiding me through the crowd and up the stairs. we walk to his bedroom, he closes the door behind me and locks it. jeremiah places his drink on his dresser and offers to put mine next to it, i agree and soon we’re both seated on his bed.

we make small talk, him asking about my birthday so far as he rummages around in his desk drawer. he sits back down beside me, facing me. he places a small velvet box into my hands,

“open it, my favourite birthday girl.” he smirks, looking into my eyes. his hand was on my thigh and i can feel myself blushing.

i think i can get lost in his ocean eyes, they’re so beautiful and full of life. i smile and carefully open it, inside was a gorgeous golden ring with a large (what im assuming was a fake) diamond on it.

“j…” i gasp, lifting the ring out of its box and admiring it, “this must have costed a fortune.”

he shrugs, “anything for you, look on the band.”

i bring the ring closer to my eyes and see that there’s an engraving on the inside of the band.

in love with my best friend <3

my jaw drops, “jeremiah?”

i look up at him, our eyes interlocking. he slowly nods, “i love you, y/n — i’ve always have, i thought it was a childhood crush and i don’t think i really realized until last summer that i truly do love you.”

“can i?” he asks, taking the ring from my hand. i nod and he carefully slips it onto my finger before being it to his lips and kissing it.

i pull him into a kiss, my hands rested on his cheeks and his on my waist. he kissed back almost immediately. my hands move down to his built chest and gently push him down onto his back, our lips never leaving each others. i adjust my legs so im straddled on him,

“i’ve always loved you too.” i whisper against his lips, he smiles into the kiss and kisses me harder.

his fingers fiddle with the edge of my dress, hands sliding up and down the back of my thighs before squeezing my ass slowly, “god, i couldn’t take my eyes off of you in this dress. it makes your body look so fucking good.” jeremiah groans.

i lower my crotch onto the evident tent in his pants, he gasps at the contact while slowly grind my hips on his.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my pants.” he moans into my ear as i flip my hair onto one side. i bring my face to his jawline, kissing it and licking the soft skin. his hands tighten around my ass and i moan at the contact.

his hand slips under my dress and to the lace material of my thong, his finger slide underneath the band of it. he lifts it before letting it go, the snap of my underwear against my skin making me moan louder.

“sit on my face,” he tells me in a low voice, i feel myself getting even more wet and excited at the tone of it, “let me give you another birthday gift.”

he lifts me by the waist and moves me so my core is hovering above his mouth. i grab onto his head board while jeremiah slowly moves the lace material to the side and lowers me onto his face.

i gasp loudly when his tongue licks a long stride between my folds. he moans into me, “fuck, you’re so wet for me, baby.” he mumbles against me, the vibrations causing me to throw my head back in pleasure.

jeremiah dips his tongue into me, licking up all the juices and tracing figure eights against me. i squeeze the headboard tighter, becoming a moaning mess quickly. his tongue is magic. he fucks me with his mouth, my thighs shaking around his head,

“shit, jere.” i cry out, feeling my high coming closer. his hands squeeze my ass yet again before landing a smack on my left ass cheek. i moan loudly in response, my body flowing with immense pleasure, “fuck, i’m gonna come!”

he never slows his tongue as i feel my orgasm come crashing down on me. waves of pure pleasure crashing down. jeremiah licks up every last drop as i slowly come down from the high. i move myself down from his face and back down towards his groin. i lean down to kiss his passionately, tasting myself on his lips,

“holy shit, i can eat you out all day long.” he says to me as his hands fumble with his pants. he kicks off his pants and boxers. his erection slaps his lower abdomen and i drool at the sight of it. it’s huge, red tip begging for attention and veins pulsating on the sides of it.

i move to give him a blowjob but his grip on my waist prevents me from moving, “it’s your birthday.” jeremiah tells me, “you can give me head another time.” he winks

my hips position themselves above his thick and veiny cock and i lower myself onto it. he fills me up perfectly and we both moan loudly at the same time. every inch of him inside on me as i bottom out.

i slowly start rocking my hips against him, both of us becoming a panting mess. his hands never leave my hips, lifting me and slamming me back down onto his dick.

“you feel so good, baby” he praises, “you tight pussy feels amazing around me, fuck”

i continue riding him, my hands tangled up in his hair, pulling it which makes him moan.

“i- i think your cock was made for me.” i whisper in his ear before kissing him harshly.

he smirks, “oh yeah?”

and i nodded feverishly before he flips us around so im on my back and his on top of me, “sorry baby, i want to be in control now”

he pulls out almost entirely before slamming himself back in, the new position making him hit me even deeper than he was before. he thrusts harder and deeper, my back arches and i grab onto the sheets beside me, “fuck i’m close” i cry

“me too, hold on.” he continues fucking me, littering kissing on my face and neck. i can feel my inner muscles squeezing around him which makes jeremiah groan, “i’m fucking gonna come.”

“let it go.” he encourages me, his thumb going down to start abusing the bundle of nerves. almost immediately, i feel myself orgasm. my legs tightening around his waist and i feel him finish inside of me. he releases a series of curse words as he fucks us both through our orgasms.

a few moments after he pulls out and rolls next to me. we’re both breathing heavily, trying to catch our breaths, “holy shit” i pant out, looking over at him.

he grins, “that was amazing.”

“beyond amazing.” i repeat and he laughs,

“fuck, i should’ve asked you this before.” he says, reaching over to cup my face, “will you be my girlfriend, y/n?”

i blush, “yes, a hundred times yes!”

—

taglist! @randomaccountworld123 @bxbyyyjocelyn @20nugs @jeremiahxaesthetic

#jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader #tsitp imagine #jeremiah fisher x y/n #tsitp x reader #jeremiah fisher angst #jeremiah fanfic #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah fisher fanfiction #jeremiah fisher fluff #jeremiah fisher smut #tsitp smut #the summer i turned pretty x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty smut #the summer i turned pretty fanfic

[thetriumphantpanda]

Hi Panda🐼 I hope you’re having an exciting day! and got some well deserved rest!

Anyhoo, so I have an idea for this prompt ❛ you look good like this. ❜ for Javier Peña. MIRROR SEX. Rough, fingering, choking, overstimulation just plain old filth.

Watcha think?

YOU BEAUTIFUL THING YOU. This has been sat in my inbox for an age so I'm sorry, but I have not been able to get away from this image... I hope I did justice to your request and thank you so much for sending it in! 😏

Pairing | Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count | 1K

Warnings | Just smut below the cut... I'm not even sorry anymore. Breath play, overstimulation, oral sex (F receiving), rough sex, unprotected PiV sex.

Main Masterlist

Your hair is stuck to your forehead by a thin film of sweat. It’s gripping to your neck in a way that would normally drive you insane and have you tugging it into a tie atop your head to get it out of the way, but this is different. Javier Pena has just drawn your third orgasm of the night from you. The first was at the mercy of his fingers, rubbing slow and languid circles over your clit whilst you leant against his chest on the couch. His lips kissing your neck, his teeth nipping small marks behind your ears as filth dropped from his mouth. 

The second came from his mouth, lips suckled to your clit like a man starved as he licked and sucked in equal measure, so much stimulation that you were sure Steve and Connie could hear the scream of his name from your lips as your fingers dragged his face from your pussy when the slow kisses meant to bring you through the aftershocks of your orgasm became too much. 

This one, the third, came from both. He’d wrapped you up in his arms and dragged you from the couch to his bed, giving you no more than 15 minutes to catch your breath and your thoughts before he was back between your thighs, his fingers buried deep in your weeping pussy whilst his tongue set a fast paste of licking at your clit. 

You led on the bed, chest heaving and bones turned to jelly, trying to catch your breath, when Javier took your wrist in his hand and pulled you to sit up, “Come with me, hermosa, I want to try something.” 

He pulled your wrist again to pull you off the bed, resting a hand at the small of your back to steady you as you walked on shaking legs to the full-length mirror on his wall, “Hands here.” He whispered into your ear, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin, hands pressing your own into the glass. 

His feet kicked at one of your ankles to spread your legs and a gentle but firm hand came to the back of your neck to press you forward into the mirror, your face close enough to leave steam on it when you let out a breath. You could hear Javi shedding his jeans behind you, could see it in the mirror in front of you. You moved your body just enough that you could see him in the mirror, jerking his cock in his fist as he smirked at you, making eye contact in the glass. 

“Eyes on the mirror, querida.” He breathed, lining himself up with your seeping entrance, burying himself inside you in one quick thrust. 

Your eyes met your own in the reflection as a moan drops from your lips. It’s a sight you didn’t realise you’d enjoy so much, watching yourself get fucked, but you had to admit you were thoroughly enjoying it. As Javi pulled his cock out and buried it right back inside you, your eyes met his own, a delicious smirk splayed across his mouth as he watched you enjoy the sight of yourself and your pleasure at his hands. 

As he set the pace of his hips snapping into you, one of his hands came to your throat, gripping just enough to catch your breath and send your pussy clenching around him. You watched his eyes dip to your collarbones, watching as pools of sweat caught in the dip of your throat as he squeezed his hand just a little harder, causing a twisted laugh to drop from your lips. 

“You look good like this.” He growled into your ear, as his free hand trailed from the grip it had held on your hip right back to your clit. 

“Javi please,” You begged, “Fuck… I… Jesus Christ.” 

“He’s not here, hermosa, it’s just me,” He grinned, taking your ear lobe into his mouth to nibble slightly, “What do you need?” 

“I don’t think… fuuuuck,” You moaned, the feeling of his fingers on your clit verging on pain rather than pleasure, “It’s too much, I don’t think I can.” 

“Of course you can,” He encouraged, “You’re such a good girl for me, hermosa, you can give me one more.” 

His hand gave another squeeze to your neck and your eyes dropped down, watching as Javi’s fingers circled your clit, you’d never watched this closely before and you could feel the white heat of your orgasm building. His lips were back on your neck, sucking marks and then pressing kisses to soothe them. The hand that had been gripping your throat was now back to gripping your hip and you were sure there would be bruises there in the morning. 

“Oh my God, Javi, I’m….” You couldn’t talk, the sensation of his cock filling you up, his lips on your neck and his hand drawing tight circles on your clit too much for you. 

“Ven por mi bebe.” 

As soon as his Spanish hit your ears your fourth orgasm ripped through you. If it wasn’t for Javi’s strong hands on your hips you’d have crumpled to the floor in a heap. 

“Good girl.” He moaned into your ear, catching your eyes in the reflection of the mirror as he pounded into your spent pussy a few more times, pulling out just in time to spill his thick ropes of cum over your backside. 

As he gathered his breath, one of his hands met yours on the mirror, tangling your fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. His other hand came to grab your other hand, pulling you from the mirror and guiding you towards the bed where you were grateful to flop face first into the sheets, not caring how silly it must have looked to the man behind you. 

You were almost asleep when you felt a warm cloth on your back, wiping away the mess he’d made, and then the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the swell of your ass. When the telltale dip of the mattress registered to your body you instinctively crawled into Javi’s waiting arms. 

“Remind me to apologise to Steve and Connie in the morning,” You mumbled into his neck, “I’m sure they heard everything.” 

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña smut #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña fic #narcos #javier peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #Pedro pascal #Javier Peña Pedro Pascal #JP drabbles

[noxturnalpascal]

Mutual

Steve Murphy x F!Reader (3.6k)

Summary: You and Steve spend some late nights in the office together, finding a new way to work off some of the frustrations of the never-ending hunt for the narcos.

Warnings: Basically all smut (and a big ole cock). Infidelity (only if your name is Connie).

A/N: A gift for one of my favorite - and long time - mutuals, @toxicanonymity. Thanks for everything you do for this community and for always being there whenever I need anything. Love you lots!!

You walk into the mostly-empty office holding two styrofoam cups of coffee and wearing a beleaguered expression. Immediately your eyes are drawn to Murphy’s hands, his elongated fingers, stained purple and red beneath the skin, cuts still oozing at his knuckles. You watch him stand up, take off his jacket and loosen his tie, then resume sitting behind his desk, completely ignoring your entrance. 

“You’re here late,” Peña offers.

“Yeah, well some of us can’t get away with doing whatever we want,” you quip back.

Peña’s hand flies to his chest and pouts his lower lip as if your words have wounded him. You roll your eyes. You look back towards Murphy and can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing his wedding ring. You wonder why. He still hasn’t looked up, busy flipping through paperwork, making notes in the margins.

“Seriously though, why are you here so late? I bet your boyfriend doesn’t like that,” Peña teases.

“I’ve told you several times that I don’t have a boyfriend, Peña.”

“And I’ve told you several times to call me Javi,” he coos. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again as he maintains eye contact. “Besides, if you’re single, why don’t I ever see you going on dates?”

“Because I’m here, working through dinner with you cowboys!” 

Steve huffs a laugh at that and when you look at him he’s finally looking your way, eyebrows raised and pointing to one of the steaming cups in your hand. You hand it over, his long, bruised fingers brushing over yours during the exchange, and then offer the other cup to his partner. He doesn’t reach for it.

“Actually ma’am,” Peña says in a mock accent as he tips an invisible cowboy hat to you, “this ole cowboy has a late dinner date.” He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, hastily shoves his arms into it, gives a wink to you, and heads out without another word.

“Don’t mind him,” Murphy says, “a ‘late dinner date’ is just code for hooker.”

Now it’s your turn to chuckle. Why isn’t he wearing his wedding ring tonight? Maybe he took it off earlier when he was washing the blood from his hands but… No, you don’t remember seeing it then either. You realize he’s looking at you, watching you stare at his fucking hands. He’s gotta know you like his hands, right? It’s not awkward. He’s gotta know.

“That looks painful,” you don’t look away from them. “Was it worth it?”

“I dunno yet,” he goes back to flipping through his papers. “Ask me tomorrow.”

Murphy’s little stunt earlier didn’t just mean his hands were a cut-up mess, it also meant he’d have pulled the short straw to finish the paperwork needed to try and sweep it under the rug. If all went well, and they’d put the right amount of money into the right people’s pockets, he could get away with having beat that snarky reporter’s face in and no one around here would be asking too many questions in the morning. It’s going to be a long night. 

You grab the papers off Peña’s desk, carry them to the far end of the office, not your normal desk, and begin typing up his notes into a formal report. Your normal desk was upstairs outside the Ambassador’s office, being one of his attachés meant you traveled with him in-country and helped during his posting at his discretion. You were one of his favorite attachés and that came with a lot of perks; always flying with him and his family in the private jet instead of slumming it in commercial, a plant-covered, sun-lit desk by the window, and always being trusted with the most confidential of orders. 

Unfortunately for you, lately, his orders had you spending long-nights with the feckless DEA agents trying to make orderly, lawful reports of their chaotic and illicit methods to catch the narcos. The ambassador trusted few else but you to spin their lawless nonsense into cohesive accounts with diplomatically-acceptable language. You knew your long hours were appreciated - by the Ambassador if by no one else - and you really didn’t have much of a life outside of work, so it wasn’t the worst problem to have. Besides, working late came with its own set of perks.

---

You’re not sure how much time has passed but as you wrap up typing Peña’s chicken-scratch, you look up to see if Murphy is anywhere close to being done only to find him not at his desk. You wait a few minutes and when he still hasn’t returned you get up and walk past it. His desk is more centrally located than the one you were using and from here you can see the whole office. The coffee cup sits empty, the ashtray overflowing, his coat hanging limply from his chair. But no Murphy. You walk towards the main entrance, pass the department secretary’s desk, call out his name, and receive no answer in return. 

Just as you’re about to turn and go back to your work, you see just a fraction of movement out of the corner of your eye. The blinds in Messina’s office just beyond the secretarial desk are all closed except the ones covering the window on the door, which are raised just a fraction. 

Is he? Again? He must like this more than you thought. 

You make your way to the DEA lead’s office door and test the knob - unlocked - just like you knew it would be. Pushing the door open slowly and flipping on the lights has you greeted with a groan. It’s Murphy, sitting on his boss’s leather office couch, cock in hand. 

“When we say you DEA boys do nothing but sit around all day with your dicks in your hands, this isn’t what we mean,” you tease. He doesn’t even try to cover himself, doesn’t make a move to hide what he’s doing. This is definitely part of it. He likes this. You’ll have to play your part. “What kind of a man has to jerk off at work? Things really that bad at home?” 

He groans again, and you watch his big right hand squeezing himself at the base of his thick cock. You’re not sure how long he’s been in here but he’s apparently just been edging himself, if the ruddy head and pearlescent beads leaking from his tip are any indication. Just based on the size of him you always thought he might have a respectable dick, but the fact that it still looks massive, even in his giant fucking hands, is even more impressive. 

“Sorry you had to catch me like this,” he grumbles, as if he didn’t orchestrate this entire scenario for that very reason. He hasn’t resumed touching himself, he just holds it - enormous and erect - like an obelisk of flesh. 

“I don’t think you are sorry, you filthy pervert.” You close the door behind you and walk to Messina’s desk, sitting on the edge of it facing him. “I think you fucking love getting caught with that big cock out, don’t you?”

He sucks air and squeezes even tighter as you watch the clear precum flowing out of his slit and running over his flushed head.

“C’mon, Murphy,” you begin to slowly unbutton your blouse. “You’d better get it over with before more people walk in here and see that big, fat cock of yours.”

Almost like he was waiting for your permission, he begins pumping himself, using the viscous liquid running down his shaft to lubricate his strokes. You untuck your blouse and pull it off completely, folding it next to you on the desk while you watch him - completely dressed - jerking off. Aside from his loosened tie thrown over his shoulder, he’s still wearing the same outfit he came to work in, not even the blood-spattered sleeves of his rumpled white dress shirt have been rolled up. Just like last time, and each time before that, the only skin he’s showing you are his hands, wrapped around his dick and balls. 

You pull your eyes away from what his hands are doing and make eye contact with him, seeing him break away to watch you undo your bra, letting it fall slowly down your arms to reveal your breasts to him. You set it next to you on the desk and sit back on your hands, sticking your chest to the sky. He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he speaks.

“Gonna take more than that, honey. Do it like last time.” And there it is, the first time he’s acknowledged that this is a repeat occurrence.

Like last time. You’d thought last time might have gone too far, thought maybe you’d scared him off, especially since it was weeks ago that it’d happened. But apparently not. Apparently it wasn’t too much. Apparently it was just enough… and he’s been thinking about it happening again.

You stand up off the desk, slowly pulling down on the zipper at the back of your skirt, letting your breasts push forwards while your hands work behind you. You watch as he licks his lips, tugging slowly up and down his shaft, gently squeezing his balls with his left hand. You pull your skirt down your legs, folding it and placing it with your other clothes next to you. You stick your fingers in the waistband of your pantyhose and underwear - the only clothes you have left on - and watch him slowly nod his head, eyes glued to your center, ready and waiting.

You slowly pull down your remaining garments, feeling the relative chill of the office air hitting your bare cunt as you bend forward. Once the hose is at your ankles you turn around to brace yourself on the desk, giving him the view you were just denying him. He moans, lowly. You bend forward, a hand on the desk, and slip off each shoe one by one, pulling the hose and your underwear over each foot. You finally stand to place them on the desk with everything else and then turn back to face the couch.

He’s slowed down so much his hand is barely moving now, just brushing languidly over the head of his cock, smearing the steady flow leaking out. You sit back on the desk and slowly, so slowly, spread your legs open. You hear him growl a yeahhh in response. “This what you wanted, Murphy?” You tease.

“You know what I want,” he whines through clenched teeth, “so give it to me.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to give me orders, you fuckin’ creep,” you snap, knowing it goes straight to his cock by the way his left hand tightens on his balls.

You oblige him anyways, knowing you need this just as badly as he does at this point. You take the middle finger of your dominant hand and run it up and down your slit, lips parting easily since you’re already so wet. You’ve probably been wet since you noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring earlier. Maybe the rumors about Connie leaving the country were true, maybe his marriage is actually over. So if that’s his excuse for being a horny pervert, what was yours?

You tease your finger over your hole, spreading your legs wider so he can see every slick movement you make. You drag your wetness up to your clit and part your folds with your other hand, drawing smooth circles around your sensitive bud. 

“You’d better hurry up, you disgusting deviant, because I’m leaving the second I come,” you command.

You don’t bother to wait for him to look you in the eye to measure your sincerity, you just increase the pace and pressure of your finger and throw your head back, moaning in ecstasy. You can hear him speed up his movements, can hear the sound of skin on skin schlocking quicker as he chases his release. Last time didn’t take long. Last time you got a few circles over your clit and he was coming all over his pale-yellow dress shirt. Last time you had to finish yourself at home, reduced to fantasizing about his cock while you cried out alone in your bed.

The thought has you changing course. Maybe you can actually come this time, if not before him at least the sound of his grunting orgasm could push you over the edge. It won’t be too much, right? He’s gonna get off - again - so why shouldn't you? You drag your fingers back to your hole, leaking wetness down your thighs. He makes a sharp intake of breath. Your head is still thrown back but he’s clearly watching you. You slowly insert two fingers, coating them with your wetness and then pumping them faster in and out.

The sounds of your fingers squelching in and out of your wet hole fill the room now, drowning out his pistoning hand and huffing breaths. It’s probably why you don’t hear him get off the couch, don’t hear him walk to the desk, don't hear him panting right in front of you. You don’t even know he’s there until the heat of his left hand is spanning across the inside of your thigh, halfway between your knee and your core.

You lift your head quickly, a sharp intake of breath instead of a scream, and see his nearly-black eyes watching your faltering hand with rapt attention.

“Can you fit a third?” he rasped. “I bet you can.” Your pussy clenches around your fingers.

You know a snappy quip wouldn’t go amiss but for some reason - with the heat of his hand matching the heat of his gaze - you can’t seem to get one past your lips. You drag your fingers out slowly and line up a third with the other two, already soaked and dripping. Steadily, you insert them back in your greedy hole as he squeezes your thigh - his massive grip taking up an obscene amount of real estate on your leg - and brings himself so close that you can feel his moving knuckles wafting cool air over your wet lips.

His dick is so fucking close. It would be so easy for him to just fucking stick it inside you. But he’s married. That’s what he’d made sure to say the first time… and the second. I’m married, as if it meant anything to you. Just help me out, he’d begged, and you were more than willing. Just a married guy needing a pretty, eager girl to look at. You’d been dreaming about Steve Murphy’s dick since he wore a tight pair of jeans his second week here, and you got a glimpse of the massive bulge he had hidden in them. Well, it was hard to hide, and now you know why.

But then you remember - eyes darting to his left hand, still hot on your skin - he’s not wearing his wedding ring. 

“You ever fuck a woman with that cock, Murphy? Or just your hand?”

The sound that comes out of his mouth can only be described as a whimper. He moves his hand up your thigh, closer to where you want it, and squeezes your flesh again. His fist is making practiced moves over his length, starting mid-shaft where his girth widens and pushing up over his crown with fluttering fingers. He’s giving himself pressure on the underside where he’s most sensitive, then gathering the constant stream spilling down his cockhead and over his knuckles, and spreading it out on his downstroke. You feel him press in closer, so close, his eyes not wavering from your fingers plunging in and out of your sopping hole. 

Then, it happens.

He’s moved so close that his knuckles graze along your spread lips, hitting right at your clit - four in a row - like the brief kiss of a vibrator. You almost scream. And Murphy notices. Oh, does he notice. Your movements have come to a halt, as have his, and you both wait to see what the other does next. A sly grin settles across his face.

“I thought you were in a hurry?” He taunts.

He pushes his left hand down into your thigh - spreading you open to your limit - and takes his right hand off his dick. He grabs your hand by the wrist, pulling your fingers out of you with a wet, suctioning noise. You watch him put your hand onto his dick, covering it with his much larger hand, and spread your own shocking wetness down and back up his shaft. He lets your hand go but before it can resume its place inside you, he’s closed the gap, pushing his pelvis forward, bouncing his cock against your hooded clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation. 

“You’d better hurry up and come, honey, before Javi comes back to see you spread eagle like this.”

“Fuck you,” you manage to choke, hating how he thinks he has the upper hand now.

He stops tapping his rounded head on your sensitive bud and instead rubs himself left to right, the change in movement hitting you like a lightning bolt. 

“You’d better come before I do, naughty girl,” he continues to tease, echoing your earlier demand.

“So give it to me,” you answer, echoing his. 

He pushes forward, cock held tightly in his fist, and fits his wide head into your hole, making you gasp. You brace for the rest of it - the stretch, the sting - but it never comes. You wiggle your hips, even tilt your pelvis towards him the little bit you can from your position on the desk, and all you feel is his fist hitting your sticky lips.

“Murphy.”

His stupid fucking grin. Hmmmm? He’s watching you struggle.

“Quit playing around,” you whine.

“Quit playin’ around,” he repeats. He lifts his dick upwards, popping it out of its shallow entry, then slowly lines it back up, bumping around clumsily - on purpose - before putting just the tip back inside you.

“Fuck you, Murphy,” you hiss.

“Fuck me?” He repeats the motion of popping himself out, poking around, and then giving you just a fraction of what you know he could be giving you.

“Fuck me, Murphy, fuck me.” You throw your head back as he goes through the motions a third time. “Please, Murphy. Please fuck me.”

He lines himself up again at your weeping hole, but this time you feel both of his hands grabbing at the meat of your hips. He pulls you down onto him and pushes himself up into you in equal measure, slowly but steadily filling you up. You hear him groaning, hear yourself whining, high-pitched and strung-out. You feel the sting, you feel the stretch, you feel the weight of him pressing into you until his pelvis bumps yours. You’re both watching where he’s disappeared into you, the silence stretching on.

“You ready for this big fuckin’ cock, honey?”

“I’ve had bigger,” you lie.

He pulls back quickly and slams forward into you, rocking the desk you lie on, and knocking over a cup of pencils. You both ignore them clattering onto the floor as he pounds into you relentlessly. The wet smacking noise of your bodies clapping together, the huffing groans coming out of both your mouths, the smell of sweat and sex and coffee. He fills you up so perfectly, hitting every place deep inside you that you never even knew existed. It’s so much better than it was in your fantasies. You reach down to touch your clit and this time it’s you that comes after only a few circles around it.

You can’t fucking help yourself. His bloody knuckles turned white with their tight grip at your hips, his furrowed brow and utter concentration - pupils blown large - staring at himself fucking your cunt, his grunts of pleasure as he finally finally gives you his fat fucking cock. You cry out his name, feeling yourself clench around his length, flooding him with your release, hearing the sounds change from lewd to obscene. And you watch his face go from focused to downright pained. 

He pulls himself out of you with a snarl and pumps his cock overtop you - coming immediately - white ropes covering your belly. He groans through it, continuing to cover you with a surprising amount, then leans over you and with his cock in hand, rubbing it into your skin with his dick. He rubs his cock back and forth, pumping it lazily, rubbing his sensitive head against your sticky skin and continuing to shudder from the overstimulation. Once he’s squeezed the last of his climax out, he steps back and tucks his dick away into his pants.

---

“Sorry again,” he mumbles, running his hand through his hair as you redress on shaky legs. “I really oughta stop doin’ this shit at work. It’s inappropriate, like you said.”

“Uh huhhh,” you answer, unconvinced. 

You wish you had it in you to continue this little charade but you’ve just orgasmed all over someone’s desk and your cock-drunk little mind is having difficulty making sense of anything right now. You reach down to slip on a shoe and although you were bracing yourself on the desk, you still begin to tip over. Murphy catches you with a gentle but firm grip, his huge hand curling around your arm and settling you upright. His hand remains holding you, the heat of it burning you through your blouse.

“Maybe next time we can just go to my place,” he purrs, meeting your surprised look with a wink.

.

.

.

Boyd Tax: handsssss

#boyd-a-thon #boydo #fic event #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook smut #boyd bungalow ☠️ #toxicanonymity ☠️ #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #narcos fanfiction #mutual

[novantinuum]

Steven Q. Universe is not 145 lbs in Future and I will gladly die on this hill

Aight. I'm tired of the SU fan wiki spreading this too. Here we go. Here are a few reasons why the listing of his weight (and quite honestly, height too) on the wiki are nonsense and need to stop being spread around as fact.

Reason one: Steven's body proportions were completely in flux that entire episode anyways, and there's a good possibility even Priyanka's final "measurements" are inaccurate to his baseline.

Think about it.

We already see evidence of his height fluctuation in the hospital scene as it is.

Connie's mother writes down a measurement...

Notices him sprout just a little taller...

And quickly corrects her measurements.

Not to mention, we've seen evidence of his weight fluctuating just an episode before.

In Together Forever, while ruminating on the thought of Connie moving so far away for college, he turns pink and then sinks really hard into his mattress, as if he actively became heavier while he thought about these literally heavy thoughts.

If his height was fluctuating during the exam, it only makes sense that his weight was, too.

Reason 2: Priyanka has a specific way she writes the number 4

Here is the full, completed clipboard. You can tell the whole thing was filled out by Priyanka, all text is in the same handwriting.

Here is a close-up of her entries on height and weight.

The awkward number correction on the height makes sense. It's hard to tell if what she wrote at first was 5'1" or 5'6" but whatever it was, it seems she ultimately decided to change it to 5'5".

The weight entry is... corrected as well, but in a somewhat nebulous way.

People keep thinking that this entry was corrected to "145," but here's the thing- she doesn't write 4s like that.

She doesn't close her 4s.

I'm more drawn to believe she was correcting a number into a 9 by closing it, but to be fair, I will admit that her her normal, uncorrected 9s aren't as pointy and angular. It's not a 4, though. It doesn't make sense for it to be a 4. Why would you correct a number into a 4 in a different way than you normally write it? Closing a number into a wonky 9 is one thing, 9s have to be closed. But writing an open 4 and then correcting another one by closing it is just... gah. It doesn't make sense to me.

BUT. Here's the thing. Here's why- at the day- Steven's true weight is DEFINITELY not 145.

Reason 3: That is literally not how bodies work.

Folks, please remember that Steven is fat. He is consistently drawn with thick limbs and a tummy, EVEN in Steven Universe Future.

And as someone who has spanned the whole gamut between 195 and 145 lbs at various points of my life... let me tell you from personal experience that Steven absolutely does NOT have a 145 lbs sort of frame.

And like, I'm not gonna pin my money on 195 lbs exactly because of reason number one- Steven being in a complete state of proportional flux that episode anyways- but it's definitely a measurement that is FAR more in the realm of realism than 145.

Once again, in sum:

Steven is not 145 lbs and the measurements taken in this ep need to all be taken with an intense grain of salt anyways because he was literally shrinking and growing all over the map, thank you

#su #su future #steven universe #su meta #jen rambles

[themelongum]

truth or dare that plays out perfectly for jean, but not so much for eren

multi-chaptered rating: explicit main pairings: eren/reader; jean/reader AU: college; band

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere,” Sasha shouted, peeking out of the doorway. Wobbling her way, she approached our lounging area, glancing between me and Eren with a huge, silly grin on her lips.

“Just how much did you drink?” I asked, assessing her current state.

“Didn’t count,” she replied, giggling. “And, well, looks like someone was smoking,” she whisper-yelled, pointing at the joint with her widened eyes. “Didn’t know you kept secrets from me… Oh, secrets, right! I came to steal you for the ‘Truth or Dare’. Everyone’s in there ready to play, so let’s go.” She stretched out her arms and shook them, signaling for me to take her hands.

I did exactly that, getting off the bench, when she glanced over my shoulder. “You too, Eren!”

His nose wrinkled as he looked up at her. “Why do we have to play these stupid games every damn time?”

“Because we want to know your secrets, Eren.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, don’t be so grumpy!”

His gaze slid to me, and I shrugged my shoulders, tilting my head with a smile as if telling him “Why not?”.

Through the noise of an ongoing party, Sasha led us upstairs, where it was much quieter. As soon as we entered a room that I detected as Historia’s, all eyes turned to us. Everyone I’d met so far was in that room, apparently forming their entire friend group.

Under their gazes—some warm and welcoming, some cold and wary—I made my way to the sofa, sitting next to Sasha, who plopped there, moving Marco and Connie. I had to shift even closer to the girl when Eren decided to sit there too. Next to him, Mikasa, Armin, and Annie sat on a smaller couch placed in an L-shape arrangement, while Jean stretched in an armchair at the opposite end of the bedroom.

Scanning the room, I met eyes with Reiner, who was sitting right across me on the edge of a king-sized bed, along with Bertholdt. On the other end of the bed, Historia was lying on her side, with Ymir sitting behind her.

“Alright, everyone’s finally here, so we can start,” Connie said, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. “You all know the rules. Pick the truth, tell the truth. Pick a dare, do the dare.”

“Very informative,” Annie chimed in, her cheeks burning red and her eyes slit.

“If you’re a pussy, you can opt out by drinking.” Connie raised one of the liquor bottles off the table. He then focused his gaze on me, smirking before he said, “Our new girl here will start the game. Choose the lucky one.”

Shit, Connie, why me? I’m terrible at coming up with dares or truths. But at least I don’t have to be the first one to do them, I guess.

“Okay.” I gulped, feeling all eyes on me. “Connie, truth or dare?” I stared at the boy with a grin.

“Dare. You can dare me to kiss you, I won’t mind,” he replied, wiggling his brows.

But Connie didn’t get a kiss. Instead, he got a perfectly uneven mustache drawn on his face with a permanent marker. A little heart on his right cheek served as a consolation prize.

One after another, the truths were told and the dares were done. Prompted by Connie, Bertholdt ate a spoonful of hot sauce, and Annie then did fifty push-ups. Historia asked Eren about his body count over the summer, and when he said it was four, she labeled him a manwhore. Ymir flipped Reiner off when he asked her if she was a lesbian. And poor Marco had to jump in the cold pool water fully clothed and then just sit there soaking wet with only towels to help him.

When Reiner called my name, answering who was the hottest girl in the room, everyone seemed to be as surprised as me. Feeling my cheeks getting warmer, I averted my gaze to the side with an awkward smile.

As it came to Sasha, she fixed her eyes on me. Knowing her the longest out of anyone there, I was sure I would be safe with anything, so I chose to tell the truth. But I soon learned that I shouldn’t have trusted her in a state of inebriety.

“I know you don’t date, but are you into hook-ups?” she asked, raising her brows and giggling. “And,” she continued, “who would you pick out of everyone here?”

I could feel the burning on my skin from all the stares directed at me.

Why, Sasha? Quick, quick. I need to think of something.

“You don’t date?” Connie chimed in. “What about our marriage and four kids? Man, you’re ruining my plans,” he said, scrunching his brows and shaking his head in disappointment.

“Four kids is wild.” I laughed. “And don’t worry, Sash, you’d be the first one on the list if I had any,” I answered, earning a smug smile from her. Hoping that would do, I hurried to deflect the attention away from myself. “Mikasa, truth or dare?” The girl looked at me for a while before choosing to do a dare.

“I dare you to be my gym partner for a month,” I said absentmindedly, thinking she would take a shot. Mikasa, however, agreed to the dare, following with the warning about the intensity of her workouts and her strict schedule. And at this point, it seemed as if the dare was more mine than hers.

With the amount of voluntary and involuntary drinking, things got heated up. Some of the deepest secrets came to the surface, shamefully covered by blushing and averted gazes.

At one point, Connie and Sasha had to exchange their clothes, which was obviously more challenging for the former. Comfortable in a loose shirt and baggy pants, Sasha couldn’t contain her laughter every time she looked at the boy, who had to cover his nether regions for the rest of the night.

“Jean, truth or dare?” Sasha asked, bringing my attention to the guy, who had been quiet lately.

“Dare.” His eyes were already half-lidded as he nonchalantly scanned the room.

“I dare you,” she said, pausing for a second, “to kiss one of the girls.”

I didn’t know why, but I felt my heart sink at her words. It was probably the alcohol to blame, as everyone was practically wasted by that time.

Without hesitation, Jean got up from his seat and made his way across the room, confident in his moves, like he knew his target all along and was waiting for that dare to happen.

He was walking towards Mikasa. He didn’t look at her or at anyone in particular, but his movements said it all. Who else could it be on this trajectory? Certainly not Sasha. And Mikasa’s wavering gaze was more than telling, too.

Will he kiss her? Will she kiss him back?

My breath hitched when he turned to me, leaning closer. “’Tis okay?” he whispered, halting inches before my face, his eyes locked with mine. My mind went blank, and the only thing I could do was give him a nod, straightening in my seat.

In a second, his warm lips landed on mine, moving gently and rhythmically. He placed one of his hands on my left cheek, while the other slid from my back to my waist, pulling me closer.

His hold on me was firm, his strong arms lifting me slightly from the sofa. Reaching for his neck, I trailed my fingers up and down as we both deepened the kiss. His tongue pushed past my lips, getting full access to my mouth, and I caressed it with my own, tasting a tinge of his liquor.

As we pulled away, I softly smiled at Jean, finding a grin on his lips. The extended eye contact became too much, and I shyly averted my gaze to the side, only for my eyes to be met with Eren’s intense stare.

He looked at me blankly, with no emotion visible on his face. But just a second before he looked away, I spotted something in his eyes, almost as if he was…

Disappointed?

another little something read the whole thing here or here

#aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #jean kirstein #eren jaeger #eren yeager #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschstein #aot x reader #ao3 fanfic

[castilles]

"Keep your hands off my teammate," Leon growls as she shoves Matthew up against the wall. It had been painful to watch Matthew practically draping herself on Connie whenever she had the chance, Connie becoming increasingly flustered every time Matthew’s hands had found themselves wandering; as her A, it's only Leon's duty to intervene. "Oh, does Connie know you called dibs?" Matthew replies, seemingly unphased. "I don’t see why we can’t share—" "— besides," her hands make their way to Leon’s waist, fingers pulling softly at the bottom of Leon’s top, and Leon suddenly feels as though she’s the one on the back foot, "I wouldn’t mind if it was you."

Based on @adelphenium's gorgeous mcmattdrai drawing!

I've also drawn Connie McDavid here!

#if you're reading this please feel free to write this au because i'll never get around to it #r63 mcmattdrai au #leon draisaitl #matthew tkachuk #mattdrai #mcmattdrai #leeposting #castilles art

[weebsinstash]

I'd be judging the hell out of Mom!Reader for naming her twins GABRIEL and GABRIELLA!!!! (Not judging her that much for instigating Miguel to get me or something, I mean. Stockholm syndrome is a bitch. and also. I get it, the power of big d and all that stuff) GIRL. That's the SAME NAME!!!!!

Smh there's so many beautiful names in spanish but MomReader and Miguel 2 are lacking in the creativity department.

Miguel over here watching Mom!You being so radiant and joyful while showing off her chunky babies and he's sending sly glances to you, lowkey being a snob as he thinks "OUR babies would have much better names" and before he knows it he's building up this little fantasy in his head by accident. He keeps hearing these little stories or details from the other you and the other him and in his head he keeps thinking of what he would've done, how he thinks it would've gone for you and him, and you two are not even in a relationship. In fact depending on how drawn out this gets, you haven't even been in the Spider Society for several weeks and are at home with no intention of ever coming back, heartbroken, alone

I even thought of "what if an afab Reader got so desperate to escape canon and have freedom again that she gets pregnant by a stranger and literally carries a full pregnancy so she can abandon the baby, because the kid will eventually become a Spider and maybe they'll take over the canon and then you'll be able to do whatever you want" because you're just. You're so upset that canon is controlling your life and basically like ENSLAVING you that you're desperate

Lmao Peter B sneaks back to see you even though he isn't supposed to and finds you, he's ecstatic, "oh my god you're SUPER pregnant!" and he knows he isn't supposed to see you but he zips it and goes back home and, months later he visits you again with gifts, "so where's the baby?" "I dunno, where IS the baby? :)"

Would the baby technically be an anomaly since you weren't supposed to have it, not like this? What if they had to get rid of it to re-stabilize the timeline or whatever? Now you're being EXTRA shunned because, "wow you went through all that just for yourself huh 🙄 you'd rather abandon a baby than get married..." like people just beyond appalled with you, meanwhile you feel extra victimized because, wow that was all for nothing, you're trying to rethink strategies since "the contigency" didn't work out.

Or less dark but imagine dumping that kid and then some time later you're invited back to the Spider Society and it's like "oh hey Miguel what's the deal with this random baby you're taking care of" and you don't even recognize it, don't even know, you didn't even look at it hard enough to ever really know what it looked like, and, well, WE know whose baby it is lmao. You thinking you escaped from it and it's off living its own life and is going to someday free you and they, maybe not even realizing your intentions and just thinking you were scared, are raising it to give it back to you. I'd go absolutely wild lmao. Their shock when you break it to them "I literally nicknamed it Connie as in contingency, I never even knew what sex it was, I never even fed it, oh my god get it out of here, you're ruining everything"

Miguel MAKING YOU raise it even if its like tbh a fucked up little accident, or, if it's the whole "anomaly baby's gotta go" situation, after the, uh, disposal, he realizes he's pushed you way too far and you're too stressed and scared to think and behave rationally anymore and THIS is where he basically assigns himself as your caretaker and eventually takes you for himself which is kiiiiiiiiinda for the best because you're losing it a little. Like idk I imagine with LYLA maybe he has her programmed to tell him his own canon or he can look at it himself but like, what if he avoided spoilers because he wanted his behavior with you to be authentic or whatever. Like Miguel 2 might let him know "yeah dude turns out we hook up with them in a lot of different universes, it's almost like a separate canon like Peter Parker having Mary Jane" and Miguel takes some sneak peeks at other realities and then he shuts himself off from it so he can move forward of his own accord, but he now knows a sort of guideline and maybe some things to avoid doing (he can see the reality where the YouTwo disaster is going down and he's like "I would NEVER make MY You feel replaced *acts like having Mom!You and Miguel2 around doesn't count, the denial is stored in his ass, that's why it's so big*")

He's got a little notebook or data log where he takes down notes and details on things you like, things he notices about you, things you do often, habits, favorite foods, favorite color, how often are you doing your laundry (he knows you keep re-wearing that bra, girl), are you making your bed, how well are you functioning. Jesus, he literally has technology that can recreate extremely hyperdetailed recreation simulations; if he isn't outright putting camera bots in your room, he can "recreate" however you've been spending your day. He can learn all your routines and rituals and habits, decide what things may be problems, what things you might need more of in your life, he's, studying you really, with a romantic and almost scientific obsession

Not to be all 50 shades of gray in here but would Miguel eventually come onto you, all pent up and control finally bursting, "if we were made for each other, you must like taking it as hard as I like to give it" and whether you want it or not he takes you, and your bodies feel like they fit together perfectly, he stretches you out and fills you up JUST right, you can't help but have your eyes roll into the back of your head with how good it is, and of course he used any good reactions out of you as an excuse/"sign" he's doing the right thing and to keep going, that you're consenting, that he's finally winning you over

Who know; the two of you might start having those babies faster than you both initially thought 😳

#yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts

[netherfeildren]

I am a lantern

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Birdie realizes she’s pregnant. This takes place some time within the events of chapter 2 and 3 of Fear of God. 

Content Warnings: Established relationship; Fluff; Unprotected sex; Domestic kink; Oral sex; Discussions of menstruation; Mention of rough sex; Pregnancy; Internal angst

A/N: Surprise, surprise!! In honor of FoG reaching 15k hits on AO3 here’s the first of my planned extras for the FoG universe :) Thank you so much for all of your love and support 💗

Art is Psyche Weeping by Kink Y. Craft (2009)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.3K

Read on AO3

“Here ya go, sweetheart.” He hands you the bowl of dinner he’d whipped up for the two of you. 

You’d taken to avoiding the mess hall recently, too attached to the cocoon you’d wrapped yourselves in together – always wanting to be alone, basking in each other’s presence, preparing meals for one another, and then going to bed together to feel each other’s skin and fuck until either of you was too exhausted to move. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, turning your face up to him for a kiss with your eyes still on the notes you’re reading. There was too much to do lately. The clinic was so busy and Connie had veritably checked out, only popping in once in a while, leaving the heavy lifting to you with Nancy’s assistance. You’re exhausted, a little overwhelmed, entirely terrified with a perpetual black cloud of self doubt and anxiety hovering over your head at all hours of the day. You aren’t prepared for this… you aren’t even a real doctor, for fuck’s sake. Not really — not in any terms that would’ve counted before. Just whatever semblance of one the apocalypse had chewed up and spit out – an entire community was way too much responsibility for you alone. You feel the backs of your eyes pinch. Your back aches and your head throbs and your stomach has been simmering on a low grade of nausea all day long, but you still have so much to go over.

-

When he walks out again, his own bowl in hand, you’re buried face down in your notes, aggressively loud sobs wracking your body. He stares at you for a second, brow pulled down low, and all you can do is look up at him and practically wail. 

Jesus, Birdie. He sighs, long and drawn out, he’s been waiting for this – had felt the storm brewing all evening. Something’s been bugging you or setting you off the past few days, and try as he might, he can’t figure out what the real problem is. He doesn’t want to ask outright just yet – he knows you’re stressed. Connie’s been pushing harder and harder to get you to agree to let him call it quits, and Joel knows you’re scared and stressed and feeling unnecessarily unsure of yourself. If you’d asked him, he thinks you’re ready for the responsibility – more than ready. No one would be able to take care of the community better than your kind and gentle hands and magnificent mind would. 

He sets his bowl down, you’ve not even touched yours, and if it weren’t for the tears, the two of you’d be having words right now about your irresponsible eating habits. He hates when you get so distracted you forget meals, fills him with an inordinate amount of stress. He just needs to know that you’re well fed and taken care of at all times, it’s as simple as that. “Alright, sweetheart. That’s enough.” He pulls your mess of papers and journals and books and your ugly, orange throw from your lap and sets it all gently on the table beside you – ignores your protests as he wraps one arm behind your back and another one under your knees. “You’re done for the night.” He pulls the book you’re trying to reach for out of your hands and scoops you up into his arms with a grunt. Damn knees. “You’re goin’ to bed. No more working tonight.” You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder to continue your sobbing. 

“I– I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you hitch and hiccup. “I’m not finished,” you protest, “I have more to go over,” but your arms tighten around him, and he feels you mouth at the skin of his neck. Emotional and needy, recently. Hungry for his cock and his hands and his tongue at all hours of the day. Not that he was complaining, at all. But he did wonder what’d gotten into you. 

“You are for tonight,” he says softly, “You’re exhausted. Don’t tell me you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you grouch, stubborn and too adorable for your own good. His heart pinches a little. Your weight is so slight in his arms, carrying you up the stairs, just a little bird. He wonders, more often than not, how something so small can be so powerful, can terrify him so much, hold so much sway over his life, his very existence. It scares him enough to keep him away from you, as much as he can force himself, at least, even if he sees it for the lie within himself that it truly is. The two of you are practically living together at this point. As much as he feels like he needs to force himself to lie or pretend that this is still just sex, still just something to ease your individual loneliness, if he gives himself a moment to be really, really honest with himself, he knows what this truly is. 

But for now, for a little while longer at least, as long as he can stretch it out, he’ll swallow the truth of the two of you, swallow it down and pretend it’s less than what it is. That it isn’t absolutely everything.

He sets you down gently on his bed, the sheets still rumpled from when he’d fucked you this morning before he’d sent you off to work, shaky legs, leaking cunt and all. His favorite way to start the day. He helps you settle in, pulls off your leggings and his own thick socks he’d pulled over your cold feet earlier and tucks the covers in around you. He eyes the stack of books on the bedside table, a mix of his own historical fiction and westerns and the cracked and well loved spines of some of your medical texts and scientific journals  – wherever he turned his eye in his house, there were signs of you, signs of the way you’d settled into his life, become an intrinsic part of his existence. He wonders for a moment if he should go as far as taking them downstairs with him, but when he looks down at your sleepy, tear swollen eyes gazing up at him, he decides you’re probably too tired to disobey. 

“Sleep,” he says down at you with false severity. He’s sure he’s entirely transparent, and as you turn your face into his pillow he catches the quick quirk of your smile… yeah, definitely transparent. He hears your muffled yes, sir, as he turns to go back downstairs and tidy up the kitchen before he comes back to join you in bed.

When he makes it back upstairs, his abandoned dinner, scarfed down quickly, and the kitchen cleaned, of course, of course, the bedside lamp is on and your face is buried in one of your textbooks. You’re holding it so close to your face, the tip of your nose almost brushes it, and he scoffs, typical, at the sight of you, but when he looks down he takes in the entire lithe length of you stretched out across his bed. The t-shirt of his you’re wearing has ridden up over your ass so that your little, pink, polka dot panties are peeking up at him. The soft cotton has ridden up into the cleft of your ass so that the elastic digs into the lush swell of your bottom, and he feels his cock stir at the sight. 

Yeah… too adorable, too damn beautiful for your own good. Definitely… He’s going to lick and kiss and bite all of that gorgeous skin in a second.

“What’d I tell you, Birdie?”

“Just one second–” you mumble into the page, not even turning to look at him. He goes into the restroom to brush his teeth, listens to the sound of you turning the pages, one second his ass. If he didn’t forcibly take the book out of your hand and fuck you to sleep you’d never put the damn thing down. Joel supposes he can make the sacrifice.

He comes back out into the bedroom, pulling his shirt over the back of his head and shucking his jeans and boxers down his legs before kneeling behind you on the bed. He reaches for your panties, fuck– he really likes the polka dots, and you’ve still not put the damn book away as he pulls them down the smooth slopes of your legs, and buries his face in your cunt from behind. And finally, finally, he hears the thump of the book against the wooden boards of the floor and then your moan as he licks into your pussy, pulling you apart by the softness of your ass. You groan for him, throaty and drawn out as you arch your back to give him better access. 

“Yeah… that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he says into your skin, licking a long, wet stripe from your clit all the way to the tight furl of your asshole. He’d taken you hard this morning, fucking your pussy almost brutally until he’d pulled out and pushed his way into your back hole to come in your ass. The two of you had been filthy lately. You’d been particularly insatiable, but you incited something in him that turned him into a fucking animal sometimes. You had the uncanny ability to crawl under his skin and make his blood boil and rage until the only thing that seemed to settle him was your come and your spit and your sweat in his mouth, covering every inch of his skin.

If he really thought about it, he knew he was obsessed with you. Obsession verging on something much more serious – verging on… No, not yet… He wouldn’t think of that yet. 

He pulls back to survey the blushing, flutter of your little hole. Fucking needy thing, he rumbles, but as he goes to push a single finger into your opening, he feels you wince and pull back slightly. Shit, he knew he’d been too rough this morning. He licks another wet swipe along the cleft of your ass. “You sore, baby?” All he gets is your muffled moan and a slight nod of your head, your face buried in the pillows as you hitch your hips higher, trying to tempt him, swaying your ass gently from side to side… like he’d said, needy. He anchors himself up on one arm, the other keeping you spread open while he lets a long string of spit trickle slowly from his pursed mouth, the thick glob covering your tight hole so that he can smear it into your skin. Joel, Joel – he hears you begging into the sheets. “Yeah… I got you, little bird. Don’t worry–” He bends his head again to bite at the crease where your asscheek meets the back of your thigh and then grips your hips to slowly roll you over.

Your eyes are hazy, glazed and wet when he takes in your flushed face. He crawls up the length of your body to lay beside you, slotting one arm under your head and the other wrapping around your thigh to bring it up over his hip. “N– no, Joel– I– I still want you to fuck me… I still wanna come,” you mewl, scratching at his shoulders and arms. Tiny little fingers digging into his skin to try and pull him into obedience. 

“Uh huh, I gotcha, baby… don’t worry. But I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re sore.” He slots his cock between your thighs, pressed up against your wet cleft and starts to slide through your sensitive folds. You shake and jitter in his arms, little hiccuping moans and whimpers every time the wide head bumps and catches against the swollen nub of your clit. 

Please, please, I can take it.

“My poor Birdie,” he coos, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” The hand on your thigh sneaks back and around your bottom to slot between your thighs, pressing up on his sliding cock to apply greater pressure to your cunt. “How’s this, huh? Feel good?”

“Ungh, ah, ah ah…” So good, so good, you whisper, hot breath fanning over the underside of his chin. He feels the wet swipe of your tongue, your little teeth sinking into the edge of his jaw. “I don’t– I don’t know what’s wrong with me–” His tip catches at your tender opening and you jerk slightly in his arms, he fists the hand not between your legs in your hair to anchor you in place and presses his mouth to yours, a long, wet swipe behind the edge of your teeth. He can hear how wet you are as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, your moans and whimpers getting louder, more desperate. The sound of you is obscene, his own personal wet fucking dream.

 His dream girl… come to life. 

“That’s right, baby. Just like that – gonna come on my cock just like this. Didn’t I say I’d take care of you? Don’t I always take care of you just how you need?” You start to tremble even harder, your leg wrapped around him tightening at his waist so that your heel is pressed sharply into the base of his spine and he feels you jerk as he grinds the thick base of himself into your clit and you start to come. Mewling and keening his name, his good, beautiful girl. He slides his hand up your bottom and back, long, slow passes of his palm along your sweat damp spine to settle you. “That better?” he whispers into your hair. You shiver, and he feels the nod of your head as you mouth as his throat and chest. 

“Yes… thank you.” He pulls back to wrap his hand around your jaw, your bones feel so fragile beneath his strength – something delicate he’s been afforded the privilege of being able to touch with these violence soaked hands of his. He can’t think about how frightened you make him, not now, not when he has you beneath him like this, soft and sated and pliant – the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever laid eyes on in his life. He smushes your cheeks together and plants a soft kiss to your puckered mouth. “Beautiful girl.” All you do is burrow further into the covers, a soft sigh as you nuzzle your cheek into his palm. And so fine, he can admit it, right here and now. He fucking loves you, and it’ll probably be the thing to kill him in the end, this recalcitrance he’s forcing himself into. 

-

You stir awake in the middle of the night. He’s draped over you in his sleep, his face tucked into the warm crook of your neck, big hand palming the weight of your breast. He’s so big and muscular and heavy and you love the feel of his weight pressing you into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, drag your fingers through his thick curls, and listen to the sound of his soft snores. 

Your entire body feels like one unending, tender bruise. Every sensation heightened, too sensitive, like a raw, exposed nerve. You don’t know what’s wrong with you lately, what’s gotten into you. You’re on the verge of overwhelmed tears, just from the feel of him, the sound of his soft breathing, overwhelmed by how much you love him, how much you want him. You’ve been on the verge of tears for days, the slightest thing setting you off. 

You lay there for a while holding him, sleep gone out the window in the night, abandoning you to wakefulness, but you realize that the reason you’d stirred awake is that you’re cramping low in your belly, a dull and chronic sort of pulse, deep in your womb. Shit, you need to get up and check if you’re bleeding. 

You shift out from under him slowly, slipping from beneath his heavy paw to slip into the restroom. He turns over in his sleep, arm thrown out over the space you’ve just vacated, as if he’s searching for you, even unconscious. As you move towards the restroom there’s another throbbing pulse low in your belly, like you’re carrying around a bruise in the shape of him inside of you. Everything feels extra tender – coiled tight. He’s been insatiable lately — more than his usual. He’d had you four times yesterday alone. Twice today, plus your fooling around before you’d gone to sleep. Your cunt is sore and puffy and soaking wet, even after he’d cleaned you up with a warm wash cloth before falling asleep. Sometimes it seems like you’re fucking a teenager instead of an old man with the stamina he’s got in him. You laugh quietly. 

But when you pull your underwear down to sit on the cold toilet basin, there’s nothing. Huh… you’d for sure thought the cramping meant you’d started your period. A slow simmering churning starts up in your gut, slowly, slowly starting a low boil. Maybe you’re starting soon, that’s why you’re cramping – it’s fine. You wipe and stand to wash your hands. Maybe dinner isn’t sitting right – but no… you’d barely eaten. So something you’d had before then. That’s probably why you’re so sensitive and on edge lately – you’re probably getting sick. You’d been nauseous the past few days, and there was that bout of vomiting the other day. You pull open one of his lavatory drawers, looking for the antacid tablets you know he hoards, when you’re met with the sight of your menstrual cup, sitting in the little plastic bin you keep it in. 

Shit.

Why is this over here? Since when has it been over here? Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No, no, no.

You can’t remember the last time you’d used it. You try and count back the weeks – fuck, the months. Real panic starts to flutter and fizz in your belly.  When was the last time you’d had a period? Surely more than four weeks ago but … but if it’s been that long, if you’re remembering correctly… then… then, it’s been closer to two months by now. So that would mean… that means… you turn towards the door where Joel sleeps, unaware, on the other side as if you can see him through the thick wood. 

You feel your heart drop into your stomach, the rhythm of its beat ricocheting up to a concerning speed. Oh, God. Oh, God. How could you have been so careless – so distracted? How is this the first time you’re even thinking about this – even realizing it? But no… if you’re being honest, objective – you know you’ve only been waiting for something like this to happen – for months now. How could you not? When the two of you had never even pretended at being careful or responsible for preventing something like this. Oh, God – how are you going to tell him? What is he going to say? He’s going to be so angry. 

But a voice at the back of your mind whispers that you’re only telling yourself that – that you know it isn’t true – that you know he’d be not only happy, but overjoyed at the thought of a baby. But how could you really know for sure? When he’s always been firm in keeping that last sliver of distance between the two of you? Still after all these months – unable to admit the truth of what lived here, between the two of you. That this isn’t just sex – that the two of you are in love with each other. 

You lean against the sink for support, your shaky legs on the verge of collapse, and stare at yourself in the mirror. This puts your behavior of the last few days into better perspective. All the tears, the shaky stomach, feeling so sensitive – like a raw nerve all he needed to do was look at, breathe on, to provoke. If you really think about it, you’d been the instigator at the start of each of your encounters in the last few days. Seeking him out ravenously – hungry and desperate for his cock and his skin and his smell at every hour of the day. Weepy, swollen cunt – even when he wasn’t around to tempt you, and he’d left you satisfied, and yet, still wanting more, every single time. 

You step back out into the dark space of his bedroom. He’s on his back, one bulging arm thrown over his head. His mess of curls strewn across the surface of his pillow. You watch the rise and fall of his belly, his thick, strong waist, with the cadence of his breaths. Your womb twists with lust. 

Fuck, you’re probably pregnant with this man’s baby. How are you going to tell him?

You can make out the thick heft of his cock through the thin material of the sheets covering his waist, he’d not bothered to put anything else on again after he’d made you come, and it makes your mouth water and the place between your legs so achy. Your recent behavior is completely transparent now, you’d been so needy, insatiable, the only thing to settle you the heavy weight of his cock stretching you open and pounding deep into you. Fucking typical. He’d done this to you, and now he got to reap the rewards of you climbing onto his dick at all hours of the day. 

You roll your eyes at him in the dark as you slide back into bed beside him, running your palm over the flat of his belly. He clasps your hand with his in his sleep as he rolls over, pulling you along with him, wrapping your arm around himself and tucking it up by his neck so that you’re spooning him. He drapes his arm back over your hip and clutches your leg, tucking his fingers right at the place where your ass cheek meets your inner thigh and pulling your front further into his back – trying to get you as close as possible to him. You listen to his deep, sleepy rumble, and you bury your face between his warm back and the bed, the sheets smell like the both of you, sweet and musky – like your sex, your love making. You’ve made a baby together. Joel’s baby. The thought makes tears pool in your eyes and start a slow, silent stream down your face. Your insides clenching wantonly at the same time that your stomach flutters and heaves with nerves and panic. There are too many sensations spilling through your body all at the same time, and you think your frame starts to tremble, an uncontainable gasp slipping out because suddenly you feel his muscles snap awake, his rough voice saying your name sharp and worried. You wrap your arm tighter around him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck to stop him from turning over. You don’t want him to see you like this, you don’t want him to know, you don’t want him to be angry or worried or regretful.

 He’d never be any of those things, your heart whispers at your anxious mind. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why’re you crying?” he says into the dark room. You feel his muscles tense as he tries to escape your tight hold without being too rough.

“I don’t know–” you splutter into his back, your voice coming out muffled against his warm skin. “I’m– I’m emotional. I think I’m getting my period soon,” you lie. Lie, lie, fucking liar. You don’t think you’ll be getting that for a good, long while. 

He sighs, gripping your wrist firmly to pull your arm away for him so he can turn over to cradle you gently in his arms. The best place in the entire world. You cry harder. 

“C’mere, sweet girl,” he whispers against your hairline, pressing his soft mouth to your forehead, your temple. “It’s alright… no tears.” He pets at the nape of your neck. His voice is so deep, you feel the vibrations of it pass through his chest and rumble into your own, and it makes the tips of your breasts tighten into aching little knots. You wrap your arms around his neck to meld your chest tighter to his. You wish you could live inside of him the way he now lives inside of you. He’s left a piece of himself with you, eventually it’ll grow and the whole world will know how definitively you belong to him. You’ll be round and swollen and only his, only his. The thought makes your pussy clench. 

“Joel–” you tug as his curls, his beard, trying to pull his mouth down to yours. He rumbles deep in his chest, gives you his tongue. He’s being too slow, too gentle, you need him to fuck you hard, desperate – as desperate as you feel for him in this moment, to ground you and tame this panic surging up inside of you with his strong hands. 

“Kiss me – hug me,” you beg. 

“M’right here, Birdie.” He cards his hand through your hair, pulls your head back slightly, “Look at me – I’m right here with you.”

“More, more, please.” You lick at his mouth, drag your teeth down his chin.

He rolls you over to settle his hips between your spread legs. You can feel the searing hot brand of his hard cock against the inside of your thigh. He’s always hard for you. He’s always hard for you, and you’re always soft and wet and ready for him, and the two of you are perfect for each other. You were made for each other, and now you’ve made a baby together. “You need my cock again, little bird?”

You spread your legs wider, “Yes, yes – I always need you,” you whine. He wraps his hand around your throat and pauses to stare down at you for a second, his brow pulled down low. He bends his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he presses his mouth to your own. You keep your eyes wide open also, looking between his dark eyes. His lashes are so long, the thick fringe of them fanning out so wide they cast a shadow across his cheekbones. The two of you are so close you can make out each individual lash, the little lines around his eyes – stress, before … but you hope, now, only from laughing too much, from being too happy. You always want him to be so, so happy he doesn’t know what to do with it all. You want him to be overwhelmed and submerged in so much ridiculous happiness. The two of you hold there for a moment, breathing into each other’s mouths. You love him so much it is a physical ache within you. 

He sits back slightly then, and lifts your thigh to press a soft kiss to the inside of your leg, then another to your belly, right over your womb, your heart swoops at that and you whimper, then another right to the top of your mound. The tip of his tongue peeking out to lap at your clit, just a little. 

Then he stretches over you again, giving you all his weight and reaches his hand down to pet the back of his knuckles along your slit, “Shit, fuckin’ wet and swollen, Birdie.”

“I want you so much,” you breath, eyes fluttering closed as he parts your puffy lips and pets at your clit. He starts up a gentle rhythm around your sensitive bundle of nerves that has you kicking your legs out impatiently around him for more. Why is he being so gentle and mean and soft? You need it hard, you need more. 

“Please, Joel, please, please, fuck me, please.” You can feel hot tears burning down the slopes of your cheeks. He’s going to think you’ve lost the fucking plot, crying and begging for his cock like this. He continues to be mean and horrible and pet softly at your clit, like a whisper over your raging, burning skin. 

“Settle down. Gonna give it to you how I see fit.”

“You’re so mean,” you kick out one leg, pathetically, at his side. The broad expanse of him has you spread so wide there’s no purchase to be found, all you can do is lie here and take it. He’s so horrible — look at him, he’s gone and knocked you up and now he won’t even fuck you how you need him to. You pout up at him, cry and mewl pathetically. “Please, harder, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh, said you were sore. Gotta be gentle with my soft, little cunt.”

“But you’re going to fuck me right?” you cry.

“Yeah, baby. Don’t worry,” he says softly, starts to circle his thumb at your tender entrance, pressing gentle pressure on it. You do your best to stifle your wince, shit, it’s not necessarily sore, just so, so sensitive. This is all his fault. You want to sink your teeth into his neck and bite him as hard as you can. Make him hurt and writhe the way he’s making you. He starts to slowly press a single finger inside. You’re so wet, dripping, the passage is smooth and slick. 

“Harder,” you beg.

“Quit.” You let out a frustrated moan. He starts to fuck you slowly just like that, a single finger, his thumb circling your clit in slow, measured circles. His finger is thick, but not enough, and you clench your inner muscles, trying to bear down on it. “Stop that,” he snaps. “Take it how I give it to you. Need you to relax, Birdie. What’s got you all twisted up in knots?”

“I don’t know,” liar, liar, liar, you whine, trying as hard as you can not to roll your hips, to stay still and settled like he wants you to, but there’s a goddamn forest fire raging inside of you, and having him so close, such a small part of him inside you, is only making it worse. He pulls his single finger out, circles his thumb around your entrance, back up to your clit, swipes up and down like a feather, then pressure to your entrance again, and he’s pushing two of his thick fingers inside of you now. Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. He starts to slide them in and out, a small crook of his fingers to pet at the soft, spongy spot inside of you. All the while he continues to circle your clit, and he bends his head to kiss at your mouth, your jaw, a soft bite to your clavicle that has you keening wantonly, then a swipe of his tongue to your jugular – you wish he’d bite you there, sink his teeth into your skin and drink. God, your thoughts are unhinged. You cannot, cannot deal with nine months of this, what the fuck. His mouth slides down to your breast, hot and wet, and he sucks hard on the aching tip, flicking his tongue back and forth slowly. His fingers haven’t paused their slow onslaught and at one particularly hard pull at your breast you suddenly feel everything in your pelvis go blindingly, white hot and tight and then loose and wet and you start to come on his fingers. Your hips rolling gently upwards to take more of him. He never goes harder, never faster, he just continues his gentle ministrations of you – playing you like his own personal little doll. You moan long and ragged, yeah, that’s it, just like that, he whispers into your hair. His words sliding through the strands like water. He guides you through the cresting waves of your orgasm, his touch becoming slower and softer as you throb on and on. Once the contractions of your muscles have slowed he pulls his fingers from your cunt, the wet suck, as loud and obscene as the thoughts in your head are, and then the burning hot head of his cock is there, slowly pushing into your still quivering flesh, so thick. 

“Gonna take my cock now, little bird.”

Yes, yes, please. Thank you. All you can do is sigh, hitch your knees higher up his sides, you hook one hand under the bend of one leg, opening yourself up for him as much as you physically can with all of his weight pressing down into you. 

He slides to the very end of you, letting you feel every throbbing inch and ridge as he goes as slow as everything else he’s done to you tonight. 

“Hard, Joel. Harder, please,” you beg again. His only response is a rumble of disapproval as he starts to thrust into you slow, but so fucking deep. You feel split wide open, he’s split you open and peered inside of you and decided to leave a piece of himself within, and he doesn’t even know it. And you decide in that instant that you’re not going to tell him – with the feel of him as deep inside of you as he can physically get, the knowledge that he’s even deeper than even he knows, you decide you’re not going to tell him until you’re absolutely forced to. It’s wrong, perhaps, or definitely, after all, he has a right to know also, it’s his baby too. But you just can’t. You can’t face the reality of this, his potential reaction, whether it be good or bad, right now, not for a while. You need time, time to gather your courage, your thoughts, your very skin around yourself, stitch yourself together and muster your strength and prepare for whatever outcome telling him might incite. 

“Not gonna give it to you harder, Birdie. Quit beggin’.”

“I don’t care– I don’t care, Joel, please.” You claw and scratch at him, but nothing you do prompts him to go harder. There’s a desperation, a wave of anxious fear surging up inside of you – the fear of him leaving you one day, of not wanting you anymore – when you know you’ll love him for the rest of your life. You are terrified of ending up alone, out in that dark forest again. 

“Quit.” He gathers both of your wrists in one of his strong hands, brings them above your head to lie limply above the pillows. Divested of all your strength and fight, you’re left only to lie beneath him and take all he chooses to give you. “Told you,” he grits as he rolls his hips in long, deep thrusts into yours, the bone of his pelvis grinding into your clit. “You’re gonna take it how I decide to give it to you. Only me – you’re mine, you’re mine, I decide.”

And fuck – if that doesn’t do something to you, if hearing those words don’t settle that coiling snake within you. You go soft and pliant and submissive at his words, spreading your legs as wide as you can and tilting your pelvis up so that he can drill into you as deep as possible, right to the place where your little secret is growing now. 

And he’s so gentle with you, so careful – even when he’s fucking you hard and savage the way you both like sometimes, he’s still careful to never hurt you more than you need him to. It makes you wonder at the violence it took him to become this gentle – to become so well acquainted with his own strength, his ability to maim, that he can now be so in control of it, handle you with such care. 

The weight of his thrusts changes suddenly. He slides a palm under your bottom to lift you up into his impaling cock, presses his knees further up under you to anchor you more firmly in his lap and pounds into you, the wide tip of his cock concentrated against the head of your cervix in blinding thrusts, and you’re so sensitive on the inside from what he’s done to you, from the change he’s wrought upon your body, that you start to come again. Toe curling waves of pleasure start at your womb and spiral out of your limbs in searing bolts of heat, your back arched tight as a bow string. Your inner muscles throb and clench around his still battering cock and you hear the guttural moan of your name spit from his mouth, and then the kick of his cock inside of you as he starts to come too. “Fucking Christ, take it all, Birdie – every last drop of my come. Need this pussy stuffed full of me – s’only way you behave, little girl.” 

All you can do is nod dumbly and take it, just like he said. 

He kisses and licks every inch of your body afterwards, eating up your slick and sweat and his own come with broad swipes of his tongue. You’d never imagined this sort of intimacy – it’s something that you hadn’t even thought possible. A sort of physical connectedness that belied the truth of your current situation – the things still hidden between the two of you. 

He lies beside you once he’s done eating his come out of your pussy, one last orgasm pulled gently from you with his mouth. His slick cock, soft now, pressed against your still flat belly as the two of you lay facing each other, hands tucked beneath your cheeks, legs tangled together, just taking each other in. 

You think you’re probably about two months along, give or take. It’ll still be a while before you start showing. You have time yet. 

You’re going to let yourself think about this now, only tonight, and then you’re going to push it from your mind until you can’t ignore the situation any longer. The reality of it is too terrifying to consider at length with everything else going on in your lives at the moment. 

What will he say? What will you do if you tell him your truth and he goes away from you? How will you survive something like that? But even as you ask yourself this, you know it’s unnecessary, for despite his capacity for violence, or his own fear or recalcitrance or hesitancy, despite the lies he tells himself and you about what this is, he is also good and honorable and loyal. Joel Miller is a good man. And he’d never abandon you or a child of his, but still, you’re afraid. 

So, no, you can’t focus on this now – you’ll push it from your mind until it becomes more pressing, unavoidable. There are other more important things to deal with now, other things to consider before you can think of yourself. 

You run a single finger over the thick line of his brow, against the fluttering of his lashes, down the strong slope of his nose. A baby. Joel’s baby. You hope they have his dark curls. 

You love him and you’re going to have his baby.

And you don’t have it in you to tell him either of these truths. 

“Go to sleep, little bird.” 

-

You sneak out the next morning. In the cold light of the new dawn, the truth you’re withholding is all the more terrifying. Fucking life changing. You slip out of his warm bed, the protective embrace of his strong arms, and shuffle around his room as quiet as you can for your clothes. Your shit is everywhere, strewn around his room and restroom. You need to go home, you need distance – space to think. You dig in a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner for your bra and tiptoe as quietly as you can to his bedside table to slip your books you need for today from between his own stack of novels. Once you’ve retrieved the texts you pause to look down at him, still sleeping. The fact that he can now rest so deeply like this, that he isn’t jerking awake at a hair triggers notice with the slightest sound or movement around him speaks so deeply to that part of you that wants nothing more than for him to be as happy as he can possibly be, safe and serene and never worried for anything ever again. 

Your greatest fear is that this news you now carry will disturb that peace, that serenity or happiness you so desperately want for him. So you sneak out of his home without waking him, head towards your own lonely house to change and wash up, you smell like his come, get the rest of your things for the day and then head to the clinic. You’ll shut this truth in a drawer for as long as you can, and once you can no longer hide it, once it becomes unavoidable, you’ll do your best to make sure he knows you never, never want him to feel obligated to you. Yes… you think, you’ll give him an out, it can be his decision. And even though the thought of that sends a searing, twisting pain to the space in your heart where you carry him, you think it’s the right thing anyways. He deserves to have a choice – when so much of his life has been forced upon him you always want to be the one place he can find choice in. 

He comes into the clinic a few hours later. You’ve just gotten done delivering a baby – real great day for that – when he walks through the front door. You’re finishing up your procedure note and you turn to see him stepping through your office door, a baggie from the mess hall clutched in his hand. 

“Hey… what’re you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d check in… brought you a scone.” He lifts up the offering of baked goods, gives you a crooked smile. God, your gut and your heart twist and flip at the same time. You turn back to face your mess of papers and notebooks, trying to take deep breaths to keep your tears at bay. This crying shit is really going to start being a problem soon. 

You feel him come up behind you, he sets down the baggie in front of you and braces one hand on the edge of your desk, the other passing over the crown of your head and down your ponytail to tug your head back gently. You look up at him from your angled position, and he frowns down at you. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Don’t like it when you sneak off in the mornings without telling me,” he grumbles down at you. 

“Sorry–” you breathe. He huffs at you, leans down to press his mouth to yours. 

“Still feeling funny?” 

You shake your head, still in his hold, but say “Yes,” at the same time. You’re all over the place. He sighs, letting go of your hair and coming down to a crouch beside you. You turn to face him in your seat, knees tucked between his spread thighs. 

He drags a gentle thumb over the soft skin beneath your eye, then up the slope of your cheekbone – that perpetual frown still present. He knows something’s wrong. He knows you. Keeping this from him is going to be so, so difficult. He’s going to tell something is wrong, different, off. Your only recourse is to pretend like you don’t know either. To entirely push this thing that you have no discernible idea how to deal with from your mind. As of this moment, it’s a non-reality. 

“What can I do?” he asks, so gentle, so concerned. 

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head. You can’t look at that look in his eyes right now, it’ll make you fall to pieces. You fold forward to press your face into his shoulder, turning your head to sniffle into his neck. “Nothing,” you mumble. “Just kiss me.” He slides his hand into your hair against your scalp and angles your head to press his mouth to yours, giving you exactly what you need. 

You may be unsure about so much, but the one thing you do know, without a doubt, is that this man will make a wonderful father. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#FoG fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[toulousegrandex]

A Journey of Solitude

Azriel x oc

part 1 part 2

Part 3: an aching pain

She was an aching pain in his heart, tugging him back toward her every time he turned away. He'd watched her every single day, for five weeks from the edge of the garden to the corner of her room. His shadows crept in every nook to make sure she was safe and learnt everything they could about her. She was perfect. So precious and observant, and he just couldn't sit in the shadows any longer. Trust him, when he first saw her he had originally planned to give her a few years alone. He truly wanted her to heal herself after the unimaginable trauma she had been through at the camps, but it pained him too much to not see her again. So much so, that he had to go back the next day to gaze at her.

When he saw her outside it was as if his legs moved on their own, he couldn’t restrain himself and when the chance finally came to speak, he panicked. Do you like flowers.

Mother, he had never felt more of an idiot than now. Of course the cauldron would bless him with the most beautiful, delicate thing he had ever seen and make it so he could never, ever have her. Once he flew back to the town house, his brothers saw the utter embarrassment mixed with pure despair on his face and pried the information out of him. Although Rhys already had his suspicion seeing his demeanour falter back at the village.

Cassians jaw dropped to the ground in disbelief before turning into the biggest grin he had ever worn. "There's no way." His hands gripped around Azriel's face, kissing his forehead before he had a chance to run away. "Az, I am so so happy for you, I have never felt pride like this. My boy."

Azriel begrudgingly wiggled his way out of Cassians grip before snapping back at him, "did you not hear a word of what I just said?"

"My brother, has found the love of his life, yes-"

"No. She hates me." Azriel muttered, "I finally find my mate and she hates me."

"Give it time, brother. She was terrified of me too, all you can do is slowly get to know her. Show her not all Illyrian males are like the ones from which she just escaped." Rhysand, the voice of reason spoke up calmly.

Azriel's mind wondered back to her. How she’d be back on her bed now, gazing out the window with her hair braided from her face. How she'd wrap the blanket around herself, one leg sticking out of the covers. How pretty she was. How obsessed with her he was already. How he'd kill for her and he hadn't even heard her speak.

"That sound good, Az?" Cassians voice snapped him back out of his daze. Azriel furrowed his brows in confusion. "I said, how about I go over to the village and put in a good word. Tell her about your fighting skills and how you knocked out that guy with one punch the other week-"

“We're trying to ease the fear of males, Cass. We need a more subtle approach. What would happen if you just called Connie up, she could help?" Rhysand frowned in contemplation.

"Or, how about we-"

"There's no, we. I beg you both to control yourselves for once and not meddle with my life. Please." Azriel muttered the last part under his breath. His brothers groaned and protested to him but he couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. He couldn't care about anything other than the girl whose face was engraved into his mind and drawn across his heart.

•

The encounter had sent Juniper straight back to the confines of the little room once more. Connie had told her she wouldn't have to fear any males ever again and yet, since she arrived here she had seen two of the biggest, scariest ones she'd ever seen in her entire life.

She knew the Illryian man was probably sent by her father to come retrieve her, bring her back to where she belonged. She shouldn't have fought it, she was still her father's to do as he pleased and running from him once more will only worsen her future suffering. So she waited, starring at the door of the room for the man, along with her father to barge in and scold her for making such a hassle. She forced herself to stay awake no matter how tired she felt, no matter how heavy her eyes became so she could be prepared. Yet he never came back.

Connie gently opened her door that next morning, seeing Junipers body sat up, barricaded against the wall, fear still radiating from her sleeping form. Her heart ached for the young woman. She decided then, there was only one way Juniper could move forward in her healing process, to know that she was safe. It was time to call back the High Lord.

•

a/n: thank you for supporting! I promise more action soon these first chapters are just easing into it <3

+ this is what I imagine the village looking like

#azriel #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel x oc #rhysand #cassian

[cagesofgold]

our future

conniespringer x reader

Connie’s hands traced the exposed skin of your stomach, just under the hem of your tank where it rides up. His palms smoothed along the expanse of your waist, slowing down as he approached the centre, slowing all the way to a halt as his large hand rested on top of your belly button.

“Do you ever think….” He whispered, voice laced with sleepiness and an evident grumble which never failed to make your legs weak.

You turned your head upwards, shifting your neck against his bare chest, his gold chain glinting in the small amount of moonlight emitting from the window.

“Think about what?” you smiled softly, moving your arm to wrap it around his waist, relishing in his warmth.

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he rested his upper half against the bed frame, spine aligned with the wood.

“It’s nothing.”

You slapped his chest gently, lifting your head from his body completely as you sat up, peering down at your particularly tanned boyfriend.

“Well, now you have to tell me!”

His eyes cracked open an inch, a smile tugging at his lips as his chest rose slowly, a calming sensation filling the caverns of his heart.

He reached for your face, the pads of his fingertips ghosting across your skin, just under the sockets.

When he looked at you all he felt was joy. Immense joy for his past, his present, his future.

“It’s nothing, i just…” He sighed, dropping his hand from his face to wrap it around your waist, rubbing your lower back soothingly.

“ah…” he sighed, the softness of his face contorting into one of supposed nerves. “I just want you to be my future, you know?”

Your lips cracked open an inch, your eyes staring at him through the very little light available, only able to focus on the slope of his nose, his gentle smile, the warm hazel of his eyes.

“What?” You giggled breathily, sliding a hand up Connie’s chest, pausing at his collarbone.

He clicked his tongue, reaching both hands around your waist as he lifted you up suddenly, making a quiet squeal escape from your lips as you settled on his lap.

“Connie!” You laughed, slapping his chest once again, he only beamed, the white of his teeth illuminated by the soft moonlight.

“You know what i mean, mami.” He groaned, tilting his head backwards as his Addams apple bobbed, the tendons in his neck tightening before he released a shaky exhale of air.

“I mean i want this, to wake up to you everyday, go to sleep with you everyday. Not have to drive over or have you come to mine, you know?” His eyes averted from your face, focusing on the slit of light cascading through the drawn curtains. “A place, a place that’s really our own.”

You smiled as he continued.

“And then, once we’ve been living together for a while, i’d propose. Just in the way you’d like, with the perfect ring, perfect setting.” He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.

His palms then pressed against your stomach, ever so gentle, yet their presence made a fire ignite by his very touch, sending electricity through your veins in a voltage you could barely manage.

It’s how Connie always made you feel. Safe, happy, on fire. It was confusing and strong but made you feel like nothing else had your entire life. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“And here…” He muttered, “Down the line, i don’t mean right now or any time soon, but one day, i want you to be the mother of my kids, you know? Little you’s everywhere, i mean what’s better than that?”

You laughed joyfully, diving forward into his arms as his tightened around your back, his palms moving upwards to stroke your hair, combing your locks through his fingers.

That future sounded perfect. Happy, safe. Everything you would ever want.

But even if that didn’t happen, you knew, deep in your heart, that being with Connie,

Would be enough.

#aot connie #connie springer #connie x reader #aot x you #aot x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #anime fanfic #attack on titan #x reader #anime x reader

[countrymusiclover]

9 - Family Contract Agreement

Part 10

The Texas Tire Family

Tags just ask - @supernaturalgirl30 @bvbwestfall @bubble-blu @patriciaplictisita @liesanddreams

Sheldon and Amy were going on their honeymoon tonight right before I got a call in our hotel. We weren’t planning to head back to Texas until next week since the girls seemed to enjoy the sites of the city. “Hello who is?”

“Y/n this is Sheldon Cooper. I am calling to ask for your assistance. I know that I have already asked you for one to get my brother to come here. But it would help me out.” Sheldon’s voice came through the phone.

Sitting down by the window looking out at the city inside our hotel room. Georgie was out getting some food for just me and him since Missy and Connie we’re watching the girls tonight for us. “Sheldon, if you’re asking for a favor you don’t have to worry about me saying no. We’re family. Whatever you need, just ask.”

“I am requesting that you and Georgie watch my apartment for me while Amy and I are away on our honeymoon. With a strict set of rules of how to look after it. I already have a contract in place.” He explained making me shake my head, chuckling even though he couldn’t see it.

The door to the hotel room opened with me seeing Georgie sit down with a bag of food from the Cheesecake Factory. We decided to just order a steak and fries to split together since we didn’t have to worry about feeding the girls. “Sure Sheldon. I’ll tell Georgie and we will be over in a few.”

“What were you talkin’ about with my little brother?” Hanging up the phone Georgie put the food on two separate plastic plates coming over to sit across from me by the window. He stabs the fork cutting part of his steak asking me.

Stabbing a piece of my steak I stuck some in my mouth tucking hair behind my ear. “He asked if we could house sit while they were away. Would you mind moving the girls there for the rest of the week?”

“I don’t mind at all. It’s my baby brother who might have a problem with them running around his place. But he’ll have to accept that.” He shrugged his shoulders with some food in his mouth reminding me of when he was kid and would do that at the dinner table. His mother and Sheldon would hate when he would do it.

Finishing off my steak I smiled seeing that he had finished his food too. We packed our bags and what the girls had left driving to the apartment building where the boys lived. Georgie and I made our way up the stairs with our suitcases before he knocked on his door. “Oh great you guys showed up. Come on in.” Amy answered the door with a grin moving out of the way.

“Yeah we did. Aurora and Evelyn are being babysat tonight. But they will be staying here with us later if that is alright.” I explained dropping my bag at my feet, closing the door behind me.

Amy took a drink from a glass sitting it down on the table nodding in our direction. “It’s fine. Sheldon, they are here.”

Footsteps walked out of the room carrying a notepad in his left arm and a pencil in his other hand. He sat down on the couch looking between Georgie and I. “I have drawn up a contract explaining the specific instructions that you need to follow while taking care of our apartment.”

“Alright you’re wish is our command I suppose.” Georgie sat down on one of the corner chairs. I sat down on the other end of the couch seeing Amy standing at the island table.

Sheldon nodded, flipping over a page. “According to the house sitting agreement. One, the temperature of the room can be adjusted but it must be set back before we come home. Two, little Eve and Rora are not allowed to mess with any of my stuff. Three, there is not supposed to be any quotis at all on my bed or on the couch.”

“Sheldon, I don’t think you have to worry about me and Georgie having sex while you’re gone. Considering I am carrying our new baby now.” Resting my hands on my stomach I eyed my husband.

Georgie hit the sides of the chair flashing me a smirk leaning forward towards me. “Awe don’t say that darlin’ I mean we did it a few times during Eve’s pregnancy.”

Sheldon sent him a glare flipping through some more pages. He hands me a pen and the notepad pointing to the lines that we needed to sign. “Just sign lines two and three on page five. Then on seven through ten. And finally sign your names here, both of you.” Georgie took the pen signing his name after mine.

“Okay Sheldon we have to go. Penny said she would drive us to the airport.” Amy sat her bag down by the door hugging me goodbye once I had gotten to my feet hugging her bye. We waved bye to the pair watching them leave where Georgie plopped down beside me on the couch.

He draped his arm over my shoulder where I laid my head on his chest sighing in relief. Lifting my head up after a few minutes of silence. His eyes met mine deeply. “Do you remember the night you sang me one of Luke Bryan’s songs. I know you think you aren’t as smart as Sheldon but you are. And you’ve got a good singing voice.”

“You want me to sing to you again, Y/n. Cause I don’t have a guitar now.” He asked me to move the hair behind my ear gently. He didn’t care much about singing but he knew it made me happy.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I leaned forward kissing him softly. He wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me onto his lap. “Ya don’t need a guitar, Georgie. I’m a simple girl and you meet my needs. Plus I can sing with ya since I’m picking the song.” Digging through my suitcase I found my phone searching through the songs on my playlist picking one and showing him the lyrics.

“Don't have to leave this town to see the world. 'Cause it's something that I gotta do. I don't wanna look back in 30 years. And wonder who you're married to.” Georgie started off singing the Blake Shelton song Nobody But You.

Squeezing his hand intertwined with mine I started jumping in. “Wanna say it now, wanna make it clear. For only you and God to hear. When you love someone, they say you set 'em free. But that ain't gonna work for me.”

“I don't wanna live without you. I don't wanna even breathe. I don't wanna dream about you. Wanna wake up with you next to me. I don't wanna go down any other road now. I don't wanna love nobody but you. Looking in your eyes now, if I had to die now. I don't wanna love nobody but you (You).” We both started singing together.

Georgie rose to his feet tugging me to stand with him intertwining our hands together. He twirled me underneath his arm making me giggle before I attempted to do the same even though he was taller than me. “All the wasted days, all the wasted nights. I blame it all on being young. Got no regrets, 'cause they got me here. But I don't wanna waste another one. I been thinkin' about what I want in my life. It begins and ends the same. If I had to choose what I couldn't lose. There'd only be one thing..”

Tugging him onto the couch twirling my wedding ring on my hand with him kissing me once more. He mumbled resting his forehead against mine, grinning back. “I don't wanna live without you. I don't wanna even breathe. I don't wanna dream about you. Wanna wake up with you next to me. I don't wanna go down any other road now. I don't wanna love nobody but you. Looking in your eyes now, if I had to die now. I don't wanna love nobody but you (You). I don't wanna love nobody but you (You).”

Georgie gently pushes me back onto the couch where my hands ended up in his hair drawing him into the kiss. “I don’t think Sheldon would know if we ended up making out on this couch. It’s not like he knows.” Pulling him back down I wrapped my arms around his neck passionately kissing him until my phone vibrated.

“Hello Sheldon.” I pressed the phone to my ear reading the caller ID.

He responded back simply. “Amy said that you can sleep on our bed instead of the floor. But the no quatis law is still a rule.”

Hanging up the phone I shake my head dragging Georgie into the bedroom where we both kicked our boots off. “You’re brother shouldn’t be mad at us sleeping in here. After all, the next baby might be able to outsmart him. I love you Mr. Texan.”

“I love you, Y/n. I’ll always love ya.” He whispered back moving his hands under my shirt kissing my growing belly.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#the texas tire family #georgie cooper x reader #georgie cooper #montana jordan #young sheldon meemaw #sheldon cooper #amy farrah fowler #leonard hofstadter #howard wolowitz #bernadette rostenkowski #raj koothrappali #missy cooper #texas romance #teenage parents #teenage romance #kaley cuoco #the big bang theory #young sheldon #sequel #jim parsons #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated #mary cooper #george cooper #connie tucker

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 26, 1973

His things are neatly stacked by the hotel room door, waiting for the sun to come up, and he sprawls on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his gaze circling round and round, following the shape of orange light cast by the bedside lamp.

Nerves almost calm now, but the sedate white face flashes in his memory every time he closes his eyes. As the hours pass, these jolts of fear lose potency. Each a little weaker than the last, until it barely rouses him. Maybe he’s too tired, or too hungry. He’s not sure.

His stomach hurts. 

It’s not really hunger anymore, maybe. Just pain, cramping around the memory of starvation. He glances towards the windows; curtains drawn but no light spilling through the cracks yet. Too early. He wonders when the cafes will start opening. 

Fingers drum in little patterns against his hips. They take on a rhythm. Everything aches and his thoughts are scattered by music drifting in and out of his thoughts. His foot taps against the floor to the song in his head and he considers listening to the tapes again. 

This song was everywhere when he was in high school. It bounces back and forth inside his skull and he remembers listening to it in Alice’s car. She used to belt out I wake up feeling sorry I met you! speeding down Route 15 after her boyfriend dumped her. Daniel bounces through the song, wondering how long ago that was. 

What time is it over there, anyway? He can’t remember how the time zone works. Maybe he should follow up with that publisher. 

“How can I fight a love that shouldn’t be?” he mumbles, barely singing, voice scratching into the empty room. “When it’s so deep, so deep, deep inside of me…”

It feels like Alice is dead already. And her fiance. Her mom and dad. Daniel’s mom and dad.

And Connie and Jeff and everyone else he’s ever met. Even himself. The shelf of tapes in his old apartment is like a graveyard now. And the fear rises again; not the way Armand had shattered him, but something murky. Swelling inside, throbbing in his poorly-healing neck wounds. He presses his fingertips against them, feeling for each hole. There would never have to be a trace of them if he’d stop picking, he knows that. It doesn’t make a difference anymore, though. He feels marked.

His eyes burn with sleep deprivation. For a moment he wonders if it would be safe enough to sleep for a few hours—maybe he can take off this afternoon. The sun would still be up, it might be okay. He thinks maybe he should fly somewhere far from here and sleep on the plane, though. Vancouver. Buenos Aires. Sydney. 

Everything had happened too fast, back when he saw Armand. Whole body screaming in fear, unable to feel his face for a good three hours. But later, once all the sediment sank to the bottom of his head, he thinks he felt Armand’s presence in the wound. He rubs against it again, feeling the dull throb, wondering if it means Armand is nearby. 

It reminds him of his dad. The way his war wounds used to ache when it was going to rain.

Armand doesn’t seem like the same person Louis described. Daniel’s hands twitch, and he turns to look at his bag. Thinks about listening to the tapes again, even though he probably has them memorized by now. As if one more time will really make everything make sense. He’ll hear something he missed before, some piece. 

There were holes in Louis’s story, though, Daniel thinks. Or maybe some sense of dishonesty. Some emotional part that wasn’t in focus—perhaps even vampires lack that same self-awareness that people do. Because, sure, Armand was beautiful—Daniel saw it himself—and perhaps to Louis he was the patient mentor, perhaps he was wise and kind. But he’d let his friends kill Claudia. And he’d let Louis kill his friends. And he’d locked Daniel in a basement—

You are like a dog, he remembers Armand saying, cutting through the fog. He presses two fingertips to the two scabs, unsure if he’s imagining it. The night Armand took him… what?

When had pain started turning him on?

He lost his virginity to one of his classmates in junior year, on an ugly orange couch in her basement lounge. They were sneaking shots out of her parents’ liquor cabinet and she kept playing the same side of Sgt. Pepper over and over, kept starting it again instead of flipping the record, but Daniel was buzzed and horny so he didn’t complain. Anyway. She’d scratched up his back pretty bad, and it was nice. Overwhelming, and it would take a few more partners before he would start narrowing down what he liked in bed.

No one’s ever really been too rough with him, though. And he hasn’t really asked. And he knows now that vampires disarm you, they trick you, so coming in your fucking pants when they attack you might not be Daniel’s fault.

Maybe he’s been ruined, because he’s hard again, just thinking about it.

The strength. The steady hands on him.

Strength had turned him on when he first slept with a man. And that, too, took a few partners before he started understanding his type. He closes his eyes, relaxes into the bed, still anxious but exhausted enough to allow himself a break. 

Armand was short, definitely looked like a teenager. Not Daniel’s type at a glance, except for that sense of his power. Of danger, Daniel starts to tell himself, but rubs over his pants with his free hand. He still touches the scabs on his neck, wincing as he digs a nail into the edge. 

Daniel had fucked one of his professors, back in his first year. His film lit professor, who invited him for a drink when he’d stayed after class to talk about Persona. It hadn’t been like the couple of nervous makeout sessions he’d had with boys in high school, with anxiety shredding through his whole body the entire time. Not like the fumbling handjobs in a friend’s car. No, this maybe felt like a man. 

Stronger, and Daniel hadn’t been able to stop staring at the veins in the backs of his hands as he sipped his wine, or the soft blonde hair on his forearms that peeked out from beneath the red sweater. And sex had been fun, up until then, as a kid, not really knowing what the fuck he was doing, but it had never felt like this, with someone so confident in control. 

Armand was clean shaven, and would be forever, not like Daniel’s professor. Armand’s jaw won’t leave the insides of Daniel’s thighs pink afterwards. 

It’s hypothetical, anyway, Daniel thinks. Louis made it sound like vampires don’t like sex, and for some reason that sorta makes sense. But he lifts his hips, enough to slide his pants down, enough to curl his fingers around the tender head of his cock. And he remembers how his professor had lifted him by the thighs, pinned him against the door frame to suck the skin below his ear. The weightlessness he’d felt, the way his stomach flipped when his feet lifted from the ground, but the way it tangled into the arousal.

Armand could do this, Daniel knows. He would bite, though.

He gasps as his thumbnail finally finds give against the scab, as he tears at his healed skin in the wake. Needling, sharp pain for a moment, and he feels how the blood rushes in, feels it trickling down the side of his neck. He strips harder at his cock, cupping his hand around the blood to keep it from getting on his shirt, and it stings as his palm makes contact.

“Fuck,” he hisses, but doesn’t stop. 

Something disarming about his professor, about being cared for, about the warmth in the blue eyes as he sized Daniel up. Daniel doesn’t always have the best filter, has a short fuse for mouthing off, but even discussing the film over a glass of wine, feeling like the lecture never ended, hadn’t bothered him. Made him feel special or something, made him feel safe. Not disarming like how the vampires had been; not some sinister energy trying to rearrange his brain. It had been, just… something else. 

He remembers it now, for some reason. Doesn’t think of Jeff or any of the others. Goes back to that first time, and how it had been a little frightening, overwhelming, how he’d felt so small. 

Armand is short. Not small, really. Curvy in the places it matters. But he makes Daniel feel that same way, that fragile. That overwhelmed. His neck still stings, and his palm is sticky against the trickling blood, and he tries to remember how it felt to be bitten. 

To be fed on.

His toes curl inside his sneakers, and he digs a heel into the floor, arching his back as he comes. And he’d saved his shirt from the blood, but not from he pearly load that paints across his belly. Breath heaves in his chest and his ears ring as the release pulses through him, and he tries to relax again.

There’s a tiny voice telling him to hang onto the feeling for as long as he can, to enjoy the glow, because he can’t remember the last time he felt good. His body goes lax against the mattress, and he can feel his pulse slowing in his hand, still holding there until he’s sure the bleeding has stopped. The fizzy, irrational light-headedness, the warmth of the orgasm, the blessed quiet nearly convinces him that being almost-murdered was the best sex of his life.

For a blissful minute he floats, doesn’t question it. Holds the doubt at bay and tries to just stay with it.

Because it will disgust him soon, and he knows it. The haze will clear and he’ll remember where he is, remember his clothes are dirty, remember he has to flee, remember he forgot to shower. 

And he’ll wonder how long before his parents realize he’s gone, and he’ll feel bad he forgot to send Alice’s RSVP back. How long before he feels bad that his dad is disappointed in him? At least he’s still too angry for that, but while the cum soaks into his t-shirt and goes cold, he’ll ask himself if he’s a bad son, if he was a bad person.

He lets go of his neck, stares at the rusty smear in his palm, how it darkens the crease of his lifeline. He covers his eyes with his right hand. 

It’s not that he feels guilt for disappointing his dad. It feels a million miles away, too unimportant. More that it’s a cold fact now, something etched into him. Part of his old life, and it doesn’t matter anymore, except that he knows it’s how he will be remembered. 

You died a disappointment.

[previous day] | [next day]

#vamptember 1973 #stuff i wrote #daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #LMAO SO IVE BEEN X-POSTING TO AO3 IN MARCH #i had a few more days that i never posted here but i waited until they were up on ao3 so #anyway now im in a panic i have ilke 2 days before i catch up to myself and have to finish or else ill look like a fool #wish me luck 😂

[strawberrtheartsfanfics]

Can you do conrad x reader please?

Fireworks 🎆

Every year you and your family went and visited the Fishers at there beach house and practically spent the entire summer there. You had a close bond to both the Conklin family and the Fisher family so I was not surprising to se that you and Belly Conklin had a sister like bond, best friends. So what happens when you both have a crush on the oldest Fisher boy Conrad? And what happens when he find out?

“-morning” Belly runs into your bed waking you up dramatically. You weren’t much of a morning person but Belly definitely was

“-it’s like 9 in the morning Belly, just 5 more minutes” you say shifting to the other side of the bed holding your pillow.

“-come on y/n, I need to tell you something” she says dragging you up by your arms

You sigh sitting up in your bed holding your pillow.

“-so I might have kissed Jer” she says

“-No”

“-YES” she almost screams as she throws herself down on the bed

“-I need more and what about Conrad I thought you were like in love with him” I say almost regretting that I asked.

“-I don’t know it kinda just happened”

“-Eww so you’re like hooking up?”

“-no but I think we’re dating, and for the Conrad stuff I don’t know I feel like I just have wasted my time with him.”

“-I get that” I answer back trying not to sound as if am relieved that I can now finally actually accept my feelings for Conrad.

We sit there for at least 30 minutes discussing the kiss between her and Jeremiah until we both get hungry and run down stairs.

Nobody’s up only us. The atmosphere is calm and quiet. We make toast and coffee.

Belly takes a bite out of her toast

“So y/n, what’s your situation this summer?” She asks

“What do you mean?”

“- you always have a guy during the summer, what has happened to you lately, I mean you’re acting like a nun”

“-no am not” I laughed off her question

“-am serious what’s going on?” She asks again

It felt as though I couldn’t breathe. She was my best friend and I had I crush on her first love.

“-I do like someone but I don’t think they like me” I say

“-That’s not even a little bit true” she says raising her eyebrow in disbelief

I smile

“-yeah, how would you know?” I say back

“-cause y/n you’re the type of girl that no guy could turn down. So tell me who”

God I hate myself was all I could think. Why there are 8 billion people in the world and I like him!

-“I like Conrad and I know you hate me but please don’t because trust me I hate myself more” I blurt out. It was like word vomit.

Quite… everything is quite.

I look back footsteps are coming in to the kitchen.

We make eye contact it’s Conrad. Shit shit, shit!!

I get up and take off past him I hear Belly yelling back at me to come back but I can’t not now.

I get to the beach and sit down. Somebody had left a fire still on which was kind of perfect for me because it was still a little bit chilly.

But I was quickly drawn out of my fantasy world when a familiar voice spoke up.

Some time had already passed and I was thinking about just digging a hole in to the sand and just lie down and die.

“- hey” he said as he sat down.

“-hey Connie” I say wanting to die on the spot.

We’re quite,

“- god this is a mess. I mean god” I say

“-maybe” he answers

I turn to him as he speaks up

“-are you sure you like me? Cause you have a different crush every two weeks y/n”

“-God I have liked you for so long you wouldn’t believe me” I say

“-You sure?”

“-Yes every time I se you I don’t get butterflies it’s more like fireworks going, I almost feel dizzy because I like you so much” I say word vomiting again.

“-Good because I have felt the same for you but I never really thought you would feel this way about me”

We stare into each other’s eyes for what felt like hours but was probably like 30 seconds. And he kisses me and it felt like fireworks going of in my head I never wanted it to stop.

As we come up for air he says “-we should probably get home”

“-Let’s just stay here you and me, just for a little” I say

“-I like that” he says before kissing me again.

#conrad fisher #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #fireworks #belly conklin #team conrad #tsitp x reader #tsitp imagine #tsitp conrad #fanfic #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you

[rrenzwrld]

mama’s baby, daddy’s maybe

connie x black!oc

he’s a basketball player w a baby by his best friend that he doesn’t know about

don’t mind me.. just publishing scraps n shit from my notes :)

“Imagine carrying that child for nine months, in labor for four hours, and taking care of her for two years.. Just for her to come out lookin like her goofy ass daddy.” Layla said as she watched Celest’s attention being completely drawn towards the basketball game that was on tv.

“Yeah but she’s a good baby. She doesn’t cause much trouble.” I smiled. Although Celest was a fairly calm child, she still tended to behave like most toddlers. She had her moments where she’d get into things and wail out every now and then, but she was fairly easy to calm down.

“Does she look at tv like that all the time?”

“Yeah. But only if the game’s playing,”

“Springer, from downtown!” The commentator announced. I felt this weird feeling in my heart that I didn’t know how to describe.

“It’s been two years, Chy. You gotta tell him.”

“Do I?” I didn’t bother looking her in the face. My eyes stayed on my daughter as she giggled and clapped at something she didn’t understand.

“Uh, yeah? You’re really gonna rob that baby of a chance to have a father in her life? And do you not remember how close yall used to be?” Layla was telling me things that were true but I didn’t want to face her words. I knew it was wrong to keep Connie from his child but I was also scared. Scared that it wouldn’t work out, scared that I wouldn’t get the happy ending I wanted for me and Celest like I dreamed. Connie and I were close, very close. He was my best friend, essentially. I loved him. I loved him so much that I was willing to cross the line without thinking of the consequences, and now I’m here.

“If you’re worried about him denying her, he couldn’t even if he tried.” Celest had the same bright hazel eyes that shined golden in the sun, just like Connie’s. Celest couldn’t ever be serious. She laughed at almost any and everything that she wasn’t focused on. Just like Connie. There were so many similarities that I acknowledged, Layla was right. He couldn’t deny her even if he wanted.

“Okay let’s say I want him to meet her. How would I go about that? Are you not thinking about him being a whole NBA player and having a reputation to uphold? I’m probably the last thing he thinks about..” As much as it hurt, it was probably the truth. He had been dreaming of playing basketball professionally since elementary school. Who was I to mess that up for him?

“Girl you have connections! Ask Armin to hook you up with some tickets.”

“Do you know how much those tickets cost? I’d have to give up my whole paycheck to pay him back.” Layla rolled her eyes.

“You know Armin is not like that. He’d probably make up something to get you and Celest into the game for free. And front row seats.”

“I thought front row seats were for celebrities..”

“They’re for people who pay. Anyone can sit front row. Just make sure you don’t get hit.” I was really contemplating on doing this. Could this really be my chance?

“Layla, I don’t know…”

“Aww you’re nervous~” She teased.

“What if it’s awkward? What if he’s too busy to even see us after the game? What if there’s paparazzi and-“

“Okay now you’re overthinking. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just call Armin and let him know what you’re gonna do. If you don’t, I will.” I looked down into my lap. There’s no way this would actually work out, right?

“I guess..” I noticed Celest had gotten quiet so I walked over to the couch to see her fast asleep, her little basketball plush in her arms.

“She’s sleep?” Layla asked as I carefully picked up the baby, holding her to my chest. I nodded slowly.

“I’m gonna put her down. Don’t do no funny shit.” I warned. She smiled goofily in response. Knowing her, the gears were winding in her brain and she had something up her sleeve. I just didn’t wanna know what it was.

#aot #aot x oc #black reader #aot x black reader #connie #aot connie #connie springer #nba #basketball au #parents

[bberetd]

Since you asked me, here's my ask! How about, 5, 14, and 22.

Whoop whoop!

Based on this ask game

5. Have you practiced /drawn in other styles?

I supposeee you could say I attempted the Steven Universe style?

This was in 2020, I was obsessed with my American Indian queen Connie 😩

9. What is your least favorite piece that you have done?

This will have to do it. 😬 you know that feeling as you’re doing art, it looks good along the way, but when you finish and step back all the way it’s just… ehhhh? That’s what this piece was for me personally, I was still new to drawing environments and lighting, so it’s not the best. It’s definitely giving me the motivation to recreate it cause I have gained some understanding of lighting over the last two years.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

People!! It just comes the most naturally to me. I’ve been giving myself a challenge to diversify face shapes so not all characters look the same. Obviously, I’ve been drawing Mario stuff a lot, so that isn’t too bad, but when it comes to real life, I’d like to exaggerate some details a bit, which I’m still working on.

Here are some more examples of me trying to practice this, and one w my friends (with their perms ofc, I’m on the bottom right hehe)

#ask game #thanks for asking! #itsavee4117 #Steven universe #super Mario

[archivehub]

Title: Lion Scouts Summary: Steven, Connie, and their four kids go hiking in the North Wydaho wilderness. Word Count: 513

A tiny, wee bit late, but here it is! For Glow Week day 6, I used the prompt "Vacation."

The short is also beneath the cut:

“You know, almost fifteen years ago, your mother and I hiked down this very same trail!” Steven beamed from beside his wife. A gargantuan bag containing an assortment of survival gear rested against his back.

“Yeah? Well it’s boring,” Lisa moaned from over her parents’ shoulders. Her arms were firmly crossed as she paced alongside Lion. “There’s just a bunch of trees and squirrels. If I wanted to see those, I could go into our backyard.”

“I think the trail’s beautiful,” the girl’s younger brother, Gregory, twinkled from behind her. He yanked his yellow-red, hand-me-down ukulele off his back. “I’m getting so much inspiration for my next song,” he grinned before strumming a chord on his instrument.

“If you start singing, I think I’m gonna puke,” the boy’s twin sister, Priya, shivered from his left side. “I already hear enough singing at home; I don’t need to hear any more on vacation,” she snorted, elbowing her brother in his abdomen.

“I think some music would be great right about now,” Grace, the eldest sibling, yawned from atop Lion’s back. “I’m normally all for a good hike, but”—she quirked an eyebrow—”middle-of-nowhere North Wydaho?” She darted her eyes around her surroundings; her most exciting observation was a mossy rock. She tittered, “What are we doing out here?”

“Taking a stroll down memory lane,” Steven sing-songed.

“This was one of your father’s favorite stops on his three-year-long road trip,” Connie lectured as she readjusted her scabbard’s strap. She reminisced, “During my first spring break from college, I joined him out here for a whole week.” She booted a sizable stone from the path. “It was…” she smiled timidly, “romantic.”

“Barf!” Lisa mock-gagged; her siblings all snickered.

The family made their way into a miniature, grassy clearing from which a plethora of nearby landmarks could be made out. Chief among them was a moderately sized, vaguely-heart-shaped lake.

“It’s just as I remember it!” Steven gasped. “Kids, this was our camping spot! We slept here every night for seven days straight!” He sprinted to a nearby boulder which he lifted effortlessly with one arm; beneath it, a pair of familiar initials were carved, encased in a crudely drawn heart. “See? We marked it as ours and everything!”

“Woah, cool,” Grace remarked.

Steven pointed toward a small stream. “That’s where your mother and I searched for crayfish.” He tapped his foot atop a small collection of ovular stones. “Here’s where we made dinner every night.” He whipped around, nearly causing his backpack to topple. “And over there”—he pointed in the direction of a respectable mound—”was where we helped a group of marmots dig a new burrow after a badger destroyed their old one!”

“Badgers are rad,” Lisa smirked. “Should’a let it keep the burrow.”

Swiveling on his heel once more, Steven took immediate notice of the heart-shaped lake in the near distance; he went starry-eyed. “Oh my stars!” he squealed, bouncing on his knees. “Connie, Connie, look! It’s the lake where we—”

The woman slapped a palm over her husband’s mouth. “Not around the kids!” 

#connverse #steven universe #connie maheswaran #su #fanfiction #steven quartz universe #su fanfiction #steven x connie #connie x steven #su fanfic #glowweek #glow week