a/n challengers changed me, so have this drabble <3
----
the soft sound of rubber soles making their way across the court startles you more than it should. it's bad enough that you're running so late you had to change in the library bathroom and that you're still putting on your tennis shoes. you don't need anything else making you seem un-together.
"you know..." patrick's closer than you thought he'd be, his racket dangling by his side, just barely scraping the ground you're sitting on. you let your fingers rest between your ankle and the back of your shoe as you look up at him. "you took so long we started to think you were standing us up."
the sentence feels lighthearted, but that doesn't keep unease from prodding at you. your friendship with patrick and art is still new enough that the wrongness of being late feels sharper.
"oh, no," you shake your head slightly in an attempt to emphasize your point. you straighten an arm to rest it on your bent knee. "no, i--the lunch with my sponsors ran long, and i had to change and--" patrick lets you ramble as he bends a knee, slowly moving to sit across from you. he sets down his racket with all the patience in the world, watching you with a lightness behind his eyes that radiates good humor. "and you were joking."
he leans back on one arm before lifting a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "a little, but that sponsorship thing..." patrick angles his head to one side in what feels like mock contemplation. "that sounds important, we should consider ourselves lucky that we made it onto your schedule."
his tone leaves your face feeling a little warmer. you let your attention fall back to your shoe. "no, not like that at all."
"well, i feel lucky," he says, "art, do you feel lucky?"
you turn your neck to look back at art. he's closer than you remember, the toe of his shoe so close to your leg that you'd only have to stretch a little to reach him. he lets out soft sigh before sitting next to patrick. "extremely."
the word borders on flat, a pinch of something you can't quite interpret bleeding into the syllables. his attention shifts away from you and towards patrick. maybe you weren't meant to fully understand. after all, they're life long best friends. and while normally encroaching on that kind of dynamic makes you feel like an intruder, with them, everything's always been comfortable.
"don't." you refocus on your shoes, pulling the laces taut between your fingers. "i'm the lucky one, you guys are great."
"and you're amazing." art breathes out the compliment in a way that feels concrete. real. the words don't feel like a necessary step in a polite exchange, they feel genuine. it's the kind of unabashed praise that's hard not to fluster at. "seriously--your backhand, i've never seen anything like it."
you let yourself smile, ignoring the warmth crawling up your chest. "thanks."
before you can dwell on the exchange, patrick leans forward. his fingers carefully bend around your ankle. patrick watches you expectantly as he extends a leg. you release your laces, letting him lift your foot onto his lower thigh.
"patrick."
"what?" patrick's gaze briefly flickers towards art as he crosses your shoe laces. "i'm helping out our girl." he tugs on your laces, neatly looping them. "ignore him, he's jealous."
you squint at him curiously, feeling like you're missing out on some kind of joke. "really? you think he wants to tie my other shoe?"
"i think," patrick secures a snug knot into place, "he wants to do whatever you want him to."
patrick settles a hand over your ankle. you let out a sound that's more a puff of air than a true laugh. "shut up." you lift your foot in a pretend kick. patrick makes a show of releasing your leg, holding up his hand as if to convey innocence. you pull your leg back. "don't make him sound so lame."
"yeah," art echoes, leaning towards patrick, "don't make me sound so lame."
patrick grins as he shoves art's shoulder. he pushes himself to stand with no warning. "c'mon, let's play."
you reach over for your other shoe before bending your leg. it takes no time for you to pull on but before you can adjust the laces, art's by your side. he pulls on your laces until your shoe feels secure. "too tight?"
with the way he's studying you, it takes you a moment too long to react. you shake your head once. "n-no, that's good."
he angles his head downwards, attention returning to your laces. "good."
art smiles as he squeezes your upper calf in an almost startling display of affection. he pushes himself to stand before offering you his hand.
——
lmk if you liked this, i have so many thoughts about them
I fully forgot I had this .. so here’s a little something for y’all lol
prompt: Jonathan calls you up after having a few drinks
WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), mentions of alcohol/intoxication, brief mentions of suicide, subby-ish Jonathan, phone sex, come eating
*not proofread & old as hell*
you’re abruptly awoken by the phone ringing. through squinted eyes, you peak at the clock sitting on top of your nightstand.
1:03 am flashes at you. who’s calling at this hour? you drag your body out of bed and trudge your way over to the living room where your home phone resides. once there, you drop to the couch and grab the phone, putting it up to your ear.
“hello?” you groan, you hear a small snicker on the other end.
“hiii babyyy!” they respond, clearly a little tipsy, you immediately recognize the voice.
it’s jonathan, your close friend, who had recently got placed into a psyche ward after attempting to kill himself. you hadn’t heard from him since he had told you the news. now here he is, ringing your phone at 1 am, while simultaneously dropping a “baby” bomb on you.
“jonathan?” you blurted, feeling yourself become a bit more awake, “what are you doing? why are you up? how do you even have access to a phone right now?”
he sighs into the phone, “me and toby sn- toby’s m’pal .. by the way .. we snuck out ‘n had a few drinks ..” his mumbles, “now ‘m allllll alone ..” he whines, dragging out the all to emphasize his loneliness, “oh ‘n about the phone .. since i’ve been so good they gave me a landline, cordless too, i mean they couldn’t give me a cord ‘cause i might wrap it around my neck, but it’s nifty!”
you roll your eyes. of course he’d do some shit like this. if it was any other friend, you would’ve told them bluntly that you’re not in the mood to talk, but jonathan was an exception right now. he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and his comment about wrapping the cord around his neck grounded you back into reality. you decided to chat with him for a while.
“is that so?” you reply, “how’d the night go?”
“fun!” he bubbled, “oh m’god .. me and toby .. my friend .. we saw this piss drunk guy fall in the street!” he giggles while recounting the incident. you giggle with him, not so much at the story, but at the fact that he felt the need to reiterate that he has a friend named toby.
“that sound very funny, jon, but shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”
he whines, “‘m not tired! plus i’ve been thinking about you .. that’s why i called .. wanted to hear your voice ..”
oh?
“why’d you wanna hear my voice? you miss me that much?” you joke, relaxing more into the couch. he hums, “jus’ like how it sounds ..”
“well. you woke me up, and i don’t think i’ll be able to go back to sleep, so you’re welcome to listen to my voice for a while.” you chuckle softly, not thinking too heavily about his intentions. he’s drunk, after all.
“hmm ..” he mumbles in approval, “can you jus’ talk? tell me about your day, love ..”
your brows furrow a bit at the request, but you oblige.
“i didn’t do too much .. just showered .. picked up a bit .. it was nice though.”
he groans quietly at you mentioning showering.
“mmh .. wards got no nice soaps .. i like how your soaps smell. always smellin’ so good ..” he murmurs, through the phone you can hear some minor rustling, but you assume it’s just jonathan drunkenly tossing and turning.
you laugh at his odd compliment, “you think i smell nice?”
“oh, i think a lot of you s’nice, darling.” he assures, his breathing becoming heavier
“what else about me is nice, jonathan?” you ask, thinking he’ll say something corny like your humour or your personality.
“that face f’yours .. gorgeous ..” he giggles and huffs, “‘n that body .. maybe it’s ’cause ‘m all alone .. ‘n a bit tipsy .. but i can’t stop thinkin’ about touchin’ you ..”
oh.
you’re not too sure what to say. you’ve been friends with jonathan for years, you would have never assumed that he wanted you that way. jonathan was very attractive, and you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him in a sexual way before.
“jonathan ..” you reply calmly, “i think you’re just drunk and confused, how about we talk more tomorrow? you can call me when-“
he whines, “no, baby, ‘m sorry .. i’ve just wanted you .. for so long ..” he hums as his breathing becomes louder, “‘n now .. just your voice got me s’hard ..”
you pause, listening to jonathan, you still hear the shuffling and his breathing. occasionally he whines a few times, is he touching himself?
“jon, are you .. getting off right now?”
he chuckles, “s’hard .. mmh .. thought i might faint.”
you hate to admit it, but hearing jonathan’s neediness got you a little worked up. knowing he was hard just from your voice ignited some interesting feelings from within you.
as your mind is racing, jonathan speaks, “if i w’s there .. would y’touch me?”
your heart begins to pound, his words have become more direct. he’s not just rambling about how he feels, he wants to know how you feel. you slip one of your hands into your panties, feeling how slick you’ve become from jonathan’s words. you might as well get yourself off as well.
instead of answering, you flip the question. “i’m wondering what you’d do if i was there.” you laugh breathily as you gently rub your clit. jonathan whines into the phone, “god, baby, s’filthy. y’don’t even wanna know ..”
“tell me. i want to hear it.” you pry as you become more aroused, hearing jonathan moan weakly at his own thoughts.
“mmh .. wanna eat your cunt .. make y’come at least once on m’face ..” he groans, “wanna fuck you. raw. make y’shake ‘n cry from my cock. wanna make that cunt feel so so good.”
jesus. really didn’t take much convincing for him to spill his thoughts. you bite your lip at his words, hearing his fantasies made you blush embarrassingly hard.
“hm .. yeah?” you moan into the phone, rubbing your clit at a quicker pace
“‘n i wanna eat you again after my cocks been ‘nside you .. lick up our come ..” jonathan gasps, through the phone you can hear him fisting his now slick cock. “then i wanna kiss you when m’done ..” he adds, chuckling a bit.
“god ..” you sigh, “you are filthy.”
you’re finding it difficult to hold back your moans, you almost want jonathan to hear them at this point.
“you .. you got me all wet, jon ..” you admit a bit awkwardly, you’ve never had phone sex before, but you don’t think jonathan will notice.
he whimpers “are y’touching yourself, baby?”
“yeah .. yeah i am ..” you purr, sliding a finger inside yourself and moaning softly as you plunge it in and out.
“jesus, fuck ..” he huffs, “you rubbin’ your clit? or fingering yourself?”
“i’m doing both .. switchin’ every now and then ..” you coo, adding a second finger inside. you hiss slightly at the change, but your cunt quickly adapts and accepts the second finger.
“mmh!” jonathan moans, “s’hot, knowing you’ve got y’fingers all over that pussy .. you sensitive, baby?”
he’s really into calling you baby. although it feels foreign, you’re not opposed to it at all.
“yeah .. a bit ..” you chuckle breathlessly as you remove your slick fingers out and bring them back to your clit.
“oh, fuck ..” he whimpers loudly, “baby, baby, ‘m not gonna last- m’sorry ..”
you could tell from jonathan’s tone and desperate little whimpers that he was close, he didn’t need to tell you, but it’s kind of nice that he at least let you know.
“that’s okay, come jon. show me how good it feels.” you purr. he can’t physically show you, but he can verbalize it, and he does.
“mmf- fuck, baby, ‘m comin’-“ he moans loudly, you’re worried other people in the ward might hear him.
“that’s it, come on yourself jon, good boy.” you encourage, you’re almost surprised that you called him a good boy, you never expected that to slip out.
his moans dwindle into small little whimpers as he rides out the orgasm, huffing quietly once he’s come down.
“‘m all messy, baby ..” he giggles,
“poor thing, you gonna clean yourself up?” you hum to tease.
“mhm .. nice ‘n clean ..” he mumbles as you hear him making small sucking and licking noises,
“jon, are you licking up your come?” you nearly chuckle at him,
“well no one’s ‘ere to do it for me ..” he whines, continuing to lick away his come.
“jesus. dirty, dirty boy.” you scold playfully, toying with your clit again.
“‘m a dirty boy ..” he repeats while yawning, “dirty boy.”
“you tired?” you ask softly,
“mmh, yeah, little bit ..” he mumbles,
“how about you get some sleep and we talk more tomorrow, all right?”
“mmh.. but i wanna talk ..” he groans,
you laugh weakly at his determination, “i’ll be here tomorrow. trust me. get some sleep. we can talk when you’re more awake and sober.”
“fine .. g’night baby. sweet dreams.” he gives in, yawning again
“sleep well, jonathan.” you close before hanging up. as you place the phone down, you’re left with silence and your thoughts. you decide you might as well get yourself off, and you do, you come in your pants to the thought of jonathan’s whimpers and moans. then, you clean yourself off before heading back to bed.
—
Not to jinx myself … but I am currently writing. Send me good energy yall please
nsfw! (18+) cw: service sub!art donaldson, dom!reader, afab/fem reader, use of ma'am as an honorific, brief food play, oral sex (reader receiving), begging, handjob, brief edging, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms (character receiving), dry orgasm
wc: 6.3 k (whoops)
note: this was pulled from the most depraved parts of my brain. i refuse to be held accountable for the absolute filth this contains ! :)
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.
The very second that your key is in the apartment door and you're finally home, you find your legs nearly collapsing underneath you as you step inside and kick off your black kitten heels.
"God," you groan, shutting the door behind you before you move to peel your chic new blazer off of your shoulders. You toss it onto the coatrack nearby and bring a handful of your fingers up to your forehead to rub at it tensely, sighing deeply.
It had been a long day at the USTA (United States Tennis Association) office, and all you wanted to do was come home and see your husband.
-
After Art had lost several important and consecutive tennis matches, as well as his confidence on the court (despite his actual tennis skills still being phenomenal -- he just psyched himself out too much), he had decided to give up his life as a professional athlete.
At first, this devastated you. Not only did you love your partner and believe in him throughout his career, as well as believing in his very real ability to eventually win the US Open, but this decision of his also meant that your position as his coach would become obsolete..
You actually became quite anxious about you and Art's future at the time.. you had needed a purpose, and so did he. You both were just those kinds of people; you and him both wanted to feel that you were contributing to something bigger than just yourselves, and that you were being useful to someone or something.
Luckily, his many previous years of successful tennis playing had scored you and him a shit ton of wealth. Like, genuinely a lot. You were beyond grateful, but you still wanted a life of your own. You didn't dare to think about the idea of becoming a stay-at-home wife while he went out and did whatever he wanted. Yuck. It just wasn't for you.
Your fears and inner turmoil about this change in your lives were quickly eased once Art had sat you down about two weeks after he had left his tennis career behind. He had taken your hands in his, smiled softly like he always did, and told you that he wanted to stay at home and take care of everything in it while you went out and continued your career in the field of professional athletics.
Of course, you immediately and excitedly agreed with the idea of this new plan, and then that was that!
You two developed new lives and new roles as people over a short period of time, but it didn't take away from the love you two shared. That always stayed consistent and at the center of everything.
Eventually, after a month or so of coming home from your new job to Art doing things like vacuuming the wooden floors of your guys' expensive New York apartment, or making elaborate protein-packed smoothies for the gym sessions that you two still did together, you came to realize that the whole "house husband" persona was actually kinda hot.
He had realized it too. Quicker than you had, actually. In fact, he can distinctly remember the overwhelming feeling of heat that had pooled deep in his gut the first time he had ever served you a home-cooked meal after you came home from a long day at your new job. He had gently rubbed your sore feet that night while you ate, and then suddenly couldn't find a way to deny how this new practice of.. servicing you.. made him feel.
I mean, God, he loved doing that stuff for you.. cooking.. tidying.. pampering.. washing.. he would do it all. You knew that he worshipped the ground that you walked on—reminding yourself constantly of the time he had admitted to you during sex that he believed he would be "nowhere without you"—and you devoured the increased sense of power that came with it every. single. time. It eventually became very easy and comfortable for you to let him take care of you. You grew hungry for it.
And then this persona of his, over time, dissolved into something much more intimate..
-
After tossing your blazer on the rack and rubbing at your temples, you drag your pantyhose-covered feet across the floor and into the kitchen.
Your nose is instantly filled with the aroma of fluffy, vanilla sweetness and a bit of nutmeg. you sigh happily as you turn the corner and see Art standing over a mess of what appears to be flour and sugar in a large bowl on the kitchen counter. He looks over his shoulder briefly with a smile as he mixes the dry ingredients together with a whisk.
“Hey, hon,” he grins, before turning back to look down at his current baking project.
you shuffle up behind him and hug him, your cheek pressing against his warm upper back as your arms reach to wrap gently around his abdomen. You sigh deeply.
“Hey, babe.. ‘m so tired. It was such a long day.”
He laughs softly, which shakes you a bit as you hold him.
“What’d your colleagues do now?”
You shake your head against him, groaning dramatically.
“I don’t want to talk about it.. what are you baking? It smells good in here.”
“Nothing crazy, it’s just some holiday cookies. I found the recipe online this morning after you left.”
“How many are you planning to make? There’s already some in the oven.” you ask, peeking around his frame from behind to see him set the bowl aside and wipe his hands on the apron he’s wearing. (It was white with small pink hearts by the pockets. You got it for him when he started cooking for you everyday, and he used to feel weird about it. He said it made him feel “slightly emasculated”, but he quickly grew to absolutely adore it. It was just another way for you to claim him as your personal chef. One night before you got home, he jerked off while wearing it, but he would never tell you that.)
“I don’t really know,” he shrugs and chuckles sheepishly, “there are twelve baking right now, but I thought that maybe I could make some for our neighbors.”
You chuckle softly, your hands disconnecting from their place on his stomach to reach down and give his ass a small squeeze. He jumps a little at the feeling, embarrassed laughter bubbling up in his chest.
“Where’d all this holiday cheer come from?” you smirk, pulling back from your position against his back to lean your hip against the counter. You just wanted to look at his pretty face. Your eyes quickly fixate on the fact that he’s got a bit of flour on his flushed cheek.. It’s only a small puff and smear of the white substance near his jaw, but for some reason it starts a flame in your lower stomach. There was just something about the way he got a little messy when he cooked or baked for you.
His cheeks plump up in shape ever-so-slightly as he grins at you.
“I don’t know.. I had time before you got home- I mean, well, before i thought you’d get home, and so i thought I’d just-”
You take a step forward, nodding at his words while your body is now only inches from his. You look up into his glassy blue eyes.
“You thought you’d just.. what?” you purr, your hand coming up to caress his lower back.
He swallows thickly, briefly looking down at the mess on the counter before he looks back to you. His body temperature is steadily rising as he feels your fingertips caress him over his loose t-shirt.
“I just thought I’d make some more,” he whispers.
You lean in, reaching your other hand up to gingerly hold the side of his neck while you press a kiss to it.
“You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”
He nods, slowly, his eyelids fluttering slightly at the feeling of your mouth on him.
“I..I mean, yeah, I guess.”
You lean in a bit more, sucking softly at his neck. His head lolls a bit forward, and you nip at him when the sound of his shaky breathing reaches your ears.
You pull back, a small smirk covering your face as you look up at him.
His focus darts from your eyes to your lips as he reaches both of his hands out for your waist, but he’s rudely interrupted when the timer for the oven goes off— cookies are done.
You both nearly jump out of your skin at the sound; the incessant beeping pulling you both out of the thick fog of tension between your bodies and minds.
“Shit,” he mumbles, flushing pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he turns off the timer at the top of the oven and moves to hastily grab an oven mitt from the lower drawer.
He pulls open the oven door, and you step back to watch him pull the tray out and set it on top of the stove area.
He sighs, pulling off the mitt and setting it aside as he leans over the cookies. His eyes are inspecting each one, and he has a very focused expression plastered on his face. He was as much of a perfectionist in the kitchen as he used to be on the court, that was for sure.
Your body moves in to stand beside him, also peering down at the tray of gorgeous golden-brown cookies. You place a hand on his upper back, rubbing it encouragingly.
“These look incredible,” you say, smiling at him.
He nods, still inspecting them, “They look better than I thought they would.. I actually messed up earlier and accidentally added three-fourths of a cup of sugar instead of two-thirds..”
“They look perfect, don’t stress.”
He looks to you, his gaze meeting yours and then suddenly everything was back to how it was before the timer went off. His hands reach for your waist, squeezing at your hips as he looks lovingly down at you.
“Be proud of yourself, Art.. you did a good job,” you laugh softly, your hands reaching up to cup his face. He pulls you closer.
“I am.”
“Are you?”
“Mhm.”
“Good.”
You suddenly get a very filthy idea.
“Can.. can you tell me what the recipe called for?”
His brows furrow slightly as he seems taken aback by your request, his cock already starting to stir to life in his sweatpants just from holding your body. He didn’t want to talk about the damn cookies anymore.
“What?”
You roll your eyes, one of your hands dropping from his face to reach around the fabric of the front of his apron and grope him over his sweats. Your other hand moves down too, but just to gently hold the side of his torso. His whole body jolts forward and his lips part instantly.
“You’ll like where this is headed, trust me. Just talk to me.. tell me what you did to make the cookies look so perfect..”
He breathes unsteadily, his fingers digging into your waist as he feels your hand start to work his cock up to a full-blown, hot, twitchy erection.
“I.. uhm.. I just..” he breathes out, his eyes growing lidded as he absentmindedly bucks up against your touch, still trying to maintain eye contact as pleasure starts to flood his senses, “one cup of b-butter.. ngh-!.. two cups.. two cups of flour… and then- ugh!- two.. two-thir-r-ds.. of..”
His voice trails off, shaky and low and broken as he hangs his head a bit, leaking incessantly into his boxers. It was that easy for you to work him up.
You frown, “Uh oh.. come on, baby, don’t go nonverbal on me that quick.. we’ve just barely gotten started…”
A small whimper leaves his chest as he tries to finish his words, “Two-thirds, I m-mean- three-f-fourths of a c-cup of.. s-su.. sugar… one teasp’of vanilla.. and.. o-one.. teaspoon of nutm-eg.”
You smile, stroking his cock over the fabric of his pants, “Good boy.. God, you’re so pretty when you’re slurring for me..”
He moans obscenely, melting at the praise while he feels his length grow suddenly intensely hot. A certain kind of numbness starts to creep over his crotch before his hands are flying from your hips to your wrist.
“Wait! W-Wait!” he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he blows a concentrated shaky breath from his lips, his fingertips digging into your arm.
Your eyebrow lifts and you smile as you take in the way his body shakes and shudders as he holds it in for you. He knows how to behave.. what would make you happy.. what would make you disappointed.. After all, he’s been trained by you in more than just tennis.
“Close?” you whisper.
His body starts to slowly relax again as he regains some of his composure. He blinks his eyes back open slowly, looking into yours.
“Very,” he groans.
You pull your hands from his body, and he whines softly.
“Take off the apron. Put it on the floor.”
You’re sure you’ve never seen him move so fast— his hands reaching behind his back and undoing the tied string. Then, he pulls the apron off over his head, tossing it off to the side. He watches you study him with parted lips, and he bites onto his own.
“Now take your sweats off for me.”
He does as he’s told; his shaky fingers reaching down to slip his pants down to his lower thighs, and then down to his knees and ankles, and then he steps out of them. He kicks them gently next to where the apron was thrown, now making a mess of grey and white fabric where both items pooled on the kitchen floor.
You step close to his body, cupping his face before running a hand through his messy strawberry-blonde locks. But it doesn’t take long for your eyes to travel solely down to the bulge prominently pressing against the inside of his navy boxer briefs. You run a fingertip up and over the outline of his dick, relishing in the way it makes him shake. He was now just in his tee shirt, boxers, and white socks, while you stayed fully clothed. But not for too much longer.
"My pretty husband.." you coo to him, making his lips part to let out a few uneven breaths. You glance around his frame and notice a bowl off to the side that had remnants of the soft cookie dough from the first batch of the cookies. You smirk.
You lean forward and swipe your thumb along the inside of the bowl, gathering some of the sugary, buttery mixture on your digit. His gaze remains lidded and locked onto your face, not finding any importance in your hand's movements at the kitchen counter. You bring your thumb back in, showing him what you did.
He spares your thumb a quick glance, but then his eyes are back on yours, and then your lips, and then the way that your breasts are peeking out from the low-cut collar of your work top. You bring your thumb up to his mouth.
"Open," you whisper.
He does as he's told, parting his lips further and leaning in to encourage your finger to slip past them.
You push your cookie dough-covered thumb into his mouth, feeling him immediately begin to suckle on it; his tongue swirled over it, and his eyes fluttered shut right after they began to roll back. His brows furrow, and a couple of faint whines bubble up out of him as the taste of his homemade sweetness melts seamlessly on his palate.
While your thumb is in his mouth, you push it down softly on his tongue.
"Knees, baby," you say breathlessly.
Art knew this command like the back of his hand.
Effortlessly and steadily, he dropped down to his knees one after the other, keeping your digit in his mouth the entire time. He didn't dare let it go. He moved to sit on his calves.
"Good job.. good boy..."
He whimpered, the vibrations of his pathetic sounds causing your hand to buzz slightly.
"I want your mouth on my cunt.. can you do that for me, darling?" you purr, running your hand through his hair for a moment. He nods around you.
"Y'sh, m'm.." he mumbled, trying his best to speak while still relishing your touch with enough attention.
You pull your thumb from the heat of his wet mouth, and smirk as you watch his lips chase after it.
"What was that?"
You already had a good idea about what he had murmured, but it was just.. best to be sure.
"Yes, ma'am," he gasps out softly, his eyes glazed over.
He reaches up and pulls at your skirt, shimmying it down and over your ass and thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. You kick it aside, and lean your back against the countertop. Art positions himself on his knees so that he's on the floor in front of you, looking up at you. His hands shakily reach up to the sides of your pantyhose, his tongue licking out over his bottom lip. He digs his fingers into the taut fabric and looks up at you once more, beginning to pull them down.
Immediately you grab his wrists, halting his movements. His eyes look up into yours, worried that he had made a wrong move, but you shake your head with a soft smile.
"You can rip them."
He doesn't even mean to, but he moans when you give him permission to be a little desperate right now.
In an instant, his strong hands are pulling needily at your tights, causing them to rip from your crotch to your lower thighs. He hooks one of his index fingers into the inside of your panties, his thighs tensing up at the feeling of your wetness, and then he's pushing them to the side. His tongue rests out over his bottom lip as he leans in, holding the back of your leg with his free hand as his eyes flutter shut and he engulfs your heat with his mouth.
"Oh, fuck-!" you yelp, reaching down to tangle your hands in his soft curls, "fuck, fuck, that feels good, Art, don't stop.."
He moans, his eyes squeezed shut as he lathes his tongue up and down and over your wet hole. He lewdly sucks and swallows your slick that's quickly spilling over his tongue, trying to focus harder on your pleasure (and less on the feeling of his cock throbbing rapidly in his boxers.. he can feel himself leaking).
You remove your hands from his hair and move to unsteadily grip the countertop, your back pressing hard against it. Art hums around you in his mouth, moving his tongue up to lick sloppily at your clit. He opens his eyes, his brows furrowed, and looks up at you.
"God, you're so good at this.. you're doing so well.. i'm getting.. close.." you breathe out, studying the upper half of his face while the lower half remains buried in your pussy.
He doubles his efforts, smushing his face deeper against you, his lips pursing to suckle against your sensitive nub as his grip on your leg tightens. Art has half a mind at that moment to just scoot forward a bit and slot your ankle between his thighs, but he won't. You came first, in his mind. Literally, and figuratively.
You sling the leg that he's holding over his shoulder, giving him more access, and then you begin to feel an overwhelming, hot numbness creep over your lower half..
"ANGH!" you moan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as your body begins to shake. Your fingers grip the kitchen counter so hard that you're afraid you'll break a nail.
"I'm going to cum, Art..!"
"Mm! Mm-mm!"
"I'm.. oh my god.... I'm... I'm-! Cumming-!" you whine, feeling your orgasm crash over you.
"MM-!" he laps at your pulsing cunt, squeezing his eyes shut before forcing them open so that he can watch the way your beautiful face moves to contort in ecstasy.
You groan and whine as your orgasm's aftershocks are uncomfortably prolonged by Art's relentless tongue, and your hands release the marble countertop to reach down and grab two soft fistfuls of his hair. You try to tug his head back from your cunt, but he just closes his eyes and presses his nose and mouth further against your core. The repetitive movements of his tongue over your folds cause lewd, wet noises to fill the kitchen.
"Art... A-Art..! Enough!" you slur out as the pleasure from before starts to melt into a prickly sting of oversensitivity.
His eyes flutter open and you shoot him a warning glance as he peers up at you.
"I said enough, yeah? " you snap, "stand up."
He immediately pulls his mouth away from your sticky body and stands up on shaky legs. His eyes look downward, guiltily avoiding your gaze, as he wipes at the clear slick covering his chin with the back of his hand.
You try to catch your breath for a moment, studying his chest as it heaves up and down -- him trying to catch his breath all the same. You reach out and take his lower jaw softly in one hand, forcing him to look at you properly.
"You got a little fucking greedy there for a minute.. didn't you?"
He bites his bottom lip for a second, nervously chewing on the inside of it as he debates what answer he could give that would result in the least amount of punishment from you.
"Did you hear what I said?" you whisper coldly, taking a step closer to him as your hand grazes against the erection standing proudly in his underwear.
His body automatically jolts forward, and he lets out a shaky breath as his brow twitches.
"Yeah.. I did.." he huffs out.
You smirk, wrapping your hand around him over the dark blue fabric, "And what do you think, hm? Were you being greedy?"
He looks deep into your eyes, his lips parting as he feels you start to stroke him. He tries to stop it, but his hips start to shallowly buck against your grasp, and now he can't get any words out. He wants to, but he just.. he really can't.
You roll your eyes.
"You know what I want you to say, honey. Use that big brain of yours."
He moans softly, his hands coming up to hold the sides of your upper arms as his eyes grow lidded.
"I'm.. I was being greedy.. I'm greedy," he moans lowly, thrusting into your hand a bit quicker and with a tad bit more abandon.
"Yeah, yeah you are. You're a greedy little whore for this, aren't you?"
He nods slowly but repeatedly as his brows pinch together and his breathing picks up.
"Yesss," he says brokenly, his voice straining a little as his moans start to become whimpers and whines, "I'm.. s' greedy for you.. jus' for you.. mm..!"
You nod and smirk up at him as his face becomes pinker and pinker, "That's it, pretty boy.. good job. You like when I stroke your pretty cock?"
He lets out an obscenely loud moan as his abdomen curls in over itself a bit, his hands gripping the sleeves of your work top and pulling helplessly at the fabric as he feels a spurt of precome burst into the inside of his boxers.
You chuckle a little as you watch him visibly get closer to his climax, but then he suddenly releases the hold on one of your sleeves and urgently grabs the hand that's moving over his clothed length.
You look down to where his hand holds yours, and he lets out a filthy whimper as he pulls your touch off of him and then urgently pushes your hand past his waistband and down into the front of his boxers. You gasp at his seemingly impulsive actions, feeling your fingers finally come into contact with his slicked-up cockhead. Your fingertips just barely brush over his hot, leaking slit.. sliding over a thick glob of pre.. and then he's being sent over the edge. To the average person, the touch would be essentially imperceptible, but not to him.. not to Art. He was just far too sensitive.
Your husband lets out a startled cry as he doubles over your frame in front of him and frantically moans, his whole body trembling and tensing as his balls draw up, "I'm cumming!"
You don't even have time to really process what's happening until you feel your hand being covered in warm fluid, the substance dripping down your fingertips as Art basically comes untouched. You look up at him, dumbfounded, before you feel your abdomen grow warm and tingly. That was kinda.. hot?
"Jesus, baby," you whisper breathlessly as his hips jolt a few more times before stilling as he gulps air down into his lungs, "didn't realize you were that worked up.. that was a little quick, no?"
He moans softly, still feeling your fingers graze him inside of his boxers.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." he says, his breathing hitching in his throat as he tries to get the words out in spite of the pleasure still thrumming through his veins. He was still rock hard.
You smile, quickly using your clean, opposite hand to pull his boxers down to his lower thighs. His length slaps up lightly against his stomach before bobbing out in front of him, a tiny pearl-like bead of cum still leaking from his tip. He sighs shakily as he looks down at himself, and then up at you. You wrap your cum-covered hand around the base of his shaft, causing Art to jerk forward from sensitivity. He pulls a sharp breath in, his face scrunching up a little as he tries to control his body.
"I'll let you cum again," you start, watching his eyes light up, "but! you need to give me a warning this next time, okay? I want a clear warning, love."
He nods at your words, a more serious expression plastering over his face, "I will, I promise.. I.. I can give you a proper warning, ma'am.." he whispers.
And with that, you slide your hand from his base to his tip in one smooth motion, your thumb gliding over the head.
"GAH-!" he shudders forward, hissing in pain for a moment before he starts to moan again.
"You okay? Can you handle this?" you ask, your tone soft but seductive as you try to tease him but also legitimately check in. You two were always good at looking out for the other's wellbeing during your sessions together; the exchange of love and tender-care came easily to you both-- it was never something either of you had to question.
He nods, "Yeah, yes-ss, I can t-take it.." he slurs a little, watching your hand move up and down over his throbbing length.
"Look up into my eyes, darling," you purr, your hand starting to pick up speed, "does it feel good?"
He meets your eyes, his blue ones swimming with lust and desperation as he felt the beginnings of his second orgasm start to creep in, "Yes, fuck-! Yes! It feels so fucking good--!" he whines.
"Remember what we just talked about?"
He nods fervently, sucking his plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his focus darts from one of your eyes to the other. You speed up your hand, squeezing his shaft a little more to give him some pressure that you assume he needs.
He keens instantly, a loud moan rumbling from his chest as his thighs start to shake and his eyes squeeze shut.
"Art," you murmur in a seductive but warning tone.
He shakes all over, nodding his head, before his back stiffens up and he becomes incredibly tense. You keep your hand moving at the same fast pace, hoping his memory today is as good as his stamina.
"I'm going to cum," he whispers quickly, bringing his hands up to hold onto your shoulders as he pulls you closer.
You smile in approval, leaning in close to his ear and breathing warmly against his skin as you speak softly, "thank you for telling me, angel. do you want to cum for me?"
He nods, whining out a hasty "mhm". He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your hot words against his upper neck.
You press a chaste kiss there, and then you slide your hand up to gently grip his shaft while your thumb moves to rapidly swipe over his frenulum.
"Come."
And he does just that.
Art's back arches as soon as your one commanding word reaches his ears, cumming uncontrollably with an abrupt cry of pleasure. At first, his body is incredibly rigid as he lets go, his brows pinched up together as he feels the first, pulsing waves of his orgasm hit him, but then the full sensation of his release hits him and his whole body shudders deeply. He lets out little breathy moans and gasps as he relishes in the bursts of pleasure rolling over his cock. You slow your thumb down a bit as you watch him spurt rope after rope over your hand and onto the kitchen floor as he comes undone for you a second time.
"Fucking hell," you moan, now going back to stroking him fully instead of just rubbing a digit against his tip.
He grits his teeth in an instant, being pulled from his afterglow by the feeling of your hand forcing him back into a feeling of overstimulation.
"Ah-! Ah!.. T-Too much, too much," he whimpers, his hands instinctively reaching down from your shoulders to push at your hand that's currently working him towards a third, uncomfortable orgasm that he's not even sure he wants anymore.
You use the hand that's not stroking him to move his hands away from your occupied one, giving him a small shake of your head.
"Hands behind your back, please. We're not done yet, okay?" you coo.
He quickly follows orders, moving both of his hands behind his back and away from his aching length, although not without letting out a sniffly whine of protest first.
"Please, ma'am.. I'm.. I can't do it I can't do it-- I'm-- AH!"
You cut off his soft moans of agony with a brief squeeze to the base of his dick, looking intently up into his eyes through your lashes.
"If you really want to stop, baby," you tilt your head teasingly, "you can always use the safeword, yeah?"
He bites his lip before he lets out a warped cry, his head lolling backwards in the same instant. You stop moving your hand.
"Art, darling," you whisper to him comfortingly.
He brings his head back upright to look down into your eyes, his face blank with pleasure; he almost looked drunk. His eyes were glazed over, his cheeks were pink, his hair was a mess, and his lips were parted to let out harsh little breaths of air as he tried to regain some semblance of being grounded in his own, ruined body.
You reach your free hand up to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb over the side of his face.
"Does it really hurt that bad? You know that you can be honest," you whisper, now a little concerned that maybe you pushed him too far.
He thinks for a moment before shaking his head slowly and swallowing a bit of drool that he realized has been collecting in his mouth for the past minute or so, "N-Just a little.." he breathes out.
You nod, giving him one soft stroke of his come-covered cock. He gasps and his torso jolts at the sensation, faint tears springing to his eyes.
"Sorry, sorry," you hum, "should we stop here then? I think maybe that would be best for you.. you've already done so well for me.."
The latter half of your sentence, that subtle bit of praise, gives him all the motivation he needs to want to unravel again.
He looks down at his still-hard cock, and then back up at you, and shakes his head. His tongue pokes out over his bottom lip and wets it as he tries to collect his thoughts.
"No.. no, I can do- I can go again, ma'am.. I pro-promise.." he slurs out, thrusting up into your hand.
You raise a skeptical brow at him and his movements, keeping your hand still.
"Are you sure? You know that I won't be upset with you if you want to stop, Art."
He shakes his head again, his lip trembling, "Please."
You smile softly and start to move your hand up and down over his cock again. Despite his previous indications that it was painful, the feeling has now seemed to morph back into unfiltered pleasure as he lets out a high-pitched moan of your name. He babbles endlessly, a mixture of pleas for more, letting out repetitive mumblings of "feels good", and "yes", and an assortment of stuttered expletives.
It doesn't take long for Art to get close again.
"I think 'm gonna come again," he mumbles, letting his eyes fall shut as his head slumps forward against your shoulder. You stroke him quicker, focusing on his hypersensitive tip as you feel a drip of precome come out.
"Oh? You want to come again?" you tease coyly.
You could be cruel sometimes. He had known that this part was coming eventually.
He shakes his head against the crook of your neck with a whine, "don't do this, please.."
You stop your hand at the base of his cock, halting his orgasm just as his load started to rise up his length. Art bites back an obscenely loud moan of protest that is dying to be let out..
"No, no no noo," he squirms against you, repetitively shaking his head as his face remains buried in your neck.
"You know what you need to do, darling."
"Please," he moans, "let me come.."
"You want to come?"
"Yes."
"You do?"
"YES..!"
"How should I make you come?"
"Can y- keep stroking my- I want my cock to be- I-" he mumbles incoherently.
You place your free hand on the back of his head, pushing your fingers pleasurably into his hair as he trembles against you.
"You want me to keep jerking you off? Hm?"
"Y-Yes-ss!" he moans out brokenly, using every bit of restraint within himself to resist the urge to move his hands from behind his back and relieve his aching parts.
He would never do that, though.. no matter how much he wanted to. He would always follow your wants and needs first. Those were most important to him.
"Ask me for what you need again. Nicely; just the way I like it."
"Please, can I come?"
"Again."
He whines, his hips involuntarily bucking up against your stilled hand wrapped around him.
"Please," he sobs, "can I please come for you?"
"Yes, honey, you can come."
You start to stroke his cock once again, and within just a few pumps Art is releasing again. Even though you can't see them because his face is still in your shoulder, his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head as he lets out a couple pitiful squirts of white, sticky liquid over your hand.
"Ooh, that's it.. good boy.. are you my pretty little slut?"
When Art hears this, he isn't exactly sure what happens, but it's like the orgasm that's already halfway finished just completely starts over.
"Ohh my fucking- oh my god-dd-! Ugh! HNGH-!"
It's like every single nerve ending in his body is lighting up at once, and he can't do a damn thing about it.. he can't stop it...
His legs nearly go limp underneath him, and he has to lean further into you to prevent himself from collapsing.
Art then releases the most pornographic moans you've ever heard and tenses up in your hold all over again. You're not really sure what's happening until he--
He whines and sobs against your body, his arms still held behind his back as you feel his cock jump and pulse in your hand again. This time, nothing comes out. It's odd because it's clear that he's cumming for a fourth time, but there's nothing to show for it.
You slow your hand but continue to stroke his length which is now covered in the creamy-white filth of his previous loads. His cock softens a little, but you're unsure when his orgasm ends because, again, nothing is coming out.
Art's frame suddenly begins to jerk around every time your hand brushes over his tip, and he lets out a hiss of discomfort through his gritted teeth and a sniffle afterwards. As soon as you hear that, you know he's done and you quickly remove your hand. Any extra stimulation and he'd genuinely start to cry. You could save that for another time.. if he wanted you to.
You move your other hand from his hair to his clothed upper back and rub small, comforting circles over it.
"I've got you," you whisper, "you did such a good job, baby. You just came dry for me."
He nods, sniffling wetly and exhaustedly.
You continue to rub his back for a minute or so in silence as he comes back down to earth; the pleasurable waves of his release's aftershocks allowing him to bask in the ebb and flow of it all as he tries to calm his ragged breathing.
"I feel weak," he groans softly.
You nod, "I'm right here, you're okay.. take some deep breaths for me, honey."
He nuzzles deeper against your neck and sighs contentedly, the fuzziness in his head starting to dissipate with your caring words and gentle touch.
"You're my good boy," you whisper, pressing your cheek against the side of his head.
"Mhmm," he hums, "always for you."
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.
notes; WOAH. ok. so this has been like months in the making by now i think..? but i finally finished it :D thank u so much to everyone who has been patiently/loyally waiting for this one after i teased it for over a month on this blog 😭 + thank u to anyone who gave me some kind words of encouragement when i had to put this aside for a while. i luv u guys !! <3
— a/n - this is the filthiest thing i’ve ever written hope that y’all enjoy <3. please comment and reblog if you did enjoy !!
— warning (s) - 18+ mdni, pwp, switch!reader & switch!art, nipple play, fingering, squirting, pussy eating, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), subby art in the beginning, not proofread.
— word count - 1k+
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“Looking so pretty for me baby,” you murmur, Art’s teary eyes looking back at you from his place in between your thighs. Your cunt clenches around nothing, the mixture of hearing the sounds coming from him and the sight of him desperately grinding himself against the mattress nearly pushing you over the edge. “My good boy, aren’t you baby? Doing so well for me.”
The blond moans in pleasure, the atmosphere in the room overwhelming him. Art hurriedly slides two long, slender fingers inside of your wet heat, almost immediately hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Love the way you taste,” he whined, pressing his lips to your clit, his tongue slipping between them and gliding over your nub before sucking it into his mouth yet again.
“Yeah,” you quip, tugging at his curls and gently pulling his face from your cunt “Then I’d suggest you get back to it if you want to cum, baby.” Deep groans leave his mouth sending vibrations through you, making your toes curl in pleasure. Your thighs tighten around his head and he wallows in the warmth of you, licking from your opening to your clit and back again. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. He isn’t sure he ever will. Art couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time, between your legs, each thigh on either side of his head with your pussy in his face, he could die a happy man.
Your mouth falls open into a silent scream as you squirt, your cum leaving a sleek shine across the lower half of Arts face. He peers up at you again, mouth still attached to your pussy, not wanting to let a single drop of you go to waste and you can see the cocky look in his eyes. He always got that way after making you squirt.
“C’mere baby.” you sighed hazily, relishing in the afterglow of your orgasm.
Art kisses his way up your body, leaving a final kiss on your clit before making his way up. He presses feverish kisses to your hip bones, leaving a trail of them up your stomach only to stop at your chest. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, bringing his hand to your other breast, twisting and pinching at the neglected nub.
He lets go of your nipple with a pop, “Want to fuck you now. Please, let me.” he cried out, wanting more.
You don’t answer him, instead reaching down to grab his cock and line it up with your entrance. Art slides into you easily with how dripping wet you were. He kisses the back of his teeth, sucking in a deep breath at the feel of your tight walls clamping down on him. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he kisses your lips gently.
“Y’look so pretty when I’m fucking you like this,” his muscles tense as his thrusts quicken. Your walls clench around him at the praise. This exact scenario has played out between you two countless times and each time is just like the first. Hot, messy, gentle, loving. It was the perfect balance.
The blonds hips continue snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, each thrust feeling deeper than the one before. Neither of you could get enough. The headboard was slamming against the wall with how hard Art was fucking into you. It was a wonder to both you and him how there wasn’t a single mark on the wall.
Arts head falls into your neck making needy groans muffled against your skin, grasping his hair you lift his head up again and begin kissing him. It’s a mess of spit, arousal and your teeth are clashing against one another’s.
“‘M so proud of you, y’know that? Win or lose I don’t care.” You whisper once he pulls away. Your words cause the tears to spill over yet again, knowing he needed to hear it you didn’t mind cupping his cheek letting him nuzzle his head against your palm. Turning his head he places a soft kiss to your hand, the simple sign of affection tells you so much. He’s not only thanking you, but showing how much your words meant to him. He’s conveying how much he loves you.
His hips slowed, stuttering, showing how close he is. Reaching down with your free hand you cup his balls, playing with him the way you know he loves. Within moments he’s thrusting all the way into you, spurting hot ropes of cum into you, coating your walls with his warmth. His orgasm and the feel of his fingers feverishly rubbing figure eights into your clit set you off again.
Pulling out of you gently, Art falls to your side panting for a moment before pushing himself off of the bed and leaving the room for a few moments. Once he returns you see the wet washcloth he’s holding in one hand and a glass of water with a straw sticking out of it in his other hand. Walking up to you he sits on the bed beside you, putting the straw to your mouth, “You okay to hold this?” Art gestures to the cup, smiling softly when you nod, taking the cup from his hands.
Sliding down the bed he takes your thigh in his large hand spreading your legs bringing the wet cloth to your core. “Sorry, angel.” he grunted quietly when you wince at the attention to your overstimulated clit. Once he’s done cleaning you up, he wipes himself down quickly, tossing the cloth onto the floor.
Taking the glass from your hands he sets it onto your shared nightstand. Art quickly lies beside you, wrapping his arms around you while you’re curling into his side.
“So good for me,” you smirk lazily looking up at him, pressing a kiss to his pec. Rolling his eyes, Art leans down giving you another kiss smiling into it.
Summary | Being a mother is no easy task. After a long day of muscle pains, sleep deprivation and overall exhaustion—your adoring husband comes home to help.
TLDR - Post pregnancy hormones, pent up sexual frustration and— oh dear god milk?!
Info | SMUT (18+ only), unprotected sex (p in v), established relationship, breeding kink, lactation kink, mommy and daddy kink, impregnation, pregnancy body mentioned, milk sipping and titty sucking (hell yeah)
Notes | posting this now or I genuinely never will. Not my proudest work but here we are. I’m also incredibly aware that I am subjecting y’all to my own weird kinks…Don’t worry! It will only get worse from here :)
This piece is dedicated to my coworker Bay who told me she accidentally took 90 “period cramp relief” pills that ended up making her lactate. Love u girl 🫶🏽
Build Your Own Adventure | you already know ;) tested it out, it’s fiiilllthyyyy
You laid in a ball on top of your bed. Freshly washed linens and clothes circling you like vultures.
You were exhausted, sleep deprived and you ached all over. Every movement made your muscles tense and your migraine grow.
It’s been three months since you had given birth to your little bundle of joy. Right about now though, your child was a lot more like a bundle of terror.
The baby rarely ever slept, too hungry to sleep and too stubborn to latch. It’s not the babys fault though, you knew that. It’s just—well, it’s fucking hard work.
——
You tried your best to wait up for your husband, you truly did. But your eyes grew heavy and your body aches slowly melted into a soft tingle as you fell into a much needed slumber.
You were awoken by the sound of your bedroom door closing. Groaning at the sudden intrusion of your dreams, you rolled over to look at your intruder.
“You’re home.” You mumbled to him groggily. Neil quickly slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed next to you, pushing off the clothes and freshly folded linen off the bed in the process.
You groaned and reached out for it, a heavy complaint ready to be expelled. But Neil just grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it, shushing you with the promise of the laundry being cleaned up later.
“The baby asleep?” He asked while he buried his face in between your shoulder and neck. You felt him take a deep inhale as his fingers trailed down your sore body.
“Mhmm,” you hummed, relaxing at the touch of your loving husband.
“Good.” He smiled and placed a gentle kiss to your neck. You craned your head slightly and welcomed it.
Neil’s soft hands traced the peek of skin that was exposed below your shirt. Lines of stretch marks covered your stomach, but he didn’t mind. He never did, he loved every part of you.
“Thank you for taking care of the baby,” Neil placed kisses along your collarbones.
“I’m so lucky to have you.” Fingers trailed up your shirt to the soft and supple mounds that were your breasts.
You didn’t even realize it, but milk had soaked through the thin layer of your shirt; dripping down and making it sticky against your skin.
“So lucky to have you,” he echoed, his hands slightly trembling, his fresh hard on pressing into your thigh.
You loved the attention Neil gave you, but with how sore your body was from recovering, the constant care of your baby and the ever-growing pressure from the milk trapped in your breasts; you were almost at your breaking point.
“Neil— baby, not tonight.” You protested and gently pushed him away. Neil clung on though, his desire for you borderline insatiable.
“What’s wrong, is Mommy not feeling well?” He cooed into your ear, making you tingle all over.
He had started calling you that—mommy—right after you both found out that you were pregnant. It was sweet for the most part. Mostly coming off as innocent, but when he said it like that—
His fingers tweaked at your sore nipples, always hard and leaking these days. You winced slightly, clenching your teeth and letting out a soft hiss.
“Come on, use your words Mommy.” He teased, making your lower half grow slightly hot as you attempted to fight off his advances.
“I’m so exhausted, my body—“ He interrupted you with the slide of one his hands ghosting past your navel and onto the radiating heat between your legs.
“Mhmm, keep going.” He urged you to continue.
You were slowly getting overwhelmed, your shirt dampening more and more, your arousal slowly building, slowing making its way up a steady hill as it always did.
“My body is overworked, Neil. I-I love staying home and caring for the baby, but with the feeding and the—“ His hand slipped between your thighs, cupping your mound.
“—changing and never sleeping, it’s been so tough.. I’m just so overwhelmed.” You breathed out, little tears of frustration stinging your eyes. You took a deep, long breath in and exhaled.
Neil understood, or at least made sure that you knew he listened to your every word. He was always attentive and kind with you but something about carrying his child for nine months really pushed him into overdrive.
During the pregnancy you had made a habit— or well the baby had made a habit of craving weird foods at the oddest hours. Neil spent plenty of nights standing in 7/11’s at 3 in the morning, or mixing all kinds of weird concoctions that you asked for.
Pickles and ice cream, a Banquets Salisbury Steak dinner, a whole raw onion— you could go on and on.
Massages and bubble baths became a nightly routine for you as well—as Neil insisted. Even closing up the store earlier so he’d have time to cook you dinner.
You thought about these moments as Neil coddled you close to him. Even with all these wonderful things he’s done, there was never an expectation for repayment or a favor due. You simply being his wife, the mother of his child was more than enough.
Neil pushed back the strands of hair that clung to your forehead, you just knew you looked like a mess.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He consoled you as the tears started to build up, you were exhausted and your pregnancy hormones haven’t exactly worn off yet apparently.
“I know it’s been really hard on you since I’ve been back at the store, but you have been doing such an amazing job.” Neil said softly, running his thumbs over your damp cheeks and kissing the top of your head. He wrapped you close to his chest; the damp patch on your shirt now soaking into his.
He cupped your chin in his hand and tilted your head up to look at him.
“You’re the best wife anyone could ask for.” He said earnestly, his gaze passionate and affirming. He always told you this and it never got old. Butterflies would swoon in your chest at the sound of him calling you his wife. It felt like most days you were lucky just to have him.
“But you’re right, this isn’t a job for one person..” He shifted and pulled himself closer to you so you were both eye level.
“Let me take off just a few more weeks, so you can get a break.” He tried reasoning with you but you were having none of it.
“Neil you can’t, you’ve already taken off more time than you should. John and Lucien need you, the store needs you.” You objected. This wasn’t the first time you’ve both have had this conversation.
“They’ll be fine,” he insisted. “Plus I miss you and the baby so much, every minute I’m counting down till I can see you guys next.”
Neil’s words made your heart grow fonder but the answer was still no.
“Neil—“ you protested and finally he caved.
“Okay, okay well at least let my mom come and help, she loves you guys so much and I know she wouldn’t mind.” He offered.
“Are you sure…? I really don’t want to bother her-“
“I’m positive. I can call her tomorrow.” He assured and you pondered over it for a minute. It was a no brainer really, so you agreed.
“Okay..” you relented, nodding your head while he held it in his hands.
“Yeah? Okay.” he nodded with a big goofy smile on his face. He placed a passionate kiss to your lips before peppering your face with little pecks. You laughed, already your dampened mood brightening. He always knew how to cheer you up.
Carefully, he placed himself between your legs, pushing himself up so he was leaning over you. One of his hands traced your hip as he stared down into your eyes.
Your hair had been pulled back into a bun except for the few stray pieces, you had slight bags under your eyes and now even more the milk stain was obvious.
“You poor thing..” He purred, as he took you in.
“Overworking your body to take care of my child..” He brought his hand up to trace your cheek lightly.
“I think it’s time you let daddy take care of you.” He whispered against your ear, making the room grow steadily hotter and hotter.
You looked into his eyes, basically swimming in them as his pupils grew wider with each passing second. He was ready to dive in, to pamper and devour all in one.
Before you could say anything, his hands crawled up your wasted shirt and cupped your enlarged breasts. Every chance he could he’d have his hands on them. Rubbing, groping, licking, pinching—all of the above. It was only lately where you couldn’t stand them being played with and it was driving Neil insane.
You winced and grabbed his wrist, urging him to stop.
“They’re sore.. please.” You begged and Neil leaned down to place another kiss to your hand.
“I’ll be gentle.” Neil assured and went back to what he was doing. He slid the shirt over your head, lifting your arms and slipping it past your head and shoulders.
His hands gently wound their way around your tits, pushing them together and watching as the milk dribbled out, just a little, just enough for a taste.
“Neil—“ you whispered in distress and he shushed you lightly. He craned his head and scooted down so his hard on was pressing up against your heat.
“They’re so full.” He admired, his eyes taking mental shots at the sight of them. He had been touched starved for the past three months, his body basically itching to be close to you.
Since giving birth you’ve both been either too exhausted to be intimate or too busy. Any other chance he could though, he was rubbing himself against you or fondling you. Each time being met with a giggle and swatting him away, or him finishing in his pants while you laid there and encouraged him.
He couldn’t help it though, when it came to you he was a depraved man. Never getting enough of you—truly insatiable.
You watched him as he slowly licked the circumference of your nipple, lapping up the droplets of milk like he was dehydrated. You gasped seeing him relish in the taste and latch his mouth to the bud.
It started slow, his mouth kitten licking and prodding, never using his teeth no matter how badly he wanted to nip at you.
Soon though his focus was completely centered around your tits. His eyes fluttered shut and soft moans escaped his lips, vibrating around it.
It still hurt of course, and not necessarily in a good way. It was painful for him to even touch them but you enjoyed seeing him like this so much that you fought through it. You carded your fingers through his hair and tugged lightly, knowing he loved when you did that.
That elicited a whimper from him as his eyes snapped open and softened when he met your gaze. Your pupils equally the size of saucers as you stared down at this wonderful sight in front of you.
Neil’s lips latched tighter and gently he started to suck, keeping his eyes on you the entire time as you gasped at the feeling—the pull.
He brought both hands to your breasts as his hips ground into your clothed heat. He had one focus now, and it was drinking every last drop of you till you were spent.
“Fuck, Neil,” you whined, finding all of this oddly pleasurable. This was most definitely new, sure he had sucked on your nipples before but he’s never drank from them.
You watched his eyes roll to the back of his head, his breathing labored, body hungry for more. You watched a droplet of milk spill from the corner of his mouth, his throat swallowing, basically gulping down as much as he possibly could.
He pulled off just enough to take a breath, and move to the next one. The one hand that wasn’t being occupied holding your tits in place, slithered down and slipped past your pants and panties, finding a goldmine of wetness waiting for him.
Neil moaned and looked up at you to watch your reaction as he brought two digits to your clit. Moving in slow, diligent circles and making you squirm as you pressed your body up into his fingers. It’s been a long three months for the both of you.
“Does that feel good, mommy? Do you like when I touch you like this?” He teased, making you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop yourself from whimpering.
“Y-Yes.” You choked out, slowly losing your mind to his aggressive touches.
Neil licked at his milky lips, savoring the taste before he pressed them to yours, forcing you to taste your own creation.
His tongue tasted sweet, like cantaloupe juice, and you wondered if that’s what it really tasted like. Neil pulled back and smirked at you, his fingers still working you into a frenzy.
“Tastes good right? Tastes so fucking good.” He moaned and finally couldn’t take it anymore. Without even consoling you, he yanked at the hem of your pants and underwear, shoving them down your thighs and passed your ankles.
You clung to yourself now, not entirely used to your post pregnancy body being put on display. Neither of you has made love quite like this in a while.
“Fuck baby,” the words slipped right off his tongue like melted butter. He pried your arms back and hungrily kissed at your chest, slowly making his way down.
His movements were quick and passionate, diving into your body like a sweet dessert. He kissed down your stomach, leaving a trail of spit behind, stopping close to your abdomen and just loving the feeling of your bush rubbing against his chin.
“You just taste so good— I can’t help myself.” He mouthed at your supple skin. His hands still trailing behind him, groping and fondling at every inch of your skin.
“I needed this. I needed this so bad baby, you have no idea.” He whined and his lips trailed over your inner thighs. He wanted to take his time with you, to make you feel good, and he would even as his own erection was pressing harshly against his jeans.
He latched his mouth to your dripping cunt, the warm, wet heat calling out to him, begging to be licked clean.
He did just that, filling the room with lewd slurping sounds as a mix of your moans blended together perfectly. You almost forgot about the sleeping baby in the other room.
“Neil, the baby is sleeping, w-we have to be quiet.” You warned in between a gasp, his mouth mercilessly working you into a mind-bending orgasm.
He sucked especially hard and pulled off, making you clutch the sheets for dear life.
“Yeah?” He whispered to you, his voice low and raspy. Even in the dimming light of the room, as the sun started to settle; you could see him. His lips and chin were slick with your juices. It was like a scene straight out of a porno—a good porno, of course.
You nodded at him and swallowed hard, he wasn’t asking for clarification, he was challenging you.
“Well then we better be quiet, right?” He teased and you nodded again.
His hand gripped your breast and tweaked the nipple, little teardrops of milk spilling out onto his fingers. You winced slightly at the manhandling but let him continue.
“Here, try some.” He said, collecting some of it and shoving his fingers into your mouth. Just when you started to suck them clean, he slipped two fingers inside of you making you arch your back and moan loudly around his digits.
“That’s right, Mommy can take it. Mommy can take it real good.” He praised you and moved both sets of fingers in sync. You clenched around him hard when his thumb swiped up at your already aroused clit. Slow and steady at first but picking up speed quickly.
You mouthed obscenities around him as he continued finger fucking you and he just took it all in. Biting his bottom lip, he was at the precipice of his own desire. The fact that he could do this to you, the fact that he could drive you crazy like this.. it was his only purpose.
Neil became uncomfortably aware of how much clothes he had on shortly after and pulled away just long enough to slip himself free of his confines. You laid there, trying to catch your breath and trying to stop your legs from shaking.
You watched him flip back the buckle of his belt and yank down his trousers and underwear in one swift move.
You stared at his erection, making mental note that the tip was slick with precum, it made your cunt ache more than it’s ever before.
You reached for him in desperation and he met you halfway. Neil pulled himself on top of you and feverishly ground himself against you.
Slipping his cock between your folds, right against your clit and using your own arousal as his lubrication. He bucked into you, a deep growl escaping his lips with each thrust upward.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about this all week..” He confessed with his eyes closed.
“Every time I watch you put the dishes away or bend over to pick something up—“ he slid his cock roughly against your clit once again.
“—all I could think about was fucking you right then and there.” you mewled at his confession though you already knew he wanted to.
“I just want to fuck you over every countertop, rip your fucking clothes off of you and fill that pretty pussy of yours.” This desperate act of him humping against you was pushing you close to the edge, as pathetic as it was to admit. Again, it’s been a long three months.
“Can you imagine that? Us having another baby, your belly all big again—and god those milky tits getting bigger than ever.” He fondled at your breasts, making more warm milk leak from them.
His depraved words only brought both of you closer to the edge. You knew he wouldn’t finish this way, he liked it inside.
You moaned and arched your back with each drag of his cock down your sensitive bud, each movement only producing more and more lubrication.
Your fingers made lines of red down his back as you clawed. Each heave of your chests making the room grow stuffier and stuffier.
“Can you imagine that baby? Tell me how badly you want it.” Neil urged, his hips slowing down, adding more pressure every time he moved towards you.
“Y-Yes..” you said weakly. You were completely loss for words, you had no idea he was so into that. “I can—I can imagine that.” You croaked, which only made a wicked smirk form on his face.
“Just look you, poor thing hasn’t been properly fucked in months. Hasn’t had Daddy’s cock to come all over.” His words basically made your eyes roll to the back of your head. His never-ending teasing making your pussy twitch and physically yearn for him.
Neil felt it, oh he felt it alright and it only drove him more mad. “Ooh you like that don’t you? Why don’t you come like this. Come on, come for me.”
You went to object, opening your mouth to beg him not to make you come like this; like you were some horny teenager rubbing herself off on her pillow, it felt dirty and depraved—which you were by all means— but you wanted more, you wanted to feel him.
Neil stopped you, “No whining, just do it.” He insisted and you could barely contain the high pitched whimper that left your lips as your cavern squeezed around itself, desperate for something to latch onto as wave after wave hit your body over and over again.
You threw your head back and about halfway through your orgasm you remembered the importance of staying quiet.
Neil kept on rubbing his perpetually leaking cock up and down your clit till your thighs twitched and you became desperate to get away.
Now that your opening was slick and so beyond ready, he slowly slid in. Inch by inch, he filled your sensitive cunt. He relished in the feeling, the grip tight and still fluttering from your orgasm.
“Neil!” You gasped, not expecting the burn from the stretch that met you. It hurt, which was to be expected but this felt different compared to what you were used to. It felt like he was tunneling a hole into you. Splitting you but also igniting you in the best way possible.
“Fuuuck…” he drawled out, his eyes fluttering shut as he rocked himself slowly in and out, over and over again.
Neil knelt over you, his elbows slotted on each side of your head. He leaned in so his lips were just grazing yours, his tongue slipping out to swipe at your parted lips.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this—you have no idea how much I’ve missed this.” He said, emphasizing his words with deeper thrusts. “How much I missed you.”
You felt your ears grow hot as your arousal bubbled up again. It was a heat that was so indescribable and so delicious it made your mouth water. You nodded, your chest rising and falling, labored breaths leaving you.
Neil fell into a slow and brutal pace. You could feel every inch of him, every curve and vein as he fucked you into oblivion. The speed only made your head spin and you found yourself digging lines down his back once more.
“Oh my god, baby. You know how I love it when you do that.” He moaned for you, slotting his head in between your shoulder.
Each word made you wetter and wetter. Soon enough the whole room was filled with soft squelching noises. It only seemed to spur Neil on because in seconds he pulled back, sitting back on his knees and gripped your hips for support as he looked down at you.
“I could come right now.” He said, his glazed eyes roaming over your body. He watched the way his thrusts made your breasts move, watching them jiggle as little droplets dribbled down the curve of them and onto the sheets.
“I could fill you up so good, have you walking around the rest of the day with my come leaking out of you… but I can’t.” He resigned with a sigh and angled his hips slightly upwards before slamming into you full force.
The wind was knocked out of you instantly. Gasping and trying desperately to ground yourself you clawed at the sheets, inevitably pulling them loose from the tucked corners of the bed.
He was fucking you so hard you could hear the loose screw in the frame rattling with each thrust inward.
“Neil please!” You begged but you weren’t even sure for what. For him to slow down? For him to stop? Oh no, no, no—that just wouldn’t do.
“I can’t baby, not when I need to feel you come all over me. Need to see that pretty little face as I—“ He gripped at your cheeks for emphasis, making your jaw hang open and your lips pouty. He leaned over just enough to spit into your gaping mouth and moved your jaw closed so you would swallow it.
“—fuck you into this mattress.” He finished. You felt your chest tighten, all the muscles in your thighs and stomach seizing for a moment as another wave of ecstasy hit you.
His filthy words filled your ears like angels singing and you nodded along, your body already climbing to your next orgasm.
You would do anything he said in this moment as long as he kept doing what he was doing. If he wanted another baby—fine. If he wanted you to scale the Empire State Building—that’s fine too.
You felt pressure building up, like weights were being placed against the bundle of nerves inside of you. You knew you could come like this if he kept up his brutal pace but you needed more and well—Neil had no problem delivering.
He moved your legs so they now rested against his shoulders and leaned forward. He went impossibly deep and both of you let out an animalistic moan.
He sped up quick, sounds of his thighs slapping against yours echoing off the walls. He reached for your hand that was bunched in the messy sheets and placed it between your thighs.
“Touch yourself for me.” He ordered and you didn’t hesitate.
You brought two fingers down and started rubbing in rhythmic circles making the deepest parts inside your pussy start to twitch. Neil’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth hanging open as you watched him tremble at the feeling of you—at the sight of you.
You were so clearly everything to him, and having you like this—your knees to your chest, split open and fucking writhing underneath him.. He’d call it heaven—scratch that—better than heaven.
“I-I’m close.” You choked out, your voice growing higher in pitch as he continued pounding his cock deeper and deeper into you.
Neil’s eyes returned to you, meeting your lust filled gaze before latching his lips down onto your nipple and starting to suck again.
It felt like he was dragging every ounce of energy out of you. Purely sucking the soul out of you.
You brought your free hand up to his hair, latching on and gripping so hard onto his locks you thought you’d rip them out.
“Neil, Neil, neil…” You chanted his name. The bed shook with you both, squeaks and rattling, the sound of flesh meeting flesh. It was too good. Too raw. And there was little to no care in keeping quiet anymore.
“Yeah baby, keep saying my name. Let everyone know who fucks you this good.” Neil purred, removing himself long enough from your tits to speak and then immediately returning back to suck them dry.
“Fuck!” You gasped one last time as you clamped down on him. Everything tensed for a long minute and you swore you blacked out. A soft ringing filled your ears, toes curling beside his ear, thighs trembling.
Neil moaned loudly, his mouth full and vibrating around your sore and hardened nipples. There was pain and pleasure mixing like a lethal cocktail, making you spill all around him.
The base of his cock grew sticky and the wet sounds only amplified. His thrusts grew erratic but never lost their strength.
You watched Neil detach from your nipple long enough to see the milky liquid stain his lips. He gaped at you, mouth hanging open and breathing heavy. Hunger. Deep and vicious in his eyes.
“Tell me you want another baby.” He said in a strained low voice.
“Tell me how bad you want it.” He ordered. You were surprised he still had the strength to tease you, to make you beg.
“I want it.” You said without hesitating. He was still fucking you through your sensitivity which was starting to make you squirm but he liked it that way.
“Say it again.” He demanded with desperation.
“I want a-another baby Neil.” You could barely get out as he slammed particularly hard into you.
“More.” He all but growled. You could tell he was there, right on the tipping age. He was always more.. demanding when he was close.
“I-I want another baby. Fuck—I love you so much, I’d do anything for you.” The words spilled from your lips without even thinking.
It was a drop of tenderness in an act that would surely get you both sent to hell if you weren’t already married. But it buried Neil, hammering in the last nail towards completion.
Neil stilled for a moment, his full body weight pressing down on you as his thighs shook against yours.
He gaped for a second, the room falling eerily quiet as his orgasm sucked the air out of him. He gasped loudly, “Fuuuck..” drawled from his throat.
You felt him flex inside you over and over again, the head of his member hitting your sweet spot every time a hot gushing dose of come spilled from it.
His hands gripped the back of your knees for support as he pumped the last bit of it deep inside of you.
You tried to catch your breath but under the weight of him, it was proving to be difficult. Before you could say anything though, Neil pushed his lips to yours.
Lazy, sweet and all tongue. He lapped at your lips and then pressed his tongue to the back of your teeth. You hummed into the kiss, pulling him in deeper by the back of his head.
You both laid there for a moment, lip locked and absolutely wrecked. You pulled away just to tell him that he was starting to crush you, but of course, just a second later you heard the crackles of the baby monitor next to you, and soon enough the baby’s cries could be heard.
Neil smiled down at you, that same goofy smile that had you hooked from day one. “I’ll get him, you stay here and rest up.” He said already pulling away and out of you.
“You deserve it.” He added, placing one last kiss upon your nose and turning towards the closet to pull out some fresh clothes.
For what i gathered from your style of writing (immaculate btw) i think reader would not responde to nates advances, because contrary to billy, stu and felix he doesnt hide his asshole ways.
So i think the main thrope would be groveling from his part
omg this ask feels like such a cross over!!
you're so right and i love the way you're thinking through this, but let's break down nate's character a little more (and reader's)
one of the major takeaways from that scene where everything that nate looks for in a girl is laid out and the scenes that explain what he liked about maddy is that there's this theme of being drawn to traditional feminity/someone that can play a traditionally feminine role
i think there are a lot of factors that play into him wanting that-- it reflects what he's familiar with, a more feminine partner will push back less/be easier to manipulate (in his head at least), and maybe a smidge of comphet depending on how you read his sexuality
one of his main fantasies is saving maddy from another man and when maddy was trying to win him over, she played into her femininity (and cassie kind of did the same)
and when you think about these reasons and the kind of girl he'd want to go for (and you look at the way he treats maddy when he apologizes and when they first started dating) it's natural for him to have some kinder qualities that come from the instinct to fill that traditionally masculine role in a relationship
so, when considering all of that,, i think nate can be really charming, maybe even a little chivalrous when he's really trying to win someone over
i also think nate's relatively good at reading people, and he can clock that the reader from that last blurb is trying to be a party girl more than actually being one, he knows that reader would never want to be around him if he's openly an asshole, so he manipulates subtly (telling reader to keep their interactions a secret from maddy for her own sake, all while knowing that the sooner he breaks that 'secret keeping' barrier, it'll only get easier to get reader to keep more and more from her friends)
i also see nate as someone who is very capable of being likeable when he wants to be, and reader being kind of sheltered/"innocent" and maddy's friend and being so determined to not like him makes him want to put in the work,,
so he's going to make a point of being soft spoken and nice when he has to see reader, and the harder she tries to dismiss him, the more he's going to commit bc it becomes less about getting maddy's attention and a little more about his ego,, and then finally, about reader
and if we're comparing this reader to final girl!reader or best friend! reader,, (you guys have no way of having known this, i barely referenced it in one sentence) i see this reader as being less looked out for
i picture her mom as one of those moms that wants to be "the cool mom" so bad so that she can pretend her daughter's friends are hers too, and she's so excited that reader is being more social/popular that she's a little lost in it
and i see reader's dad (not me finally giving readers a dad) as being almost the polar opposite, strict and traditional,, so reader still feels the need to hide going out and drinking bc it starts arguments with her parents and that makes her feel guilty
i'd really love to write a fic explaining all of these dynamics and how they overlap with the same style of narration that euphoria episodes that center a specific character's background story are,, i love mimicking niche voices like that it's so fun
Would bestie reader just say that she and felix are soulmates?
For example: her and farleigh are talking about the future and what they want to do and she just says "i would probably work and move somewhere sunny because felix doesnt really like the rain". " You want to live with felix?" " OFC, hes my soumate"
Felix: 🥺
yes yes yes! omg they so would pull the platonic soulmate card
You don't know who decided to label group study sessions as 'productive', but you're convinced they've never actually been to one. As a concept, they're the perfect way to balance social needs and academic responsibilities. It's a way to focus on your school work without isolating yourself completely.
In practice, group study sessions are an academic-hang-out purgatory.
"Y'know how you asked to not be interrupted until you finished your organic bio reading, unless there was an emergency?" Farleigh's voice has now yanked you out of the world of protein and enzyme molecules.
You sigh. If this is him giving into his inability to not snark at you, you might have to pick up your text book and hit him over the head with it. "Is there an emergency?"
The dryness of your response does little to dissuade him. You lift your head slightly. The reading break that's being forced onto you is an opportunity to get ready to copy some bullet points into your notebook. You reach for your highlighter, but before your fingers can grasp it, Farleigh's pulling it out of reach.
You straighten, back pressing into the wooden back of the library's chair. He ignores your glare, thumb pushing the neon pink cap upwards before snapping it back into place.
"I'd be careful, Farleigh." Felix's chair shifts with a soft groan, all four of the chair's legs fully settling on the ground as he sits up and flattens his feet. "That's not one of her nice looks."
"You'd know."
You frown, some half thought out sarcastic retort balancing on the edge of your tongue. Felix beats you to the punch. "You'd know if you had any real friendships."
Farleigh presses down on your highlighter's cap, a quiet click interrupting his silence as it clicks into place. "Friendship. Is that what we're calling it?"
There's a knowingness to the comment that has a hint of warmth attempting to tinge your cheeks. You're used to the jokes and little comments about you and Felix, especially from Farleigh, but his tone hints at a sharpness you're not in the mood for. Sometimes he feels like pushing, turning his jokes and comments into something more. You've been in the library for some time now, you're sure the stillness is making him restless in a way that will only add to that.
"Is this the emergency you interrupted my reading for?"
He shakes his head once, forearm moving to rest against the table in front of you. "Theoretically," he starts, the single word drawn out in a way that has you rolling your eyes, "If Madison was seen leaving a party with Abigail's ex-boyfriend, would that count as an emergency?"
No way. Your jaw drops. Madison and Abigail, roommates that seem perpetually trapped in the outer orbit of Felix's friend group, started the year as total best friends. Then, one day, for reasons that no one you know has been able to figure out, everything turned into a sort of unspoken competition between them. It's such an odd dynamic, you and Farleigh have to talk about it every time there's an update.
"What?" You set your arms over your textbook, leaning forward to better listen. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"You wanted to read organic bio."
Farleigh knows exactly what he's doing. He sat on this piece of information and only dropped it when it became convenient to have something worth saying. "You knew before I said that." You turn in your seat to look over at Felix. "Did you know?"
"I spent the entire night with you," he says, "I know what you know."
Yeah, you and Felix were particularly invested in your own world the last time you went out together. The two of you spent most of the night trying drink combinations you'd normally never get, Felix laughing as your negative reactions grew more theatrical as the night went on. "Well, you're not very invested."
It's not an accusation. You know Felix well enough to know that he's rarely particularly interested in most gossip. A part of it might come from the fact that everyone goes out of their way to present themselves in certain ways when around Felix. Rumors about palpable passive aggression seem a lot less real when the people the rumors are about are constantly trying to gloss over any imperfections in his presence.
"You two are too invested." He turns his head to look at you, a small smile playing at his lips. "You only get along when you're gossiping."
You straighten, lifting an arm off of the table to poke Felix's arm. "We all need hobbies." You then turn your head forward to look at Farleigh, "Okay, tell me everything and do it in less than 5 minutes, or I'm not going to go back to studying."
Farleigh's eyes briefly drop towards the textbook in front of you. "You worry too much." The way he says it feels less concerned and more like an observation of something he finds grating. "We all know you're going to end up at John Hopkins." It lacks any type of inflection. It feels like fact. An inevitability.
Graduate school is currently a foreign, distant concept, and you'd like to keep it that way. You're not sure why, but picturing your future education isn't as easy as you had hoped it would be. It's as if there's some kind of mental wall blocking your ability to connect with the next step in becoming a doctor, when all your classes will revolve around the subjects you don't love and you'll have to dissect and watch more surgeries than ever.
You tap our fingers against the wooden surface in front of you. You're not sure what the right kind of response to this type of thing is. "Uh--realistically, John Hopkins is far from everyone I know, and I don't think Felix would like Maryland, so..."
Farleigh raises an eyebrow as he finally sets down your highlighter. "You're factoring in Felix?" The question is still registering as Farleigh gestures in Felix's direction. "You want to live with him?"
"Yeah." While a lot of your future is blurry in your mind, Felix is clear, certain. "Yeah, he's my soulmate."
Farleigh's eyes widen slightly at the candidness of your admission. It didn't feel that heavy when you said it. There are a lot of ways for someone to be your soulmate.
"You want to--to live together after this?" You turn your neck to look over at Felix. He's already facing you, but his eyes are focused on his lap. "Like with me?"
"Yeah..." You admit again as you pull your hands towards you. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything without thinking. "Do you not want to live with me?"
"No, I do," he forces out the words quickly, his gaze briefly falling towards you. "I didn't realize you were--" He clears his throat, forcing himself to straighten. "Soulmate." Felix's hand reaches for the underside of your chair, pulling you towards him with no warning. "I'm your soulmate."
You're never speaking without thinking again. "There are a lot of ways to be someone's soulmate, so don't start."
His fingers move up the edge of the chair before finding your knee. He's beaming. "'M not starting anything."
Cillian Murphy | beaten, bloodied, and bruised
feat. : Red Lights (2012), Peaky Blinders (2013-2022), Free Fire (2016), The Delinquent Season (2018), & 28 Days Later (2002)
It started with half an hour, then and hour, and then an hour and a half. The more time went on, the more desperate you became. With Chris’ cock sitting still inside you, it’s like you could feel every familiar ridge and vein, but without the intoxicating friction that came along with it.
You promised him you’d be good, and you really wanted to be, but it was becoming harder and harder to sit still. Eventually your hips ended up shifting around on their own, and your core began to clench around him involuntarily.
“Baby,” Chris groaned, not taking his eyes off the barrel of his new and loaded gun. “We made a deal, didn’t we?”
You dip your head into his neck out of frustration, huffing softly in the process. You loved, yet also hated, Chris’ attentiveness. Nothing got by him. Ever. Even in situations like this, where all you want is for Chris to fuck you.
He knows how badly you want it, and that’s exactly why he teases you with it.
“It’s just … I feel so full ‘n I just …” you defend pathetically, it’s hard to form a compelling argument when the only thing that’s racing through your head is ‘cock’.
“Too bad, darling.” Chris replies while feigning pity, turning the safety off his gun before finishing his thought, “a deals a deal.”
“Chris …” you mewl and clench around him again, nipping gently at his neck playfully. He groans and sighs, allowing the kisses and bites for a few seconds.
He pulled your head out of the nook of his neck and gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eyes, “you promised me that you’d be good, that you’d sit on my cock and stay quiet until i finished examining the guns, didn’t you baby?”
You nod as best you can while he holds your face.
“And yet you couldn’t even do that for me, too much of a desperate fucking slut.” He spat back at you, making you frown and whine. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but what can he expect? He can’t fill you up so nicely and still expect you to be obedient.
As you slowly move your hips around, you’re stopped in your tracks when you feel the cold barrel of his gun be placed beneath your chin, Chris’ finger sitting patiently on the trigger. You swallowed nervously as your body froze on top of him.
“Aw, not so brave now, huh?” He chuckles at you, “you get so tight when you’re scared.”
You’re afraid to move, deeply worried that the slightest shift may set off the gun. That is, until, you feel Chris’ other hand soothingly pet your thigh, before patting it encouragingly.
“Well, come on. Don’t keep daddy waiting.”
Hesitantly, you begin to roll your hips, riding Chris at a steady pace, all the while his gun is pressing against you. He dips his head back and hums approvingly, clearly enjoying the show that’s being put on for him.
“That’s it. Ride me, girl. And don’t you dare fucking stop.”
—
I’ve been in the mood to write lately but I have no idea what. I think I’ll go through my requests again, see if anything sticks out hehe. In the meantime, have a little blurb!
but i think deep (or maybe not so deep) down,, felix thinks he's going to end up with reader,, like they're meant to settle down together one day
This made me imagine a scenario where bestfriend!Felix is cuddling with reader and they have a conversation that goes something like this
Felix: what would you name our children?
Reader: ??Children??! We haven't even kissed though??
It's funny to think that Felix is imagining his entire future with reader and reader is over here still clueless and thinking they're just really close friends 😭
omg he for sure would bring this up himself and then immediately gets flustered if reader entertained the thought,, he's so neat 🩷
----
The morning, or, more accurately, the early afternoon is slipping away. It's almost impossible to feel the passage of time while tangled in Felix's sheets, but you're sure it's too late in the day to still be in bed like this.
You and Felix have been quiet, like you always are when you first wake up after a long night out, too groggy and hungover to do much more than be next to each other. Conversation usually leads to the end of the morning's peacefulness anyway, with one of you mentioning something about breakfast or class or other weekend plans.
You're glad to lay here as long as possible, taking your time memorizing the feel of Felix's skin beneath your fingertips. But you and Felix have been awake for awhile now, and you do still have that homework that Felix convinced you could wait until later.
"Okay," you mumble, voice raspy with sleep, "It's been awhile." You smooth your knuckles against his bare shoulder. "We should get up."
He groans, shifting off of his side and onto his back. "Few more minutes." You're about to protest when he stretches out an arm, searching blindly until his palm finds your back. You sigh at the suggestion, but still move to rest your cheek against his chest. "It's Saturday."
Warmth begins to burn its way up your chest. Despite how comfortable you are with Felix, you're still never sure how to act when he decides to go to bed shirtless. "And I have an essay for Redman's class."
He trails his fingers down your back. "That's not due until the end of the week."
You lift your head, chin pressing into his side so you can properly glare. "How do you know that?"
He smiles, the look much too pleased for something so small. "Had lunch with Ollie yesterday."
Right. You should have guessed the answer. Oliver's the only person in that class that you know, which is kind of nice in its own way. You always have someone to sit and do group work with, and if you ever have to be absent you know Oliver takes good note. However, it also means that there's someone to let Felix know your deadlines. Which is usually okay, unless you're in the mood to work ahead and Felix is in the mood for anything else.
"He is such a homework snitch."
Felix laughs, "Homework snitch?"
"You know what I mean."
"'Y'mean," he starts, his thumb brushing past your shirt's collar, "You're sick of me and looking for an excuse to leave."
You roll your eyes, dipping your head forward and pressing a quick kiss against his side. "Exactly." Felix attempts to glare, but with the way his nose scrunches slightly at the unexpected contact, it falls flat. "You know I'm never tired of you."
"Really?" You nod, more focused on the realization that Felix might be ticklish than his probing tone. "Never?"
You nod again, the motion absentminded, "Never." Carefully, you lift your head a little more, propping it up on one arm. "Lex, are you ticklish?"
"No."
Too immediate, too firm.
You're quick, hand moving off a pillow, fingers aiming for his side. Felix is faster, his arm shifting forward in an attempt to stop you. You move your arm back, fingers brushing against his lower side. Felix laughs, the sound nervous. You grin, satisfied.
The brief moment you take to feel your feel victory is your downfall. Felix's hand presses against your wrist, pinning your hand flat against his stomach. "Lovie," he tries, still recovering from his laughing fit, "Play nice."
You look up at him, expression pure innocence, "I always play nice."
"Mhm."
His doubt is offensive. You pout. "I do." You attempt to straighten, Felix's hold on your hand tightens. "I'm going to lay down." He eyes you skeptically. "As a sign of goodwill. Promise."
He loosens his grip before turning your palm over. You intertwine your fingers, squeezing his hand as you lay your head down. "Any plans for today?"
"No." Felix smooths circles against your back. "Just you."
You're glad that your head's turned away from him so that you don't have to mask your grin. "Good."
"Good?"
You drag your thumb against his knuckles. "You know I'm prone to fits of jealousy."
Felix laughs so gently you feel the movement of his chest more than you hear it. "Sounds like you."
Even though there isn't anything hilarious about your joke and Felix has done a lot more to go along with your bits, you laugh too.
Comfortable silence is just beginning to blanket the two of you again when Felix speaks again, "Lovie?" You hum in acknowledgement. "Do you--" He cuts himself off. "Do you want to get married?"
Now you're really glad that your face is turned away from him. "I--I'm going to need a better proposal before answering."
His hand briefly stalls against the fabric of your T-shirt. "No," he huffs the word in a way that's almost a laugh. "I didn't--I mean--I meant generally. At some point."
Oh. A serious question that's a lot less fun than when you could pretend he was proposing. "Oh--uh, I don't know. I mean, it didn't exactly work out for my mom, but some people seem to--" You let out a breath in an attempt to give yourself some time to think through your response. It's not like you've never thought about marriage, but it's not something you have a concrete answer on. "I think so, maybe."
Your own flakiness feels like a cop out response. You swallow before trying again, "If I can find someone I trust, like really trust." Squeezing Felix's hand for assurance, you give yourself another moment to contemplate. "And also, I'd have to be sure that they're the kind of person I can be around forever without feeling drained."
Finally feeling okay with your response, you're ready to move on by asking Felix about his own thoughts on marriage. Before you can turn the conversation, Felix says, "Like the way you trust me?"
Your face burns. "Yeah," you mumble, too distracted by your sudden shyness to even think to joke about it, "Something like that." You're still more flustered than you want to be. "I also said I'd have to not get tired of them, so..."
Felix scoffs, "Oh, don't start." He lifts the hand he's holding, pressing a kiss to the back of your palm. "We'd be happy."
You're quiet because there's nothing you can say. Felix is only teasing, but the more you think about marrying him, the more real the joke feels. Even though he's only your best friend and there's nothing romantic about your relationship, you would be happy with him. How could you not? He's considerate, always putting your feelings first, and you could get used to a lifetime of waking up by his side.
"Do you have any name preferences?"
You lift your head enough to look at him. "What?"
Felix's gaze briefly meets yours before dropping his attention back to your intertwined hands. "Baby names."
Your lips part in surprise, and for a long second, all you can do is blink at him. "Are you still drunk?"
He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm making conversation."
Okay, a little weird, but if Felix is being so casual about it, maybe you're overthinking it. "Okay," you mumble skeptically, "You probably come with a ton of family, traditional names." His thumb brushes down the back of your hand. "I like the name Lux," you finally manage, "For a girl."
"Lux," he repeats, more to himself than you.
You let yourself openly watch him. "I guess it depends on how many kids we have."
Felix turns his head slightly, teeth grazing against his bottom lip. "Two or three." His eyes focus on the pack of cigarettes on his nightstand. "I mean, I like the idea of two or three."
"Two or three?" You haven't given much thought to the number of children you want. You grew up an only child, mainly around your mother, and that was a little lonely despite her best efforts. You like the general idea of siblings, but with that comes multiple pregnancies and labor. "That's a long time to be pregnant."
He squeezes your shoulder, the gesture comforting. "We don't have to have them right away."
You lay your head down again, temple resting against his side. It's not a terrible thing to imagine, not in the slightest. Felix with a baby in his arms and a toddler or two hanging off his leg. Children with different combinations of your features--a little boy with your hair and his kind eyes, a baby girl with his charming smile and your nose.
Okay--that's enough of that train of thought. The last thing you need is to actually start wanting your best friend to propose. "Considering how far we are from married, I'd hope not."
"Wow," he breathes, dragging the word out. You turn your head, doing your best to look up at him. "I see."
"See what?"
His hand trails down your back warmly. "We're too young for me to propose."
Embarrassment has you attempting to pull away so that you can defend yourself. Felix doesn't let you get too far, his hand on your back making it hard to do much more than hold up your head. "No, I didn't--"
"We're still in school, Lovie. It'd be irresponsible."
The amusement coloring his expression has you glowering. He is so impossible. "Your tone is irresponsible."
"Moody." You're about to protest when he pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. "Want to go to breakfast?"
You rest your chin near his stomach. "Is it early enough for breakfast?"
He turns his head, neck stretching at an awkward angle to look at his bedside clock. "If we go to the place down the road with the all day breakfast menu."
You smile, "Cool." You wipe at your eyes with the back of your palm. "You realize to go we have to get up, get ready..."
"Hm," he hums, pretending to contemplate, "Give me five minutes?"
You are starting to feel hungry, but everything's so much warmer this close to Felix. You're comfortable, and it's not like there's a time constraint on breakfast. "Okay, five minutes."
Felix grins, pulling your hand towards him again. He brushes his lips against the back of your palm. "That's my girl."
You roll your eyes in an attempt to hide any obvious signs of total contentment before laying your head down again.
hear me out:) reader wants to try vanilla sex with Dr.Crane since he always has some kind of twist or experiment when it came down to it. And he ends up doing her against the wall and it’s just really intimate.
love your works, and it’s totally fine if this isn’t something you would write🤗
I love a challenge haha ;) And I always enjoy getting to explore different sides of a character. While he might not be nice in most of my fics, I do think that Crane has a sweet side. Somewhere in there lmao. Thank you for requesting, anon!
V. planifolia
Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: Your boyfriend comes home unexpectedly early, and you take the opportunity to try something new.
Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of bondage, mentions of edging, slight overstim, dirty talk, dumbification if you squint, dare I say... some domestic fluff? (in MY Jonathan Crane?!), established boyfriend/girlfriend relationship
A/N: The biggest mental hurdle I had to overcome in writing this was referring to him as "Jonathan" instead of "Crane" lmao. He's just always Crane in my head. And while things are pretty vanilla, he's still sassy, because... well, it is me writing him lol
***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***
You were so used to your boyfriend coming home late that it was almost a surprise when he showed up just thirty minutes after you'd finished dinner.
“Jonathan?” you called, cautiously getting up from the couch to investigate.
You'd heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, so logic dictated that it couldn't have been an intruder. But it was barely seven o’clock, and Jonathan didn't usually get home until after you were already in bed. He worked long hours; he always had. So you were shocked to see him standing there in the entryway, setting down his briefcase as he closed the door behind him.
“Baby? What are you doing home early?”
At the sound of your voice, he looked up. A small smile fluttered over his face; his eyes pale and tired, until they caught a glimpse of you. There was that mischievous little spark that you loved.
“Sorry to startle you,” he replied. “I can leave if you'd like.”
He was joking, and you laughed a little as your arms wrapped around his waist. Your bodies found each other easily, and you felt yourself sink against him in that comfortable way that you knew so well.
“No way - you're not getting away from me that easily,” you teased.
Your lips brushed against his, and Jonathan pulled you in closer until you were kissing him. As you sighed happily, you realized that it had been - approximately - forever since the last time you'd had an evening alone with him. You pulled away and looked back at him softly; gentle concern tinting your eyes.
“I'm happy you're home, but is everything okay?” you asked. “You really are back early.”
“Everything’s fine,” he assured you.
Jonathan gave you one more squeeze before he gently broke the hug, trailing off in the direction of the living room. You followed, a small skip already creeping into your step. Your smile threatened to break out at any moment. It was so good to have him home.
You watched from the doorway as Jonathan dropped heavily onto the couch, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling as he sat. His jacket was already thrown over the back of a chair, and he rolled up his shirtsleeves, not watching what he was doing.
“I know that I haven't been home much,” he continued. His voice seemed to fill the room, making the small space feel even more intimate. “Work has been eating me alive.”
“I hope not literally,” you joked.
Though you could never be sure. Some of the patients he worked with at Arkham were… unique, to say the least.
“Not yet.”
He lifted his head to look over at you, briefly, before reclining again and throwing an arm over his face. Even with his eyes shielded, you could still feel the lingering, icy cold rush of his gaze. You walked over and knelt at his feet, helping him to remove his shoes.
As you tugged at the laces, you felt a surge of devotion wash over you. Jonathan always worked hard. Even though, yes, he wasn't around much during the week, he made sure to provide for you. In fact, you were sure that was all part of the reason why he so often worked late.
Once his shoes were off, you let your soft fingers drift up his leg, brushing against the fabric of his trousers.
“Did you have dinner? Do you want something to eat?”
“Maybe later,” Jonathan replied, as he took hold of your wrist.
Gently, he pulled you until you were standing up, and then until you were straddling him, your knees pressed into his sides.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” you asked, settling into his lap.
As you spoke, your hands came up to rest on his shoulders. Kneading into his tension, you could feel as his arms relaxed under your touch.
“I just want to spend time with you.”
His fingers trailed over your thigh, and you knew instantly what he meant.
“Oh, so that's why you're home early,” you teased.
You leaned in to kiss him again, this time slipping a finger to hook under the knot of his tie, pulling him closer to you. His tongue brushed against yours, and it sent an electric jolt down your spine.
“Aren't I allowed to miss you?” he teased back.
You felt your cheeks heat up. Both of you knew very well that Jonathan was always the one in charge in the bedroom, and hearing him talk as if you were the one who imposed rules on him made you feel flustered.
“You have no idea,” he continued, “how hard it is to work late, when all I can think about is how you’re here all alone. Waiting up for me. You've been good though, right? Haven't been touching yourself without me?”
The heat on your cheeks deepened, traveling all the way down to your core.
“O-of course not,” you replied, cursing the way your voice caught in your throat. It was just like him to somehow have you wrapped fully around his finger less than five seconds in. “You know I wouldn't.”
Jonathan hummed, and pushed your hips up and off of his lap as he brought a hand down to brush softly over your clit. You jumped, even feeling him through all your clothing, and your knuckles stretched tightly over his shoulders.
“Seems like you're telling the truth…”
And you were. You melted into his touch as Jonathan swirled his fingers against you, pressing them roughly. After going without for so long, every nerve felt as if it was on fire in between your legs.
“Ohh…”
Your soft sigh earned you more pressure from Jonathan; his fingers nearly digging into your clothed cunt. You rocked your hips, desperately throwing your head back as you held onto his shoulders for support.
“Stop,” he ordered.
“Mmmmmph.”
Your petulant whine filled the room, and your frustration only grew as Jonathan took his hand away. His command had been gentle, but you were so needy that it felt like torture.
Swiftly, Jonathan stood up and took you with him. Still holding onto your hips for support, he made sure your feet were on the ground before stepping forward. He backed you up with him, until your shoulder blades hit the far wall.
“I really have been away for too long, haven't I?” he breathed, filling your mouth with the taste of anticipation.
“It's okay… I know you're busy at work.”
“You're too nice,” Jonathan sighed. “I want to hear just how badly you’ve missed me.”
Almost instantly, he got what he wanted as you cried out, shocked by the way his leg pushed eagerly between yours. He pressed harder, still looming over you.
“That's better.”
“Jonathan-”
“Want me to tie you up like I did last time?” he interrupted. “Or do you want to try something new?”
It was impossible to miss the hint of excitement in his deep voice. You moaned as he dragged your hips down even harder, pressing your bodies together with an intensity that was almost too much.
“I- was thinking it might be nice to try something a bit different,” you answered, your voice slightly fragmented as he unbuttoned your pants.
“Mmm. You have any ideas?”
You took a deep breath. What you had in mind probably wasn't the same as whatever twisted idea was running through Jonathan’s head. It wasn't that you didn't like experimenting. It was just… you didn't like doing it all the time.
“I was thinking… what if we just took things slow?” you ventured.
“What? Like you want me to edge you?”
“No, not… exactly like that.”
It was getting harder to articulate, as Jonathan’s mouth latched onto your neck, sucking and biting as he moved up toward your jaw.
“Like what, then?” he whispered wickedly, right in your ear.
“Like… what if we were just kinda… gentle?”
Jonathan pulled back to look at you, the slight hint of a frown on his lips.
“But you like when I'm rough with you.”
“I do!” you rushed to agree. “It’s just that… sometimes I want you to be slow and sensual.”
Your arms inched up to hook round his neck, and you pulled him in for a soft kiss, trying to show him what you wanted. Jonathan was stiff at first, but eventually he melted into the slow movement of your lips.
When the kiss broke, Jonathan took a step back, removing his thigh from between your legs. He pushed his hands under your waistband and started to, very slowly, shove the fabric down over your hips.
“We can try that,” he relented. Then added with a mischievous wink, “But if you get bored… just let me know.”
You hummed as his hands slid over your curves, dragging your pants down with them. Jonathan never did anything halfheartedly, and if you wanted it slow, then that was exactly how he would give it to you. Even if it did drive you crazy in the process.
Your slacks fell, pooling below you on the hard floor. Jonathan paused for a moment, before planting a kiss on the exposed skin below where your blouse had started to fall away. He pushed back your collar, to kiss more and then send a shiver right after, as he breathed over the wetness that had been left behind by his mouth.
He stood up straight, pressing an airy kiss to your forehead as his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties.
“Am I doing it how you want me to, darling?” he asked.
You felt yourself swoon again. You weren't used to him following your lead quite like this, but you liked it. A lot.
As was clearly evidenced by the wet spot that had started to seep through the fabric that Jonathan was toying with. He found the trace of your arousal easily enough, and pressed two of his fingers into the damp cotton.
“Nevermind. I have my answer.”
Slipping your already-ruined panties to the side, Jonathan brushed his fingers over your core before bringing them up to your clit. Swirling with just the right kind of pressure, he dragged a soft moan from your lips.
“Oh my god,” you sighed. “Keep going.”
He kissed you, slowly but sinfully, swallowing all of your breathy sighs and words of admiration as they slipped out. It was impossible to contain them, especially when you started to feel his own arousal as it pressed up against your hip, seeming to grow more impatient the harder he got.
“Jonathan- so close,” you whined, breathless already.
“You sure you don't want me to edge you?” he asked, maybe a little hopefully.
“No - please, let me come.”
The pressure was already building. Soon, neither of you would have any choice in the matter. You just had to get him to keep going, long enough for you to push past the point of no return.
“Well, if you're asking so nicely…”
Another searing kiss sealed your fate, and you scrambled to hang onto Jonathan as you felt yourself start to crumble.
He held you, still pressed firm against the wall, and you heard a deep chuckle resound from his throat.
“Good to know even this kind of stuff makes you a mess,” Jonathan droned. “Or maybe you're just so used to me doing everything I want to you, that this actually counts as variety now.”
You were barely listening to him; still too distracted by the delightfully sore feeling that seemed to permeate your whole body.
What you did notice was him slipping your panties the rest of the way off, letting them fall at your feet before gently guiding you to step out of them. With that done, he turned his attention to your blouse, delicately removing it and then tossing it to the side.
Your hands came up clumsily to paw at the buttons on his shirt, trying in vain to release them. Jonathan saw you were struggling, and gave you a small, knowing smile.
“Let me help, darling. It seems like you're having some trouble.”
You moved your hands to let Jonathan take over. He loosened his tie easily, and popped three of his buttons. But, quickly, he lost interest, and instead moved to unzip his pants.
When he finally sprang free, his cock hit your still-throbbing clit.
“Ah!” you hissed.
“Still sensitive?” Jonathan asked, rubbing himself leisurely against you.
Your only response was a whimper, but that was answer enough. Jonathan’s lips curled into a wicked smile, as he hovered close to your ear.
“Hold still,” he teased, reaching down to line himself up.
You squirmed, fighting within yourself as half of you wanted to scream at the sensation while the rest of you, conversely, needed to grind down harder. Every contact made you jump, and as he pressed in, you saw stars.
“Jonathan…”
You had expected him to start moving, but instead he held off. Staying right where he was, Jonathan paused so that you could feel just how completely he filled you.
“Everything okay?” he asked, sickly sweet voice dripping into your ears.
“Fuck,” you replied.
He laughed.
“You’ve lost quite a bit of your usual eloquence.” He started to drag himself out. “But okay. Since you asked nicely again…”
As he pressed back in, slow but rough, you couldn’t help letting out an undignified sound. Jonathan smirked.
When he did it again, your whole body shifted, pressed up by the force of his thrust. Your head rolled back, hitting the wall lightly before lolling off to the side.
“You’re so pretty,” he sighed.
As he spoke, he reached down to hook one of your legs up and over his waist. The new angle caused you to let out another choked whine, which earned you an even harder thrust.
“Maybe we should do this more often. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you like this.”
You could only imagine how you must have looked. Mouth hanging open and eyes half-shut, rolling back into your head from the pleasure as your chest heaved and your knees gave out. Jonathan smoothed a thumb over the edge of your jaw.
“Even though I can’t stop thinking about all of the other things I’d like to do to you,” he added, punctuating the sentiment with his hips. You swore you felt him shudder.
Kissing your suddenly-warm neck, Jonathan thrust into you again. Your hips snapped back weakly to meet him, and you heard yourself start to moan. You held onto him tighter, dragging your nails down his arms.
“I thought you wanted to be gentle?” he teased.
He hadn't been going very fast, but now he slowed down entirely. For a moment, the two of you stood, face to face, your breath and his in a sweltering mix, pooling out in the scant space between you.
Jonathan’s forehead came to rest against yours, and you looked up into the blur of his eyes. Two hazy pools of blue ice that were filling your vision completely.
“Want me to speed up?”
“No, this is nice,” you replied. A bit dreamily as your senses took time to adjust. Your skin prickled at his touch as he brushed a hand lazily up your arm.
“I can be slow then,” he laughed. “But it might be too hard if you keep looking at me like that.”
“How should I look at you, hm?” you teased.
“Like you’re pretending you don't want to be turned around with your wrists pinned up against the wall,” he teased back.
He pressed into you, exploring how deep he could go before you started writhing against him. Your leg on his waist tightened, pulling him in and holding him firmly in place for a kiss.
You knew he might take some convincing, but you were prepared to take all night to show Jonathan just how good things could be, after practicing a little patience.
Summary | Holidays with your family are hard, but Cillian makes it a little more bearable.
Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, large age gap (unspecified), fluffy ish smut, oral (kind of), praise, a lil degradation, kissing, fingering, I need him to talk me through it 😭
Words | 3.6 k
Notes | Pretend I posted this 2 months ago💀🤫 Also wow- first /not/ dark smut in a while I think skdhdk
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
With a heavy sigh, you flopped down onto the bed as he looked through his luggage.
“Just a few more days.” You said through a breath.
“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” You grunted out an acknowledgement, keeping your eyes closed and not moving. You heard him chuckle, then your shoes were being taken off. “I can’t tell if I make things better or worse by being here.”
“Better. Definitely better.” You sighed and he unbuttoned your pants before pulling them down your legs.
“I’m not sure they like me very much though.” He was saying it like a joke, but you knew he didn’t like the fact that most of your family disapproved.
“I don’t care.” You muttered. When he pulled your torso to slip your sweater off, you whined in displeasure. He dressed you in your sleep shirt, then lifted you to carry you over to your side of the bed and lay you back down. If your family saw this, they’d probably understand. But he’s always been a perfect gentleman— polite, kind, respectful. You didn’t get why his age overshadowed all of that. When your eyes fluttered open, you turned your head to the side to watch him change into his pajamas, then he was pulling the covers back and joining you.
“Thank you for being here.” You said softly, turning on your side to face him. He gave you a warm smile and brushed your hair away from your face.
“I just hate seeing how stressed you get.” He murmured, gaze trailing all over your face.
“You help a lot. More than you know.” You returned the smile and placed a hand on his arm. He stared at you for a moment, then reached behind himself to turn off the lamp.
“C’mere.” He said quietly, pulling you into him. He placed a gentle kiss on your head and you buried your blushing face in his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. After a while, he started trailing one hand up and down your arm, relaxing you even more. That is… until his hand started straying to your hip.
“Not here.” You whispered. It took every ounce of self restraint you had to gently bat his hand away, but he was undeterred.
“You can be quiet.” His hand was gripping your hip now, teasing the fabric of your underwear.
“Cillian, you can literally hear everything in this house.” As if to emphasize your point, you heard a cough come from one of the rooms.
“Then don’t make any noise, baby.” He pushed you onto your back and started kissing the side of your neck as his warm hand rubbed your stomach, beneath the shirt. You let out a pleased sigh and tilted your head to give him more room, making him chuckle quietly. He suddenly moved his hand down, beneath your underwear, and swiped his fingers through your slit.
“Christ.” He whispered, making you whine from embarrassment, but he quickly shushed you, reminding you to be quiet.
“Cillian.” You said through a breath. You brought a hand up to grip his bicep, but you didn’t try to pull him away. His fingers rubbed slow circles over your clit and he gently nipped at your neck. You wanted nothing more than for him to suck the skin into his mouth, mark you as his… but you knew that would only make things worse between him and your family. When you whined quietly, he seemed to pick up on what you were thinking because he pushed your shirt up your body to kiss your chest, leaving a few marks.
His free hand suddenly covering your mouth almost made you moan, but his fingers slipping inside was what actually made the sound come out. He pressed down harder, trying to muffle your sounds even more. You breathed heavily through your nose as he slowly curled his fingers inside you. Scrunching your brows, you stared at him with wide eyes and shook your head beneath his hand.
“Let me be your stress relief, baby.” He whispered, starting to move his fingers a little faster now. You whimpered quietly, his words and actions making you melt.
Your hips were squirming against his hand now, trying to get more from what he was giving you. He leaned back down and softly kissed your jaw, then worked his way down your neck, stopping just below your ear.
“Can you be quiet?” He whispered, breath fanning your ear, and you nodded even though you didn’t believe it. The second he removed his hand, his face was going back into your chest, this time paying attention to your breasts. Your breath caught in your throat and you brought your hands up to his hair when he sucked your nipple into his mouth.
“Cillian..” You whispered, hips grinding against his hand.
“Shh, baby. No sounds.” He said softly, barely pulling away enough to speak. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. “Good girl.” That made you whine and pull harder on his hair. You bit your lip until it hurt, trying to keep the sounds in. But when his fingers sped up and the heel of his hand started stimulating your clit, you knew you couldn’t do it.
“I can’t— I can’t.. fuck.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut and putting all of your focus into staying silent.
“You can.” He kissed up your chest and neck until he reached your face. “Let me make you feel good, baby.” You opened your eyes when you felt his breath fanning your lips.
“This door doesn’t even lock.” You protested weakly.
“All the more reason to stay quiet.” Before you could say anything else, he leaned down and kissed softly. His fingers slowed into a gentle curling motion, not trying to bring you closer to the edge yet. When you snaked a hand down his stomach, he broke the kiss and gently pulled your hand away. “This is just about you, love.” He explained, making you frown.
“But,”
“None of that.” He scolded softly. “Anything I do with my cock, you won’t be able to stay quiet for.” Even though you knew he was right, you still weren’t happy about it. “Don’t be a brat.” He warned when he saw your expression.
“m’not.” You muttered, still pouting.
“Should I stop? Leave you like this and go to bed?” You looked away from him, still wanting to argue, but not wanting to be denied. “Thought so. Now be a good little girl, lay there and take my fingers,” his eyes darkened as he leaned closer to you, “and keep your fucking mouth shut.” He hissed, using his hard dom voice. You stared at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as you squirmed, getting needier just from a few words.
“Do you understand?” You nodded quickly and he raised his brows.
“Y-yes.” You corrected yourself. His fingers picked back up almost immediately and your hand shot up to cover your mouth, muffling the moan that slipped out. He didn’t bother building back up to the pace, he just went from zero to one hundred.
You breathed heavily through your nose, scrunching your brows together in concentration. His lips were slightly parted as he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, clearly affected by this situation as well.
When he hit that particularly good spot inside of you, your eyes widened even more and you shook your head with a quiet whimper, warning him. There’s no way you’ll be able to stay quiet. His fingers were moving almost violently and you sobbed out a moan, making them stop instantly. You whined in response and he used his free hand to grab your neck, squeezing the sides tightly.
“What did I say?” He hissed and you removed your hand from your mouth finally.
“I’m sorry— I’m sorry. I’m trying…” You whispered through a breath. “Please.” When you pouted and bucked your hips, his expression turned into one of amusement.
“Fine.” He resumed the relentless pace, keeping his hand on your neck. “You want to moan like a slut for the whole house to hear? That’s fine by me.” You faltered because, no… that’s not what you wanted. “Give them a show, baby. Make sure they all know how good I make you feel— how easy it is to turn you into a brainless little whore, unable to keep your fucking mouth shut.” He hissed, making you even needier.
“Cillian..” You whined.
“Yes, love?” He asked innocently.
“I’m trying.” You whimpered, feeling tears of humiliation and desperation stinging your eyes.
“I know, baby.” He cooed mockingly. “I know you are.” It almost seemed like he wanted you to be loud with the way he started grinding his palm against your clit and moving his fingers faster. Wet noises were just barely audible beneath the blankets but you knew he heard it too when he let out a breathy laugh. “Such a needy fucking pussy.” He whispered with a small smirk. “You’re dripping down my hand too.”
“Stop teasing me.” You whined with a pout.
“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t help it.” He chuckled warmly.
“You’re being mean!” Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been when you raised your voice at him.
“Fingering my girlfriend is mean?”
“Stop it!” You whined, louder this time. Your frown deepened, but it was hard to keep the expression with his fingers still curling against your walls.
“Enough.” He growled, his grip on your neck tightening even more as his fingers inside you came to a stop. “Tell me the safe word.” He ordered, tone slightly softer, but still stern. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, making him squeeze your neck harder until you looked at him again.
“…Red.” You muttered.
“That’s right. The only time I want you to open your fucking mouth is to say that. One more word and I’ll shove my cock so deep down your throat you won’t even be able to make any sounds.” He warned. He’s big enough where even when you deepthroat, you can’t go all the way down. So you took the threat to heart. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” You whispered, then quickly closed your mouth. He didn’t bother replying before slowly moving his fingers again, getting you used to the feeling. You tried to take deep breaths through your nose to stay calm and collected, but you were still looking at Cillian, his face lit up by the moonlight.
His gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth and you instantly recognized the facial expression he had— The hunger and heat in his eyes as he prepared to ravish you. Normally that look was followed shortly after by him mounting you as he kissed you, swallowing your moans and pushing his cock inside, only stopping when he was buried all the way in. Judging by his heavy breathing and the way his cheeks tensed as he clenched his jaw, you figured he was thinking the same thing.
You almost moaned his name, but remembered just before the word could come out. So you pleaded with him silently by furrowing your brows and looking up at him with wide eyes. He cursed under his breath and closed his eyes for a moment as he composed himself.
When he suddenly got up on his knees and settled between your open legs, you felt a flicker of hope that you’d get what you wanted. He leaned down to kiss you, but made no move to take out his fingers or push down his pants. It took everything in you to not whine.
He started kissing over your jaw and down your neck to your chest. When his lips latched on to your nipple, you quickly covered your mouth to hold in the sounds begging to escape. He rolled the other one between his fingers gently and your free hand went to his hair, tugging on it and pulling him impossibly closer. He let out a low groan from the slight pain on his scalp, the sound adding to your arousal.
“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He murmured, lifting his head to look at you as his hand started rubbing up and down your side. His fingers picked up, going faster and harder, bringing you closer to the edge. “My perfect little girl.” He whispered, leaning back over you and cupping your cheek.
He suddenly kissed you again, his lips moving passionately against yours, claiming you in whatever way he could. While you were distracted with the kiss, he forced a third finger inside, making you release a startled moan that was muffled by his lips. Once you quieted down again, he reluctantly pulled back.
“Can you come for me, baby?” He rasped, almost sounding desperate for it. When you nodded quickly, he gave you a warm smile. “Good girl… Can you be quiet while you do?” You looked away sheepishly, not sure if you should be honest or tell him what he wants to hear. You looked at him again and nodded slowly, your face almost looking guilty while you answered him. He chuckled quietly and gave you another kiss, this one much quicker. “That’s my girl.” He whispered proudly, making you blush and buck your hips into his hand.
His fingers suddenly sped up, curling against your walls as his hand pressed firmly against your clit. Your blush darkened when he continued staring down at you, his eyes half-lidded with arousal. You couldn’t wait to finally go home so he could actually fuck you. It’s barely been a week and you’re already going crazy without having his cock inside you.
Maybe you can convince him to take you to the “store” or something tomorrow and then park somewhere secluded and fuck in the car. But also the build up of so many days without it will make for some pretty fucking good sex when you get home… You couldn’t help but think about what he’d do— how many times he’d make you come, how sore and bruised your body would get, how much he’d fill you up, breed you until he didn’t have any come left to give you.
“Fuck,” You choked out, clinging to his shoulders as the knot of arousal in your stomach tightened considerable. “I- I’m…” You whispered, unable to say anything else. His hand suddenly covered your mouth again, making you moan quietly.
“Come for me, baby. Let me make you feel good.” He begged, voice incredibly raspy now.
Your orgasm finally crashed over you and you clenched your jaw, trying to stifle your sounds. His fingers never faltered as your walls clamped down on them tight enough to almost force them out. “Good girl… I’m so proud of you, baby.” He cooed, making you whine and arch up into him as you rode it out to the very end. When you finally sagged back into the bed and started panting, he released your mouth and slowly pulled his fingers out. You watched as he instinctively lifted them toward his mouth, then suddenly stopped, staring at them for a moment. Cursing under his breath, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a tissue to clean them off. When he looked at you again and saw your confused expression, he explained.
“If I taste you, I won’t be able to stop myself from eating you out and you're even louder during that.” You blushed, but laughed quietly because he was right. Finally, he laid down next to you and when you got up to move to the foot of the bed, he pulled you back with a gentle hand on your wrist.
“I’m okay, baby.” He said softly, but his voice was still thick with arousal. “Tonight was just about you.” He kissed the top of your head and you couldn’t help but blush.
“But…” You can literally see his hard on from beneath the covers. And also your mouth is already watering at just the thought of tasting and feeling him. “I want it.” You pouted, like a child who was denied a treat.
“Not tonight, love. You’ll be too loud and it’s too messy.” You frowned, but didn’t protest because you were already coming up with a plan in your head.
“Fine. We’ll just sleep then.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled as you turned onto your side, facing away from him. He cuddled you from behind, being careful to keep his hips far away from yours. After maybe a minute, you subtly shifted around, pushing your ass back. You didn’t reach his bulge before he grabbed your hip hard to hold you still.
“Stop.” He warned, breath fanning your neck, making you shiver.
“I’m just trying to get comfortable.” You said innocently, making him scoff.
“No, you’re being a brat.”
“I thought tonight was about me and what I want. Well this is what I want.” You reached behind yourself and palmed his bulge before he could stop you. He grunted in surprise, then his grip on your body got infinitely tighter.
“Fuck— fuck. Fine.” He muttered, turning to lay on his back. You smirked and moved down the bed until you were laying between his legs. Without wasting any time, you freed his cock and stroked him slowly, making him sigh quietly.
“In your mouth.” He ordered and you obeyed eagerly. When you started going up and down, keeping your hand at the base, he stopped you. “No. I’m going to fuck my fist and you’re going to keep your mouth on it until I come. Understand?” As soon as you realized that you weren’t going to be actively participating, you pouted and looked at him with puppy dog eyes. “It's either this or I go jerk off in the bathroom and finish in the toilet instead.” You whined loudly and his hand shot out to grab your hair and pull roughly. “Quiet.” He hissed.
“Cillian..” You whined again, quieter this time. When all he did was stare at you, you frowned and removed your hand, letting his replace it. Once his hand was on his cock, you took the tip in your mouth and closed your lips around it with a quiet whine.
“Good girl.” You whimpered, then started suckling on it, getting needier when you could taste some precum. For a while he just stroked his cock, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on him. But you needed more.
“You’re not close yet, right?”
“No.” He said through a breath. You immediately dove down and started kissing and licking his balls, forcing a choked moan out of him. You chuckled quietly and shushed him, but kept going. When you sucked one into your mouth, his hips bucked and he threw his head back, biting his lip to stifle any sounds. The sight had you squeezing your thighs together, but you forced your focus back onto the task at hand.
“Shit, baby…” He whispered. Other than his heavy breathing, the only other sound that filled the room was your mouth, licking and sucking as saliva started building up. If you were at home, the sounds would’ve been far more obscene and spit would’ve been dripping down your chin by now, but you tried to keep things quiet and mess free.
“Back on my cock.” He rushed out, stroking himself faster. You leaned up and wrapped your lips around him again, suckling on the head and swirling your tongue around it. One of your hands moved to gently play with his balls, giving him even more stimulation.
“Christ… Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.” He whispered, jerking himself impossibly faster. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down a little more. Instead of reprimanding you, he cursed under his breath and reached his free hand out toward you. “Hold my hand.” He begged. “I won’t be able to stop myself from pushing you down.” Even though your whole body was craving that, you knew it would be too loud, so you gave him your free hand and he squeezed it tight.
He didn’t give you any warning before his abs contracted as his whole body tensed up, then the first shot of come hit the back of your mouth. You let out a surprised sound and his grip on your hand got even tighter. He fisted his cock rapidly, giving you every last drop as his lips parted in a silent moan and his brows scrunched together from the pleasure.
Even though this seemed like one of the more tame ways you’ve given oral, it still felt dirtier than most. He wasn’t fucking your mouth or your throat, using you to get himself off. He was getting himself off and just using you as a cumdump. He wasn’t using you for pleasure, he was using you the same way he would a toilet, had he gone to the bathroom to jerk off. The thought had you moaning loudly before you could hold it in.
When his body finally relaxed and his hand slowed to a stop, you pulled off and opened your mouth, showing him how well you’d done your job. His cock twitched and you smiled even though your mouth was still open, making him curse under his breath. You finally closed your mouth and swallowed all of it, then opened it again and stuck your tongue out for him to see.
“Get up here.” He said almost breathlessly. With his hand still holding yours, he used it to pull you up until you were laying on your stomach, half on the bed and half on him. “You’re a damn tease, you know that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said innocently, with a small smirk.
