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aeyumicore · 2 months

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☾ .⭒˚ heartstring symphony ♡ xavier x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: xavier x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, pwf (so so so sooo many feelings like a whole ocean of feelings)

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 10.1k (oh lawd)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, tiny reference/spoiler to chapter 4 of the main story (grandma and caleb), references to xavier/overall lads lore, first time sex (not virginity loss), explicit sexual content, pure pure filth but also so fluffy and emotional, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving and m!receiving), lots of making out, pussy job, finger fucking, tongue fucking, cum as lube, references to xavier’s evol, slight use of y/n, switch!xavier, slight predator/prey play, somewhat vanilla

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommending watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://youtu.be/U-OanLwbSVE?si=Um0NFib7gQOTGrLq

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABIESSSSS COME GET YOUR FOOD. oof this one is a doozy. based off the memory ‘heartstring symphony’ with xavier, there’s a lot of small changes to the progression and the dialogue, but its largely on par with the original memory! there’s a lot of ‘plot’ building as this memory is a bit long and i really wanted to incorporate parts from the beginning, middle, and end so i ended up needing to write for the entire thing. the build up is kinda important to the smut but you can definitely still just skip to the smut (ya filthy hoes)!!

100% dedicated to my bestie who is the downest baddest bitch for xavier!

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾

the sunlight bounces off the sheen of the strawberries that are finally ripening enough to eat. it’d been months since xavier and you had started your quaint little rooftop garden atop his balcony, and your collective dedicated gardening was finally rewarded with the most beautiful crimson strawberries you’d ever seen. having been tasked with tending to his house plants on his sudden trip away, you found yourself spending a lot of time with the strawberries on xavier’s apartment’s balcony.

“but even though you’re bearing fruit, your owner isn’t here,” you murmur sadly, stroking the slightly sticky skin of the berries. okay sure, you were undoubtedly projecting your own feelings onto the poor little strawberries, but who could blame you? it’d been ten days since xavier had suddenly left town and similarly ten days since he’d responded to any of your text messages or returned any phone calls.

and dammit, you missed him. missed his deep groggy voice when he’d pick up your phone calls at 11 am asking if he’d had breakfast yet, his bewildered face when you’d barge into his apartment demanding that he take you to play crane games, the way he’d pretend not to notice when you swapped hands during kitty cards. ever since you’d first met the enigmatic hunter in the abandoned protocore research base on your first mission as an official hunter, you found both your night and day dreams being filled with the thought of him.

you’d even missed him enough to send a few regrettable late night texts, confessing just that. at 4am. you groaned inwardly at the embarrassment of recalling your deleted messages. really, no one should be allowed to send any text messages after 1am. least of all you, who had so many confusing unresolved feelings for the silver haired man in question.

the sound of keys jingling a door open snaps you out of your thoughts. your heart pounded, he was finally home! excitedly, you scrambled back into xavier’s apartment, to be met with the sight of him struggling to remove his uniform top. the sight of his sculpted torso on display before you like an absolute art piece, had you freezing in your tracks, cheeks heating at the glorious site before you. xavier also froze, his cerulean eyes locking with yours in surprise.

“you’re…here?” his voice was as warm as you'd remembered, the sound of it forever etched in your mind. but it sounded too soft, tired. exhausted even.

“y-yeah…the weather was good today and i wanted to check on the strawberries,” you attempted to remain calm and collected, turning around to stop from staring at his exposed stomach. but the plethora of injuries on his pale skin caught your eye. instantly, you were at his side, inspecting him and assessing his scars.

“...you got hurt?!” your heart hammered anxiously in your chest as you reached to touch him. he peered down at you guiltily, pulling his top back down to cover the scars. he gently pried your hands away from his abdomen, letting his fingers linger on your skin far longer than he’d needed to, the touch not going unnoticed by you.

“it’s nothing, let me go get changed,” xavier finally released your wrists and left you to wait on the couch for him. you felt on edge, waiting impatiently, feet tapping anxiously against the carpet. xavier finally reemerges from his room in a fresh set of indoor clothes, a ribbed white long sleeve and gray sweatpant joggers. you’d seen him in this exact outfit many times, but suddenly the way his sweatpants sat against his lap made your mind wander, but you shake the filthy thoughts out of your head. when he finally sits down next to you, you can’t help but fret over him, grabbing his arm to inspect his complexion.

“you went missing, and now you return all beaten up…why do you always make me worry?” you reprimanded, pouting slightly, “you’re wounded aren't you? does it hurt?” your fingers ghost over the bruises on his forearm, the veins there protruding slightly amongst the bulging muscles. xavier only turns away, unwilling to meet your gaze, but still leaving his arm in your lap.

his refusal to answer only makes you more desperate for reassurance that he’s alright. you try to lift his shirt, but he uses his free hand to grip your wrist, stopping you. you don’t notice the way he blushes at your touch.

“it’s nothing, just some minor scrapes.” while the mere sound of his voice does wonders to soothe your swimming mind, it does nothing to quell the anxiety you have over his well being. over where he’d been these last ten days. with not so much as a single text message to let you know he was okay, safe. that’s all you had wanted, to know he was safe.

“i think your definition of scrape and my definition differ greatly,” you mutter sulkily, trying to get him to meet your eyes. when he doesn’t, you take his face in your two hands, forcing him to level with you. his cheeks tinge a peachy red under your palms, his normally slow and controlled breath rapidly increasing at your touch.

“if your wounds aren’t treated they could get worse, get infected, and even become life-threatening,” you murmur, almost threatening him, unable to stop the worry from lacing into your words. you can tell he feels guilty, his eyes opting to stare at your shoulder instead of your eyes, “...this is nothing. i’m used to letting them heal without much thought.”

this does nothing to make you feel better, if anything it makes you feel worse, and you’re unwilling to relent, “the past is the past. this is the present.”

his eyes finally peer into your own, meeting your stubborn gaze. his deep blue orbs are intense, searching for something within your own. while his voice is deep, tired, undoubtedly exhausted, you can still sense the longing heat in them. he sighs, finally caving into your whims, “alright. so, what do you want me to do?”

and so you find yourself in xavier’s dimly lit living room, a first aid kit on your lap, and xavier shirtless in front of you. you try to ignore the fact that he’s very much half naked in front of you, his joggers sitting dangerously low on his waist. so much so that you can definitely see the indentation of his obliques forming a tight ‘v’. it was enough to turn your brain into mush, but you fought those intrusive thoughts away so you could tend to his injuries.

taking a deep breath to try and calm your raging nerves, you start, “is there a spot that hurts the most? or is really sensitive? i’ll try to be extra gentle when i apply the ointment.” your eyes linger on the way his collar bones frame the muscles on his chest, the skin there pure and untouched from the dark bruises forming on xavier’s shoulder and abs. you bite your lip to withhold the shiver threatening to overtake you at the image of xavier in all his muscular glory before you. his gentle voice brings you out of your filthy reverie.

“my neck.”

“hmm?” your eyes snap to his, cheeks flaming when you realize he’d caught you staring. he smiles gently, but thankfully doesn’t tease you.

“the most sensitive part of my body is my neck,” he says again, his words almost threatening to make you unleash the shiver you were holding back. refusing to let your mind wander more, you lean forward and begin carefully cleaning the wound that’s etched onto the muscles that connect his shoulders to his neck. while you wipe the cut with one hand, you use your other hand to rub comforting circles around the red skin surrounding it, hoping to ease the stinging.

xavier groans, his voice husky and drawn out. you can’t help but wonder what that sound would feel like under a different circumstance, but repress those thoughts deep deep down.

“does it hurt a lot?” you keep your eyes glued to the irritated skin, lightening the pressure at which you’re pressing down, not wanting him to feel any semblance of pain, ever.

“kind of.” xavier’s response is clouded in ambiguity, leaving you confused as to what he wants to say. before you can press him further he speaks again, “i appreciate you looking after things while i was gone.”

you sigh at his persistent nonchalance, as if he hadn’t just up and disappeared and come back beaten and bruised. you knew him well enough to know he’s not planning on telling you what had happened to injure him like this or why he had to leave town in the first place.

feeling childish, you decide two can play at that game, “you don’t need to thank me. neighbors should always look out for each other.” you force down the inexplicable emotions stirring inside of you that threaten to spill into your voice, continuing to tend to the cuts on his neck.

he doesn’t respond and the room becomes suffocatingly quiet. swapping the alcohol wipe for the ointment, you briefly peer up to find xavier staring at you with his intense blue eyes. you stubbornly refuse to waver from his stare, but he remains silent.

“what? if you have something to say, say it,” you demand, a bit snappishly, unable to contain the hurt you felt at his repeated silence, both now but also on his days away.

xavier remains gentle even at your abrasiveness, “you’re really close to me. all i can do is look at you.” despite yourself, you blush at his words, chest tightening. he keeps his eyes on yours and you can’t help but squirm under his emotion clouded blue eyes, though you couldn’t decipher exactly which emotion swam through them.

the silence envelopes the air once more as you refuse to speak. xavier speaks up again, his voice low and almost sad, “are you angry with me?”

your heart cracks at the vulnerability in his voice, but you can’t seem to let go of your own peeved feelings, “why would i be? we’re just acquaintances who happen to be neighbors.” you know you’re being unfair, but you can’t help but feel as if you deserve some kind of explanation. you cared about him, far more than he probably knew, and he just up and disappeared without a trace for ten days. and to top it all off, he came back looking like this.

“are the other neighbors like us?” though his words are simple, you can’t help but wonder if xavier is intending to say something else under the veil of those words.

no, you supposed to yourself, other neighbors probably did not feel the least bit in the way you felt for xavier. your hands tremble at the thoughts you can’t seem to push away, and you accidentally press a bit too deeply as you apply the ointment. xavier winces, his eyes finally unfocussing from yours and his brows furrowed in discomfort.

instantly you feel bad for being even the least bit annoyed with him. your voice is much gentler now, almost apologetic, “was i too rough? you're…does it hurt a lot?”

xavier smiles reassuringly at you, so warm and gentle despite your attitude and the undeniable pain of his injuries, your stomach can’t help but flutter at him, “sort of, but i’m alright.”

“that’s good,” is all you can sheepishly say as you find yourself lost in his expression.

“maybe the pain is so intense that i can’t feel anything,” xavier is smiling so you know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

“really? i didn’t mean to…”

the look he gives you is enough to shut you up. though he doesn’t say anything, his facial expression makes you wonder what exactly is going on in his mind. finally he speaks up, “it’s okay. i forgive you, and in exchange you’re not allowed to be angry at me anymore.”

“i told you that i wasn’t angry,” you sigh, “stay still. i’m going to apply the bandage.” xavier smiles and nods, straightening his posture obediently. you want to tease him, but instead diligently apply a bit of gauze to his neck and adhere it with some medical tape.

satisfied with your handiwork, you smile smugly, “all done. keep your wounds away from water and avoid eating spicy food for the next few days.” xavier mumbles something unintelligible under his breath, and when you look at him his head is bowed down so low you can’t even see his eyes. before you know it, he’s collapsing in your arms, completely passed out.

“x-xavier?!” you catch him easily, but his unconscious weight holds you down. xavier only murmurs groggily at your words. you can’t help but smile and rub his bare back adoringly. his skin is soft, and warm to the touch. you relish in the feel of his skin against yours and his presence enveloping you, having truly missed him so much.

“poor baby,” you sigh, contemplating on how you’ll be able to carry him to his bed.

with great effort, you’re able to haul xavier to his bedroom. as you bend down to lay him on his mattress, you trip over his feet. with his arms tangled in yours like a little koala holding on for dear like, you tumble onto the bed with him. you flop onto his mattress, and his arms tighten around you, locking you in place, tucked into his chest. you move to push him off you, but instead you accidentally graze his wrapped neck.

xavier moans, still deep in sleep, and his lip pouts as he grips you even tighter. you sigh in defeat at how content he looks with his arms wrapped around you, with his bottom lip sticking out slightly. you can’t help but admire xavier’s sleeping face, his long eyelashes tickling against your cheek. it’s not long before you find yourself being lulled to sleep by the warmth of his strong arms and the slow beating of his heart against yours.

–

you awaken to xavier tucking you into his blanket, his movements gentle as to not wake you. your breath hitches but you do your best to pretend to still be sleeping, unable to face him in this compromising situation. with any luck, xavier would get out of bed and you could pretend to wake up when he wasn’t so intimidatingly close to you.

but instead of getting up, xavier only lays back down beside you, nuzzling into your side. your heart races at the affection, biting your lip to keep from making any noise. his body heat against your own threatens to unleash a shiver of satisfaction across your body, but you force it back so as to not alert him that you are in fact awake.

xavier is so unbelievably close, you can feel his breath fanning against your exposed neck and his fingers stroking your palm. unable to withstand the suffocating tension, you pretend to wake up, feigning a yawn as you flutter your eyes open. you come face to face with xavier, his eyes, still groggy with sleep, analyzing your every movement. his gaze falls lower, seemingly watching your lips part with the steady inhale and exhale of your bated breath.

you squirm, trying to dissipate the tension, remembering to keep your voice groggy, “are you still tired? it’s not morning anymore, so maybe we should start thinking about what to eat.”

“you’re resting on my arm. i can’t move. at all.” you jolt upwards, and xavier retracts his arm, rubbing the tender muscles, no doubt they’d fallen asleep, up and down. you hid your blush underneath your hair, unsure of what to do next. you became hyper aware of the fact that you sat in xavier’s bed, with him. and he was so very shirtless.

luckily xavier speaks so you don’t have to, “i saw your texts from yesterday saying you were having trouble falling asleep. did you sleep well?”

“it was pretty good,” you answered earnestly, genuinely feeling more well rested than you had in weeks, but then your heart stuttered, “w-wait, you saw the message i deleted yesterday?!”

“yeah, i did. but i’m pretty sure it was a small peek,” his gentle smile changes to one of a teasing grin, “xavier, if you don’t respond, i’m going to eat all the strawberries. all of them.” he raises the octave in his voice to mock you. to say you’re mortified would be an extreme understatement.

trying to deflect from the fact that he’d in fact seen your embarrassing late night texts, you counter, “but i didn’t. i saved you a small bowl!”

he continues, deadset on his mission to embarrass the hell out of you, his grin radiant enough to stop your heart. which you might actually prefer to the sheer embarrassment of being called out like this, “the moment i think about you being somewhere else annoys me to the point where i can’t sleep at all.”

you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly defensive, “well, of course! you can’t just ask someone to look after your stuff and then ghost them. if that’s not being unreasonable then i don’t know what is!”

xavier glances at you, his voice calm but his eyes holding inexplicable emotions that you cannot decipher, “oh, and there's one text that i can't forget.” you hold your breath, already knowing which one it is. undoubtedly the worst, most incriminating one of them all.

“i think i miss you.” groaning, you cover your eyes with your hands and fall back against the bed. xavier laughs, propping up on his side to face you, his fingers brushing some stray strands of hair away from your cheek, hooking them behind your ear.

“...you saw every message!” you accused, peeking at him through the cracks of your fingers still covering your eyes. but didnt respond to any of them, you want to add, but hold yourself back.

his expression is that of pure innocence, “i was going to reply to them, but then i got caught up in something. and you deleted them a second later. i could only pretend that i didn’t see anything.” and then slowly, almost painfully, he adds, “maybe those messages weren't meant for me.”

despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t possibly let xavier think those thoughts were for anyone but him. the flicker of dejection in his eyes is enough to have you spilling out the truth, “...okay, i didn’t send them to the wrong person!” your cheeks burn and you’re sure you look just as red as one of the strawberries on the balcony. you prop up on your own side to face him, “i missed you. but that’s not the point!” your lips jut out to pout at him, feeling like an attention-seeking toddler that had gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

xavier, the relief and longing palpable in his eyes, reaches his free arm out to cup your cheek in his palm, “and i missed you too.” his voice is low, nothing more than a whisper, making your breath catch in your throat.

his thumb brushes across the corner of your lip, “unbearably so.” his intimate touch literally rewires your brain, making you throw all inhibitions out the window. the tidal wave of emotions you’d had on a tight leash, floods through the dam. unable to control yourself, you firmly push him down on the bed and straddle him, making sure to avoid any of the bruises on his abdomen.

“why did you leave me?!” you whine, surprising xavier and even yourself with your assertiveness. he rests his hands atop your thighs, as they cage him beneath you. his body is warm under your own, and you feel the heat manifesting in your gut at the intimate closeness of your bodies.

his surprised expression is quickly replaced with one of cool and calm, despite the fact that you were literally on top of him like he’d secretly imagined several times before, “why are you so worried about me?”

“...when there are bad people and wanderers out there, of course i’ll be worried about you,” your voice softens at the very thought. the emotions coursing through you make your voice waver, no matter how hard you try to steel yourself.

xavier smiles warmly at you, his hands wandering upwards to your waist and then to your lower back. you’re acutely aware of his hands on you and it causes your confidence to tremor, your stomach bubbling in anticipation at his touch.

“and yet, you’re way more dangerous than any wanderer could be,” his voice is throaty, tinged with need and desire and his eyes find your lips once more.

“this is different. i would never hurt you,” you counter, your hands resting against his broad chest. confidence returning ever so slightly, you dust your fingers against his delicate skin. you come close to his nipples, but narrowly and intentionally miss them. xavier’s hands on your back grip harder, not enough to hurt but enough to leave you breathless and wanting more. you can feel him squirm beneath you, eyes pleading with yours. for what, you’re unsure.

“yes, but i don’t have the strength to resist you at the moment.” xavier’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, has hands digging further into the sensitive skin of your lower back. you writhe on top of him, to which he lets out a faint moan, just barely audible in the crackling air around you.

your voice is but a rasping murmur, as you throw caution to the wind, giving into all the inexplicable emotions your heart held for the man beneath you. at your mercy, “then…don’t.”

at your words, xavier pushes you down towards him with the hands he had on your back. you offer no resistance, fully letting him guide your face to his own. and like you’d day dreamed so many times before, xavier takes your lips into his. softly, reverently, but so hungrily.

your fingers entangle in his pale locks, gripping gently as his lips mold perfectly against yours. you sigh into his mouth as your breaths merge together. you breathe him in, basking in his radiance, all around you. xavier’s hands leave your back to hold the plush of your thighs, kneading softly but so possessively. your thighs clench around his hard torso, and you can’t help but rock yourself into him until you are resting on his lap, on his crotch. his hands tighten on your thighs, the grip a clear message, a wordless command for you to behave.

his tongue caresses your lips, a silent request for entry. you obediently part them, allowing him access to every part of you. when his tongue ghosts against yours for the very first time, you moan so deep and pleadingly that you can feel xavier’s smile against your lips. his hands wander up and down your back again mapping out all the ridges of your spine against your thin shirt.

you’d imagined kissing xavier for the first time, many many times, but none of those silly little daydreams could amount to this. your imagination paled in comparison to the real thing, so willing, pliant, and tender underneath you. ready to do anything to serve you.

you finally pull away, gasping for air but only craving his breath against yours again, you can’t help but ask meekly, “is this okay?”

you can see the answer in xavier’s eyes, but he responds still, “more than okay. is it okay for you?”

breathlessly, you trail your thumb across his bottom lip and mirror his words, “more than okay.” you’re suddenly hit with the reminder of just how much xavier had you worrying these past few days. feeling mischievous, you stare down at him, face flushed pink and lips swollen with saliva. your fingers trail down his cheek, careful not to touch his sensitive neck, and onto his chest, “i should teach you a lesson so you never make me worry like that again.”

between his breathless pants, he’s intrigued, “...what do you want?” his hands flit to the waistband of your pants, playing with the material and letting his fingers brush against the skin of your waist. you hold back a tremble, and instead of answering him, you decide to just show him. dragging your fingers across his muscular chest, you let your thumbs brush against his hardening nipples. xavier’s sharp inhale is immediate and you feel him clench his hands against your hips. you lean your face down to trail a path of small kisses down his chest, over his bruises, all the way to his naval.

you can feel him trembling beneath your every touch as he grinds out, “is this my punishment?” his hand reaches up to weave his fingers through your hair, collecting the pieces that fall to your eyes as you bend down to kiss his skin.

grinning, you sit back up, taking his cheeks in between your fingers and squish. you can never help but to tease xavier, his adorable reactions always leaving you wanting more. you release his face from your hold, only for him to mirror your actions right back at you. his fingers are delectably rough as they grip your chin.

“i can do that too. like this.” his face is so full of amusement, making you want to retaliate further. so you let your hands wander back up his chest, slowly moving to wrap around his neck. you see xavier’s eyes widen in surprise as your fingers delicately tickle the sides of his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath them. as your nails flicker across the sensitive skin of his neck, xavier lets out a groan that sounds suspiciously like a whimper.

“ahh, please,” he whines. you notice that his hands have slipped under your shirt now, but not venturing upwards, ever the gentleman.

you giggle at his vulnerability, “you’re injured and don’t know how to take care of yourself,” you hand ventures from xavier’s neck to hold his face in between your fingers again, “you’re like a helpless animal about to be eaten.” your voice is a teasing coo, and you bend down slowly, torturously grinding your core along his crotch. he hisses again, fingers digging into your bare skin as if hoping to slow you down. but instead, you lean into the crook of where his neck meets his shoulder, on the side that’s uninjured, and press a barely there kiss into the skin. even at the faintest touch along his neck, xavier groans and presses his lower half harder into you. to stop your own moans, and maintain the upper hand, you bite into xavier’s neck. he swears and his fingers crush into your sides, and you squeal into his neck but your lips stay latched.

his skin is so sweet between the gentle teasing of your teeth, his pheromones invading all your senses. as you suckle on the sensitive skin there, you continue to rock your lower half against him, pleasantly surprised at the feel of his bulging erection against you. your filthy day dreams of him paled in comparison to the sheer girth of what sat beneath you now.

“you’re not worried about me – hah, retaliating?” but you ignore him, instead relishing in the sound of his pants in response to your touch. never in your wildest dreams did you imagine xavier would be this reactive.

he continues his delectable moans at your ear, “h-hah, fuck – w-wait. love please,” your core clenches at the endearment and you detach yourself from xavier’s neck, a flushed bruise starting to form where your lips previously sat. xavier hardens further at your disheveled sight. lips red, swollen, and shiny with saliva, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of red, eyes hazy with lust. he was fighting from coming undone at the sight alone.

“wh-what? is this not okay?” you pause, worrying you had crossed a boundary, but you can’t help the gentle and uncontrollable tremors your core makes against his crotch, almost like the aftershock of an earthquake. he groans in response, his head falling back deeper into the pillow as his eyes clenched shut.

his big hands squeeze your thighs reassuringly, and his right palm reaches up to cup your cheek. you lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his warm and protective hand against your flushed cheek. he repeats his words from earlier, “it’s more than okay. you don’t know how long i’ve waited to have you like this.” his words are filled with a vast expanse of emotions, but one you can make out is indescribable and utter love. like he’d been waiting an eternity for you to fall into place in his life.

his hands trails down to play with the buttons on your top, fingers grazing the exposed skin on your chest. you shiver as he says, “but i want — i need to savor this moment with you.”

in that moment you think about the way your heart has always throbbed at the thought of xavier. you think you’ve loved him for a while, it always felt like your life was destined to intertwine with his, in unexplainable ways. you’d long given up on fate, especially after caleb and grandma. but looking at the azure eyed man beneath you, you couldn’t help but think that that very fate had brought you two here today. so when you intertwine your fingers with his hand that toys with unbuttoning your top and bring your joined palms up against your heart, you don’t hesitate to confess, “you have me, forever.”

at your declaration, the expression on xavier’s face is a haze of inexplicable emotions. with the faintest sliver of hesitation and something that sounds an awful like sorrow he finally murmurs, “and you’ve had me, forever.”

unable to withstand the intensity of his longing stare and the weight of his words, you dip back down to capture his lips with yours, returning his heavy words with an equally passionate kiss. your hands move to stroke up and down his naked chest, before landing on his neck, using your thumb to feel the thrumming of his unusually erratic pulse. with your free hand you encourage his fingers that fiddle with the buttons of your blouse, urging him to undo the confines. you can tell xavier is holding back, likely doing his best to tread the fine line between careful respect for you and losing all control.

reluctantly, you withdraw from him, whispering through your gasps, “xavier…please. i want this. i want you.”

his eyes are misted with lust and adoration, his body stiffening even further. his voice is as deep as you’ve ever heard it, “are you sure y/n? you have to be sure. i-i’m scared i won’t be able to stop.”

softly, you use your fingers to trace over the hickey you’ve left behind on his neck. his breath catches and you can see the control slipping from his grasp. slowly, you bring your fingers to unbutton your blouse yourself. painfully slow, each finger taking its time to unlatch each enclosure, and you murmur, “i won’t want you to stop.”

his eyes are locked on you, as you slip the blouse off your shoulders, leaving you in your white satin bra. his jaw tightens at the sight of you and he grabs your thighs, “don’t say i didn’t warn you.” and with those words, xavier’s thick arms are lifting you into the air and throwing you gently underneath him. in a flash, his heavy body is on top of yours, your legs parted to accommodate his unbelievably built stature. you squeal in surprise at his dominance, the sound cutting through the thick sexual tension in the air. xavier smiles down at you, the dangerous glint in his eyes making heat flare between your legs. the slick forming in between your folds is unmistakable and you bite your lip to keep the moans at bay.

“am i still a helpless animal? since you seem to know everything, you should enlighten me.” the deep purr in his voice edges on a primal growl, like a predator with its prey between its claws. it’s enough to have you submitting to his every whim. how quickly xavier has turned the tables on you, his hand now gently pressed against your own neck, has rendered you a stuttering dripping mess.

“x-xavier…”

but he silences you, placing his index finger over your lips, his other hand moving downwards to stroke the soft satin of your bra, his fingers flitting dangerously close to the skin of the swell of your breasts, “when faced with a hunter that knows my weakness and how to take advantage of them, is there anything i can do?” you’ve never heard xavier so threateningly dominating, so demanding. it leaves you utterly speechless, your previous upper hand gone completely.

“perhaps i should teach you a lesson.”

you shudder at his words. his hands reach under your back to unhook your bra and you arch off the bed to allow him to slip it off effortlessly. fully exposed before him, xavier’s eyes burn with such intense heat it intimidates you, so you instinctively cover your breasts. xavier doesn’t speak, instead dipping his head down to trail delicate kisses along your arms, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. your breath comes out in shallow pants as he gently pries your arms away, and presses an open mouthed kiss to the swell atop your right breast.

you shiver uncontrollably under his warm lips, needing more friction, “p-please xavier.”

xavier’s wide grin is uncontainable, “look who’s the helpless animal now?” but despite his teasing, xavier indulges your pleas, capturing your nipple in his warm and waiting mouth. you’re unable to stop the gasp that tumbles out of your lips, your body arching off the bed only to be met with xavier’s heavy body pressing you back down. xavier’s muffled moans against your sensitive skin send your eyes into the back of your skull. as the pleasure threatens to overtake your melting mind, you press your dampening crotch into his erection even further trying to gain more friction. he groans, deep and hoarse, making you peer down at your chest and at him. your eyes meet.

the eye contact as he devours you is enough for your climax to start creeping in, your hand wedging between the two of you to grasp his cock through his sweatpants. your hands are met with the alarming dampness of his pre cum seeping through the gray fabric that frames his bulging erection. you bite your lip at the sheer mass you hold in your hands, your fingers tracing just how thick he was.

xavier’s tongue continues to flick along your nipple as your hand slowly makes its way under his waistband and under his boxer briefs. with his pubic hair tickling your palm, you brush your fingers against his thick erection. your touch earns your breast a harsh nip which causes you to cry out. the pleasure and pain is so blinding you find yourself needing to grip onto his cock just to keep succumbing to your impending orgasm, rooting you to reality.

“h-hah, y/n, please…ah, not so tight please,” xavier’s voice is a desperate whine, as he pants against the swell of your breast. at his urging you release his manhood from your grip ever so slightly, but keep it trapped in your palm, your hand has a mind of its own, unable to stop from stroking his length up and down, brushing against the single bulging vein alongside it. he leaks so much pre cum that it feels like he’s already pumped his release all over himself. you collect it all, using it to fist his cock in your hands while he ravages your breasts.

“you’re, hah, making me ruin my pants love,” xavier pants against you, descending upon your body until you’re forced to release him, much to your dismay. he slots his lips in the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of wet kisses slowly down your body. when he reaches your belly button, his hands reach to remove your pants and panties in one fell swoop. the cold air nips at your exposed core, as xavier removes the tangle of clothing from your limbs

completely exposed before him, xavier rakes his eyes all over your bare body, admiring every inch of you and breathes out a single word, “beautiful.” you blush under his gaze and you clasp your thighs tight in an attempt to hide but xavier keeps your legs open, his grip tight on your knees. with his eyes locked on yours, he guides your calves onto his shoulders, careful to avoid his bandages. you feel nervous as he comes face to face with your undoubtedly soaking cunt, and to your utter embarrassment he notices it too.

“you’re so wet already. is this all for me?” while his words are teasing, his tone is earnest, almost in awe.

“w-wait xavier, you’re injured. i don’t want you to strain yourself. l-let me–”

his eyebrows arch at you, “you said i should stay away from spicy foods, you never said anything about this. let me enjoy myself.” without letting you protest any further, he lowers his face onto your waiting cunt, his mouth unbelievably warm against your own burning core. you cry out, your back arching to the point it feels as if it may snap. with your legs on xavier’s shoulders, your lower half is elevated nearly a foot off the bed, his hands on your thighs supporting your entire body.

xavier’s tongue is fervent and attentive. he explores every inch of you, mapping out which areas make you sing with the most pleasure. his tongue alternates between dipping in and out of your entrance and caressing your clit while his hands move to prop you up by your ass. as he feasts on you, his hands knead the fat of your rear.

“x-xavier please. so so s’good,” you wail, hands digging deep into his comforter, wishing your hands could reach his hair, his face, anything. your clit feels like it might explode in pure ecstasy under xavier’s tongue, making you unable to control your mouth. your words make him harden impossibly more, still restrained in his soaked sweatpants. he groans into your core, the vibrations intensifying your pleasure. you can feel your orgasm racing towards you, which makes your thighs tremble around his face. suddenly, he stops and lifts his head. you whine at the loss of his tongue and the disruption of your climax, almost collapsing into the bed if it wasn’t for his strong arms supporting you.

“can i put a finger in?” his eyes are pleading, as if he’s worried you might deny him.

your head bobs eagerly, and you have to hold yourself back from telling him he can literally do whatever he pleases with you, “god, yes. just don’t stop, please.”

“you’re so adorable when you beg for me,” he grins as his lips find your clit once more as he eases not one but two fingers into your waiting hole. your moans fill the room at being so suddenly and pleasantly filled to the brim, your eyes rolling into your brain. xavier’s pace leaves nothing to be desired, his movement producing absolutely filthy noises to mix with the sounds of your moans. you can feel him scissoring his fingers in and out, stretching you out against his soaking hands.

“you’re so tight even around just my fingers…” he trails off in wonder, pondering how he’d possibly fit himself inside you, if you’d allow him.

“m’s-sorry,” you pant against his ministrations stretching you to the fullest you’ve ever felt, “xavier, th-think i might cum soon.”

your words fuel him further, the squelching sounds music to his ears. the pleasure is endless and you’re starting to see white. without stopping his fingers, he murmurs against your clit, “please give it to me. cum for me, love. i need it.”

combined with his expert fingers weaving in and out of you, his demand sends your hurtling through your orgasm. your thighs threaten to crush his skull as they tremble uncontrollably on his shoulders. you release all over his face, his mouth still latched onto you, gushing into his waiting mouth as you chant his name like a prayer. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, giving your aching clit a much needed break while still working you through your fierce orgasm. you softly scream in response to this warm tongue inside of you, shuddering through the final waves of your orgasm while xavier laps up all of your release, not letting even a single drop be wasted.

as your body heaves, xavier removes himself from your thighs, softly setting you down against the bed. he murmurs, “you taste so good. better than i ever imagined.”

his words fuel you with confidence, and you feel the irresistible urge to return all the pleasure xavier just gave you. your thighs are absolute jelly, but you crawl to your knees to face him. taking his face into your hands, you lean in so your lips are millimeters apart and whisper, “my turn please.”

xavier’s eyes smolder, and he lets himself be pushed down backwards onto the bed, with you slotting between his thighs like he’d done to you. feeling confident from the aftermath of your orgasm, you lean down and kiss his bulge through his soaked sweatpants. he hisses, as his hands cup the back of his head on the pillow. his reactions only serve to embolden you further, and you lick a strip down his pants, relishing in the salty taste of his pre cum on your tongue. unable to wait further, you pull his joggers and undergarments down together, and his cock springs free. your confidence wavers as you’re met with xavier in all his glory. he was unbelievably thick, and the vein you’d felt earlier bulged deliciously against the pale pink skin. you unconsciously lick your lips at the challenge before you, taking him into both your hands and sinking down to lap up the pearly white beads that had formed on his tip, threatening to spill over.

xavier lets out a guttural groan, his hands leaving his head to thread through your hair. he whines as you take his tip into your mouth, gripping your hair gently. the salty, yet surprisingly sweet, taste invades your mouth as you struggle to accommodate his girth in between your lips. determined to please him, you bob down deeper as your tongue lathers the sides of his cock attentively.

“h-hah shit.” xavier is a grunting mess beneath you, “my – ahh – beautiful girl. you’re doing so, fuck, s’good.” he hits the back of your throat, tears streaming down your face. you bob slowly, your jaw aching already as you do your best to take him. with your hands you stroke the parts of him that aren’t in your mouth.

xavier’s hands in your hair are slowly guiding your head up and down, encouraging you take him a bit faster. you gag against him, his moans letting you know how much he enjoys your throat closing around his length. while his thickness threatens to split your jaw, you can’t help but enjoy how he feels inside your mouth, an endless dribble of pre cum your reward for taking him so well. after a few minutes of this, xavier’s hands tighten in your hair.

“s-stop.” you peer up at him through your wet eyelashes. hes propped up on his elbows now, staring at you with an intensity that excites you to your core.

“i…i need to be inside you. is that okay?” he asks, but it feels more like a command. more than willing to indulge him, you lick the stray beads of pre cum that had found their way onto your lips, and you get on your knees so you can seat yourself on top of him. using your soaked slit, you grind on his saliva and pre cum slicked erection, whimpering while it catches on your clit, still sensitive from his tongue.

xavier massages your thighs soothingly, his smile is as radiant as ever, “don’t worry love. take your time. i’m yours to use however you’d like.” his words fuel your pulsating cunt, and you continue to grind on him, letting his tip ghost along your entrance, but not allowing him in. your teasing drives him to the edge of madness and you love seeing his undoing all over his facial expression. the friction combined with his reactions to you are enough to have your second orgasm building in your stomach. the mixture of your arousals lets him glide so easily in and out of your thighs between your leaking slit.

you’ve definitely never tried this before, but the anticipation of using just your pussy lips to pleasure the both of you is so exciting. the sounds of your combined slick so lewd against both your bodies. his cock so close to just entering your waiting hole and devouring you whole. it’s all enough to have you cumming again right then and there, but you know the next time you finish you need it to be with him stuffed deep inside you.

“so big xavier…don’t know if it’ll fit..” you whine, not daring to halt your movements across his cock.

“it will baby, i’ll make sure it fits.” you shiver at his words and finally, you allow yourself to sink down onto him. you wail at the impossible stretch, much more than his two fingers. honestly you’d wished he would’ve used four fingers as that might’ve prepped you better, more accurate to what was stuffed inside you now.

your thighs tremble as you’re able to take his head fully in. the stretch is uncomfortable, but you’re wet enough where there’s as little resistance as physically possible. xavier throws his head back and pants out words of encouragement, hands kneading into your thighs.

“y’you’re so fucking tight it feels like you’re trying to snap it off,” he grits, eyes glued to where your body connects with his. you lower yourself steadily, and you finally seat yourself fully, his cock pulsing excitedly inside you. you gasp for air taking a second to situate yourself before you can even think of moving again. xavier is no better under you, sweat forming on his forehead from the pleasure alone, his chest heaving up and down rhythmically.

“m’gonna move now, ‘kay?” you warn him breathlessly, surprised your brain is even able to still form words.

xavier is equally fucked out, begging shamelessly, “please. need to feel you.” though xavier is the one pleading underneath you, you’re not a fool. ever the wolf in sheep’s clothing, you know he is the one in control of the situation, even if you’re the one setting the pace on top of him.

his pleas are enough to get your thighs moving, rocking up and down, back and forth. you squeeze your eyes shut, falling forward so your clit can catch on the thick muscles alove his pubic bone. xavier’s hands on your thighs inch up to your waist to better guide you along as your pelvis rhythmically gyrates back and forth to better feel him against your clit and inside you.

“hah, i’ve always loved it when you take control on missions. so pretty – shit – f’me, using my cock like this,” xavier pants, holding onto your body for dear life.

the pleasure of his words swims straight to your head, and you can feel your brain turning to mush as you use xavier’s cock to pleasure yourself in ways you’d never dreamed of feeling. you can vaguely hear his endless grunts and whines of encouragement as your heart pounds in your ears. the earth shattering orgasm creeping up on you builds monumentally, much more intense than the one that’d already ravaged your body.

xavier’s breathy cries snap you back into the present, “sh-shit slow down. if you don’t–hah– slow down m’gonna–” he cuts himself off, swearing as he feels you tighten even further around him. as if needing something to hold onto to steel himself, he uses one hand to grasp your breast, squeezing forcefully. you yelp at the painful ecstasy, your steady pace faltering and giving both of you a second to slow down your impending orgasms.

not giving him too much time to recover, you begin rocking again, slowly, torturously, and passionately, unable to stop yourself from chasing the pleasure only he can give you. your hand is planted on his abs to steady yourself. xavier’s eyes lock onto your joined crotches, mesmerized by the motions you make that are akin to the ocean waves pulling in and out of the beach. you pulsate around him wildly and he throbs inside you rhythmically, your bodies meshing perfectly.

as your head is thrown back, your eyes once again inching into your skull, xavier thumbs at your clit. you squeal and contract at the waves of pleasure he induces onto your body with a single touch.

xavier swears inexplicably at your vice grip on his length, knowing your body is pushing him rapidly towards his finish. your slow and intentional bounces have him seeing stars, but he needs more. keeping his thumb steadily drawing circles in your aching bundle of nerves, he uses his other hand to grip your waist and guide you along, faster and harder.

his eyes admire your naked beauty on top of him, he pants out, “s’perfect, y/n. you’re beautiful you know that?”

at his words, you’re a faltering moaning mess as the rhythm xavier sets has his tip hitting deep in your gummy walls, stroking your sweetest spots at every thrust. at this point xavier’s hand does much of the work, your thighs threatening to give out as the only thing your brain can focus on is the pure pleasure of his cock reaching the most sensitive spots right before your cervix.

you’re reaching a point of no return, unable to stop your babbling mess, “x-xavier you’re s’deep, s’big. splitting me open.” you can feel the mixture of slick against the underside of your thighs, smearing against his pelvis as your bodies slap against each other.

“baby you’re making such a mess…hah..fuck is this all for me?”

you whine at his words, “s’all for you xavier..m’all yours.” thighs still burning as you do your best to bounce on him, you grip your breasts with your hands as xavier uses you like a toy. he seems to know exactly where your g spot is, and he hits it every single time, almost as if he knows your body far better than even you. you’re coming impossibly close to your climax, but you can’t fathom this moment between you two ending.

“come here,” xavier whispers desperately, “let me taste you.” with his hands still shoved between your bodies, playing with your clit, you bend down towards him and let him take your lips into his once more. his soft lips are urgent as they take you, and you can almost feel a lifetime of emotions xavier has kept from you. you respond with the same desperation, wanting to show him how much he has invaded your very being. your body, your mind, your heart and soul. it all felt hopelessly intertwined with xavier, and you couldn’t fight it. you didn’t want to fight it.

his tongue, cock, and fingers ravage you in perfect unison. the blinding tension in your gut threatens to boil over, and you try to warn him, “x-xav, can’t take much more.”

“you’re doing so good for me, y/n. i can–f-fuck–feel how close you are. please, cum for me,” he pants, his breath mingling with yours. doing your best to maintain your rhythm amidst the climax that descends upon you like a tsunami, you sink your lips into xavier’s neck, careful to avoid his cuts. the moan that he responds with is a deep guttural warning. that he’s as close to coming undone as you are.

with renewed vigor you bounce atop xavier, absolutely needing to hear him fall apart for you. you spear yourself onto his ever hardening and throbbing erection as his thumb on your clit sends you into oblivion. the bone crushing orgasm descends upon you, and you bite down on xavier’s pulsing neck. You let out a string of incoherent babbles right by his ear, and he eats up every single cry you make for him. the tsunami consumes you, manifesting in uncontrollable waves of tremors around xavier’s leaking cock inside you. wailing through your orgasm, right into his ear, xavier takes you into his arms completely and bounces you violently on top of him, desperately chasing his own release.

“fffuck, you’re milking me y/n,” xavier groans through gritted teeth, “makin’ a mess all over my bed.”

you alternate between nibbles and soothing licks against his neck, feeling how he swelled inside you at his sensitive neck being ravaged. you could tell xavier was impossibly close, feeling his heartbeat throb in his cock as he speared your overstimulated core onto him with every ounce of fleeting energy he had left.

exhausted and completely fucked out, you murmur into his ear, “xavier, please. i-inside. make me yours.” you plant a gentle wet kiss on the deep red bruise you’d etched into his neck. It resembles the strawberries you’d grown together on the balcony.

xavier’s deep and incomprehensible swears ensue, “you’re mine. say it y/n, please.” his thrusts are erratic now, losing himself to the pleasure of your body perfectly wrapped around him.

you squeeze your eyes shut, suckling gently on the hickies you’ve littered across his pale neck, “m’yours xavier, now and always.”

your words send him toppling over the edge, letting out a strangled groan as you feel him release deep inside your cunt, pumping his release as deep as it will go. it’s unbelievably soothing, the warm milky seed relieving some of the ache in your throbbing hole from his intense ravishing.

despite the overstimulation, xavier continues to thrust lazily in and out of you, wanting to keep every drop of his spend sealed inside you, as deep as it will possibly go. it makes him wince, but he can’t bear the thought of any of it being wasted when it belongs inside you. but you tap his pecs pointedly, still laying completely naked and soaked on top of him, and whine, “s’too sensitive xavier.”

he chuckles and brings your face to his, this time pressing a slow and sensual kiss to your lips. you close your eyes, enjoying the feel of his soft lips against yours, your bodies connected in more places than one. with your head still on his broad and muscular chest, you relish in the slowing and soft thumps of his calming heartbeat, absolutely content and blissed out. xavier strokes your hair with one hand, his fingers massaging your scalp, and his other hand rests tightly on the small of your back. as if he’s scared you might disappear at any moment.

inevitably, his softening member threatens to slip out, but you’re much to fucked out to be able to move a single muscle. xavier shuffles gently, and you feel him lifting your body off of him and onto the space beside him. he moves again to shift off the bed, presumably to grab a washcloth to wipe you off, but you clutch his bicep and bury your face into his muscular side.

“please don’t go,” you whisper. he looks hesitant, wanting to clean you up and take care of you like you deserve.

“i can’t fall asleep counting stars. i need them to stay by my side,” you mumble sleepily, not even caring that the mixture of your collective release dripped down your rear and onto the bed beneath you. when he doesn’t respond, you peer up at him, and find yourself in awe of the man before you.

while his face is utterly exhausted, the sleep in his eyes clouding his azure blues, he almost glows. because of his evol, xavier is always incandescent, but this is different. its almost as if his sweat slicked skin illuminates in the soft rays of fading daylight that spill into his bedroom. he catches your stare and he smiles so brilliantly at you that you feel like you’re in the presence of the sun itself. like he’s an angel sent from the heavens to derail your entire life.

he relaxes back down beside you, covering the two of you with his thick comforter. fixating on the sounds of your soft breathing, xavier softly tucks you into his side, with his arm around the back of your shoulders. finally, he speaks gently and so heartbreakingly apologetically, “i’m sorry. i should've responded to your messages.”

“honestly, i’m not that upset,” you sigh into his warm chest muscles that feel better than any pillow ever could. propping onto your side to face him, worry laces into your voice, “but xavier, you fell asleep after getting injured. aren’t you still tired?”

his voice is thick with sleep, deep and comforting to your ears, “yeah.”

“will a good night’s sleep fix everything?”

with his fingers tracing patterns into your naked back, xavier’s pensive for a brief moment. his answer is thoughtful and earnest, “only if you stay and sleep next to me.”

the butterflies that erupt in your stomach bloom into your chest and you're incapable of keeping your voice steady while you continue your line of questioning, “is that why you always say everything’s fine and don’t tell me when you’ve been gravely wounded?”

he hesitates as you stare at him, his arm still wrapped protectively over you.

seconds tick by, “i’m leaving if you don’t answer.” you even make a show of trying to get up, knowing damn well you’re not going anywhere. xavier’s grip on you tightens, quite possessively.

“i promise it won’t ever happen again,” his eyes convey so much more than his words as he stares into your very being. the ardor in his blue eyes overwhelms you with emotions that sting your eyes.

“will there ever be a day when you fall asleep and never wake up?” the question comes tumbling out of your lips before you can even stop it. there’s really no reason for you to even fathom that this could happen, but something inside you demands an answer from the silver haired man wrapped around you.

xavier is silent for an agonizing moment, but takes your hand into his, placing a warm kiss onto it. you shiver at the feel of his lips against your hand. it feels like much more than just a fleeting kiss, but a promise, “if such a thing ever happens, you – and only you – must remember to wake me up.”

you fall back into the crook of where his chest connects with his arm, satisfied with his response, for now. with your hand still in his, you nuzzle into him, doing your best to avoid the trail of injuries that still stained his beautiful glowing skin.

and it felt so good, so right to be held by xavier like this. xavier wondered how it could be that you fit so perfectly into his arms, into his life. you both knew there was a heavy conversation to be had, about where this left the two of you. as friends, as hunting partners, but especially as two people whose fates were so indescribably interwoven with each other. you both decided you’d save that for later, opting to savor the perfect bliss of this moment.

xavier’s unable to keep his hands off you, innocently grazing against every inch of skin he can. his fingers trace unintelligible patterns on your back and his right hand rubs soothingly up and down between your thigh and your hips. his comforting touch feels so inexplicably right, like two stars written in the night sky. xavier was your shooting star, after all.

just before sleep consumes you, you feel out for him, “xavier?” you’re unsure if he’s still awake as you await his response.

“yes love?” from his voice you can tell he is on the cusp of dozing off, still with his hands all over you. your heart flutters at his words.

“you better not ever scare me like that again,” your voice, thick with exhaustion, is anything but threatening as you kiss the skin of his chest muscles.

his languid chuckle is deeper than usual, his stroking halts as he grips your thigh tight, drawing you closer to him and pressing an adoring kiss to your forehead, “if this is my punishment, then i can’t make any promises.”

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tootiecakes234 · 4 months

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Random Big Three One Piece NSFW Headcanons:

(I’m DEEP into my one piece era)

Luffy

First and foremost he loves using his devil fruit powers on you. Will stretch his fingers that little bit further inside you or expand his dick to fill you just that little bit more.

Honestly I feel like he has a high sex drive considering his high drive in every other aspect of life.

At the beginning he is all about his self satisfaction but over time he learns how to be a more generous lover.

He has a huge appetite and I feel like that carries over into eating you. He eats all of you. You also have to teach him to kiss cuz in the beginning he acted like he was chewing on a piece of jerky😭

Will do a swift little aftercare but he only cuddles when he is going to sleep. He can’t sit still for too long otherwise.

Zoro

Loves coming home from a mission that almost killed him! And before he’s even fully healed, sinking right into you. Chopper (who along with the rest of the crew can hear your “activities” ) tries to tell him to take it easy but no!

He also likes to touch and hit on you in front of Sanji to make him jealous. He’s not even the biggest fan of PDA but he does it cuz he knows it gets under the chefs skin.

Really likes smacking his dick against you whether it be your face, your cunt, your tits. Loves when his precum splatters all over you.

This man loves to record and critique the video afterwards. Mostly himself tho. Also learns what you seem to like most and what you don’t. Improves his technique for next time.

When he’s tired, he lays back and makes you do all the work. Teases you when you cant keep it up and takes forever to take mercy on you and help out.

Sanji

Sanji’s favorite thing in the whole world is feeding you a good meal, running you a warm bath, rubbing you down with a moisturizer while giving you a massage and then fucking you nice and slow till all either of you can do is fall asleep in each others arms

Baby boy is so obsessed with everything that is you. You breathe on him in a certain way or look him in the eye a second too long and he’s hard.

He 100% strikes me as a lady should never be down on her knees” type. But he only says that shit to be courteous. If you do tho, he’ll put a pillow down underneath you to put your knees on. Or he’ll ask you to do it while he’s laying down so you can lay between his legs.

Sneaks you onto the deck of the ship to eat his favorite meal underneath the stars.

Sanji is so vocal. Asking how you’re feeling, telling you how good you’re doing, and just generally whimpering and moaning in your ear.

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mysacredmuse · 2 months

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soft bf! aventurine headcanons <3 written with gender neutral reader in mind. fluff ! :) there is a small angsty part, but ends up fluffy ehe

let me know if you want more of this, a different character or a different (nsfw) version :3

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

spoils you rotten. No matter how many times you tell him that it's absolutely unecessary, he insists. He wants you to have everything you want and everything you could possibly need. Pays attention to everything you say and follows every gaze of yours, keeping mental notes of what gift to give you next. At times, he makes gifts by himself. For example, writing 100 reasons why he loves you on pieces of paper that are in your favorite color(s) and putting them in a cute little box that he painted with his own hand. It may not be the best work, but you can truly see the effort <3 + he gets you flowers all the time !!!!!!!

kisseskisseskisses. As soon as he sees you - your face is plastered in countless kisses. He doesn't care if you are in public or not, he will always show you how much he loves you and give you affection. He loves kissing your hands, knuckles, your wrists. He has a habit of kissing the fingertip of your index finger and gently lifting it to your lips, pressing it softly. He also does it to his own fingertip at the times and pressing it on your lips. It's usually when the two of you are alone, simple way of sharing intimacy :3

touchy, feely, touchy, feely. His hands always find a way to be on your body. Either by holding your hand all the time, simply placing it on your lower back or resting it on your thigh when both of you are seated somewhere. If he can, he loves playing with your hair. In any case, he loves just softly running his fingertips on the back of your head.

loves to dance with you as well :3 it doesn't matter if you can't dance, he just loves to sway round and round with you, keeping your body close to his <3

gets you a matching earring <3 (with a clip, in case your ears aren't pierced) + matching rings <3

sometimes, he lets you pick his outfit. But, most of the time, he likes sending you photos and requesting your opinion about his outfit. As soon as you praise him or compliment him you will receive a message that contains 🥰 x 100

sometimes, he wonders are you ashamed of him. He is aware of the opinions of other people as well as the tattoo on his neck. He never hides it, but as soon as the two of you begin to date, he begins to wonder should he cover it up or keep this relationship a secret in case you wish to not "humiliate" yourself. As soon as you reassure him, telling him that you want this relationship to be public and that he could never bring you shame - he lights up. He was looking for the sun for so long and he finally found it in you. He will make sure to always remind you of that and express endless gratitude for being the way you are :)

I mentioned this before, but he is the type to kneel in front of you, gently hugging your legs as he kisses your thighs. It's a form of stress relief for him. Enjoying your skin being so close to him and you being his safe space <3

always leaves notes. If he is going somewhere, you will know either by a text message or by a hand-written note. He always adds a sweet message too - how much he loves you and how he will be thinking of you the entire time <3

loves when you read to him. He didn't exactly learn to write and read for some time (no jokes pls), nor had someone treat him as a child when he was one, therefore he finds you reading to him to be the epitome of safety and warmth as it gives his inner child great comfort :)

loves kids and is great with them! Anytime you go somewhere and for some reason or the other, a child approaches - he will make sure to make it an enjoyable time for them. Either by playing with them, treating them an ice cream or any other snacks or simply listening to their little rambles. He firmly believes that children deserve respect and a good treatment therefore he will always provide his best efforts to keep them happy even if it's for only 5 minutes :)

constantly praises you <3 He compliments everything about you and has genuine interest in anything that may be interesting to you. "If you like it - I love it!" is his main mantra. You will always be heard, always be taken seriously and always complimented and encouraged to be who you are and do what you love to do :)

he is an excellent listener. He may not always have the advice or the solution, but he will always listen to you and comfort you in his own ways. As I mentioned above - you will always be heard by him, no matter the topic at hand :)

he loves to sleep on your lap. It truly gives him so much comfort and warmth <3

he is always proud of you and very open about it. He proudly introduces you as his partner, he loves to switch topics that you enjoy so you can speak more if you'd so like. If you are more introverted, don't fret - he will do all the talk and manage all the conversations. He will also try to get yall home early, so you can recharge and rest <3

on that note, keeps your photos as his phone background. Even shows it to everyone, praises you to them and says that even when he is losing, he is actually the winner because he always goes home to you, his biggest supporter and his own sunshine which makes him the happiest and the luckiest man to ever be alive <3

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader fluff #aventurine fluff #aventurine x yn #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #muse's writings #gender neutral reader

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

had to see you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

summary: And then, he says, “It’s nice.” “You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.” “It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

an: eventual smut. angst with happy ending. will-they-won't-they, but they do. smut. he loves you 100%. word count: 5.7k || there’s a part two to this here

simon ghost riley masterlist

You love the rain.

Not so much when you’re away. When you’re strapped up, weighed down by all your gear. The additional weight of being wet makes for an uncomfortable experience, with hair clinging to foreheads and mud sticking to your skin. It also forces things to rub more, chaff. Your skin is often raw from where the buckles and belts sit.

But, at home, it’s refreshing.

It’s why you never hated your nickname, the one given to you in jest—to remind you that you are a female, soft, emotional. Only for it to grow more fitting. Because Rain comes from above, sharp, falling where needed—catching people by surprise, and leaving traces behind, but never enough to know where you’ll land next.

Rain is also one word. One syllable. Short, sharp and easy.

It can be spat, it can be sweetly said and affectionately called.

On good days, it reminds you of long car rides, staring out of windows at passing traffic as you watch beads of its travel down—racing. On bad days, it reminds you of more unpleasant memories, ones born in moments you’d sooner forget, an emptiness in your chest from betrayal, loss and bad choices.

At home, rain itself keeps you rooted. The scent, for one, not allowing your mind to whisk you off too old memories of war and enemy territories. The sound, for another, hits your windows and dulls the silence. All three senses are busied by it. It all blends perfectly together with the crackling of your candles and the low-light vibe you have going off in your flat.

Plus, there’s nothing more British than bad weather.

Each time you’re able to come home, you hope it’s raining. Landing back, greeted with cold and horrid rain. Preferably the kind which looks misty through windows and soaks you in seconds when you step into it. The kind which makes it hard to know which speed to put your car wipers on, and socks get drenched as puddles form quicker than people can account for.

You didn’t care that you looked like a drowned rat when you unlocked your flat door. Or that your wet clothes were difficult to remove as steam filled your bathroom because you were always going to have a shower. A routine—a tradition of sorts.

Hands desperate to wash the months away, let your expensive soaps and scents soak into neglected skin and smother old scars and newly gained ones. Plus, the water was hotter at home, almost scolding your skin as you stood under it, letting each droplet massage a part of your neck and upper back as your living room music drifted through the cracked door.

You dress before you really prune, sliding on silk PJs—the ones which you buy as a treat and wear once, maybe twice a year. Your skin sighs in relief, thankful to forget sand, bullets and bruises, the same as your mind. Busying your hands with preparing a lavish dinner, a large dish too ridiculous for one person—but again, you’d missed it. Home.

The scent of gravy, potatoes and meat.

When asked, you’d been quiet about your plans with the others. Them only having a slight idea of which city you call home. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them—not even sure you’d be able to fall asleep without Soap’s snores, Ghost’s huffs and Gaz’s odd bedtime stories. But, you’d gained new nightmares on the last job—ones which you needed to make peace with before they stole another fraction of your soul.

That’s what it did, eventually. Even to the best of them.

Bad choices, untested intel and wrong moves left little marks before they claimed a piece of innocence, kindness and happiness.

It’s a little different with the 141. Without realising it, you’re sure you all help smother each other's struggles away. But it’s only temporary. You know it, you can feel it in the muscles in your back and in the knots in your stomach. So, if you saw them now when you needed to heal—if you relied on them—you’d go back weaker than when you left. And they needed you; you needed them. A team where you could only trust one another—having been betrayed so often, you were all each other had.

It’s why you were taken back by a firm knock.

Short. Deliberate.

Pausing, allowing whoever they were to realise their mistake. Even if the sound didn’t appear as though they’d chosen the wrong flat or someone who was cherry-knocking. It was purposeful, direct, and your hands quickly dried on the kitchen towel as your feet crossed the tiles and laminate to your front door.

When you’d left, you’d asked a friend to check in on the flat—fix the peephole. Something having forced it to get stuck, leaving you blind to whoever was on the other side. Your friend is good, kind, and sweet but forgetful. Something which also reminds you of home as you snort, undoing the chain, and unlocking the door, half expecting them.

Only to see him.

“Ghost?”

He has a hood up, and a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face.

His eyes fall over you, taking you in centimetre by centimetre, digging into you as if he’d not expected to see you.

You find it just as odd to see the skin around his eyes not tainted in grey or black and that his frame is still as ridiculously large, even in plain clothes, as he holds a duffel bag in his hand.

Suddenly aware of the thin layer covering your body from him. Especially as his eyes drop from your face to the silk shirt with its three buttons undone and then to your legs, where silk shorts did their best but were futile in hiding thighs, knees or legs from him.

“You lettin’ me in?”

Instinctively, you move, not even questioning it.

Even if he didn’t say it like an order, he was still your lieutenant. Even on home ground, you slipped into your sergeant role too quickly. Watching him pass you, turning to face the direction he moves in before pressing your back against the inside of your door. Fingers sliding to the side of you, turning the lock, the sound filling the small space as you watch him stop at your key hook, slowly sliding his feet from his boots—finding him wearing thick, bobbly socks.

He turns to face you, eyes washing over you again as his hood remains up as he undoes the scarf. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen his face a handful of times, each time, it still renders you silent, if only for a second.

Clearing your throat, you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t mean this to come out as rude, but why are you—“

“Someone broke into my place.”

You move, almost too quickly, from the door. Your hand brushing his shoulder, wanting—needing—to comfort him, soothe him like you would a friend. Before you remembered who this was.

Almost surprised he doesn’t flinch. Even if he does shoot you a surprised look before you wrench your hand back.

“S-sorry. Habit.” He frowns, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole. “Not with y—when I’m home, I’m… well, I—did they take anything?”

“Not sure.”

Right. “Do you need somewhere to stay?”

He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick away, the tell-tale signs of him processing and thinking. You’ve seen him do it often, especially when Price is talking and when he reads files. As if he’s choosing where to store it in the filing cabinet, he calls his brain.

“Please,” he says, the word almost coming out as a whisper.

As if it’s so rarely ever said.

You’re unsure what to say, even if there’s so much swirling around your brain. So many questions you want to pepper him with, but he’s not Soap, who’ll answer them all or Gaz, who’ll have already told you everything.

He’s Ghost.

Silent. Quiet, Ghost.

Your oven beeps, his head turning to the sound.

Sighing, you rub your arms, suddenly aware of how cold your hallway feels, as you cover your chest with your elbows. “You hungry?”

Silence.

A beat or two blossoming, your eyes unable to move from his face, even if you know you should, before he licks his lips, saying, “Starving.”

You smile, “Good. It's not a lot, just some chicken, potatoes… a bit of veg. Nothing huge. And, not quite a typical Sunday roast, but enough to ease me back in.”

He doesn’t laugh, not that you expect him to.

“Bathroom is there, to your right. If you need it,” you say quickly, almost stepping past him to answer your beeping oven. “I just need to dish up, and… yeah.”

You expect to feel calmer by the time he’s back. Especially with your dressing gown on, loosely knotted at your waist, covering more of you from him.

But you’re more nervous.

Doubting the food you’ve plated, the scent of the candles, whether the low lights make it romantic and whether you should turn up the acoustic songs playing or let the rain be the soundtrack of the evening. Suddenly aware of how fucking odd this is.

Him being here.

And yet, not that odd at all.

“Hope it’s okay…” you mumble nervously as you place the plate down.

He looks like he belongs at your table, even if your table is small and usually for one-person. He’d helped, in as much of a way as a stranger can in someone’s home, grabbing glasses from cupboards you direct him to, making squash for you and water for him.

His hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he waited for further instruction, catching sight of the hood still being up, having noticed he’d swapped jeans for dark joggers before you told him to sit.

“There’s more gravy… just wasn’t sure how you liked it,” you add.

Ghost doesn’t answer, not even as you slide into the chair opposite. Your hands have a slight tremble to them as you pick up your cutlery, trying not to watch him take a bite—suddenly feeling like a contestant on a judging show.

And then, he says, “It’s nice.”

“You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.”

“It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a fork grazing the plate and the knife slicing through food. It’s almost normal—as though this happens regularly.

“Your place is nice, too,” he mumbles.

Lifting your head, you find he’s looking at you already. “You don’t have to lie, Simon. You can still stay even if you think my decor is odd.”

His eyes widen a fraction before it vanishes like it never existed. A brief moment of you wondering why, until you realise the slip—the way you used his name and not his alias. Making it feel personal. More so than the two of your knees occasionally butting under the table.

“It’s not what I expected.”

“You’ve thought about my place?”

Ghost says nothing, hovering his fork over his dinner as he keeps his eyes down.

You smile if only to yourself, pushing some meat and vegetables onto your fork, continuing—wondering if he’s hoping you would. That silence would settle over the two of you, the storm outside being enough background noise to keep it from being awkward.

“I have to ask,” you say suddenly, keeping your gaze down, trying to still your pulse as you manoeuvre food around the sauce. “Why me? I mean… I don’t mind you being here, but I thought, well, I assumed you’d pick Soap—if you needed a place to stay.”

You try not to look, even when you hear a faint snort, seeing his plate—empty, only traces of broccoli stalks remaining—slide closer as the chair creaks in his movement.

“You were closer.”

Oh.

Your stomach drops, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking there could be any other reason.

Almost wanting to kick yourself for allowing yourself to consider another option, one which you’ve been stuffing down for weeks, months…

It isn’t as though you were meant to fall for him. The man who originally kept his face a higher guarded secret than his own name. But, it stemmed naturally and out of nowhere. He made you laugh as you moved into an enemy building—nerves humming in your bones. He made it worse when he flung himself in front of you before a car exploded, gripping you tightly against him, not letting go for minutes later before his hand cupped your cheek, mouthing words you couldn’t hear as ears rang and rang.

Smiling, you nod, not sure what else to say as you take his plate and yours, turning your back to him as you hear him clear his throat.

“I had to see if you were okay.”

You don’t place the plates down, not immediately.

Eyes trying to peer at him through the corner of your vision, slowly lowering the porcelain to the counter—too afraid to break the moment with a single sound, even as your heart hammered in your ears, in your chest, and throat.

He had said it so softly, you have to wonder how long it’s been churning on his tongue.

Slowly turning, you face him, finding his eyes already on you with an awkwardness in his shoulders as he looks up at you.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Had to be sure.”

You smile, pulling your dressing gown around you tighter. “Well, that’s because you’re a good lieutenant.”

His brows knit, lips spreading into a thin light before you notice the subtle shift in his nostrils as though he’s sighed before Ghost nods with his usual professionalism. That’s when your stomach drops, fluttering ridiculously near your feet as you feel you’ve made a mistake.

“Tea?” you ask.

Ghost’s face shifts and you’re almost sure there’s a faint smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry, I know how you like it,” you add, pulling open a cupboard as you retrieve two mugs and flick the kettle on. “I’ve heard you berate Soap for his piss-poor tea skills.”

You make him snort.

And it does nothing to stifle the fluttering.

If anything, it adds to it.

Shit.

Even though it’ll be his bed for the night, Ghost refuses to sit on the sofa and doesn’t allow you to sit in the armchair. Practically insisting you sit how you would if he wasn’t here. Even if you’re worried he won’t be comfortable, the ridiculous chair was bought as a filler—an accessory, rather than something people actually used.

“Fine,” you mumbled, grabbing your blanket and curling up across both seats as he clutched the mug in his hand.

You put something crap on the TV, the volume low—just in case he doesn’t feel like talking. Your eyes flick to it occasionally, half-listening as you softly wiggle your toes under the blanket—needing something to focus on. Because you couldn’t keep looking at him.

Not with how your mind was running away from you, imagining ifs and buts and everything else in between.

He fits here. Your home rarely feels warm and comforting, but with his presence, it does. As though your place has always wanted to be enjoyed by two people, not one person who rarely ever visited it.

It doesn’t feel weird, even if it should. It makes you feel unsteady, and dizzy. Suddenly unable to stop focusing on the fact there’s a six-foot-something amount of feelings in your chest, twisting and tightening, trying to unlock everything you stuffed down.

That same instinct and set of emotions which made you try to rip yourself from Soap’s grip when Ghost had entered a blazing building just for a stupid USB; how you’d been so angry, feral—as Soap called it—not able to think, how it had filled you, consuming you. How you’d even told Price you needed benching, unable to even look at your lieutenant, never mind be in the same room.

He eventually cornered you on the base, pushing you, mixing between berating and taunting you until you slammed your small fist into his shoulder as you called him an idiot, a fucking cunt, a liability, a heartless cunt. How your tiny fist hammered into him with each array of insults until he grasped it tenderly, staring at you until tears bubbled in your eyes.

You cannot die.

Why?

But, he had to know. His eyes followed a single tear down your cheek as he released your wrist, allowing you to walk away from him and begin the process of stuffing everything down again.

Then you’d been shot. Through and through. Fire, gasp and fucking pain, your mind rendered uselessly, but he was still the person you called for. Not Soap, who was closer, not Gaz, who could actually stitch you. But Ghost.

Ghost who came in a flash, telling you what you needed to hear—ordering you to do things like look at him, gripping his arm.

“What?”

Blinking, you didn’t even realise you’d been looking at him. Your mind blanking excuses tumbling from your grasp as you offer the quickest smile and a ‘nothing’.

You forget how good he is at reading people.

Especially you. Almost sure you make it easy for him, even if everyone else says they struggle.

Ghost always knows, as though he’s in your head, digging his way through each time he stares at you. You wonder how much you let him in, whether he finds it easy before you want him in there—in your mind, in your heart.

Now, he’s giving you a stern look, one which makes the truth rattle in your chest and snakes up your throat.

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine, I was thinking about how weirdly normal it is that you’re here. That it doesn’t feel weird, alright? That was it.”

Anyone else, you’d think they’d smirk.

But with him, it’s the slightest movement of his lip which tells you he has heard you.

Ghost takes a sip, purposefully holding your gaze as he does so before filling the silence with, “You thought about it, then? Me being here.”

“Of course I have,” you answer too quickly, wanting to kick yourself as the words hit the air, his brows raising as he sips his tea. “Not… Not like that.”

“How then?”

Shit. Swallowing, you sigh, trying to buy yourself time. Shit, bollocks, shit.

“Should tell you, lying to your lieutenant isn’t smart.”

You give him a sharp look of your own, and he snorts—actually snorts. Your eyes are all set to roll until he says your name.

Your real name.

Not your nickname. Not sergeant or soldier.

“Fine. I’ve thought about it.”

“It?”

You groan, pulling the blanket up further—not that it’ll hide the obvious warming of your cheeks or embarrassment. You’re sure that’s painted across the room, likely even doing a jig at your expense.

“Us. You, me. In a bed,” you mumble. “Happy?”

Wanting to hide your face, almost about to when the sound of his mug meeting your coaster makes you freeze. Your armchair—the one his frame has somehow fit into comfortably—groans as he moves, and you let yourself see him from the corner of your eye. His forearms leaning on his knees, his hand sliding his hood down as he watches you.

He’s silent.

So silent it almost kills you. The adverts in the background do nothing to stop it; the rain, now hammering against the windows, was not stifling it.

Slowly breathing as you place your mug down, standing before you can even consider the options. “I didn’t realise how late it is,” you say, forcing a yawn. “I should… go to bed. Let you make your bed.”

You fold the blanket, throwing it over the arm as you try to shrug, and play it off, but he’s quicker at recognising you—he knows you better than that. His hand comes to touch your wrist, like he did months ago, eyes scanning yours.

For what you’re not sure.

Not wanting to get your hopes up. Not wanting to lose yourself in dreams and imagination.

So, you smile. As sweetly and as believable as you can as you point to the coffee table chest. “Blankets, pillows, the lot are in there,” you say, almost breathlessly, as he releases you. “Have a nice sleep, Gh—Simon.”

He swallows, his face remains unreadable as he chokes out, “You too.”

But you’re already moving, desperately seeking your room—throwing the door open and shutting it as you place your back against it. She’s closing, chest hammering so hard you’re sure it’s trying to escape.

Go back.

Go back to him.

Your eyes slowly open, catching sight of yourself in the mirror as the street lamps partially light your room.

He came to check on you. You.

Rolling your neck, your fingers flex at your side, twisting your wrists, wanting to shake it all from you. Trying, desperately to rid yourself of the tension and adrenaline. Almost doing so until you hear the floorboards outside your door creak.

It doubles your heart rate as a lump forms in your throat, suffocating you. You don’t want to give in, but wish to all at once. Your hand cupping your mouth, trying to hide the extra breaths the sound has forced you to make. Needing him. Wanting his calloused fingers to leave marks over your skin, his stubble to slice against your cheeks as his lips capture your breath, words and soul.

It’s that which makes you shift from the door. Not sure what you’re expecting, what you’re going to see, as your hand twists the doorknob, coming face to face with him all over again.

His hoodie is gone.

Expression torn—that same awkwardness in his shoulders.

Your hallway light touches his unreadable expression, highlighting all the lines and shading of his tattoo that stand out against his skin.

“Tell me to go back to your living room.”

Inhaling sharply, your hand drops from your mouth and falls limply to your side.

You are not thinking, thoughts all scattered, scrambled. Not even sure you can find words to tell him you want anything but. That you want him here, right in front of you; you want him to be rough and also kind, you want him to kiss you like he’ll never have the chance to again.

As though reading you, he moves closer, not even touching you, but your body yearns for him, muscles tensing and spasming at the endless thoughts of what could be—what he could do, what you already know he’d be good at. Suddenly wanting to rid yourself of your dressing gown, of your PJs, of the thin lace between your thighs you’ve already ruined.

“Words, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your legs almost give way, a smile wanting to bloom and spread across your lips, up your cheeks until it's radiating from you.

“Tell me. Or I’ll kiss you.”

Speechless, your lips part.

Yes. Please, yes.

Not even sure you are even breathing as you imagine his hands on you, his mouth against yours, against your neck, descending down and down—

His hand cups your cheek, pulling your eyes to his as he examines you. He studies you like he’s capturing every fucking inch of you: the curve of your cheeks, the position of your brows, the way your lips are waiting for him. The clear crisis you’re going through is rendered and broken at the mere thought of this becoming a reality.

“Simon…” you manage to whisper.

Hoping it's enough. Needing it to be enough.

He blinks once more before he lowers his head, his lips planting against yours and you’re sure you explode. Your heart furiously beating, ears buzzing and burning all at once.

Barely focusing on the way his arm snakes around you as your mouth moves to meet each one of his movements. His lips are soft, even if his tongue is rough; his grip tight, purposeful—desperate, even if yours are gentle, nervous. The pads of your fingers slide past the healed scar on his cheek, moving into his hair, his groan vibrating against your lips.

Gh—Simon is almost lifting you, moving you back as his foot kicks your bedroom door shut behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway. Only the streetlights dance shadows across your room as kisses grow messier, fingers brushing over skin as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your shorts, then sliding, freeing you, until you’re stepping out of them. Your robe next, falling with a thud as your hands slide under his t-shirt, feeling taut, hard muscle and silver scars which paint stories as your legs find your bed.

He smells different than usual.

Less sweat and fireworks, and more some combination of Ghost meeting sandalwood and amber as the two of you bend down onto your bed, the frame hissing at the weight and movement—not even aware of what’ll be expected to support soon enough.

“Shit, woman. Y’know how beautiful you are?”

His teeth nipping, sucking, leaving an answer to your prayer before you feel him unbuttoning your top, all slow and gentle, as if undoing a present he’s waited desperately for.

“Rip it,” you moan, his teeth grazing over the space between your breasts before he lifts up.

His eyes burn into yours, the smallest evidence of a smirk on his mouth as he slowly shakes his head. “I’ve waited too fuckin’ long to get here, I’m takin’ my damn time.”

If you weren’t already soaked for him, that did it.

All slick, swollen and hungry for him. Not sure if it’ll even take much, not with how precise you can imagine him being—how fucking thick his fingers are, how he’s staring at you like he wants to break you in all the ways he can before sunrise.

And you want it. Desperate for it. So much so that just the fan of his warm breath against your exposed nipples makes you rub your thighs together, needing friction—something he can tell, he must do.

“Wait.”

It’s sharp, authoritative, and he’s going to be the death of you.

Your body is so tense, you’re sure it’ll snap if you keep any more still as he undoes the last button and exposes your skin to the cool air and his breath. So focused on his eyes, you’ve forgotten all about his hand until you feel lace dig into your waist, tightening and tightening—snap.

And he smirks.

The devious bastard smirks.

Your lips part to make a remark—one you’re not even wholeheartedly sure will come out right—but it dies when he touches you, one finger, one thick calloused finger sliding between your thighs, brushing where you need him.

“Fuck…”

“Part them, sweetheart.”

And you do.

You do it like he’s said open-fucking-sésame. Two fingers sliding against you, diving between your folds. It’s intense, teasing and everything all at once. It’s making you burn and shiver, sweat building on your brow as you pant and whimper. His name falls freely, almost chanting it, like a song you’re the only one who can sing it. He captures what he can, tasting each syllable you say of his name until you’re tightening and clenching, and he whispers in your ear how good you are, how perfect you are, and you meet your orgasm with blinding lights and arched back.

The sight of him licking your want from his fingers brings you back, his mouth crashing against yours as you pull him down, knee bent against his hip as his hand comes to rest on your hip—the one you hope he’s bruising. Wanting, wishing for him to leave literal fingerprints as your hand slides between the two of you.

You knew before tonight Simon Riley would be big.

Almost too big.

The weight of him against your palm is something else, the thickness of his cock in between your fingers as you make him hiss, thumb swiping over the head as he groans.

He mixes kissing and nipping at your neck depending on what your hand does, the groans of your name making you desperate—needing him inside you, suddenly empty and desperate all over again, but not for his fingers.

You want him so deep in you you’ll forever feel empty without him. You want to feel every inch of him, want to rock against his hips as you press half-moons into his skin as nails dig into him.

The ache growing, worsening as his tongue draws a line from your neck to your earlobe, his fist clenching around your bed sheets at your side.

“Fuck… stop. Stop,” he groans, a hand smothering yours, halting you as he stares at you before pressing his forehead against yours.

Letting him go, touching his cheek—his eyes full of lust, searing into you.

“I want you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, his lips sliding up into a half-smirk—a Simon special. “I’ll go slow.”

“I hope you fucking don’t.”

His eyes harden. “I’m going slow. I’ll ruin you later,” he whispers darkly, before capturing your lips, a hand gripping the back of your thigh—shifting it just over his hip.

You're set to argue, and comment you can handle it until you feel him lineup, the head of his cock pushing against your folds.

You gasp as his hips move forward, slowly pushing himself in, your nails digging into his shoulder, into his waist as shivers run down your spine. The stretch being both too much and everything all at once, your toes curling, him slowly burying his cock all the way in as his fingers stroke your jaw.

“So fu—tight. Fuckin'-shit, sweetheart.”

“Simon…”

Your hips roll, moaning at the way it feels, having never felt so full. Never felt so stretched.

He’s slow, as he has been since he stepped over the threshold. His determination to take things slow, to take his time, not lessening now that he’s deep inside of you.

You’re sure you’ve left an array of welts and half-moon marks into his shoulders as he begins to roll his hips, his thrusts purposeful, desperately seeking that spot he already knows.

“Eyes on me,” he says, thumb against your jaw as your eyes lashes beg to flutter, but land on him all the same. “There’s my girl.”

It’s sinful the moan you let escape at his praise, your legs almost jelly as he steals it with a kiss—as though to taste it. Your mouth grasping for him when he pulls his head back, gripping your hip, helping you both to find a steady pace.

He does ruin you.

Not the first time, the second, but on the third.

Legs so sore, boneless and aching you can barely walk without his aid to the bathroom.

You’re not surprised he places you down on the side of the bath, taking a cloth you point him to as he cleans between your thighs as your hisses feel the space. You catch sight of yourself, an array of colours developing across your neck, collarbone and waist—just like you wanted.

A painting in colours of his own design.

You expect awkwardness once you shuffle back, giving him a moment. Finding underwear, sliding it over shaky legs before surrendering the idea of PJs as you slid between your duvet and sheets. When he returns, you brace for regret—for words you wish he’d swallow, face hidden in the scarf or behind a mask, but he’s in boxers and shuts your door with care.

Simon crosses the room, lifting the duvet as he slides in next to you, reaching out, tugging your back to his chest as he places a single kiss on the space below your earlobe.

You want to tell him everything. That you like him, could even love him by now. That you look for him too, that you worry, that you care. You'd tell him that he has pierced your heart, and you welcome the sting, that you'd be there, whenever he needed it. Even with knowing he likes space and distance and everything else in between.

"Stop thinkin' so loud," he grumbles against your skin.

Smiling, you fix your eyes across the darkness, finding the outline of your dresser as his hand finds your hip. Whether to soothe you or silence you, it makes your hands clammy.

Unsure if he knows that someone loves him. Someone wants him alive, wants him uninjured.

“I have feelings for you…” you whisper, fixing your eyes on your dresser as you swallow. “In case it wasn’t obvious.”

He doesn’t tense, doesn’t move.

Blinking, you try to trace the shapes of your handles, keeping your mind busy, the silence building and building.

"Say that again." You turn your head, meeting his stare, watching as he raises his knuckles before he traces your cheekbone. "Please."

His touch is so gentle, so soft that it makes your heart swell—your face relaxing as you repeat it again. "I have feelings for you.

"I care about you and...I like you alive, Simon."

You don't expect a reply, a declaration of his own. The fact he hasn't moved and hasn't pulled his knuckles from stroking your cheek, is enough of a declaration. Your lips turn, meeting them, pressing the softest kiss to them as if saying I know, I don't need to hear it. I know.

Letting your eyes ensure the message lands as you hold his gaze, ever-so-slightly nodding.

“I texted him. Johnny," he says. His fingers spread, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek. “But, I had to see you. Had to be sure.”

Your eyes lower briefly, feeling your heart almost stammer at his words. “Because I’m your sergeant or because I’m your girl.”

You’re my girl. Mine. Fuck, you’re mine. Mine. All mine. You hear me, sweetheart?

His thumb pauses against your cheek, likely remembering the same words he chanted over and over as he fucked you senseless. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as his lips twitch, and yours try not to smile.

“The latter.”

You nod. Feeling your body flush with warmth, turning your head back away from him, grinning as he pulls you flush against him.

Your heart thumping mine, mine, mine. Hearing him get comfortable against the pillow, a soft sigh blowing past his lips and kissing your skin.

“You make shit tea, though.”

read part two

a huge thank you to @ghostaholics for this absolutely gorgeous graphic. I can’t believe how much it encapsulates the entire piece and is just so me, and so pretty. thank you so much, I appreciate it so much 💕!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost riley #cod ghost x reader smut #simon ghost riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost angst #cod ghost smut #ghost smut

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remuslupinslittleslut · 27 days

Note

Okay hear me out teach me dynamic with a reward. James and Sirius have been so good so reader convincing Remus to let them spit roast her or one in the ass one in the pussy yknow while he watches, making sure they fuck her just right and eventually ends up joining somehow.

Idk just an idea

love your work xoxo

I got a bit excited and now this ended up being almost 2k. LOVED this request though, I'm thinking I might have to make a new list just for the teach me stuff, like it's another kind of poly marauders. If I had the energy to post content warning I probably would on this one it is quite filthy from time to time, but it thought it was v fun :)

Masterlist.

You had made a deal; if your boyfriends played well out on the pitch today, you’d give them a reward. It was a bit of an excuse, really, because they always played well.

Holding the hand of Remus, you sat on the edge of your seat, cheering as James made another goal. As he did a victory lap on his broom, your cheeks heated up – he always made sure to send you a wink and a wide grin. The cocky bastard knew what was coming. Squeezing Remus’ hand, you leaned in to whisper in his ear; “They’re good, really good.”

Remus chuckled, squeezing your hand in return. “Yeah,” he murmured, against your ear, eyes never leaving his two other partners. “We’re gonna have to give them a treat.”

To no one’s surprise, Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw with over 100 points, leading to a roaring party up in Gryffindor tower. The party, however, was just background noise as you waited on Sirius’ bed.

You and Remus had agreed, he’d tie you up in gold and red ribbons, leave you in their dorm and go get the others, who would be gifted your body for them to unwrap.

The cold air made your nipples perk as you lay on the bed. It was a dangerous game, you knew, letting your two subs take control over your body, allowing them to play the role of the dominant person, if only for a night. Remus had cautioned you, but after becoming submissive with Remus alone, you thought it might be fun to let them as well – besides, Remus would be there the entire time, watching, making sure everything went as it should.

“Are we getting our gift?” You heard Sirius’ voice as they walked up the stairs, excitement evident.

“Is Y/N in here?” James followed, just as excited.

Stopping just outside the door, you heard Remus speak, his voice determined and rough. “You’re about to be rewarded, not just for your performance today, but also for your good behavior these past few days,” he said, and you knew the look on his face without having to see him. “You’re going to be allowed one evening of full control – but remember, if you disobey any of our underlying rules, you will still get punished. Can you tell me what they are?”

“Don’t hurt ourselves or anyone else, always listen to safewords, always check for consent, don’t be rude to daddy and no lasting injuries,” James listed, as the good boy he always was.

“Good Jamie,” Remus’ voice was softer now. “Go ahead then.”

As the door opened, you felt your heartbeat quicken.

“Wow,” Sirius gasped, the first person in through the door. “Pretty girl, all wrapped up for us?”

You turned your head to face him from where you lay on his bed, ribbons cutting into your skin, making sure you stayed in place. You nodded as your cheeks heated once more.

“Prongs, you’ve gotta see this,” Sirius cooed, dragging James along.

James’ eyes were wide and glossy from behind round glasses, his brown cheeks tinted pink as well.

“Go ahead, boys,” Remus said, plopping down on his own bed. “Unwrap your gift.”

Their eyes moved between your body and Remus’, not sure if they were actually allowed. But when Remus chuckled and nodded once more, they pounced, hopping onto the bed and pulling at the strings around your body.

“Hi darling, you’re so pretty f’me,” Sirius said, leaning down to kiss you. His lips tasted like firewhiskey and his long hair tickled your face.

James was busy making sure all pieces of ribbon left your body, before he allowed his hands to grab at your tits.

“Go on then, boys,” Remus said from his own bed. “Get on with it.” Looking over to him, you saw his hand was wrapped around his semi-hard cock, slowly jerking up and down.

Arching your back, you tried to push James’ hands harder into your chest, as you moaned into Sirius’ mouth.

“Is that what you want, princess?” Asked Sirius, hand holding your chin as he pulled away slightly. “You want us to fuck you? Make you cum on our cocks while daddy watches?”

They knew you sometimes let Remus be your daddy, even as you were mommy to Sirius and James – but they’d never used it against you like that. It was hot, very hot, and you felt yourself slip further into your submissive persona even more as you desperately nodded up at Sirius. “Please.”

“Jamie, look at that, little slut wants us to fuck her,” Sirius taunted.

James still looked a little uneasy with the switched positions, but you reached out a hand to hold his. “Jamie, please, wanna taste you,” you whined, trying to ease him into it. “Please, Jamie, let me suck your cock.”

Your words made James’ eyes widen, before he looked to Remus, again. “Can I?” He asked.

“Yes, James, you can do whatever you want to her, for tonight,” Remus assured, cock growing harder.

Nodding, James got up and started undressing. Sirius did the same.

Having gotten consent, James wasted no time straddling your chest and leaning down to kiss you quickly before placing his hard cock right in front of your face. Doing a half crunch, you pushed your head up and opened your mouth, tongue falling out, eyes meeting James’. “Fuck,” he groaned, hips coming forward enough to push his cock into your open and waiting mouth. Using your tongue, you licked around the head, spreading precum around. He always tasted so good.

Between your legs, you felt Sirius’ fingers pushing against your swollen clit before diving deeper, slipping into your wet cunt. You were prepared, had let Remus finger you open before, making sure you were ready for your boys. Still, Sirius’ expert fingers plunging in and out of your pussy felt fuckin’ amazing.

“Such a good girl,” James murmured, having pulled out of your mouth temporarily, allowing you to breathe.

“The best,” Sirius agreed, tongue reaching out to lap at your sensitive nub. “So pretty, so tasty.”

You moaned, arching your back. It felt so nice, receiving all that attention and praise, and if you looked to the side, you saw Remus smiling softly, hand squeezing the root of his cock, trying to stop himself from cuming.

“Such a little cock-whore, though,” Sirius said, pushing the limits even further. “D’you want me to fill your little hole? D’you need cock on both ends to be happy?”

James groaned, Sirius’ words had made you moan around James’ cock, now back in your mouth, and the vibrations sent pleasure all through James’ body. “I think she does, pads,” James said, hand brushing hair out of your face.

Sirius’ fingers left you, making you feel empty and alone, but it wasn’t long until his cock replaced them, filling your dripping cunt, making you speared on cock from both ends. This was heaven. James’ hips moving slowly, pushing his cock down your throat, letting your nose get tickled by the hair and the beginning of his shaft on every thrust. Sirius snapping his hips, allowing your g-spot to be perfectly grazed by his head.

“Fuck,” Sirius groaned. “She’s taking us so well. D’you see this moons? Your cockslut is so good for us.” His head was thrown back, hands pressing into your legs as he thrust his hips, moving his cock in and out of you. “Fuck, James, flip her over.”

Both cocks pulled out of you, making you whine from the loss of contact. It didn’t last long though, soon you were flipped to lay on your stomach, head almost falling off the edge of the bed, but James’ hand in your hair kept you up as he pushed his cock into your mouth again. Behind you, Sirius straddled your thighs, pushing just your arse up as he, too, once again penetrated you – making you full of cock, and happy again.

Straining your eyes to look up at James, you used your tongue to give extra attention to his head, while your hips started moving in little circles, walls clamping down harder on Sirius. As much as you enjoyed this, you wanted to be active in their orgasms.

James went first, hands pulling even harder at your hair as he threw his head back, hips stuttering as his cock shot white globs of cum down your throat. Moaning, you opened your mouth, playing with his cum using your tongue. Leaning down, James gave you an open mouthed kiss, allowing his own cum to be split between the two of you.

Sirius, who had witnessed James coming down your mouth was also getting close, hips pushing against yours, hard. When James had moved away from you, Sirius leaned down to pull your chest up, one hand in your hair, the other squeezing your tit.

“Such a good little cockslut, huh, took Jamie so well, gonna let me cum in you? Fill you up? Watch it run down your legs? Gonna let me do that, huh?”

Sirius’ filthy words only made you moan louder, walls squeezing him harder.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m–” His hips slowed as he gave his final few thrusts, pushing his cum even further into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he kissed the back of your neck before moving away.

Remus, who still hadn’t allowed himself to cum came over. “Everyone okay?” He asked, looking at all his littles. “You did so well,” he looked at you. “But you two,” he pointed to Sirius and James, “missed something. You didn’t make our girl cum.”

They both looked ashamed, and a little disappointed that they’d missed something during their night.

Remus leaned down and kissed your nose. “Can you ride my face, darling?”

That sounded amazing and you quickly got up and sat yourself down over his face. His tongue was good, he knew how to use it and when he had to add his fingers to make sure you felt as good as possible. Licking along your damp lips, Remus used two fingers to push into you, the pads of his fingers immediately pressing against your spongy walls.

Moving your hips, you dragged your cunt along Remus’ face. You wished you could’ve disappeared into a world of pleasure, but his leaking cock looked so lonely, you had to lean down and wrap your fingers around it. Remus pushed his hips, making his cock glide through your fingers as he moaned against your heat.

The other two men were sitting next to you, mouths agape and cocks growing hard again after their orgasms. Watching them as you took Remus into your mouth, you saw their members bob at the view.

Remus quickened his pace, tongue licking and lips sucking around your clit as his fingers moved faster in and out of you. He wanted to make sure you came before you did. Hips and head moving faster, you felt yourself get thrown over the edge, wetting Remus’ whole face as you squirted, causing a chain reaction of Remus coming into your mouth, where James had just done the same thing. “That’s how you treat a girl,” Remus said, wiping his face with his hands, sending his friends a wink.

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pettypiastri · 8 months

Text

gentle hands find tender hearts — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader summary - day 1 of testing leaves Lando sore and seeking comfort word count - 2.2k warnings - language, allusions to reader insecurity, otherwise none! note - first piece for f1, please be nice! basically just idiots in love but they're not in denial and are already dating. blame Lando's yt channel for the brainrot and info i've loosely based this on. drop by the inbox, would love to discuss all your thoughts about your fave vroom vroom boys (anons are on) 🤍 feedback always appreciated!

Seeing the green verification light flash on the hotel room card reader might be the best thing Lando’s seen all day. Decidedly the best thing he’s seen since leaving you, a vision in his shirt, behind in the crisply air conditioned room, a sleepy smile on your face after he pressed a final kiss to your forehead. Which, notably, he’d only managed to find after a two-handed effort to sort through your messy hair swathing your face and neck. He’d traded all that in for the Bahrain humidity that’s somehow made itself a home in the aching in his head and the weight he still feels bearing on his neck. Seeing you now, just as pretty as this morning, he’s certain a ‘meh’ day 1 of pre-season testing did not make up for what he’d left behind at 6:45. Not even close.

You’re perched on the king sized bed, white hotel bedding bleached beyond identity, with a book in your hand and Lando wants to cry. Or maybe huff frustratedly. At the very least kiss you immediately. The smile you give Lando upon seeing his head of deflated curls peek around the wall, the one you always give him that reaches your eyes and consumes his soul, has his shoulders sagging. More than 100 laps and hours of data threaten to finally crush him as he drags himself toward you, items falling from his hands in time with his steps. Bucket hat, wallet, key card until it's just him, drained and pouty, eager to demand your comfort. Blindly you dog ear your page, cataloging his schlumpy movements.

“What’s wrong gorgeous?”

A resounding ‘oomph’ leaves your chest as your boyfriend falls against your frame. Strong hands reach under your hoodie seeking soft skin. Even though Lando’s been in the heat all day, it’s nothing like the toe curling, soul unfurling warmth you can provide. These days, he always seems to feel a chill in his chest when you’re not around.

“Shit day,” he grumbles, fabric sticking to his parted lips as he snuggles against your chest. Overwhelming fondness makes your heart ache, a playful quip is briefly delayed. As a distraction, your hands gravitate to mirror his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and back. One comb of your fingers through his mangy curls has them frizzing up, tendrils reaching out to tickle your nose.

“Oh, s’that all?” A sharp pinch between your ribs in retaliation has you tightening your grip in Lando’s hair. Your free flowing giggle encourages Lando to elaborate, his traitorous smile hidden against fabric.

“ ‘M sore. Back, neck… pride.” On instinct, your hand in his hair dips to the natural resting place on the back of his neck. A pensive hum settles on his ears.

“Hmm… Well, suppose you’re lucky you’ve got a girlfriend then.”

A truly minimal effort grumble of confusion is all you get in response. Lando, tired and grumpy, never fails to make you smile. It’s why, with great effort, you wiggle down the bed with him still on top of you, crumpling pillows and pulling up the bottom sheet in your wake, so you can be nose to nose with him. His beautiful baby blues, with a streak of exhaustion, a fleck of frustration, and a halo of tenderness, crack open to regard you. Droopy lids are held open by a combative fondness that overpowers the weight of unmet expectations. You kiss him languidly, a need to rush nowhere to be found. Despite your initiation, you part your lips easily for him letting him control the moment how he wants. Lando always kisses you like it's his last chance, in a way that makes you feel it from your stomach down to your toes. Sometimes you find yourself crossing your fingers that you make him feel the same.

Upon breaking apart you coax him gently, “Lay on your stomach for me? Let me take care of you.”

And Lando resigns to let you. Happily. Defenselessly. Completely. Because you always take care of him. After Sochi, after Carlos left, whenever he loses sight of himself. Your unyielding arms are always ajar for him to crash into.

Lando proves to be absolutely no help as you try to shimmy his hoodie off him, his face pressed into one of four available pillows, arms curled above his head. Your level of struggle makes you giggle, then laugh from your chest, a whine of his name mixed in. Half a cheeky smile is visible from Lando as he peeks an eye open to regard you. He lifts one arm begrudgingly and then the other, allowing you to successfully free his torso.

Gently you lay the hoodie to your side and scan his lean back. You watch his shoulders flex as he shifts again to get fully comfortable, the dimples in his lower back popping in and out. His golden skin, a tan you watched bloom over a long offseason, calls for your careful touch.

One of your thighs raises to straddle the backs of his, finding a comfortable position atop his legs. As if in anticipation of your tenderness, an adorable sigh whistles out through Lando’s nose. Moving just by instinct, your careful hands start at the small of his back, digging in just enough with your thumbs to coax the tension out. Briefly you wonder if the tiny hiss Lando lets out is one of appreciation or if hours in the air conditioned hotel room have left your extremities just on the wrong side of chilly. You’re reassured when a more full chested sigh escapes your boyfriend upon your hands reaching the apex of his shoulders in one long motion of your hands. The look of contentment is already beginning to set in on Lando’s striking face as you continue carefully in fluid, albeit improvised, movements.

There is a stillness in the room that welcomes the almost inaudible efforts of your hands pushing into his muscles and grants permission for your mind to wander. A dull hum from the air conditioning unit aims to harmonize with Lando’s consistent sighs. On instinct you itch to trace a pattern between his birthmarks, taking a moment to appreciate even the smallest parts of him.

As now warmed fingers detour from their ritualistic path up his back, you stop at one mole, marveling that it looks the exact same shade of brown as the coffee was on your second date. A cup of which had steamed up between your eyes as you glanced sheepishly over the porcelain rim at him, hoping he couldn’t see you staring. The waitress had led with ‘how cute a couple the two of you make’ before informing you it was closing time. Lando had not corrected her. Instead he’d offered you his jacket before walking you home. You’d kissed him before you even made it to your street. The tableau, illuminated by a dusty streetlamp, saw you pushing him back with a hand on his chest when you realized you wouldn’t be able to stop if you carried on a second longer. Lando had found it sickeningly endearing.

Another birthmark on your course upwards is a bit lighter, more oval, something like the dirt track he had taken you to watch rallying at with his siblings last winter. You’d shared lip gloss with one of his sisters and been asked for advice on the boy problems of the other. Lando’s brother Oliver realized he didn't even have to ask how serious things were when he’d caught Lando staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Oliver had leant over to ask him a question, only to find Lando didn’t even know who the race leader was as he’d practically not taken his eyes off you. You, just existing. Eager eyes darting around attentively at the flurries of dirt before you, your hand on Lando’s wrist, spinning the bracelet his Nan gifted him with absentminded ease. Later he’d watched Lando take about 30 photos of you as you wandered the merch booths and food stands, all of which you were none the wiser to and Oliver knew you never would be.

The birthmark just at the base of his neck is the one you noticed peeking out from his t-shirt late one warm night in Monaco. When your eyes yearned to fix on something stable. Something safe. Lando’s hand had reached back for yours as he lead you through the Monaco streets. You’d linked your pinky with his, too shy to feel the warmth of his whole hand in yours. He’d driven the two of you around in his Jolly, for once abiding by the speed postings; he was in no rush with you. You recall being envious of the wind ruffling his hair, wishing it was you instead. The hand he placed on your exposed thigh had you looking the opposite direction to hide your glowing cheeks.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, you scooch to sit over the center of Lando’s back, bringing his strong neck into an accessible range. Your thumbs dig into the sides, freestyling a way to massage such a random part of the body in such desperate need of TLC. His curls that you’ve worshiped, pulled on, and braided for the past years are welcomed into the special treatment with your fingers sliding against his scalp before beginning at the base of his neck again.

Lando had looked at you sideways when you’d once commented on his strong neck being one of your favorite features of his. Refusal to elaborate was betrayed by your full body flush and flitting eyes as he leaned over you, hands settling on the arms of the chair you were sat in. That was just last month; he still makes you nervous.

Nervous in the way that makes your breath catch and your palms clam up. Nervousness akin more to anticipation than anything else; woven with glee and eagerness. Something like you feel right now, realizing you haven’t kissed him in 15 minutes and your hands are starting to cramp. Leaning down, you press a peck to his exposed cheek, Lando’s cologne filling your nose. For someone you thought was asleep, his eye cracks open the instant your lips part from his skin.

Lando regards you for just a moment before, with much difficulty given his current position and slight delirium, moving to wrangle you so you’re lying down chest to chest with him. One of his arms drapes over your neck, hand planted behind your head, creating a little bubble made just for your heads. Something unrupturable and uninterrupted where he can stare at you without needing a reason.

The eyes you’re met with are droopy, full of contentment, and overflowing with affection. It’s a look that you used to think you’d never receive from someone else. But Lando’s never been afraid to be loud with his love. It took some time, some proof of dedication from him that the beaming smile and honest eyes were not a fluke, for you to bloom. Now when you’re with him, you don’t care who’s looking. You love who you are in his company, how unafraid to occupy space you become. It draws you to place your hand on his stubbled cheek (that you will not stop teasing him about) and stroke your thumb slowly over his skin. On instinct Lando nuzzles closer, so eager to be doted on by you. His lips find yours in an intimate kiss.

“Thank you baby,” he murmurs, words meant just for you, so soft they would’ve been mistaken for a flicker of the moonlight had you not been paying attention.

You assume he means for the massage. He assumes you know it’s for everything else: all the support and love and devotion you show him. It’s bliss with you. Lando had gotten over trying to fight against the never-ending spiral of longing, lust, and love in every moment, word, and movement with you, a long time ago. Now he welcomes drowning in your smile and voice and touch. He yearns for the overwhelming clench in his chest and weightlessness of his body. He’s given himself over completely to you in hopes of his demise at the sight of your warm eyes and the way you say his name.

Lando finds his heart squeezing again just from looking at you, curled against him in a random Hilton somewhere in the Middle East. The only remedy, the only distraction is to kiss you again, gently but full of meaning. It makes you blush, afire under his adoring gaze, feeling so safe but exposed, heart bared fully to him.

In the sacred hush of your hotel room you scoot just a fraction until your nose skims his, eyes fluttering closed. Upturned lips brush against yours involuntarily.

A deep exhale leaves Lando’s nose, tickling the peach fuzz of your upper lip. It conveys total peace and comfort. It says somehow, this is all he needs. This is how life looks for him when his mind wanders to years his senior. Maybe there’s more noise around your little bubble, more feet, decidedly smaller than the both of yours, leaving prints on your hearts. But you and him together like this? It’s constant, transcendent of location or hardship or outside noise. You and him together like this, with 'I love you's' as the night's lullaby, is not just enough, it’s everything.

#my writing #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x yn #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1

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ghouljams · 3 months

Note

Hi! Shy anon sharing brain rot once again. As always is about The Ghost Distribution System™, because that’s 100% how he’d act and i can’t stop thinking about it.

Anyway, i’ve been specifically thinking about Ghost catching the flu. Gets all of the basic but annoying ass symptoms. Runny nose, sore throat, the not-too-high-but-definitely-debilitating fever, the shivers and body aches.

And despite feeling like death, he’s still coming over to fix that leaky sink you complained about. (Because he’s been through worst and it’s not like he really takes that much care of himself, your needs go first anyway.)

So, you let him in, thank him again for offering to do it himself and saving you a couple hundred in a handyman that would take way longer to do what he insists it’s a simple task. But when he keeps on coughing and needs to stop every few seconds to wipe his nose cause it’s stuffy you definitely notice something is wrong.

And as much as he refuses and insists that he is fine and doesn’t need you to fuss over him (you already do so much for him, show him so much kindness and care. How could he dare ask for more?) you end up feeling his skin and noticing he definitely has a fever.

So now he is laying on your couch, soft fluffy blanket around him (that absolutely smells like you and it’s making his mind even more fuzzy), cold compress on his forehead and a random movie quietly playing on the background as you make him a snack (to help him recover some strength and get some fluids you said).

And while he’s laying there all he’s thinking about though his foggy mind is how he’s going to repay you for this, all the things he can do for you so you keep letting him in every time he comes back.

You're such a saint, you don't want to put Ghost on your couch, not after everything he's done for you. He kicks up a silent fuss when you offer your bed for a nap, his fingers flexing and balling into tight fists. Again you offer a piece of your sanctuary, a place belonging only to you, as if it's nothing. He's sick in more ways than one. Filthy with his desire for you. He argues with you, with his god. Benevolent as you may be, every prophet has challenges placed in the path of his devotion. The devil tempted Jesus with all manners of the flesh, so why wouldn't he tempt Ghost?

Your concern makes you agree. Settling Ghost so gently on your couch that he wonders if even this is too good for him. You disappear long enough for him to wonder against his choice, long enough for him to close his eyes against the fever. You return with pillows and blankets, arranging them and coaxing him to lay down. Your fingers hover around his head, as if laying it on your pillows might be too much of a burden for him. As if he's liable to break if he settles it anywhere but your warm embrace.

You leave him again and Ghost pushes his face against he offered comfort, breathes in your scent greedily and imagines he's laid his head in your lap. You must have brought this comfort from your bed, determined to give him everything he doesn't deserve. It makes his head spin, sick, filthy, he could never repay the goodness you give him. You pull the gently weighted blankets over his shoulders, wipe the sweat from his forehead with a cool cloth, he can't look at you. He can't face the radiant warmth you bestow on him. He's done nothing to deserve it, nothing to warrant this care, nothing that should lead you to coo your gentle praise. It all sticks in his chest worse than any bullet could.

He doesn't deserve it, can't deserve it, you should give your kindness to someone better, to someone who doesn't hoard your care for themselves like he does. It hurts. It hurts and yet the ache is intoxicating. His teeth itch to sink into you, to inflict some of the same pleasure you bring to him. As if he could ever be worthy of such a thing.

"Simon," You hum, melodic, hymnal. He feels his eyes roll with the pleasure of hearing his name before he can open them. You say it so sweetly, like he's never heard it before. His vision swims with fever, but the light halos you and you smile at him. Divinity in your every breath, he could live a lifetime in the moment when your eyes meet his.

"Love," he feels it on his breath, inaudibly whispered, just a part of his lips, a fricative against his teeth. Like any other God receiving prayer you don't hear it. It's better that you don't hear it, the casual affection doesn't fit you right. If there was a bigger word for what he feels, for what you are, he won't find it in this condition.

"Just rest," You bid him, "You can stay here tonight, if you want."

If he wants. As if he could ever want anything else. As if he could turn down an invitation to rest his head in your temple. As if he could ever have the strength to tell you no.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #the ghost distribution system #ghost call of duty #Ghost feverish and staring at his darling: you could make a religion out of this

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lucvly · 3 months

Note

omg love ur stories can u make a fluff of chris just spoiling his gf all day and the whole time she’s like “chris that’s like $100” and he’s like “u wanted it right? i’m buying it”

MILLION DOLLAR MAN. ( chris sturniolo )

warnings › none i fear, just cursing, chris saying ma ( GUYS PLEASE ), reader can drive, short as hell.

author’s note › this is so poorly written i apologize anon 💔. i’m in LOVE with the concept of chris spoiling his girlfriend though i SWEAR. this does not do it justice.

› you had been out with your boyfriend almost all day you. you went out early, right after chris had surprised you with breakfast in bed. the kitchen was a mess afterwards of course, but the gesture was sweet enough you forgot about that in a heartbeat.

he was being overly sweet on this specific day, even making you wonder if you missed a special occasion– an anniversary, a birthday– but the root of the matter was, he just wanted to pamper you and show you how much he appreciated you, how patient you were with him and how you managed to put up with his nonsense daily.

right after breakfast, sitting down next to you on your bed in comfortable silence, he suggested a day out shopping with you, promising you anything you wanted. at first, you were a bit skeptical– of course, the thought of a much needed shopping spree was far too tempting, but your boyfriend being the one paying for it all made you a bit uneasy.

it didn’t take much convincing though to get you to cave– which is how you ended up in your current situation, a wide smile spreading on your face as you looked at yourself in the brightly lit up mirror, your boyfriend standing behind you as he clasped a shiny gold necklace around your neck, a shiny pendant hanging from it.

“it’s gorgeous, chris.” you complimented, the smile on your face only widening as your fingers traced the necklace slowly, mesmerized by the luster and glow that it emitted.

“if you want it, it’s yours, ma.” he still stood behind you as his hands lowered to your hips, tracing soft circles onto your skin. “looks gorgeous on you.”

“i mean, i want it, but this has to be over a hundred dollars.” you hesitated, a low sigh escaping your lips as your eyes scanned the necklace again.

you were completely caught off guard when he laughed, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your neck. “so?” he rolled his eyes playfully, as if he thought you bringing up the price was overly ridiculous, his hands once again trailing up to your neck, undoing the clasp as he turned to face the vendor who was helping you.

“we’re taking it.” he announced with a gentle smile on his face, handing the vendor the necklace that was hanging on your neck a quick second ago.

after the necklace was put inside the smallest and most elegant white box you’d ever seen and chris swiped his credit card as if he wasn’t almost spending a fair amount of money on this necklace, he held onto the bag for you, insisting on carrying it as if it wasn’t a small bag.

he always had these courtesies with you, carrying your bags, and small gestures which, every single time he did, made your cheeks turn the slightest shade of red, a soft smile appearing on your face.

both of you continued walking around until your eyes lit up at another piece of jewelry, a small pair of gold hoops which made you pause your window shopping. you glanced over them for a second before chris was softly intertwining your hand with his, stepping inside the store and almost forcing you to try the hoops on.

“you spoil me, i swear.” you jokingly complained as you stared at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head ever so slightly to get a better look at the earrings in all the angles, your fingers gently tracing over them.

chris only admired you, standing right behind you with the softest smile and a gleam in his eyes that suddenly managed to make you flustered.

“you deserve it.” he shrugged, his smile fading into a slight smirk, eyeing the earrings and your face in the mirror once again. “you’re so good to me.”

and once again, he was swiping his credit card. he was paying almost three hundred dollars and acting like he didn’t even spend a dime. he didn’t care– not when it came to you. you deserved everything he was buying you and so much more. he loved pampering you and treating you to anything you wanted.

the rest of the day was spent shopping, victoria’s secret, buying only the prettiest sets of lingerie (after an impromptu makeout session in the changing rooms, of course.) and some fragrances that made chris’ head spin with delight. tiffany & co, jewelry shopping as he helped you pick out only the most expensive and elegant pieces that suited your liking perfectly, and other shops like chanel which you’d been meaning to visit for a while.

this whole ordeal ended up with your boyfriend walking around the shopping center carrying all your bags, almost falling over in the process but truly he couldn’t be happier. he was in complete bliss seeing you happy with all your new acquisitions.

“how about a haul when we get home, pretty girl.” he spoke playfully as you headed out for he parking lot, your keys dangling in your hand as you spun them around your finger, giggling softly.

“of course.”

5:01 PM

after an exhausting day of shopping, you decided on spending the rest of the afternoon and evening at chris’ place, doing that unboxing you spoke of before even stepping in.

the backseat of your car was messily filled with bags of designer products and not so designer clothes which your boyfriend all helped you pick out (and paid for). the truth was, he couldn’t be happier. he loved making you happy, and he used occasions like these as a reminder of how much he appreciated and loved you. he would spend all the money he had on that card he’d been swiping all day and at the end of the day, he’d only be the happiest man on earth with you.

he started to carry your bags out of the car, filling up his arms with all the bags you’d collected throughout the day, barely managing to nudge the car door closed.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” you nervously laughed. it was just now settling in the amount of money you’d spent today, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt, even though you were incredibly grateful for everything your boyfriend had gotten you.

“stop apologizing. i told you, you deserve it, ma.” he inched closer to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away with a small smirk.

you finally got to the door, and thank god you had a spare key because with the amount of bags chris was holding, he wouldn’t have been able to find his key in his pocket even if he desperately wanted to.

you inserted the key into the knob, twisting it and walking inside, holding the door open for your boyfriend, shutting it closed as he stepped inside, quickly making his way to the kitchen counter, settling all your bags down with a soft chuckle.

hearing all the shuffling going on in the kitchen, matt and nick stepped out of nick’s room, where they were apparently watching a show, the noise from the tv could softly be heard in the background as they stepped out with confused expressions.

“oh my god.” nick let out a loud laugh, eyeing all the bags on the counter as his mouth opened to let out a gasp, his head slightly shaking. “shit, and you can’t even get me some cane’s when i ask for it?”

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henneseyhoe · 7 months

Text

BEDROOM BULLY (a sequel)

Chiron x BLACK!FEM!Reader.

——>(Pt1)<——

WARNINGS:no protection(wrap it df up), dirty talk, rough seggsss, daddy kink, reader is kinda delusional, shortttt y’all know the deal, it’s nasty! just read it!

SUMMARY: Chiron took the reader back to his place after their car meet session and he shows her that his grillz ain’t the only thing that can shine!

Ps. I wanted to do this before the spooky shit lmao. Hope y’all enjoy.<3

✮✮✮✮

Legs shaking, toes curling, eyes rolling. You had reached an all time high with your friends slut-meter. You facetimed them right after getting ate like thanksgiving dinner, geeking in this man’s passenger seat like the man in question wasnt a few feet away and the bottom of your ass wasn’t soaking wet, your thighs sticking together like honey on skin.

“Was it good?”

“You really let him do that?!”

“How many times you came?”

All comments they blurted out to you after getting the deets, and you answered all questions in complete honesty.

“You so lucky! His friend babymama started calling when I pulled down my pants”

One of your friends complained, making you cackle. covering your mouth so he couldn’t hear you laughing like a hyena while looking through his trunk for something to wipe your legs off with, you heard many more questions from the curious girls.

“Did you see how big he was though? Or y’all ain’t get that far?”

“You gon let him fuck?”

“Let him fuck? Of course she is! If I was her I would have been on the dick, fuck getting a towel and callin’ you hoes!” one of your friends answered for you.

“It would take 100 surgeons to remove me from that dick”

“Ouuu, I saw how he looked at you too. I just know that dick heavy”

And your friend was indeed right. It was.

✮✮✮✮

“DAMN, BABY-“ you shook and cried out as you allowed him to break you in, knocking that pussy straight out the damn frame. He had your legs crisscrossed and pushed down towards your chest, his hands gripping tightly on both of your ankles to pin you down, as if you could go anywhere with how bad your legs were shaking, even with him holding them down. His hips smacked into you so hard that your ass and the back of your thighs was turning red, mimicking your tear irritated eyes. “I CANT! Please! slow down!” You shout as your sensitive pussy convulsed, but he gave no mercy. “Don’t cry now, take this dick like a big girl” he teases, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix with every thrust forward, it had you drooling. Dick drunk for however long he was gonna put it in your spine. It wouldn’t even matter how tired you were gonna be in the morning, you were thinkin’ of getting up, and making this nigga some breakfast for this good dick.

Nothing in the room could distract you from how he was making you feel, and when your eyes weren’t rolled to the back of your head, they were gawking at the flashing gold chain around his neck, the color matching the grillz in his mouth. The piece swung back and forth in your face as he fucked you, the moonlight from the broad window next to the bed making the cross pendant twinkle like stars in the same night sky that rested above.

“You like that shit, huh? You like how daddy makin’ you take that dick, don’t even front” He curses.

“Yes! It’s so fu-uckin’ deep” You struggled and whined again, your jaw starting to hurt from you biting down your teeth for so long. You saw why girls go so crazy for they man, alongside with the stars that were blurring your vision currently. He had already noticed the attraction you had for his jewelry, and it made him chuckle, a low groan following right after. “You like my chain too?”

You nod, answering. “Yes, daddy!”

“Aight. Be a good lil’ bitch for me and I’ll let you wear it. Now, cum on this dick”

The curve of his dick touched the end of your pussy, his hips connecting with yours completely as he begins to grind himself. Both of you were recently waxed and shaved so the skin to skin contact sent you overboard. Yes, he was shaved nicely. Yes, he was a real slut.

His pelvic rubbed against your clit as he slow wined his hips, letting you feel all 9inches of that big dick in your guts. Your legs had gone numb and stopped shaking, but that didn’t stop you from showing him his new favorite water toy. You wet up his plum colored sheets with a wail, making even darker stains as your cream and slick dripped out of you, some on your thighs, some on your ass, but most on his sheets and that hammer he called a dick.

“Mhm, let it out”

“You feelin’ that shit, ma”

“This dick got you goin’ dumb like that? Close ya mouth”

“You takin’ this dick like a champ too, I might keep you”

He talked shit like no other cause he knew he was fuckin’ you like he wanted to put a ring on it. He couldn’t say he didn’t imagine it for a split second in that one moment where he had you halfway off of the bed, drool dripping from your mouth and down your throat with his hands tangled in your bundles as he dipped his dick in and out of your mouth, your cheeks hollowed until your jaw ached and his abs tightened, indicating that he was about to bust, wasting all that nut that could have been inside you.

He stops grinding into you and unbends your legs, letting the blood flow finally get to where it needed to go. Honestly, you were already fucked out, but you didn’t wanna tell him that and have him thinking you were lying about taking dick. But maybe you should have, cause when he turned you over to your side and laid behind you, you knew it was over. He didn’t even care to ask you politely to widen your legs. he pulled that ass back, hiked your leg up on his and slipped himself right back into those walls that were forever molded to the shape of his dick.

“Uh-huh. Let me get in that pussy, baby”

“You stretchin’ me, daddy!”

You both moan simultaneously, your pussy gripping him like she wanted him to stay deep inside forever. This position had your stomach twisting and turning like a whirlpool washing machine, your clit jumping at his fingertips touch as he slips his arm under your propped up leg and starts rubbing at your swollen button while his hips work on getting his dick to massage the deepest part inside of you. It was gonna be a long week, maybe even month, cause you wasn’t gonna leave him alone.

✮✮✮✮

PSS. Me watching y’all eat pt1 up cause I did NOT expect that to blow up 💀 Thank y’all for the love tho 🤭🩷🩷

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d6erys · 8 months

Text

─── i. camgirl dot net

⚢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✗ warnings; soft!dom!sam x sub!fem!reader, a lot of praise, age gap (r is legal), sexting/phone sex, possessiveness and jealousy. NOT PROOFREAD.

summary: samantha definitely doesn’t have the extra cash to spend from working two shitty end jobs, but can’t help it when the pretty doe-eyed girl loves the attention.

this was stupid and futile, it really was to samantha as she scrolls through the website of numerous cam girls on the website, flicking her wrist along the pages, close to being all parallel, typical and boring degrading usernames, naked and spread out just like the next and before, overdone moans and facial expressions, just blank faces until sam comes across one cam, her wrist still as her eyes read the username: bambi

chuckling softly at the username and wondering the meaning of twisting the innocent disney dear until sam clicks and her eyes catch doe-like ones staring at the camera, chocolate lace-clad to smooth skin, the lingerie thin and tiny, barely leaving any room for the imagination, but it was enough to wonder and desire what’s underneath the silky lace.

“fuck,” sam murmurs to herself as her attention glues to her computer screen, the pretty camgirl’s dark eyes gazes at the camera, her petite hand reaching up to lock a curl between a dainty finger and twirling.”the highest payer will get to pick what they wanna see me do to start the night off.” sam tugs her bottom lip between her teeth at the sound of your voice; so breathy and whiny, sam wonders if your voice is naturally that soft and needy or if it’s just a camgirl allure, regardless of the factor, it leaves her skin hot with desire and want.

sam watches tips fly in shortly after your statement, ten, twenty, thirty and it seems the highest payer so far is some guy with a lousy whooping seventy dollars, who quickly sends in his demand in the chat afterward, sam clenches her jaw at the user’s request, almost jealous at the fact you’ll be obeying him, and the emotion at the situation is so doltish - to get jealous about you following someone else’s command, a camgirl she only stumbled upon moments ago and who sam doesn’t know anything about, other than the bare skin that’s shown on her computer screen.

the next thing sam does is even more doltish than her silly sudden jealousy with her auto filling her credit card info into the slot and sending a 100 tip, outbidding the pathetic man who couldn’t even make his a solid 100.

“sammyc26,” sam physically has to shallow a groan when you speak her name in that tone, so breathy and soft, god this the first time she ever wanted to fuck someone so bad before, and so fast. arousal pulls at her stomach as she watches you to continue to toy with your acrylic nail in your mouth.”you’re the highest payer so far tonight, whatcha wanna see, baby?”

the butterflies of arousal now juts in her stomach harshly, feeling herself blushing, her body heating up from embarrassment at what she’s actually doing and the meek shyness of your voice now directed at her with that petname, as well as the desire of want pricking her skin. slowly sam begins typing on her computer, pushing the laptop further into her lap to try and get the best visual she can grab of you.

sammyc26: touch yourself for me

sam can feel herself flush hotter with excitement, anticipation, and abashed for actually doing this, watching intently as you read her comment out loud followed with a sweet laugh.”alright baby, if that’s what you want.” you answer samantha softly, trailing your fingers to the sides towards the bottom piece of your lingerie, teasingly pinching the silk ribbons, rolling them around your fingers before slowly unwrapping them gently and making sure to doe your eyes up as you do so.

sam’s throat runs a little dry and her tongue swipes her bottle lip as she watches your entertaining show, her chest inhaling up and down deeper than usual, especially when the ribbons finally fall and it gives more access to the view of your bare hips and a smudge bit of your inner thighs leading to your pussy. making the mistake and flickering her eyes to the comments and feeling that earlier jealousy flame intensely now, her brain shifting to some unspoken claim on you with your show and obeying her want.

the strain in sam’s jaw looses, almost falling slack when you peel the tiny excuse of clothing that’s covering your core, spreading your legs open and tossing your bottom set somewhere in your room, your eyes setting on the camera, your head against your silk pillows and your legs edging more and more bare, sam shallowing hard at the mere sight.”is this what you wanted baby?”

grunting at your teasing question, hovering her fingers over the computer keys, answering you.

sammyc26: yes. you’re so gorgeous angel

light pink dusts your cheeks at sam’s words, you were use to being referred hot and degrading words twisted into praise, you were never called gorgeous or a sweet petname like angel, a feeling smells in your lower stomach, samantha catching glimpse of it as slick begins to drip out of you. gorgeous, you were perfect like this; needy, flushed, spread and dripping, it made sam so desperately want to plow you into the mattress and give you everything you whined or begged for.

sam watches you tease yourself with a digit of yours, slowly circling your clit, releasing a needy small moan, —a natural one sam comments to herself mentally— and it burns sam up, flaming her skin and leaving her uncomfortable in her underwear. letting out a strangled groan at you now pushing your delicate fingers between your lips, saliva dribbling down and coating your palm, releasing them with a wet pop before moving them back down gently thrusting two digits inside yourself.

embarrassingly the sight could make sam cum alone, her dark brown eyes not leaving her screen for a second as she watches you build a speed to your rhythm, no longer holding back and letting out breathless whines and moans, slick skimming your thighs, your petite fingers as deep as they possibly can be inside of you but sam can tell it’s still not enough, and she so badly wishes her long fingers were in you instead, pounding them in your pussy.

kicking her panties down her legs and quickly reliving herself with some releasing for her own pleasure, sighing out as her fingers come into contact with her folds, sam’s heed on your movements with her hand between her legs. sam bites her lip to hold in her groans when she sees your legs starting to shake, slick leaking down to your smooth bare thighs, her free hand making work to type in the chat

sammyc26: don’t cum until i say it’s ok to angel

by the needy and frustrated sound you whine out sam knows you saw her comment and decided to follow through with her demand, that alone speeds her orgasm near with the sight of your flushed face and hair sprawled out on your silk pillow, your legs spread open for her —and undoubtedly everyone else in the chat but sam is choosing to ignore that factor— and your pouty lip tugged between your teeth to hold in those pretty cries of yours.

sammyc26: let me hear you, stop holding yourself back

at sam’s comment you allow yourself to release moans you didn’t even realize you were holding back, throwing your head against your pillow with the pleasure seeping between your thighs that you can’t let snap until your client flag’s it okay to so, tears pooling in your eyes, so badly wanting to cum which in any other stream you’d would’ve by now and not listened to whoever was behind the comments, it made them want you more and label you as an disobedient brat fantasy, but for some reason you want to actually listen to this new viewer, as stupid as it makes you feel.

your thighs quivering and pink lips jerks sam’s head in a lust filed haze as the coil in her stomach snaps with white hot pleasure clouds her vision, cum smearing across her palm, cursing lowly at the intensity of her climbmax leaving her breathless and sweaty, her hooded eyes still remaining on you as you struggle to keep yourself from cumming. sam is shocked to managed not to orgasm minutes ago, god does she wanna see how you’re pictured when you do.

sammyc26: cum for me

at the long awaited green light from sam you finally come with a high pitched cry and a shake wave throughout your body, eyes screwed shut as you come undone right before sam’s eyes, so delicate with an intense violence of your orgasm, it makes sam’s stomach in such desire like never before, and she’s almost saddened you closed your gorgeous bambi-like eyes when you finished yourself, she so badly wanted to see them all doe’d up as you came.

again, this was stupid and futile, it really was to samantha when her finger hovered over the message button of your profile, it’s been a few weekends since she first stumbled upon you and made sure to be home early enough every sunday to catch your show, spending more money than she would like to admit, money she knows needs to go to other place, and money she had to remake by taking up extra shifts, but it was all worth it in the end.

but since finding out you offer private shows at end of your last sunday broadcast, she desires much more now, she desire you way too much more now.

her obsession with random camgirl is unhealthy, sam knows.

after a few minutes your profile photo pops up in her messages, confirming you are hosting some private shows and fortunately for her, someone cancelled and there’s a slot open, in reality you were booked and actually had to cancel on someone to fit samantha in, a loyal client which was stupid of you since sam only pays you pennies in comparison of what that old pervert gives you more than what you make in a week of being a camgirl. but you were curious for your own good to see what sammyc26 looks like, and ultimately you were crushing too hard, you had no idea if sammyc26 was a man or woman yet, but you just knew they had to be attractive.

a lazily grin makes it’s way on sam’s lips, pushing down the ache of her pocket at the price you charged, but to get you alone with her eyes privy only to everything she wants you to do, it’s more than worth it.

once realizing the skye video chat is in less than ten minutes sam hurries to touch herself up, throwing on a sweater over her shirt and brushing her hair, debating on applying some makeup but quickly gets discorded when she hears her computer ringing, signaling it’s been ten minutes and you’re syke calling her.

sam hops on her bed with a rushed jump, taking a moment before answering, immediately being met with your gorgeous big eyes and mentally thinking how much the user bambi fits you. y

your pink lips curls into a sweet smile.”i’m glad to finally put a face to your name, sammy.”

swallowing thickly before replying.”hey angel.”

#sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x reader #scream imagines #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter

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jester089 · 6 months

Note

I feel I need to balance this angst out, do this AFTER you’ve done the others and given yourself time to chill…I’ve got my eyes on you…

Anyhow, how’s about the TADC gang all seperate with an s/o who’s just the definition of ‘chill’. They are the best comfort partner (just behind Kinger ofc), they comfort, share and engage in hobbies, show small signs of affection like soft side hugs and gentle butterfly kisses to the cheeks or neck, an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Will also 100% piggyback/bridal carry their significant other if asked or for fun. Just a pure wholesome fuzzy mess.

Lazy days

This is just going to be what I think their hobbies and all are. As it's a fluffy request I'm going to do softer not cannon versions of everyone. TADC crew x Chill/Relaxed Reader

Caine

Caine can be an incredibly busy man/AI so try and make him take breaks. He gets to caught up in work because he's so worried that if he doesn't have fun things to do then people will start abstracting. So when you walk into his office gently pick him up and sit down in his chair with him now sitting on your lap it helps him snap out of it. He isn't going to stop still. But he really appreciates you being there. You being there and every now and again giving him an idea you had makes the work take longer, but makes it much more enjoyable. You'll honestly probably end up falling asleep on him, arms wrapped around him head on his shoulder. Sadly he doesn't have a neck, or any real exposed skin. So kisses will be a little rough but that isn't gonna stop you. It is a little weird kissing a giant set of teeth though. And second he finished up, or at least reaches a point where he can stop you pick him up and take him to your bed. Sometimes he'll tunnel vision to much on something and you'll have to do that anyways. It's like holding an angry cat when that happens, minus the claws.

Gangle

Gangle loves affection but isn't amazing at giving nor receiving it. Any time you do anything she can and will blush. And if you protect her from Jax. Putty Gangle has arrived. How relaxed you are despite everything happening helps her out a lot. I headcannon that she loves working with clay, like making pottery and all. But sadly with her ribbon hands she can't do it anymore. Or rather couldn't, cause you help her out. You two will sit in front of a potters wheel. You have her place her hands on the outside of yours and you just let her lead. (I have made plenty of pottery in my time and I can safely say it is incredibly hard to do.) Sadly unless your helping her with something she doesn't let you in her pottery station anymore. You tried to make a mug for her without her and it didn't go well. You didn't know the first thing about pottery when she wasn't guiding you so it ended up blowing up in the kiln. You felt really bad. Cuddles with Gangle are a little strange. She doesn't have any real body weight so it really does feel like your cuddling a piece of ribbon (for good reason). So you two came up with something. You got a body pillow that's around her height and when you two are cuddling she'll wrap around it so she has more mass. When she needs some comfort you'll know. Whenever she's in a really bad mood and wants you touch but doesn't really want to say it she'll exist really close to you and start gently wrapping one of her arms around yours. Overall 10/10, she's a giant sweetheart and your lucky you got her. So treat her well yeah?

Zooble

I recommend bringing some kind of hoodie or blanket with you. Her edges can be a little harsh on the body. Out of everyone Zooble is the highest chance of most cuddles. She never gets involved in adventures and avoids the others when she can. Which basically just means more alone time with her. Zooble has a lot of insecurities concerning her new body and the circus. You're the only one she trust enough with that kind of thing so don't downplay her thoughts and emotions. The main way she shows affection is just spending time with you, she isn't big on touch and she doesn't exactly have the resources for gifts. And that worries her, she knows that she can be rude and unpleasant to be around but she doesn't have anything else to offer you. She's not great at communication so you really just need to keep patient and keep loving her. She has a jagged and rough exterior, but it like everything can be broken. It'll just take time.

Kinger

You two make a great bunch. The others never would have thought but if someone is having an especially bad day they go to you two. Kinger is amazing at calming and encouraging words, and your amazing at calming acts and setting up an atmosphere. You've saved a lot from abstraction because of that. Hugs are amazing from him. That royal medieval robe he's wearing is really nice to the touch. Sadly he doesn't have a mouth but he'll try and make up for that with head bonks (Head bonk: To gently place your head against someone you care about to show affection. Usually used when that person isn't comfortable with kisses.) One time you two built an actual castle out of pillows. It took you like a day but it had a working drawbridge and everything! Sadly it was broken during an adventure but it was really fun to build with Kinger. He can get a little... Unstable... When that happens a tight hug and a kiss can usually snap him out of it. But if that doesn't work bring him back to your room. The atmosphere you have set up and the fact that it smells like you will help him out a lot.

Ragatha

Once again you two make a good combo. She holds people off from breaking down. But if she can't stop it then she sends em to you. So once again you two help with abstraction a lot. But poor baby is stressed and you help provide some needed relief. I see her as the type of if she was expecting a kiss or a hug she'll hug/kiss back and thank you. If she wasn't she turns into a blushing mess with a big ol dopey smile on her face. Something she appreciates a lot is more childish things. Like if you start up a pillow fight with her she will be ecstatic. But be warned her pillows hit like a truck. Not cause their different just because she's really good at pillow fights. Her fav cuddle type is the honeymoon hug (look it up). She gets to be close to you and give you smooches if she wants. And she gets to feel like she's protecting you. She is the mom friend and you annoy her by saying over the top things like. "Ok MOM" when she asks you to stop doing something. First few times she hated it but now she goes along with it sayng things like "Hey! Don't talk back to me. Give me your phone you're grounded." She never means it though.

Jax

I think Jax is the most stable person in the circus. I'm saying he's mentally ok I'm just saying that he is by far at the least risk for abstraction. Whenever Jax plays a joke on someone and you go to help calm them down he gets a little jealous. He knows you love him but he doesn't really like you talking to others. So don't be surprised if you're in the middle of comforting someone and he just picks you up and walks away. He can be a little mean so for your own sake try and not take his words to heart. He just by second nature starts pointing things out that he dislikes, and often he starts pointing out things on/to do with you before he realizes. He also won't apologize so just try and ignore it. He sorta makes up for it with affection though. Cause he's pretty affectionate. Most of it is teasing yes, like he's come out of no where kiss your cheek and use a pet name that flusters you then just leave like he didn't do anything. But he's surprisingly gentle when it comes to that kind of thing. I see him being the type where you two fall asleep in the same bed and you wake up with him having his arms and legs around you probably drooling on your forehead. Or he's one of those that take up the whole bed so you often wake up on the floor. Many say that opposites attract. And you two are very different. But that isn't a bad thing.

Pomni

You two are opposites in a lot of ways. She is anxious and constantly in a state of panic/worry. And you never are. So you help her a lot. I see her being kind of like a cat towards you. Constantly around you and or begging for attention. I have an idea that I came up with a few years ago. It's a hoodie with a giant pocket inside. Like one of those baby carriers but minus the straps and inside the hoodie so who/whatever you keep in there share warmth. And she loves it. You two can be relaxing in your room and she'll realize something and spring off the bed you two were on. She and will turn the entire place upside down looking for it (https://www.tiktok.com/@louiencoco/video/7214862848042831110) so if you don't wanna have to clean up later just show her where it is. On a more serious note though you two were a match made in heaven and with enough time you could make a genuine improvement in her mental health. The main reason she's so fragile mentally is cause she never gets/got a break. So her favorite activity with you is probably just relaxing in one of your rooms away from the others.

(Tumblr deleted this like 3 times while I was writing it. And it turned out kind of bad because of that. Sorry but don't blame me. Blame tumblr.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #kinger x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 6 months

Text

i wish more than anything you were good to me; your memory kisses me softer than you ever did.

tz11 x reader: halloween parties are for exes.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), choking, hair pulling (both ways), fingering, dirty talk (obviously), both characters are toxic and mean and all that (i can't write a healthy tz11 relationship for the life of me, (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: welcome to the spice installment of sugar and spice! favorites - this was so fun for me to write, you have no idea. nothing i love more than a main character (you) who gives tz11 what's coming to him. if you don't like toxic relationships, maybe don't read, but i think this one is really fun. and you get a happy ending (my kind of happy ending, at least)! but, please, don't actually fuck your exes. i promise it's not as hot as i'm making it out to be. this is a shorter, single scene piece, sort of like my earlier stuff. i hope you enjoy, and i hope you tell me what you think. you can read the sugar installment here for a no-smut, meet-cute type of piece with jd6. happy halloween! sending so much love and beauty and gentleness to you and your snakes. go canucks! i love that i can say that and have them actually be playing! until next time).

a couple hours before, when you were getting ready for the party, lacing up your corset with thick red ribbon and painting thin, dark veins under your eyes like spiders, you had laughed with your friends about how nothing could ruin this night.

evidently, you had been wrong.

you felt him before you saw him. you had always had a sort of sixth sense for his presence. even when you were together, looking back, it wasn't necessary a good feeling, but a stimulating one. when he entered a room, your blood felt like it sparked to life, moved through your body faster than what was healthy. electricity hummed at your fingertips, practically making your teeth chatter.

this time, a month or so after you broke up with him, a month or so after he cheated on you without even a breath of remorse, a bitter taste filled your mouth.

a bitterness that exploded when he locked eyes with you across the dark, crowded room. his eyes that you had hoped you wouldn't recognize, hoped you wouldn't find as captivating as you had before.

but you did, and he probably knew that. he smirked at you, the expression pulling at his mouth in an easy way you had always been envious of. you scowled, turned away, felt something like rage and embarrassment and grief well up within you, push at the boundaries of your body, threaten to force their way to the outside world, to the world of the known.

your waterline felt tense, explosive with the pressure of it all. your skin felt hot, your hands didn't feel like yours. you ducked your head down, felt your exhale come out shallow and shaky, almost like the breath you let out when you had shut your door on him, one last time, not so long ago. maybe you should just go home. maybe you weren't ready, just yet. maybe -

"sugar."

you lifted your head up instinctually, found him much too close, so close it made you devastatingly angry. how could he stand here, so close you could smell his cologne, but not the one you had bought him for his last birthday? instead, that cheap, horrid one you always hated but he insisted on? the one you thought made him smell like an over-excited teenager?

and who was he to call you that, now? a name that once had sent your head spinning with delight, with fantasies of a one-day autumn wedding, of a house with a wrap around porch, of a rescue dog and a blue-tile kitchen. now, it made wrath cloud your head like potent whiskey.

"trevor," you responded, surprised yourself at the hardness, the coldness that froze your words in midair.

he pouted as he leaned back against the wall, his bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic way. he was making fun of you.

he nodded up and down, gesturing to your costume. "and what're you supposed to be? dracula's whore?"

you bristled. he never had understood boundaries, how he had relinquished any right to judge you.

you looked good, you knew it, and you could tell he knew it, too. he wouldn't have called you that if he didn't. and you didn't miss the spark of heat that caught behind his gaze, the way his eyes caught lazily on your chest.

he was an asshole, but he still wanted you. that had to count for something.

"what are you supposed to be? a narcissistic douchebag?" you looked him up and down, and a laugh bubbled free from your throat. a real one, when you realized what he was wearing. "no way you actually wore your own jersey."

you shot him a look of false pity, placed a manicured hand over your heart like a southern belle that possessed all the forgiveness you so lacked. "couldn't pay some other girl to wear it for you? no one wants to be an overrated sellout this halloween?"

he chuckled, a sound full of danger and you hated how your stomach turned upon hearing it. how something tightened at the reminder of the good parts - how you wished you could only remember the bad ones.

your biting tone seemed to set him at ease, if anything. he cocked his head to the side, crossed his arms across his chest, shot you a knowing look. "when have i ever had to pay for that, sugar?" he asked, teasing and slow, like talking to a toddler.

a tone you refused to accept.

"i don't know," you shrugged, brushed your hands on your skirt. "i guess i always assumed you paid off the girl you cheated on me with." you gave a light gesture to his general being. "because it isn't your looks, and surely it isn't your sparkling personality."

he laughed, deep and raw, rebalanced himself on his feet. you took a sip of your drink, ran your tongue along your cheek, took the opportunity to really take him in.

it's not like he looked too different from when you last saw him. same messy hair, if not a bit grown out. same sharp features, same childish expressions that always made him look less mature than his face. same long frame and strong shoulders. same aura of self-assurance, of steadiness.

"are you done, sugar?" he asked, in a single motion grabbing your drink from your hand and taking a sip.

you rolled your eyes. "like you want me to be." you didn't necessarily have a problem with him knowing you were looking at him like that. maybe it was a side effect of having been in a serious (to you) relationship with him.

he shrugged. "fair enough," he conceded, and you took your drink right back.

"you don't like cocktails, remember," you bit out, attempting to wield history like some fabled blade.

when you were together, he never drank sweet drinks, even though you knew he liked them more than beer or hard liquor. he would always drink yours, like he was doing now.

you had always believed he was far too concerned with his image.

his smirk grew deeper, a flash of teeth that could have been a snarl if he took you more seriously. "how's celibacy treating you, then, sugar?"

"stop calling me that," you bit out, felt your anger swirl around you like a poison fog.

"you're nothing else to me," he said, little more than a scoff.

you refused to even justify his narcissism with a response. you shoved your cocktail into his chest for him to finish. "and i'm not celibate, you dick." you tilted your head, let your eyes fill with pity. "someone needed to finish the job after a year of dissatisfaction." the lie felt powerful as it escaped past your teeth.

so you turned, walked away from him, before he could bite out something terrible.

finding your friends, making your way to the dance floor, you exhaled, something heavy and flat on your breath. something that may have had something to do with the fact that even after all he had done, all he had put you through, how much you hated him, you still wanted him.

how infuriating was that? how paper thin the line was between want and spite?

so a combination of both rumbled through you like an earthquake as you danced, let your hair fall gracefully down one side of your neck, your head thrown back, the music like a heartbeat.

you didn't know where he was, but you knew he was watching you, knew he couldn't tear his gaze away, and that knowledge was intoxicating.

even as someone else came up behind you, some other lacking man whispered something in your ear, something that made you laugh, even as this ghost of a man put a hand on your hip, and swayed with you, even then he was watching.

he was watching for what could have been a moment, could have been an hour, until he was right in front of you again, pulling you away, pulling you down the hall, until it was just the two of you under dim lights, the air smelling of smoke and regret.

you peered up at him, his body so, so close. "what the fuck, trevor?" you seethed.

he boxed you against the wall, his forearm above your head, the other hand bracing at your side. "oh, please, sugar. you don't want him."

the air between you sparked, familiar as a favorite sweater. you smirked at him, found want flooding from his gaze like an unchecked faucet. maybe you would have pointed it out if you didn't know the same want was reflected in yours.

"ah," you said. "you're jealous." your mouth ticked, smug, satisfied. you brought a delicate hand up to pat his cheek like a chastising grandparent. "rich, coming from you, trev."

you made to pull your hand back, but he was faster, moving his own hand to cover yours, holding it against his face.

the gravity of the motion startled you, made your stomach tighten. this, a voice cooed inside of you like a demon, this is the part you'll miss.

"'m not jealous," he breathed, shaky, as if your extended touch made him lose his balance.

was his face getting closer to yours? when was the last time you had been able to see his eyes so close, besides in memories that made hot tears prick at your lashes?

"liar," you hissed, heat from his cheek seeming to scorch clean through your palm.

"yeah, sugar?" he whispered, his gaze dipping down to your mouth almost drowsily, "make a liar out of me."

he guided your lips to his in a kiss that felt like your favorite dive bar after weeks of fancy hotel restaurants, like flame and fog and tarnished jewelry you couldn't bring yourself to take off.

he relaxed against your body with a sound you had forgotten he could make, in moments like these. a mix of a moan, an exhale, a whimper - how could you have forgotten? surely there had never been anything more important.

you looped your arms around his neck, pulled him down, closer, as he reached down to hook one of your legs up around his hip.

you moaned into his mouth as he rolled his hips up into you, exactly the kind of frantic and direct you had missed from him.

he tasted like the sweet drink you had shared, like brutal history, like catastrophic closure.

somehow, this felt like power, as you felt him harden against you.

because you wanted him, sure, but he would never have you the way he had before. he would never have all of you, so completely and wholly and absolutely. never again would he understand the privilege of how he had known you before, so cruelly and deeply and personally.

tonight, you would have him with a nonchalance and an indifference that felt like victory. you would have him, and then you would walk away, and you wouldn't feel abandoned or less-than or second best.

so you laced your hands into the grown out curls at the nape of his neck, tugged gently, swallowed his following moan. you rolled your hips right back against him, let yourself relish in how good he felt, how solid.

you let him drag his lips down to your neck, linger there, biting lightly at your collarbone. you let his fingers trace across your upper thigh, reaching gently under your short skirt. his gentleness made you smirk.

"getting shy on me, now?" you said, your voice a low laugh. he picked his head up, eyes heavy, searching yours. you gathered his shirt in your fist, tugged him to your level. "i don't want shy."

he rolled his eyes in a playful sort of way, a light teasing in his gaze. "and sugar always gets what she wants, hm?"

maybe a past you would have blushed, been embarrassed, but just hummed a sound of affirmation and let him pull you somewhere with a door that locked.

in a blur the door was shutting and you were pushed up against it as he once against hiked up your leg, this time without any hesitation, his hands moving like muscle memory.

there was no trace of shyness, of gentleness, because what room was there for that? you were past that kind of relationship with him.

your breath caught when he finally dragged his rough fingers through your folds, made you arch your back up off the door, which made him tsk in disapproval.

"stay still for me, sugar," he cooed, with his other hand keeping your torso pressed down, "be good for me, yeah?"

you nodded as he pushed a finger inside of you, focused all your energy into keeping your back against the door. the sensation made you crazy, made your stomach tighten, your head cloud as he began to set a slow rhythm in and out.

"fuck, trevor." you choked on a moan, squeezed at his bicep so hard you wondered if there would be purplish phantoms of your fingertips left behind. "fuck, faster, please."

"always were so greedy," he groaned as he picked up the pace, making your head roll back, feel the indentations of the door in your hair.

you dug your nails into his arms, sucked on your teeth when he groaned at the pain, brought your other hand down to run just under his waistband, felt a shiver erupt under your fingertips.

"don't," he practically growled, his voice almost hoarse as his hand shot from your stomach to your throat, holding you in place and squeezing just gently enough to feel. he slowed the pace of his fingers down to something excruciating, so beautifully deep but just not enough. "don't tease, sugar."

despite it all, you felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. "why, baby?" you looked up at him through your lashes, could already feel your mascara running like your tears had, that night you found out. "scared you'll cum too quick?" you watched rage disguised as humor flash across his gaze, a look that brought back a million memories.

you cupped his jaw with a palm, soft and mocking like some kind of cruel mother. "'s okay, baby, some girls like that."

he ran his tongue along his teeth, slow and deliberate, below flipping you around so that your cheek was pressed against the door, your hands bracing yourself against it.

you felt him tug clothes aside, heard him spit into his hand. "think you're so funny, don't you?"

"your friends think so, too," you said, which had him tugging you back by your hair, a hiss escaping your parted lips.

"enough," he rasped, an angry noise, as he thrust into you, hard and deep, forcing a moan from somewhere inside of you you barely remembered.

his pace was immediate and staggering, so deep you felt him in your palms, so hard you remembered everything your grief had so graciously forced you to forget.

"fuck, sugar," he bit out, rough, like maybe he was remembering, too. "so wet for me, hm?"

maybe you nodded, stunned by sensation, as his rhythm solidified, sending you spiraling, your stomach tensing with that lovely pressure.

he reached a hand around you to rub at your clit as he continued to thrust into you, making your moans come out louder, made words die in your throat like flowers unwatered.

"nothin' to say, eh, sug?" he rasped. "so polite when you're clenching around my cock, hm?" his grasp on your hair tightened, making you whine. "tell me."

"stretchin' me so good, baby," you breathed, too far gone to care about anything but how close you were. "fuck, so close."

he groaned, and you could sense his arrogant smile. you had always known his mouth better than your own. "feel you close around me." his hand stilled against your clit, and you could have pouted. at your sound of discontent, he twisted your hair in his fist.

"beg, sugar." you whined, to which he thursted into you deep, silencing you. "only good girls get to cum, hm? beg." something devilish flashed in his eyes. "for old times' sake."

you could feel your body stutter on the edge. "please, baby, please make me cum." you reached a hand behind you to cup the side of his face. "need you so bad, trevor, promise i'll make you feel so good."

that must have been enough, because his hand resumed motion at your words, sending you over the edge quickly and overwhelmingly. in the haze of your climax, your moan and pressure triggered his own, hot and consuming.

you felt his whole weight as he collapsed against you, your chests heaving in time, your exhales sticky with history and knowing and other terrible things.

eventually, the fog around your head dissipated as you shrugged him off of your back, shifted your clothes back to something that resembled the way you had entered the party. you knew your makeup was ruined beyond repair, but maybe you could just change your costume from vampire to dracula's whore.

you wiped at your lip liner with your finger, using your phone camera as a mirror. "this changes nothing," you said, finally, breaking the silence, still looking at your phone.

he shrugged as he adjusted his own clothes. "it changes a little."

you met his gaze a final time, and you could have laughed. because you knew in your purest heart that it really, genuinely, didn't. "you're right," you said, opening the door, leaving him in his own stupid jersey. "you're not as good as i remember."

you shut the door behind you, began making your way back to your friends, to get a drink you didn't have to share with anyone.

and as the music got louder in your ears, you realized there was something wonderful about knowing he had lost the best thing he would ever have, but your best was still ahead of you.

how lucky you felt for that.

fin.

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #smut #nhl smut #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #tz11 #anaheim ducks #jack hughes x y/n #trevor zegras x y/n

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