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#a quiet place 2 smut
kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months
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It's Always the Quiet Ones
Pairing: Emmett x Reader
Word Count: 4.4k
Summary: After spending a few days holed up with a rugged stranger, you finally can't take the tension anymore. Things get a little more complicated when he walks in on you.
Warnings: Smut, masturbation (f), Emmett walking in on you, quiet sex, biting, begging, one fleeting thought about breeding, some fluff, light angst
A/N: Emmett was honestly the start of my whole descent into Cillian Murphy madness, so I'm really searching for my people with this one lol. He's my sad, scraggly boyfriend and I love him <3
***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***
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It’s strangely beautiful, in an overgrown way. Vines hang off of the chain-link fence as you push carefully through the jagged gap, just big enough for a person to pass through. The long grass reaches well above your ankles, and plants seem to spill out from the negative space of every structure littering the lawn.
The air has a cool, muted hue; it looks like rain later. Eyeing the building in front of you, you decide to stop here for the night. 
One step, and then a pause. Something feather-light brushes against your ankle. You look down to see a tripwire, and back away slowly in the direction you came. Interesting. It has been a long time since you’ve seen anyone else alive out here. Though the owner of the tripwire could be long gone.
You take a second look at your surroundings, this time scanning for any sign of a human presence. It’s quiet, but of course, everywhere is quiet now. Delicately stepping over the tripwire, you continue on your path toward the large building. Its looming, brick facade is featureless except for long stalks of ivy tumbling from broken windows, and as you advance you can’t help but feel that the building is watching. The sensation of eyes on you is made even more unnerving in the silence.
You pick your way across the lawn, careful to avoid shards of broken glass and open bear traps. This abandoned factory is quite the fortress, if anyone actually lives here. You reach the end of the grass, and step through a huge, weathered green door, left open on probably-ancient and squeaky hinges. The air here smells of cobwebs and must.
Inside, dripping water echoes faintly, somewhere from deeper inside the building. It’s cold by the open door, and it doesn’t get any warmer as you walk down the hallway, still keeping a careful eye out for anything waiting to meet you.
You turn a corner, and there he is, unexpected. Unexpected to you at least; the man in front of you seems quite prepared as he levels the sights of his rifle.
Instinctively, your hands fly up. The man’s face is covered, except for his eyes, which look to be the only part of him that’s still alive. Even his handling of the gun seems driven by muscle memory, as if he’s a sentry with no programming beyond, simply: “Defend.” You don’t breathe as he looks you over; relaxes a bit as he realizes you’re a lone woman, unarmed except for the hunting knife at your belt. He doesn’t look friendly, exactly - it’s hard to when you’re pointing a rifle in someone’s face. But he also doesn’t look like he really wants to hurt you. More that he just wishes you weren’t here in the first place.
As a show of good faith, you point to your knife, and then to the floor. You nod at him, questioning. He nods back. Slowly, you lower your hands to your belt and unclip the knife. The faintest click of steel against concrete is audible as you lower it to the ground. Straightening, you point to the man across from you; his gun.
Now you.
Just as slowly, the man lowers his weapon to his side. You point at your knife on the floor, expectantly.
Go on…
He’s reluctant, but after a moment of tense silence, his gun joins your knife on the ground.
You smile; hope that you look thankful and not threatening, like he’s just fallen squarely into a trap you’ve set for him.
Thank you, you mouth.
Beneath the bandana that covers his mouth and the hat that shadows his face, the man’s expression is impossible to read. His eyes, piercing blue even as they regard you more casually, move over your whole body once again. Checking you for weapons, though you don’t have anything else on you. When he’s done, you take a gentle step toward him.
Stop.
The man’s right hand flies out in front of him, fingers splayed. You freeze in your tracks. Desperately, you want to tell him that you mean no harm. You just want a place to stay for the night. There’s a cold fear soaking in the corners of his body; you can feel it all the way from here. You hold out your own hands, palms forward, telling him to stay calm. Nobody's going to get hurt. Keeping one hand in front of you, you reach around to your back pocket, intending to pull out the pad of paper you keep on you for the rare occasions you need it to communicate with someone.
Suddenly, your back is against the wall. There’s a strong hand clamped around your wrist; an arm pressed flat against your chest, restraining you. And the man’s face is inches away from your own, his eyes wild with panic.
The dust settles around you, and the echo of your body being slammed on the bricks fades away. You drop what’s in your hand and nudge your head to point at the pad and pencil, showing him. The man’s eyes roll into the back of his head when he realizes - maybe exasperation at you, or maybe frustration at himself for reacting so recklessly. He starts to move away from you-
Click.
A familiar sound comes from just outside the factory door. It’s one of them.
Shit.
The man mutters something, barely audible through the bandana, and then he’s running. Deeper and deeper into the building, his hand in a vice grip around your wrist, pulling you along after him. You feel like a mess of  awkward limbs and flapping skirts as you try to keep up. The thing behind you is in the building now, crashing carelessly through the hallways in its pursuit. Your weapons are both forgotten - not that they would be any more useful here than they are back on the ground where you left them. 
Ahead, the man has let go of your wrist and is now running at a dead sprint, trusting you to either keep up or be killed. He clearly has somewhere he’s going. You blindly follow him, out of any other options and brain too high on adrenaline to think about where he’s taking you. The hallway has opened out into a room, and now you’re weaving through huge pipes and tanks. Your lungs are about to explode. You can’t keep up with-
Suddenly, the man veers sharply to the left and smoothly jumps into a metal structure. Just like that, he’s gone. Nothing to do but follow. You breathe deep and hold it to stop from screaming as you jump in after him.
Dust. It’s in your throat and your eyes as you fall into whatever is piled at the bottom of the drop. You need to cough, but you fight hard not to. Before you can get your bearings, you’re yanked to your feet and thrust in a direction that seems random, until you reach the lip of the metal tank. The man all but throws you inside even as he’s climbing in after you, and then the heavy metal door is shut and the only sound is of two people breathing.
He tears off his hat and bandana. You watch, mesmerized, as the man’s chest rises and falls, struggling to push enough air into his lungs. Then, he utters the first word you’ve heard him say clearly.
“Fuck.”
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The man’s name is Emmett. This you learn as you sit, huddled together but separate, in his makeshift bunker. 
You also learn that he doesn’t want you here.
“Please.” 
Your voice feels tight and painful; jagged around the edges from disuse. It catches sharply in your throat.
“No,” he replies.
The timer on his watch goes off, and Emmett opens the door. His chest is still heaving.
You both step out, listening carefully for any noise above you. The creature, thankfully, seems to have moved on. Emmett stands a little straighter as he turns to face you.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here.” His voice is a whisper, and has the same rusty, unused quality as your own.
“I just need a place for one night.”
You beg with your eyes, and Emmett turns away. He won’t allow himself to be swayed by you.
Later, when it’s - almost- sure to be safe, the two of you go together to collect your discarded weapons. The sky outside has turned an awful gray, and sheets of rain pound into the earth. The sound is louder than anything you’ve heard in months, and the wind howls from all directions. 
Emmett sighs heavily, though he makes no sound. He looks up, seeming to question who would have the audacity to do this, and then turns to you.
One. Night. he mouths, holding up a finger for emphasis. 
He looks at you seriously, and you nod seriously in return. You follow him back down to the lower level, and settle in on opposite sides of the room.
One night, of course, turns into two, and then three. It’s nice to have company. Even Emmett seems to soften a little as the days go on. He doesn’t mention anything about you leaving after that first night, and you take care not to prompt him to. Emmett teaches you how to hide in the huge metal tank; explains the timer and watches you try it with your own alarm a few times to make sure you can do so safely. You busy yourself with mending a few things - broken backpack straps and holes in his old sweaters. He thanks you softly as you hand them back to him.
You catch Emmett looking at you a few times, barely getting a glimpse of the strange expression on his face before he turns away. You catch yourself looking at him too. It’s been so long since you’ve seen another person, but even if it hadn’t been, there’s something magnetic about him. His eyes are like spots of fresh ice against his weathered face. 
“I have something,” you say, over the meager dinner you’re sharing.
You go to your backpack and rustle around, moving slow so as not to make any noise. Finally, you pull out a bottle, its dark glass glowing faintly in the dim light.
“Cream soda,” you whisper, with all the thrill of a child showing off an ill-gotten prize from her mother’s cupboard.
The bottle hisses as you open it, and you both perk up, quickly alert for any sound of a threat above you. Safe. You pass the bottle to Emmett, offering him the first sip. It’s simple, but a rare treasure in this broken world.
“What’s the special occasion?” he asks, the barest hint of a smile drifting over his lips.
You watch as his mouth wraps around the bottle's opening, and as he gingerly tips it back to drink. He takes two quick swallows, his throat bobbing twice, then hands the bottle over to you. You take it, fingertips brushing against his for just a moment, and take a quick swig before you can think for too long about how his lips were just touching the rim.
“It’s just nice to have a treat sometimes,” you reply, shrugging. 
You hand the bottle back and Emmett takes it by the neck, letting the edge of his hand linger against yours for several seconds. You make no move to pull away. 
“It is,” he agrees. “Been a long time since I’ve had anything sweet.”
In the very back of your mind, you wonder if he’s still talking about the soda. No - stop that. You don’t need to go ruining the good thing you have going.
You had asked Emmett, on the morning of the second day, if he was alone. He’d paused for a moment before answering.
“Yes… Well, I mean… Yes.”
You'd decided not to prod any further. 
Now, as you look down at your hand ghosting against his, you notice again his wedding band, firmly wrapped around his finger. It's hard not to notice, and it's even harder to ignore the dozens of sketches that litter the room, pinned and draped on every surface. All of them show the same young boy. He could be a son, or a nephew, or just some random kid that something terrible happened to - you haven't wanted to ask. Everyone is beyond traumatized in this new world, and far be it from you to question whatever brings anyone comfort. Suddenly feeling guilty, you let go of the bottle and look away as Emmett takes another sip.
"Hey," he whispers. Your head snaps back up to look at him. "I have something too."
Emmett puts the soda down between you, methodically clears the table, and pulls out a very weathered deck of cards.
"You ever play Gin Rummy?"
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The next morning, Emmett is up early. You stay in your sleeping bag, pretending that you haven't woken up yet, and watch him pull on his hat and boots. He slips on a pair of heavy leather gloves. You stir, "waking up," and Emmett walks over to you.
"Gonna go check the traps," he explains, kneeling down. "I'll be back."
You're struck by the way the moment feels almost domestic; as if he's promising you he'll be home for supper. Your eyes trail over him lazily, taking in the firm shape of his bare arms and the way his hands are abruptly covered by the work gloves. The thought of him roughly grabbing you by the waist flashes through your mind; the material rubbing your skin as his fingers sink into your sides. You swallow heavily; blink a few times.
"You should wear a jacket," you whisper.
Emmett has already started to walk off, but he turns around and smirks at your words. For a moment, it seems like he's about to say something. But it passes, and then he continues in the direction he was headed, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair.
Once Emmett is gone, you have the place to yourself. Scant sunlight filters through the opening in the ceiling, giving you just enough light to read by. You pull out a well-worn book from your backpack, and settle into the chair Emmett's jacket was on to read it.
Quickly, the words start to swim on the page; falling forgotten into the margins. You can't get your mind off the image of Emmett leaving, blue eyes barely visible under the brim of his hat as he looked back over his shoulder. Had there been a teasing look to them, or was that just you imagining things again? Your mind flashes to an image of Emmett giving you his jacket, wrapping it around you, tight and safe. Pulling you close to him, and-
Okay, time to be honest. Emmett has been driving you crazy the past few days. And not in a bad way, but in an "imagining him tangled between your legs" kind of way. You know you shouldn't think like that. Your relationship with him is undefined and shaky at best; you shouldn't go risking it. But it's getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reaching out and snaking your fingers through his hair; against the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve; sliding them down past his belt and-
Stop.
You practically have to bite your lip as you beg yourself. You listen for a moment to the silence. Emmett should be gone long enough. And under three feet of solid concrete, you feel safe to relax a little. You desperately need to let out some frustration.
But still, it feels too open out here. Too exposed. Even if you are alone, you just want some more privacy.
Your eyes drift to the steel bunker.
Okay, you can be quick. You have your watch and can time it and be careful. With how horny you are, this shouldn't take long at all. And in the worst case scenario, Emmett will be back soon and can let you out if you get stuck. This is a perfect idea.
You climb inside, set your watch, and close the door. Keeping your head by the entrance in case you need to rush the exit, you don't waste any time getting started.
You touch yourself, shocked at how wet you are already. Might as well take advantage of the sound-proof tank. You hiss as you slide a finger between your folds, finally not bothering to keep quiet.
"Oh, fuck, Emmett."
You desperately wish these were his fingers instead of your own. You plunge two inside yourself immediately; revel in the delicious sting. Legs squeezing together, trapping your own hand, rutting up against your palm. You imagine him hovering over you, blue eyes staring into yours as he watches you fall apart.
"Oh, fuck!"
Above your head, the door swings open. You freeze, hand still plunged sinfully down the front of your pants and hips bucking halfway off the steel floor. Next to you, your watch alarm beeps, calling more attention to your shame.
You look up, and suddenly Emmett staring back at you isn't a fantasy anymore.
"I'm… uh," you stammer in a hissed whisper, searching for any words. But the power of speech has left you. It seems to have left Emmett as well.
His mouth is practically hanging open, and after a moment of shocked panic, he quickly tears his eyes away. 
Taking the opportunity, you sit up and try to arrange yourself - although it's impossible to look presentable after you've just been caught fucking your own fingers to the thought of the man standing in front of you. 
"I'm sorry," Emmett whispers, frantic. He’s pacing; tears off his work gloves and throws them to the ground. Tosses his hat onto a table and runs a hand through his hair. "I thought something happened, and I wanted… well I didn't think - not that it's anything to be ashamed of. Everyone has urges."
"Do you?"
The sound of your voice shocks even you, despite the low volume you're speaking at. Your legs are dangling out the open door of the bunker, and you watch as Emmett stops in his tracks. 
“What?” he whispers.
“Everyone has urges,” you echo, placing your feet on the floor. “Do you?”
“I don’t know what you…”
You stand up, taking a bold step toward him. Emmett takes a half step back. His eyes are blown wide, fear and confusion, as you take another step. This time he stays.
You place a hand on Emmett’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath.
You’re only inches apart. One more step and your body would be pressed flush against his, just like you’ve been thinking of these past few days. From this distance, you can hear the shakiness in his breathing. 
“Tell me to stop.”
It’s a dare; a challenge; a bald-faced lie. You look up at him, pleading with your eyes for him to stay quiet. To not stop you. To keep going. 
“Tell me to stop.”
You’re on your tiptoes now, lips hovering right in front of his. Emmett swallows hard, and you can feel it reverberate through his whole chest. Looking you right in the eyes, he shakes his head.
No.
Emmett pulls you the rest of the distance. His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you like you can stop him from drowning. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it. Emmett has to hold you to keep you from falling to the floor. 
Gently, he eases you down. You’re desperate, pulling at him, trying to bring him to you faster. Your legs open to wrap around his waist. God, you’ve needed this. 
Emmett is scrambling to take off his jacket, and even though it only takes a few seconds, it is an eternity. To exist without his body pressed against yours. You hastily unbutton your pants, and Emmett tears them the rest of the way down.
There’s a pause, and you look up at him. Emmett is transfixed, but seems to quickly snap out of it when he notices you - embarrassed. You lean up on your elbows, but Emmett stops you, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. 
Be quiet.
You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Emmett straddle you; reach his hand down between your legs. 
Oh, fuck.
His fingers are even better than you’d imagined. Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Emmett’s face is stoic with concentration, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him. 
After teasing your entrance for a moment, Emmett slips a finger inside you. There’s that weightless feeling again; it’s like being drunk. You could ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you.
Desperate, you scramble for something to hold onto. There’s nothing on the stone floor. Emmett is your only lifeline, and you grab at the hem of his shirt, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers. 
Panting. You’re actually panting as he pulls out of you, instantly missing the way his fingers curled up inside of you. You’re still holding onto his t-shirt for dear life, and he gently removes your hand. You can’t see straight, but there’s the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being undone, and a zipper loosening. When you look up again, Emmett is hovering over you, his body planted between your legs.
He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you.
The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s plunged into you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache.
“Please, Emmett.”
The fingers on your waist tighten, digging into your side. For a second, you worry you’ve upset him, but then he looks up at you, eyes blazing with lust. He looks like a man about to lose himself, and you smile as you move your hands up to his chest, gripping at his collar to pull him close as you whisper again. 
“Please.”
Emmett is pounding into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Emmett lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. 
“Fuck, Emmett.” 
You whisper in his ear, breath brushing the strands of hair that fall around his face. Emmett brings his own lips right to the side of your cheek; his words tickle as he continues to fuck you.
“You know, you have a dirty mouth,” he tells you. “And here I thought you knew how to stay quiet.”
You whimper, and a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Emmett leans in to whisper to you again, devilishly. 
“Bite down if you need to.”
Fuck, he’s going to be the death of you.
Emmett is grunting, softly, as he fucks into you just a little bit faster. The sound of him coming undone is enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down onto his hand, muffling the sound of your cries as you orgasm. 
If he’s hurt, he doesn’t show it. Emmett continues to rut into you as you bite the side of his hand, trying desperately to stay as quiet as you can. You want him to hold you down, breed you, spill everything into you with no care for the consequences. Emmett pulls his hand away and plants it on the ground, trying to balance himself.
“Where do you want me to cum?”
His words are breathless; you love hearing him like this. You bask in them, arching your back against the floor, not answering.
“Where do you want me to- Fuck!”
Emmett pulls out of you, trying and failing at the last second to cup a hand around himself. Cum gets everywhere, dripping from his fingers to the floor, coating the insides of your legs. He looks down at himself for a moment; shakes off his hand before wiping it on his pants, still halfway on in his rush to be inside you. 
“Now you decide to be quiet, huh?”
He’s leaning over you again, whispering teasingly in your ear. He pinches your waist and kisses your cheek before pulling away, showing you the mischief in his eyes.
Somewhere above you, there’s a crash followed by a loud screech. Maybe you weren’t as quiet as you’d thought.
“Shit.” Emmett yanks his pants up and pulls you both to your feet. The sounds of something getting closer are clearly audible. You should be scared, but instead you’re excited.
“Let’s go.”
You tug at Emmett’s wrist as you lead him toward the bunker. Two minutes and thirty seconds - that’s how long you have before the timer goes off. You tumble, pulling him in after you. The door closes behind you with a soft thud.
You want to hear him scream.
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cillianhead · 5 months
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★ MASTERLIST ★
Hey this is the masterlist with all the fics i've written so far (and will be updated every time i upload a new fic)
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Cillian Murphy x Reader:
Put The Beatles On, Light The Candles, Go Back To Bed (fluff)
Three And A Half Months (smut)
Illicit Affairs (smut, dad's best friend!Cillian)
In Your Car, I'm A Star (smut)
Wind In My Hair, I Was There (angst + smut)
Lazy Sundays (smut)
A New Pair of Glasses (smut) (part one)
Red Eyes (smut) (part two)
Strawberry Syrup (smut)
Jonathan Crane x Reader:
Sitting Pretty (smut)
Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (fluff + angst + comfort)
Neil Lewis x Reader:
Pussy-Whipped (smut)
You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive (smut + angst)
Slut (smut)
Thomas Shelby x Reader:
Show Me How Much You Need Me (smut)
Ambrosia (smut)
Look What You Made Me Do (smut)
Emmett (A Quiet Place II) x Reader:
Scream For Me (smut)
Oppenheimer
- Oppie is a sub? (smut)
don't see something you think should be there? send me requests and i'll write em <3
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deceitfuldevout · 6 months
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Savior (Part 1)
Dark!Emmett x Reader
Word count: +2,394
Warning(s) in chapter: +18, Non con, Breeding, Forced Breeding, Minor character deaths, Kidnapping, Mentions of past character death, Murder.
Author's Note(s): I'm still riding the Cillian high.
It was summertime in Akron, NY. Life was simple, peaceful, was. You were excited to be starting as an elementary school teacher. Until they arrived, death Angels, they were called. Slaughtering anyone and anything in sight that made sound. There was only one thing you could do, and that was to survive.
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It's been 474 days since the apocalypses began. Winter was approaching, so you and your group decided to venture out. You were careful with each step. Who knows when or where a creature would be lurking. They're quick and stealthy. Almost silent. A mistake your teammate makes resulted in your entire team's demise.
A sudden trip on a hidden string causes a wind chime to clatter down, purposely alerting the creatures. Before your team has a chance to escape, they were quickly dragged off by the creatures. One by one their screams were heard. You ran, as fast as you could. Until your legs almost gave out. You couldn't believe it. Everyone, everyone was gone. You were all alone, dealing with the aftermath of yet another loss.
The adrenaline still pumping though your veins as you took each step. You hadn't even realized the hidden beartrap until it was too late. It takes every ounce of your energy not to scream in pain. You force yourself to swallow it down, muffling a cry. Fat tears role down your cheeks. It takes you a while to compose yourself. After that the realization hits. You were trapped in the middle of nowhere. With only a backpack filled with medical supplies.
This was it, this time, you would surely die. A deep feeling of dread consumes all your senses as you wobble to a sitting position, the pain becoming excruciating. You really did try your best to stay alive. But when your vision begins to blur, you embrace the darkness, letting it consume you.
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When you had woken up your body felt heavy. A throbbing pain pulses though your head. It was hard even trying to lift yourself from the bed. Wait, what? You swiftly lift yourself up, looking around to find out just where the hell you were. How the hell did you end up here?!
"You were out for a while," a voice calls. You turn around to find a man seated at a desk, just now finishing up his meal. He's dressed from head to toe. His outgrown beard covers most of his features. A trucker's hat covering the top of his head. It was hard to tell what he looked like in the dark, "Here," he hands you a bowl, it's canned soup. You hesitantly take it from him, "Thank you..." eating it with careful bites.
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You notice him still staring but choose to ignore it. He was kind enough to save you back there. Surely he wasn't so bad. Emmett recognizes you the moment he found you lying unconscious at the front of his hideout. For a moment, he thought you were surely gone. Until he hears a faint whine escapes your lips. He doesn't know why he decided to drag you inside. Maybe he just needed a sign.
"Your friends they uh, they didn't make it," feeling sorry for what he'd just said. Your heart broke for them. One small mistake costed them their lives. A part of you carried survivor's guilt with you. Thankfully you weren't alone. He was at the right time and place. When you try kicking your legs out of bed a sharp pain hits one of them. A painful grunt escapes your lips.
You with certain now, your foot was broken, small jagged cuts decorate the heel and ankle. It seems as though he tried to help, "I did my best to stop the bleeding but...'m not a miracle worker," his voice is deep, raspy with age and time. It sounded too familiar. That's when it hits you, "Emmett?" There was no doubt, you were sure it was your old neighbor. Hell, you used to babysit his boys. Your brows furrow, now worried, "What happened to...?"
"Gone, I lost the boys to those things, and Nora, she couldn't take it..." his eyes start to glisten. His once lively spirit now the shell of a man he used to be. He's taken aback when you start to cry, "I'm so sorry Emmett..." you cried, "I loved them so much..." mourning the loss of his family. He knows very well, his boys were fond of you. Even asking if you could be their teacher for the next school year. You even applied to an open position for the upcoming fall. After all this time fate still had a way with bringing people together.
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Emmett lets you rest up for a few days while out on a supply run. He even left a few supplies and food by your bedside. You wanted to know where you were, but with your leg being in the condition that it was, it was impossible. For now, it was best to rest while it heals. You didn't want to weigh him down.
In the meantime, you try different ways to stay busy. Each day completing at least two to three tasks around the room. Whether it was stretching, exercising, or attempting to walk again. Soon enough you were able to limp for a certain amount of time. Emmett was sweet enough to get you a crutch.
As time passed, you began to make yourself comfortable. Its been a while since you’ve arrived. To the point where the two of you had a daily routine. Emmett would be out, either hunting or gathering food and supplies. While you stayed to look over the compound. When Emmett would arrive after a long day of work, he'd come home find a homecooked meal waiting. It's been a while since he’s had a proper meal.
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Emmett halts at the door, watching as you hum a tune while finishing up dinner. You sat on a wheeled office chair while getting the plates ready. He approaches you from behind, "Here, let me," carrying dinner to the table. The both of you ate in silence. But it wasn't awkward, you both enjoyed each other's company. You're the first one to speak up, "Hey so..." starting the conversation, "As soon as my leg heals, would it be alright if I come help?"
Emmett couldn't hide the look of disapproval on his face. He doesn't think you're ready, or even fit to go out there, "No,"
"No? Why? I can walk now and--" "No, final answer,"
"Are you serious?"
"As serious as I can be,"
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"But it was only one time! They didn't get me--"
"It's not just the monsters you should be worried about..." he pauses, "...the people, they're not the same," as if it were coming from experience, "Look at your leg, you think a monster did that?" he scoffs. You were the last thing that reminding him of how kind life was before. He can't risk losing the little beacon of light left. Not again.
Emmett won't admit it, but it was lonely during the past few months. You made it all the more bearable. Something stirred inside of him. Just the thought of a pretty little thing waiting for him at home. He felt guilty. As if he didn't deserve a second chance. So, what does he do when confronted with a problem? He avoids it altogether. Emmett would spend hours going on raids just to avoid being in the house. Being alone with a pretty little thing like you would only lead to trouble.
It's been a while since he'd been with someone. During a supply run he'd found a few magazines to help, but it hadn't done the job. They weren't the same. Not even close. He can't even remember the last time he's emptied himself deep inside a pussy. His breathing becomes shallow from the thought of it.
"Emmett?" you tilt your head. Shit, what did you say? "I asked if you wanted more," scooting the bowl of stew towards him. He's flustered, "Sure thing," when he reaches for it his calloused hand brushes against yours. He's in awe by how soft it is. You were this ethereal being, who just so happened to stumble upon his hideout. He quickly retrieves his hand. Not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But did he really want that?
It was just the two of you all alone down here. He's much stronger than you. If he wanted, he could just take you, right here right now. And there would be no one to stop him. He imagines you on your knees, looking up at him with that innocent look. Shit...he has it, bad.
He can't decide if it was pure desire, or simply part of his nature to breed. You were already a natural playing the role of a homemaker. It's not like there was anything else to worry about. He would take care of you. He'll provide you with anything you need. All you had to do was give him a little something in return. Just once wouldn't hurt. As you ready yourself for bed, you notice Emmett still standing there. You turn towards him, curious of what he was doing. He pulls out a thin metal chain. What was that for?
"Please, don't fight it..." he nears. At that moment your heart sunk. Emmett held the metal in his hands, "You already know I'm stronger, so don't try to stop me," nearing the edge of the bed. You look at him with a look of dread, "Emmett?" eyeing the chain cautiously, "W-what are you doing?"
"Sh... just let it happen..." he nears, "I promise you I'll take good care of you, you'll never want anything else,"
"Emmett? No..." tears began to form. You couldn't run away from him, not with a limp. All you could do was scurry to the corner of the bed. Emmett links the chain to bottom of the metal bedframe. He held your good ankle in hand before linking it to the cuff. You're well aware he's much stronger, he even carried you all the way down here. He straddles your waist, and you scream profanities, lashing out at the man you once called a friend.
Emmett tries pleading with you to hear him out, he tries to muffle your screams with his hand. But instead, you retaliate by biting it. He grunts in pain, now retrieving it. He's not amused at all by your little rebellious stunt. This wasn't you. He doesn't have time for any temper tantrums. He's not angry, only determined, "Fine, have it your way," he's done having to fight for what's rightfully his.
He could've let you die out there, just like your teammates. It was your fault for trespassing, you were the ones who triggered his trap. Instead, he'd given you a new purpose in life. You'll never be exposed to the dangers of the outside world again. He'll make sure of it.
During the past few months, Emmett went absolutely feral. He couldn't keep his hands off you. Just this morning, you'd woken up to him buried deep inside you pussy, grunting like some sort of animal in a rut as he pounded that tight little cunt of yours. Still half asleep, you tried your best to ignore him. But when he raises your leg over his shoulder to deepen the thrusts, you couldn't hold it in. Small grunts escape your lips as you turn your head to the side, avoiding his gaze.
He leans in, "Hey...hey pretty girl, don't hide from me..." a hand cups the side of your cheek, turning you to face him. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, his hips still jutting in and out your channel. You were just starting to get used to his pace when suddenly he starts picking up speed. Your hands reach out to halt his movements, but he wrenches them off. Now pinning them to your sides as he chases his climax.
You feel the familiar sensation of his spunk now filling your womb. It's hot and sticky, some of it drips down and staining the sheets, "Fuck..." Emmett knew he should've laid out a towel. By now there was a small puddle of your juices mixed together. He would have to see if there were any blankets during his next run.
"Sh... just go back to sleep," he whispers. He couldn't help himself. He was tired and sore after spending most of the day scavenging for supplies. But as soon as he saw you sleeping soundly, in that sexy slip-on he’d gifted a while back, well, he just couldn't help himself. Is it not in his nature? There was no way you didn't know the power you had on him. He sighs, admiring your bow tuckered form.
It was a smart idea chaining you to the bed post. That reminds him, the purpose of today's trip. Emmett retrieves a salve from his bag. He starts rubbing it into the raw skin of your ankle before covering it with a gauze, "I'm sorry..."
"No, you're not…" you whisper to him. You're right, he's not. He kept both of your hands wrapped up in fabric bindings, so that you wouldn't hurt him or yourself. At first, he didn't mind the scratches, but when you almost claw his eyes out, that's when the idea had struck.
Emmett had warned you that the people weren't the same since then, including himself. He won't admit it, but as soon as he laid eyes on your unconscious form, the only thing he could think of was planting his seed deep inside you. He knew it was a good idea to save you, or was it you who saved him?
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idksmtms · 2 months
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Silence - Emmett (AQPII) x Younger!reader
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Summary: You had seen Emmett before everything went to hell, but you didn't actually know him. Now though? Now he was all you had. He was everything. 
Word count: 3.9k 
Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (both characters are still 18+), p in v s*x, fingering, daddy kink, discussions of death, discussions of trauma, attempting to exchange sex for services (doesn’t actually happen tho), mental health struggles, (please let me know if I missed any) 
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the A Quiet Place or A Quiet Place Part 2 characters. I do not claim to own any of these characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)
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You hadn’t known it was him when you had followed the man in the abandoned factory down the chute. You hadn’t known it was him when you had landed with a thud right behind him and he had whirled on you as the screeches from the monster above echoed metallically over you. You still hadn’t known it was him when he had pulled you away from the entrance and into the old pipe and shut the door behind you and sat just in front, heaving and staring out of the little window inlaid in the door. But then, with shaking hands he had pulled down the scarf over his face and stared at you like you were somehow the craziest part of this new world, and simply uttered the words “what the fuck.” You had jumped forward then, slamming your palms to his mouth and widening your eyes to try and communicate how stupid he was being, but he just shoved you off and waited until you had sorted yourself into a seated position once more to speak. “They can’t hear us down here, especially if you whisper.” You stared at him, listened to the rough gravel of his voice, and it finally clicked in your mind who this was. 
You remembered Emmett from before. He had run the garage in your town and your dad always took your car there to get it fixed. You had never talked to him much, just a hi or hello there if you went to the garage with your dad or if you bumped into him somewhere in town, and it was alright considering you had just graduated high school when the creatures landed. Sure, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen, but it’s not like you thought about that much (you used to think about it all the time). You guys didn’t have much business with each other, he was a married man, so what did it matter? He had been your favourite naive high school crush. But that’s all it was. Then the creatures landed and any feeling other than survive, survive, survive, hadn’t entered your head since. 
“Mr. Emmett?” You finally whispered, hands pressed close to your mouth out of fear. You didn’t remember the last time you had spoken. What had been the last thing you said?
 He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Y/n?” 
“Yeah,” you nodded, clasping your hands together and rocking back and forth slightly. The air was getting stuffier and you could feel your lungs getting tighter. Then something started beeping and he reached over and opened the door. He jumped out and began pacing as you clambered out of the pipe like a human spider. 
You finally got a chance to look around the space you had fallen into, and it was… quaint. There was no better word really, because it wasn’t nice but it was much better than some places you had been. A pile of cushions and sheets and maybe a duvet (you couldn’t tell) made up a sleeping area in the corner. There were a pair of folding chairs across a makeshift coffee table with an oil lamp on it on the other side of the space and pieces of paper were tacked up on the wall above them. They were drawings, you quickly realised, of three different people over and over again. Was it his wife and kids? You could recognise Nora, but you had never paid particular attention to his kids, so is that what they looked like? 
You turned to Emmett and it seemed he had come to a decision. He began shaking his head and you knew exactly what he was going to say. Dread filled your stomach, filled every bone and every skin cell. You had barely survived on your own on the journey to finding this place. The group you had been with before… they were either picked away or went crazy but they had also been the reason you survived this long. You were, for lack of a better term, useless at survival. Other people had hunted for you, other people had killed for you, all you could do was watch over things, and run. 
“Please,” you began to whisper in a hurry, “please don’t make me go. Please, Mr. Emmett,” you rushed over to him, clasping his forearms and forcing him to look at you. His eyes were haunted, and you were sure he had seen terrible things, things that would stay with him till he eventually succumbed to whatever death awaited him in this new wasteland, but so had you. “Mr. Emmett, I can’t survive out there on my own,” your voice was clogged with tears now, your eyes shiny and dripping onto your cheeks, “if I don’t die as soon as I step out of here, then it’ll be within a few days, at most a week. I can’t do anything on my own Mr. Emmett, I’m fucking useless!” You sobbed, a sound so loud he slapped a hand over your mouth and hushed you aggressively, but you continued crying, leaning into his hand as you blubbered. 
This was the first time you had cried since that first day. There had been no time to cry later, always on the run, always worrying about something, and now it was finally hitting you. Your world was truly ending, and these last-minute grabs to try and save it weren’t going to work. 
“Sh, sh, alright,” he whispered, “alright, just calm down, just calm down and be quiet.” 
You pressed your lips together and pulled away, wiping at your eyes and trying to quell the need to hiccup out more sobs. Emmett sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead, eyes closed as he shook his head and muttered to himself. 
“Please, Mr. Emmett,” you whispered again, looking up at him with those big eyes of yours that made his resolve melt. “I’ll do anything for you, anything,” you dropped your backpack to the floor and began pulling up the hem of your tank top. You had never had the luxury of a jacket, and there were many cold nights barely survived in this tank top, but after a while you had learnt to be thankful for every little thing you had. 
You looked him in the eyes as your shirt began to rise, no shame, just desperation. Just as the hem reached the undersides of your breasts, he reached out and grabbed your hand so tight your knuckles began to hurt. 
“Stop,” he bit out, staring at the floor as he forced your hand back down your stomach. Once he was sure you were covered up again, he looked at you again and sighed like the weight of the world had come crashing back down on his shoulders all over again. “You can stay, but you at least have to learn how to use a gun, in case I’m not here.” 
“Yes, yes anything,” you breathed out, and launched yourself onto him, hugging him around the neck and pressing your cheeks together. Oh how long it had been since you had hugged someone. He was so warm and you could feel his firm frame under his clothes. Clearly it had been just as long for him since he hadn’t even bothered to reciprocate, hands hanging at his sides and body frozen. Slowly you released him, stepping back and staring at the ground as he cleared his throat and turned away to do… something. Whatever a person needs to do nowadays. 
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He had sacrificed some of his sheets and pillows for you to make your bed, but you didn’t stray too far from his own setup, wanting to know that there was someone with you when you were going to sleep. You had quickly fallen into a routine within the next few days of living together. You would wake up when you heard the rustling of his sheets, spending some time washing up and nibbling on just enough food to quiet the growls in your stomachs. Then he would sit in one of the folding chairs and draw, the soft scratching of his pencil against paper filling the space. You occupied the other chair and began to work your way through the small pile of books he had. Sometimes both of you would look up simultaneously if you heard a click or a creak echo down the chute, but when it was silent once again you would return to your own activities without saying a word. 
On the third day, he decided to venture out to gather more food and water. You had watched him ready himself for the trip, wrapping the scarf around his face, gathering up his shotgun, then climbing the ladder without a look back. You had tried to read while he was away, but your mind couldn’t focus. At every sound, or even the illusion of sound, your head snapped to the chute to see if he was back. Eventually you abandoned your seat and began to pace, staring at his drawings and sifting through the pages of his journal. There were a lot more drawings in there, and you wondered how he had chosen the ones to put up. Even the half-finished ones were beautiful, and you felt a sudden onset of tears as you turned page after page of their faces. You were careful not to let a tear fall on any of the papers, and gently set it back down, caressing the leather cover for a moment before going to his pile of sheets and settling down for a nap on top of them. 
You woke up when he returned. You hadn’t realised how much noise actually happened just by two people existing, but the sound of his feet on the ladder rungs, his panting breaths, even the rustle of his clothes suddenly seemed so loud after the hours of quiet solitude. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, watching as he set out the supplies before walking over to you and handing you something. He didn’t comment that you were on his bed, and you didn’t make any move to get up, and he just went back to his chair journal. You stared at the pile in your hands, five new books in various states of decay, but all readable. They must have been a completely unnecessary weight for him, only a hindrance and a danger, but he had brought them. For you. You stared at the pile in your hands, a collection of paperbacks you had never heard of, and then you looked at him. He was busy with the journal, head bent low over the paper, and something bloomed in your chest, filling you up with all this… happiness? Joy? Love? You weren’t sure what those felt like anymore but it must be close. 
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Two weeks after you had arrived in his little sanctuary, winter truly began to set in. It had started to become colder at night, and you were lucky enough to be sheltered away from any winds, but the chill that settled in the air at night seeped into your bones. For the first week you could survive by bundling up as tight as possible in all your blankets and a jacket that Emmett had scavenged for you. But with every night that passed, even that wasn’t enough to keep the cold out, and most of your nights were spent awake and shivering, hoping you wouldn’t die of hypothermia. 
At last, on one particular night, you truly couldn’t handle the cold anymore, and you decided enough was enough. Heaters didn’t exist anymore, but body warmth was a natural heater, and you had a perfectly good body nearby. You turned over under your blankets and slowly began shifting your way over to his pile. You could see his body moving under his blankets with every breath, and you were sure he was still awake, because why wouldn’t he be? Who could sleep in this cold, even Emmett? You managed to make your way to his bedding and slipped under his blankets. Emmett turned over, staring at you in the dark, but you just continued burrowing yourself closer to him until your head was pressed under his chin and your arms and legs were wrapped around him. Once you had felt the warmth emanating from him, there was no turning back. He only had on a t-shirt under the blankets and he shivered whenever your skin made contact with his. You were freezing cold yet he was hotter than the sun. The skin on his arms was soft, and you lightly ran your hands up and down it before wrapping him up in your arms once more. 
At first, Emmett didn’t move. Again, he was frozen, just like when you had hugged him. But slowly, as the quiet settled in again and both of your breaths evened out once more, he moved his arms to wrap around you in return, pressing you close to his chest and splaying his hands over your back. Every breath he took ruffled your hair and your every breath fanned his neck. Both of you were quiet, soaking in each other’s touch. It had been aeons since either of you had felt the sustained touch of another person, had just been held by another person. It was an indescribable comfort that you now deemed essential to your survival. 
From then on, every night passed in this fashion. You would wriggle your way into his cocoon of blankets and he would wrap you up tight in his arms, pressing his lips to the top of your head without a thought. It made life seem better somehow. Waking up every morning in his arms, knowing that that’s how the day was going to end made everything more… bearable. 
Three weeks later Emmett ventured out on another supply trip. You had silently been having a particularly difficult day. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything, neither your book nor the pencil drawings you had picked up since being around Emmett. Your mind felt hyperactive but so overly tired at the same time and you wanted to venture out for a walk but you knew Emmett would have a fit if you left the space without him. Instead, you settled down on his bed and waited for him to come back once more. When he did return, again carrying a small pile of books, you didn’t bother getting up to greet him like you usually did. You stayed curled up on the sheets and stared at the wall, overcome with a wave of despondency that made you feel paralysed. Emmett watched you as you lay there, and after putting away all the supplies, came to lay down beside you. He hesitated before touching you, unsure how to handle this mood, but eventually decided to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back until you were flush to his body. 
He had grown overly fond of you in the time since you had invaded his life. You had become life itself to him. At first he had dreaded the thought of caring for someone else. After the way it had ended with his children and Nora, he didn’t want to be responsible for anyone but himself. He would have no regret of his own death. But then you started complimenting his drawings and trying to make the little hovel prettier wherever you could. You told him stories of your life before while you guys ate or you simply existed beside him, a presence always there to reassure him. And it made his heart feel all warm and reminded him what was so good about being alive in the first place. 
He had thought about what people would have said about you two if the apocalypse hadn’t happened. He had thought every single judgemental thought about how young you were and how old he clearly was next to you. But then he remembered that this wouldn’t have happened without an apocalypse anyway. The world was gone, and with it norms and propriety. While he still had his values, he also recognised you were an adult now, and in this world it didn’t matter if he was older. All that really mattered was if you felt the same way about him. 
Emmett pressed his lips to the back of your head and waited, listening to your breaths shudder slightly as you pressed back against him, hands coming up to clasp his. You ran your thumb over his knuckles a few times before turning over to face him. You clasped his face in your hands and made sure he met your eyes. He could see that they were shiny but no tears had fallen yet. 
“Don’t leave me alone anymore,” you whispered, “I can’t stay here waiting for you to come back wondering if you even will. I feel sick to my stomach every time you walk out because you are all I have left. If you die out there, then I have no reason to keep living. You carry my heart with you everywhere you go, right here,” you gently patted his chest, “so I can’t have you going out there without me anymore. I can’t. If you die, I die.” Emmett stared into your eyes. You were so serious, not a single stutter in your words, and all he could do was whisper ‘ok’ in return. You nodded, still grasping his face in your hands, before moving forward and kissing him gently. 
Emmett pushed himself even closer to your face, his nose pressing into the crevice between your nose and cheek, and slipped his tongue into your mouth. His hand slid under your shirt, tickling the warm skin as he ran it up until he was grasping your breast in his hand. He couldn’t get enough of you already. Your mouth was so soft and each kiss became more ravenous as both of you pressed your open mouths together. He gripped your breast and squeezed revelling in the breathy sounds you let into his mouth, rubbing your nipple and pinching it, flicking the little nub until you were moving your hips without realising. 
Emmett moved over you until he was settled into the space between your legs and began grinding into you, settling his weight onto your body. You pulled away from his mouth and hurriedly lifted off your shirt. You began tugging at his but he just pushed your hands away and threw it off himself. Everything had escalated so quickly that neither of you had patience for anything but getting him inside of you as quickly as possible. The air around you had become boiling hot and the space between you was stifling.
He was quick to unbutton your pants and push them down until one leg had been freed. Neither of you cared about the other leg. His own were pushed down just until he was freed and he let out a groan of relief right into your ear. When you began trying to push him down and into you, he pressed down on your hips and hushed the whines that burst out of you. 
“I have to prep you, come on baby,” he kissed your cheek, your chin, your neck, then reached down to the apex of your thighs. You were wet all over and so hot he could feel the heat before he even touched. He panted into your neck as he began gliding his fingers along your pussylips, pressing between them and twisting his index and middle fingers so they were covered in your slick. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby,” he muttered into your neck, pressing his fingers to your clit. “My baby’s dripping all over and it’s all for me, huh?” He seemed to be talking to himself as it didn’t matter if you answered or not. You were too lost in the sensations of his rough fingertips running back and forth over your swollen clit, pressing and rubbing and pinching until your legs were trying to close around his hand and your hips were wriggling. 
“Daddy, please,” you whispered, and he groaned so loud you rushed to slap your hand over his mouth. God it had been so long since a woman had called him that. If he wasn’t careful he would cum from humping your leg. Emmett pushed a finger into you and instantly started up a rhythm. He felt your squishy insides and the texture of your walls and curled his fingers every time he pushed them into you. Your legs had fully tightened around his hand that he couldn’t see it anymore but it didn’t matter, as long as he could move it and watch the way you scrunched up your face, panting into the air, he could die a happy man. 
It took you all of two minutes to reach your peak like that, clit bullied and filled with his fingers. Once you had begun to come down, he was quick to pull his hand away from you and focus on prying your thighs apart again. The sticky sound of your thighs opening up was music to his ears and he lined himself up to your entrance. You were still a little sensitive from your first orgasm and the feeling of him spearing through you made you convulse. You dug your nails into his shoulders and cried out but he had already covered your mouth with his hand. He pressed in until your hips met and his pelvis squished your clit through your folds. He took a moment to breathe heavily against your neck, adjusted himself slightly, and keeping his hand over your mouth, began to thrust into you. You bit into his palm but he only grunted and kept on, slamming into you over and over. You were jelly, you were a hot melted pool of pleasure, ready to be used for whatever he desired. Your legs felt like they were being zapped with electricity and your arms were so tight that they might fall off if you let go of Emmett. 
The pleasure began to climb, and you could feel it building in your stomach. The tingles sped up, and the pressure increased until you were clenching down on him over and over again. His pace faltered at the feeling but he was quick to get back at it. He reached down to press harshly at your clit but it was too harsh at first and you jolted away from him with a yelp. He shushed you and gently began rubbing it in circles and you came all over him. The tightening from your orgasm triggered his own and he pushed inside you fully and began twitching, grunting like a wild beast into your shoulder. He had bit down onto the flesh and you could still feel his teeth there even when he pulled away to begin kissing you. 
Both of you lay there for a while, just feeling everything in your bodies. Once the sweat had cooled on your skin, you turned over and whispered into Emmet’s ear, “I love you.” 
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And when Evelyn Abbott and her family came falling into Emmett’s little sanctuary, what they weren’t expecting to encounter was a pregnant young lady with him.
261 notes · View notes
pedropascallme · 3 months
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People Worth Saving
Pairing: Emmett x f!Reader
Summary: "You bit the bullet and wandered closer to the dome, quiet footsteps aided by your worn-down sneakers and a strong will to find some security in this new space. Before you managed to lean down, to open the hatch and slide down into the waiting abyss below, something grabbed your jacket and pulled you back. The urge to cry out was tamped down by your will to live, and by the hand that quickly covered your mouth."
Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) age gap (reader is 19-20), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), mentions of death, child loss, general Quiet Place II angst, you know the drill, etc, etc. If I missed anything please let me know!
You had distant memories about your childhood, and the hammock that your father set up in the front yard between the two tall trees that had been there longer than the neighborhood had. He had gotten lazy, setting it up one summer and then never taking it down; it sat through sleet and snow and sunshine in the same spot.
Even if it got wet, you didn’t mind. You loved that hammock.
You realized early on that if you swung your legs over the side and swayed back and forth, you could use it as a swing. Pumping your legs hard and building up momentum only to leap off at the last second and fall in a heap at the end of the lawn. It drove your mother crazy with worry about skinned knees and concussions, but you were so full of joy in the moments of adrenaline leading up to the landing.
In the fall, when the leaves changed and fell and the trees became dormant, your father brought out the rake to clear the driveway and the path to the stairs. He piled the leaves high, and you always managed to completely destroy his hard work; swinging in the hammock and launching yourself into the dry, dead leaves, you created an explosion of autumn colors around yourself, feeling the solid crunch under your body. You’d laugh and laugh, and when your father had seen what you’d done, he would laugh, too, raking the leaves back up to repeat the cycle again.
You didn’t even care that for the rest of the day you found small twigs in your Pippy Longstocking-style braids, or that the leaves made your clothes smell musty until your mother threw them in the wash. You were too young to care about anything but having fun.
Now dry leaves terrified you.
Walking through the field felt like a death sentence, and every step you took was carefully calculated to avoid detection. Your heel would land softly in a patch of dirt, then your opposite foot would land sideways on the grass surrounding an obvious booby trap. You had no idea if it was still operating, if whoever had put it there was still checking it or if they were even still alive, but you didn't want to test any theories.
You longed to crunch the leaves under your feet, to feel the simmering nostalgia under your skin come to a boil and create your own pile to jump into—to feel free again from the burden of the world and of survival.
You made it to the entrance, concrete and dry, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Though the building was huge and likely easy to hide in, and the interior was empty enough to create a dull echo with every step, you still found solace in solid footing. Part of you wanted to scream out a greeting, to see if anybody would reveal themselves—perhaps the creator of the traps outside, or someone who had found said creator and done to them what most people do now when they come across an unsuspecting second party.
Screaming was off the table, for obvious reasons, but that didn’t stop the voice in your head from repeating hello? Over and over until you couldn’t remember if you had said it out loud or not.
You took several light steps to explore your surroundings. It had been a factory, maybe, or a foundry; it was mostly machinery and empty space, but you could imagine the people that must have once taken up space on the now-empty floor around the large pillars and appliances.
You couldn’t imagine that many of them were still breathing.
There was a dome shaped trap door on the far end of the building, and you felt the urge to explore further; it had been too long since you’d been able to rest in a sturdy, isolated place, and the itch to know what was behind the hatch made you feel unreasonably confident in finding safety with whatever it was. A bed, maybe. Something soft and warm and capable of helping you forget the constant state of fear you lived in.
You bit the bullet and wandered closer to the dome, quiet footsteps aided by your worn-down sneakers and a strong will to find some security in this new space. Before you managed to lean down, to open the hatch and slide down into the waiting abyss below, something grabbed your jacket and pulled you back. The urge to cry out was tamped down by your will to live, and by the hand that quickly covered your mouth.
You breathed heavily into the warm hand that now sat on your lips. The other hand of the person who now held you captive tightened around the base of your jacket, pulling you further from the promise of any dream you had created that lay beyond the underside of the trap door. You couldn’t turn your head, relying now on your eyes quickly darting side to side, trying to use your peripheral to catch a glimpse of whoever the hands connected to.
“No.”
It was a man’s voice, shaky and frightened but clearly attempting to reprimand you. You kept breathing, trying to find a way out of the situation, or at the very least a way out of your current position. You slowed your breathing, trying to still your body, making yourself malleable and light in his hands so that he assumed you would submit. You felt his hand loosen its grip on the fabric around your back, and in the same moment you swung your leg back, digging your heel into his shin as best you could from the angle before stomping on his foot when your leg came down.
His hands flew to his face, covering his own mouth in an attempt to silence his yelp at the sudden pain in his leg. You turned around, grabbing his wrists limply and forcing your fingers into his short hair to pull him down to you. You saw him wince under the handkerchief he wore across the bottom half of his face, bright blue eyes, worn down and tired, narrowing at you. You stared at each other until he gathered his bearings, straightening his legs and overcoming the pain you had caused him.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You whispered as menacingly as you could, refusing to become a shrinking violet in the presence of this stranger after everything you had gone through. He moved his hands slightly, as if to shrug, before you realized you had him trapped with his palms over his face and thus left him unable to speak. You dropped his wrists, and his arms fell to his sides, but you kept a vice-grip on his scalp.
“Get out.” He kept his sentences short, you noticed from the three words he had spoken, and you understood why.
“Why?” You weren’t going to make this easy for him.
“You can’t stay here.” Four words. New record.
“Why?” You pressed, bothered that he seemed to think he had a right to the entirety of the building despite its size.
“It’s mine.”
“Don’t see your name on it.” He rolled his eyes at you, and you tightened your grip on his hair, earning another pained look from him. “And you don’t seem to be in any position to be giving orders.”
“Took me by surprise.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” You were dry, not wanting to give in to any banter he might try to pry from you. “Look, I haven’t eaten in two days, haven’t slept in three, and I don’t think either of us wants to make a scene given the current climate,” you nodded your head toward the door, implying that you’d leave him for the wolves if you had the chance. “Let me stay. One night. Then…”
“One.” He repeated, not bothering to acknowledge your sob story or the implication that this would be a fight for later. “Can you let go of me now?” You let go of him, pushing his head slightly as you loosened your fist. He straightened to his full height and rounded you. “Were you followed?”
“If I was, we’d be dead by now.”
“By people?”
“If I was, we'd be dead by now.” You persisted.
He let out a long exhale before nodding, bending to open the hatch and offering a hand to help you into the room below. “Ladies first.”
You exhaled sharply, biting your cheeks, and grabbing his outstretched hand before lowering yourself into the fluorescent lighting that awaited you. You retracted your hand as soon as you made it down one rung of the ladder.
It was small. Not small—it was actually bigger than most rooms you’d slept in for the past few months, but it was built like a classroom; high ceilings and minimal furniture, the lights flickered above you and you jumped when you heard the hatch close with a loud creak and crash.
“S’alright,” the man dusted his hands off on his jeans, “can’t hear us down here.”
There was a tunnel built into the wall, and you noticed a rag tied to the handle.
“What’s this?” You fiddled with the fabric before he came over to brush you off of it.
“Even quieter in there.”
“How’d you figure that out?”
“Trial and error.” He said simply before turning his back to you and slumping into the couch that lay in the middle of the room. He removed his handkerchief, sharp features only slightly hidden now by his unkept beard.
You wandered around, taking in the meager furnishings and the machinery. You had no idea what this room was meant to be in the building’s prime—maybe some sort of safe room, some sort of storage area. Who cared, really; now it was just another waste of perfectly good silence.
“So,” you started, still speaking softly out of habit and mild distrust, “are you going to, uh, get me to let down my guard? Kill me in my sleep?” You picked at the paint that was peeling off the wall.
“Not as long as you’re out by tomorrow,” he almost smiled, “and for the record, I’d only kill you if you were awake. Only fair that you see it coming, at least.”
“Cute,” you huffed, “And now that I’m down here what makes you so certain I’ll leave?” You were testing him, trying to see if there was any truth at all to what he was saying. He didn’t look like a killer, granted neither did you before day one; he was tall, compared to you, at least, and lanky. He clearly hadn’t had access to a razor since he’d been down here. He folded his arms where he sat on the couch, pleasant-ish small talk paired with closed off body language. You couldn’t see any weapons within arm’s reach, and if you had to guess you would say he only learned how to use whatever gun that he owned—if he owned one—when everything went to hell.
“Guess I’ll leave it up to trial and error again.” You liked his eyes, you decided, and the way the blue of his irises was so pronounced against his pale skin and brown hair. Maybe you even thought he was handsome, and if the circumstances were different, you might let him buy you a drink and see where it took you. You kept walking in circles around the room in silence, figuring that if he had anything worth saying he would come out and say it.
You stopped at a small table, something your mother would’ve gawked at in an IKEA as if she would actually ever buy it after looking at the price tag. There were pictures, hand drawn sketches and scribbles and faces in black and white. Some of them had color, faded, and worn by time, but still clear as day in the part of your brain that bothered to register the details.
“These are nice,” you were first to speak again, “you draw them?”
“No…” he looked like he was struggling to find the words to say what he wanted to, “My—my wife…” He trailed off, and you knew immediately that she was no longer in the picture, whether it had been before or after the invasion. Still, you felt a twang of disappointment; maybe for him, for his lonesomeness—or maybe for you, for your own.
You picked up a sketch that looked to be of two young boys, and even on the washed-out paper they looked like the man behind you. You turned, paper in hand, unsure of whether you wanted to speak to him about it, dredge up his memories.
But what's a little friendly conversation between new anti-companions?
“Yours?” You leaned over the back of the couch, holding the sketch in front of you so he could see what you were talking about. He reached for it, and you noticed a slight tremor in his hand before he took the paper from you.
“Yes,” he breathed, “yeah.”
“Look like you.”
“Better looking kids than I ever was,” he chuckled, low and solemn, “better behaved, too.” You watched on as he studied the picture, before he stood up and placed it back on the table behind the couch. “I was—um…y’ever seen the movie The Mist?”
“Yeah…” You wondered what exactly he could be building up to.
“When they—my sons—they…the first day…" You could feel his breath, not because of proximity, but because you knew the same pain. "And I was so, so scared that I would wake up on day two to find that everything had returned to normal, and everything was going to be ok, but they would still be…like at the end of that movie.” He folded his arms again, “but now I, I mean this is—god, I guess I’ve never said it out loud, uh…maybe…it’s good they didn’t have to see…this.”
You nodded, remembering how that movie ended; your parents had let you watch it, not knowing what it was about. You had nightmares any time it got foggy until you were ten or eleven. “Yeah,” you looked at him, making eye contact for a solid few seconds before averting your gaze. “I—my parents, and…my brother…” you didn’t know how to phrase it, feeling as though he had already said it all, “I get it.”
You didn’t tell him you had turned 19 in the week leading up to doomsday, that you had been sitting on the hammock that shaped your childhood and thinking about the joy of being small enough to jump into the leaf pile your dad was raking when you saw the first meteor strike town, or that the last words your mother screamed were “I’m sorry.”
It just didn’t seem right; sometimes grief is better explained through the silences.
“I’m Emmett,” he broke you from your thoughts, “And I’m…sorry for—if I scared you. Up there.”
You said your name, realizing it was the first time you had introduced yourself to anybody in over a year. You reached out your hand and he took it in a firm shake. “Pleasure.”
He smiled, a genuine, full smile this time. You decided it suited him well.
“You sleep on the couch?” You broke free from the way he was analyzing your features, trying not to focus on what he might think of them.
“Usually, yeah,” he leaned against the arm of the sofa, “but I’d be ok to sleep on the floor if you want.”
“No—that’s nice, but no, you don’t have to.” You hoped he saw through your lie, how desperately you wanted to rest on something soft. “I’m only here for the night, anyway, remember? Don’t want to…shouldn’t get too comfortable.”
“You can…” Emmett looked at you, then over his shoulder toward the couch, “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his forehead, lifting his messy hair before trailing down to stroke his beard, “you can stay, I just—can’t be too careful, you know? And I didn’t, I was worried you were—”
“Gonna kill you?” You smirked, and he smiled again.
“A little, yeah.” He looked at you, and you realized how close you’d gotten to him over the course of your conversation, “Stay as long as you want.”
“Does this mean I get the couch?”
“I think that’s fair.” He moved, grabbing several pillows from the couch, and dropping them on the floor underneath it; his makeshift bed would, at least, be mildly comfortable if he could help it. “You got here when the sun was setting, I’ve been up since it rose,” he sat amongst the pillows, trying to lay them out in a manner suitable for him to rest on, “So, if you don’t mind, I’m about ready to get some sleep.”
You nodded, dropping yourself onto the couch and grabbing the thin blanket draped over one of the cushions; it was threadbare, and fraying, but you didn’t care—too focused on the fact that you’d be able to sleep in a quiet, comfortable spot. You watched Emmett flick a switch in the corner of the room before he returned to his mess of pillows, and the lights dimmed. If you squeezed your eyes shut you felt like you might be able to hear your parents watching television in the other room, like you were in your own bedroom eavesdropping on their hushed conversations; safe, known.
But it wasn’t any of that—not really. In the back of your mind, you worried about the lack of exits in the room, the fact that you still didn’t know whether or not Emmett had a weapon, the looming threat that remained just above you. You looked at the ceiling when you opened your eyes, wondering if anything had followed you, wondering if they would figure out how to unscrew the hatch and find you in this echo chamber of a building.
“Emmett,” you managed to whisper through your anxieties, “Are you awake?”
“It’s been five minutes,” he sounded tired, and you realized that the dryness of his voice wasn’t due to any disinterest in you, but lack of use. “I’m still awake.”
“How do you know this is safe?” You picked a loose thread from the blanket and watched it unwind in your hands.
“It’s safe.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
You tried to drop it after that, ignoring the fears that you carried with you from past encounters where you were assured of your safety, only to wake up and find that you had to keep running. “And they can’t hear us?”
So much for dropping it.
“They can’t hear us.” You heard him turn over on the floor, and you shifted to face him. Even in the darkness, his eyes were piercing, and you had no trouble finding them with your own. “I’m certain. I promise.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be,” he shook his head, “only fair to be nervous.”
You nodded, lying back down, and pulling the blanket to your chin. It didn’t really do anything, and the chill of the room seeped into you even after you shifted to make yourself more comfortable. Maybe it was because you kept moving, or maybe he felt it too, but Emmett addressed you again.
“Cold?”
“Yeah,” you didn’t bother hiding it. Once the world went to shit there was no real reason to keep up the niceties of denying discomfort to your host. At sleepovers hosted by your friends, you would’ve said no, I’m perfectly comfortable, and breathed into your hands until the sun rose, and your mother picked you up with a sweatshirt and a bagel fresh from the toaster. Now? Fuck it.
“Would’ve been warmer in here when the building was still in use,” he began to ramble, and you thought it was so dad of him to feel the need to explain the history of the building you slept in when all you really wanted was some comfort, “machines and bodies moving, and, I mean, the heat generated from these things would’ve been crazy.”
“Emmett,” you cut his monologue short, your face peering over the couch cushions and down at him, “are there more blankets?”
“No…” He seemed embarrassed, almost like he was worried he was disappointing you.
“Are you cold?”
“Not really.” He closed his eyes.
“Emmett.”
“A little.” He sighed; his eyes opened again.
You sat up and patted the couch, unsure of why exactly this was the solution you had landed on, but feeling like it was worth a shot. “Come.”
“Are you sure?” He hardly seemed hesitant, moving to join you almost immediately, but still trying to gage whether or not it was an empty offer.
You nodded, moving to make room for him behind you. When he first settled onto the couch, you recognized that this was the first time in ages that anybody had touched you—that anybody had come close to you. Heat radiated off of his clothed body and you couldn’t help but inch closer to him, bodies tangling together on the small sofa, trying to find peace. You wondered if he felt the same catharsis that came with sharing a sleeping space; if he was just as in awe as you were at how perfectly your bodies seemed to fit together, curving to appeal to the needs of each other and your individual comfort. Emmett’s arm draped over your abdomen, his hand brushing the hem of your shirt, and you sighed, unable to hide your content at the feeling of him shielding you from the wider world.
“When was the last time you…” you whispered, trailing off when you realized how awkward the question would sound.
“Hm?” His response was muffled, his face all but buried in your hair.
“When was the last time you touched somebody?” You but the bullet.
“I…must be months, now.” He didn’t think too long about it, “What about you?”
You turned in his arms, careful to not disturb the cushions too much under your weight. You were face to face with him now, with little room to do anything but breathe. “I don’t remember.”
You didn’t mean it in any sexual sense; really you were just curious as to how much physical affection anybody was getting given the current state of things; how long had it been since any two people had the time to just hold hands? And really enjoy the touch and weight of the other’s hand in their own, fingers interlocked? But deep down you knew there was an implication to your words, a desperate implication that you hoped he would pick up on, and that, if he did, he would understand your want, and fulfill it wholeheartedly.
Emmett’s hand strayed from your waist to brush your cheek, the back of two fingers caressing your skin, and your patience broke; you held his wrist with both hands, a parallel to the way you had trapped him earlier when you considered him a threat, and lowered it to your lips. You could feel the callouses he had built up, the roughness of his palm versus the soft skin of the back of his hand. You gave each finger a delicate kiss, waiting for him to break away, waiting for him to move back to the floor and tell you that you absolutely had to leave tomorrow, to hell with what he had said earlier.
But he didn’t.
He watched, transfixed, as you slid one finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip and releasing it with a quiet pop. You let go of his wrist, and looked up at him with hooded eyes, half-expecting a look of disgust.
His mouth was open just enough to see the edges of his top teeth, eyes focused on your lips, and you felt that his breathing had picked up, though that could have been a trick of the surrounding quiet.
“You like that?” No, he was definitely breathing harder. You could hear it in his words.
“Yeah,” you sighed, relieved by his words, the bright eyes staring back at you in the dark room seemed entirely untroubled with your actions, “Do you?”
“Yeah.” His fingers moved to trace the shape of your face before landing on your chin, lifting you slightly higher to allow him access.
No time was wasted in the moments that followed; his mouth attached to yours in one natural movement, and he immediately granted your tongue access to him when you began licking gently at his lower lip. You felt spit and teeth, and you could hear your heart in your ears, its rhythm in your face as he nipped gently at you, your lips getting puffy from use.
Arms wrapped around your waist again, this time to haul you up and over Emmett’s body, his motion encouraging you to straddle his waist. You planted your hands on his chest before reconnecting your lips to him, determined to explore every inch he offered you from your new vantage point. His t-shirt, stretched and worn, exposed a sliver of his chest, and you were quick to suck marks onto his collar bones and just below them. He groaned at the contact, hands traveling lower down your body in order to undo your jeans.
“Work with me baby, c’mon,” Emmett clumsily undid your fly as you licked over any skin you could reach. He pulled at your hair to bring your line of sight to his, and the stinging pressure on your scalp made you moan, “Help me out here, I’ll give you what you want.”
You straightened out above him, grinding your hips into his as you stripped down; jacket, shirt, and jeans following once you had made enough room for yourself to remove them. You returned to your rightful place on his lap, continuing to grind down onto him to relieve the building ache in your core. The friction he gave you was just right, and it helped to hear him groan when you dragged your hips up and down at just the right pace, his cock twitching in his pants at the weight and the angle.
His hands came up to paw at your chest, squeezing the tender skin before leaning forward to wrap his lips around your nipple. Your back arched, and you could only guess how pathetic it looked, coming so undone, so easily, for a man you had just met, clearly more than ten years your senior.
It was desperate and needy, and you didn’t care; you deserved this. Both of you deserved this.
You felt teeth brush against your pebbled skin, making you grind down harder atop him, letting the tip of his clothed cock catch your naked cunt and relishing in the sensation. He removed his mouth from your nipple, pulling you down to him to reconnect your mouths and give you a deliberately sloppy kiss full of tongue.
“Off,” you pleaded between gasps of air, fingers skimming the edge of his pants, “Take them off.”
Emmett huffed, and you sat back on your knees, giving him the space to sit up and remove his shirt, before he stood to take off his jeans. You waited for him to rejoin you on the couch, to continue what he had started there, but he kneeled in front of you instead, pulling you legs apart and holding them wide open.
“God,” one of his hands fell forward, gently placed low on your stomach, his thumb toying with your swollen clit and puffy lips, “Fuck.”
He dove into you, mouth open and wanting; you felt him come into contact with your hole and you jumped, head back and eyes closed as genuine pleasure washed over you. You placed a hand on the back of his neck to stabilize yourself as he began to fuck you with his tongue. The muscle lapped up your slick, pushing back into you, and repeating the process, his thumb still massaging your clit.
“Yeah, like that,” you whimpered, back arching off the couch. The hand still on your thigh ensuring that your legs would stay open for him reached up to squeeze one of your nipples; it was rough, and all the movement and friction he was giving you was utterly relentless. The overstimulation left you reeling, and you put your own fingers in your mouth to muffle the screams you wished you could let him hear. “Just like that, Emmett.”
You felt yourself teetering on the edge, one breath and you were a goner, bound to free-fall.
"I feel you," he let a trail of spit fall over your cunt, and when he spoke you could feel the prickly hair of his beard against your thighs, "squeezing me so tight—cum for me, baby, c'mon."
He sped up his movements on your clit ever so slightly, and you felt your legs begin to tremble, body light and head full of stars. You came with ease, the most relaxed you’ve felt in ages was with Emmett’s face buried in your cunt, lapping up what dripped from you like it was his only water source.
You nearly had to pry him off of you, fist in his hair while you came to from your high as he continued to enjoy himself vicariously through your pleasure.
“Come,” you steadied your breathing, “come here.” And he listened, but not before allowing himself a final taste, dipping his tongue into your center, rising to meet you face-to-face in another deep kiss. You could taste the sweet tang of your cum on his tongue, and it only drove you further into the fucked-out fugue state you were experiencing; you gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer and moaning into his mouth.
There was no rush, no bell to beat or timeframe to fit into, but you wanted so badly to see him come undone for you; you raised yourself up on your knees, and you felt them dig into the couch, the pattern of the fabric marking your skin as you pushed Emmett down. He sat, beckoning you to straddle him. You felt a shred of embarrassment, clambering to position yourself on top of him, an awkward feeling you hadn’t felt since high school, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered right now except him.
“Slow,” you finally settled, feeling his length brush against you from below, and with your head resting against his shoulder you could feel your own breath rebound against your nose. “Need you to go slow.”
“I know, baby,” he cooed, reaching down to fist his cock and line himself up with your entrance, “Don’t worry, I got you.”
You began to lower yourself, the feeling of his swollen head nudging your hole made you suck in a sharp breath; you bent your legs further, taking more of him, letting him fill you completely on your own terms, and he guided you every step of the way with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, breathing hard against the crown of your head.
Maybe it was because of the tension, or because you so craved the connection—to hear him respond to you and what you alone were doing—but you dropped down quickly on the last few inches, feeling him deep and rough against your cervix, earning a choked groan from Emmett in your ear.
“Fuck, good, baby, that’s right.” You preened at his words, holding your position for a while longer to get accustomed to the stretch you felt before finally raising yourself up slightly just to inch back down his shaft again.
You felt full, stretched out and used—but in a way that was so positively welcomed; it had been too long since you were able to enjoy yourself in any capacity, but this act was certainly the most fun.
“Feel good? Like riding me like this?” Emmett tilted his head back, grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you from the crook of his neck. You stared at him, and he at you, hellbent on watching as you liberated yourself from the nerves and anxieties of the world around you—he craved your bliss as much as you did.
“Yes,” you squeaked, still bouncing on his cock, legs getting sore at the exertion in such a tight space, “So fucking good, Emmett.”
He moaned, eyes fluttering closed and hands moving to grip your ass. You could feel his blunt nails dig into your skin, and you expected—hoped—that there would be bruises to show for it tomorrow.
“Getting tired?” He whispered when he noticed the short breaks you took between moving up and down on his cock to simply grind down onto him, moving your legs around his chest awkwardly in an attempt to shift your weight. You nodded, thighs burning from exertion, and he sat up, kissing your forehead before lifting you gently off of him and moving you to lie back on the couch. Emmett took his time crawling over you; he kissed your thighs, your stomach, the space between the plush skin of your breasts, before finally he had you completely engulfed underneath him, giving you soft kisses as he slid himself back into your warmth. You lifted your hips to meet him, moaning at how he fit with you, how you could memorize every ridge and vein of him like this.
And then he started really moving.
You felt him pull out, the slight pressure of the tip of his cock pressed gently against your entrance, taunting you, before he slammed himself back into your waiting cunt. It was deep, and rough, and you clawed at his bicep to ground yourself to him.
Emmett let out deep moans, forehead pressed against yours while he drove his cock as far into you as he could, and your logical side went completely out the window; you whined, yelped at the pleasure coursing through you, mewled for him louder than you should have, but neither of you seemed to care.
“That’s right,” he closed his eyes, focusing every part of himself on you, “give me another one, let me feel you.” His fingers latched onto your clit, watching intently at the way your face contorted at the friction combined with the feeling of his cock inside of you. He drew tight circles over the bud, letting you buck your hips up into him to signify how much pressure you needed at a given moment.
“Gonna—I’m gonna cum,” you whispered, then, louder, “Emmett, I’m gonna fucking cum.”
He didn’t say anything, just applied more pressure to your clit and gave you longer, slower thrusts. He watched as you began to tremble, your mouth falling open with small whines of his name. He sat up, cock still buried in your heat, thrusts slowing as you opened your eyes to the white-hot satisfaction of your orgasm. Overstimulated didn’t begin to cover it, but you didn’t want this to end.
His thrusts were getting sloppier, not in the sense that you could feel his rhythm falter, but his hips stuttered slightly every time he was fully sheathed in you, and you could tell he was holding back, trying to make this more about you than about his own release.
You pulled him down, nuzzling his neck and placing sloppy kisses on his pulse point as you whispered to him: “Want you to cum,” your lips grazed the shell of his ear, “Please, Emmett.”
You were proud that it seemed to only take your pleading whispers for him to lose himself to the finish he longed for; his hips snapped rough against you, and you could feel his chest heave against your own when he allowed himself one more moment inside of you before pulling out to finish in his fist.
His cum was warm, a perfect contrast to the sweat cooling on your skin, and his growl of your name was music to your ears. He fell forward, head cushioned by your breasts while you both focused on your breathing. Your fingers found the hair on the nape of his neck, thumb brushing the part of his beard that curved just under his ear.
You were in the perfect space between tired and satisfied.
“Thank you,” Emmett murmured into your skin, punctuating his words with soft kisses.
“Thank you,” you echoed, unsure of what to say now that the heat of the moment had passed. “I…I needed that.” You paused, “I liked that.”
“Me too,” he whispered.
“I don’t want it—I don’t want this to be the only time.” You felt immature for some reason, all but begging for this to happen again when you didn’t even know if you’d see next week.
“Doesn’t have to be,” he whispered, “we don’t have to leave,” he looked up at you, tracing your features with his eyes, “You don’t ever have to leave.”
You grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. He squeezed it back.
You fell asleep without a care, thrilled to be in the position you were in, in every sense of the word; Emmett stayed on your chest, the weight of his body on yours only adding to the reassurance and calm you felt.
You had a dream that you raked your own pile of leaves, and jumped into them.
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salbei-141 · 1 year
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A second chance (Emmett x reader)
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Masterlist
Part 2 (Good girl, stay quiet for me)
word count: 2.7k 
warnings: 18+ age gap (reader is early 20s and Emmett is late 30s), eventual smut in part 2, angst, cult like stuff, allusion/mentioning of sexual assault, death, etc. 
a/n: I watched ‘A Quiet Place II’ recently and I’m feral for Emmett y’all, they knew what they were doing when they casted Cillian Murphy. John Krasinski doing God’s work.
Seeing as I feel like I have an issue of rambling to fit description in, I’m making this 2 parts instead of like a 6k one-shot - don’t hate me lol
Enjoy my loves
:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You’d come across Emmett a few weeks ago now - you think. There was no real way to tell time anymore; the clock on your watch still ticked, but you’d lost count of the days long ago now.
You were on the run when you had come across Emmett’s safe place - you had been with a group - only for about 2 weeks - before you realised you needed an out, and you needed one quick; it was a shame because they’d managed to find a fairly soundproof bunker - you thought you were safe. With that, you spent the next few nights sneaking about different storage rooms and searching duffle bags, until you had enough gear to survive and run someplace else. It had been a week in this new group when you started to hear quiet whispers between its people - you couldn’t quite make out what they had been saying, but the looks you’d receive from people were enough to tell you whatever was being whispered was about you. One night, you had needed to go to their makeshift bathroom - it was risky, but you couldn’t wait. On your way you could hear quiet murmurings amongst 2 people - it was the guy who had found you - Alec you think his name was and their leader if you’d call him that - James.
“We need to initiate her soon James, it's almost been a week - you told me to go find a girl, bring her back, and we’d initiate her.” your heart paused, and there was a dull ringing in your ears - what the fuck were they talking about?
“You better keep that mouth shut of yours, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that”, James’ voice had venom seeping through each word he enunciated - he had spoken so gently to you on your arrival, something was off, and you felt your gut twisting with anxiety.
“Sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” you could hear the tremble in Alec’s voice - he was scared, and it didn’t comfort you one bit.
“Look, we need another week, and then we will proceed with the initiation...we must follow the guidelines of the holy one Alec - she’s young and will be ready to take you when we are given guidance for you to do so. This cannot be rushed Alec boy, do you understand?” You had no clue what James was talking about, but it wasn’t hard to piece things together you were in the middle of some sort of religious cult, and you were chosen for some sick ‘initiation’ that you weren’t going to allow yourself to be apart of even if it meant you had to die.
“Yes Sir.” Alec had replied meekly.
Scuttling back to your bed, careful to make no sound as you heard the two men shuffling about, you ignored the need to empty your bladder and squeezed your eyes shut hoping no one had seen you.
Since that night you had noticed people were becoming more handsy with you, acting like they had a familial connection with you. Over the next week, you’d listen into conversations when you could, trying to figure out when the ‘initiation’ was. When you heard it was going to be at the end of the week, you had to make a guess as they had a single calendar in James’ office that you couldn’t enter. From the night you heard this, you had decided upon leaving the next coming night just to be safe - you had collected enough belongings and hid them outside in a bush one night when everyone was sleeping.  
It was the night, and you were trying your best to not appear jittery, but the reality was you were scared - you knew the moment these aliens or whatever the fuck they were invaded that the most primitive sides of people were going to be revealed - it was the sad reality of human nature. Going through the day with no issue, you were eventually sat eating some soup like everyone else in silence as usual - you had tried making conversation the day you got here and was immediately reprimanded - that should’ve been your first warning sign.
With the sun set and everyone in their makeshift beds, you lay upon your own, waiting to hear the quiet snores and breaths of everyone around you. You were probably waiting for around 2 hours before you decided you were safe. Since surviving for as long as you had, you’d become an expert at sneaking around, making no noise. Walking out of the room as you had done on several nights, you came to a set of stairs in the bunker and made your way up them, making no noise. Then came the door - it had been recently sprayed to loosen the hinges for when the men would go on runs, so it was an easy process too. Pushing it open, you were met with a harsh breeze of fresh air. Closing the door behind you, you crept to a bush in the far corner by a densely populated area of trees. Leaning down, you were careful putting the backpack on your shoulders. With a success, you took a hunting rifle you had stolen from the floor, hooked it on your right shoulder and made it through the trees.
Your heart dropped instantly - you were barely 5 minutes in and you found yourself on all fours, having tripped on a wire. The bastards, they’d set them up around the bunker - you felt stupid to have not thought about this, but you needed to pick yourself up and run as a shrill sound started to ring all around you. Suddenly you heard the door of the bunker crash open and there was shouting - they knew it was you, but you didn’t care - you could only think about running, your ears were concentrating on the beating of your heart as adrenaline pumped through your body - you couldn’t hear anything around you. That was until you heard it screech - was this it for you? Pushing your legs faster you heard as guns were shot - maybe or maybe not successfully killing those things, you didn’t care to turn around and look. Continuing to run as footsteps were gaining on you, you came across a train track and followed it up, noticing several large decrepit buildings - this could be your chance to escape them, and you were taking it.
Noticing a hole in a wire fence, you pushed your way through, not caring enough about the rattling of the metal as you went through. Unknown to you, there was a trap set up, similar to the one outside the bunker, and you yet again found yourself tripping over some wire, causing a clashing of metal bottles to go off. There it was again. The fucking screeches of those creatures. Picking your tired body back up, you made a beeline to the first building you could see. Halfway there though, you heard the metal rattle of the fence, turning you made eye contact with Alec.
“y/n get back here right now damn it! You ungrateful bitch, we were going to give you a good life you know!” he was screaming over the sound of the creatures and gunshots that were much further away - you were convinced they were going to attract every single one of them things in the country to your location.
Another screech sounded to your left, causing both you and Alec to turn. Without wasting any more time, you continued to the building with Alec hot on your heels.
“y/n I’m not -” Before the man could continue with his pathetic sentence, you heard a scream come from his mouth. You couldn’t find it in you to feel guilt, you were almost happy the thing had gotten him - you felt disgusted at the fact you believed he deserved it, but that was just the way of this new world. 
Getting into the building, still hearing Alec’s screams, you were praying it’d be enough for the creature to not follow you. Just as you were about to press your back against the wall, you felt a hand cover your mouth, and an arm trap you against someone’s chest. Fear shot through you again - they’d got you, they’d won in the end, of course they’d have. However, a new unfamiliar voice hit your ears as you squirmed in the foreign pair of arms, “Shush, follow me”.
Calming your movements, but still on guard, you turned to meet the eyes of this man - they looked tired, and kind almost, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to let your guard down. Watching as he quietly jogged through the building, you decided to follow him as he said to - you didn’t feel like you had much choice - it was either you follow him or you had a worse fate with the other surviving men of the cult, or the creatures.
Darting between metal barrels and concrete slabs, you came up to a drop - watching as the man jumped into the large pipe, you made no hesitation to follow suit. Landing on some broken sandbags, you weren’t given the chance to admire the room as you heard another screech emitted within the building. The man opened what looked like a vault of sorts and waited for you to jump in - it looked cramp, but again what choice did you have right now? Jumping in, the man followed and shut the door. The both of you were sat panting, heart rates accelerated at an unhealthy speed. As you watched the man open his mouth, your eyes immediately went wide - there was no way he was about to compromise the both of you after all of that.
“Don’t worry they can’t hear us down here.” his voice was muffled behind the mask he wore, but you heard.
Instead of replying, you looked straight in front of you at the wall, thinking about the last few events - still trying to catch your breath.
Hearing a beep, your head snapped up - you looked like a deer caught in headlights - every minor sound had you on edge. Watching the man stop it, he went to open the container, but not before you reached for his arm, “What the fuck are you doing?”, you shot him an incredulous look at his actions.
“We’ll be fine now, and if I keep it shut any longer we’re dead - it’s shut airtight in here.”, he continued to open the vault again as your arm came back to your side.
Your heartbeat still hadn’t calmed down, and you could feel the palpitations of it as the man exited the container. But nothing happened - he was walking about his room with ease - he looked relaxed. Taking a deep breath, you walked out too, standing still when you made contact with the concrete floor - you were safe.
“We can talk down here too, but only in whispers” You nodded in his direction, almost not catching quite what he had said.
Watching as he sat at a desk covered in drawings, you took the liberty to take the other seat further from him, but still close enough. You couldn’t bring yourself to take your eyes off him, and he must’ve known because he turned around looking you dead in the eye. Taking the mask that covered his features off, you felt yourself stop breathing - he was attractive, as attractive as a man could be considering the conditions everyone was currently in.
“So what was that out there?” he asked nonchalantly, leaning back against the desk, and spreading his legs.
“I was running.” your voice was much quieter than was necessary, almost impossible to hear, and your eyes glossed over - now that you really had the time to think things through, you realised just how dire of a situation you had been in, and how different things could’ve been.
“I see. They ain’t gonna come back here are they?” you couldn’t blame him for putting his own safety first - you were an intruder to him, and he had every right to worry.
“I don’t think so.” you inhaled deeply, musting up the courage you explain the situation, so he’d understand - you were worried he’d make you leave soon. “I think they were some sort of cult...they uh wanted me to uh go through with this initiation thing. I think they were going to do something to me...mentioned about how I was ‘young’ and uh ‘ready to take’ one of the guys.” you were playing with the slightly calloused skin on your hands, fearing his response.
“I’m Emmett.” is all he said...was that a good sign?
“Oh, uh I’m y/n.” you gave him one of those awkward smiles you’d offer to people you’d pass on the street.
You were just sat staring at each other - neither knowing quite how to interact with the other - you were 2 introverts in a room, and you weren’t going to be the first to speak up again.
After a few minutes of intensely holding each other’s gaze, you looked back down at your hands just as he spoke up again, “You been by yourself this whole time then?”, he was trying to understand how you’d gone for as long as you had out there - you didn’t look too old, so you must’ve had people before this group surely.
“uh I was with that group for about 2 weeks I think, then before them I...” your head started buzzing at the memories - what was going on? All you were envisioning was the death of your dad - neither your mum nor brother had even made it out of the house with a fighting chance. You remembered how your dad had stupidly dropped a bullet on the floor, you’d thought you were both okay - it was a silly mistake, and it wasn’t too loud. But you were wrong, so so wrong. You watched as a creature had jumped your dad and ripped him limb from limb as you stood in shock - hearing him scream out in pain between attempting to tell you to run, but all you could do was watch as the thing killed the last remaining person you knew.
Emmett furrowed his brows at your sudden silence, you look dazed. As he placed a cautious hand on your shoulder, he watched as you flinched at his touch - he felt a sudden surge of guilt, giving you a sorry look.
“uh sorry, was just thinking. I was with my dad before the group...he’s gone now.” you looked into his eyes, seeing the empathy he shared with you - he’d lost people too, you could tell. You wondered if that’s who the drawings were of.
“I...” He didn’t really have anything to say - a sorry wouldn’t fix things, wouldn’t make you feel better, so he chose to stay silent instead. He could tell you weren’t a threat to him, and against his better judgement he felt a sense of protectiveness over you now - he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.
You think you had been sat there for about 30 minutes before either one of you spoke up again. “You can take my bed by the way, I think you could do with it.” he was right - your whole body had ached, and he somehow had a fairly okay bed down here considering the conditions you were all in. As much as you wanted to be polite and refuse, you found your legs taking control, and before you knew it, you were situated on his bed as he put some materials on the floor, so it was comfortable enough to sleep on.
With you curled up, Emmett started blowing the candles out one by one before laying himself down on the floor. With silence filling the room, you whispered a quiet goodnight to him.
“Goodnight y/n.” he quietly responded back with - it felt strange speaking to someone like this - he’d been alone for a while now. The both of you rapidly fell into the open arms of sleep, feeling secure with each other’s presence - you felt like you were safe here, and you hoped you were right this time.
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queenshelby · 7 months
Text
THE FUTURE (PART TWO)
Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place) x Original Female Character
Warning: Age Gap, Forced Procreation, Past Sexual Abuse, Angst
Words: 2,677
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Emmett brooded alone in his rustic cabin, his weathered face contorted in a scowl. Evelyn's plea weighed heavily on his mind, an oppressive burden dragging him into the depths of frustration. "Why should I bring a child into this forsaken world?" he muttered to himself, the words escaping his lips as a hushed whisper. It wasn't just the lurking danger beyond their sanctuary that deterred him; it was the guilt that haunted him from his past.
As if on cue, Evelyn entered the room, her wide eyes searching for Emmett's gaze. She understood his mood without the need for words, instinctively sensing the turmoil within him. "Have you made a decision?" she asked, eager to know if Emmett was prepared to be paired with Caitlyn for the program.
"Yes, Evelyn, and the answer is no," Emmett replied firmly, causing Evelyn's eyebrows to furrow in concern. "I understand," she said, taking a seat beside him, her presence a comforting balm. She watched as he shook his head, her empathy flowing freely.
"Do you truly understand?" Emmett questioned, a flicker of anger igniting in his eyes. "Bringing a child into this world... It's a perilous gamble. I lost my family once, and I cannot bear the thought of losing another. Pretending to go along with the program while secretly abstaining will only result in Caitlyn being paired with someone else after months or even a year of fruitless attempts." Emmett's words were laced with painful truth, and Evelyn knew he had thoroughly considered this choice.
Evelyn's expression softened, and her hands reached out to gently touch his arm. "That's why I understand, Emmett. I am grateful that I am too old to participate in this program. But, despite the odds, we have a chance to create something beautiful here."
Emmett met her gaze, realizing the depth of her understanding and compassion. "I will inform the Council of your decision," Evelyn finally said, leaving Emmett to his solitude, knowing he desired it.
Meanwhile...
Caitlyn stood alone on the edge of the island, her heart heavy with the weight of her resolve. She had made her choice. Like Emmett, she couldn't fathom bringing a child into this harsh and dangerous world. It seemed a futile endeavor, only amplifying the vulnerability of the human race. And so, she had decided to leave.
With determination in her eyes, Caitlyn hastily scribbled a note explaining her intentions. "I cannot remain here," she wrote, the words stark against the paper. With a sigh, she pinned the note to a prominent post, aware it would be discovered soon enough.
As luck would have it, Evelyn stumbled upon the note during her leisurely stroll back from Emmett's cottage. She usually took the scenic route, collecting naturally growing food along the way. Her eyes widened as she read the words, her heart pounding in her chest. "Dear God!" Evelyn cursed, hastening her return to Emmett's cottage.
"Emmett!" she called out upon approaching, her voice echoing through the lush landscape. "You won't believe what I found!" Emmett came running towards her, rifle in hand, fearing the worst.
Startled, Emmett's rugged face etched with concern. "What is it, Evelyn?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice.
Evelyn caught up to him, the wind whipping her hair around her face. "It's Caitlyn," she said breathlessly, thrusting the note into his hands. "She's gone."
Emmett's eyes narrowed as he scanned the note, the words sinking like stones in his chest. "I'm not surprised," he muttered, a mix of anger and worry brewing beneath his gruff exterior.
"Nor am I, but I must find her, Emmett. The boys need her, and she has already endured so much," Evelyn pleaded. However, Emmett shook his head, his mind made up.
"No, I will go after her. You are needed here," Emmett declared, his voice a solemn whisper. With a determined glint in his piercing blue eyes, Emmett embarked on his perilous mission to find Caitlyn and bring her back, regardless of the cost.
***
Meanwhile, Caitlyn had already found herself on the mainland, her footsteps silent against the cracked pavement. She had always been a daring adventurer, but this was an entirely new level of peril.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she cautiously navigated the desolate streets. Her deafness was both a blessing and a curse in this soundless world plagued by creatures drawn to noise. Caitlyn couldn't afford even the slightest sound. She had witnessed firsthand the horrors these creatures were capable of, and those memories haunted her dreams.
As she walked, Caitlyn's thoughts drifted to Emmett and Evelyn, both of whom she considered dear friends. They had always been there for her, a steadfast pillar of support. Emmet, in particular, was a mentor and friend to her, even if he was twice her age and had a tendency to be grumpier than a bear with a toothache.
It was for the better this way. Caitlyn knew that Evelyn and Emmett would look after the boys for her, and she knew that she had made the right decision, namely to leave. She couldn’t even imagine the heartache of having a family would bring to her in this unkind world and forced procreation with someone she despised was even worse. It was Caitlyn’s worst nightmare. Much worse than the creatures themselves.
***
Meanwhile, Emmett trudged onward, his face etched with determination and worry. He had always been a protector, but this felt different. It felt... personal.
Days passed, but Emmett never faltered, following Caitlyn's inadvertent breadcrumbs. He had a hunch that she was heading to the abandoned factory in the heart of the town. With his survival instincts guiding him, he navigated the dangerous path, avoiding the roaming creatures that lurked in the shadows.
As he approached the centre of the dilapidated worker's township, the silence grew deafening, and fear hung heavy in the air. The creatures ruled this place, and one wrong move could mean certain death.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Emmett spotted Caitlyn in the distance. She stood frozen amidst the ruins of a forgotten city. Relief washed over him like a cool wave, but he knew better than to rush to her side. He had to be patient, cautious - the silent hero.
Emmett approached Caitlyn with utmost care, his eyes never straying from the lurking creatures. Caitlyn turned towards him, her eyes widening in surprise, her hands trembling slightly. She had hoped someone would come for her, but seeing Emmett now, a mix of emotions flooded her.
"I didn't expect you to come," Caitlyn signed softly, her fingers uncertainly grasping at the air.
Emmett offered her a small, understanding smile. “We're friends, remember?" he signed, a confession he had never made before. In his world, he believed he had no friends.
Caitlyn nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. Never had she valued friendship more than in that moment.
 “Come, I know where it is safe,” Emmett motioned for Caitlyn to follow him. She nodded, knowing he had a plan to keep her alive.
From the moment she met Emmett, she had been captivated by his resourcefulness and resilience. He understood the creatures' nature, communicating through sign language that he had learned from Regan.
As they walked side by side, silence enveloped them. Each step was cautious, every breath held in anticipation. In their world, noise was the enemy.
Finally, they reached the edge of the dense forest, where Emmett had established a hidden sanctuary during one of his supply runs.
Emmett led Caitlyn to a small cottage, but before they could reach safety, a sudden crack of a branch shattered the silence. Fear gripped Emmett's chest, his heart skipping a beat.
“Hide!” he gestured frantically, urging Caitlyn to find shelter. He pulled her towards safety as the creatures charged through the vegetation, their terrifying presence shaking the very foundations of their being.
"Quiet," Emmett mouthed, his hands steady. Caitlyn held her breath, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on the creatures as they passed, their instincts focused on the noise that had momentarily disturbed their stillness.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the creatures moved on, unaware of Emmett and Caitlyn's presence. Caitlyn released a shaky breath, her body trembling with fear. Emmett reassured her with a pat on the shoulder, relief evident in his eyes.
***
Eventually, Emmett and Caitlyn entered the cottage. Every rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind made Emmett's heart race, fearing the return of the nightmarish creatures.
The events of the past few days had left Caitlyn physically and emotionally drained. She needed rest before continuing her journey, and Emmett understood that.
For hours, they sat on the cold ground, Caitlyn lost in fragmented memories. Fear, pursuit, and the haunting faces of the creatures consumed her thoughts. But amidst the chaos, there was a glimmer of hope - Emmett, her beacon of strength in this relentless nightmare.
“You have two choices now, Caitlyn," Emmett signed, guiding her face towards his.
“We can venture to the factory together, leaving the safety of the island behind for good, or we can return to the island where it's secure," Emmett signed, allowing her the space to process the overwhelming events and emotions.
 “I cannot return to the island, Emmett!" Caitlyn signed, as a gentle rustle of leaves outside caught his attention. He turned to face the sound, his heart quickening once more.
“Yes, you can. I'll move in with you, and together, we can pretend to comply with the authorities' quest to repopulate the planet," Emmett joked, eliciting a smile from Caitlyn, though she shook her head.
Caitlyn scrutinized his countenance, searching for even the slightest trace of deception, yet all she discovered was an unwavering honesty etched into every crease. Reluctantly, she replied, "And what reason do I have to place my trust in you?"
Emmett's hand quivered imperceptibly as he clenched his fists, his words intermingling with the distant roar of creatures. "Because I am present here and now, am I not? Despite everything, I have morals that prevent me from allowing the Council to coerce you into something you do not believe in," he whispered and expressed through his hands to the best of his abilities.
A heavy silence descended upon them as Caitlyn contemplated Emmett's proposition. She weighed the risks, the potential for security, and the immense responsibility of bringing another life into this daunting world.
Breaking the stillness, Caitlyn signed, "If we feign our alliance, what will happen if we are discovered? The consequences could be catastrophic."
Emmett nodded, fully comprehending the gravity of her concerns. "It will be risky, yes, but perhaps my willingness to partake in this charade will grant you some respite, at least until we can find a more viable solution."
A faint smile curved Caitlyn's lips, her hands conveying both apprehension and hope. In the eerie hush of their surroundings, Emmett's offer lingered in the air, awaiting Caitlyn's decision. The weight of their future bore down upon them, threatening to shatter their fragile aspirations.
Caitlyn's hands moved deliberately, contemplating her response. With each measured gesture, her decision began to take shape. Finally, she signed, "I will accompany you back. For now."
Relief washed over Emmett's face, though it was tinged with caution. He knew their journey to the island would be arduous, and their trials far from over. Yet, together, perhaps, Caitlyn stood a fighting chance.
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Text
SAVIOUR
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Pairing - Emmett x fem!reader
Summary - When Emmett had the chance of seeing you in the forest, he couldn't resist but to steal you away for himself in his lonely home.
Warnings - dub con, p in v, oral both receiving, cruel treatment, rough.
Notes - accidentally deleted the original post, so here we go again.
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The silver lining with this apocalypse is that Emmett would have no distress with you making a noise as he motions you to keep on moving. Your body is shivering, eyes swelling, bare feet aching from the long journey, but you don’t dare to make a sound. The fear of the death angels still being greater than a mere bearded man. 
Despite being kidnapped in broad daylight, it was a beautiful day. The beauty of this difficult situation was, Emmett could walk into your camp, holding a gun to the air with one hand, and his free hand pointing towards you without any worries. There were no negotiations in the matter, Emmett was the only one with a death wish. No followers or you all get to die an agonizing death. Because he has lost it all, but now he could have you. It was an easy guess with what the group had decided upon.
He first saw you through his scope, you and a few other group members were searching for supplies in the same area he was. Emmett became captivated by you the moment he saw you. He stalked you back to your base, there were only a dozen of you guys in an abandoned factory far north of his. He watched you for days, studied you, obsessed over you. 
There were little things Emmett knew of you, but you seemed kind, genuine, naive and you were bewitching to the human eye. Emmett just had to have you, he lived a lonely life, but you provided an opportunity for comfort, contentment, intimacy. 
Entering the factory, your eyes wander around the abandoned space. Emmett picked you up bridal style, and you slid down into his bunker, landing softly on a large pile of sandbags. 
You laid still on him for a moment, he was stroking your flustered cheek as you struggled to find steady breathing. Gently, Emmett slid out from underneath you and stood up to take off his jacket. Laying like a dead fish, you decided to stand up and hopefully bargain with the stranger. 
“Please, let me go home,” you pleaded in a whisper. You weren’t sure how safe it was to speak down here, but it had just become natural to speak at this sound. Emmett turned to you, slowly taking his bandana off, revealing his bearded, dirty face. 
Very naive of you, perhaps a bit too hopeful too, to think that he’d have a sudden change of heart now after that long walk. But you had no clue how obsessed he had become over you in such a short amount of time, and with such little knowledge of you.
“This is your home now” he replied, closing the distance between you two, he brushed your loose hair with the back of his hand. “What’s your name?” Emmett asked. With a whisper, you told him your name, it was smarter to cooperate with him, maybe gain a bit of trust? “Pretty name for a pretty girl, I’m Emmett” he whispered back, his arms wrapped around your lower back. 
You could feel his erection through the denim, his breathing was heavy yet quiet, quickly you found yourself shaking and whimpering against him. Emmett cooed you, rubbing your lower back in attempts to make yourself feel better, completely unaware that he’s the reason you feel so overwhelmed. 
“I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’ll protect you, all you have to do is please me, baby” Emmett had a small smile on his lips, he leant down and kissed your cheek, which trailed down to your neck. 
It was a good deal in his eyes, he’d protect you from the monstrosity once known as humanity and all you had to do was cheer, reassure and relieve him. It would be a romantic future in his eyes, you could read to one another, he’d search for rations and then you’d do the cooking, hold each other closely at night. 
Your sobs were silent, his facial hair brushing against your goosebumps. Emmett took off his cap and dropped it onto the sandbags. His lips hovered over yours, almost as if he was waiting for you to close the small distance. 
Grazing his lips onto yours, he slowly deepened the kiss, his hands moving onto your ass, squeezing tightly. Chest rising and falling, Emmett was groaning into your mouth through sloppy kisses. He was hungry like an animal, and you were to be an endless feast for him.  
“On your knees” Emmett ordered.
Unwillingly, you slowly dropped to your knees, his hands on his shoulders pushing you down, your arms covered your chest and you kept your eyesight away from the restrained bulge in your face. Emmett sighed, his rough hands took their time unbuckling the leather belt, he undid his fly and slid down his jeans enough to be able to see the outline of his cock through his briefs. 
Grabbing onto his bulge, Emmett stared you up and down, clicking his tongue. “Take off your top” he grumbled, combing his hand through his oily hair. Without thinking, you shook your head. Emmett grunted, quickly squatting down and wrapping his hand around your throat. Your nails dug into his hand, but he did not loosen his grip. “You’ll be a good girl, I did not go through all of this fucking effort to have you be a brat, got it?” Emmett snarled by your ear, you were trying to spit out words but failed. “Use your fucking words” his voice was dripping of irritation. 
“Y-yes” you managed to spit out. 
The hold on your throat loosened, Emmett gave a heavy sigh. “Good girl, such a good girl for me. You’re thankful for me, yeah? Saving you from them. If they really cared, they would have done something about it. They’d be willing to die for you, like I am” he spoke with dark eyes. 
It was terrifying, his look was painted with crazed feelings. Emmett stood back up and waited for you to follow his previous order. With shaking hands, you pulled your top from over your head. But that didn’t satisfy Emmett, he glared at you until you realized he wanted you to take your bra off as well. 
The cold air hardened your nipples, and Emmett studied your current appearance. There was this smug look on his face, this is exactly why he went these lengths for you. Slipping his size out of his briefs, his cock tapped your right cheek a couple of times, he was slowly masterbating right by your lips.
You didn’t expect him to be this, large. It was intimidating, being in such close range to his member. You’ve only known him for a few hours, and now he had his dick in your face. His cock was a tone darker than the rest of his skin, he had a lot of pubic hair around the base of his member, for obvious reasons. 
It was self explanatory what was expected of you, you raised your hands and stroked his big size. He let out a satisfied sigh, your hands going right down to the base and coming back up to the head. Reluctantly, your lips hovered over the tip. You could see the precum drip, you had to close your eyes to swirl your tongue around his tip, slowly going deeper down his length.      
“Ah, ah, yeah… Such a good girl” Emmett smiled, gently thrusting his member in and out of your mouth. “Nothing better for your mouth to do, then to please my cock” his eyes were lightly rolling back. 
After a couple of minutes of gentle sucking, Emmett started to force his cock into your mouth, his tip brushing against the back of your throat. You gagged against him, resisting the urge to bite down on him, he was lightly grunting, mumbling words under his breath with his jaw clenched, watching you below him as you struggled to breathe. 
Holding onto the back of his legs for support, he held the back of your head to keep you still. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, eyes stinging as you just tried to focus on your breathing. After what felt like an eternity of pain, he grumbled, his hips locked forward as he came in your mouth. 
Trying your hardest not to react to the salty taste, Emmett slowly pulled him out of your mouth, your jaw aching and tears running down your eyes. Gently stroking his cock, Emmett looked down to you and placed his hand softly on your heated cheek. 
“That was lovely” Emmett slowly praised you. He helped you up and picked you off the ground.“You deserve to feel special too” Emmett continued, walking down the bunker. 
Emmett laid you on the singular bed and tugged your pants and underwear off together, he pulled his soiled shirt off and crawled on top of you. He smelt lightly of body odor, his breath was hot by your ear and chest felt moist from the sweat. Elbows resting on either side of your head, he gave you a gentle kiss, you didn’t kiss him back. 
“Don’t be so stiff” Emmett grunted, quickly you kissed him back. 
His hand trailed over your inner thighs, reaching all the way up to your entrance, you hadn’t even realized how wet you had become. A wicked grin grew on him as he parted your slick lips with two fingers. 
“Ugh, is this because of me?” Emmett toyed, his finger circling around your clit, you took in a heavy breath, trying to remain content underneath your assaulter. “Don’t make me feel so special” Emmett clicked his tongue, feeling up your breast with his spare hand. 
Without letting you know, he pushed in two fingers at once, chuckling at the tight feeling against them. You bit back a cry of pain, his nails were poorly trimmed, they scraped against your soft walls as they curled inside of you, Emmett noticed your uncomfortable expression and pulled his fingers out. 
“What’s wrong baby?” Emmett asked, actually sounding concerned about you. 
“It hurts” you said honestly, a part of you wondered if you should have just lied instead. Emmett looked at his soaked nails and sighed. 
“Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart, I’ll have to trim them better. Here, I have an easy solution” he winked to you as if you wanted to be in this predicament. 
Emmett whispered sweet words as he slid down the bed. He was on his knees, bent over, his beard brushing against your entrance. You shrieked at the first lick, Emmett’s head shot up and he pressed his finger to his mouth. With a heavy gulp, you dug your face into the pillow. His tongue swirled all around your lips, you were moaning against the pillow, and it still wasn’t quiet enough for Emmett’s likings, even though Emmett wants nothing more than to hear your screams, he didn’t exactly what you two to die horrible deaths before he could make you come. 
Emmett sighed and got up, you looked up to him, your eyebrows furrowed as he crawled on top of you, his exposed cock inches away from your mouth. Twirling himself around, Emmett lowered his body closer to yours, he moved his sticky member away from your mouth, allowing his balls to easily slip into your mouth. He gripped onto your thighs and pressed his head into your cunt. 
Your moans vibrated around his balls, making his cock twitch, your head was locked in between his still covered legs, the denim rubbing against your ears. It wasn’t hard for him to get you already onto the edge. His tongue was deep inside of you, being pulsated by your walls. Emmett was groaning into your cunt, your eyes all swelled up by your orgasm desperately begging to break free. With one last deep push, your cunt clenched around his tongue for dear life as your loud moans of pleasure were blocked by his balls. 
With shaking legs, your orgasm wore off, slurring with your mouth still full. Pulling his head away, his beard was soaked in your juices. Emmett sighed as he softly climbed off of you, just to turn himself back around and pin you down, hands above your head. Your eyes were tired, breathing slow and heavy as he aligned his tip with your entrance. It took you a moment to even realize that this wasn’t over yet. 
He covered your mouth with his hand as he pushed himself inside of you, it only took a couple of thrusts until he was completely inside of you, he was mumbling by your ear as his pace slowly picked up. 
“Such a good little girl for me” he smiled, his beard brushing against your flustered cheeks. “See why I had to save you? I can take care of you baby, fulfill your needs, just like you can fulfill mine” he smiled like a cheshire cat. 
You were whining against his size, you’ve never been with someone so big before, his cock was twitching inside of you. Emmett wouldn’t be able to last as long as he’d want to, it’s been so long since he’s felt such an intimate touch. But he had to be able to make you come again before he’d allow himself to explode inside of you. 
Moaning your name by your ear over and over again, he started attacking your bundle of nerves by thrusting at a quick and strong speed. You were clenching against him, eyes rolling back as you struggled to breathe, the side of his index finger pressing up against your nostrils. 
“My sweet thing needs to come again?” Emmett moaned, his mouth wide open as he stared into your teary eyes. “Come around my cock, make me feel good aye?” Emmett ordered, his finger rubbing your clit perfectly. 
Shortly after that, you followed his demand and clenched tightly around his size. It sent vibrations down his length, right to his base. With a few more heavy thrusts, he exploded right down your womb. A heavy groan echoing through the room. His head was in the crook of your neck, planting wet kisses on your skin. 
Burying his cock all the way up to your cervix, his substance coated your walls, his base blocking anything to drip out of your entrance. Emmett was groaning quietly, slowly removing his moist hand from your mouth. 
You took a deep breath, the back of your head pressing into the mattress, Emmett raised his head and gave you gentle kisses among your face as you dozed off to sleep, with him still buried inside of you. 
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cillmequick · 4 months
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They’re finally back! I’m so sorry for the delay but I got consumed writing my new Tommy series (check it out HERE!) and needed to get that out of my system a bit before I could come back to these two. I hope you’re ready to feel all your ✨emotions✨ because I almost made myself cry writing this one! Let’s dive in, shall we?
Summary: Emmett and Holly’s idyllic morning (insofar as any morning can be idyllic in a world ruled by monsters!) is rudely brought back to earth when it turns out that Regan has gone missing.
Warnings: 🔞 Smut (yay! They’re so horny guys!). Emotional angst - nothing quite as grief-stricken as so far tho - and a bit of bad language.
Word count: 5968 PART 10 | SERIES
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Part 11: Frequency
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He woke, eyes squinting against the brightness of the early morning light; the storm had passed, taking the heavy heat away and leaving the air smelling fresh and clean. Beyond the jagged remains of the missing windows he could see a pale sky beginning to be streaked with peach as the sun began her slow ascent to the heavens.
Holly was still lying next to him, face slightly turned away, long hair falling loose over her bare shoulder. The small half-blown dandelion clock tattoo near her collarbone was just visible, the escaping little seeds dancing towards him. He ran his fingers over it, her skin soft to the touch, and gently brushed the dark strands further from her neck to ghost his lips against it.
She murmured quietly in her sleep, leaning into him. Her movement shifted the blanket that covered her, the soft grey wool slipping down to expose the swell of her breasts, rosy nipples hardening enticingly in the cool morning air. He traced the arc of small line-drawn flowers that decorated her ribs, following the curve of her breast, fingertips roaming until they grazed her nipple. As he did, he felt her ass roll back into his crotch and he squeezed the little bud gently between his fingers, his mouth teasing more firmly at her neck.
“Mmmm what’re you doing..” she mumbled thickly, slowly fighting the fog of sleep, her words giving way to a gasp as his hand began to move lower.
“D’you think you can be quiet?” She felt his lips curl against her skin as she instinctively let him spread her legs, sliding his fingers between her sticky folds. The thought that she still had him leaking out of her from the night before made him groan, a low rumble against her back as he pressed two fingers against her core. Gently, he teased her tight opening, easing his fingers inside and, in his head he was pushing his cum back in, fucking it deep into her.
“Fuck..” she gasped as he curled his fingertips upwards, stroking the spot that made her jolt in his arms, her hand clamping firmly over her mouth to contain the noise. He was so hard behind her, thick length pressed against her ass, that she could feel herself getting wetter just thinking about having him.
“If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to make you.” His amused voice was barely a whisper against her ear, chuckling as he felt her cunt grip more tightly around his fingers as he fucked her. “Or maybe you’d prefer that..?”
He shifted so his other arm was beneath her head, bringing his hand to cover her mouth. He felt her whimper, soaking and squeezing his fingers.
“My dirty girl,” he grinned almost silently against her. She pulled his hand away so she could twist her head to catch his mouth, lacing her fingers through his shaggy hair, teeth grazing his lower lip as he worked relentlessly within her.
Dragging her mouth away from his, she stared at him with pleading eyes. Holding her gaze he gently pulled her leg up over his hip, the slick that coated his fingers leaving shiny stains on her skin, emphasising the coolness of the air and making her shiver. Or maybe it was just anticipation. As his thick tip nudged between her folds she bit her lip, holding in a whine as rolled his hips up, slowly burying himself deep inside her. Her head fell back against him and he gently cupped her chin, ready to catch her noises.
Slowly, achingly slowly, he began to drag his length against her velvety walls, free arm hooked under her knee, holding her leg up to allow him deeper access. “So f’king perfect,” he groaned under his breath against her ear, pressing his fingers into her mouth to keep her from moaning in response. Automatically, she began to suck on them, and the feeling of her warm mouth and soft tongue teasing across his skin, as his cock was wrapped in her deliciously tight, wet cunt was almost enough to send him over the edge. Breathing deeply he slowed his pace, dragging himself back from the brink.
She pulled her head back from his hand, releasing his fingers with a wet pop. “Emmett, please,” she begged in barely a whisper, one hand disappearing between her legs to stroke circles over her clit, desperate for more stimulation.
Raking his teeth across her neck, he fucked her with long, deep rolls of his hips against her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thigh, the angle giving her everything with each lazy thrust. Never in all the time they had spent in each other’s beds, had they actually woken up like this and she was beginning to wonder why she had been so stupid as to deny herself the pleasure of letting him fuck her awake.
She lost herself in the sensory assault, his breath ragged in her ear, beard tickling the spot on the back of her neck that made all her nerves sing. His free hand, no longer occupied with her mouth reached to cup her breast, thumb teasing the stiff little nub as his cock began to arrow more rapidly into her fluttering cunt, her own fingers against her clit adding to the symphony that was quickly building towards a crescendo within her.
Twisting again she tried to capture his mouth with hers, finding herself in need of tasting him, of seeing him. Her wriggling caused him to lose his grip, slipping out of her, both whimpering softly at the loss of contact. Taking the opportunity to roll over properly, she quickly scooted on top of him, reaching between their bodies to guide his cock back into her body, foreheads touching, sharing the same contented breath as he filled her so completely.
Sitting up, she slowly rolled her hips forward and back, head tipped back, hand over her mouth at the exquisite stretch and how he always seemed to rub in exactly the right places. His large hands roamed her body, squeezing her hips as she began to ride him, palming her breasts as they bounced above him. He watched with his bottom lip clenched hard between his teeth as his length disappeared into her each time she moved, both his cock and her beautiful pussy glistening with her arousal. He rolled a thumb over the slick little bundle of nerves, feeling her cunt flutter in response, her wetness dripping down his cock, pleasantly ticklish against his balls.
Her movements began to stutter as the waves of pleasure began to build again, threatening to wash her away. He pulled her gently down towards him, catching her with a searing kiss as he took control, holding her still so he could fuck up into her, hard and fast. She buried her face in his neck, biting harder than she meant to in an effort to keep herself silent as finally the coil inside her snapped, orgasm hitting her like a freight train. Lights popped in her vision and all she could hear was the loud rushing of her heartbeat in her ears. Her whole body shook in his arms as he followed her over the edge, shooting his release deep within her.
Wrapped tightly in his arms, one hand tangled in her long hair, she gasped for breath against his skin, still quivering from the intensity. Around his sensitive, softening cock he could feel the tiny, delicious spasms of her aftershocks. Very slowly she uncurled so she could look at him, an uncharacteristically soft smile on her lips, the green of her eyes clear and bright in the morning light, very close to his.
“Morning,” she breathed, bumping her nose against his shyly.
“Morning yourself,” he smiled and her heart jumped a little at the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. She closed the gap between them, lips melding softly together, hearts slowly returning to normal rhythms. Feeling her shiver slightly, with her bare back exposed to the cool air, he grabbed the discarded blanket to drape across her.
Speaking further was asking for trouble but as she settled in his arms, head on his chest, his throat was full of things he wanted to say. They’d seen each other now, in all their messy, painful grief. And yet he felt lighter that morning than he had since before the invasion. He’d confessed his greatest shame, his failure to protect the people he loved, but yet she wasn’t running from him. If anything she was running to him. She was beautiful and clever and flawed and kind in ways he could never have possibly imagined when he first met her. And she wanted to be with him.
Stroking her hair, as he felt her breathing relax back into slumber, he wanted to tell her that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. That he would not fail this time.
*****
Several hours and a further catnap together later, they finally made their way back inside the foundry, via the old workers’ showers. Trying not to make a sound under the freezing water (there was a disappointing lack of solar panels here for warmth) she quickly cleaned up, feeling his eyes on her as she washed.
Which led to her on her knees, his hands buried in her wet hair that stuck to her skin as she swallowed him down. Feeling him tense as she gently dragged her nails over his balls, his salty seed coating her tongue and, as she released him, she held her mouth open for him to see, letting it leak thickly over her lips.
The feral growl in his throat as he smeared it across her mouth with his thumb, pushing it back between her lips almost made her cum herself, fingers working between her legs as she made a show of swallowing.
In moments he had her with her back against the cold tiles, on his knees for her with his tongue against her still sensitive clit. It was barely no time at all before her legs were shaking, her release wetting his face, shining on his full lips. And by then, with a speed of recovery he hadn’t experienced in a long time, he was hard again. Bending her against the damp wall, he fucked her roughly until she was screaming his name silently in her head, chewing her fist to keep quiet as tears leaked from her screwed up eyes.
Pulling out of her, seeing the thick white drip spilling from her abused hole he couldn’t help but tease it back inside, living his early morning fantasy. His other hand covered her mouth, pulling her head back so her body arched as he pummelled into her until she squirted all over his hand, her teeth grazing against his palm.
“I need another fucking shower,” she grumbled with a grin, still slightly breathless, her legs like jelly, as she spun around in his arms.
“Hmmmm… yes, you’re filthy,” he agreed, kissing her softly, licking into her mouth as her hands roamed his broad, freckle-scattered shoulders. Tasting each other on their tongues.
“Is this what it’s going to be like?” she giggled as they came up for air, her nose sliding against his.
“What?”
“Living together? You making me late for the important business of staying alive by fucking me against every available surface?”
He grinned wickedly, kissing her again, squeezing her ass until she squeaked against his mouth.
“I fucking hope so.”
*****
Eventually, actually clean and dressed again, Holly tied her wet hair up on top of her head. Heading for the stairs to the lowest floor she looked back to see him not following behind her.
“Aren’t you coming?”
He ran his hand over his damp hair, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was thinking I could go and get the stuff from town. Oxygen for the baby, bandages, y’know?”
“That’s ok, I can run out later.”
He came to a stop in front of her, warm hands running lightly up and down her arms. “Let me. You’re better with them. I just say the wrong thing. And you know what you’re doing with the kid and his foot and the baby and shit…” His eyes flicked away as he spoke.
“It’s not going to get better if you keep avoiding them,” she challenged gently, slipping a hand up to play in the soft hair of his beard. Slowly his eyes came back to meet hers. “But realistically you can carry more than me, so ok. Go get supplies. I’ll have an awkward breakfast with a family I don’t know who may or may not have heard us having sex.”
The grin that danced across her face was contagious and he chuckled despite himself.
“If they heard us I think we’d be dead by now.”
“From mortification. Yes indeed.”
He pulled her towards him by her waist and his mouth found hers in a languid kiss.
“Be careful,” she murmured as they parted, blinking slowly, a dazed smile on her lips.
“Isn’t it my job to tell you that?” he smiled back, dropping a final peck to her forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
*****
Making her way back downstairs, grinning to herself at the pleasant ache between her legs and the prospect of more back at her place that night, she was rudely brought back to earth by the smell of blood. The air was noticeably stagnant down there after her night spent above ground. Looking around there was no sign of Evelyn or Regan, just the baby, asleep in its box-crib and Marcus, sitting close by, his injured foot propped on a chair.
“Morning,” she smiled, crouching down to have a look at the bandages, wondering if she had enough left to replace them before Emmett got back from the store. “Where’re your mom and sister?”
“Where have you been?” he asked quietly.
“Just upstairs with Emmett. And then the shower,” she smiled pointing at her damp hair, hoping above hope that none of the family had come looking for them. “Which we should probably get you into soon. Don’t want to risk you getting an infection.”
“She’s gone.”
Holly stopped fiddling with the bandage and looked up. His eyes were very big in his small, pinched face.
“Who’s gone?”
“Regan.”
“What do you mean gone?” she asked quietly, fear beginning to rise in her chest. At that moment, Evelyn came running, barefoot, into the room, a wild look in her eyes. She raced straight to Holly who had stood up at her arrival, gripping her arms tightly.
“Where is she?! Have you seen her??” Terror was etched across her face.
“No. No I haven’t - we hadn’t. What do you mean she’s gone? Why would she do that?? Where would she go??”
“Where’s Emmett??” Evelyn looked around wildly before frowning seriously at Holly. “Did he take her?? He looked unstable yesterday.”
Holly shook her off angrily. “No he didn’t fucking take her! He’s been with me the whole time. And he’s not unstable - he’s grieving. Give him a fucking break!”
Evelyn stared at her for a moment, blue eyes hard and penetrating, chunks of her long blonde hair falling out of its habitual plait. Eventually she let out a long, shuddering sigh, sinking into a chair and dropping her head to her hands.
“I can’t find her.” She was crying now, shoulders jumping. “She’s gone and she’s in danger and how am I supposed to protect her now?” she wailed quietly into her hands.
“Hey,” soothed Holly, calm again as she rubbed her shoulders gently. “We’ll find her. She might have just gone for a walk. Or to see if she could find food.. or any number of things. She might be playing with the dogs.
Evelyn lifted her head sharply, face wet and eyes puffy. “What dogs? Dogs are dangerous now.”
Holly closed her eyes quickly, wishing she would learn when to keep her mouth shut. “Just some dogs that befriended me - us - a while back. They live outside - they’re safe.” She squeezed the other woman’s shoulder. “The point is I’m sure it’s nothing and she’ll walk back in any minute wondering what all the fuss is about.”
Evelyn nodded slowly, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the scruffy hem of the torn off dress that hung raggedly over her trousers.
“She isn’t coming back,” came a quiet voice and both women turned to look at its owner.
“What do you mean?” asked Evelyn. “How do you know? Why didn’t you say anything before?”
He ducked his head, shooting a sidelong glance at his mother.
“Marcus..?” prompted Holly more gently, even though her heart was thudding, anxiety creeping up the back of her neck. Dropping back down to his level she tried to coax him to look at her. “Do you know where Regan’s gone?”
He nodded slowly, meeting her eyes and she could see the fear in him. And something else. Guilt.
“Did she ask you not to tell?”
He nodded again, flicking a fearful glance at Evelyn who was pale and tight-lipped.
“You need to tell us, buddy. I know she might have told you as a secret but she might be in trouble out there on her own.”
He fidgeted, lacing his fingers tightly together in his lap over and over again.
“She’s gone to find the music.”
Holly frowned and looked up at Evelyn who shrugged.
“What music?”
“On the radio.” He pointed across the room at Emmett’s cumbersome old radio. She had a small flash of memory of Regan and him playing with it, his sister trying to distract him from the pain after he’d been stitched up. The comically large headphones on his small head. At his words, Evelyn went to get it, wincing slightly at its weight as she carried it over to where he sat.
“Are you saying there’s a radio station still playing music..?” Holly asked slowly, watching the other woman slip the headphones on, checking the volume was down low and they were plugged in before she switched it on.
At once Evelyn’s mouth dropped open in surprise, looking wide-eyed at Holly. She stood up quickly, reaching out for a chance to listen.
“It’s the same song over and over,” he explained as Evelyn handed the heavy headphones to Holly. Slipping them on, suddenly she was surrounded by music. One of the old classic crooners.
Somewhere… beyond the sea.
Somewhere… waiting for me…
Tears sprang to her eyes and her chest ached. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard music.
We'll meet.. beyond the shore
We'll kiss.. just as before
She closed her eyes as it played on, overcome with the memories of long Thanksgiving car rides with her sister and parents to go and see her grandparents. Of her dad singing this song to her mother as they linked hands on the centre console. She used to think it was gross how tactile her parents were.
A tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away, removing the headphone with shaking hands. Meeting Evelyn’s eyes she swallowed carefully before she spoke.
“How is this even possible..?”
The taller woman just shook her head, but it was Marcus who replied, hobbling to gather a pile of books from the corner where the kids had dumped their stuff. Spreading one of them open on the table beside the women, he pointed at a page of numbers, most of which had been crossed off with a heavy pen.
“It’s broadcasting from this frequency.”
Evelyn leaned forward, studying it with a frown. “That’s one of Lee’s books.” She looked up at Holly. “He was trying to find some sign of life, thought maybe there would be somewhere the creatures weren’t that would be safe. But he never heard a single thing but static. Regan must have lifted this from his office before we left.”
Holly looked back at Marcus.
“So was Regan able to work out where this signal is coming from?”
He nodded, pulling out a different book with a map of the area, pointing at a small island off the coast. It couldn’t be more than a few days walk. Not quite as far as the city because they could cut down towards the marina out of town.
“She said she was going there to find out. And that she might be able to use the hearing aid dad couldn’t fix to broadcast the sound the creatures don’t like. Then we could play it and keep them away.”
Holly nodded slowly the gears working in her brain. “Smart kid you’ve got there,” she smiled at Evelyn but she didn’t return it, fear creeping back into her eyes.
“She won’t make it that far alone. It’s too dangerous.” Her voice began to shake and she had to sit down again.
“She’s got the speaker though, she can scare them away,” rationalised Marcus.
“But she can’t hear them coming, sweetheart,” she replied softly, running a hand over his hair. “Why didn’t she tell me..?”
“Because you wouldn’t have let her go.”
“Damn right I wouldn’t! What was she thinking?!” Evelyn covered her mouth, forcing herself to breathe slowly to try and stop herself from panicking and scaring him any more than she already had. “What are we going to do?” she moaned quietly into her palms. “There’s no way we’ll catch up with her as we are.”
“No, you won’t,” muttered Holly who had been studying the map in detail as mother and son spoke. Straightening up she turned to look at them.
“But I will.”
*****
There was a definite nip of autumn in the air after the storm had cleared away the unusual spell of muggy heat, but he was still hot as he slowly worked his way back towards the foundry with three heavy tanks of oxygen. One in his backpack with bandages and some other supplies he needed, and one in each hand. And, much to the dogs’ annoyance as they waited for him yet again, he kept having to stop to make sure his sweaty palms didn’t let one of them slip away. There would be no surviving the noise that would make.
Inching his way slowly along the woodland path, finally to his relief, the dilapidated factory came into view through the trees. And not too much later he was lugging the tanks down into the living quarters, sweaty and puffing slightly.
Evelyn looked up from where she was feeding the baby, its chubby legs kicking happily as it nursed. He looked away quickly, clearing his throat, suddenly acutely aware that he could see more of his old friend’s wife’s breast than he was strictly comfortable with.
“Holly said you would need more of these before long.” He gestured at the canisters, eyes roving the space, looking for her as he unpacked the rest of the supplies. But there was only Evelyn and the baby, and Marcus, wearing his headphones and looking pensive as he studied a book in his lap.
“Thank you, Emmett,” replied Evelyn softly, covering herself carefully as baby Max finished feeding. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugged, still searching distractedly for Holly. Had she gone home maybe? She didn’t say she was going to but since when did Holly ever do anything she was supposed to? Or maybe she’d taken Regan to get some fresh air..? It was fusty and stale down here.
“Do you know where Holly is?” he asked, unable to stop himself, feeling decidedly silly. When did he get so fucking clingy??
The baby let out a loud burp, followed by a stream of milky goop and in a flash he was transported back to the days after Toby was born. The seemingly never ending fluids and how he and Nora had both collapsed in sleep-deprived giggles as one of them was coated in baby sick for the umpteenth time that day.
To dispel the lump in his throat he focussed on grabbing a rag, quickly going to help her clean up.
“Can you take him for a minute?”
Before he could object she was carefully transferring Max into his arms. He tried not to tense as the smell of newborn baby enveloped him, drawing him further back into his memories. The familiar soft, warm weight in the crook of his arm. Max looked up at him with huge blue eyes, wrapping his tiny fist around the finger Emmett offered him.
He felt winded by the longing to have this again. He and Holly should be able to have this. He should be able to hold his child and help her with feeds and laugh with her as he cleaned milky sick out of her hair.
But as his throat constricted with emotion, with the unfairness of it all, Max began to fuss, writhing unhappily in his arms, his little face turning red. As the first wails began to escape, Evelyn quickly took him back, hushing him gently against her shoulder.
“Holly..?” he asked again quietly and she looked up, with the same clear blue eyes as her son.
“She’s gone to find Regan,” she began, explaining how her daughter had taken off on some mad mission in search of a radio frequency. Immediately the hand of fear clenched around his heart. Muttering under his breath he hurried to where he kept his meagre belongings, quickly throwing the bare essentials into his bag.
“How long ago did she leave?”
Evelyn shook her head, frowning. “Forty-five minutes? Maybe a little more?” Rocking the still grisling child she looked on anxiously as he checked his rifle for bullets, stuffing spares into his bag. “Where are you going?”
“To get them both back before they get themselves fucking killed. Or worse.”
Grabbing his bag he marched across the room, eyes like shards of ice.
“You have no idea what kind of people there are out there nowadays. What people have become. Two girls, alone?” He shook his head, flashes of Hunter’s lair filling his vision. His hands on Holly. The bruises he left behind.
“Stay here, don’t leave. Just..” He ran his hand down his face. “Just fucking wait here. I’ll bring them back.”
*****
Consulting the map she walked as quickly as she dared, trying not to make a sound on the overgrown train tracks. She had absolutely no idea if she was following Regan or not, but if she was heading for the coast this was the fastest way of getting there.
As she walked, dodging twigs that threatened to snap and piles of rustling leaves, she remembered the argument she and Emmett had had about coming this way to get to the city. At some point soon she knew she was going to have to go through a tunnel and the thought filled her with dread. The echoing darkness. The scrabbling sound of them coming that haunted her nightmares.
Hoisting the small pack she had grabbed from home on her way out of town a little higher, she gripped the straps for comfort. A little way ahead, Dexter trotted along, having refused to be left behind. Not that she minded the company.
Suddenly he stopped, turning back to face her, black ears cocked high on his monochrome head. She froze, straining to find what he was listening to but hearing nothing. All she could hear was the bubbling of the river to her left and her own anxiously whooshing heartbeat.
Turning very slowly, so as not to make a single sound, she looked back down the tracks and finally saw what had prompted his pause.
Emmett.
Sighing deeply she relaxed, waiting with her hands on her hips for him to catch up with her. As he approached she could see the thunderous frown on his face. Without a word he tugged her by the arm, carefully leading them through the bushes to the river bank. Clear water raced by, foaming as it tumbled over rocks and other obstacles, swollen from the downpour the night before and giving them just enough cover to speak in whispers.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, spinning her to face him and she yanked her arm back crossly.
“What am I doing?? What are you doing?”
“Sending you home, that’s what.”
She scoffed indignantly, folding her arms over her chest.
“I’m not going anywhere without Regan, so you can either help me or fuck off.”
He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “You can’t just take off like that.”
“She’s just a kid, Emmett!” she whisper-shouted, hands in the air. “What the fuck did you expect me to do?? Just sit around and let her get on with it?!”
“You could have waited for me to get back. We could have made a plan!”
“Right. And I was supposed to say what exactly? Sorry Evelyn, I can’t help you find your kid because we need to wait for the big clever man to come and tell us what to do. How very empowering of you, Emmett,” she snarked.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” he bit back.
“And every minute we stand here arguing, she’s getting further away and into more trouble, if she’s not already dead. We don’t have time for this.” She tried to head back to the railway line but he caught her by her pack, pulling her back.
“Don’t do that. For once can you just stop and fucking talk to me? Is it really so much to ask?”
She glared furiously at him, fire in the depths of her green eyes and he had to fight the urge to kiss her. God, why did it always make him so fucking horny when she was fighting him?? Shaking the thought away, he held her by her shoulders.
“You know as well as I do that it’s not just creatures to be afraid of out here.” Her eyes flickered away from his, conceding the point. “If you find her, and by some miracle she’s ok, then what? Two girls, alone out here? You’re just asking for trouble and you know it, Hols. You think Hunter was the only one of his kind?”
“So come with me.” He shook his head, opening his mouth to argue but she ploughed on before he could. “She really might be onto something, Emmett. That song is coming from somewhere not far from here and someone had to make it do that. And the lyrics - beyond the sea - it’s coming from an island. That has to mean something. There might be others, somewhere safe we can go.”
It was his turn to scoff. “That song doesn’t mean anything. It’s been playing on repeat for months. Don’t you think if there were people they would have left a proper message and not just a fucking Sinatra riddle?! It’s an echo of the life we used to have - nothing more. And if the kid wants to get herself fucking killed looking for it that’s her choice, but I will not lose you because of it!”
“You knew about it? Why didn’t you tell me??”
“Because it’s a fucking song, Holly! It’s not the holy fucking grail.”
“Aren’t you even a little curious? What - and I know this will be a difficult concept for your superior male brain to process - but what if you’re wrong? What if there are people out there? Somewhere we can live without these things trying to kill us every fucking minute of our pathetic existence?” She softened, stepping closer so she was almost pressed against him, running a hand over his fuzzy jaw. “Do you really want to live like this when there might be something else..? Something better?”
The hope in her eyes was like a knife in his chest.
“There’s nothing out there,” he murmured, cradling her head between his hands, holding her fast as she tried to pull away in frustration. “But ok fine. I’ll look. I will find her and we’ll look.”
“We’ll find her and we’ll all look.”
He shook his head and her frown deepened. “You need to stay here. If something goes wrong I can’t protect you both.” She started to object but he hushed her with his thumb against her lips. “And besides, Evelyn needs your help. The kid is injured, she’s got the baby to deal with and she’s exhausted.”
“Why does this feel so familiar…? Wait, are you quoting me from last night??”
He smiled softly, stroking her cheeks. “Please, if you come with me and something happens to you… I don’t know what I’d do. Just stay here, keep them safe and I promise I’ll come back. With Regan, if she’s still alive.”
“Promise?”
“Hope to die,” he smiled, leaning to kiss her but she stopped him with her hands against his chest, frowning.
“Not even remotely funny.”
He rested his forehead against hers, falling into the green depths of her stare. “I promise I’ll come back to you. And if there really is some miraculous safe place, I will come and get you so we can go there together.
His breath was warm against her lips and she closed the gap, letting herself sink into the softness of his mouth, the tickle of his beard against her skin.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she mumbled as they parted, ducking to bury her head in his chest, mortified by the intensity of the feelings coursing through her.
“Now she says it. Not when she was running off into the wilderness without a second thought.”
She looked up to see him grinning at her, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that made her insides flip.
Dear lord, what had she become?!
“It might be better if we both go…” she tried again, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“Evelyn needs you.”
“I need you,” she whispered, staring up at him, watching his eyes widen at the admission. This new vulnerability she had never given him before.
He kissed her again, slowly, luxuriously, holding her tight to his body as their mouths melded perfectly together, tongues dancing sweetly in time.
“I will come back, I promise,” he murmured as they eventually broke for breath, pressing his lips to her forehead.
Finally accepting she wasn’t going to change his mind she nodded solemnly. He took her hand, leading them back towards the tracks where Dexter was waiting patiently, now accompanied by Mimi the German Shepherd, who Holly hadn’t noticed arrive with Emmett. She was his shadow as much as Dexter was hers though so she wasn’t surprised to see her.
Standing in the middle of the rails she cupped his face, pulling him into another gentle kiss.
“Be careful,” she mouthed as she drew back, hands sliding down from his face, along his arms, small fingers linking with his larger ones, squeezing tightly. “And keep her safe.”
He stole a final peck from her lips. “I promise.”
Pulling back with effort, she forced herself to smile encouragingly at him and he nodded briefly, resettling his cap on his head and turning the opposite direction. She watched as he walked away, Dexter trotting next to Mimi only to stop, confused, when Holly didn’t follow.
He looked over his shoulder and saw her watching. Being careful not to put his feet on anything noisy he turned and blew her a kiss which she pretended to catch, with an eyeroll but a soft smile.
Turning back he carried on and her heart felt like it was being tugged from her chest. Tied to his by an invisible string.
Please come back to me, she whispered inside her head. I can’t do this without you.
I love you.
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PART 12 - still to come
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Sorry guys, I don’t know why these two just can’t have nice things 🙈 Or why their love language is arguing 😂 But there we go, it just is! Also if you want to see Holly’s tattoos I made a little moodboard of them a while ago.
I live and die by your feedback so please do let me know what you thought in all the usual ways 🤍
Masterlists: CILLIAN | SERIES | MAIN
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look-at-the-soul · 7 months
Text
Love takes two- Part 2
Emmett x reader(Cillian Murphy’s role A quiet place 2)
Part 1
And with this part, this series is complete ✨ until next time my sweet Emmett 🥹
Edit: ⚠️ smut 🔥
Request from lovely anon 🥰 - I decided to mix two different requests for this story (one for each part) because it felt so fitting to Emmett’s background or what at least I imagine it is…anon sorry it took me a while (I always say this I’m slow but I will definitely write it), I hope you like this I really appreciate your beautiful idea and here it is finally 👏🏻
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“Are you alright?” Alex asked, but Emmett wasn’t listening, his hands clasped together covering his mouth as if he was trying to prevent himself from saying something he would regret. “Emmett?”
“I made a mistake, right?”
Alex sighed, under different circumstances she would’ve teased him endlessly. But after watching the pain in his eyes, she decided to wave the white flag.
“We’ve never been close or crossed more than a few words, but if you took a closer look, you’d realize a lot of things.” Alex explained, deciding it wasn’t her place to speak on her friend’s behalf. “I can only suggest wait for her and have a long chat.”
She then explained Emmett she needed to go away.
Time was irrelevant at this point, five minutes felt the same as an hour, Emmett was having an internal battle. Should he keep his mouth shut and allow you to be happy with someone else while he stepped aside, or should he express his feelings towards you? Deflated he decided to wait for you sitting on the steps, his forearms hanging over his thighs while his gaze was fixed on the ground… afraid of losing his only chance to be happy.
Terrified of losing you.
To your own surprise, you realized Mark had a joke to everything and a wicked sense of humor. But a date in this new life consisted of handmade sandwiches in a basket and a walk down the beach, resources and options were kind of limited.
“You’re kind of quiet.” He pointed out after a while.
You looked away from him, realizing no matter how much you tried, your mind couldn’t stop comparing him to Emmett, the way his eyes weren’t that blue or his smile didn’t give you butterflies and of course his laugh didn’t make your heart skip a beat.
Staring into the waves crashing down you couldn’t stop the words from coming out.
“I’m sorry Mark, but it’s not fair to you… even if it doesn’t work out I can’t do this to you.” Giving him an apologetic look, you stood up and started to walk away.
Mark would have been a terrific date and partner, he didn’t have a single bad thing to point out to be honest, that’s why it felt harder. Considering the little options that were left after the invasion, rejecting Mark was letting go of probably the only decent chance you had to start all over. But that’s what you get for falling in love with the one who doesn’t love you back.
Why did Emmett had to get under your skin the way he did?
Trying to clear your head, you shook it. Stopping by the deck and a little voice inside your head scolded you for going to the exact place where Emmett held you while you had an embarrassing breakdown, but he didn’t seem to mind, he only wrapped an arm around your back while his finger stroked your shoulder softly. That night he didn’t just showed you his kind heart but that he was able to make you smile afterwards. After that night it was so easy to trust him completely, you simply loved being around him, everything was easy; he was a practical man, he always had a solution for everything, sharp mind. But you also noticed over time how he slowly started trusting you back, you noticed his guard fell down when you were together.
Taking off your shoes, you allowed your feet to touch the cold water in an attempt to distract your busy mind.
How would you be able to continue being his friend while being in love with him?
“Ugh I’m so stupid.” You groaned to yourself bringing your hands to cover your face in frustration.
Your alone time lasted longer than the actual date to be honest, and after hosting the internal battle between your heart and your mind, you felt wore down so you didn’t make a huge effort to go back home.
But to your surprise you were shocked to find Emmett sitting on the porch.
“Where the hell have you been?” He asked in a harsh tone, making you take a step back.
“Somewhere that’s non of your business.” You replied with the same anger. Confused by his attitude.
“Of course it’s my fucking business, this isn’t a safe place you don’t know people’s intentions, not everyone you meet is good.”
“I’m old enough to look after myself, thank you.” Your hands moved frantically. “I’d like to be alone if you don’t mind.”
“Alone or with Mark?” Emmett pressed with a scoff.
Crossing your arms your answer came out in an annoyed tone. “That’s non of your business.”
“Oh, sorry for bothering you for once!” He spat and noticed the necklace he gave you at your belated birthday celebration, it was resting against your collarbone. “It’s not my fault you’re in a bad mood.”
“Like you even really care.” You shook your head.
“Really? After bringing you here and saving your life?”
“Oh yes, thank you Emmett.” You answered him with sarcasm.
“You should go back into your house.”
“Are you gonna be the guard tonight? In case I want to sneak out?” Your annoyance grew by the minute.
“You know what? That’s actually a great idea, to keep the pricks away.”
“Who do you think you are Emmett?” You couldn’t believe his words. “Why do you even care?”
“Why do I-“ He started to pace around the deck. “You can’t just go with someone by yourself, you should’ve known better.”
“Excuse me?” You gave him a shocked look.
“You barely know that guy, that puts you in a risky situation.” He shook his head, but his energy softened a bit. “You trust too much, Y/N.”
“Are you even listening to yourself?” Hands on your hips, you leaned forward. “I don’t owe you an explanation for what I do with whoever I want.”
That seemed to trigger the anger in him, imagining you being touched by another man, another man’s lips on yours and your body. Emmett felt his blood like boiling.
He completely lost it there.
“Over my dead body.”
Feeling more confused and tired than ever, you sighed. Debating whether to ask him or not again why he cared so much, but his next move took you by surprise when he grabbed your face between his strong hands, one at each side of your face and his lips found yours with such force that it took your breath away. He didn’t even gave you time to react, or move, much less to process what was happening.
“You silly little thing… you don’t understand a thing, do you?” Emmett asked you once he pulled apart, his salt and pepper beard scrapped your chin.
Your brain felt completely groggy, like you had been under the water for the last three minutes and you were running out of oxygen. Words were stuck in your lips as this was the first time you were able to see his ocean eyes from such a short distance, you felt like you would swim away in the depths of them until you could see the spot where the ocean meets the sky…
“I’m sorry… fuck I knew this was a mistake.” He totally misunderstood your silence and got the wrong impression.
There was a tingling sensation left of your lips.
Defeated once again, his head hanging down from the embarrassment. Emmett turned around and was about to come down the steps when you recovered from the shock and grabbed him by the shoulders to make him face you again.
This time around, it was him who didn’t get the chance to react before your lips crashed his down. Your hands keeping him close from the nape of his shirt. It took him a few seconds to register what was happening, but once he did, he kissed you back with everything he had.
His lips moved against yours hard, demanding, roughly, hands trying to get the other one closer -as if it was even possible- a slow but evident growl emanated from his chest as your teeth pressed his lower lip slightly, a pair of strong hands circled your waist in a tight lock to prevent you from pulling apart.
“What are we doing?” You whispered separating barely from his mouth.
“Kissing.” Emmett answered as if it wasn’t obvious.
His sarcastic but accurate answer made you snort. “I know silly, but I mean…”
Now that he had tasted your lips, that he felt your sweet, warmth body against his he didn’t want to waste a minute so he started kissing you all over again, the only difference is that this time he took it slowly, letting the minutes go by. Tilting his head bumping his nose against yours in the process, one of his hands came up to tangle in your curls to keep you in place.
Giving into the kiss and his touch completely, you let him set the pace, enjoying how his lips moved softly, tentatively, your hand moved from his shoulder up to his neck, and then a bit up, taking in the feeling of how soft his beard was. Pulling apart to take a deep breath, his eyes found your full lips.
“After learning you went out with someone else I lost it, Y/N… went crazy thinking I lost my only shot with you.”
Taking the fringe that was in the middle of his forehead you brushed it away from his face in a delicate motion, feeling his breath fanning over your skin.
“I went out with Mark because I thought you could only see me as your friend, but after a few minutes talking I realized it was a waste of time… because he wasn’t you.” You confessed with your arm still linked behind his neck.
He stared down at you, not fully believing what he just heard.
“All this time, I’ve been trying to disguise it thinking how unreal this would be.”
“You never let anything slip away.”
“It’s called secret feelings for a reason.” He rolled his eyes, making you giggle. “I thought I wouldn’t stand a chance because you’re younger than me.”
“And here I had been thinking to do a cartwheel to get your attention.” You stole a small peck. “Sorry for how I reacted, I was angry with myself.”
“That wasn’t very friendly… I thought I was he grumpy one.” He tried to lighten the mood. “Thought the date would go great.” Emmett’s lighted up when you pulled him down for another kiss, apologizing as well for the angry welcome he gave you.
“That made it worse actually, I kept thinking about you.”
“I was so fucking jealous.”
His statement made you feel butterflies not only in your stomach, they were all over your body.
“I really liked when you kissed me like that the first time, all bossy.” You admitted biting your lips.
Emmett blushed, surprised by his own visceral reaction. It was so unlike him, made him feel like he was desperate.
“Emmett, I really like you.” You decided to confess.
“There’s no point in trying to deny the attraction I feel about you, Y/N.” Was this really happening?
“If I’ve learned something after the invasion is time is a precious thing we shouldn’t take for granted, so…” standing up on your toes, you kissed him softly, feeling a rush of heat expanding by your body thanks to his tender touch, you stepped closer into his embrace, feeling the evident bulge pressing against his jeans. Moving your hips slightly back and forward you felt him groan against your lips.
Emmett drummed his fingers on your hips, giving you the cue to wrap your legs around his waist. Once you opened the door, he kicked it making it bang against the wall, the sound made you gasp at first, then giggle and this time, you were cautious enough to close it softly.
“Where’s your bedroom?” He mumbled against your mouth.
“Upstairs to the right.” You tried to wriggle to get down, but his hands held you right in place. “Are you sure you can -?”
“Of course I can, what makes you think the opposite?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“Well… no offense but earlier you said you were worried for being older than me.”
“Shut up.” He stated and showed you how he didn’t even flinch carrying you upstairs, your weight or his age wasn’t the problem. The real problem were your lips on his neck while he tried to walk.
So far you had only managed to unbutton half his shirt, the rest was trapped between his body and your legs. Dropping you gently on the bed, he towered over your frame, undoing the rest of the buttons.
Taking the hem of your dress, you threw it to the floor, right next to his shirt.
“Been dreaming about this moment for so long.” Emmett admitted, allowing his eyes devour your frame.
Smiling by the way he looked at you, the desire you found in his eyes made your entire body tingle from the anticipation. Kneeling on the bed you moved to the edge to take Emmett by the neck and start kissing him once more.
“Tell me what you dreamed about.” You felt the skin of your legs like burning under his touch as his fingers trailed a path up and down. Fumbling with the belt, you sighed contently as his lips kissed your chin, moving along your neck.
“Move over to the center of the bed.” He instructed wrapping an around around your waist to help you. The bulge restrained in his briefs brushed against your hip as he hovered over you, his fingers moving dangerously up stopping at the feeling of the fabric of your bra. “I wondered how would you look…” he started spreading kisses on your shoulder, “how would you feel,” taking your hands, he brought your fingers up to his mouth, his free hand tracing a pattern on your hip, “how would you moan my name.” He was so lost in her, nothing prepared him for this moment, nothing could compare to this feeling.
“I wasn’t prepared with anything fancy.” You whispered explaining why you were wearing the most boring underwear and loved the way small wrinkles appeared around his eyes.
“This is perfect… you’re.” Emmett admitted before settling between your legs. “But let me make it up for the boring expectations.” Leaning back on his calves, he pulled you with him, his blue eyes penetrating every single layer of your body and soul, as his lips explored your neck and collarbone, his hands got rid of your bra, while your hands moved across his back, feeling every muscle under your touch.
“Emmett.” You called him in a low voice, pleading as his fingers teased your nipples, his mouth only adding more pleasure.
But he was only warming up, pushing you down into the mattress again his teasing growing by the minute as he licked the bud in his mouth and the flesh around, not forgetting about the other one as he covered your breast with his palm. Your fingers moved up to tangle in his locks.
“Mind if I take these off?” He asked out of breath as his hand fanned over the elastic of your underwear, his hand then moved to cup your core with his palm making you moan at the sudden contact, the pressure felt delicious and your body’s reaction was now beyond your control. “Have to keep it down unless you want the fucking creatures to hear you, Y/N.” Emmett teased you by tapping his fingers against your still covered clit.
Hips bucking to get more friction, you had to bite your lips to suppress a louder moan, recovering from the unexpected pleasure, you ended up kicking the piece of fabric. But he recently discovered a new hobby by teasing you in bed, and he was planning to take his time with you. So he started kissing your flesh from the valley of your breasts, stopping a ridiculous amount of time on your stomach, every minute passing his beard scrapped dangerously south.
“Emmett please.” You felt him smiling against the inside of your thigh, finding a moment later a mischievous look in his eyes as your eyes locked.
You lost it completely the moment his tongue came in contact with your entrance and traveled up over your folds, finishing at your clit. Clamping your eyes shut, you couldn’t stop the pleasure from expanding through your body. Your hands grabbing the sheets into fits to try to contain the fireworks going off in your core.
Emmett took a moment to take in your features contorting, lips parted while your hair was scattered all over the pillow.
Grazing two fingers over your folds, he found your wet entrance, immediately welcoming his middle finger, in and out, slowly as your walls tried to suck him in. You thought you wouldn’t be able to accept a second finger but the thought quickly disappeared from your mind as he added his mouth to the sensual attack.
“Please… oh! Emmett…” Your hips jerked and just as you thought you would come undone any second, he withdrew his fingers. Leaving you clenching around emptiness.
You wanted to beg him at that point, needed him fill you once more. But as soon as his eyes locked with yours, you knew you didn’t have to ask for anything, as he was willing to give you all. Positioning himself at your entrance, you gasped at the feeling of the tip of his cock.
Leaning down he kissed you slowly, loving the way you were holding his face.
“A part of me is totally embarrassed because I think you’ll wake the entire island up and the other part just feels extremely proud of it.” He chuckled against your neck, feeling how fast your heart was beating.
“Shut up, Emmett.” You shook your head feeling your cheeks burning.
Pushing his hips forwards, it was his time to moan at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. This was much better than any of the times he dreamed about it. After giving you a few seconds to adjust, he started moving rolling his hips, all the way in, pressing the magic button every time he bottomed out. Over and over with one of your legs wrapped around his lower back, making you feel how surreal all of this was.
Pushing he fringe out of his eyes, you hung to him like a life jacket.
“Cum with me, Emmett.” You wanted to see his features as ecstasy exploded inside of him.
Moving your fingers to reach for the point where your bodies were connected, he swallowed your moan, feeling how your body was shaking from the intensity. He exploded mere seconds before you, his load shot into you as his body stilled and it was beyond his control now. Kissing his shoulder you saw him trying to regain his strength to prevent his weight from crushing you down, your fingers tracing over the tattoo on his arm.
“You knocked me down.” Lying down next to you, he was trying to recover, pulling you closer to rest on his shoulder.
Emmett touched the pendant he gave you, his thumb rubbing the edges absently, his mind trying to comprehend the unexpected turn this took.
“It was so hard to keep this feeling bottled inside because we see each other daily… How could you keep this from me?” You asked softly, without a single hint of reproach in your voice.
“I was scared of losing you if you didn’t feel the same.” He explained while you studied his profile. “Your happiness was contagious, it was impossible not to fall for you.”
“That’s funny cos I felt the same, thought you wouldn’t look at me as a woman.” Your hand found comfort on his chest, moving to the rhythm of his breathing.
Emmett ‘s chuckle came out genuinely.
“Chances were low for me with so many young candidates around.” He laughed of himself, it was the best he could do to try to feel a bit less bad about his age.
“Experience won if you want some validation.” You teased leaning on your elbow to give him another kiss. “I hope your batteries are full again.”
Pushing him onto his back, you straddled Emmett, his eyes showed the transition from the initial surprise to the desire he felt. Your hands running up and down his chest, loving the way his thick beard felt against your skin… his lips answering to your demands in the same way.
The freedom of finally admitting your feelings towards each others made everything easier, made things fall into the right place.
The realization of being reciprocated about the secret love you have been developing as you became one again made the two of you accept that no matter what’s happened in your past, the only thing that mattered is that love takes two.
***
Thank you for reading! ♥️ If you enjoyed this little story, remember your feedback it’s the best tip I could get🫙 ✨
Tag list: @lyarr24 @lespendy @elenavampire21 @sloanexx @imichelle-l-rigby @esposadomd @winchestergirl22 @forgottenpeakywriter @forbidden-forest-witch @allie131313 @lovecleastrange @stevie75 @elenavampire21 @onlydeadcells @zablife @cillmequick @raincoffeeandfandoms @nyxxxz (can’t tag) @peakyscillian @camilleholland89 @thenattitude @kittycatcait219 @sherlcrown (can’t tag) @cillianmxrphy @kmc1989 @adaydreamaway08 @darleneslane @shaddixlife @shelbydelrey @tiredkitten @nela-cutie
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beastofburdenxo · 3 months
Text
Master list for Emmett
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Since he's my fave little grungy man ^^
A Familiar Pain
Just A Little Kiss 🚫
Awakening: Hypothermia 2 🚫
Hypothermia 🚫
Close Encounter 🚫
A Closer Encounter 🚫
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cillianhead · 5 months
Note
Hi, I love love love everything you write! Your so talented could you please write something about Emmett. He & y/n have arrived on the island and Emmett can't wait to make love to her without being quiet. Thank you ❤️
You are amazing thank you <3
I love Emmett...
that film was what got me into Cillian. Literally remember going nuts over how hot he was.
Anyway... hope you enjoy!!
Scream For Me || Emmett x Reader
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected P in V, oral sex (m receiving), daddy kink, breeding kink, adult content.
18+ Minors DNI
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The island was safe. You kept repeating in your head, and you couldn't help but flinch as everyone spoke out loud or did something a little too noisy. You just sat and waited for the horrid creatures to get them but they never came because they couldn't swim. Emmett easily talked aloud, it was strange, this was the first time you had really heard him talk so loud. Of course, you'd speak louder than a whisper but never this openly. His voice made you feel all woozy and shy in such a pathetic way.
"I reckon we're gonna head to bed now..." Emmett murmured to the group around the fire, he looked at you, seeing your nervousness. This was only your second night on the island, you still hadn't quite adjusted yet to a comfortable bed and clean clothes... and working showers. "It was lovely talking to you all, goodnight." Emmett patted a few guys on the back, waving politely before sauntering to you.
Emmett picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you gasped at this, looking at the people giggling at you two. They had a small empty house for the two of you to live in, it was nice enough. Nicer than anything you'd find back out on the mainland.
"So quiet," Emmett hummed as he sat you down on the foot of your bed. A look of hunger was evident on his face. "You're such a good girl, Y/N." He knelt down in front of you, torso in between your legs as he peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone.
"Emmett..." You whispered.
"No need to whisper here, sweet girl," He grinned at you. "You can be as loud as you want."
You leaned in, kissing him desperately, the way he pawed at you made you feel weak. Hands slipping underneath your cotton sweater and pulling it over your head, breaking the kiss. "No bra?" Emmett smirked before teeth sank into the top of your left breast, sucking in and creating a plum-colored bruise. He was trying to elicit a reaction out of you, trying to get you to moan, trying to get you to be loud.
"God... Em..." You said through shaky breaths, a little louder this time. He kept marking you until your entire chest was littered with love bites with teeth marks indented around it like some sort of peculiar pattern of rosettes. "Markin' you as mine," He grunted before latching a mouth onto your erect nipple. "Everyone's gonna see ya love, gonna see how you belong to me, and you're my girl" Emmett pulled away from you, pulling off his clean white shirt, revealing his chest hair and the snail trail that tucked itself away under his trousers.
"Emmett... we haven't... had sex in so long..." You bit your lip, thinking about how you had been so stressed and so busy trying to survive that you never really had time to do anything. You thought about how last night you two had separate showers. You had a long hot shower, the first in a long time. Of course, you bathed in creeks but it wasn't the same. You had been given a fresh clean razor when you first arrived on the island as well. Emmett chose to neatly trim his beard but he still kept it long. He knew how you loved his beard.
"I know, need you so fucking bad, feel..." He grabbed your wrist and placed it over his clothed cock, letting you feel how rock-hard he was. You reached up and eagerly tugged down his pants, the ones that fit him so nicely, they were slightly high-waisted and they weren't caked in dirt or old blood. You wondered what Emmett was like before this all started, you wondered how you two would've gotten along, though you quickly remembered that he had a wife before all of this. "Gonna suck my cock? Must be a special occasion, go on, baby, suck me off."
You give a timid lick to the weeping head of his cock, sighing happily at the taste of his precum on the tip of your tongue. "Don't tease." He said firmly. Emmett held you by your hair which was pulled up into a makeshift ponytail. You looked up at him as you slowly wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking harshly and feeling pleased as you see his eyes flutter shut, sinking even further down on his shaft.
Emmett's hips bucked into your mouth involuntarily, you gagged and he moaned at the sight of you. Spit dribbling out of your mouth, lips stretched around his thick cock and eyes all watery for him. One of your fingers slipped underneath your shorts, slowly rubbing at your clit and moaning around his dick as he began fucking in and out of your mouth, letting tears slip down your face.
"I love your little mouth," He grunted deliriously, hands on either side of your head as he fucked it harshly, using you like a fleshlight. "I wanna cum down your throat... fuck... but I need to be inside you." He slowly pulled his wet cock from your dribbling mouth. You gasped in for air, massaging your aching jaw as he stroked himself slowly.
"I want you to cum inside of me... please..." You whispered. He had never done that before, the last thing you two needed was for you to get pregnant during a time like this. But things were different now, you were on the island, and maybe you could raise a baby together finally. "Please... Emmett..." Your glossy eyes looked up at him, pleading silently with him.
Emmett's eyes glazed over, he looked like was high as you slipped your shorts and underwear off, revealing your freshly shaved cunt to him. His jaw fell open as he whimpered, "Fuck, look at that," Emmett let go of himself and approached you slowly, pushing you down and spreading your legs open to look down at this new look for you. "What a pretty little thing... can't believe you did this for me."
"All for you, daddy." You hummed quietly, no louder than you would when you'd fuck in the bunker. He grunted at the nickname as he fell down on top of you, holding himself up with one arm and the other helped guide his throbbing hard-on to your gushing pussy. "Are you gonna cum in me?" "So desperate for it, 'course I'm gonna fuckin' cum in ya," He remarked, pushing into you slowly. "How could I deny you of that? Especially 'cause you asked so nicely."
You arched your back, slapping a hand over your mouth to cover your moans like you always did for him as his cock was now fully sheathed within you. The stretch ached deliciously, pussy clenching around him, begging him to move.
"Fuck..." You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails digging into Emmett's strong shoulders. "Emmett..." You whispered. You were trying your best to stay quiet as he began grinding into you.
"Speak up for me," Emmett groaned, rolling his hips right into where you needed him. "Need to hear you scream for me, baby... I know you've got it in you."
You shook your head, whimpering as he fucked you like a pornstar, panting above you, mouth agape and eyes clearly displeased with your disobedient reaction. One of his nimble fingers slipped down your stomach and onto your pulsing clit, you were painfully aroused, every stroke of his dick brushing perfectly against your g-spot. Your mind goes completely blank, legs squeezing and shaking around him, nails leaving claw marks on Emmett's biceps. You couldn't help but start to scream, he was fucking you so passionately you couldn't hold it in.
"That's it," He breathily said. "That's my girl, tell me how good I'm fucking you." "So good!" You moaned, sounding like you were being railed within an inch of your life. His balls slapped against your ass and Emmett's hands now were gripping onto your hips, holding you tightly, manhandling you into the bed and using you to chase his own pleasure. You were a mess, an extremely loud mess, on the brink of tears at how good he fucked you. "God.... daddy! Oh... fuck... wanna have your babies!"
A sick grin spread across his blissed-out face, high on the feeling of your tight cunt all stretched out around him. "Then I'll give you my babies if that's what you want, gonna cream in you, gonna fill you with my cum every fuckin' night til..." He gasped out, stuttering on his words, you were squeezing him tighter than ever, his raspy tone of voice bringing you closer to cumming your brains out. "...Gonna fill you with my cum every night til... I see you walkin' round all pregnant and glowing with my kid in you."
You nodded your head desperately and cried like a slut, Emmett leaned down and intimately pressed his forehead against your own, thrusts sloppy as you felt the orgasm unleash itself upon you. The pleasure is hot and white and consuming, words incoherent as you scream out. His own seed fills you like an endless fountain, the vibrations of his own moaning in your neck send you further down that spiral of pleasure.
"Oh, daddy..." You're gasping out for air, your hands cupping your own tits as he still rutted into you, almost a bit pathetically, his cum spilling out of you as his seed just kept on coming. "So... so full..."
His eyes are squeezed shut, the veins in his forehead prominent as he slowly begins to come down. He didn't say a word as he collapsed on top of you, catching his breath, sweaty skin pressed against you. "My love... took me so well..."
"I think I was too loud..." You bit your lip, feeling incredibly flustered and embarrassed at how you knew the rest of the island probably heard your late night shenanigans.
"No such thing," Emmett pressed wet kisses along your jaw, trailing them until he reached your lips. "Prettiest thing I've ever heard." He whispered, speaking right into your mouth. "I'm gonna make you scream until your throat is raw, I'm addicted to your sounds."
You could feel him grow hard again and his hungry lips took yours in his again and the screaming began again, this time concealed within a kiss.
-
444 notes · View notes
rowarn · 4 months
Text
PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2
simon riley / reader
FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3
tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI
cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes
note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to &lt;3
you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.
PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k
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Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you. 
But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally. 
You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was. 
Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries. 
“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”
“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.
“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly. 
Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”
He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet. 
Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen. 
You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away. 
You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify. 
“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.
He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”
“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.
“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”
You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat. 
But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing. 
It almost felt like something a husband would do. 
You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that
“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat. 
Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you. 
“Absolutely not,” he says.
Your jaw drops, “Why?!”
“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”
You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since. 
You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.
You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.
True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.
Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.
That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry. 
You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous. 
Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work. 
It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin. 
You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip. 
Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.
You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.
“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.
Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.
“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”
He grunts, letting out a soft sigh  before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”
You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing. 
You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.
Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy. 
You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest. 
You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit. 
But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated. 
Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.
As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought. 
Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him. 
No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again. 
What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants. 
Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum. 
But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided. 
With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night. 
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You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment. 
The ring of his phone was the break. 
“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner. 
You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call. 
“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.
There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”
“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”
“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon. 
“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move. 
“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”
You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”
“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt. 
She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.
“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.
“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”
Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”
That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop. 
Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay? 
He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants. 
But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you. 
There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.
You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.
Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem. 
You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long? 
Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me. 
Please, just love me back.
“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”
He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt. 
He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you. 
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”
He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes. 
Suddenly, you stand. 
“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway. 
He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down. 
He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge. 
Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before. 
He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer. 
“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”
“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.
“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”
“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”
You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes. 
Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.
“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”
You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.
You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.
“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.
He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.
“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”
He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can. 
He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do. 
“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”
“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.
“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”
“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice. 
When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.
“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.
“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you. 
“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”
“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.
“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs. 
He fucking laughs. 
It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down. 
“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”
Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before. 
You dash the spark of hope that it causes. 
He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away. 
Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours. 
It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you. 
Simon kissed you.
“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”
He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”
“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat. 
He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”
“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”
“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”
“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”
He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”
“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”
“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”
You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice. 
But he does, of course he does. 
He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.
“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.
Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to. 
“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”
“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”
“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”
“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”
“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.
“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.
“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm. 
A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.
“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed. 
You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off. 
Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–
“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants. 
“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught. 
He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”
He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.
“Si..?” you whisper.
“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.
“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”
You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.
“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you. 
“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.
He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling. 
You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements. 
His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss. 
After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair. 
One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally. 
All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.
Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?
Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”
Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.
“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”
“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”
You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back. 
Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?
You can’t stop beating yourself up over it. 
But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you. 
You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts. 
Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss. 
“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”
That makes you sit up, “Leave?”
You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.
“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.
“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.
He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask. 
“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.
It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay. 
“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”
“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”
He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible. 
“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”
“I will, Si,” you assure him.
“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”
You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”
He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”
Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.
“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”
He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world. 
True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well. 
You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it. 
All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat. 
You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing. 
Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants. 
There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can. 
You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters. 
This is going to be miserable, you think. 
The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help. 
It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best. 
The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable. 
The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate. 
“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him. 
He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.
“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.
“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”
“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”
“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.
“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”
You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”
He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.
“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”
The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you. 
You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.
Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you. 
“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.
It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact. 
He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.
“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy. 
Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.
You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”
“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”
“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”
“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.
“Huh?” you dumbly ask.
“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.
“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”
He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side. 
“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.
Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again. 
But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.
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“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs. 
You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”
“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”
“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”
He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”
“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel. 
You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you. 
You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything. 
“What’re you huffin’ about in  here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight. 
“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.
“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”
“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”
He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”
“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”
“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.
You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited. 
Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly. 
“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.
He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back. 
He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you. 
You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.
“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.
He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.
Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling. 
You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do. 
“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”
The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras. 
Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.
“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.
You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.
“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”
He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”
He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them. 
You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice. 
You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.
“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.
You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back. 
“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are. 
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Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people. 
“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.
“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.
“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”
He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking. 
“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.
“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.
Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue. 
“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.
Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.
“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.
The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”
“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice. 
So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.
“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.
“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”
“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.
“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”
Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”
“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway. 
When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.
“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.
“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.” 
“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.
“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back. 
He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.
“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”
“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.
You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”
Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”
You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.
“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.
“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”
Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”
“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”
“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.
You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”
Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.
“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.
“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.
“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.
“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink. 
The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses. 
The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person. 
With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient. 
But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on. 
“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.
“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.
“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance. 
You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.
When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed. 
“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”
“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”
“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”
You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body. 
You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.
“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him. 
That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”
“Can I kiss you?” you ask. 
He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him. 
His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm. 
“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.
He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties. 
“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”
You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 
Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.
“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”
You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat. 
You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve. 
You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away. 
A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes. 
With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it. 
“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body. 
You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.
“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”
“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”
“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”
You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously. 
“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”
It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself. 
“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light. 
You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night. 
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“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”
He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”
“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”
He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”
You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”
He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”
Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”
He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”
He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything. 
“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”
You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.
“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”
Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about. 
“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.
“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy. 
He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone. 
“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”
“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.
He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”
“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.
Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him. 
He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.
“Why..?”
“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely. 
“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying. 
He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm. 
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”
“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”
“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”
He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.” 
You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was. 
“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”
“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”
You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”
He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”
You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”
“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”
You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”
“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”
“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”
“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”
“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.
“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”
You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…” 
You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”
Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”
“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”
You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”
He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”
Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?
“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”
Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”
“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you. 
He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”
You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away. 
“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”
With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom. 
You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him. 
“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”
You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”
“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head. 
Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them. 
You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material. 
“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”
“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious. 
His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take. 
Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him. 
Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh. 
“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.���
“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”
His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand. 
“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”
You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants. 
It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced. 
That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good. 
“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal. 
“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug. 
You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your  breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.
“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp. 
His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious. 
He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap. 
“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”
You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are. 
Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze. 
He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.
“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”
“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.
And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body. 
He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him. 
Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”
You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again. 
“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”
His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”
You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows. 
It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger. 
You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention. 
He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. 
“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.
“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”
“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”
“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.
“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”
“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.
You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end. 
“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”
You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.
“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”
“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.
“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”
You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside. 
After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.
“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”
“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”
Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.
It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.
That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.
And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange. 
He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock. 
If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him. 
“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair. 
He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it. 
You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself. 
All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body. 
You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him. 
His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away. 
He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good. 
That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair. 
“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard. 
He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat. 
You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud. 
It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.
This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum. 
Then everything stops.
His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.
“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. 
Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake. 
“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”
That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes. 
“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”
Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.
His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.
“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”
You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy. 
But it’s you. You’re special. 
He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different. 
He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy. 
He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit. 
You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you. 
“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”
You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation. 
When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out. 
He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”
“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”
“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”
“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.
He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it. 
It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock. 
So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you. 
You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop. 
But you don’t. 
You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you. 
Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.
“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.
You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”
“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”
Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail. 
He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax. 
“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”
He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix. 
He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation. 
It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper. 
His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good. 
Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.
“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure. 
“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips. 
You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there. 
“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”
“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”
“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”
You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge. 
It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts. 
You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.
It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant. 
You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy. 
Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises. 
“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”
You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life. 
All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again. 
Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him. 
But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock. 
He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot. 
Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still. 
Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt. 
His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.
“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours. 
“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”
“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”
You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you. 
Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you. 
He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute. 
Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you. 
“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”
“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further. 
His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”
But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much. 
Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it. 
But instead, he does something else.
You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact. 
So he does it again. 
And again. 
And again.
Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it. 
He needs you to cum for him again.
“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.
As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.
He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels. 
Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock. 
You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.
“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”
“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.
It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down. 
But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.
His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk. 
Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.
“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.
“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him. 
“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”
And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent. 
“Alright, love?” he asks.
“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”
He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”
“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.
“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”
You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.
It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together. 
When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him. 
“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.
You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”
“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.
“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”
Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”
You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again. 
“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it. 
And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.
It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him. 
Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him. 
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PART ONE.
do not modify, translate, or repost
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idksmtms · 3 months
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Cillian Murphy Masterlist
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Cillian Murphy Fics
Cillian Murphy & Y/n L/n | Actors on Actors - (Cillian Murphy x young actress!reader - coming soon)
The two biggest movie stars of the summer sit down to discuss all things acting, the success of their movies, and... possibly flirting with each other?
Golden Globes - (Cillian Murphy x reader)
Written from the perspective of press and viewers of the golden globes; how cute are Cillian Murphy and his girlfriend Y/n L/n?! From the red carpet to his acceptance speech, look at what a mesmerising couple these two make!
Directed by Christopher Nolan - (Cillian Murphy x young actress!reader - coming soon)
Looking for your next challenging role, you write a letter to Christopher Nolan hoping to work with him at some point. You never expected to get an audition for his next project, to work alongside Cillian Murphy, to fall in love.
Meet the Kids - (Cillian Murphy x younger!reader - coming soon)
It's finally time for the kids to meet Dad's new girlfriend. Cillian thinks they don't even know that he's started dating again. The kids already know who it is and more. How is this going to go?
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evermore series
1. willow 8. dorothea 12. long story short
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AUs
Don't Jump in the Mushroom Ring - (Fairy King!Cillian Murphy x human reader - coming soon)
There's a reason people tell their children not to jump into a mushroom ring. They say it's a portal into the world of fairies. The only way out? Judgement handed by the king. You were curious. You jumped in...
A Gift from the Sidhe - (Hurt Human!Cillian Murphy x fairy!reader - coming soon)
After a dog walk in the woods ends with Cillian hitting his head and passing out, he wakes up a few hours later fully rested with not an injury in sight. Something doesn't sit right with him, and he returns to the spot the next day, happening upon something he only knew from Irish folklore...
Plié, Jeté, Relevé - (Ballet Teacher!Cillian Murphy x Ballet Student!reader - coming soon)
You may not have been the best ballerina in the company, but you worked hard. Ok maybe the last couple of weeks weren't the best evidence for this but in your defence, there's a lot going on in your life! And maybe Mr. Murphy doesn't appreciate lazy, slacking, ballerinas...
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Emmett - A Quiet Place Part II Fics
Silence - (Emmett x younger!reader)
Who cares about propriety? Everything is gone.
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Tommy Shelby Fics
(Coming soon)
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atrwriting · 4 months
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trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader
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hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was
informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know
as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash
anyway.... here's trust me:
when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.
a lot of it.
and an old building.
the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.
the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.
within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.
until one day. that day.
you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.
mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?
that was dangerous. too dangerous.
even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.
on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?
you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.
when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.
you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.
“ma’am?”
you turned around.
a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.
but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.
you smiled. “another drink, sir?”
“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”
you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”
he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”
you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”
“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”
you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”
he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”
“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”
“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”
“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”
“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”
you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.
“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.
and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.
the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.
billy, on the other hand… did not agree.
one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.
“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”
“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”
you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”
“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.
you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”
the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.
as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.
“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”
“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”
“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”
“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”
“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”
“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”
you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.
the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.
you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.
“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”
you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.
“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”
“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”
you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”
“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”
“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.
through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”
“pay. the. tab.”
he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.
“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”
that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.
“time for you to leave, friend.”
the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”
“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.
the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.
you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.
but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”
you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”
“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”
“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”
“‘s my job.”
“i know… but still,” you spoke.
you were continuing to close before he spoke again.
“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.
“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”
“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”
you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”
“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“
“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”
from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.
he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.
you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.
but he kept that to himself.
however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.
“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.
you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”
to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.
but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.
“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”
“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.
there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”
“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”
you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.
“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.
“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.
if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...
that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.
the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.
“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.
billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.
“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”
a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.
“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”
there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.
you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.
it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.
“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”
jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.
“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”
you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.”
he tipped his hat to you.
“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”
without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.
you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“
“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”
a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”
“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.
you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.
“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.
“knocked,” he bit.
you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”
“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”
you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”
“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”
you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”
you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.
he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.
you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.
no. you couldn't.
you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.
“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”
“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”
“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”
“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.
“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.
billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.
“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”
“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”
“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.
he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”
you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”
he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.
he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.
“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.
“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.
“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.
“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.
you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.
you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.
“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.
you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.
“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”
“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”
“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“
“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”
that shut you right up.
billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.
…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.
“what — what —“ you stammered.
“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”
you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.
“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.
his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.
“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”
billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.
“look at me, sweetheart.”
your eyes glanced back up to him.
like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.
“y’trust me?” he asked.
you hummed in agreement, nodding.
“say it.”
you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”
instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.
that was when his fingers picked up speed.
and, god… did it feel damn good.
“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”
“still trust me?”
“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”
he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.
“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”
you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.
“something — feels —“
“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.
“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“
“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”
and that was it.
the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.
a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.
“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.
“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”
it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”
“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”
“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”
his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”
“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”
he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.
“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”
“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”
you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.
“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”
you nodded, half ignoring him.
but it didn’t hurt.
the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.
“you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“
“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”
“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.
you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.
billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.
that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.
“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”
“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.
“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”
you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”
his hips snapped against you. hard.
maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.
“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”
his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.
“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“
“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”
“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.
billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”
you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.
“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”
you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.
his touch. only his touch.
“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”
the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.
“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“
“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”
he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.
with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.
his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.
he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.
“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“
he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.
“billy — you didn’t —“
“s’alright, darlin’—“
“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”
“that... thing?”
“with my mouth.”
he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”
you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”
he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.
“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”
his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?
“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.
he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.
you tried to hide your smirk from him.
he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.
"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.
he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."
you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.
you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.
"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.
you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"
you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.
that shut him up.
a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.
you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.
but you did anyway.
you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.
"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."
you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.
you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.
from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.
tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.
you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.
both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.
above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?
he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.
"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"
"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.
the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.
"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."
you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.
"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."
you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.
"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"
he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.
"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."
you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."
"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."
you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.
"on one condition," you spoke.
his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.
"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."
"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."
---
what did we think?? xox
-L
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salbei-141 · 11 months
Text
Good girl, stay quiet for me (Emmett x reader) Part 2 to A second chance
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Part 1 (A second chance)
word count: 2.8k
warnings: 18+, smut, age gap (reader is early 20s and Emmett is late 30s), masturbation, voyeurism, angst, fluff, praise kink, very very slight degradation kink
a/n: y’all i am so apologetic if this smut is unreadable, i don’t think i’ve ever written smut before, so forgive me if it’s too horrific lol 
Anyway here’s part 2 of this 2-part series, enjoy!
:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shaking the memories off, you stared as Emmett was drawing one of his sons again - over the last few weeks with each other, you had opened up more about your past lives. One particular night though, you had been sharing a memory with Emmett as he listened intently, holding your body in his arms as he sometimes did now. You had been crying at whatever painful memory you were sharing when you felt his hand come to the side of your face, tilting it up and placing his lips upon yours. You hadn’t pulled away - you’d be lying to yourself if you had said you didn’t like how it felt, even though you knew the age gap between you both was morally wrong. His lips were slightly chapped as were yours - but there was a tenderness to how he handled you - your lips both matching a rhythm, it felt right. But just as things were heating up, he had pulled away, looking at anything but you - it broke your heart, was he playing with you? You wanted to cuss him out, and ask what was wrong but feared causing too much noise, so just let him go. 
You just found yourself watching his back as he turned, collected his stuff and headed out of the hole you were in. What the fuck was that? How could he do something like that and then run with no explanation? You spent the rest of your night curled up on Emmett’s bed quietly crying to yourself, feeling so dejected as you realised you had slowly been developing feelings for the man you now shared your life with - how were you supposed to face him when he inevitably came back? Would he ask you to leave - realising he made a mistake? 
Emmett had walked off, deciding to take watch up on the top floors of the building you now knew as home. He sat, hunting rifle at his side, staring out the shattered windows at the surrounding overgrown weeds. He wanted to scream at himself for what he’d let happen - it was selfish of him. He knew where you had come from and he wanted to protect you - what if you thought he was just as bad as the men before him? He’d been discreetly fawning over you the past few weeks and he knew exactly when he found himself thinking about you in the way that he was. 
It was a couple of weeks into your stay with Emmett and he had gone on a small run for a few necessities - you had begged to go with him, but he had refused, and there was no way you could’ve convinced him. Instead of worrying about Emmett, you decided you could distract yourself - still keeping him in your thoughts. You had laid on his bed - which you now both shared and found yourself taking in his scent, relishing in it as you so often wished you could do. The day you met him you knew he was attractive, and the attraction to him had only grown since. You had countless restless nights, trying not to wake Emmett from his sleep as you’d feel a pool of wetness developing between your legs, aching for Emmett who lay peacefully next to you. On this particular day though, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasies you had been having of Emmett while no one was around.
Gently running your hand under your shirt and up to your chest, you placed your thumb and forefinger on your nipple - rolling it with tender pressure - letting a soft breath out at the thought of Emmett. You dreamed of how Emmett’s lips would feel on your breast - the sensitive buds being graced by the desperate sucking of his mouth. Not being able to tease yourself anymore, you moved your hand from your breasts to your neck, keeping a steady grip - only if it was Emmett’s hand - you felt feral, losing all sense of logic at the thought of the calloused caresses Emmett’s hands could provide. With your other hand, you trailed it down your stomach, reaching the band of your underwear, letting a soft whine out. Pushing beneath the band of your underwear, you glided your finger over your clit - your whole body was so sensitive - it had been so long since you’d been able to feel pleasure. Rubbing your clit in gentle circles, your mind was still focused on Emmett and how he’d feel between your legs. Trying to keep as quiet as you could - only letting the softest of moans escape your lips, you sped up, feeling as the heat in your abdomen intensified. Removing your fingers from your clit, you inserted them inside yourself, feeling the way your walls throbbed with a dire need to be filled by Emmett. As you effortlessly pumped in and out of yourself, hearing the way your pussy would squelch as your fingers continuously worked it - you could hear it echoing within the small room you were in and a part of you wished Emmett had been here to witness it. With a few more pumps of your fingers, you felt the coil in your abdomen tightening up and with one more push, and a quiet moan of Emmett’s name, you felt the coil snap as your orgasm rolled over your body, causing your thighs to tremble as you whimpered at the loss of your fingers, still not feeling like you had been full enough, to begin with. Letting out a final quiet breathy moan, you rolled onto your side and made quick action at cleaning yourself, and bringing your heart rate down to normal before Emmett would be back. However, unbeknownst to you, Emmett had heard your breathy moans as he was about to slide back into the pipe. Instead, he had found himself growing hard in his trousers - trying to keep himself at bay, feeling like he had intruded upon you, but he was entranced by your sinful sounds and couldn’t move. The moment he had heard your quiet moaning of his name, however, he had lost all control and found himself pulling his cock - leaking with precum - out of his trousers. He gripped his cock pumping it with his hand, managing to keep his grunting to himself - avoiding alerting anything potentially around them. He continued this until he felt the pleasure in himself building and with a final pump, hearing as you started to move about with quiet, fastened breaths he had cum onto the floor beneath him, keeping his breathing steady as he put himself back in his trousers. Deciding an appropriate amount of time before he went back down, he realised how much of an issue this was about to become. 
It had been a few hours now since Emmett had left to watch over the abandoned train station you were kept up in, and minute by minute it dawned on him just how much of an asshole he was. You had kissed him back - you clearly felt something for him, and he had just stood and left you without looking back once. He was hardly acting like an adult right now, and he needed to check up on you - he cared for you, a lot. 
Treading cautiously back to you, he found your body curled up in the bed you now shared - you were lying on his side with the blanket pulled right up to your chin. As he walked forward, he saw the dried tears you had quietly cried as he had left you temporarily, and his heart broke. How could he hurt you like this? You didn’t deserve to feel such pain, and he was damned if he was about to let you go any longer not hearing from him.
Feeling as the bed dipped and someone started gently stroking your hair, you stirred from the nap you were having and opened your eyes, meeting Emmett’s gaze. He looked guilty, and a part of you was glad, but it also made you feel bad seeing him like this. 
“Can we talk?” his tone was weary, he wasn’t sure how you were feeling and didn’t want to further cross any boundaries. 
Sitting up, you gave a quiet reply, sleep still tangled with your mind, “Of course.”
“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve being treated like that and - ...and I don’t regret kissing you one bit,” he stared directly into your eyes, a sudden heat spread throughout your body at the small confession, “but I understand if you don’t want this to happen again - you’re a lot younger, and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t back out if you regret this, I shouldn’t have been so selfish in my desires, I’m sorry.” A sudden feeling of vulnerability overcame Emmett, and he couldn’t bring himself to hold eye contact with you anymore - instead looking at the wall. 
Staring at his form, you decided to ask, “And if I don’t want this to continue, will I have to leave?”, you weren’t serious, but you wanted to know.
Snapping his head back to you, his eyes were wide - did you believe he’d let you just go back out alone? “No of course not y/n. You’re staying here with me, and that’s final. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever, as long as I can see you, I know you’re as safe as you can be, and I couldn’t give that up.”
You raised your hand, placing it on his cheek, feeling as he leaned into your touch, “Well it’s okay because I don’t think I’d ever want to leave you, Emmett.” Emmett’s eyes flittered back up to your own as you continued, “I care about you a lot Emmett, this is the first time since...since Dad that I’ve felt genuinely safe, and I couldn’t think of anything more painful than not continuing whatever this is with you.”
He couldn’t take it anymore, and any worries that were once present had now dissipated into thin air - it was just the both of you now. His lips were back on yours again, and this time they were more fervent than before. Letting out a quiet moan of shock, you reciprocated quickly, moving your own lips to join in a passionate kiss. Callous hands pawed at the sides of your waist - he couldn’t hide his desperation as he gently bit down on your lip, causing you to let out a soft gasp, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth - both fighting for dominance, until you inevitably lost and you felt his grip tighten. Pulling back for air, the both of you lay your foreheads against each other. 
“Are you sure you want this?” Emmett wanted you - it was clear as his cock had started to harden in his trousers. 
Without another word, you pulled him back into a kiss, slowly rubbing at his cock through his trousers - you had been dreaming of this for weeks, desperate to be filled by him. Feeling a growing wetness pool in your pants, you pulled your shirt over your head, breaking the kiss and feeling Emmett’s eyes hungrily staring at your exposed body. Pushing you back onto the bed, Emmet laid above your body. Bending close to your ear he whispered, “Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, yeah? Can you do that for me darlin’?” Your pussy clenched at his words, you didn’t think his voice could have that much of an effect on you, but you were glad to have been proven wrong. Moving back to your lips, he moved to your neck, trailing small love bites down to your chest, making you let out quiet breaths - being careful to not make too much sound. Bringing one of his hands to your breast, he massaged it gently as his mouth came down to suck on your unattended nipple. Biting down on your lip, you started to feel yourself grow desperate to feel him inside of you - you couldn't handle any more foreplay, you needed him.
“mmm please” you quietly moaned out, cautious not to break your one rule.
“What was that darlin'? Use your words like a good girl.” his hand had dipped beneath the waistband of your trousers and into your pants as he lazily circled your clit, drawing out the smallest of whines from you. His cock was straining painfully against his jeans, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could deal with it. 
“Please I need you in me, I can’t wait anymore, please” He couldn’t deny your pleas - you sounded so desperate and pretty.
Pulling your trousers off in a singular swift motion, he placed gentle kisses on the insides of your thighs, teasing you before he pulled your underwear off and flung them onto the floor. Sitting back up, Emmett admired your naked body beneath him as he sat fully clothed still - you were beautiful, how had he got so lucky to have you? Before you could whine anymore, Emmett ripped his own clothes off, pressing his lips to yours to silence you.
Gently lining his cock up with your pussy, he gently pushed his way in - noticing the way your face contorted in pain.
“I’m sorry darlin’, you tell me to stop if it’s too much. You’re such a good girl taking me so far though, such a good slut for me.” his gentle degradation and care for your wellbeing had your pussy clenching around him already as you were suppressing desperate moans. 
“no it’s okay, keep going, feels good, just hurts a little - I can take it” You looked up and him doe-eyed and it took everything in him not to slam into your tight pussy and have you panting for air.
Pushing himself further, he whispered gentle praises into your ear until he was buried inside of you. Stilling himself, he checked if you were okay, and the moment you reassured him, he was pulling back out, before he’d push back into you with military-grade-like precision. Trying to suppress his own grunts, he placed a hand over your mouth to suppress the lewd sounds that came from your mouth. 
“You’re being such a good girl for me, taking me so well, fuck.” continuing to pump into you, Emmett could feel the tension in his abdomen starting to tighten as the lewd squelching of your pussy echoed in the small room.
“I don’t know how much longer I can go darlin’ you feel too good”
“s’okay, can I touch myself please, I need it” Your desperation and asking for permission almost pushed him over the edge. With a nod of his head, Emmett admired as you placed one hand between the both of you and started circling your clit as he continued to penetrate your pussy. Unable to control the subtle whimpers, you could feel your orgasm building in your stomach - circling your clit faster as Emmett placed his lips back onto yours.
With a final pump, your orgasm overwhelmed your body and your thighs shook against Emmett as he let you ride your orgasm out on him - you felt cock-drunk cumming over his cock as he praised you through your orgasm. As your walls continued to spasm, Emmett pulled himself out of you, hearing your quiet whimper of displeasure at the loss of fullness, and he continued to pump himself until he came on your stomach with a quiet grunt that had your pussy clenching around nothing. 
Getting ready to clean yourself up, Emmett pushed your body back down and without saying a word went to get a cloth that he soaked in water and came back to clean you from his cum.
Smiling up at him, you stared as he came back to lay next to you, still not sharing any words, just being pulled into his chest, and basking in each other’s comfort, not needing to talk just yet.
Letting out a breath, Emmett tilted his face to look into your eyes, “I hope that was good enough to make up for earlier”. 
“Yeah, it was. Better than good, thank you.” Nuzzling into his chest, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, feeling safe in Emmett’s arms. 
“Go to sleep pretty girl, you deserve it.” Giving your forehead a peck, Emmett pulled the both of you down further into the bed, watching as you closed your eyes until your breathing evened out. Smiling at your relaxed, sleeping state, he whispered an “I love you” into your hair - his confession falling on deaf ears, feeling himself relaxing enough to fall asleep intertwined with your sleeping figure.
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