#I haven’t been this giddy in far too long

[vampiresfromxenon]

I Wanted To

Astarion x gn! Reader/Tav

Almost 3.5k words 

Tags: Fluff, kisses, cuddling, angst, biting mention, no use of y/n, words of affection (so much sappiness), soft! Astarion, they’re in love your honor!! 

CW: Slight mentions of SA and trauma (extremely minor, incredibly light piece)

Summary: You and Astarion decide to start your relationship over once you both confess your feelings. It's a mutual decision to take things extremely slow, celebrating little victories of intimacy here and there. Tonight, you can't hide your words of affection as he becomes more comfortable and vulnerable around you.

~

It’s been a few months traveling with this rowdy crew, and you can’t help but smile thinking about how much you love them all. Granted, they all piss you off on the daily, what from Shadowheart and Lae’zel attempting to kill each other, to Gale eating your favorite pair of enchanted gloves, but you can’t help yourself from smiling every time you think about how close you’ve all grown. One particular member in the party you have become very close with stands out a bit more than the rest, and thoughts about him are enough to make you unsettlingly giddy. 

For the longest time, you and the pale elf fought your feelings, too cold to warm up to each other. You both had a wicked past, something that tainted your current perceptions of love and romance. His may have been far more extreme than yours, but regardless of that fact, your feelings and emotions were still valid. For a short few weeks, you found yourselves being extra intimate, dismissing it all as stress relief and nothing more. Those little excursions were merely there as a form of self protection: He gained your trust and protection, and you felt less alone and vulnerable at night. Or, so you thought, until you noticed how distant he was, his eyes never meeting yours every time he sought to pleasure you. 

It wasn’t until recently that these barriers slowly began to be chipped away for the both of you, your infatuation not only becoming more real, but unfortunately, more terrifying. One night, you approached him, being brave and understanding if he had other thoughts about what you two could be. It was late, most of the camp either asleep or preparing for bed. You approached him, a soft hand on his shoulder, even though he was well aware you were there. What you were there for though, remained a mystery to him. He turned, smiling at you, taking your hand and kissing it affectionately. As your heart raced, you began a discussion with him, asking his thoughts and feelings about your ‘connection’ rather than just bombarding him with an overwhelming confession of love. 

He seemed stunned to say the least, unsure of what to say or how to feel. It was strange for him, his cold heart beating a little faster, feeling a little warmer at the sight of you in front of him, actually seeing him for him and not just another plaything. All these feelings were bubbling up inside him because, for the first time in a long time, someone not only asked him what he wanted in a romantic relationship, but they respected anything he said on that subject matter. In all his nervousness, he felt that he could be honest in his reciprocation to see how far you two could go, this time with real feelings. That was a few weeks ago, and all this time since has been magical. 

You haven’t intimately slept together since just before that night, instead establishing boundaries and focusing more on the non-sexual ways to be intimate, loving, and kind. He loves the way your hand brushes his, the way your fingers interlace with his as he moves in to hold your hand. You love the way his hand lands on your back, stretching to your hip to pull you closer to him, especially when meeting new people from town to town. While you still struggle with eye-contact in general, it feels easier around him, especially now since he has found himself to be more comfortable actually looking at you, taking in your appearance and being more present in your conversations. 

For many nights now, you’ve been cuddled up nicely in one or the other’s tent, fingers interlaced, hands gently wrapped around hips, legs occasionally intertwined. He still continues to feed on you, though he makes sure to gain your permission before bed each night. On the nights where you felt too tired, too drained mentally even, he would leave you be, hoping to keep you as comfortable as possible. Those nights were just as romantic, as you could feel his breath against your neck as he cuddles you tightly, his lips on your shoulder as he falls into the soft rhythm of sleep. 

Tonight didn’t start off any differently from any other night; you both gathered in his tent, doing your nightly routines as per usual (always before promptly passing out until the next morning hit you like a boulder). Most nights he would wear a nice, silky pajama set, one he purchased from an unreasonably expensive fashion designer in a small village. You didn’t have as luxurious of pajamas, but yours still covered most of your body, keeping you feeling safe and snuggled up each night.

Neither of you expected that this night would change everything.

He’s standing off to the side of your shared bedroll, changing into his pajamas while your back is turned to him, fiddling with the blanket you both share. You notice just how used this blanket is, and you realize that it might have been the only thing giving him comfort, the feeling of security over the past 200 or so years. Astarion was far from one to share, whether it was his feelings or his belongings, and it isn’t long before you have a second realization: you are possibly the only person to have ever slept with that blanket besides him. Your fingers gently roll the decaying fabric between your fingers, taking in all of his memories that have been exhausted on the threads. 

You hear him walking over and you drop your thoughts about the blanket, not wanting to pry into more of his distressing past. He kneels, picking up the blanket and sliding next to you, your bodies touching in an instant. Turning your attention away from the blanket, you look up to see your love is shirtless, moving around in the bedroll, trying to be more comfortable at your side. 

You know just how insecure he is about his scars from Cazador, that disgusting, vile, treacherous bitch, but it was so lovely to see him stepping out of his comfort zone. While you’re quick to notice this new change, he’s even quicker to notice your reaction. Diving back into his comfort charm, he smirks at you, loading a phrase to protect his vulnerable side.

“Like what you see, darling?” His eyes flutter to the side a bit, and you immediately notice his withdrawal from the conversation. With a calm and gentle hand, you caress his cheek, turning his attention back to you. 

“I always love what I see…” You smile, your eyes looking at him in such a way that your face beams with pride, though you try to find a balance between that and neutral so as to not overwhelm him. To see just how much he trusts you, is willing to open up to you and be vulnerable… Your heart can barely take it. In a quiet voice you’re sure to check in on him, wanting to make sure he feels secure in his choice. “Don’t feel you have to do this for me though, okay?” 

His hand reaches up to hold yours against his cold cheek, his stare suddenly becoming more present. “I wanted to.” His voice is low, his hand taking yours off his face as he leans in gently to kiss your palm. He kisses your forehead before moving to lie down, making himself comfortable in your small space. 

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you want him to be aware that you feel the same sense of shared comfort. As he turns to the side, looking at a book he left on the ground earlier, you move to remove your shirt, tossing it off to the side. He moves the book away from you both so you don’t roll into it in the night. Turning back to face you, he pauses, taking in the sight of your bare chest. He looks up at you, tilting his head, nearly asking you the same question you just asked him.

Before he can say anything, you lean slightly closer to him, your voice a loud whisper. “I wanted to.” His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s flattered by this display of intimacy. You begin to crawl under the old blanket with him, and he pulls you close, his hand around your waist. The feel of his cold, soft skin against your bare back is enough to send shivers down your spine, and you realize that this must be so close to what heaven feels like. His free hand reaches up and caresses your jaw before tangling in your hair, gently playing with it as he knows it helps you fall asleep. 

Your hand rests on his bare chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowing down as he continues to relax in your care. You lie there for a while, trying to sleep, but something is keeping you awake. Perhaps it’s the looming threat that you could all die soon in brutally vicious ways, or the fact that you don’t want to waste a single second enjoying this time with your new lover. Suppose you’ll never truly know. 

Regardless of what is keeping you up on this night, you begin to feel a little restless, unable to lie there in that position for too much longer without your arms going numb. You sit up a little, leaning on the arm you’ve been lying on, trying to not wake your companion. However, his body shifts with you, and it appears that he is still just as awake as you are.

 “I didn't wake you, did I?” You whisper in a worried voice. 

“Not in the slightest, my dear. Unable to sleep tonight, as I am sure you understand.”

You sigh, still leaning over him slightly, his hand that was once on your waist now drawing circles on your shoulder blade, the hand in your hair now resting on your hip. You want to speak, but you find yourself getting lost in the way his face looks in the moonlight peeking through his tent flap. It frames his face so perfectly, almost as if this scene was sculpted by the Gods. He notices your sudden distance, and he is quick to check in on you. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his voice, once again tilting his head like a confused puppy. 

“Sorry… Yes, yes. More than alright.” You reassure him, not breaking your focus. A beat; he attempts to determine what’s on your mind. Thinking he’s found it, he smirks. 

“Admiring how beautiful I am?”

“Yeah… Just looking at creases around your eyes…” You say in a loving tone, not even remotely aware of how backhanded the comment you just made sounds. 

He begins to shuffle, pushing you away, offended by your lack of sincerity. “Alright, there’s no need-” 

“No! Not like that.” You chuckle, snapping back into reality. You grab him, pulling him back to you, his head pressing back into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” You can’t stop yourself from laughing a little at the sight of your pouting partner underneath you. 

You notice just how unamused he is, and you abruptly stop laughing, clearing your throat and composing yourself in a more serious manner. Your hand reaches up and the pad of your thumb brushes against his crows feet, your mind falling back into your feelings of love and adoration for him. 

“The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh… The way your eyes sharpen when you’re glaring at me, like you are right now… The way they soften every time I walk in the room… I love those wrinkles, they’re such a beautiful part of you.” He relaxes again, taking in your words, though still unhappy at your mention of his wrinkles, making him feel old. Though, no matter how much he hates his aging characteristics being brought up, he will never turn away any form of flattery. 

“Well, augh. You really are sweet, aren’t you? But I’m sure you like more of me than just my dreaded wrinkles.” He was definitely fishing for compliments, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t aware of just how much you wanted to smother him in loving words. You lean forward and kiss his crows feet on both sides, surprising him. Smiling, your thumb traces over his eyebrows, taking in their shape and feel. 

“My eyebrows, really? Nothing else catching your eye?” He whines, his hands going back to resting on your shoulder blade and hip. He can feel your body shake as you laugh, your head falling forward towards his chest as you continue to giggle from his pouting. You bring your head back up, focusing on his face once more. 

“One thing at a time, dearest.” You pause, analyzing the shape of his eyebrows. Just how sharp they are, how often he uses them to his advantage when he is charming people. As you continue to gaze at them, he raises one of them, making your heart go crazy. 

“You’re so expressive. Your eyebrows are so perfectly shaped, the way you use them like a weapon… I know it’s silly, I know they’re just eyebrows, but they’re your eyebrows, and they mean so much to me.” You trail off, your face flushed with embarrassment as you realize just how overly sentimental your words are. He smiles at you, knowing just how hard you’re trying, and appreciating every second of it. You kiss his eyebrows before quickly moving on.

Your fingers trace along his face, noticing his mole. By now he’s exhausted, you’re three for three with things he’s sensitive about. “Darling, if this is your way of making me feel less upset about not being able to look in mirrors, I must say it’s starting to work.” His words deceive his face and body language, but you still try to abide by his wishes. 

Wanting to show your love, without spending too much time on it, you mention how much the mole under his eye suits him, how he would almost seem incomplete without a beauty spot. The usage of ‘beauty’ in ‘beauty spot’ convinced him to let it slide, but the ice you were dreamily skating on was wearing thin. Kissing his mole, you move on once again. 

The skin of his nose was soft as you trace the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose. “Your nose… it’s so sharp. Don’t laugh, but one of my favorite feelings is when I wake up and your nose is either on my back or my neck. I can feel your breathing on my skin, your nose pressed against me while you sleep. It’s so calming, having any little part of you so close to me.” He looks at you a little confused, mostly due to the fact that you’re still here appreciating him. The things you’re saying, they’re so small and insignificant, yet you enunciate each word like it’s the most important thing you’ll ever say. Each word has a purpose, a meaning, and they fall out of your mouth effortlessly; something he still has yet to learn how to do. 

You kiss the tip of his nose, your fingers tracing down his face to his smile lines. Oh his smile lines. You just can’t help but adore his smile lines, no matter how much he absolutely hates them. He hates them because they age him, but you love them for all the same reason. To know he laughs, smiles, has any semblance of being happy is enough for you to be overjoyed at the sight of these lines that prove the existence that he has been able to enjoy life enough to have physical proof on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” He teases, though you wish he could bear with you for just a moment to explain your thoughts. Figuring you could do it another time, as tonight has already had enough excitement, you kiss his smile lines and spare him from your honeyed words. 

Last, but certainly not least: his lips. Your thumb traces over his lips which are closed together, gently pushing up just enough to where you wonder if he was trying to secretly kiss your thumb. As you continue to run your thumb over his lips, reminiscing on all the times your own experienced his, he takes you by surprise. 

Removing the hand from your hip, his thumb graces your lips, and you find yourself trying to inconspicuously kiss at it like he did to you just moments ago. You open your mouth to speak, but he uses his finger to silence you, gently shushing you. 

“My turn.” His voice is smooth and tender as his thumb continues to trace over your slightly parted lips. “Your lips… They have always been so soft and inviting.” He pauses, still staring at them.

“I must admit, I despised them at first.” A confused expression crosses your face just before he continues. “They would taunt me on a daily basis, the one thing I couldn’t have no matter how much charm I threw at you. When I was eventually graced with them, I loathed the way my name would be cried out from them, almost as if you were saying it like a prayer. It tore me apart, wanting something I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, or even felt like I deserved…” He trails off, though his gaze remains constant on you.

“How do they make you feel now?” You softly ask, just barely loud enough for even yourself to hear.

He thinks on this for a moment, searching for the proper word.

“Safe.” 

He leans up to you, cupping your cheek as he kisses you, the most delicate and loving kiss you two have ever shared. You both pull from the kiss, exercising restraint and respect for your pre-established boundaries. A hand resting on his chest, you encourage him to lie back on the pillow once more, which he does. You lean forward, kissing every part of his face that you mentioned, as well as a few spots just because you wanted to. Kissing his lips again, you pull apart just enough to whisper against his lips. 

“I admire everything about you. Every aspect of you is just so lovely… Thank you for being here, with me. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

He smiles, his fangs poking out this time. His hand moves a strand of hair out of your face as he clears his throat. 

“And thank you for all the kisses.” He says, resuming his usual charm. You try to hide your slight disappointment, but you know he is trying his best and you can’t expect him to always meet you halfway, especially in this time of healing. 

“Always.” You whisper, lying down next to him as he wraps his arms around you, holding you closely. It’s late, and now that you have this feeling lifted off your chest, you find it easier to sleep. Your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing finding its usual pattern, your lover wrapped up tightly with you. 

When you’re on the edge of falling asleep, you feel his head tilting down towards yours, which is resting on his chest. His lips kiss the top of your head, his chin then resting on that same spot. A quiet voice breaks the air, unaware that it still has an audience.

“I love you.”

You freeze, unsure of whether or not you have actually fallen into a dream state, or if you just heard him correctly. In this state of grogginess, your body shifts as you attempt to determine the truth.

“Shit. Did you hear that?”

“Mhm.” You sleepily groan. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s talking to you in your sleep like he has before. Settling further into the bedroll, making himself more comfortable, he pulls you tighter, finally deciding to rest. 

“I love you too.” You break the silence, your voice more awake this time. His eyes flash open, his red irises laser focused on you. You can feel his heart pounding as you rest on his chest, and you lean over and kiss just above his heart.

“Safe.” Is all you can say before promptly passing out, your warm skin slowly heating up his own. He sits there for another moment, taking in the events of today. It was a lot, to say the least, but he felt comfortable and confident in his decisions, and that was almost truly a first for him. His hand finds its way back into your hair, stroking it as he begins to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable, guarded, protected, safe. 

~

Author’s Note:

He’s extremely OOC, I’m 95% sure lmao but I love making characters total softies, even if we don’t see that side of them in the media they’re from. (I'm still in the very beginning of Act 2 so I'm learning a lot about him through this site too)

I’ve never experienced love, I’m also sure that’s obvious- I’ve always wanted to do something like this with someone though (look at their face and kiss all my favorite spots). While I was writing this, I felt so awkward writing such sappy dialogue, but I realized that moments like these aren’t smooth and rehearsed; feelings get mushy and oftentimes people say dumb and dorky things because they’re just so in love. I hope it gets translated that way at least hahaha

My Spotify is fucked because I listen to specific songs on repeat whenever I write. I have probably about 4-5 hours of “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday logged on there now because of all the time planning, writing, and thinking about this fic- I got this song from Neil’s Astarion playlist, it’s so sweet and loving :) 

Edit: So many people are saying he’s actually pretty in character so thank you for the validation because I was nervous 😭

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion x tav #gn!tav #bg3 tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #soft astarion #astarion fluff #they're in love your honor #fluff fic #tooth rotting fluff #they're so sappy #i also wanted an excuse to call Cazador a bitch #and i love making jokes about Gale eating enchanted clothes even though he doesn't need to in my run anymore #no y/n #i hate y/n sorry

[explicit-tae]

V-Day Special

You ask your ex - who you're still close with - if he's willing to come on your cam-show for a valentine's day special.

Word Count: 5.838

Warning: live sex, smut, degradation kink, dacryphilia, impact play, spit kink, overstimulation, breath play, impregnation kink, nipple piercings, sextoys, fingering, dirty talking, squirting, voyeruism, slapping, edging, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie,

@whipwhoops @darkuni63 @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632

Valentine's Day Masterlist

You knock on the door, arms crossed. The cool air slices through your skin as you await for Taehyung to answer.

There’s nerves bubbling through you - you haven’t done anything with Taehyung in so long. You were surprised when he agreed to your request.

Being a camgirl wasn’t easy work, but it was rewarding. You’ve been doing so for a while now and have gained a following. You had regulars, and sometimes you’d do requests - some weird stuff, but never anything too weird that you couldn’t do.

Today, however, you had to spice things up. You were always alone in your room when you did your shows, always fucking yourself and never truly had a partner.

Today was Valentine’s day, and Valentine’s day was all about having a partner.

Again, you were surprised when Taehyung agreed. You and he dated about two years prior and things didn’t end sour and you and he remained friends. You could come to him for anything - he often lend an ear when you needed to talk and gave advice. Even if he didn’t agree, you would hope he would send someone your way.

“I’ll do it.” Taehyung had said - much to your shock - with such a cool, nonchalant attitude. “We can go to my house and do it for a change of scenery.” You had offered wearing masks, but he insisted that it was fine - another shocking statement.

Taehyung swings the door open, a wide smile on his face. “Y/N, hello.” he opens the door wider and steps aside for you to enter.

“Hey, Tae.” you say, jumping into the warm home with a sigh of relief. “You look nice.”

“As do you.” Taehyung responds. “Somehow, I sense you’re wearing lingerie under that long trench coat.” he says teasingly, eyes roaming your figure.

Your body flushes and slowly, you nod. “We have business to attend to. Had to come prepared.” you give a curt grin. 

“Indeed we do.” Taehyung licks his lips. “I’ve set up the laptop and everything already.”

You nod your head. The day prior, Taehyung had insisted on you giving him your equipment so he can set it up perfectly.

“I also decorated my room for the occasion.”

You already know the layout of Taehyung’s home and you scoff at his words as you walk towards his bedroom. “Decorated how?”

“You’ll see.” Taehyung’s voice is giddy as he follows you to his bedroom. You only snicker and venture towards his bedroom.

Taehyung has you open the door, and your eyes widen as you do. “Tae, you’re always so dramatic…” you sigh, but your body flushes at the sight. 

“It’s a V-Day special,” Taehying places his hands on your shoulders. “we have to go all out.”

Taehyung uses your words against you - you had said it to him back when you asked if he was willing to be on camera with you.

Taehyung had decorated his room and it’s only now that you realize how large it truly was. His bed sits in the middle of the room, bed made neatly. There’s balloons - red, pink, white and even a few heart shaped ones, littering the ceiling. On the far right of his room is your equipment that you’ve given him - but only now did you realize he had a ring light and you want to shake your head at how dramatic he truly was. 

“Rose petals?” you turn to face him with a laugh. “How much time did you put into this?”

And money, you want to ask, but Taehyung would never tell you. There’s rose petals leading from the door of his bedroom all the way to his bed.

“A few hours. Jimin helped me.” Taehyung admits, a light tint to his cheeks. Jimin had teased him about putting so much effort for an ex-lover - now friend - for a show, but it wasn’t like you and he weren’t friends. He was willing to help you with whatever you asked. 

“Gotta set the mood, don’t we?” Taehyung murmurs, closing his bedroom door. “How about you start setting up while I light the candles?”

“Candles?” you shake your head. “Tae-”

“Y/N, baby. All out, remember?” Taehyung winks, then ventures through his room and to his closet. He pulls out a small box and turns towards you. “Confession?” he asks and slowly you nod. It’s something you and he would ask when there was something that needed to be confessed and the other promised not to be upset - it started when you accidentally ruined one of his favorite pairs of designer shoes. “I subscribed to you a few months ago.”

Taehyung watches as your eyes widen slightly. “Oh, really?” you ask, a slight nerve in your voice.

Taehyung nods. “When you told me you were camming, I was curious. I finally caved a few months back.” he admits. “Does that bother you?”

You're hot at the idea of Taehyung watching you. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. Taehyung and you’ve been intimate before back when you two dated - but that was years ago. Now it made sense that he’d agree to be with you again, you think. 

“N-No.” you stutter, cursing mentally at yourself. You muster a strained scoff. “I do a lot of…stuff on there.”

Taehyung licks his lips. “I know.” he murmurs. “I was going to take that secret to the grave with me.”

Taehyung grasps the box - a medium sized black box - and makes his way towards his bed. 

You swallow, Taehyung’s words ringing through your mind. You grab your phone and begin to notify your subscribers of your live cameshow in the next five minutes.

“What made you tell me?” you ask Taehyung. He was halfway through lighting the candles when you finally decided to speak up. 

Taehyung glances at you. “You seem nervous.” he responds. “As if you’ve had second thoughts about this. Are you?”

Your palms feel sweaty and you bite your lip. 

You were nervous. You have been fucking yourself for so long that being with another man was different - and this wasn’t just another man, but an ex that was now a close friend. 

“No.” you tell Taehyung honestly. “I am nervous though.”

“Why?” Taehyung snorts. He’s now setting the candles around his room and it flickers beautifully. “It’s just me.”

“I know but…we haven’t done anything in so long.” you murmur, your nerves causing you to glance away from him. “...I wasn’t sure if you still…feel attractive towards me.”

Taehyung sets down the last candle and turns towards you. “And that’s why I told you that I subscribed.” he says - and that was his point. “I think we should go over some things before we start, yeah?”

You nod.

Taehyung makes his way around his room. He dims his light low so that the candles are illuminating the majority of it. He then makes his way past you and to the ring light, again, dimming it so there’s just enough light towards his bed for the viewers to see perfectly. 

“Now, is there anything you want to do specifically?”

“I should be asking you that.” you scoff. “This is your first time.”

Taehyung stands directly in front of you. His hand places below your chin and he gently lifts it so he has a good look in your eyes. 

“There’s a lot I want to do.” Taehyung says, voice dropping and it shocks you. The reaction shoots straight to your core. 

You inhale. “You’ve seen everything I do already.”

Taehyung chuckles. He cups your cheek, thumb rubbing along your lips. “That’s true,” he admits. “I’m an Ultimate member.”

Your eyes widen. “Tae!” you hiss, hot sensation running through your body. 

There were only a dozen Ultimate members - they paid the most and had complete access to you. They could message you personally through the phone (a second phone you acquired just for them). You allowed one on one time, acting out fantasies they desired. They got private videos and pictures that the others didn’t - sometimes it didn’t have to be sexual. 

“What?” Taehyung asks. “Too much?” The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.

“N-No.” you say, but it’s not convincing. “Ultimate is just…a lot of money monthly.”

Taehyung snorts. “I’ve been paying for it, haven’t I?” he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s okay. I like supporting you.”

You sigh, nodding your head slowly. Licking your lips, you giggle. “This feels like a fuck-a-fan event.”

Taehyung chuckles along with you. “How lucky I am.”

“So,” you begin. “what do you want to do? Have you ever requested content from me?”

You try to think of what Taehyung’s name would be since there were only a few Ultimate members. 

Taheyung shakes his head. “I haven’t.” But there were times he wanted to, but there was still the thought in the back of his head telling him that this was wrong - but it was never enough to get him to unsubscribe. 

“Then we’ll do what you want.” you smile at him, so cutely. So innocently.

Taehyung groans lowly. “I don’t think so.”

Your smile lowers. “Why not?” Taehyung scoffs - because there’s things he wanted to do to you that would probably scare you away. “I’m your friend, Y/N. But I’m still a man. I don’t want to expose you to my perverse mind.”

Taehyung drops his hand from your cheek.

“It’s a V-Day special.” you shrug. “I trust you. We’ve had sex-”

“Years ago.” Taehyung interrupts. “And that was casual sex. Nothing too perverted-”

“Do you want me to pee on you?” you snicker jokingly. You couldn’t think of anything too perverted and obscene that would have Taehyung hesitant. “I don’t think anything is as perverted as that.”

Taehyung licks his lips to stop himself from laughing at your words. “I’ll tell you what I want to do to you and you’ll just tell me if it’s okay or not.”

You nod your head. You realized, even after all this time, that you hadn’t taken off the coat. “Where do you want me to put this?” you ask, going to remove the long coat.

Taehyung swallows at your smooth skin in his view, the lingerie fitting the theme. It’s red and doesn’t hide much, the sheer lace showcasing your pierced nipples. It’s crotchless, he notes, and perfect - he doesn’t want you out of the lingerie just yet.

“I’ll take it.” Taehyung murmurs, grasping your coat and taking it towards his closet to hang it up. He needs a moment to breathe - there’s a twitch in his sweats that he has to calm down. “Okay.”

“Okay.” you nod your head, waiting for him to continue. 

“Champagne?”

You scoff in disbelief once more. “Tae…”

“V-Day special, Y/N.” Taehyung walks on the other side of his bed towards his bedside table. How you hadn’t noticed the bottle of champagne with two glasses is beyond you. He manages to pop it open, not caring if a bit spilled, and poured one for you and him. 

You grasp the champagne and smile, clicking your glass with his and take a sip.

“I want to lick the champagne off your skin.” Taehyung says, testing the waters - it isn’t something he actually thought about doing, but he wanted to test your reaction.

You choke slightly at his sudden words, but you nod. “Sure.” you swallow. “Anything else?”

Taehyung tilts his head. “...Overstimulation?”

You nod your head slowly. “I’m sure we can do that.” you agree. “Can I request one?” “Of course.”

“I want you to hit me.”

Taehyung stiffens. “Excuse me?”

You laugh. “Well, don’t knock me out.” you exclaim. “But slapping me is what I want. As long as I’m in the mood, a little pain shouldn’t hurt.” Taehyung has such pretty and large hands that you couldn’t not take the opportunity.

Taehyung swallows but nods. “I want to have control.”

“Want me to call you Sir?” you smirk. “Yes, sir. I like that.”

“You’re enjoying this more than I thought you would.” Taehyung hums, satisfied that he hasn’t had you running yet. “I think we should have a safeword. I don’t want to get too caught up in it and hurt you.”

“Oh,” you knit your brows. “You’re one of those.”

Taehyung raises a brow. “One of what?” 

“A dom.” you shrug. “Not that surprising. But okay, we can have a safeword. How about…” you rack your brain for something - anything. “...red squirrel?”

Taehyung blinks. “Red squirrel it is.”

“And if I can’t speak, I’ll shake my head aggressively.”

“Aggressive head shaking.” Taehyung nods. “I have a toy in that box I’d like to use on you.”

Your eyes fall to the medium sized box from early and you raise your brows.

“It’s only a vibrator.” Taehyung’s cheeks tint. “It’s um…actually from your wishlist.”

Your eyes widen once more. Taehyung was an Ultimate member and they also had access to your wishlist from various stores - even outside of sex. One member had gotten you an expensive water filter you wanted simply because you made him cum the hardest he’s had in months. 

“The rabbit one?!”

Taehyung nods. “Ugh,” you hang your head. “I love you so much.” you sigh dramatically, a tingly feeling coursing through your body at the thought of Taehyung using that on you. 

Taehyung gives a boxy grin. “A love confession already? I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Shut up.” you roll your eyes. “Anything else, sir?”

Taehyung licks his lips. “Just use your safeword if I do anything you don’t like.” he murmurs.

“Yes, sir.” you nod, smiling playfully. “I have to start now.”

You venture towards the laptop and make it towards the site. There were a few hundred people waiting already, the chatbox going crazy. “I told them I had a Valentine’s Day surprise.” you say to Taehyung. “They’re wondering what’s going to happen.”

You start the live, smiling into the camera as you read a few comments. “Hi, guys.” you say sweetly, your camgirl persona coming on.

Taehyung watches from afar as you speak to the viewers, walking backwards towards his bed. “I told you all I had a surprise.” your eyes glance to Taehyung. “I thought today we should switch things up,”

You watch from afar as the comments begin to rise as Taehyung enters the frame and you’ll make sure to go back to read them once everything is done. 

“I see you all are excited to see him.” you smile up at Taehyung. “He says he’s not shy to be seen.”

“Of course not.” Taehyung says, a soft grin on his lips. You know there’s girls that watch you, as well - they’d have to be excited to see Taehyung, if not see, then hear him. You release a breath. 

Taehyung lifts your chin and leans down to capture your lips. His fingers are gripping your chin now to get you in place, your lips moving along with his.

Taehyung breaks the kiss first, but proceeds to peck your lips a few times. You’re clenching around nothing, you note, anticipating for what's next to come. 

“I bet if I touch your pussy right now, you’ll be soaked.”

Taehyung catches you off guard, but you’re enjoying the switch. Your friends eyes are dark and filled with lust and you’re sure yours are, as well. 

“I am.” you widen your legs for him (and the camera) to see. 

Taehyung’s hand unclenches your chin to slide ever so slowly down your body. The crotchless lingerie made it easier for him to feel - and feel he did. It’s been so long, the both of you think.

Taehyung grunts at how wet you truly are, his long fingers rubbing along your clit.

“How long have you been this wet?” Taehyung questions, plopping his fingers inside his mouth to taste you.

You bite your lip at the sight, swallowing the moan in your throat. “For a while now.” you admit, especially since he mentioned the vibrator he’s bought for you. 

Taehyung dips onto the bed behind you. “Let’s show everyone how slutty you are.” he says, a swift hand wrapping around your neck to press yourself against his chest. “Not like they already don’t know.”

Taehyung’s free hand dips between your legs and slaps your thighs apart. He then proceeds to rub your clit aggressively, not bothering to prep you for anything  - after all, the safeword was there for a reason.

Your stomach churns and a loud yelp releases from your mouth. You’re sopping wet, squelching echoing around the room. 

“Does it feel good?” Taehyung questions - he knows it does. You’re moaning against him, legs widening with each rub of his fingers. 

You nod your head with a lip bite.

“Use your words.” Taehyung hisses, the hand gripping your neck slaps you suddenly, a throbbing pain against your cheek. 

“Y-Yes, sir.” you quip far too quickly, lust filling through you and shoot straight to your core. 

Taehyung likes the willingness in your actions to please him.

“Good girl.” Taehyung offers you a quick kiss to your forehead, his finger inching closer to your entrance. “You fuck yourself all the time…” Taehyung enters his fingers inside of you, long fingers reaching deep. “...and yet, you’re still so tight.”

Taehyung plunges his fingers inside of you, reaching farther than you ever thought imaginable. He was never like this prior and you pondered if he was truly holding back when you and he had sex. 

Regardless, you’re a moaning mess, no longer trying to hold anything back. Your eyes watch with satisfaction how deep his fingers are inside of you, the palm of his hand slapping against your clit aggressively as he strives to drive even deeper.

“Ah, there she is.” Taehyung chuckles darkly when his fingers hit a sweet spot that has your thighs quivering and moaning louder. “You know what I never see? You squirting. Let’s change that, baby.”

You aren’t sure you can squirt - you never felt like you had it in you. However, Taehyung did. He was determined, fingers hitting your spot aggressively, your clit being pleasuring with his palm as he does so for added pleasure. Your eyes begin to flutter close, your moans filling the room even louder.

“I know you can do it, baby. Let go.” Taehyung slaps your cheek again. He never knew you enjoyed being hit - something he wished he knew while the two of you dated.

And you do, juices spilling out rapidly and only when Taehyung removes his finger does it splash entirely onto the ground, so loud and messily that you stiffen in his grasp.

You were going to apologize, completely disregarding the live cam show you were on, but Taehyung silences you with his lips.

“Now let’s see how many times you can squirt for the viewers.” Taehyung speaks, removing himself from behind you to go towards the black box. He shows the camera him opening the box to reveal the vibrator. “Bought it new just for her.”

You lick your lips with anticipation as Taehyung steps closer to you. He turns it on, and the buzzing sound is so loud and aggressive - just what you wanted. 

Taehyung toys with you at first, pressing it against your thighs and slowly coming closer to you. “Look how slutty she is.” Taehyung turns towards the camera and laughs. “Clenching around nothing. She can’t wait to be stuffed.”

You make a disappointed sigh when Taehyung teasingly turns off the vibrator just as he presses it against your clit. He was such a tease that you’re positive your viewers would want him back.

“I want to hear you beg.” Taehyung’s demeanor changes entirely, the smile he sported now gone. “I allowed you to cum once already, beg for another.”

“Please let me cum.” You say, not up for any games Taehyung wanted to play. 

Taehyung snarls. Again, his hand is swift and a slap sounds across your face. You moan at the stinging feeling in your face.

“And here I thought you were a good girl.” Taehyung shakes his head. “But you’re nothing but a whore, right?”

“Yes, sir.” you squeak, lust filled eyes looking at Taehyung. “Please make me cum, Tae-.”

Another slap sounds on your cheek and you’re sure that you can cum just like this - the look upon Taehyung’s face and the dominance he’s instilling into you brings you great pleasure.

“S-Sir. Please make me cum, sir.” you beg. “I’ll be good.”

Taehyung hums. “Will you?”

You nod your head with wide, pleading eyes. 

“Let’s see.”

Taehyung doesn’t plan on ever giving you grace. He turns on the vibrator and it causes shockwaves to run through you. But, as if that wasn’t enough, he enters it inside of you, the rabbit ears pressed firmly against your clit as he thrusts.

Taehyung licks his lips, hooded eyes watching you closely. It’s as if the switch turned off and he was a whole different person and he’s experiencing this from outside his body.

Taehyung plunges the toy in and out of you, the vibrations sending shock waves through you. Your pussy’s glistening, the candle lights illuminating it to the camera perfectly.

“So wet and dirty.” Taehyung’s chuckles, but licks his lips. He wants to taste you, knowing you’d taste divine. “Right, baby?”

You nod your head, a moan bubbling out of you. “Yes, s-sir.”

Taehyung groans - such a submissive little thing. He couldn’t wait until he could fuck even more submission into you. Taehyung was a patient man, however.

Taehyung removes the toy from inside of you, cackling at the sight of your pussy clenching and unclenching. “You’re just begging to be stuffed baby.”

You’re panting at the loss of pleasure, back slightly arching. You bite your lip, eyes blinking rapidly as they meet Taehyung. You never wanted to mount someone as much as you did right now. 

“Thank you, sir.” you say, your eyes staring right into Taehyungs. Your voice is so soft and meek - so willing. Taehyung only smirks at you.

“You’re so full of shit, baby.” Taehyung says, placing the vibrating toy back inside of you. The rabbit ears press firmly against your clit.

“F-Fuuuuuck….” your legs widened for more, quivering with pleasure. Instead of Taehyung thrusting it in and out of you, he keeps it firmly inside of you, thrusting only deeper and deeper, the vibrations shuddering straight through your core.

“Such a pretty pussy you have, baby. So wet and filthy.” Taehyung’s voice only sends you more over the edge - his voice so deep and sultry. “All for me, right, baby?”

You nod your head frantically. “Yes, sir.”

“So obedient.”

Taehyung thrusts the toy in and out of  you, the vibrating rabbit ears hitting your clit with every thrust inside and he does it just to tease you. Taehyung moves to the side slightly, his eyes turning towards the camera with a satisfied smirk. “Such a pretty little whore. She pretends to be so sweet and loving…but deep down, she just wants to be dominated.”

Taehyung turns back to you, a boxy grin on his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes. No, his eyes were so dark and filled with lust. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” you nod, eyes breaking away from Taehyung’s intense ones.

Taehyung hovered above you, his mouth opening to spit directly onto your wet clit. 

You yelp loudly when your stomach stings, Taehyung having slapped you. He does so again and again and again - slapping your thighs, your breast to your face. Your skin is throbbing with the amount of times he struck you, but yet you cannot be upset. The pain feels good against your skin.

“My pretty little whore.”

Taehyung removes the toy from inside of you to slap it against your clit harshly, your juices flowing out of you so beautifully. 

Taehyung continues to tap the toy against your clit teasingly and now you’re twitching, eyes fluttering open and close.

“Please, sir…” you beg Taehyung, widening your legs even more. “Please let me cum.”

“Aww…” Taehyung’s free hand slaps your cheek again, the slap echoing in the large room. You moan deeply, and Taehyung only slaps you again. “...such a submissive little whore.”

“Please, sir.” you plead with him - to give you whatever. His slaps brought you great pleasure as the toy did. 

Taehyung grips your hair and yanks you forward, pressing you against him like before. “Look at the camera.” Taehyung hisses, his hand - so beautiful and large - slaps against your cheek before.

Your eyes look towards your laptop, the comments coming in fast. You’re unsure how many viewers you had, but you’re positive that they’re increasing as the stream goes on. 

Taehyung hooks his arm beneath your right thigh to keep you in place, your leg hiking up to your chest. “Let’s see how much the whore can cum.”

The toy vibrates so loud that your stomach churns with anticipation as Taehyung edges it closer to you. He doesn’t tease you any longer. He presses it firmly against your clit and then dips it inside of you. 

“Ah-” your moans are interrupted by Taehyung. He snatches your head, placing his large hand over your lips and nose. 

“No talking. Just focus on cumming, whore.” Taehyung hisses. “Look at the camera.”

Taehyung fucks the toy inside of you deeply, his hand on your lips never moving. Your eyes begin to blur, feeling the moisture of your tears coming. The toy is so deep inside of you, hitting your g-spot harshly. Your chest heaves for air, but Taehyung is adamant on not giving you any.

You don’t complain - as sick as it sounds. Anything you did for yourself during your cam shows could never compare to how Taehyung was doing it - you couldn’t wait to go back and watch it, glad that you decided to record this session.

Taehyung is hyper aware right now, even if he does appear to be far gone in his dominant act. He’s waiting for you to shake your head aggressively so he’d stop - but you never do. Your could no longer keep your eyes open and watch the camera as he fucks you - your eyelids are fluttering as he does so. Your toes are curling and he just knows you’re going to cum the hardest you’ve ever had.

Your moans are muffled - more like choked - down in your throat. Your chest heaves for oxygen, but all you can think about is the pleasure building up deep in your core, as does Taehyung. He removes the toy from inside of you just as you’re cumming, your juices spilling all over his bedsheets.

You inhale deeply when your lips and nose are released, the oxygen feeling like an added reward. Your heart is beating outside your chest so rapidly that you’re positive it was going to explode.

“Get on your knees. I’m not done with you just yet.”

Your break is short lived as Taehyung’s hand is already gripping your hair. He yanks you off of his bed entirely and you fall onto your knees. Your eyes stare up at him - so slutty and dumb looking, he thinks, and so beautifully submissive. 

You lick your lips as Taehyung’s free hand releases his cock - already erect just for you to suck. Your mouth opens to take him in, but Taehyung slaps you away.

“You whore,” Taehyung hisses. “I didn’t say you could suck it just yet.” he spits. 

“Please, sir. Please let me-”

Taehyung presses the tip of his cock inside your mouth. “Shut up.” he scoffs, thrusting himself against your wet tongue. “Look at how desperate she is for a cock. I guess those dildos you fuck yourself with just isn’t enough.”

You hum with satisfaction with having Taehyung’s cock inside of you. His grip in your hair is tighter and he keeps you in place. He goes deeper into your mouth, fully intending on fucking it - and you had every intentions of doing so. 

“So slutty.” Taehyung hisses - so slutty and good for him. You’re taking his cock fully now, allowing him to be as rough as he wants. He knows you could take him in your throat, he’s watched you throat-fuck yourself with countless dildos (as requested by a few members).

Your thighs clench together when Taehyung slaps you yet again and you open your mouth wider. Your vision is blurry once more, tears streaming down your face rapidly, but Taehyung doesn’t stop fucking you. No, your tears aren’t going to phase him and the only way he’d stop is if you gave him the signal.

But like before, you never do. Instead, you look up at Taehyung with those eyes - eyes filled with beautiful tears and lust. You wanted him to treat you like a whore off the street. You like the aggression - his cock in your throat, one hand in your hair to keep you in place while the other slaps your cheek harder and harder each time. 

“Where should I cum, whore?” Taehyung groans. “Your face? Or should I cum in your throat.”

Your response is muffled, never truly intending on responding to him. 

“Your throat?” Taehyung asks, slapping your cheek for a response.

You hum, nodding your head slightly. Your hand grasps his outer thigh to bring him closer to you.

Taehyung groans - such a whore you truly were.

“No,” Taehyung releases his cock from your mouth. You cough, saliva connecting from his cock to your lips. “I’m not cumming anywhere but in your pussy.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” is all you respond with - and it’s the response Taehyung expects.

Another slap sounds on your cheek. It throbs with the amount of times Taehyung has done so, but you don’t care. “Get on the bed.” he commands. “Ass up.”

You comply far too quickly, the thought of being stuffed by him has you wetter than you’ve ever imagined. You never knew Taehyung could be like this - sex while you two dated wasn’t like this. But then again, maybe he was scared that he’d scare you away.

Quite the opposite.

You yelp when your head is shoved into the mattress and your legs are forced apart. Taehyung is beyond you, his tip rubbing along your folds. “She’s so wet.” Taehyung tells the viewers, a slight shudder going through his body. “The type of wet you don’t pull out of.”

Taehyung enters you with one thrust that has you gasping. Taehyung breaks character for a moment, twitching and shuddering at being inside of you. You hear a low “fuck” from behind you that boosts your ego.

Taehyung doesn’t waste time, however, and he begins to fuck you with everything he had. Every frustration he’s dealt throughout the week with is evident in his thrusts. His eyes are focused on the way your ass bounces off of him, a creamy white ring around his cock.

“Feels…so good…” you gasp between words and thrusts, opening your legs even wider if it meant you could have more of Taehyung. 

“Yeah?” Taehyung scoffs smugly. He releases his grip on your hair to wrap it around your neck. He hoists you up from the bed. “Pussy still tight even after I fucked you with the toy.”

The semi-new position has Taehyung hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

“You’re clenching your pussy as if you don’t want me to stop.” Taehyung chuckles darkly.

“I don’t.” you admit - because damn could Taehyung fuck good. Was it always this good or was he truly holding back when the two of you dated?

Taehyung groans animalistically. A hand grasps your clit and begins to rub the sensitive bud between his large fingers. “I missed your pussy so much.”

There it was, the switch dimming. Taehyung’s voice is lower, as if speaking to you and you only - not the audience watching. 

“Missed your cock, too.” your head leans against him, a long whimper sliding through your lips. You were going to cum again if Taehyung didn’t stop his assault on your clit. “I love the way you fuck me, Tae.”

It’s clear now that you two were forgetting about the camera and the audience watching. It was becoming intimate, you choosing to use his name - but Taehyung didn’t care. The sound of his name coming from your sweet lips - so needily and filled with passion - has a shiver running up his spine. 

“Should’ve asked me sooner.” Taehyung grunts, his cock twitching inside of you. “Wouldn’ve fucked you so good.”

“I know.” you respond desperately. “You…can fuck me whenever you want…” you’re cumming. You try to stop Taehyung by grabbing his wrist, but he doesn’t allow you to. He continues to aggressively rub along your clit until your juices are flowing out once more - his sheets were going to be completely soaked, but he didn’t mind. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Taehyung pushes you back against the mattress, still deciding to torture you by rubbing your clit even harder. He thrusts so deep and sloppy, your words getting to him. “Gonna cum in you, baby. I always thought about getting you pregnant.”

You’re so fucked out of it that Taehyung’s words don’t faze you - you even recall the times he told you how he wanted a big family. The breeding kink he was clearly exhibiting was understandable; expected either.

Taehyung swallows, closing his eyes to imagine how you’d look with child - so round and glowing, breast enlarged with milk for the child. “Oh, fuck…” he gasps, cumming right inside of you - so much that it begins to flow out of you and down your thighs.

“You don’t have to pay me, Y/N.”

“But…the views tripled!” you try everything in your power to show Taehyung how much money you and he made for the cam show. “You’re the reason why.”

Hours had gone by and you remained at Taehyung's home. He had been the one to stop the stream - after several rounds - as you were exhausted.

“I’m not taking your money, Y/N. It’ll just go back to you anyways.”

You sigh, forgetting that Taehyung was an ultimate subscriber. 

“So,” Taehyung begins. “do we need to have the awkward conversation now or later?”

You closed your laptop and turned towards Taehyung fully. “What do you want to do?”

“What do you want to do?” Taehyung reverses the question back at you. He would be fine with whatever you chose - casual sex or the rough kind. Even if this was a one time thing, he would respect it. 

You glance away when you grow hot under his gaze.

“I want to do it again.” you murmur. “Even if it’s not for anyone else to see.”

Taehyung licks his lips. “I’d like that, too.” he says softly. “So…does that make us friends with benefits?”

You shrug your shoulders. You didn’t need to have a label on whatever you and Taehyung were doing. You cared for him just as he cared for you - and after he fucked you so good, there was no going back to just friends. 

Taehyung hums. “My little whore.” he says jokingly, just to get a rise out of you. He grasps your hand in his own and presses a single kiss on it. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #v smut #v x reader #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #explicit-tae #v-day special #valentine's day masterlist #trivia-yandere valentine's day masterlist #bts fwb #taehyung fwb

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Three: [V For Vendetta]

Summary: When your stomach can’t handle the Chemo medication, you empty the content of your stomach. While doing so, you and Jake come to a crossroads about your relationship going forward.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/SMUT 18+ content. Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4:5k

Author Note: EEEPPPP! It’s like watching a car wreck happen right before your very eyes. You want to but you can’t look away!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Shhh—I don’t want the kids to hear.” The palm of your hand came down softly on top of Jake's lips as you straddled his waist, you couldn't help but to rock your hips back and forth as the very tip of his hardened length kissed your cervix. Jake's entire length throbbed inside your sex at the slightly mean but even hotter act. “Stop being so loud, we aren’t in some navy issued apartment where you and your STD riddled conquests can be as loud as you wanna be.” 

As soon as the kids were in bed and sleeping, you and Jake were running back to your bedroom like giddy teenagers. You led him down the hall hand in hand and even before you had your bedroom door open, Jake had his hands all over you pushed up against the hallway wall that hung family photos. Including but not limited to a few of your wedding pictures. 

“Mmm.” Jake licked a long strip up the palm of your hand before he took control of the situation and flipped the two of you over. Now he was the one on top but his perfect view hadn’t changed, you were still the star of the show whether you were riding him or under him. 

“Ew! Jake, don't be disgusting!” 

“It was not even five minutes ago that I was down between your thighs using the same tongue I just liked your hand with to make you moan.” Jake teased as he leaned in to kiss the sweet spot on the junction of your next. Your back arched at the sensation of your ex’s slow but steady thrusts. The small but audible whimper that escaped your lips had Jake smiling against your skin. “You needy girl.” He’d missed you, missed your touch, your taste, your beautiful orgasmic sounds. 

“Some of us haven’t been whoring around—“ You sighed as Jake's hands roamed your exposed body, the feeling of roughed palms against your hips sent shivers down your spine. 

“No, no some of us just use their husbands credit card to buy new sex toys—“ What else was a girl supposed to do? You still had needs, needs that weren’t gonna be met with fingers alone. 

“Ex husband.” You felt the need to reiterate. Jake's thrusts sped up slightly, giving you a little more as your nails dug deeper into the muscles that littered his back. “Ahh fuck! and you left it here for me to use.” 

“Can those toys of yours make you feel this way?” Jake groaned as his thrusts began more intent filled, he was a man with a plan, an end goal—to get you off. “Use your words Honey, be a good girl for me.” 

It had been too long, far too long since you’d felt the touch of a man. Especially your man. The pad of Jake's thumb pressed softly into the bundle of exposed nerves that were perfectly swollen and throbbing just for him. He felt you tense at the overwhelming sensation, the feeling of utter euphoria mixed with the light hearted banter that was you and Jake. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, but not until you say please.” 

“I—“ It was getting harder to formulate sentences as the wave of impending pleasures rolled in, you were right on the cusp. “Jake I—“

“You want me to make you cum don’t you?” All you could do was nod desperately. “Ohh baby girl look at you all fucked out, so far gone.” 

“Please!” Jakes hand came down the press itself against your mouth as he fucked you into the mattress. His hips slammed against your with so much need and lust he swore the both of you would have matching wounds to lick in the morning, when regret set in the the haze cleared. 

“Shhh—that’s my girl, cum for me, we don’t want the kids hearing how much of a needy little thing you are for me.” Oh this mother fucker. 

“Ahhhh fuck fuck fuck I’m cu-coming!” It was barely a sentence but from behind his palm Jake could understand what you were saying. He watched as your eyes rolled and your body tensed and your velvet walls clamped down around him. “Jake!” 

“I’ve got you Honeybee, I’ve got you.” Jake groaned as he followed right behind you, his length twitch as the all too familiar sensation of that pool forming at the base of his shaft overwhelmed him. “I’m with you—ohhhh fuckk Y/n, yesss!” 

Jake landed right on top of you as he came down from his high, completely spent. His sweaty locks tickled your nose as you peppered kisses to the very top of his head. 

“We should shower.” You broke the silence that had filled your dimly lit bedroom. 

“Is that an invitation?” Jake queried as he lifted his head from your bare chest. 

“If you’re up for it.” You replied through a loving smirk. Jake couldn’t help but to capture your lips in a headed but loving kiss. He missed you so much. 

“Oh I’m up for it.” He cooed against your lips, just trying to savour every fleeting moment he knew this was. This moment of weakness. “I'm so up for it.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I wanna marry you.” You could still remember the words Jake spoke in the library the day you tried to break off whatever it was the two of you had become in college. It was early on in your blooming relationship, but you had your doubts. You had heard rumours he was no good, trouble if you will. That Jake was just this gloating self assured, arrogant guy who liked to throw a football around and take girls back to his dorm room to fuck and forget. 

“I wanna have kids with you.” You’d tried to let him down gently by telling him that it wasn't him, but you. And by all accounts the break up, if that's what you could even call it, went rather well. Until Jake Seresin showed up at your dorm rooms two days later after he’d practically stalked you around campus like some lost, love sick puppy you'd dumped in the rain. 

“I wanna build us a house, settle down, and grow old with you.” Jake's words were still there inside your mind as your eyelids flickered from the early morning light that threatened to consume your bedroom. The bedroom you shared with your ex husband last night.

“I wanna die when I'm one hundred and ten years old, in your arms.” Jake held you close and pressed up against his exposed chest as he slept soundly beside you. Strong arms encapsulated your torso as you woke, threatening to keep you hostage for the foreseeable future because if there was one thing about Jake you could never forget, it was his ability to press snooze over and over and over again until he had about five minutes to shit shower and shave. 

“I don't want this to just be a fling, I want a lifetime with you.” It was ironic really that you were remembering that moment as bile rose in the back of your throat because with your odds? You didn't have a lifetime to give him anymore. Regardless of your current separation. Your life was slipping through the metaphorical hands of time every day that passed.

“Oh god–” You couldn't stop it once the feeling started, the overwhelming urge to expel whatever reminisce remained in your stomach from dinner. You didn't have time to worry if you woke Jake up, you didn't have time to sneak out of his warm embrace, all you had time to do was rush to your ensuite and drop to your knees at your toilet before it was too late.  

“Y/n?” You heard Jake grumbled as he stirred at the sudden loss of your presence, he hadn’t slept so soundly in months. Having you tucked up against him still brought a solace that was unparalleled to anything Jake could ever dream of. “Honey? You alright?” All Jake was met with was the sound of violent coughing accompanied soon after by the gut wrenching sound of vomit hitting the porcelain bowl of your ensuite toilet. “Oh my god—“ 

Jake was up within seconds, the covers that barely covered his body were thrown to the side as he jumped out of your bed in just a pair of boxer briefs he’d thrown on after your sexcapades last night. They did very little to prevent your imagination from running wild with delight and lust as he came into your ensuite, you may have been feeling unwell but Jake had an adonis like body he wasn’t shy about.

“I’m fine—“ Was all you managed out before you were heaving again, your hands gripped either side of the toilet bowl like your life depended on it. 

“Here,” Jake cooed as he kneeled down behind you only to hold your hair with one hand so it wouldn’t get caught in the trajectory of your sick and rubbed small soothing circles against your back. “Maybe Lucy was right, you have been sick?” Jake couldn’t help but to frown as he watched you empty the content of your stomach into the toilet for another five minutes. Jake's mind wandered back to all the times he’d done the same thing as he was now when you were pregnant with the twins, with Sammy. 

“I’m fine—“ You sighed as you reached up to flush the toilet and wipe your mouth with some toilet paper. “Totally fine, I just—I don’t even know what it is, but I feel better now.” You couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough for your body's sudden urge to throw up. You knew exactly what it was through, the oral chemo. Those nasty little fuckers had you throwing up all day most days. “I’ll see a doctor when I get back, before the kids come home.” 

“Are you sure you still wanna go?” Jake asked as you sat back against the wall with him. “I mean, you could always come with us? Spend it with family, especially if you’re not feeling one hundred percent.” It was an enticing offer, especially since you weren’t actually going on a holiday, but rather into hospital for possible life saving surgery. 

“The trips paid for, I have to go.” You sighed miserably into Jake's shoulder as he comforted you. “Besides, I’m pretty sure your mums still holding a grudge against me for wanting to separate.”

“I’m still holding a grudge against you for that.” You reacted quickly to Jake’s witt and slapped his chest. “Ow!” He groaned playfully as you chuckled softly and shook your head. “I’m kidding, I'm kidding—“ Jake cooed as he watched you bring your knees up to your chest. “But can I ask you something?” 

“Depends on the question.” You mumbled as you pressed your forehead against Jake's shoulder. Still trying to find some comfort as lightheadedness threatened to consume you. 

Jake didn’t reply right away, he simply looked to his left a little and caught the sight of the pair of you sitting side by side on the bathroom floor. He’d spent so many nights trying to think of ways to fix things, to fix what he accidentally and unintentionally broke. But right now, after spending the night with you, being back with the kids he loved so dearly and remembering what it was he truly needed in order to be the man he wanted to be? Jake knew he needed to ask. 

“If there’s a guy—“

“Oh god Jake—“ You groaned at the idea. He was the one who’d slept with other people, not you. At least you had the decency to keep your nights out of sight. The only rumours Jake would have known were the ones he concocted on his own accord about your hips and thighs and your whispered sighs. Oh god you couldn’t even begin to imagine what his wildest dreams had been imagining about what you’d been up to during your separation. 

Because there were no other men. It was simply Jake. 

There had been far too many nights where you thought about jumping off of very tall somethings, just to see him come running and say the one thing you’d been wanting. But no. Jake never came, not since March when Coyote told you about Jake’s first air to air kill. The kill he still hadn’t told you about yet. 

“I need you to know that I’m trying here, to fix my mistakes.” 

“There’s nothing to fix Jake—“ You knew that this was a bad idea, that last night was a bad idea. That ever letting Jake believe there was any chance of reconciliation to be achieved in your marriage was a mistake. “We separated because our marriage wasn’t working, we’re no good together.” 

“That’s ass and you know it.” Jake replied rather sharply as you raised your head from his shoulder. “We were good together, we are good together, you just don’t wanna admit that this whole separation was a mistake because you still love me just as much as I love you.” 

“You just aren’t a good husband Jake!” The tone you chose to use had Jake shutting up rather quickly. Perhaps you were a little too harsh, but the hope you saw in his eyes was killing you. “I left because you didn’t love me enough to put me first.” You frowned as you tried to read Jake's facial expression. 

Surely this wasn’t a new revelation to him, he knew, right? He knew that although he loved you in his own way, Jake stopped putting you first when he figured out how high he could really climb in his career. Jake stopped putting you first when he saw his potential, his ability to be the best and nothing but. He stopped putting you first when Lenny and Lulu were born, and again when Sammy accidentally came along. He stopped putting you second and third and fourth until you weren’t ever the priority in any situation. 

“I need one more chance to show you how good of a husband I can be.” Jake nearly begged. “Just one—“

“You had ten whole years to get it right and you couldn’t do it, what makes you think one more chance is gonna miraculously solve the fact that you’re just not the type of person who should have a wife?” Part of you wanted to walk away till he really listened, you needed to be able to look into Jake's eyes and know that the two of you were feeling different. 

Jake Seresin had been told he was a lot of things. A bad friend, a good pilot, the family disappointment. He’d been told once by a supervising officer that if he didn’t have a family, maybe he’d fly less conservative, be better, take more risks. That same officer sent him to Miramar for the Dagger mission that same year when he heard through the grapevine of your separation. 

Jake had been told he was a catch, sex on legs, the life of the party and the guy any girl would be lucky to go home with. But he already had his girl, the meek library dweller who tried to break up with him in college. The woman who birthed his three children, his best friend, you. 

So the worst thing Jake Seresin had ever been told he was? Was that he was without a doubt a shitty husband. And the worst part about being told that was it came from you, the woman he loved, his wife. 

“So divorce me if I’m such a crap fucking husband Y/n!” Jake hissed. “It’s almost been an entire year and I don’t know where I stand with you?” He argued as you tried to fight off the urge to throw up again. “I can’t stay separated from you anymore, I can’t keep acting like the love of my life didn’t leave me, I can’t keep telling myself that you’ll come back, I can’t keep telling myself that you won’t find someone else who deserves you more than I do, I need you to tell me it’s over so I can move on!” 

“I—“ You wanted to blurt it out then and there as you tried to stand from the tiled bathroom floor. Jake, even in his fit or very understandable rage, reached out to help you. Even if he was a shitty husband he was still a pretty good friend. “I have—“ You wanted to tell him, tell Jake you were dying. Tell him that this time around it actually wasn’t him, but you. Hell maybe if you weren’t riddled with cancer you might even consider that one more chance he wanted so desperately. But as you stood to your feet and Jake stood to his, you saw the half packed suitcase of yours on the floor next to your bed. The suitcase you were taking to the hospital right after you watched Jake and your kids leave for the holidays. The Christmas holidays you were missing: 

Because you were fighting Cancer and Jake didn’t know. 

“I have to finish packing.” You sighed and settled with that. As you looked into Jake's eyes you could physically see the heartbreak mixing in with the emerald green. “Maybe we can organise divorce lawyers after the holidays, keep it civil, for the kids.” 

Jake remained silent as he just looked at you, his wife, telling him that yes, divorce was on the horizon after all. He just stood there in utter defeat knowing that what had become of your marriage was his own fault. You tried all you could for as long as you could before you had to let him go. 

“Just tell me his name at least.” Jake gritted his teeth. “When you find him.” You could tell Jake was holding back tears as he reached out to cup your cheek. “The guy who doesn’t fuck it up.”

“There’s not gonna be another guy.” You quietly replied as you leaned into Jake's touch. “I just need to put myself first for once and be happy with my own company.” Jake nodded like he understood but you knew deep down he didn’t believe you. The kiss he left on your forehead told you that.

“I’m gonna go get the kids up.” He explained as he cleaned his throat. “I’ll let you finish packing for your trip.” You let Jake turn on his heels and watched as he pulled those same grey sweatpants up his legs before you called his name quietly. 

“Jake?” 

“Yeah?” He replied sadly, like he had no fight left to give. There was an understanding between the two of you in that moment that this was truly the end, that whatever the two of you still were or were holding onto, that it had come to an end. 

“I’m sorry.” You pressed your lips together in an attempt not to cry, but Jakes saw your tears. He saw them looking in your lower lash line. 

“Me too.” Was all Jake replied before he left your room, leaving you alone with your own emotions and thoughts to try and calm yourself down knowing that whatever was to come would never hurt as much as officially losing the love of your life.  

***~***~***~***~***~

“Here you go baby, Jam toast.” For what’s it worth, you and Jake tried hard to keep things as normal as they could be for the kids, so when you finally made your way downstairs after showering and getting yourself ready, he was waiting with a coffee made for you like you didn’t just rip his heart from his chest and gutter stomp it into the carpet. 

“Hi mama.” Sam cooed as you walked over to where he sat on Jake’s lap being fed fingers of soggy jam toast. 

“Hi baby boy!” You smiled bright at your youngest and touched his nose with the tip of your finger. “Did you sleep okay? Are you so excited to go to grandmas today?” All little Sammy did was nod and eat his toast, Jake bounced him gently on his knee at the dining table, enjoying the moment with his son. “Where’s thing one and thing two?” You asked as you noticed the quiet lull that filled the kitchen and dining room. Lucy and Lennox were nowhere to be seen.

“They’re still getting ready.” Jake shrugged your concern off. He didn’t even bother to look at you as you took the coffee he’d made for you and took a sip. “Said they’d be down soon.” 

“Well we can’t let them mess around for too much longer, we need to get you guys off to the airport.” It was meant to be a simple statement, a conversation between adults about the appropriate time to arrive at the domestic terminal for Jake’s flight to Huston. But it wasn’t that. 

“Yeah—“ Jake rolled his eyes as Sammy asked for more soggy jam toast. “Like you said last night right, you just can’t wait to get me out of the house.” 

“Jake—don’t be this way.” You couldn’t say you were surprised that Jake had changed up his attitude so quickly, but you were a little shocked he was acting this way in front of Sam. Sure he was only two but it still felt wrong. 

“I’m not being a way.” Jake still didn’t look at you, he couldn’t. If he looked at you he was gonna lose his mind. 

“You’re acting like we’ve already signed divorce papers!” You hissed through gritted teeth and under your breath just in case your two other children came running down the stairs. 

“Well, I can't keep acting like you’re my wife now can I?” Jake could be petty if he wanted to, he once went four days without speaking to Phoenix purely because she said she reckons he can’t fuck for shit. Truth was he hadn’t had a fuck since January, truth was he took someone home that same night. Truth was he called out your name when he came and turns out Vanessa could throw a pretty hard punch. 

“Doesn’t mean you have to revert back to being Hangman, Hangman.” You mumbled under your breath but knew Jake heard you. You knew because for the first time since you came downstairs he finally looked at you. 

“What did you just call me?” Jake hissed as he stood up, he held Sam on his hip as he stepped towards you with a stern look on his face. “What the hell did you just call me?” 

“You, heard, me, want me to say it again?” You remembered the day your husband came home and told you he got his callsign. Some jerkoff by the name of Bradley Bradshaw had been assigned to be his wingman. Jake had given him his callsign, Rooster, because he thought the guy was full of chicken shit. 

But Bradley had landed Hangman after a particularly rough training session where Jake had left Bradley behind, in a real situation he would have died. And thus the Hangman was born. It was needless to say the two didn’t see eye to eye most of the time. 

“Kids!!” Jake shouted loud enough for you to jump as his voice echoed off the walls. He saw the look in your eye, the uncertainty of what the two of you were doing. So Jake stepped back, offered you a soft lipped silent apology and waited for you to silently tell you that you were good. “Get down here now! we’re leaving!” 

***~***~***~****~***~***

The airport was just as busy as it had been yesterday, only this time instead of waiting for Jake to join you and the kids, he was taking them with him, back to his mum's house for Christmas. 

You’d never spent Christmas away from your kids before so it was understandable that you were a little upset, but Jake saw the way your hands shook as you kneeled down before Lenny to fix his jumper. 

“You be so good for your dad, alright?” You cooed as you rubbed your nose against his. “And make sure you keep an eye on your sister and brother on the farm.”

“I wish you were coming with us mum.” Lucy added as she jumped on your back and clung to you with her arms around your shoulders. 

“I know baby I know, but I packed a few presents in your bags from me and dad and Santa will know where you are too.” Jake had an extra duffel full of all the toys your kids would be receiving this year, plus any extra they received from Jake’s side of the family. You knew Janeen and Rodney would go overboard as always. 

“Enjoy your holiday mum!” Lucy giggled in your ear as you hugged her arms. 

“I will baby I will, and I’ll miss you all so much!” 

“We better head off.” Jake hesitantly interrupted. He didn’t want to come across as if he was trying to hurry the goodbye along. Knew how important it was for you to say goodbye, even if he thought it was an unnecessary one. You should have been spending Christmas with them. 

“No—No you’re right, you guys better hurry along now or else you’ll miss your flight.” You tried to hide your sadness as you rose to your feet. “Bye my little guy.” You cooed to Sammy as he sucked his thumb and let his head rest against Jake's shoulder. “Seeya Daddio, take care of them will you?”

“Don’t stress, I’ve got them Honey.” Jake reminded you softly as he brought you in for your own goodbye. He had no idea how much that one act of kindness meant to you. The last touch of a man who would never know what you were about to go through and already going through. “Alright kiddos, let’s roll out!” He smiled as you let go and watched your family head further into the airport. Lucy was the only one who looked back at you to see you waving as they disappeared into the crowd. 

It was only when you lost sight of your little family did you finally allow yourself to break. With a hand over your mouth you sobbed quietly to yourself before you turned to head back to the car. 

“You’re on your own now.” In a 2009 research paper titled Gender disparity in the rate of partner abandonment in patients with serious medical illness, a study was conducted out of a pool of five hundred and fifteen married people suffering a vast array of serious medical illnesses. 

Out of those five hundred and fifteen participants, fifty three percent were female and the other forty seven percent were men. What researchers found over the course of this particular study was that the gender disparity when dealing with divorce was that twenty one percent of women diagnosed with chronic or serious illnesses were being divorced by their husbands, while men were only around the three percent mark. 

You were handed that pamphlet in the same doctor's appointment where you were told you had stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma. It was something oncologists had started adopting rather recently as those rates had risen rather rapidly since 2009. 

Good thing you had already separated from your husband prior to your diagnosis huh? 

“You’re all on your own.”

***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 91 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove ve @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun fan fiction #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin

[mikkomacko]

Him and I

Swiss Trip

Previous

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Reader, mob boss! Nico

Warnings: allusion to sex (no smut yet), language, a bit of fighting

A/n: sooo I have to make the Switzerland bit of this AU multiple parts because there’s a lot of drama and it really got away from me haha. Anyway, enjoy this cute piece of Nico and reader traveling to Switzerland!

~~~~

There’s not very many times you can say you’ve seen Nico nervous. He does immensely well under pressure, keeps a level head and a calm demeanor. He often even looks cocky, like he knows more than he lets on.

You love when he’s like that.

All glinting eyes and smirking, that lift in his chin and puff of his chest. He’s hot when he’s cocky.

But there’s something endearing about when he’s not. When his palm is sweating in yours and he keeps messing with his hair. Like he is now.

“Baby,” you giggle, reaching across the recently cleared dinner table for his hand. “You’re gonna give yourself bed head.”

Nico laces his fingers between yours, shaking his head before meeting your gaze.“I thought you liked my bed head?” The flicker of the candlelit table warms his already charming features, glows on his dimpled cheeks and dark eyes.

Squeezing his fingers, you nod. “I do, but you spent 20 minutes styling it before dinner.” His smile turns bashful and he shakes his head so his hair falls back into place.

“You gonna tell me why you’re so fidgety?” You question, tracing your thumb over his knuckles. Mischief twinkles in his eye, lips parting to speak far too quickly and you cut him off. “Don’t say you’re anxious to fuck me Hischier or you’ll get a cold shower tonight.”

Pouting, he slumps back into his seat. Gaze falling to the table in front of him, he scratches at a spot on the cloth with his free hand. You give him a moment, let him hide behind those thick eyelashes and loose pieces of hair in his face. After a beat he looks up at you.

“I want you to come to Switzerland with me,” he says, inhaling deeply to calm himself. “I want you to meet my family, to see my first home. And I know that’s a lot but I’ll take care of it all and I’ll take care of you-“

You reach for his other hand, interrupting him. “Of course I’ll go,” you agree, love swelling in your chest. “Why wouldn’t I? Switzerland Nico? I’ve never even left the coast!”

Your giddiness is palpable, already leaning forward in your seat like you’re about to crawl over the table to get closer to him. It makes him smile, that crooked adoring grin he gets when you’re happy.

“You really want to?” He questions shyly, releasing one of your hands to stand up and come around the two person table. You turn to face him, nodding eagerly as he kneels on the terrace in front of you.

Running your fingers through his hair, you scoff. “I’d love to Nico. I mean, Switzerland is what made you who you are. And I know you miss it, even if you won’t say it. “

You press a chaste kiss to his smiling lips. “I’d be honored to meet your family, as well.”

Shockingly, his smile flickers and he gets that deer-in-headlights look. Without saying a word, you raise an eyebrow and stare him down. It doesn’t take long for him to crack, not when it comes to you.

Guilty, he hunches forward and shrugs. “I- I still haven’t told my family about you, I mean my sister knows but…”

“Why?” You ask, a bite to your words. How could he not tell his family? He’s talked to you about them as if they know who you are. Years of a serious relationship that apparently haven’t been that serious if he couldn’t bother to tell those he loves.

Nico falters for a moment, gaze drifting around your face as he thinks and you’re about to stand up and walk away when he finally speaks.

“They’re mean,” he explains “not like treat you badly but they’ll-I wouldn’t have been able to protect you. If I so much had mentioned your name my father would have had a PI and an investigation on you within a day.

“And they come up with all these stories and reasons to not trust me or you, and they’d be wrong so I just kept you to myself.”

Nico has a terrible habit of speeding through his sentences when he’s scared or guilty. Luckily you’ve had a lot of time learning his quirks or that whole rant would’ve been lost on you.

And as much as it hurts you to know that you don’t have a place in his family’s lives, you understand why he did what he did.

“You could’ve told me,” you reply “instead of just letting me assume they knew of me every time you mentioned them.”

You think back to all the times he told a story of his siblings, how you laughed and always said you couldn’t wait to meet them. How he’d agree with that lovesick little smile on his face like they already loved you.

How misleading it all was.

“Nina knows,” he defends, “doesn’t that count for something? She’s my favorite anyway.”

Scoffing, you drop his hands and he scrambles up to his feet. “You said that about Luca two days ago Nico.” Pushing the chair back, you dodge him and stalk back towards the house.

His sneakers squeak as he chases after you. “Baby please,” he cries, grabbing at your hand but you just tug him along through the back door. “I just wanted to keep you happy and safe. That’s my job-“

Nico stumbles into your back when you abruptly stop in the hall, caught off guard by the sight in front of you. Beautiful sets of luggage are laid out in front of the staircase, slick and elegant. Jammed in the zipper of the duffle sits a little bright Swiss flag on a stick.

“Surprise?” Nico mumbles, hesitant and you tip toe closer to look at the gifts. Two luggage tags sit on top of the suitcase, shaped into matching baby blue Lego blocks. When you flip them over one is blank, but the other is filled in by the thin, slanted handwriting that belongs to Nico.

Y/n Y/l/n (Hischier)

If lost (suitcase or pretty girl) return to Nico Hischier

Under it all sits a little heart.

“I thought it was cute.” Nico says quietly, and you can feel him hovering close behind you. “I thought you could fill out mine.”

You hum, anger dissipating at the thoughtful gesture when you spot the passport holder sitting amongst the other things. Fingers the edges of it, you frown in confusion at how new and crisp the cover looks. Nico’s is beaten up which means this can’t be his.

Flicking it open, you’re met with your very own passport, the image matching the one on your drivers license. Spinning around, you hold it up to Nico.

“Did you get me a fake passport Hischier?”

Eyes wide, he shakes his head. “No, no, no!” He pushes closer to you, gently taking it from your hand and setting it back where it was. “I have connections, it’s real. I wanted to have everything done, that way we could just do the fun part of traveling.”

In the heat of your anger, of the thought that you weren’t important enough for his family, you completely overlooked Nico’s greatest quality. Everything he does is for others.

There’s not a selfish bone in his body. You’re not even sure he could be selfish if he tried. And while that doesn’t erase the fact that he omitted the truth from you, he did it with your feelings and happiness in mind.

“Nico,” you murmur, resolve melting. He takes that as his cue to reach out for you, taking ahold of your hips in those strong hands of his. “You make it impossible to be mad at you.”

A crooked smile sneaks up on his cheeks, puppy dog eyes still pouting at you but not as serious as they’d been before. “Don’t be mad at me,” he whispers, and you step between his feet. “Just love me.”

An amused grin takes over your lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, rising to your toes. “You know I do,” you reply, tilting your chin up as he leans in closer. Catching your lips in a kiss, you bury your fingers in his hair. Nico hums contently.

“You’ll still go?”

“Yeah but you gotta kiss me again first.”

~~~~

Nico checks his watch, counts the seconds hand as it slowly ticks around. He looks away, gazes out the window at the setting sun and frowns. Nothing entertaining out there. He kicks his foot up onto his knee, fiddles with the laces of his sneakers for a moment.

Dropping his foot back down, he looks over at Timo in his eye mask, snoring softly. His vision blurs with frustration and exhaustion, his bones feeling heavy in this stupid airplane seat.

“What’s wrong baby?” You interrupt, closing and setting your book on the table. Nico sighs, hunches forward and rests his head in his palms. A gentle hand finds his back, runs up and down his spine and shoulders.

Pathetically, Nico whines “I’m so tired.” Like an angry toddler he rubs at his eyes with his fists, sighs again before slumping back into his seat. You peel your hand out from behind him, pull the beanie off his head and start stroking through his hair.

“Scoot over,” you instruct, rising from your seat and he ignores your command in favor of just widening his legs for you. Not that you mind, sneaking over and settling into his lap.

He wraps you up in his arms, sighing contently as you hit the button to recline his seat. Nico’s been very vocal lately about his disdain for flying, whining to you every day about he can never sleep and the food is bad and the seats make his butt go numb, etc. It’s part of the reason why he invested in a private jet so long ago, not that it helps. He’s just grumpy in front of less people now.

But this is his first time flying with you and he never realized how much of impact you have in making him comfortable.

Curling into his side, you lay your head on his shoulder and he tucks his nose into your hair. You smell like his shampoo you’d borrowed in the shower this morning and laundry detergent.

Peering out the window at the darkening sky, Nico trails his fingertips in soothing circles on your hip. “Are you cold baby?” He asks when you shiver but you hum in disagreement.

“Did you pack warm enough clothes?”

He feels you giggle. “Yeah I did. And I can always steal from you.”

Nico smiles at that, feels his eyes getting heavy. He wants to sleep, knows he needs to before seeing his family again for the first time in years and this time with a surprise guest.

But he can’t quite get himself to succumb to that groggy feeling.

“Talk to me ‘bout something?” He mumbles and your hand slips under his sweater, seeking the warmth of his body. “Just for a few minutes?”

Humming in thought, you quietly begin to nitpick at him for god knows what. He manages to catch you whining about leaving Holtzy behind, a bit more ribbing about him keeping you a secret from his parents, but anything after that is lost on him. Because despite the complaining nature of your words, your tone is sweet and light.

It seeps into his chest, settles warmly in his heart and his head suddenly quiets enough for his eyes to slip shut, lulling him to sleep.

He wakes up a couple hours later to a dark jet, your warm nose plastered to his neck and a blanket draped over the two of you. Nico catches Timo’s eye across the aisle, his friend sending him a wink before going back to his movie.

Pulling the blanket further up your body, Nico closes his eyes again and just holds you.

~~~~

A large black SUV waits on the tarmac, an airline worker standing by the driver side door with a set of keys in hand. You smile politely at them, fighting off the grogginess as Nico guides you to the car.

A cold breeze bites at your face and neck, and you tighten the blanket wrapped around you. Timo greets the worker in Swiss German, the language still lost on you despite how hard you’ve tried to get Timo to teach you and hearing the words fall so fluently from him makes you pout.

Nico must see it on your face because he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “You’ll get it on day my love,” he promises, pulling open the door. You hum in acknowledgment, letting him take the blanket from you so you can hop in and buckle up.

He waits for you to adjust everything and place your stuff by your feet before laying the blanket back over your lap. You laugh when he tucks it in under your thighs and around your back, nudging his nose into your smiling cheek.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, smoothing your nap-mussed hair down. You nod and he shuts the door, immediately greeting the worker himself with a handshake and a nod. Timo has begun taking the luggage from the plane and loading it in the back, silently working as you watch your boyfriend through the tinted windows.

You can tell by how quickly he speaks that’s he’s using his native tongue, and it both annoys you and turns you on so you settle back into your seat, staring at the dark headrest of the seat in front of you.

The colors blur together, your brain falling into that sluggishness from sleeping on the flight, and you don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep again until Nico is climbing into the backseat with you.

“Oh sorry,” he winces when your eyes shoot open but you shrug it off, curling into his body when he settles in the middle seat. His legs are too long to be sitting there so he sprawls out on your side of the car. “Go back to sleep baby, we don’t have to see anyone until the morning.”

You don’t need to be told twice, especially not when Timo puts the car in drive and pulls out of the tarmac. With the rumble of the vehicle, Nico’s body pressed close to yours, and the heat of the sweat warmer on your back, you’re out before either boy can say another word.

~~~~

When Nico said morning, he meant lunchtime. Not that you knew that until his naked body was disappearing into the bathroom and you finally dug your phone out from under the pillow.

It was a little past 12 and your heart jumped into your throat at the sight.

“Oh my god, Nico!” You shouted, sitting up and clutching the bed sheets to your chest because the room was so chilly.

Urgent, Nico sticks his head out of the bathroom. “What? What’s wrong?”

Scoffing, you throw your phone onto the mattress. “You let me sleep too late! It’s already noon!”

He huffs, shaking his head at you in disbelief and sauntering back into the room. Unashamedly, you watch him make his way to his suitcase and dig out a pair of boxers. You don’t meet his gaze until he’s slipped the clothes on and the beloved sight of his butt is gone.

Nico is smirking when he finally has your attention back on his face. You raise a challenging eyebrow, waiting for him to finally respond to your complaints.

Not that he does. Instead he crawls back up the mattress to you, nudging you back into the pillows until he’s caging you into the mattress. With that shit eating grin still on his lips, he leans in to kiss you.

Dodging him, you turn your head so his lips fall on your cheek. “You didn’t answer me.”

He snickers. “Didn’t know it was a question.”

“You haven’t brushed your teeth.”

His breath is warm on your skin, nose brushing your cheek. Thick fingers grip onto your chin and he turns your head to face him.

“Didn’t seem to bother you when I was fucking you five minutes ago.” He retorts, and you giggle at the reminder. Before you can answer he’s kissing you, all soft and lazy like he’s got honey on his tongue.

After a moment you pull away from him, pushing the strand of hair that tickled your forehead behind his ear. “Promise they won’t be mad that it’s so late?”

He frowns. “Who?”

“Your family,” you murmur, rolling your eyes and he pinches your jaw at the action. “Ow,” you whine, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into the skin.

A hiss leaves his lips, and he loosens his fingers enough for you to tug his hand away from you. “Stop,” he grumbles, “and no they don’t care.”

“Don’t tell me to stop,” you snip, lightly shoving at his chest “you stop.”

He sits up onto his knees, frowning down at you with those stupid dark eyes of his. “You’re mean when you travel,” he comments.

“No I’m mean when you hurt me.” You argue, glaring at him. He silent for a moment, watching you but you don’t concede. That mob boss power look doesn’t work on you.

He sighs, blinking slowly. “Sorry, shouldn’t have pinched you like that.”

Annoyance melting away, you give him sad eyes and pout. “I was just asking a question,” you mumble “I’m nervous.”

Everything about him softens; the tick of his jaw, the hard look in his eyes, the pull in his shoulders. “Why in the world are you nervous?” He murmurs, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “You are my everything baby, and they’ll see that. They’ll see you, and there’s no need to be nervous about something that special.”

The tears that well up in your eyes are unstoppable, they sneak up and blur your vision to the point that you have to shut your eyes. But that just causes the tears to roll down your cheeks.

Embarrassed you try to curl into yourself. It’s impossible with Nico’s large body on yours, especially when he leans over and coos at you before wiping them away.

“Eeesh what’s happening? Why are you crying?”

You wipe at your own eyes, laughing at how flustered he sounds and shake your head. “I don’t know!”

Meeting his gaze, you blush at the bewildered yet adoring gleam in his eyes. “Let’s get some food in ya before you get hysterical,” he instructs, slipping off the bed and holding his hand out for you.

“Clothes first,” you reply, letting him pull you up. The floor is cold on your bare feet and you leap onto his sock covered ones without caring whether it hurts him or not.

Nico stumbles, takes ahold of your waist to keep you from falling. “The heater’s on you big baby,” he grumbles, swiftly tossing you back onto the bed.

“Stop throwing me around I’m naked!” You complain, kicking at the tangled duvet. He just snickers, walking over to your suitcase.

“Tell me what you want to wear.”

Right, it’s time to meet the parents.

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #mob boss au #mob boss Nico hischier #mob boss! Nico #new jersey devils #nhl #nico hischier fanfic

[hanasnx]

ok so imagine work dad hayden finds out ur very inexperienced with sex and he teaches you how to give head? HHHDDGGS I NEED HIM

MINORS DNI 18+

“I’m not so sure I’m…” HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN attempts to deter you. Sex is one thing, but oral is another. Sure, he’s gone down on you, but that’s different. The prospect of giving himself to you in such a vulnerable state is intimidating, not to mention you’re already in a vulnerable position yourself on your knees. There’s a lot that could go wrong, a lot that he has to consider. What if it goes too far? He doesn’t want one of your first experiences with head to go wrong.

“Oh, please, Hayden?” you plea, clutching onto his large hands to bring them to your chin. A dazzling grin adorns your features, meant to manipulate him. “I promise I want it.”

He’s still not sure if it’s the right time. “It’s… complicated.” Not the act itself, but what it means. You’re already leading him to the couch in his trailer.

“You can help me! I love being guided.” you insist, beaming with enthusiasm to assure him. Gently, you sit him down, lowering to stand on your knees. Your hands slide from his, down his abdomen, over his belt, to his thighs. “It’ll be fun. I’m sure of it.” It’s not like he’s received this in a while, and he has no idea the extent of your porn history, but he concedes with an invitational nod and gesture. Giddy, you lean in, pressing your middle to his crotch as you incline him in your direction, pecking his lips as a reward. He sharply exhales. The pressure against him having gotten to him after a long conversation about his dick in your mouth. Eagerly, your fingers seize his belt, the familiar sound of its unbuckling sending heat straight to your core. But Hayden’s nervousness gets the better of him, catching your hands to firmly mold his over yours.

“Slower.” a soft order that’s bashfully heeded, nodding to him as your chew your bottom lip to calm yourself. You can see how he might be apprehensive towards your rather offensive attack of an area so sacred. Enthusiasm will have a place later when he’s more comfortable with you. “That’s it.” he commends you as you adjust his pants, and when you hook your fingers in the overlapping waistbands, he raises his hips for you so you can shimmy them down just enough.

It doesn’t take long before he’s relaxed into his seat, sunken into the cushions as the back of his head rests against it. “You’re sure you haven’t done this before?” he asks, breathless from your ministrations. His low voice sends chills down your spine while your tongue swirls around his swollen tip. Velvety soft, it reminds you of the texture of jello. Gelatinous and chewable. But you obviously don’t do a thing like that, you know to keep your teeth out of it. It’s been a few minutes, but you’ve allowed his hand to cup the back of your head. It’s cautious, and grateful. There to let you know he likes it, while not pulling you into it. Unused to length in your mouth, you don’t suck further past the head, so as to not irritate your gag reflex. “Let me feel that tongue, baby,” His grip on your clutches tighter, and you hum, vibrating him in your mouth as you swipe the flat of your tongue side to side. You’ve noted how he loves the vein on the underbelly of his shaft to be pet. Rewarding you for your obedience, a low moan spills from deep in his throat, unconsciously lifting his hips to chase the feeling.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and back up as he comes forward, but his hand on your scalp accidentally arrests you. A squeak emits from you. Now realizing what he’d done, he picks his head up and scoots back to his original position on the seat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, princess, I forgot. I’ll sit still. I didn’t meant to—“ Apologetically, his palm strokes down your hair. “You just…” he exhales, “you’re so good at this.”

#indy: drabbles #ch: work dad!hayden #hayden christensen drabble #indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!! #anon #hayden christensen prompt #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x fem reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen fanfiction #reader insert

[alien-magnolia]

Spoiled

Dom!codedJoel Miller x sub!coded fem reader

Fic description/ idea: Hyperfem!reader goes on a date with Joel, inviting him over for dinner, and a movie, on an early October evening. She’s a bit too feminine, childish, and very, very shy! That makes Joel want her even more <3

18+ mdni! protective Joel miller, hyperfeminine fem! innocent!reader, daddy!kink, breeding kink, corruption / innocence kink, bimbo/dumb!kink, praise/degradation! kink, bj, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) lil bit of service kink too

Wc: 3.7k. If you like this post, pls help a writer out and reblog :)

Part two: spoiled

October 7, 2001. 6:55 PM

“Shit, shit… you thought to yourself. He was almost here. A sharp knock on the door. Seven o’clock sharp, like he said. You hastily make your last adjustments in the mirror. Your white acrylic nails brush down your light pink skirt, a white little tank with hearts on top. 

You dressed as if you were a child, and sometimes had no common sense. You loved stuffed animals and the color pink. Everyone has always told you that you were way too giddy, innocent. You wore bows in your hair sometimes. Nobody ever saw you without some sparkling jewelry — gold, usually. The man you were going on a date with? A contractor. 

 A construction worker, who spent all day in the dirt, working. Physical work — something that you were just not strong enough for. You scoff as you imagine your dainty hands doing such work. A bottle of Dior perfume, some heart shaped earrings, a necklace. White sneakers, a pink cardigan to match. 

Joel was your first date, well — ever.

Before him, you haven’t gone out with any man whatsoever. It’s been a few weeks since you first met him, and the two of you have been on a few dates outside so far. You loved walking down the street with him, his big strides besides your little ones, his large hand always on the small of your back, guiding you. You felt so nice, so safe.

You skip over to the door, worried that he might be mad at you for making him wait. You open it. His eyes quickly dart over to you. “Hey, sweetie. What took ya so long?,” he asks, his gaze making you a little weak in your knees. You lean against the doorway, just in case. “Umm…,” you start off.

“I'm just messin’ w ya. Can I?” You nod, and move aside so he can step in. Tonight, your date was just going to be at your home. You even ordered some dinner beforehand. Your nervousness makes your hands shake as you try to close the door behind you. He comes up behind, his hands over yours. “Let me help, yeah?” You nod, blushing a bit. His hands were just so much bigger than yours!

“Hey. I, um, made us dinner. Well, ordered some. I can set it up, just sit down anywhere,” you babble at him. He nods, sitting at the counter. You set up a few plates and some food in front of him, even folding a napkin for him before placing it in front of the plate. He chuckles to himself as he watches you frantically search for a glass. You set it down in front of him.

“Something to drink, Mr. Miller?,” you ask, glancing down at your shoes. You were just too nervous!! “Some beer would be nice,” he says with a half smile. He thought you were god damn adorable, unbeknownst to you, of course. You grab a beer from the fridge, your small hands twisting around the cap, trying to open it.

“Lemme have it. Thanks, sugar,” his brown eyes concentrate on opening the beer, something that came so easily to him, his biceps flexing as he opened it.

You try to get onto the tall stool that you had for your island. You loved how modern they looked, and they fit the elegance of your kitchen. Only thing — you were too short for it. You struggle a bit to lift yourself up onto the chair. “Let me,” he says as he gently helps you up, his calloused hands running over the plush of your hips for a bit. He smelled like Old Spice and sawdust. Actually, there was some on his hands, now on your skirt as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller. Or, um — I can call you Joel, right?,” you sheepishly ask him as he walks back to where he was sat before. “Of course, hon.’ Joel’s fine. That mister stuff is too formal anyways. We’ve been on a few dates anyway.” You giggle at his southern drawl, slow, like molasses. “Just bein’ honest,” he shrugs in defense as he sees you try and hide your laughter. “I’m just really having a good time,” you reassure him, and he smiles at you again. God — his smile just made you melt!

You clean the table and wash the dishes after him, as he sits manspread on the couch, head tilted, watching you. Unbeknownst to you, he loved it when a woman cared for him like you did. After you finish cleaning after him, (he did offer to help but you insisted —) he asked you to join him on the couch.

“C’mere, sweetheart. How about a movie, yeah?” You nod and scamper over to him. “Ya into horror? I brought some DVD’s. My daughter and I watch this stuff all the time. Figured you’d like it,” he explains, patiently waiting for you to respond. You were absolutely terrified of horror movies, yet you figured you wouldn’t want to disappoint him. You agree, and he shows you this DVD case with a glowing pumpkin and knife, titled “Halloween.” He explained to you that it was from the 1970’s, as he got the movie set up.

The opening credits began to roll, you snuggled a bit closer to him. He was a bit sweaty, but you did not mind, he was probably just exhausted from work. “Sorry if I smell, hun. We had a tough job today. Came straight here after I was done.” “It’s okay! Must be hard to build stuff,” you say in an attempt to relate. “Well, technically, contractors don’t always build. They plan too, sugar,” he explains with a bit of a chuckle.

“Oh…,” you trail off. Fuck, you felt stupid. You didn’t know much about many things. Some said that you lived under a rock. You sheepishly blush as he leans over to give your cheek a little peck as he starts the movie. “S’okay, hun. I get it,” he chuckles.

At first the movie didn’t seem too horrible — it was just a nice showcase of a teen’s mid afternoon in late fall. However, you started to hide behind your hands, grabbing the nearest pillow, whimpering a bit even when the killer came on screen! Joel noticed you were starting to get a little uncomfortable, your pink nails fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

“Scared?,” he asked nonchalantly. “Um. A bit,” you confess, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment. “Don’t be. Jus’ a movie, hun. C’mere,” his hairy arm stretched out to you, draping over your shoulders (and hip!) as you leaned into him. You place your head on his shoulder, you feel his prickly beard on your forehead.

As the girl on the screen continued to be stalked by the silent killer, from across the street, from her school, her commute home…you slowly slinked down the couch, until your head was basically next to the pillow Joel was leaning against.

The girl on screen was now watching tv under her soft throw blanket, the camera drifting to the backyard, where the sharp chill of the October air lurks, alongside the killer, now behind a tree. You close your eyes, covering them with your hands. You peek at the movie, seeing the killer lure the girl into the backyard. He strikes!!

You watch in horror as the killer puts his large knife into the screaming woman. Tears well up in your eyes, and your vision gets blurry! You begin to sniffle, this movie was just so, so, frightening!

Joel, entranced by the movie, looks down to see you sniffling, trying to wipe away the tears with your sweater. He reaches over for the remote to pause it. “Hey. What’s wrong, huh?,” he asks, voice soft, gentle, as if not to spook you.

“It’s a little scary. What if he comes after me??,” you ask him, voice breaking with a few sobs in between. “I’ll turn it off then. Should’ve told me ya didn’t like movies like this, darlin.’ I wouldn’t have watched it with ya,” he almost reprimands you, just like a dad would to his little girl. You sniffle some more, your doe eyes looking up at him.

He couldn’t let you know, of course, that your tears and cute little frown were making him hard as a rock. Well — not yet, at least.

He gently pulls you onto his lap, his calloused hands the size of your knee, easily wrapping around your thighs. This soothed you a bit, as well as igniting an ache in you — an ache that you rarely had.

“Was just a bit scary. But, I wanted to watch it to make you happy, Joel,” you tell him, a bit ashamed of yourself. “You already make me happy, sugar. Just by bein’ here with me. I’ll turn this off, yeah?”

You nod, clinging to him still as he turns off the tv. You smile at him, grateful that he has made you feel better. “Sorry if it scared ya. You probably don’t know much about things, but that’s okay,” he apologizes, his face getting closer a bit. “Is it ok if I kiss ya? You don’t have to say yes,” he reassures.

You giggle a bit. “I’d, um — actually like to. Cause I like you, you know?,” you shyly ask him, expecting a reaffirmation,validation, of your feelings for him.

“I’m glad,” he whispers, wiping some tears from your face. His large hand on your cheek guides your face closer to him, his soft lips meeting yours for a kiss. You felt his prickly beard on your soft cheeks, he tasted faintly of mint, some of the sawdust still stuck to his fingers rubbed off on your cheek.

His kisses got more aggressive, and there you felt that itch again! What was it?? He pulls away for a sec. “You still doing okay, sweetie? You wanna take this a bit further?,” he asks. You think. You were not sure. You never went further with anyone, ever.

“I do, here’s the thing, I — um, never did any of that stuff before. I hope it does not hurt…,” you trail off. He chuckles at your innocence. God — he was going to ruin you. In the best way possible.

“We’ll take it slow, yeah, kid? Your outfits n’ all, your hair, these cute lil’ things,” he points at the pink butterfly clip in your hair. “It just makes you look so goddamn adorable. Wanted ya for a while, hun.”

The heavy blush spread across your cheeks is paralyzing. You’re paralyzed. He’s so close, his veiny hand on your thigh, his stubble, his smooth Texan voice…fuck it. You wanted him. You wanted to go all the way.

“Okay, Joel. Let’s do it. You’ll show me, right?,” you ask, voice shakier than ever. Only his presence had your heart rate skyrocketing. “Yeah, sugar. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he says softly.

His hands grip your thighs tightly, squeezing. You sighed from his sheer strength, his calloused hands and thick fingers caressed your soft and smooth thighs. Your little manicured hands found his face, and then draped around his neck, his thick arms (with a large vein running down each of them, and plenty of hair <3 ) sliding up to hold you by your hips. You grind a bit up onto him, the soft plush of your thighs on his waist, so big, so wide compared to you. His lips keep in a dance with yours, soft, slow, warm. You were losing your breath kissing him, and yet you loved feeling his stubble graze your chin, over and over again, while he periodically let out a deep moan. You keep grinding into him, stopping all of a sudden once you feel his hardness beneath those cargo pants covered in remnants of asphalt and dirt.

“Did I do that?,” you ask, innocently. He lets out a soft chuckle. “See, hun?

His hands knead at your soft, plush, hips, slowly grinding you onto his already semi-hard cock. The tip touched your lips, and although both of you were still clothed, you tried your best to suppress a moan. You failed. Seems like he failed, too.

“Wanna help me undress, sweetie?,” he asks you, breath heavy just like yours, your lips felt cold without his. You nod silently. He brings a hand to your cheek to pinch it a bit, smiling. “What a good girl you are, hun. Get on your knees f’me.”

You do as said, sitting on your knees in front of him, his legs manspread. “Help me take off my belt, yeah?,” he asks, eyes meeting yours for assurance. You nod, you were ready. Your tiny hands find his brown, leather belt, struggling a bit to pull it off. Once the belt is loose, you wait for your next instruction. “Unzip. Go ‘head. I don’t bite,” he chuckles. “Not yet at least…,” he murmurs in a low tone.

Your face is hot, red and hot as you unzip his jeans, sliding them down, revealing his strong, hairy thighs, his toned lower legs, and most importantly — some gray boxers, sporting a noticeable tent.

Your eyes focus only on the tent. You swore you saw some pre-cum on those boxers. Fuck. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes. “What’s next, Joel?,” you ask, voice sickeningly sweet.

“Why don’t ya take off my underwear.” You do as said, his already hard cock springs out at you, the tip red, angry, leaking!! His cock had a large vein running down the right side, with some awfully plump <3 balls to match. You didn’t notice that you were drooling until Joel caught you.

“Drooling, huh baby? S’okay. I know I’m a lot to take in, kid,” he patronized you, as his big hand grabbed your face again, leading you closer to his cock. “Can use your mouth and hands, okay, kid? Don’t be afraid.” With that, his hand brings your face even closer to his cock. “Open wide,” he chuckles, and you do as said, tongue sticking out. With both his hands still on your face, he slides his cock in your mouth.

The tip feels heavy against your tongue, and drool covers the rest of his cock that is outside your mouth. You begin to gently suck, one hand at the base of his cock, the other fondling his balls. God — you started to hear the sound of those hearty moans coming from him, his big chest heaving, his shirt already off. He had so much chest hair!!!

His hands ran through your hair as you suckled on his throbbing cock. “Fuck. Mmm, that’s, that’s my good girl. My good little girl, pleasing me like this,” he moaned out, and you swore you felt yourself get wet. That was new to you.

His cock slides out of your mouth with a little pop. “‘Nough about me, sweetie. Why don’t you come sit on my lap? Take off that pretty pink skirt of yours, yeah?,” he asks, his smile predatory. He helps you off your knees, and pulls you into his lap, his hard cock now pressed directly against your lips.

“This okay?,” he asks, checking in. You nod, grinding your hips against him instinctively. He chuckles at your neediness. “Someone’s needy, huh? Does my little girl need daddy’s cock…,” he patronizes as he brings you in for a few kisses. “Daddy…,” you repeat back to him. That name fitted him, you thought. He was strong, caring, and most of all, took care of you and ALL your needs! <3

“Need it…,” you moan out, pausing for a bit, before adding a soft “daddy,” whispering it in his ear. He almost growls at you, hands bringing you closer to his dick, while he pulled off your skirt, revealing your pretty pink lace thong in view.

“Fuck. What I wouldn’t do to cum on this pretty lil’ thing of yours, sweetie. Y’know what, keep ‘em on,” he instructs you. You nod your head giddily, excited to finally take his cock.

After adjusting you and himself, his thick fingers trail gently over your lower abdomen, sliding in between your lips, massaging your lips and clit slowly, gently. He unclasps your bra, his large hands holding your tits, kneading them. You feel yourself losing your balance. He takes his fingers out, with a squelch <3

“Ah.. Joel!!,” you squeal out. “Already too much for my girl? Look at you, so wet f’me. You think that pretty pussy can take me?,” he questioned you.

“Yes! Yes, I promise. Please,” you beg him, as he tuts, almost not believing you. “Yes, what, sugar?” “Yes, daddy,” you obediently replied. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, pinching your cheek again with his strong fingers. With that, you feel the throbbing, hot tip slide into you. You already squeezed around his cock, so tightly, just wanting to be filled to the brim.

He groans loudly — “fuck. Pulling me in, sweet girl. Can I go deeper? How slow do ya want me?,” he asks you, still concerned since this was your first time.

“Want you in deep, daddy. Please, deep, and fast!!,” you cry out. “Alright hun. Grab onto daddy’s shoulders,” he instructs you, as he helps you move closer onto him, your hands moving to grip at the back of his wide back and neck, for support.

You feel him push into you, pulsing. He was in, halfway, and you already felt so full!! “Doing okay? Look at you, sweet girl taking my cock so well. Doing so good for me, sugar,” he moans out as he stills inside of you.

He had to be gentle, of course. He was sure there were going to be moments where his cock just simply bullied your pussy, but — now was not the time. It was your first time, after all. He was so glad to be the one to corrupt you. To give you your first, addicting, taste of cock. A taste you would never stop chasing.

“Gonna go all the way in now. Hold on, ‘kay?,” he reassures you. You nod, as he pushes into you all the way, in one big motion. His tip was reaching your cervix, brushing against that sweet spot perfectly!! He was that itch that you finally got to scratch.

He asks you how it feels. You tell him that you love every minute of it. With the help of his hands, he guided you up and down on his shaft, the sound of his soft, swollen balls hitting your lips was heard throughout the room. “J-Joel. F-faster. P-p-please.” Even with his cock pumping into you slowly, you were still almost at a loss for words.

“Look at you, using your manners f’me, sweetie. Doing good,” he patronizes you, it made you feel so needy, so dumb, just a cock hungry little thing all ready for him!!

He started bouncing you on his cock, faster, deeper, his balls now hit your lips!! All the while, his Texan voice just taunted and taunted you. “My good girl. Bouncing on my cock, like a little bunny.” You babble and moan in response. “Aww. Too full to talk, bunny? S’okay. You just sit there and take it,” he would say to you, in between kisses on your breasts and face!!

You were not sure about how much time had passed. All you knew was the feeling of him inside, twitching, his hearty, deep groans, pumping you full of his cum… you could barely sit up after how sore you were!! You had also experienced your finish too — it was amazing. The both of you came together, and after that you slowly started to drift into a sleep.

————————————-

“Ya with me, hun? Was I too rough?,” you wake to the sound of Joel’s voice. You were in your room, tucked under the soft, pink and fuzzy blanket throw you had over your bed. Joel was in his boxers and nothing else, next to you. You were in his arms, your head propped onto one of your stuffed animals. “Hi,” you murmur at him. “Hi,” he smiles back. “Was it okay? Did ya like it?,” he asks, with genuine concern. You nod, giddily. You tell him you loved it, and that you were glad that he was your first. He chuckled, “Glad you feel that way, sugar. I like these stuffed animals of yours too. They’re cute, like you,” he says, a warmth in his eyes. You smile back at him, bringing him into a kiss.

The two of you cuddled for a while longer, until he realized that he had to be back home. “But, um…Joel. My parents won’t be home for the weekend, and I don’t like being home alone,” you confess to him. Here was your innocence and naivety, once again. Most people found it annoying, or strange.

Not him.

He thought for a moment. “Ya know what, sugar. I’ll stay. You’ll be safe with me, sweets. Although I might have to go to work on Sunday,” he tells you sheepishly. You giggle and snuggle closer to him, his mustache brushing over your smooth face as he smothers you in gentle kisses. The rest of the night, the two of you spent it by watching more movies. He took care of you. He gave you what you needed, opened things for you, he even ran a bath for you later that night. How could someone be so sweet?

“You’re too nice to me, Joel,” you tease. “Sweet girls like you deserve nice, plain and simple, bunny.”

You giggle, a bit flustered as the next movie comes on screen. It was a perfect way to spend a chilly, October evening.

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤 #joel miller x reader #joel miller hot #joel miller x hyperfem!reader #dom!joel miller #tlou smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller headcanon

[minkkumaz]

DISASTEROLOGY

hyunjin dreamed of you and the things you'd do together, and not one soul knew about it. he finally draws up the courage to show you his intentions

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING hwang hyunjin x gn!reader WC 1.1k TAGS friends to lovers. lovesick hyunjin. confessions. smooching. slightly angst. fluff. suggestive implications. OMI NOTE i think out of all the members i struggle with writing hyunjin the most. i literally dwelled on this for so long but honestly turned out better than i expected. @skullverse, my ptv twin. this one is for you my schmookum wookums bc ik he's ur fav!!

a single finger traced over hyunjin’s abs, making him take a sharp breath. there were a million different kinds of fun, but that was only a figment of his mind’s eye. when he was tucked in between his sheets, a tainted dream resurfaced every night.

but this wasn’t true, no, it was completely impossible. nobody knew that he dreamt about you, the dates he’d take you on, and the way he’d hold your hand so perfectly that not one person would get a single idea besides ‘they must be together.’

this was his imagination, and when he wasn’t happily rested within it, the world felt like it was at end.

often time’s he’d wake up in a cold sweat. running a hand through his hair to detach the pieces that stuck to his forehead. his shirt clung to his body, lacking the touch of you underneath.

hyunjin sighed, looking over to his blinking alarm clock that had a small sketchbook next to it. you were meant to come over soon to spend some time with him since days like that came rarely. one quick nap later and he was soon reminded of how badly he wanted you, yet couldn’t have you.

it was everything. the way your lips parted slightly when you were confused, how you stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders after he teaches you choreography, or maybe when your hand brushed against his as you walked alongside him.

a low groan of annoyance fell from his lips, moving from his spot on the bed to freshen up in the bathroom. looking in the mirror was only a reminder that today was supposed to be the day he’d say something to you; imply that he wanted so much more than to just be friends.

all he saw was his fear looking back at him. out of every drawing he’s ever made, he could never sketch out a coherent idea of how he fell victim to your spell. so instead he settled with drawing you. just you.

it was now or never, right?

picking up his phone from the charger, he sent you a text to let you know that it was okay to come over. it wouldn’t take very long, as you didn’t live too far. in the meantime, he pushed down these possessive thoughts and cleaned himself up.

the clock felt like it was ticking slower than ever, but that was just a misconception when he heard the gentle knock on his door. thousands of butterflies awoke in his stomach, and he had never been more nervous than in that moment.

he walked over to unlock the door and let you inside. you were cozy in some pajamas, with a jacket hugging your body.

“hyun!” you grin, reaching your arms around him in a hug, enabling his hands to snake around your waist.

“hey, i haven’t seen your face in awhile.” he ruffled your hair gently.

“pff, only because you’re too busy with tour.” you tease him, pulling away to follow back to his bedroom.

“okay maybe i was a little busy! but i have a present for you from when i was on tour.” he tells you, grabbing the sketchbook on his night stand and handing it to you.

“for me?” you flipped it open to see an image of yourself laying prettily on the first page. 

every pencil stroke dug into the paper, getting only the finest of details. you lower yourself back on his bed, still admiring the drawing.

“do you like it?” he smiles at you.

“do i like it? i love it oh my gosh!” you bounce slightly on his mattress, giddy with endorphins.

you place the book next to you on the comforter, reaching your hands out to pull him towards you in another embrace. in the midst of this all, he falls against you on the bed.

all you could do was let out quiet giggles with the boy on top of you, his head stuffed in the crook of your neck.

he lifted himself up, leaning up on one of his forearms. his free hand traveled to your face, moving small strands of hair that were blocking your vision. a pink hue played across his cheeks; this position felt too similar to the ones in his imagination.

“i don’t know how you were able to get all those details of me. you even got one of my moles!” you beam from underneath him.

“you’re just on my mind all the time, how could i not?” 

“uh huh, you’re too busy being one of the most desired men on the planet.” you joke with him, failing to realize he was being serious. your expression shifts when he doesn’t laugh.

“did you know that i dream about you, y/n?” he says tenderly, grazing his fingertip over your jawline.

“wh– pardon?” you mutter.

“there’s so much i want to tell you, but i don’t want to scare you off.” he looked intimidating, towering over you. but there was so much care in his words that it confused you.

“hyunjin.. you could never scare me off. i value all of my time with you.” you respond calmly, trying to mask your flusteredness.

the line he drew down your face stopped, instead drifting down your neck and across your collarbones. a shiver travelled down your spine.

“are you sure that you mean that, y/n?” his voice was composed sweetly.

“i mean it.”

“whenever i draw you, i think back to these daydreams i have about you. about us. we did so much together, but none of it was real.” he stopped, “it made me second guess things a lot. but i figured that even if the world was ending, shouldn’t we spend the rest of our time in love?”

“i– i don’t know what to say.” you lay below him with a shocked look on your face, but you were far from scared. you were curious.

“don’t say anything. just imagine us, please?” there were undertones of distress in his words.

“i like you, so much. but i don’t want to ruin things between us. i was so terrified.” you confess, biting back a frown.

“you won’t ruin anything, my muse. you’re anything far from poisonous. things will be okay.” 

“how will i know for sure?”

hyunjin looks into your glazed eyes, you were looking like you were about to cry. this only made him smile more.

he leaned down closer to you, until he was only inches away from your ear. you could feel every inhale and exhale sliding down the side of your neck.

“you’ll know if you stay. i want to create something beautiful,” he whispers, “then destroy it.”

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[anjelicawrites]

The Long Summer Vacation

Paring: Michael Gavey x reader

Synopsis: Filling this request from a lovely anon “Okay, however,,,, an idea.

So michael and y/n lets say. But they have to soend the summer vacay apart (lets say internehip in differrnt countries so on) the reunion. Seeing ewch other again! When classes start.”

Warnings: kissing, p in v sex, fingerfucking, ass and pussy spanking, cunnilingus, daddy kink, a sprinkle of angst

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

A/N 2: This fic can be read as following piece to Fun to be had and Respite or as a standalone piece.

When the doorbell rings, you are elbow deep in unpacking.

For the current university year you’ve found yourself an apartment to share with other three students, who have yet to move in, and you’re racing to organize all your possession, with classes starting in a couple of weeks and have been working for the better part of the day.

“Michael!!!” You scream, throwing your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much!!!”

Poor Michael has to open his arms, to salvage the muffins, your lips going everywhere on his face, blindly showering him with love.

You haven’t seen one another for the, so called, ‘long summer vacation’, and no name had been more right! Between you two living too far away from one another, having to attend two internships in different cities and your family being so conservative, you two were forced to rely on secretive phone calls and texts to communicate with one another, for the whole of summer.

In order to have some time to spend with one another, you have both come back to Oxford earlier than everyone else, you using the new apartment as an excuse with your family.

“Hello love.” Michael says, the rumble of his voice familiar, as if you two hadn’t been away from one another for months. “I’ve missed you too, pretty thing.”

You inhale his smell, your nose buried in his T-shirt. Afraid as you were of your family finding out about him, you had to give him back all of his clothes that had become yours in the course of last year; having to go months without his comforting smell had been torture.

“Do you think we can go inside?” He asks and you just mumble against his chest. “Come on, I’ve bought food for tea break. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’ve missed you more.” You manage to say, your arms still tight around his torso.

“Come on, I’ll make tea and we can finish organizing your things.”

“But I’ve missed you so much!!!” You reply, sullen

“If you behave, we can order pizza and all the greasy sides you desire. What do you say?”

“OK daddy!!!”

Slowly you uncoil yourself from him, only to sneak behind him, your hands creeping under his awful T-shirt, to hug him.

“How do you expect me to walk, sweet thing?” He says, a small smile on his lips

“You’re the smartest, daddy. I think you can figure it out.” You sing song, loving skating so close to the razor’s edge.

“Hmm, these months have been horrendous on your manners, sweet thing. I think I will need to remind you of how you should behave, before the term starts.”

He tries to be stern, but the happiness he feels tinges his words: he can be frightening, when he wants to, and this afternoon he’s too glad that you’re with him to be anything else but giddy.

You’ll still get your punishment, though, just not today.

“OK daddy.” You say, sugary sweet and loving knowing he’s going to make you pay for being so naughty. “I’m hungry. Aren’t you supposed to make me tea?”

“You can’t wait to be punished, do you, pretty thing?” He’s humorous, but he’s already planning what he will do to you, in the next few days.

“I just want to be with you, daddy.” You say, kissing him between his scapulae.

“Me as well, pretty thing. Me as well.”

Trying to coordinate your steps, you enter the apartment. Per se, the place is nothing to be raving about: a living room with a kitchen and a lumpy sofa, four single bedrooms and one bathroom. Poor Michael doesn’t have the time to speak, that you grab his big hand and drag him to your bedroom.

“See?” You ask him, excitedly.

For a second he doesn’t understand why you’re so pumped up, then his eyes land on the bed. The bed that’s almost a full double. The bed where you two will not have to cram into one another and wake up stiff and sore. The bed equipped with a wrought-iron headboard, which can come extremely handy when you need to be punished.

“Don’t tell me you picked this one, because of this?” He says incredulous.

“No.” Your face finds its place again between his scapulae. “But the other apartment didn’t have a bed like this one.”

You can’t see how dark Michael’s expression becomes, his brain already thinking about all the things he can do to you. How you two can christen this room.

“I hope the walls are well insulated.”

The rough edge in his voice makes warmth explode like a supernova in your chest as you try to hide your embarrassed face from his scrutinizing gaze, when he turns around to face you. In the light of the afternoon sun his blond hair seem even fairer, the blue of his eyes clearer.

“Do you want to make a test run?” You ask him.

Your arms sneak around his neck, your body plastered against his, your breasts pushed against his chest, soft and full, his hands finding home on your hips and under your T-shirt, warm on your skin.

“Aren’t you supposed to unpack?” His voice is a deep rumble, his control a slim tether when he realizes you are only wearing panties under your clothes.

“Well, I’ve already dealt with my side of the kitchen and bathroom. I’m halfway done with the clothes; the only things still in the boxes are my books, but those can wait.”

“Good.” His hands grab your buttocks and squeeze to the point of pain. “Because you have to show me if you’ve been good this summer, pretty thing.” He growls next to your ear.

Your Michael is many things, layers upon layers that no one gets to see, all buried under the genius freak mask. Now? He’s hungry for you and you can’t wait to be devoured.

Your lips meet halfway, mouths already open, his tongue in your mouth, stating his claim after months apart. Your nails rake down his back and his hips kick against yours, cock already hard through the cotton of his trousers, his body pushes yours roughly backwards, until you hit the bed and fall there, legs spread, your T-shirt rides upwards his eyes zeroing on the pink cotton of your knickers and the wet patch there.

“Wet already?” He tries to be stern, but he’s missed you too fucking much to properly control himself.

“I can’t help myself. Not after this long!” You whine your answer.

You’re not playing as well: there’s going to be time for that, play pretend, brat and tamer, now you’re two human being, raw emotions and carnal needs.

He covers your body with his, your hands desperately trying to open his pants, his in the way as he takes off his T-shirt and throws it somewhere behind him, your fingers finding home in the darker hair on his chest, your palms teasing his nipples, until he whimpers and falls upon you, stupid glasses still on his nose digging against the soft skin of your neck as he kisses you, bites you, marks you, his fingers roughly pushing your knickers to the side, his cock sliding up and down, to wet himself using your sweet juices he’s missed for so long.

“Please love.” His voice his broken with need; if only he could keep a tighter control upon himself!

“Yes! Now, now, please yes!!!” You almost scream, fingers wrapping around his erection to jack him, his precome all over your hand.

Michael doesn’t know how he manages to grab the condom from the stash hidden in the bedside table, his fingers trembling as he opens the small package, but he does and you grab it from him, to roll it on his weeping erection, your sinful mouth following your motions, cheeks sucked in to give him more friction, but his hand goes to your hair immediately, to stop you.

“I need to come inside of you.” He rasps, one hand on your shoulder to push you on the mattress.

“Then do it.” Your fingers spread your lower lips, your weeping hole already clenching around nothing and Christ he almost comes untouched.

“I’ll take care of you properly, later, I promise.” A string of whimpers follow as his head breaches you after months.

He feels so warm that for a second he can’t breath, your cunt so wet, the silk of it he can feel through the thin barrier of the condom: he has to stop midway, your hole massaging him so perfectly he’s afraid he might come, his teeth ruining his lower lip in the attempt to keep himself under control, and you aren’t in better shape than he is. You’re wet and loose already, but you’re not used to his size anymore, your body slowly accepting to be breached by him, your cunt molding itself around his impressive manhood, your hips moving upwards trying to take more of him, until he is flush against you, his whole weight on you, your legs around his hips, to keep him trapped inside of you.

There’s a string of filth cascading from his mouth, his lips against yours, almost touching, his breath mingling with yours as your body adjusts to being invaded again, your hands caress his long back keep him grounded.

“Now, Michael, please!”

He grinds against you, slow movements to open you up to his invasion, until he can pull back and push in, the rhythm steady, gentle, because he needs to feel you, every crevice of your body hugging his, the sound of your joined bodies lewder and wetter as he goes faster and your hips follow him, the muscles of your cunt massaging his cock, the vise tighter and tighter, until he knows he’s coming, the sounds you’re making telling him that you’re right behind him, that his cock is hitting you where pleasure makes you dizzy, his hip bone steady against your clit, your muscles strangling his dick, until you come, curling around him and he follows with a pained moan, the pressure around him almost impossible to bear but he can’t stop his hips from moving, helping you ride your high, until it becomes too much and he has to leave your warmth, his body lax upon yours, your breathing erratic, your heart beating desperately under his ear.

You’re sitting against Michael’s, wearing only his T-shirt. You two are on the lumpy sofa, you curled between his splayed legs, drinking tea and finally eating the muffin he’s bought.

You two are watching the photos your family has taken during the holidays in Spain; with your head under his chin you’re telling him about the places you all have been and he can’t help but stopping on the pics in which you are wearing your bikini, making a point in complimenting you and how pretty you look, something he started doing when you told him that your sister had always been considered the ‘pretty one’ in the family, thus forcing you to become the ‘smart one’, since the your only redeeming feature had always been your brain. It angers him that your family is so conservative, yet your parents thought normal to rate you and your siblings on the way you all look, that he’s made a point in highlighting what he likes of your body, until you hide your face in embarrassment.

“And, what about your internship?” Michael asks you with genuine curiosity in his voice.

“It went well.” You use your position to hide your winning smile. “It was interesting, I’ve seen a lot of things. And they’ve proposed me to keep working for them on an on call basis!”

You make sure to look at his face to see the surprise there.

“And you told me nothing!” He says, his accent winning over as he slaps your arse.

“I wanted to announce it face to face.” You say, fake demure all over your face.

“And you had to pretend the place was so boring?” He slaps your ass again, you yelp.

“Surprise daddy!!!” You sing song..

“You’re the naughtiest pretty thing!”

A rapid series of slaps land on your arse, his free hand keeps you plastered against his chest as your legs flail and you are whimpering, your face against the side of his neck.

“Do you have anything to say?” He then asks.

You need a moment to answer your breath too shallow to talk immediately.

“Sorry daddy.” You answer, eyes lowered.

You kiss his stubby cheek, a slow path to his lips, where you stop, waiting for his permission, which comes in the form of his hand in your hair and his tongue ravaging your mouth.

Your hands fly around his neck, his free one grabs your hip to lie you on the sofa, your legs curling around his hips; you want him as close to you as physically possible, those months spent apart had crushed you and now that he’s here, you feel like your body needs to wear his scent to remind you of who you are.

“Now.” He’s as breathless as you are, his glasses foggy and askew. “Did you do as I told you?”

You know the tone has shifted, he’s not going to let any brattish behavior fly right now.

“Yes daddy. I tried everyday but my family was in the way.”

“I know you managed your best. Show me.”

He kneels between your splayed legs while you lift your hips to pull the T-shirt from under your naked ass, one of your legs on the back of the sofa, the other firmly planted on the floor.

“Please daddy?”

Your index and middle finger travel to his lips, his big hand cups yours, his lips ready to leave kisses on your palm, his tongue sneaking out to lick your fingers, slow, sensual movements that make shiver explode all over your body, his eyes fixed on yours as he pops his head up and down, the lewd sounds he makes travel straight to your clit.

“Show me.” His voice is deeper now, rougher, he owns you and you know it.

With your left hand you spread your lips to let him see fully your index and middle finger slowly slipping in, careful each knuckle breaches you, your hips lifting to follow the slow rhythm, your juices easing in your digits, lewd sounds that make Michael lick his lips: he can’t wait to taste you.

“You can only manage two, sweet thing?”

You whimper, your fingers curling upwards to rub against your G spot. You have to force yourself to stop and focus on him.

“No daddy. Look.”

You take a deep breath to relax yourself, before inserting your ring finger. The fit is tight and the angle a bitch, but you manage to bottom out with a whimper, your fingers slowly scissoring you open as you fuck yourself, your walls hugging you so tight, your nerves alive with every movement you make.

You have to fight to keep your eyes on Michael, who is observing you fucking yourself like a predator does its prey, his tongue between his teeth, his cock swollen against the cotton of his briefs. He has to grab his cock when you try to insert your little finger: you’re struggling, your hole can barely fit and the angle is terrible, your wrist hurts, still you’re trying, frustrated moans mixed with whimpers leave your lips, the pressure in your cunt almost unbearable, your hips jumping off the sofa in the haste to follow your movements.

You scream when Michael’s hand cups the one between your legs to help you fuck yourself fully, his other on your tummy, pushing down to torment you more, your juices weeping from your cunt when Michael forces you to fuck yourself faster, his voice rough when he commands you to come for him, now! The force of the orgasms makes you blank momentarily, your whole body trembles, fingers slipping out of your cunt, slick with your juices as you try to control your breathing.

“You did so well, sweet thing.” Michael’s long body covers yours, his lips on your forehead in a gentle kiss. “Here, let me help.”

His hand takes your wet one and brings it to his mouth, tongue licking your digits slowly, slurping sounds, obscene, that go straight to your clit, your hips thrusting weakly upwards, towards his straining cock, all the pent up sexual need buried for months exploding like fireworks in your belly.

“Do you still need me, sweet thing?” The condescending smile on his lips make you feel small, in all the right ways.

“Always, daddy. I’ve missed you so bad!” You whine, pathetic and hungry for his cock.

“As I did. Had to have a wank every bloody day thinking about your tits and cunt.” One hand cups your left breast, roughly. “I was miserable, made an arse out of myself. And it’s all your fault! What are you going to do about it?”

You spread your legs even more, thin tendrils of your come stretching between your lower lips.

“Use me daddy? Please?”

A slap lands on your cunt, then another and another, you yelp miserably, forcing yourself to keep your legs spread for him, pain and pleasure like mist in your brain, the wetness redoubling with every hit that lands on your wet folds.

“Thank you, daddy.” You manage to say weakly, legs shacking with the effort to keep them in place.

“You can thank me later. I am not done.” He says calmly, folding his glasses.

Michael dives between your legs, hands grabbing roughly at your hips, mouth covering your cunt, tongue lapping at your folds with fast, precise movements that have you squirm, fingers curling painfully on your skin, your clit firing shots of pleasure when he starts sucking on the small bud with intent, your legs flailing uselessly over his shoulders, hips jutting against his angular face, your high closer and closer, the band of pressure building in your belly stretching and stretching, until it snaps and your scream, mind foggy with pleasure.

You’re still hazy, heart beating fast in your chest, your skin distantly carrying the feel of Michael’s body lying upon yours, his hands maneuvering your useless legs around his hips, his cock sliding up and down your obscenely, wet cunt, shock waves of pleasure zap up your spine with every passing against your abused clit.

“Is this still good, sweet thing?” His hands are strong on your skin, yet his voice is caring

“Yeah.” Weak and small, your want him until your mind shuts down, until the pleasure it’s too much to bear.

Your can hear him unwrap the condom and slide it on his engorged cock with a long moan of pleasure that makes you tremble, your hole clenching around nothing.

“That’s my sweet thing.”

You can feel him adjust your boneless legs around his hips again, the head of his cock nudging at your obscenely wet hole, you��re so drenched, muscles already loosened from being fucked before, that’s easier for your body to accept him, your juices squelching as he bottoms out, his hips flushed against yours, his arms bracketing your head, lips hovering over yours.

“I love you.” You moan, a tear sliding down your cheek, followed by another, and then another.

You feel so much, you’ve missed him badly for the whole of summer and now, being in his arms again, is like a dream come true, your emotions exploding inside your chest, the fire stroked by each of his trusts inside your willing, pliant body.

“I love you too, sweet thing.” He says through gritted teeth, desperate to control his reactions to the pleasure you’re giving him.

Michael’s lips follow your tears, gently drying them as his hips piston inside of you, all your nerves coming alive, your hips following his, your nails raking down his back, moans and sobs cascading from your parted lips, praises spill from his, his love for you in each kiss he leaves on your face.

You feel perfect wrapped around him, his body enslaved by yours, his nerves singing with pleasure and the need to lose himself inside of you, again, all those months apart tearing his control down. He needs to focus on your pleasure, on making you feel good like never before, because that’s what you deserve, because words fail him sometimes, because the smell of sex and your sweet taste on his lips drive him insane, and he wants you as mindless as he is.

You cling to his body, your cunt wrapping around his cock desperately, your lips on his, the kiss all tongue and teeth, the pleasure curling and curling inside of you, your emotions swirling inside your chest and you’re floating higher and higher, until the pleasure explodes inside of you, your cunt so tight around Michael’s cock that he follows with a scream of pleasure, his body falling on yours, both trembling, still entwined with one another.

Both of you take your time, feeling each other’s skins, wet, open mouthed kisses falling on both your bodies, your hearts beating twin, mad tattoos in your chests, your muscles burning and trembling. Walking to the bed is a joint effort, each body keeps the other upright, your feet unsteady, his breath short as you two drag yourselves to your bed. The mattress feels like a dream, so is snuggling under the blanket, and having enough space to lie down next to one another, without having to cram yourselves on those awful dorm beds.

For blissful seconds your mind is absolutely blank, all you can do is feel Michael’s chest rise and fall under your cheek, his scent mixed with yours in your nostrils, your still trembling fingers playing with the darker hairs on his chest. It feels so peaceful, so normal and right you wish this moment would never end.

“I can’t wait for our life to be like this.” You murmur against Michael’s heated skin

“Me fucking you senseless in every room?”

“Michael!” You swat his chest and he laughs

“When are your friends coming back?”

You grimace a bit. He’s not said anything bad about them, which is a big step forward for him, but his tone it’s enough to carry his disdain for them, none of them smart enough for his too brilliant mind to bear and you find yourself between him and them, sometimes feeling like you have to spread yourself too thinly to make everyone’s happy.

“By the end of this week, ish. My new roommates around next week. Promise you’ll be nice with them?” You ask, but don’t dare stare into his eyes.

Michael huffs under your cheek.

“If they’re not too much the vapid cunts.” He answers, voice cutting.

You have to maneuver yourself to stare at him, your chin on your hands, his skin under your fingertips.

“Michael please. I really like this home and I would like to keep it for those two years of university I have left.”

“You shouldn’t pay that much attention to what other people think.” He says, with his usual haughty tone that makes you want to slap some sense into him.

“And you don’t have to be an asshole just because not everyone is MENSA smart as you are!” You bite back, the relaxation you’ve been feeling already leaving your body. “I love you Michael, but you make it so hard sometimes!”

You turn around to stand up and go to the bathroom, but Michael is faster, his hand around your wrist stops you, with a gentle tug he tries to have you lie on him again.

“Let me go Michael, please.”

“Stay.” He looks immensely sad, like every time he realizes he’s fucked up a human interaction, and with you the disappointment in himself always cuts deeper.

“I’m not asking you to like them, or become best friend with them, just put up with them being normal people?” You ask with a gentle voice, trying to keep your disappointment at bay: you know how Michael is and how much he can’t help himself, but there’s you as well, and your feelings.

You can see how torn he is, between keeping people away from himself, and not create problems for you, he’s so stubborn he can’t decide on what he wants to do.

“I can try.” He concedes and it’s plain on his face how hard it is for him to partially bend his stiff neck, even for you.

“Thank you.” You hug him, your arms tight around his neck to crush him against yourself. “I know it’s not how you would usually deal with people and how hard it is to try. I promise my roommates are really nice!”

Michael’s hands travel down your back, his big hands find the soft meat of your arse to squeeze them and push closer to him.

“As long as you’re going to reward me, I’ll try.” The lecherous tone in his voice should make you gag, instead you hug even tighter.

“Thank you Michael!”

If this weren’t Michael, you would have kicked the person out of your bed, and your life, but it’s him, and you know it’s one of his many defensive mechanism when he knows he’s fucked up. You know he is never confident in talking his feelings freely, he still needs all his layers and you’ve learned to read him, understand every subtle shade of his character, because he can’t just show his core to the world to see. It had been frustrating, those first few month together, feeling bad because you felt like you weren’t creating a safe space for him to express himself, only to realize that’s how he does it, the only way he knows to let you know him. It’s so convoluted that sometimes you only want to bang your head against the wall, but that’s who your Michael is, and you know he’s trying to make communication between you two easier.

“I’ll truly try.” He says, voice straining. “Just don’t expect me to pop by at every party they might throw.”

“That’s fine.” You kiss his cheek, knowing full well how much it hurts for him to tear another protective layer off. “And thank you for trying, it means the world to me! And if you get too friendly with them, you might fall for one of them, and I can’t have that!” You say, trying to diffuse his uncertainty.

“That will never happen.” His eyes fixate on the wall. “No one is you, and I only want you.”

Your hand gently cups his cheek to turn his head and stare at him.

“And I feel the same way you do. I don’t want to have anyone by my side, but you.”

You gently kiss him, all your love pouring out of you and he curls his arms around you, crushing you against himself: he’s been so lucky to find you, he’s not risking losing you by being an arse.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” He asks, needing a breather from the conversation, and his feelings.

“Have a walk and lie somewhere to read? I want to enjoy these last days of good weather before the term starts.

“That’s a deal.”

Not in a thousand years he’d ever thought to find happiness with another person. For the first time in his life, reaching out to another human being bought him joy, not frustration and he’s still astonished; he’d even did a quick probability calculus in his head one day, only to realize how slim the chances had been of meeting one another and for you to stick around. It’s that, sometimes, it’s hard to balance out his temper and your happiness.

“Will you let me make love to you tomorrow? Just feel you and make you feel good?”

“Yes.” He chokes on the word, the need to feel you in any way you’ll let him is a hot haze in his mind. “And I still need to correct your horrendous behavior.” He adds, willing himself not to get hard.

“I can’t wait daddy.” You say, burrowing your face against his shoulder.

“What do you want to do now?” He tries to keep his voice even, you using that word is like a pavlovian reflex in his head.

“Can we just chill? And then order the greasiest pizza we can find?”

“Yes.” He breathes against the crown of your head.

It all sounds so normal, so homely, that he wishes this week will stretch on forever.

#michael gavey #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x reader

[99hook]

The Wembley Aftermath | Part Two

Synopsis: He won the ftw back and just like when he lost it, all he wants is you

Warnings: smut, but the loving kind. just a lot of sweetness all around

A/N: if you haven’t yet, you can read part one here. Still channeling the inner softer lovergirl in me so that’s exactly what this revolves around. Enjoy babesss!

They just didn’t make planes fast enough for him. He had an anxious knee bouncing the second he boarded and sat down in his seat.

It took him longer than he expected to catch a last minute flight. He should’ve been looking out the window onto the horizon but instead he just took his last steps on European soil.

He got situated and pulled out his phone, ignoring the numerous notifications filling his screen as he gave you a call.

You answered within seconds, appearing on his screen with that giddy smile he’s sure never left your face since he told you he was on his way to you.

“Hey angel ” He grinned as he adjusted the singular airpod in his ear. He tried to keep his voice to a minimum since the plane was so quiet. “I just got to my seat. Running a little late, but I’m finally on my way.”

You stopped the dishes you were doing and leaned against the counter, unable to contain that full fledged smile.

“Do you know what time you’ll be getting here?” You asked.

“Looks like I’ve got nine hours.” He sighs, “So what time is it right now?”

“Two-thirty” you nearly whine. Nine hours was far too long for you to anticipate.

“Damn that’s a big difference” he says as he glances at the screen in front of him. “It’s already night time over here.”

“I’d rather you not remind me how far away you are right now.” You tell him with a slight pout of your lower lip.

“Not for long though.” He beams back at you. “I’ll be there before you know it, little mama. Keep the door unlocked for me and try to get some sleep before I land.”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get any sleep knowing you’re gonna be here tonight” you chuckle as you lean your phone against the wall and start drying off plates.

“You’re right. Guess I’ll just have to tire you out instead.” He smirks before realizing, thanks to two people across from him shooting him a look, that he said that a little too loud.

You picked up on the crimson tinge across his cheeks and the way he immediately lowered his voice to a barely there whisper.

“People across from me just heard that. I feel weird as fuck now.” He tried to stifle the laugh he wanted to burst out by sliding his hood over his head and pulling the sides to cover his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expense, especially with the way he sunk down in his seat.

“Maybe you should think twice before trying to talk dirty to me while you’re on a plane.” You tease.

“Maybe they should think twice before eavesdropping.” He counters with that infamous, knee weakening smirk he perfected.

“Is it really eavesdropping if you basically announced your plans to fuck me when you get here though?” You bantered back, playing back a little smirk of your own. “You’re never good at lowering your voice, baby. Probably the worst whisperer I’ve ever met in my life, actually.”

“Nah, you’re the one who has trouble with all that. Even burying your face in a pillow doesn’t stop the neighbors from hearing you.”

You felt your cheeks immediately burn, freezing for a second with a bashful smile.

“Well you’re right there with me.” You quirked a brow. “You don’t remember when your friend told you he heard you groaning all the way down the hall a couple days ago? His room was four doors down. No telling who heard what that night.”

He dropped his head for a split second trying to hide the smile.

“We don’t talk about that.” He tries to put on a stern face but fails. He catches the glances from the same people across from him and rolls his eyes behind the hood.

Just then, the plane finally started to take off. He was so caught up in your conversation he missed the announcement.

“Alright little mama, im officially on my way. I’m exhausted so I’m gonna try to get some sleep before I get there. You should really do the same.”

“Don’t know how that’s even possible for me but I’ll do my best.” You chuckle before grabbing the phone and holding it up.

“I’ll help you out with that if not. I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.”

“See you soon, champ.”

You got one last smile from him before he hung up, and over the course of those agonizing nine hours, you did any and everything you could to keep yourself occupied, all while he was fast asleep on the plane.

Eventually, somehow, around eight-thirty, you ended up laying down for a quick little nap. Your alarm was set for ten so you would be up when he walks through the door, but you slept right through it.

You were awoken by Tyler’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, his lips peppering gentle kisses to your neck.

“I’m back, mamas.”

His voice was groggy but he wasn’t willing to sleep. He only had one day to spend with you before he has to go home, then straight to Chicago right after and he wasn’t planning on wasting a single second.

You rolled over, your arms instinctively wrapping around him and he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly, refusing to let go.

“Missed you so much” you muttered against his shirt, feeling his arms squeeze around you tighter.

“I missed you more” you feel his arms loosen a bit and pull back to look at him. Tired, low eyes and a relaxed smile plays on his face as he stares back at you.

You push some of the hair back out of his face and run your thumb over his cheek before leaning in and finally placing a delicate kiss to his plump lips like you’ve been wishing you could’ve done since he left for London.

That kiss that was previously so featherlight escalated into a passionate, rhythmic and breathy collision that lead to him hovering over you, his calloused yet gentle hand caressing your skin from your side to your thigh and back again.

Before he left for London the two of you had a long, wild night. One that left you with a sore throat from the high pitched moans, aching thighs and his fingerprints tatted on your skin.

He still had a few red lines patterned out on his back from your nails scratching all down it but it just served as a reminder of the memory every time he felt the sting.

Tonight, however, he wanted things to be different. He wanted to slow it down and take his time. There was no way to adequately compensate for the time you’d be apart again but he was going to do his best to try.

He may have had the most anticipation built up than he’s ever had but he didn’t want to take it all out at once. He wanted to make this moment last as long as humanly possible, which was why the kiss was so slow, the caresses were so tender.

He was savoring the flavor of you. The feeling of your smooth skin beneath his fingertips. He wanted to remember every last detail when he’s away from you again.

He could sense your pent up arousal and the eager anticipation running through you, but when you gave his hair an encouraging tug, he pulled back slightly to look down on you.

“Don’t worry, beautiful. We’ll get there. I just want to take my time with you. Show you how much I miss you every time I have to leave.”

He leaned back down and locked his hips with yours again. One hand cradled the side of your face while the other hand slowly made its way to your inner thigh, his fingertips hovering just over the trim of your panties without giving the full connection you couldn’t fight the urge for.

A soft sigh slipped past your lips, getting lost somewhere within his mouth and he had to try not to smirk at that.

You tangled your fingers up in his hair with one hand while the other one roamed all over every inch of his muscular back.

You could feel his hardness dying to be unrestricted from beneath his sweats and he was fighting for his life not to slide them off too soon.

“This is harder than I thought it would be” he manages to weakly chuckle, “guess I should’ve known by now that I can never control myself when I get you like this”

Your fluster only escalates when he rises up to his knees, his palms roaming up and down your spread thighs before his fingers hook underneath the thin strap of your panties and he slides them down your legs before tossing them elsewhere.

His licks his lips once, a gleam in his eye that you recognize all too well, but right before he goes to lower his head down, you reach out and intertwine your fingers through his hair to stop him.

“Save that for later, please baby, right now I just want you. Nothing else, just you.”

He felt his heart skip a beat but you didn’t know that. He nodded as he proceeded to slide his sweats down and found himself hovering back over you, the ends of his hair hovering against your forehead as his eyes dived deep into yours.

He held that contact as he pushed inside of you, even though his eyes threatened to roll back the second he was embraced by the tight warmth he’d been missing all too much.

You inhaled a deep breath and let out a relieved sigh as your hands instinctively reached up and your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to feel that intense closeness you’ve been needing.

He wrapped his arms underneath your back as he pushed in all of the way, holding still for a couple of seconds to really feel it all.

His thrusts were slow when he started moving, his lips peppering loose kisses to your shoulder as he buried his face there. He hugged you tight as he rocked into you, whispering a series of sweet nothings between every thrust.

“You feel amazing, mamas”

“Can’t believe you’re all mine”

“I don’t ever wanna go a day without doing this”

Though half of those soft spoken confessions were barely comprehensible to you with the way your heart was pounding in your ears.

He sped up slightly and leaned up, supporting his weight with his elbows digging into the mattress. He just wanted to take his time to look at you. Found himself adoring the way you moaned then smiled when he hit your sweet spot just right.

Your eyes locked with his when you were somehow able to peer them open, coming face to face with his heavy lids and furrowed brows. The puffy, parted lips tempted you and you gave in to those temptations within seconds, having no choice but to pull him down by the gold chain dangling to taste those lips again.

The second your lips connected, the thrusts slowed dramatically. He found himself so lost in the moment, as if a spell had been casted over him.

He felt your nails digging into the same places they did days ago, your thighs tightening around his waist and he knew that second what was next.

“Come on, mamas” he coaxed as his hips swirled with fluidity. “I want to feel you coming on me. You’re so fucking beautiful, feel so damn heavenly right now, you’re a goddamn goddess, and you deserve to be fucked like one every. single. night.”

He punctuated those praises with three snaps of his hips and you were absolutely done for. He wrapped his arms even tighter underneath you and buried his face back into your shoulder, keeping the thrusts strong and steady to prolong that high as much as he possibly could.

He felt it the second your orgasm powered through you. The way you throbbed around him, warmth spilling all over him. Your broken moans were the push over the edge for him when his name rolled off the tip of your tongue and by that point he couldn’t even hold back if his life depended on it.

His whole body stiffened, low groans and deep, raspy, breathy sighs filled up the room as he pushed his hips back in and out a few more times. You felt his entire body relax after that, as if he’d absolutely melted into you.

He slowly pulled out and used the very last bit of his mustered strength to hold himself up with those elbows, just to get the glimpse of afterglow on your face.

Your reddened cheeks and wildly sprawled hair was your dead giveaway. His droopy eyes and glistening skin was his.

The two of you looked at each other, both breaking out in smiles before he leaned down and placed a kiss to your lips.

He unwrapped one arm from underneath you and found your hand instead, intertwining your fingers as he slowly moved his lips with yours.

When the two of you broke apart, he rolled onto his side and pulled you into him. You traced the fresh tattoo on his chest as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair, before you peeked up and caught the effortless, relaxed half smile on his face.

“Thank you” he hears you whisper, glancing down at you. “For making the time to come and see me. I know you’re so busy all the time, but the fact that you jumped on the first flight just to spend a little time with me, it means the world, Tyler.”

A softer smile replaced that previous one and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead before he wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you as close as you could get.

“I’ll always make time for you, baby. You’re my number one priority no matter how busy I am with work or whatever else. If you need me, I’ll do anything I can to be right here. No matter what.”

#hook aew #aew hook #hook #hook x reader #hook imagine #tyler senerchia #hook nation rise #send hook

[ctitan98official]

Rosalie Hale gets pregnant by Y/N

I had this idea and wanted to roll with it since I’m simping hard for Rosalie. As always, Y/N is gender-neutral… But in this fic they are also a badass lycan. Hc bullshit science and lycan anatomy as to how Y/N is able to get Rosalie pregnant. Let’s get into it!

You and Rosalie were currently cuddling on the couch. She was lying on you and gently running her cool fingers against your arm. Her touch greatly relaxed you.

You had been seriously dating for a couple years. You even moved into your own house together. (Not too far away from her family, of course). You love her so damn much. You feel like you don’t deserve her, but Rose often says that she feels the same way about you. As amazing as she is, Rose still has some trouble with her self confidence.

You were a lycan. Not a shifter, not a werewolf. Documentation of full-blooded lycan abilities was next to none. You had opened up to Rose about some things, but the rest you kept in the dark. You had been holding onto some major information that you needed to share with her, and were currently working up the nerve to speak to her about it.

Rose seems calm right now, so you bite your lip anxiously. It’s now or never. “Hey, Rosie?” You ask suddenly.

“Hmm?” Rose answers distractedly. The feeling of your warmth against her was heavenly and her mind was preoccupied with her ministrations.

“This is gonna sound really random, but… Do you… I mean… I’ve heard you talk about wanting to be a… Mom.” You say delicately. You knew it was a sore subject for her.

Rose’s hand that’s rubbing your arm stills immediately. She sits up and looks at you. “Y/N… Where are you going with this?” She asks cautiously.

You clear your throat. “Well… I haven’t been completely… Honest about certain parts of myself.” You say, looking away in shame. You feel awful about keeping your abilities a secret from her. But, when your relationship first started, Rose was always so guarded. You were afraid of pushing her away by sharing too much of yourself, and then… It just never seemed like the right time.

Rose’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about, Y/N?” If her heart could still beat, it would be thundering in her chest. What were you about to tell her?

“Umm… Well, you know I’m not human.” You tell her.

Rose nods, confused.

“But, one thing I never told you was that I… Can give you children.” You reveal… Before trying to clarify your statement. “Um! But, only if you want me to! It’s your body, Rose!” You ramble, suddenly feeling panicked as you wait for a reaction.

What? Were you being serious? “Y/N… Are you saying you can… Get me pregnant?” She questions with a waver in her voice. She hoped that’s what you meant.

“I, um… Yes.” You say with a blush on your face.

“H-how? I’m a vampire.” Rose questions in disbelief.

“Lycans are able to impregnate their mates. No matter if they’re shifters, werewolves, or… Vampires.” You begin. “It’s so we’re able to pass on the lycan gene.” You explain and scratch your neck nervously.

Rose lets out a gasp as her hand flies to her mouth in shock. This… Was her dream. Not only to carry a baby, but for it to be your baby. She’s never loved anyone like she loves you. The thought alone makes her giddy. She lets out a sob and you hold her against your chest as she cries in happiness. “I c-can’t believe it.” She says.

You gently rub her back as she takes everything in.

After a moment, Rose calms down and pulls back to look at you. “Y/N, I want to have your baby. More than anything. I love you.” She whispers.

You grin. This makes you so happy. She wanted to have your child. She loves you that much. You are… Complete with her, but a little one would only add more love into your lives. And, Rose has wanted this for so long.

Your eyes begin to darken lustfully. “I… Want to… Claim you. Make you mine.” You say, your voice holding a low husk that betrays your hidden desires.

Rose’s eyes become hooded as she smells your excitement. “Really?” She purrs with a coquettish smile.

You nod and scoop her up before taking her to your room.

The two of you seemingly spent days up there…

——————————————————————————

One morning, not long after you two begin trying for a baby, Rose walks into the kitchen and the smell of your breakfast immediately makes her nauseated. She hasn’t felt sick for literal decades. It’s overwhelming. She quickly claps her hand over her mouth and runs to the bathroom before throwing up.

You are alarmed and run in to hold her hair back as she heaves and retches.

Finally, Rose’s stomach stops roiling and she wipes her mouth before flushing the toilet and leaning back into you.

You kiss her head and hold her.

“Oh my gosh. I���m so sorry you had to see that, baby.” Rose apologizes, mortified. She always wanted to be presentable for you. “I… Didn’t know vampires could get sick…” She says, completely baffled.

You chuckle. “You are so sweet. Being sick, but worrying about me.” You say softly.

Rose giggles at you before she shakily stands to brush her teeth. After she finishes and has a minute to relax, her eyes widen as she thinks of something. “Y/N?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah, babe?” You answer as you hug her from behind and start pressing kisses to her shoulder.

“I… Y/N, I think I might be pregnant. I’ve never felt like this before.” She says, trying not to get her hopes up. She whirls around to look at you. “Do you think?!” She asks almost frantically.

But you, surprisingly, begin to laugh.

Rose looks at you in complete confusion. “What’s so funny?” She asks and narrows her eyes.

You finally stop chuckling and cup her face. “I’ve known you were pregnant for a few days, babe.” You say with a smile.

Rose blinks in disbelief. She just had an out-of-body experience. “I… W-what?!” She questions, really hoping she heard you correctly.

“Your smell is completely different now. I would have told you, but… I wanted you to find out for yourself. Sorry.” You shoot her a shy smile.

Rose is silent for a moment as she processes this information.

The longer that Rose doesn’t talk, the longer you begin to worry that she’s upset. Did she change her mind about wanting a baby?

Before you can fully panic, Rose begins to laugh and brings her hands up to cover her mouth. “I’m pregnant?” She asks you, confirming that this is real.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you hear the happiness in her voice. “You’re pregnant, Rosie.” You tell her.

Rose begins crying. She can’t believe it. A little baby is growing inside of her right this very minute. Part you and part her. She brings a hand to her tummy and rubs it gently. Her child is right beneath her fingertips. Wow.

“So, I take it you’re pleased?” You joke.

Rose looks to you with the most adoration you’ve ever seen.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’ve made my dreams come true.” She whispers. For the first time since she was changed, a tear slips down her cheek. Rose wipes her eyes, bewildered by the unfamiliar feeling and looks at the wetness on her fingers in shock. She can… Cry tears now? It’s actually a huge release for her… This just makes her tear up even more.

You gently cup her face and look at her with a smirk. “Oh no. Now that you’re pregnant you can cry actual tears too? That’s going to be fun with mood swings.” You say.

Rose playfully scoffs and pops your shoulder. “You better be on your best behavior, Y/N. You don’t want a pregnant, hormonal vampire angry at you.” She warns with a grin which makes you laugh.

After Rose has a chance to get cleaned up better, you both go up to cuddle in bed.

Weirdly enough, after being so sick, Rose feels… Really hungry. Not for blood, but… Food. She suddenly sits up rigidly as she realizes this.

You startle. “What’s wrong, babe?! Are you okay?” You ask with worry as you cling to her shoulder.

Rose looks at you sheepishly before answering. “Um… Y/N? Could you… Make me something to eat?” She asks.

Your eyes go wide. Another side effect of her pregnancy? Vampire bodies are weird. You must confess, you don’t know all too much about their anatomy and physiology (Aside from the knowledge that lycans can get their vampire mates pregnant). “You mean, like, food food?” You ask.

Rose inwardly giggles at your surprise. “Yes. Are you going to deny breakfast to the mother of your future child, Y/N?” She questions in mock sadness as she pouts at you.

“N-no! I’ll get it right now!” You say and hurry out of the room… Before running back in. “Uhh… Sorry, what do you want?” You ask.

Rose can’t help but laugh at your frazzled face. “I think we would both like some pancakes, right baby?” Rose asks as she looks down and cradles her stomach. After a moment of pretending to be in deep conversation with the little one, she nods. “Yes, that’s what we want.” She declares with a grin.

Rose is so cute. You’ve never seen her quite this happy before. It makes your heart melt. “I’m on it, babe!” You say.

——————————————————————————

After the first month, Rose begins carefully studying her belly in the mirror, constantly looking for a change. No luck yet, though.

Carlisle has run some tests and has found that due to Rose’s vampirism, the baby is seemingly growing at a slower pace than a normal human fetus. He reasons that Rose’s body needs more time to acclimate to the little one considering she technically isn’t aging as the pregnancy progresses.

Rose doesn’t mind, though. She loves being pregnant, and she now has more time to prepare for the baby… This also means there’s more time to shop for and wear fashionable maternity clothes. Rose and Alice going shopping is an all day event. Rose feels so proud as she walks around in stores, knowing people will be able to tell she’s expecting just by what she’s browsing for.

You take the time that Rose spends shopping to start setting up a nursery. Esme is in charge of the theme and color, though. (You wouldn’t dare get in the way of her vision). She’s going to be a grandma for crying out loud. You want to let her have her fun.

Esme finally settles on a gentle forest theme. The walls are covered with adorable critters she hand paints herself. It’s going to be a surprise for Rose, so she hasn’t seen what it looks like yet.

You, Jasper, Edward, and Emmet feverishly put baby furniture together, wanting everything to be perfect, but… The crib has all four of you confused. It has like a million different pieces. Jasper may have had to send calming waves a few times to keep you all from getting into a fight. Finally, you all manage to get it together. After a few apologies for name-calling and insults, it’s all water under the bridge. The guys are glad they were able to help you out.

You hope the final piece that you add will be Rose’s favorite. You created a rocking chair just for her. You can imagine her rocking the baby when they wake up in the middle of the night and it makes you feel so mushy.

When the room is finally finished, you lead Rose to the nursery as you keep your hand over her eyes. You open the door and walk in. “Okay, Rosie. Ready?” You ask.

Rose grins. “Of course, baby! I’m so excited!” She gushes.

You smile. “Alright, 1,2,3!” You say and take your hand away.

Rose opens her eyes and she’s speechless. It’s… Gorgeous. The walls, the furniture… And, of course, the rocking chair. Rose goes over to look at it closer. “Y/N… Did you make this?” She asks in awe.

“Um, yeah.” You say, scratching your neck in embarrassment. “It’s a present just for you, Rosie.”

Rose has silent tears running down her face as she looks at it. You did an incredible job… In fact, Rose’s new favorite activity is rocking in it as she talks to the baby.

Often, she’ll go into the nursery at night while you’re sleeping and spend some time one-on-one with the baby. It soothes her and she wants them to start recognizing her voice.

“You are so loved, little one.” She tells them one evening as she rocks gently and rubs her belly. “You are a dream come true for mommy.” She says. “Your other parent absolutely adores you as well.” She continues with a soft laugh at how protective you are of them both. “We’ll have to keep them on track, but they try their hardest.” Rose says with a fond smile as she thinks of your kind, but usually scattered, personality. You melted her frozen heart and taught her how to love deeply. For that, she’ll always be grateful.

Around the third month of her pregnancy, Rose is disappointed that she hasn’t seen much of a change in her body. (Except for her hips and breasts becoming a bit more voluptuous. That’s made you happy, at least).

One day, Rose is ecstatic when she finally sees what she is looking for. A definite, but tiny, bump has appeared. She cries at this. A lot.

You hear her weeping from the other room and run in to see what’s wrong. You wrap Rose in your arms and ask her what’s going on, but she just goes and stands in front of you as she lifts her shirt up, letting you see her belly.

You gasp at the little bump and kneel in front of her before you eagerly reach out to place your palm on her stomach. Now you feel like crying.

Rose puts her hand over yours and smiles playfully at you. “Well, well. Big, strong Y/N getting all sappy.” She teases.

You blush and hide your face on her tummy.

Rose giggles and runs her hand through your hair. She’s delighted to see you so happy. She knows that you’re loving this experience just as much as she is.

Both of your lives are about to change for the better and you two can’t wait to be parents… You just hope Rose doesn’t totally crush your hand when she’s in labor…

Masterlist

#rosalie hale #twilight #twilight saga #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie hale x y/n #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #twilight imagine

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Imagines Edition: Sweet Sixteen

for all of those that have been asking for the little mouse origin <3

warnings: swearing, i think that's it? it's very fluffy!

word count: 3.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST

It was a week before your and Jack’s sixteenth birthday. The one you’ve been waiting for since you turned thirteen and realized that sixteen is the next big milestone. 

The best part about your birthday coming is that Quinn will be flying back home for the day. It’s been over two months since you last saw him for his spring break, so you were having some serious best friend withdrawals.

“It’s too far away, Quintin!” you whined into your phone. “You should ditch your other finals and come early.” 

“Mom might kill me if I do that, Sissy,” Quinn laughed. “I’ll be there as early as I can; I promise.” 

You talked to Quinn for a while before he had to go to class, so you figured it was now or never to ask him the question you’ve been holding in for weeks. 

“Wait! Before you go, I got a favor to ask you,” you blurted out. 

“And what’s that?”

“Could you… could you ask Matthew to come? And you can bring Brady if you want so he can see his brother but I haven’t seen Matthew in a long time and I miss—“

“Sissy!” Quinn cut you off laughing. “I can ask him, I think he’s still in Calgary before going home for the summer since they got knocked out of the playoffs. I can’t promise anything, but I can promise that I’ll ask. I’ll ask Brady, too.” 

You started beaming. You put yourself on mute and let out an excited squeal really quick before unmuting to thank Quinn. 

“I really need to go now, Sissy, I love you! Don’t be too bad.”

“I love you, too, Quinny. And no promises!”

“That sounds about right,” Quinn laughed. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You got out of bed and squealed in excitement some more, dancing and jumping around your room as you did so. 

Jack threw open the door with a bewildered look on his face, “What’s got you so giddy?” 

“Quinn’s gonna ask Matthew if he’ll come to my birthday!” you told him. 

“Our birthday,” Jack corrected you. “Are you sure you want that? You tend to embarrass yourself around him.”

“I’ll be sixteen, Jacky Boy, I’ve grown up,” you told him smugly. 

Jack rolled his eyes as he turned around to leave your room, “Whatever you say!” 

Okay, maybe you’re still that same thirteen year old girl who practically followed Matthew around like a lost puppy when you first met him over two years ago. And maybe you’re still the girl that got his jersey as the first NHL jersey you bought yourself. So what? You’re older now, and more mature, and can definitely control yourself in front of the hottest guy you’ve ever seen because he is older than you, and you do not have a shot. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be excited at the prospect of him coming to your birthday party! 

As the days went by, you tried to not let yourself get too let down at the fact that Quinn doesn’t know for sure if Matthew could come. You understand, he has responsibilities. But his season is over so you aren’t sure what they are. Not that they’re any of your business– you’d just like his reasoning. 

Quinn and Brady arrived the day before your and Jack’s birthday and you couldn’t have been more excited to see them. More specifically Quinn, because you and Brady aren’t that close. The second you heard the door opening, you bolted out of your seat on the couch and ran towards the front of the house. 

“Quinny!” 

Quinn dropped his duffel and held his arms wide open, lifting your feet off the ground as he spun you around.

“I missed you, too, Sissy,” he laughed. You didn’t loosen your hold around his neck when your feet touched the ground. Instead, you just let your head lay on his chest, content that he was back within hugging distance. “You gonna let go?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, tightening the hug. 

“Didn’t think so,” Quinn laughed. He bent down and picked you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist, shifted you to the left, and continued to walk into the living room to say hello to everyone else. “I think we know the drill by now.”

The “drill” being everyone else in the family had to hug him from the side you weren’t being held on and could get their real hugs in when you were content. 

“Welcome home, Quinny,” Jack smiled. “Glad you’re here.”

“I couldn’t miss your sixteenth birthday,” Quinn smiled back. “Or this one’s.”

“She would’ve somehow found her way to you if you tried to,” Ellen teased you. 

The rest of the afternoon was filled with storytelling and catching up, a three on three street hockey game with you as the ref (Ellen, Brady, and Quinn versus Jack, Luke, and Jim), seemingly endless amounts of pizza, and some death threats over Uno. Jim and Ellen called it a night around ten, so the rest of you went upstairs to the game room, aka where your bed resides in the corner. 

“Chel tournament?” Luke suggested. 

Your eyes lit up at the opportunity to beat the boys again since you tragically lost every round of Uno from them ganging up on you. 

“Game on, boys,” you said menacingly. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

“I don’t know about losing, but I’m ready to hear what insults you come up with when you lose,” Brady said. 

“Don’t worry, she uses them when she’s winning, too,” Quinn joked. 

After way too many games, because god forbid it just be five games to determine a winner, it was you versus Jack in the final. 

“You ready to cry like a girl?” he smirked.

“I will shove this controller up your ass in your sleep,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“You’re such a sweet girl,” Brady laughed. “I can see why everyone loves you.”

“There’s more than one controller, Braeden,” you said in the same way you spoke to Jack. Brady held his hands up in surrender and backed away to sit next to Luke on the couch. 

You and Jack were playing pretty equal compared to the other. Jack was playing as Crosby, and you were playing as McDavid, only you were proving to have better skills tonight with a controller. The round was coming to an end. If you make one more goal, you’d be declared the winner. Jack was on top of your back, trying to get you to mess up, but you were too good to be deterred by his nonsense. The second that puck hit the back of the net and the video game McDavid did his celly, you stood up with your arms in air, causing Jack to land on his back on the floor, and copied the celly he always does when he scores. 

“No!” Jack screamed. “How did you get this good?!”

“What else do you think I do when I’m here and you’re at hockey practice?!”

“I don’t know! Read?!”

“Do you see any books around?!”

Jack walked away and drew back the curtain surrounding your bed and face planted diagonally on the mattress. You followed and landed directly on him so that your back was on top of his, making him groan. He shot up quickly, sending you to the ground this time, and sat on top of you. You immediately started to fight with him to get him off, but he held your arms down above your head. You jerked around until you finally loosened his grip enough to propel yourself forward and got him on his back.

“Look at you two, almost sixteen and still acting like you could kill each other,” Quinn said in a fake adoring voice. “I could cry.”

Quinn mentioning the fact that you were almost sixteen stopped the fighting. You scurried off of Jack, messing up his hair as you did, and ran to check your phone that was at the other side of the room. 

“11:56,” you said, looking at Jack excitedly. 

Jack didn’t say anything, he just bolted off to his room to get your present, and you went to Quinn’s to get his. You both vaguely knew what the presents were, it was just a matter of what they looked like. 

The tradition of the same present every year started when you two turned six. Jack had remembered that you shared the same birthday, and being the sweet boy that he was, he asked his mom if he could get you a present. You also remembered, but your parents told you that they didn’t have any money. While Jack was at hockey practice with Jim, you walked over to the Hughes house in tears. Ellen answered the door and immediately let you in and asked you what was wrong. You bawled as you told her that you couldn’t get Jack a birthday present and really wanted to. Being the good mother to you back then as she is now, she took you to the store. 

The simple answer was a hockey puck, but you frowned when you discovered that they were all boring black ones. You wanted Jack to have a pretty one, since he always loved the drawings you drew. Ellen came up with the idea of using paint markers to color the hockey puck so that you could make it just like your drawings. You were thrilled with the idea, so she got some pucks, markers, and a case to display it in. 

You talked to her while you colored the hockey puck at her kitchen table, trying to hurry and get it done before Jack and Jim got home. You wrote your initial and a J on it, with BFF underneath it. Around it were stars and dots, covering every other inch of the puck. Ellen put the puck in the clear case and wrapped it up for you, letting you stick a ribbon on top. She told you that she’d keep it nice and safe and that you could give it to Jack when you came over for breakfast the next morning. 

Jack had gotten you a pink plastic charm bracelet with a bedazzled J as the only charm because Claire’s didn’t have one with yours. Ellen had tried to get him to pick out something else, but he was hellbent on it. He said that it was for when you got sad and couldn’t come over to see him, you’d still have him. Ellen almost cried on the spot when she heard something that sweet come from her son. So she bought it, wrapped it, and stashed it.

Since you both loved each other’s presents so much, neither one of you could figure out what to get each other the next year other than the same thing. Ellen was on board, but had you both alter the presents. You used your paint markers to draw a yellow jersey with an 87 on it for Crosby since he was one of Jack’s favorite players, and Jack got you two charms from the craft store to add to your charm bracelet that you wore every day– pink bedazzled charm in the shape of your initial, and a green star. He hated the fact that you watched the Stars win one game while you were over and chose them as your favorite team, but he was taught to be nice about it. 

The tradition stayed the same as you two got older. Eventually your charm bracelet was so full that he had to get you a second one. When you turned thirteen, a sterling silver one replaced the plastic ones because of some mean comments the other girls were making. You still kept the two pink ones in a shadow box. And your artist skills got better. Your stars and polka dots surrounding numbers and initials turned into accurate and detailed drawings of helmets or goalposts, which later turned into paintings of a goalie in his net, or a player’s back shooting a goal. 

This year, you two had to go above and beyond. Sixteen is a big deal, so the presents needed to be a big deal. You’ve spent weeks painting Jack’s puck, and you went through two just to get it perfect. Your art teacher in school has helped develop your skills and it’s really starting to show. 

You and Jack sat right next to each other on the edge of your bed with your presents from each other in your laps. Quinn had a countdown open on his laptop so that you could start to open them as soon as the clock struck twelve. You were going first this year, and at sixteen seconds past midnight, your eyes started to tear up at the charms Jack had gotten you this year. 

“So the UMich logo is for Quinn, since that’s where he’ll be going next year,” Jack began to explain. “And then the L charm has sapphires for Luke since you don’t have a charm for him on this bracelet yet.”

“Jack,” you breathed. “They’re beautiful, I love them. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, you sap,” he said as you hugged him. “My turn!”

Jack ripped off the wrapping paper off of the display case of his puck, and his jaw dropped to the ground at the sight. 

“Is that…”

“It’s the outdoor rink where you taught me how to shoot a puck,” you finished for him. 

On the puck was a painting of the outdoor rink in Nathan Phillip’s Square. The three arches with stars dangling down were drawn as if you were standing on the rink, looking out at them from below. Painted smaller to look far away was a goal post, and behind it were some of the buildings that surrounded the area, only simplified without all the architectural exterior. It was the view you remember seeing at six years old when the Hughes family took you all out early one morning to skate when no one was there. You’ve been back hundreds of times now, but this memory sticks out above all the rest. You weren’t taught to skate at a toddler age, so you got taught by Jim and Ellen a few months after you started going over to their house. A year later, Jack decided he wanted to teach you how to shoot a puck. 

“Sissy this is amazing,” Jack said in awe. “Guys, come look at this!”

Brady stayed behind as Quinn and Luke joined you two on the bed. Quinn sat next to Jack, and Luke got behind you all to look over Jack’s shoulder.

“Holy shit!” Luke exclaimed. 

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Sissy. This is beautiful,” Quinn complimented. 

“You like it?”

“Like it?! Y/N, I love this. This is your best piece of work you’ve ever done Thank you,” Jack said. 

“You’re welcome, you sap.”

None of you went to sleep until well past two in the morning, and it ended up with all five of you sleeping in the game room. You and Jack shared your bed, Quinn took the couch, and Luke and Brady were sprawled out across the floor. Ellen came to wake you all up a little after nine for breakfast, a.k.a a buffet of chocolate chip pancakes and various breakfast sides. 

“Look at my babies all grown up!” Ellen gleed as she wrapped you and Jack up in a hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you!” you and Jack said in sync.

“That was creepy,” Brady said. 

“It’s a twin thing,” you said with a wink. 

“Happy birthday you two!” Jim greeted you when he came out of the master bedroom. 

“Thank you!” you both said in sync again.

After breakfast, you all left the table to go get ready for the party. You two mostly had the same friends, and he had some guys from his hockey team come as well that you weren’t really close with. But you invited some girls from your art class that Jack didn’t know too well, so it worked out. You both made it clear to everyone that you weren’t expecting gifts and just wanted to have a good time at a party. Your close friends did get you some, and you loved every last one. Obviously, it wasn’t a high school party with drinks and what not, but that didn’t make the whole event any less crazy. 

Jim and Ellen let you all be for the most part. Once everyone leaves is when you have your family birthday with presents and just a calm evening in the backyard around a bonfire. It was kind of a free for all. There were many girls versus boys street hockey games, even some mini sticks up stairs. There wasn’t a set itinerary and it mostly felt like a normal afternoon with all your friends with video games and card games and anything anyone could think of doing. You had a good enough time to forget that Matthew wasn’t there, but there was still a small pang inside you. Quinn said he’d try but that he couldn’t promise anything, so you tried to not be too let down. 

Once everyone cleared out, your family plus Brady were all gathered around the living room for more presents. 

“Open mine first!” Luke shouted, practically throwing gift boxes at you and Jack. 

Luke had gotten Jack a new UMich hoodie, which he immediately put on and was pleased with the softness, and you were given two lighters. The first one was a normal bic lighter personalized to have a picture with Luke’s face on it, and the other looked like a stack of cards with an ace of hearts on top. 

“Oh my god I got lighters!” you cheered. 

“Use the cards one!” Luke urged. 

You slid over the card and instead of a normal flame, it was colored, “OH MY GOD IT’S GREEN!” 

The room laughed at how giddy you were over the lighters, and Luke jokingly acted like he hated being smothered by your hug. 

“You got our criminally insane sister lighter?!” Quinn teased. “She’s going to set us on fire!”

“And you, Quintin, will be my first victim,” you said in a serious voice. “I’ll just casually set you on fire with my Luke lighters. Out of love, of course,”

“How thoughtful.” 

The rest of the reactions to the present were met with the same excitement and gratitude. Jim and Ellen got you some new paints and Jack some new video games. Quinn got Jack some new hockey gear and you a Stars hoodie, and Brady had gotten you a drawing notebook with some pens and pencils and Jack a Batman skinned controller. 

“Good birthday?” Jim asked.

“A very good birthday, thank you,” you said.

“It’s been amazing,” Jack added.

A knock at the door caught you off guard. You already ate, so it couldn’t be a food delivery. And you never get any solicitors. Everyone in the room shared a knowing look, making you even more confused.

“I’ll get it,” Quinn said. You sat on your knees on the couch to get a better look to see who was at the door. 

“Matthew!” you shouted. You tried to hop over the couch to go talk to him, but instead fell right over it and landed on your face. The boys did try and stifle their cackles, but even you couldn’t blame them. You tend to laugh with them when you’re clumsy, but in front of Matthew? You were extremely embarrassed. What helped was the fact that Matthew didn’t laugh. 

Matthew walked over to you and held out a hand to you to help you off the ground, “Are you alright, birthday girl?”

You tried to brush the hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ears to try and look like you didn’t just tumble to the ground, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you.”

“That’s good, because now I can give you this,” Matthew said, bringing his other hand around from behind his back to reveal a singular red rose. “It’s not much, but Quinn assured me that you’d love it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up even more. You’ve never been given flowers, and something about a singular rose felt a lot more personal than a whole bouquet. You brought it up to your face and felt your body relax at the scent.

“I do love it. Thank you, Matthew,” you said sincerely. Matthew smiled and brought you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist and tried to soak it all in. Okay, so the part of you that was crushing madly on him at thirteen is evidently still burning strong. 

“I would’ve come over earlier, but Quinn and I thought having an NHL player at your birthday party might draw the attention away from you two,” Matthew explained.

“I think I like it better this way,” you said. 

You all made room for Matthew in the living room, with you sitting directly next to him. Lucky for you, it was a tight fit with four of you on the couch (you, Jack, Matthew, and Luke) so you were sitting pretty close to Matthew. He talked about his season, and you were all soaking up every single word. You’ve loved watching him go from the London Knights to the NHL and hearing about all the parts he’s loved about playing made you so happy.

“Alright, I gotta ask. Why do they call you a rat?” Jack asked. “I see it all over twitter.”

“Because he’s a pest on and off the ice,” Brady joked. “Ratty suits him.”

“But they also call you Chucky and Chucky is a mouse!” you pointed out. 

“Mouse is too cutesy for him,” Brady said.

“It’s alright,” Matthew chuckled. “I kinda like it. It’s funny! Go on, Y/N, say it.”

“Ratty,” you said, and started to giggle after. It was a little funny. 

“I told you!”

“I need my own version!” you exclaimed. “Everyone gets a nickname by me.”

“What are you thinking for me?”

You pondered for a moment, “I’ll call you Matty Ratty. I still protest about the mouse thing, but I guess it doesn’t really fit you.”

“I’ll call you my Little Mouse,” Matthew said. “You fit the cutesy nickname more than I do.”

The biggest smile you’ve had today made its way to your face. His Little Mouse. A nickname just for him to use. 

“I love it,” you told him. 

Matthew nudged your shoulder with his, “Happy birthday, Little Mouse.”

“Thank you, Matty Ratty.”

“Oh! And happy birthday to you, too, Jack!”

“It’s about time!” Jack laughed. “Thanks, Matthew.”

“I think it’s time for Matty to experience playing a game of Uno with Y/N,” Quinn said. “She won’t be so cute then.”

“Shut up, Quintin!” you protested. You eyed the deck of cards in the TV stand across from you and couldn’t resist a redemption. “Alright, screw it! Bring it on!”

Quinn ran to get the cards and began to shuffle them and deal them out. You all moved to the table so that you couldn’t see each other’s cards. 

Jack’s hand hovered over the pile in the middle of the table, “Ready?”

“Flip it over, Jackson!” you shouted at him.

“Happy Hunger Games, everybody! Let the games begin.”

#penalty box series #penalty box series: imagines #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #hockey imagine

[seenoversundown]

Succulent

Sam x Fem OC

Warnings: 18+ Smut (Minors DNI) Praise Kink, Edging, mentions of Choking (very mild) Dom Sam, Oral (F & M receiving) Fingering, Penetrative sex, Cockwarming, Degradation in the form of condescension, Spanking (if you squint) , and finally some fluff.

Word Count: 6.3k

Author's Note: Just a little treat for you hehe 🤭 Enjoy!

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Succulent (adjective) (of food) tender, juicy, and tasty

Birdie POV

“I’m so excited.” I’m giddy with anticipation in the front seat of Sam’s new truck, a Toyota Tundra he named ‘Mr. Big’ after the character in Zootopia. He tried to stick it out as long as he could with Edith, poor guy, but she gave up all on her own. Though I have to say, I much preferred Edith over Mr. Big. I think I just get nostalgic for all the adventures we took with her. 

The three hour journey has been a lengthy one, but with the long winding road coming into view, I know we're close. I’ve never been to Stowe, Vermont before but I know it's a popular vacation spot. Vermont lends a same outdoorsy feel as home while not being too far away, the perfect getaway spot. Sam reaches a hand across the console and takes mine in his, my heart squeezing along with the pressure of his fingers. I can’t help but stare at him. We’ve made it so far over the last, almost two years. Learning so much from each other, testing each other, pushing each other. God, we’re so ingrained in the very make-up of each other at this point I forget we haven’t even celebrated our second anniversary yet.

“I think this is it.”

We pull into a long driveway and up to a gorgeous natural wood cabin with a two-car garage. There are windows on either side of the chimney who’s brick is exposed to the outside, oh there’s a fireplace, and a porch that runs the length of the house. Fresh snow adorns the large yard, and I just know that the view from the inside is going to be so beautiful in the morning. 

“Oh, Sammy. This is incredible!” I exclaim. I scoot to the edge of my seat, trying to get a better view. 

“Wait til you see the inside, there’s 3 bedrooms and a sauna,” shooting me a wink before putting the truck in park. 

“A sauna, huh?” I lean an elbow on the center console and pull him in for a slow kiss by the front of his jacket. “I’m definitely getting some use out of that.” I press another quick kiss to his lips before I unbuckle my seatbelt. Sam slides out of the truck and grabs our bags from the back seat, tossing both backpacks, one on top of each other, over his shoulder. I exit the truck and meet him around the front; he pulls me close to his chest, both of us trying to preserve a bit of warmth now that the biting winter air has surrounded us. 

“It’s ours for the whole week,” he whispers into my hair, pressing his lips to my temple. “Just the two of us.”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” I head toward the entryway pulling him by the arm. 

Once the door is closed, we take a left through the tiny hallway, the same natural wood as the outside covering the walls. Sam sets down our bags, sticking his head in each door, trying to get a feel for the place. 

“These are the spares and the main floor bathroom. The Master bed is upstairs and has a loft area I think.” He takes my hand again, his hand warm around my chilly one. I’m forever thankful that he’s a very hot-blooded individual. “Yeah, it’s through here.”

We walk past a set of stairs on the left and the kitchen on the right. I can feel the enthusiasm radiating off of him like a solar flare as he tries to scope out each corner before I get a chance to catch up to him. 

“Look at the view, Birdie!” he beams, eyes bright and arms wide open. “There’s a breakfast bar for our mornings and the fireplace to keep us toasty, though I’m not sure we’ll need help in that department.” He points around the living room. I keep a comment about the terrifying bear skin located above said fireplace to myself. 

“I definitely don’t, I have you to keep me warm.” I meet him in the middle of the floor and slide my arms around his middle, locking my hands behind his back. He rubs at my shoulders. “That’s right,” he says, placing an innocent kiss to my nose. “But we’re still going to use it.” We pull apart from each other so he can continue the tour despite both of us never having been here before. 

“I would never rob you of such a joy then. Proceed, kind sir.” I tease in a slight British accent, making a small bow. When we reach the top of the stairs we come to the small loft area, complete with a lovely day bed by a window that the sun peaks through. We step forward through the set of doors, passing the bathroom, and into the Master bedroom. 

“This.. is the master bedroom. But the best part,” he doubles back to the bathroom, opening the door wide and stepping inside to make room for me to follow.

 “The sauna is in our bathroom.” My eyes light up. He hums out an encouragement, tugging me back into his body by my wrist. I hit him with a light thud. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you in there.” He growls lowly into my ear. My breath hitches in my throat, and immediately, my cheeks start to flush. His words hit me entirely to my core, and I resist the urge to press my legs together for relief. I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten to me this early in the trip, not when we have a whole week ahead of us. 

“So what’s on the itinerary for tonight then?” I inquire, head tilted up so I can stare into his chestnut eyes. 

“I’m so glad you asked my little bird.” He takes my hand in his, once again leading me toward the living room. “Once I grab the cooler from Mr. Big, I’ll pour you a glass of wine, and you can get relaxed, while I cook dinner. We can set up by the fire and eat on the floor like all romantic movies do in log cabins in the woods.” He brushes the hair out of his face and chuckles a bit. “I even packed that nice fuzzy blanket you love so much. It’ll be like our own romantic indoor picnic,” he continues.

“Wow, Sammy. You thought of everything, didn't you.” A swell of pride thrums through my chest. 

Something I’ve learned over my time with Sam is that he always means well, even if his execution isn’t the best. And trust me, there have been some poor executions. Each mishap more endearing than the last, but this time, it really seems like he’s gotten the hang of the romance thing. 

“Gunna be honest with you. I asked every single one of my brothers for advice and did a lot of studying.” he huffs out a slightly uncomfortable laugh and scratches at the back of his neck. 

“Studying? What does studying mean?” I giggle. 

“Well, your job has sent you on a couple trips this last month. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Daniel has his hands full with the girls, Josh and Jake are always busy. Bar stuff or whatever.” He shifts awkwardly between his feet. “I just.. watched a lot of romcoms and romance movies. Ya know, the kind you always like to watch.” he does a little double snap clap with his hands. 

I bark out a loud laugh and clutch my tummy. Oh, I love him. 

“Hey!” he says a bit defensively.

“I’m not laughing AT you, Babe. I promise. That’s just the cutest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me. C’mere,” I hold my arms out for him to fit between. “Thank you. This week is going to be perfect no matter what. But the effort you’re making means the most to me, you know that.” I hug him tightly, hoping to convey just how appreciative I am. 

No one has ever loved me the way he has. His love is messy and goofy. His love is filled with laughter and childlike wonder.  Adventure and weekend trips. Nights snuggled on the couch and days when we don’t leave bed. Kisses peppered on cheeks and hips gripped mean. Arguments that end wrapped around each other because despite falling madly in love, we still try to get under each other's skin for fun. He has my entire heart, and I can’t bear the thought of my life being any other way. 

“Now go get that cooler,” I slap his butt lightly. “I’m ready for some wine.”

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As I sip my wine and warm my toes by the fire, I look over my shoulder at Sam who’s slaving away in the kitchen. 

“Do I get a hint?” I call over to him. He looks so cute, a dish rag slung over his shoulder, face knit in concentration. The cream cable-knit sweater he dons was a personal request of mine. He agreed on the pretense that I would wear the red sweater he loves so much. At least we’re on theme for the holiday. 

“No,” he says plainly, clearly focused. 

“Oh, that’s no fun.” I turn and kneel backward on the couch, giving him my best pout, trying to distract him. His eyes dart to me before falling back to his work, he smiles wide. 

“You’re cheating. You know I can’t resist that face.” He steals another glance at me. 

“I’m doing no such thing.” I protest. “I am simply inquiring about what my boyfriend is making me to eat.” I hop off the couch, setting my glass on the coffee table. I meet him in the kitchen, sneaking my arms around his waist and firmly planting my cheek against his back. He moves a little slower with me clinging to him but he doesn’t shoo me away, just lightly pats my wrist with one of his hands and continues to work. I take in a deep breath, inhaling the aromas from the meal. 

“It smells good, babe.” I hop onto the free bit of counter beside him. He puts the lid back on the pan and turns his attention to me. 

“It needs to simmer for a few minutes.” He winks at me, delicately fitting between my legs, his hands sliding up the fabric of my leggings before settling on my hips. I giggle, and he scoots me to the edge, bringing me closer to his body. I place my hands on the nape of his neck, sliding my fingers through the hair he’s messily tucked into a bun. I tug gently, and his mouth opens, and eyes close. Why does he have to be so pretty? It's moments when he looks like this that I wish I could take photos with my mind. What I wouldn’t give to take that photo out on a rainy day…

I lean in and close the gap between us, our lips meeting in a sweet kiss. Not urgent or needy. The kind of kiss where you simply tell each other how full your heart is. 

He hums against my mouth. “Mm, if you distract me, I’ll burn the food.”

I pepper kisses along his cheek and jaw, and he reaches over to tend to the pan. “Can you please gimme a hint?”

“And ruin the surprise?” His arm moves, stirring whatever he’s making with a wooden spoon. As easy as it would be for me to just look over, I'm too distracted by nibbling at his ear to bother trying to sneak a peek. 

“Come on, baby,” I whisper seductively in his ear. I plant a kiss on any expanse of skin I reach, repeating the word please over and over again until… He gives in. I feel his throat swallow beneath my touch.

“Remember the first time we went out together?” He gently clears his throat.

“On our first date? Yeah, you took–”

“No, the first time we ate together at a restaurant. Where we went.” he cuts me off. I can see the amusement settle on his face as he sees me try to look through the filing cabinet in my brain. 

Oh. 

“You took me to the cheese place.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, the cheese place.” He laughs. “You ordered the mushroom risotto, and you loved it. I figured since we haven’t actually been back..” he trails off.

I leave him to finish cooking, suddenly very excited for our meal now that I know what we’re having. Instead, I rearrange the living room to make a spot for us to eat. I move the coffee table off to the side, freeing up the space in front of the fireplace. Digging through the other bag Sam packed for us, and finding my favorite cream colored fuzzy throw blanket. Big enough for all nearly six feet of him and myself to fit under when we cuddle on the couch. I grab the coasters for our drinks, setting them on the hearth, and plop a couple pillows for us to sit on. Mostly for me because I apparently have a ‘bony ass,’ according to him. By the time that I’ve got everything settled Sam is walking through the living room with two bowls, one in each hand. He sets them on the hearth, grabbing my glass and running off to the kitchen for a refill. 

“Here you go, Birdie,” he says, handing me my glass and sitting down in front of me.

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“God, that was so good.” I rub at my tummy. He smiles at me over the top of his glass as he sips his wine. “This has been a really good start to our mini vacation.” A much needed vacation if I’m being honest. I feel like I’ve hardly spent any time with him this month. He reaches out, placing his palm on my cheek. Stroking his thumb along my cheekbone. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, baby.” He says sweetly. And I am. So fucking happy I didn’t think it was possible. I adjust on my pillow, kicking my legs out in front of me and rubbing my feet against his legs. His hand finds my ankle rubbing smooth circles on the tiny patch of skin he finds. 

“I hope you saved room for dessert.” He says, his fingers delicately sliding up my leg. 

“There’s dessert? Why didn’t you tell me that before.” I set my glass down on the hearth and scoot closer to him. His fingertips slide up the inside of my thigh. 

“Of course, there’s dessert. You think I’d make you a lovely dinner and not have dessert too?” He teases, his fingers dangerously close to my core. I smile in satisfaction, his hands feeling too good as they dance over me. He pulls me in for a short kiss. “I really think you’re gonna love what I have planned.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” His fingers find the hem of my sweater, and he pulls it over my head. Revealing the dusty pink floral lace bra I’m wearing. He stares at me for a moment. Taking me in. 

“Lie back, babygirl,” he instructs, using a nickname he’s reserved only for intimacy. I do as I’m told, as all good girls do, and connect with the plush blanket laid beneath us. I can still feel the warmth of the fire heating my left side, though after time spent for dinner, it has dimmed a bit. Like our own personal, romantic light setting. I stretch my arms out above my head and close my eyes, waiting. He grabs the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down my legs and tossing it to the side. 

“God, you look good enough to eat.” He spreads my legs and sits on his knees between mine. “But you know that, don’t you?” I can feel his eyes of admiration on me. Like an invisible touch skimming down my body over every curve and divot. I anticipate his touch, resisting the urge to open my eyes. I try to guess where his hands will land when he does finally decide to reach out and touch me. Sam loves the game, though, the cat and mouse before the main act. And the cocky tone of his voice gets me going every time. 

“Words, Baby.” He demands. The rush of pressure I feel between my legs at that moment is my favorite part of being with Sam. My heart pounds in my ribcage.

“Yes.” I squeak out. “I wanted to look good for you.” Every second he delays touching me my breath quickens. The sound of his pants against the blanket causes my stomach to flip. The cool air coming with whatever movement he’s making sends a chill down my spine, and goosebumps to appear on my skin. I hear the soft thud of what I hope is his sweater. Please be shirtless, please be shirtless. Even after all this time, the sight of him still makes me salivate.

A delicate hand caresses my thigh, and I twitch slightly at the unexpected touch. 

“You did such a good job for me.” His sweet praise is music to my ears as his fingers glide toward my hip. “Look at you, so beautiful and laid out for me. Ready for me to take when I want.” He squeezes gently when he reaches his destination, and the cocky laugh that follows sends a flood of arousal to my core. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to me tonight?” I smile ear to ear and nod emphatically. 

“Good.” He continues. He catches the hem of my panties with his pointer finger and follows along the edge of the blush-pink colored lace. When he reaches where I most desire him, he puts pressure along my pussy with the back of his finger and then snaps the fabric. The sharp sting is welcomed, but the absence of his touch makes me whine audibly. 

He places each hand on the floor next to my shoulders, hovering over me. As he runs his nose up the length of my neck, he opens his mouth to breathe hot air in its wake.  “So needy already?” He asks when he reaches my ear. “But I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please,” I beg. Knowing it’s what he wants to hear, but not holding out hope for my favor. 

“Please, what, baby?” The husky tone of his voice sends a chill down my spine. He reaches his tongue out and flicks at my earlobe.

“Fuck me. Please.” My face scrunches in another desperate whine.

He tuts quietly, “I’m only getting started, baby.” 

I know as soon as the words leave his lips that I’m in for a long night. A slow form of torture that I’ll be thankful for come the morning.

He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels. He taps my hip, signaling me to raise them, and he hooks his fingers under the lace of my underwear, sliding it down the length of my legs, discarding the material next to his shirt. Placing both hands on each respective knee, he spreads me wide, and his mouth drops open at the sight of me. My eyes fall to his plush, rosy lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, running his tongue along his top lip. “Good enough to eat, indeed.”

Sam settles on his stomach, his left arm hooking around my leg. I hum at the heated contact of his palm, splayed across my lower abdomen. I can feel the cool air hit my dripping pussy as he takes slow breaths, plotting my demise. He lets out another arrogant laugh, no doubt satisfied at how I glisten by the firelight. 

He rests his head against my thigh, now purposeful with the air he blows on me. I shudder a little, letting out a tiny gasp of air. The throbbing between my legs is so intense I can practically feel it in my throat. I swallow thickly. His free hand dances up the inside of the thigh he’s not resting against, his mouth open with a slight smile. Oh the fun he’s having, like I’m his own personal plaything. I would do anything to make him happy if it meant I experience this continued arousal. He tickles back and forth over the crease of my groin. So close and yet just far enough away from where I want him. No, where I need him. I bite my lip to try and center myself. 

He finally makes contact with me, dragging his middle finger tantalizingly slow down the center of my pussy. My teeth sink into my lip so hard I nearly draw blood when the pressure reaches my clit; he continues until he meets where my wetness is pooling for him. He takes a moment to thoroughly coat the tip of his finger before he pops it into his mouth, savoring the taste of me.

“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. And you taste so fucking good. How did that happen?” He teases, but I don’t laugh. He reaches down, slowly inserting his first two fingers, but he doesn’t move them. 

His teasing is so torturous I cry out. The thrum of my heart beats around his fingers, and I clench, trying to coax him into movement. I should know better.

“I know, baby girl, I know. You’re going to listen to me, though, and you’ll get what you want.” He places a gentle kiss on my thigh, “I’ll give you everything you want.”

I shake my head, feeling around for the blanket to bunch in my palms, giving my hands something to do. 

“I’ve been thinking about dessert since we left, and I already know how sweet it is.” Sam continues his kisses, descending to my pussy. “I’m hungry, I think it’s time for a treat. I want you to relax for me, babygirl.” Everything his mouth is doing effectively distracts me from the fingers remaining stilled inside me. 

He places a gentle kiss to the top of my slit and begins his assault. Finally, he licks up the center of me, flicking my clit with just the tip of his tongue. I moan at the contact, all that build-up finally paying off. I squeeze around his fingers, attempting to speed up the race to the finish line..

And he stops. 

I whine at the loss of contact.

There’s always a game. 

I look down at his wicked grin. “I told you to relax, babygirl.” His playful tone is as arrogant as ever. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His brow furrows with his question, and his lips shine with the evidence of me. 

I nod slowly. 

“Good girls listen.” One eyebrow cocks toward his hairline. “Let’s try again.” 

Sam’s mouth is on me again, and I try to concentrate on breathing instead of the steady attack of his tongue against my clit. In fast, short licks, he slowly drives me to insanity. The heat of pleasure radiates over my body, a hot pulse running through me in waves. I will myself to calm down every time I start to tighten my walls, attempting to breathe and focus on something else, anything else. But the force of his tongue lapping at me is overriding my brain, and I can’t help myself. I clench hard in search of release, pulling the blanket clutched in my hands toward my chest for leverage in my chase. 

He stops once more. 

I groan out angrily and lay myself flat, resuming my original position.

“So needy and so pathetic. You can’t even handle it, can you?” 

When I don’t respond, he strokes his fingers inside me a few times, suddenly remembering their place inside me. I jolt up to my elbows, tightening my fists around the blanket I still clutch. The shock of a moment of pleasure settling in my stomach before dissipating. 

“You know I love to hear your pretty little voice, baby. Come on, use your words for me.”

I swallow before I beg for any amount of relief. “Please, Sammy. Please.” 

He slides his left hand up my stomach, a gentle push signaling me to lie back.

“When you learn to relax, you’ll be rewarded. The only thing standing in the way of that right now is you.”

This time, the forefinger and thumb come down and spread my lips open, exposing me to him fully.

“Come on, baby, I know you can do it.” He coaxes gently. He’s careful not to make contact with any other part of me, so the only thing I can feel is the tip of his tongue on my increasingly sensitive nub. Little beads of sweat start to collect around the nape of my neck from the struggle of self-control. The pleasure is so intense I fear I won’t be able to think straight for a week when I finally reach my release. My pussy starts to flutter gently around his fingers again; every time I twitch, I relax the muscles as best I can. 

“That’s it, baby.” He comes up for air long enough to utter his praise, and he’s descending again. Somehow the momentary break increases the tension slowly building in me. 

I tighten once more at his words and relax just as fast. I bite out quickly, “Don’t stop Sammy, please. I can do it.. I can do it.” my voice trails off. I work evening breath enough to let my orgasm ascend on its own without the encouragement of actions. 

He pulls back the hood of my clit with his thumb, and that’s the moment I begin to unravel completely. I yell out as I fight against my body's own natural instincts and the pleasure of it all; he continues the onslaught against my bundle of nerves, using the arm hooked around my leg to keep me in place. I writhe underneath his grasp as the tension finally snaps, my body going numb as my orgasm finally washes over every bit of me. My head clouds, and my body feels like it's floating. I immediately contract, my hands finding purchase in his hair, pulling tightly as the stimulation becomes too much. He moans against my pussy, causing me to jerk again. My voice echoes through the large living room. I reach my left hand out, meeting the brick of the hearth, trying to steady myself. He slows his movements, easing me out but still causing small ripples of pleasure with every affectionate lick and kiss of my pussy. I brush the tendrils sticking to my forehead out of my face and breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Good girls who listen get rewarded.” He says smugly, licking at his lips covered in my orgasm. He looks so sexy, god. I lunge at him, tackling him to his back. Landing in a hard thud against the soft blanket, I kiss him, needy and desperate. A surge of energy running through me from the adrenaline, followed by a wave of arousal as I taste myself on his lips. 

“You sound so sexy when you cum.” He says between my efforts to lap up every last remaining bit of myself still lingering on his mouth. “I’d put that on a loop for hours if I could.”

I cry out, “Oh god.” I start a path of kisses from his neck down his chest as he continues.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me listening to you cum over.. And over again? A little audio stored in my phone for me to listen to while I’m out?” 

I nod furiously against his soft stomach, the tiniest bit salty from the sweat we’ve worked up. I run my hand down over the front of his black sweats, feeling his length beneath my fingers.

“While I’m buying groceries?” I nod again; his fingers tangle themselves in my hair. 

“On my drive to work?” I nod once more, whining at his words. The sound of relief from his lips was enough to send my head spinning. He tugs at my roots just enough to hurt but still feel amazing. I work my way to the waistband of his joggers; I tug gently, exposing his hard length.

“No boxers?” I question teasingly. “Scandalous.” I laugh and press one last kiss to his stomach, taking a hold of him in my delicate hand. 

“Mmm.” He tilts his head back as my fingers run over him. “Your turn for dessert, baby. Open.” He demands, and I obey. I open wide and stick my tongue out, waiting for him. He takes full advantage of that by pulling the hair clutched in his hand and guiding me to his cock. I wrap my lips around him; the sound of his pleasure is music to my ears. I move in quick, even motions up and down his shaft, my hand making up for the part of him I can’t swallow. Paying attention to every upstroke, I flick my tongue around the head. One of his hands makes its way to my cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. 

“Just like that, fuck.” He moans, gripping my hair tighter and tighter, spurring me on. I bob my head faster as encouragement falls freely from his lips. My arousal pooling and dripping down my leg with every sound spilling from his mouth. God, the mouth on him. 

“You’re doing so good for me.” His hips start to jut, matching the movements of my mouth. Hands locked in my hair, he pulls my face to his base, pausing for a moment.

“Fuck.” he cries out and releases his grip. I come up for air, a trail of spit still linking us together as I catch my breath. My lungs working overdrive to make up for the loss of oxygen.

“I could fuck that mouth forever.” He says, and I let out a desperate whine.

“So do it.” 

I clamor my way back to his cock, desperately needing to taste him on my tongue again. I flatten my tongue and lick from base to tip and then wrap my lips around him. I lock eyes with him as I focus on the head, knowing how sensitive he is there. 

Sam’s nostrils flare, and he grunts out. The switch flipping in him that I needed. He’s always in control, but every once in a while, his feral side comes out. The uninhibited Sam that fucks me hard and rough, and god, if I don’t fucking need him right now. 

He sits up on his knees, kneeling before me. Yanking his sweatpants further down to his thighs, and grabs me, one hand planted on either side of my face, and bites out, “Open.” 

His cock slides into my mouth, his full length against my tongue, and he repeatedly meets the back of my throat. He shows me no mercy. His hands and hips taking control and working overdrive so I just sit there and take it. I gladly take everything that he gives me. Over and over again, my lips meet his pubic bone as he fucks my mouth. I reach for leverage, grabbing a hold of where his pants sit around his thighs. The repetition of ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips, calling my attention back to his face. His eyes bore into mine, and he pulls me off his dick. He lets out a yell of frustration; I know he’s holding back. Trying not to cum down my throat because the only place he cums is inside of me. ‘You’re mine, Birdie,’ he always tells me. 

“Hands.” He points to the hearth, and I hustle on my knees to place my palms on the warm stone. He unhooks my bra, somehow the only piece of my clothing left remaining. I bend over, sticking my ass out, waiting for his return. I peek over my shoulder, sneaking a glance at him as he shimmies out of his sweats. He kneels behind me and gently runs his hand over my ass, up my back, and settling on my shoulder. He pulls me to his chest. 

“Ready, babygirl,” he asks as he slides his hand around my throat, gripping gently, and I nod in response. His other hand curves around my body, grasping my breast in his palm. He gives it a rough squeeze before pinching my nipple. I suck in a breath through my teeth. 

“Good.” he lets out a little chuckle and soothes my bud between his fingers, gently rolling out the pain. His fingers glide delicately down my torso, and he cups my heat.

 “I’m gunna fuck this pretty cunt so good.” My mouth falls open, my head leaning back. Just as my head meets his shoulder, relaxing into his touch, he pushes me forward back to my hands. 

He notches his cock at my opening, both hands bracing me by the hips, and slowly enters me. I moan out at the pleasure of him slowly stretching me, and I silently thank god for the fact that we are isolated out here. I couldn’t be quiet even if I tried. 

The push and pull of his cock with each slow thrust softly warming me. I tilt my head back in pleasure as he starts to work up a rhythm. He delivers a hard smack against my ass, and I grip the stone hearth tighter, feeling the roughness under my palms. His hand rubbing at my cheek, soothing the sting. 

“You feel so fucking good.” Sam’s breathy tone giving him away. “So tight. You love the way my cock fills you up, don’t you?” I push back to meet his thrusts, hoping to get him there quicker, the desire to give him all the pleasure he gave me earlier, overcoming my need for anything else. 

“Yeah, you do. Look at you? So desperate. I bet if stopped moving, you’d fuck yourself right on my cock, huh?” 

His hand grips my hip tightly, and he pulls me back by my hair. His hand resuming his place around my neck, tightening his grip ever so slightly. Just enough to notice but not enough to restrict my oxygen. His other arm wraps around my middle steadying me for continued thrusts of his hips.

“You have no idea how badly I want that, babygirl. But I’m having too much fun listening to the sounds you make as I fuck you.” He lets out a wicked laugh. 

My jaw goes slack, and I bend my body more, allowing him deeper access with every thrust.  The new angle driving him into my G-spot, sending me reeling. The intensity builds in my stomach and I know Sam can feel it too. I reach a hand back tangling my hand in the hair gathered at his neck. He slides down, parting my lips and toying with my clit. Small tight circles coax me toward my end. Little by little, unraveling under his fingertips. I clench around his cock, and he knows I’m done for. 

“Come on, baby. Give it to me.” The sickly sweet tone of his voice in my ear sends a chill down my spine. I fight against the building pleasure, trying to hold out. My voice carries through the room, mixing with his heavy breath and the sound of our hips snapping together. Everything starts to become too much, and my muscles weaken; my hand falls to join his arm wrapped around me. Sam holds me tighter, keeping me steady against his chest. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Do it.” I let go completely, falling over the edge and succumbing to the pleasure of Sam’s cock. I moan out a broken repetition of his name, and he fucks me through my orgasm. I feel so full when he’s inside me like I never want to be anywhere else. He slows his hips, allowing me a moment of reprieve. Our heavy breaths move in unison as we try to calm ourselves. He lays me gently back on my stomach, careful to stay tucked inside. My head resting against the pillow I was sitting on earlier, my skin soothed by the plush blanket. He joins me where I lay, resting half of his weight on me.

“Oh god. Sammy.” I cry out at the feeling of his cock inside my overstimulated cunt as he pulls out to the tip and slides back in again. My hand finds his thigh, nails digging into his skin, and he grunts out. He takes that as a sign to resume full force. His thrusts are hard and fast. Working himself up to meet his own end. His heady breaths against my ear could drive me to another orgasm if my body was capable. 

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “I’m gonna cum.” his hips speed up, his pace unforgiving as his own release is in his sights. He holds his breath, and I brace myself, his hips snapping once more and pausing. Buried in me to the hilt, I feel his dick twitch with each spurt of release inside me. We let out a mutual ‘fuck’ as he releases. He teases himself slightly with gentle motions, slowly in and out of my pussy. His cum starts to leak out of me, landing on the blanket below. 

When I feel him start to pull out of me fully I beg, “No, no, no. Please.”

“What baby?” He asks, confused.

“Stay. You feel too good.” I whine pathetically. He slides fully off my body to his side, sneaking his arm under my head and pulling me close, spooning me. His cock still tucked pleasantly inside of me. 

“Is my little bird gonna warm my cock for me? Huh?” 

I hum out an affirmation. “I really fucking needed that.” 

“Yeah? You ready for that sauna yet?” He jests. “Little round two in there?” His hand makes its way to my breast, gently rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I laugh and snuggle in closer to him. “Thinkin’ about it.”

Need more Sam in your life? 🩷

Sparrow Of The Dawn Masterpost 🤭

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#gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #gvf fic #sam kiszka #sam gvf #sammy gvf #sammy kiszka #sam x reader #sam kiszka fanfiction #samuel francis kiszka #sfk #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiszka x reader #sfk x reader #samuel kiszka #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka one shot #gvf one shot #greta van fleet fic #gretavanfleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van angst #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet one shot #sam x willa

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter Nine: Close Quarters

*mood board by the lovely @/janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @/saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, stolen kisses, terms of endearment (sweetheart, etc.), outdoor/semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving). Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used).

Series masterlist

Chapter Nine: Close Quarters

“She agreed to meet for drinks,” Tommy declared as he entered the crew mess after the charter guests deboarded, his fit body vibrating with excitement. He stole half of the sandwich you just made with a cheeky grin before sliding in next to you at the table.

“Oy!” You slapped his hand too late; he already shoved it in his fat gob. “Bloody fucking menace. Did you annoy her to death, so she agreed just to get you to go away?”

He turned puppy dog eyes on you, so like his brother, and pouted. It must be a Miller family trait to have perfected that look. Sarah was just as good at it, too. “Rude.”

You laughed, bumping his shoulder playfully. He annoyed you like an older sibling, and you got over it just as quickly. “So, Maria is sticking around for a bit? Where are you going to take her?”

Tommy ran a hand through his long, dark hair. “Yeah, she’s staying in San Juan for another few days. I’m thinking Caribar at Caribe Hilton. I need to impress her.”

Your eyes widened. That was an upscale resort with expensive food and drinks. He was going all out for this woman. “Wow. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

His hands suddenly began fidgeting. “I haven’t taken dating seriously in a real long time. And she’s unlike anyone I have dated before. She’s way outta my league. I’m scared shitless,” Tommy admitted. Turning desperate eyes on you, he added, “Would you and Joel come along? Make it a double date kinda thing? I’ll be less nervous that way.”

You weren’t sure it was a great idea, but Tommy looked like a nervous little boy at the thought of going on an actual date without some type of backup. “Are you sure you want us there? It won’t cramp your style?”

“Please? You can leave whenever you want, just be there to help get the conversation flowing until I get comfortable. Or drunk. Whichever happens first, I guess.”

Shrugging, you tilted your chin toward the upper decks. “Let me run it by Joel, I guess. I’m not sure if he’s ready to put our relationship out there like that yet. And going on a double date with you and Maria would definitely put it out there.”

“I already ran it by him – he’s ok with it if you are.”

There went any excuse you could have thought of. If Joel was okay with it, how could you ever say no. You felt giddy at just the thought of going on a double date with him. That one night in the hotel being the closest thing you’ve had to a date in far too long. “That settles it. We’re going on a double date! Just keep it on the down low amongst the crew, yeah?”

“Keep what on the down low?” Sarah chimed in as she entered the crew mess for a snack. Each of you should have been doing work to turnover the boat for the next charter, but it seemed like everyone was feeling a bit peckish.

Tommy glanced at you and winked. “I asked Maria out and she said yes.” Sarah screeched in response, throwing her arms around Tommy. “That’s great! Where are you taking her? Tell me everything!”

You left the two of them to gush over Tommy’s plans and made your way up to the main deck to see what needed done still. The next couple of hours passed in a flash, the washdown keeping you busy. Joel held you back after the tip meeting – the guests left a huge tip after your heroic actions.

“Did Tommy talk to you?” His voice rough like sandpaper on fresh cut wood, causing a delightful chill to wash down your back.

“Mmhmm. You sure you want to do this?”

You held yourself back from reaching for him – it was torture, but you stayed strong. Joel glanced around the main salon confirming that it was empty but for the two of you. His head dipped, closing the distance between you, and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Yes, I’m sure.” A mischievous look flashed in his dark eyes, and he swatted your ass before departing for the bridge, leaving you giggling like a lovesick teen as you made your way below deck. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you giggled at the text from Joel.

JM: We’re going on a date!

By the time you showered and readied yourself for a nice evening out, the news of Tommy’s date – and your and Joel’s roles in it – was old news to the rest of the crew. Talia eyed you knowingly, her mysterious and quiet nature made you believe she saw a lot more than she let on. Sarah and Tess teased you, true to form. Jake just looked at you blankly, leaving you wondering if he was jealous.

“Make sure he pays!” Sarah demanded. “Do not take your wallet out under any circumstances.”

She was so adamant that her dad better treat you well that it left you with an aching belly from laughing so hard.

“I’m serious! He’s got it in his head that he’s a feminist and I’m afraid he thinks that means women should pay their own way. DO NOT let him get away with that, not on a Captain’s salary. You hear me?”

Your hands flew up in surrender, eyes wide at her earnest tone. “Understood. He pays. No exceptions.”

Satisfied, Sarah changed the conversation to compliment your choice in attire. You opted for the classiest dress you packed, a form fitting but not indecent black number that you had tucked away in your closet for years. It was definitely your go-to little black dress and it had been severely under-utilized for the past couple of years. You paired the dress with strappy heels – nothing too high, you didn’t want to break an ankle – and your long hair flowed over your shoulders in natural, beachy waves. Your makeup was subtle and classy, just a hint of color on your eyelids and lips to accentuate your tanned skin, a definite benefit of working outside.

“You look gorgeous,” Tess said as you did one last spin for them.

“Yeah, Dad’s gonna stumble all over his words when he sees you,” Sarah added, hugging you.

You blushed, picturing Joel staring at you in adoration, complimenting you with a nervous hitch in his deep, rumbling voice. Damn, arousal already built in your lower belly at just the thought. You were in for a delightfully torturous evening.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” Joel breathed in your ear as you followed Tommy into the resort. “I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you at the table.”

“Who said you had to?” you teased in return, enjoying the warmth of his hand at your back. “And yes, you have, but please don’t stop. You look sinfully gorgeous tonight as well.”

Joel grinned, dark eyes twinkling behind thick framed glasses, his lush curls artfully falling into place atop his head. Your fingers ached to run through them, twist them around your slim digits. Part of you longed to dash away, get a room, and keep Joel to yourself for the night. But one glance at Tommy’s anxious smile, dark eyes scanning the outdoor tables in search of Maria, and you knew the pair of you would never be able to sneak away.

“Ah, there she is!” Tommy exclaimed, spotting Maria at a table tucked into a corner of the open-air seating area. He surged forward, soft breeze ruffling his long curls. You squeezed Joel’s hand, hanging back to let Tommy greet his date without the pair of you hovering over them.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Joel’s voice rumbled in your ear. “He must really like her.” Your head bobbed in agreement, turning to smile at him. Your faces were so close, the miniscule distance between you reduced further as Joel tilted his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. “Mmm, I really like you.” Joel’s lips pecked yours after every word.

“Come on already, love birds!” Tommy called, waving to you from his seat next to Maria.

“Nice to see you both again,” Maria greeted as you sat, her dark, smooth skin beaming with happiness.

Dinner was lovely, conversation flowing with a natural ease among the four of you. Maria and Tommy were equally enamored with each other and before long you and Joel were left chatting amongst yourselves.

“Want to get outta here?” Joel’s fingertips teased along the hem of your dress, stoking the fire that started building within you hours ago.

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Your chair nearly toppled backwards from the force with which you stood. Joel barely mumbled an excuse to his brother as you dragged him away, waving at Maria and Tommy over your shoulder.

A visceral need for him churned in your belly, skin buzzing as he dragged you around a few corners, backing you against a shadowed section of wall hidden from passersby and windows. Joel’s mouth was on you instantly, teeth nipping at your lips and scraping at your neck as he tasted your skin.

“Joel.” You drew his name out in a long, low moan as his fingers slid beneath the hem of your sundress and dipped past your panties. You were throbbing, wet and waiting for his expert touch. It had been too long since the last time you were together like this, the night at the hotel feeling like a distant memory.

“Sweetheart, all this for me?” His fingers left you briefly, bringing them up to his eyeline. Joel stared at the glaze on them, before slipping them into his mouth to suck at the irrefutable evidence of your arousal. “Fucking Christ, you taste good. Like nectar from a god damn peach.”

Joel made quick work of removing your panties, shoving the strip of fabric in his pocket as his lips met yours. A gasp left your lungs when his fingers sank knuckle deep inside you, his thumb teasing at your clit. The bundle of nerves already over sensitized, Joel made you come within minutes, his mouth swallowing your moans and whines.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Coming on my damn fingers already. So sexy.” Joel’s voice, rough with arousal, talked you through it, lips still touching yours as you breathed the same breaths. His free hand worked at his pants, setting his hardened cock free from its confines. “Need you, sweetheart. Now.”

“Oh, fuck.” Knees already weak from your orgasm, you hiked one leg up around his hip while he supported you, grasping your ass to hike you further up. Joel slipped inside, stretching your warm, wet walls with the sheer size of him. “Joel, love, you feel so good.”

Part of you couldn’t believe you were letting Joel fuck you against a wall in public. It was something you’d never done before – you were adventurous, sure, but not that adventurous. The other part of you didn’t give a shit. You were with Joel, the hard press of his body moving against yours bringing you both immense pleasure, and that was all that mattered.

Hands buried in those lush curls, you keened. “Faster, please.” Already on edge, you needed as much of Joel as you could get. “I’m so close.” His hips lurched in response, snapping faster, harder as his mouth latched onto the skin at the base where your shoulder met your neck. The sharp nip of his teeth followed by the gentle swipe of his tongue soothing the spot sent you over the edge. “Fuck, Joel!”

“Shhh,” he hushed you, fucking you through the height of your orgasm as your walls choked his cock. His thrusts became erratic, muscles flexing as he lost control. Your name flowed beautifully from his lip while his cum painted your walls. You stayed connected, chests heaving, and concrete wall cool against the heated skin of your back, as you both came down from the heights of ecstasy for several minutes.

“That was…”

“Yeah…”

There were no words.

The breeze shifted, carrying a slight chill in the night air, and you finally separated to right yourselves. Holding your hand out for your panties once Joel tucked himself away, you laughed when he just patted his pocket with a shake of his head. “Nah, I’m keepin’ ‘em.”

“Naughty,” you teased, grasping his hand as you walked.

The yacht was lit up when you made it back, the rest of the crew on the sundeck, dancing and carrying on. Laughter and buzzed conversations carried through the air as you and Joel quietly boarded without anyone seeing you. You knew you should join them on deck, but your heart ached to stay near Joel as long as you could. Joel seemed to feel the same.

Hand in his, you followed him through the interior to the bridge, brows shooting up when Joel merely nodded to Frank and dragged you around the corner to his quarters. You could hardly meet Frank’s knowing gaze as you passed.

“Joel, what –”

He silenced you with a finger against your lips, still puffy from the shared moments against the wall. “I’m not ready to let you go,” he murmured, shutting the door behind you. Large hands deftly removed your dress and bra, tossing them aside before slipping a fresh tee shirt over your head. “You’re staying here tonight, okay?”

Eyes widened comically, you merely nodded as Joel stripped down to his boxer briefs and pulled you into bed with him. You expected him to lead you somewhere quiet and private, but certainly not as private as his quarters. Settled beneath the soft sheet next to him, nothing in your life ever felt as right as laying there in Joel’s arms, his lips pressing tender kisses to your forehead. You only hoped he didn’t come to regret it in the morning.

The sky beyond the porthole was still dark, the first hints of dawn not yet peeking through when Joel drifted into wakefulness, your warm body tangled with his. Nose buried in your hair, he breathed in your scent, one hand caressing the soft, supple skin of your hips while the other cradled your head. He could not recall ever feeling such contentment, his heart fit to burst with emotions.

Joel’s hands continued wandering as he became lost in thought, imagining more moments like this with you. He could not wait to further explore things with you during the off season. You came in and set his life upside down in the best way possible when he least expected it. Falling in love did not come easy to Joel, but with you, it was effortless. He was falling whether he wanted to or not, it was inevitable and unstoppable.

You stirred beneath his touch when his hand dipped between your thighs, thick fingers teasing at your slit, already wet and ready for him. The sleepy moans you let out as he rubbed your clit hit his ears like a symphony. Joel continued fingering you until you were fully awake, clutching at him as he drew an orgasm from you.

“Joel,” you breathed his name into the dark room, mouth pressed to his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin. “What’s gotten into you?” His hands were everywhere, mapping your body, committing it to memory.

“You.”

Mind still foggy with a mix of pleasure and sleep, you stared at him, perplexed. “What?”

“You. You’re what’s gotten into me,” he replied with a soft chuckle, pulling you impossibly closer. “You wriggled your way into my life, beneath my skin, into my heart. Now you’re in my bed. Of course, I’m going to take advantage of that.” You were looking at him with such softness in your eyes, he knew you felt the same.

Your hands wandered as he spoke, body still buzzing from the aftereffects of your orgasm, and finally wrapped around his rapidly hardening cock. “Yes, taking advantage of that sounds like a good plan.”

Joel laid back, letting you take control, your touch setting him ablaze. Shuffling down toward the foot of the bed, you took him in your mouth, and he whined at the wet warmth encasing him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you worked him, taking as much of him as you could until his tip hit the back of your throat, tongue working along the bottom of his shaft and swirling around the head. He wouldn’t last long like that, hands grasping your arms to gently pull you up.

“Why’d you stop me? I was enjoying myself,” you sassed, climbing up Joel’s broad form, thighs settling on either side of his hips.

“So was I, but I didn’t want to blow my load so quick. You’re too good at that, beautiful girl.” You were painfully gorgeous in the pre-dawn light, the glow of your skin ethereal in the moonlight. He kissed you, tongue licking into your mouth to tangle with yours as you wriggled your hips until the broad head of his cock was perfectly notched to slip inside you.

You sank down on him, moaning into the kiss as you began to ride him with a slow rocking of your hips. Unlike last night, where the pair of you worked each other hard and fast from the overwhelming need of the moment, every movement this morning was lazy and loving, a slow build of pleasure until you came with a gasp, Joel exploding inside you shortly after.

Words were on the tip of his tongue as you clung to each other afterwards, drowsy and sated, but Joel swallowed them. Too soon, he reminded himself.

Sleep pulled you both back under for a couple hours until all hell broke loose.

tbc

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #pedrostories

[sleepingdeath-light]

his s/o sees him in his b.a.d.4 outfit hcs ; red velvet cookie

requested by ; living-toad (15/11/22)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; red velvet cookie

outline ; “Hey homie I was hoping you do a request of us reacting/seeing red velvet in his B.A.D outfit. Like we just see homie on stage and start gushing how absolutely amazing they look. Ngl I am getting gender envy homie looks fine af😳

Thx you for whenever you get to this! Hope you have an amazing day/night 💟”

note ; potentially a bit ooc as i haven’t written for red velvet in a while

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

despite outward appearances, red velvet cookie isn’t really the sort of person to ‘dress up’ or try and show himself off for anyone — hell, he still flounders and gets too flustered to properly respond to your attentions and flattery and you’re his partner for crying out loud!

so, needless to say, this whole b.a.d.4 thing is very out of his comfort zone and required a whole lot of convincing (mainly from his adoptive mother and yourself) to get him onboard at all — and even then he refused to show you what he looked like in full costume

at one point he even went so far as to have their self-appointed managed usher you out of the room when they were doing their initial full-costume choreography as a group

but all of that secrecy goes out of the window the moment the group step on stage and steal the show with ‘bad and dark’ — at which point you’re finally given the chance to see your partner in his full pop-punk get up

and, naturally, you fall in love all over again and are practically trembling with the effort it takes not to rush on stage and shower him with all of the love, attention, and praise you can

red velvet cookie, meanwhile, is trying his best not to look over to where he knows you’re located in the crowd — both because he’s anxious about your reaction and trying his best to hide it, and because he knows that the moment he catches sight of the person he loves with his whole being that he won’t be able to stop himself from softening up and losing the persona that he’d been assigned by pomegranate cookie for their band

he really can’t handle another lecture about ‘weaknesses’ and ‘having an image to uphold’ so soon after the last one…

but he can’t help himself for long and towards the conclusion of the song he finds his eyes straying fom the crowd in search of you — or at least where you were meant to be — and he finds himself flustered and endeared by what he sees

you’re there in your spot visibly giddy with excitement and animatedly gushing to the strangers around you — he’s only able to catch disjointed fragments but all of those ‘handsome’s and ‘that’s my boyfriend!’s and ‘so cool!’s is more than enough to brighten his cheeks and stroke his ego in a way that nearly makes him speechless

in fact it’s only the weight of the crowd’s expectations that keeps him from turning into a blushing, stammering mess and helps him to keep his ‘cool’ (though only barely)

and as b.a.d.4 make it to the end of their song, and up until the moment he’s completely out of sight of the crowd, his visible eye remains fixed on you as he commits that beaming expression of pride, love, and adoration to memory

… maybe he can convince their ‘manager’ to let him keep take outfit back home with him…

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #crk fluff #crk x reader #cookie run fluff #cookie run x reader #red velvet cookie fluff #red velvet cookie x reader

[ash-is-dying]

Mr Perfectly Fine: Chap 3

A/N: It’s been a while but it’s fineeee. I warned you I’m not a consistent person... This is quite an angst heavy chapter and we FINALLY get a hint as to why Eddie is being such a dickhead. Hope you enjoy and I’ll be starting a taglist even tho I’ve only got like a few people on it... BUT PROGRESS IS PROGRESS AND WE STAN!

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter 3: Mr. Looked Me In The Eye And Told Me You Would Never Go Away

---

After you made the unfortunate discovery that your life was going to become inevitably more intertwined with Eddie’s you gave up on avoiding him. If you absolutely had to interact with the world’s biggest pain in the ass then you were going to gain the upper hand. You felt childish but giddy at the same time, like a spy trying to figure out how to take down the bad guy. The best way to do this turned out to be an all day café study session. He had let slip that he would be unable to do any project work this weekend due to his full-day shift.

That was a bit of information he probably should’ve kept to himself.

As there was now a girl sipping on her third almond milk caramel hot chocolate sitting in the corner booth half writing notes on a lecture and half watching Eddie Munson.

For revenge purposes.

Obviously.

You watched the way he moved like he owned the bar. He timed everything perfectly. He would stick his tongue out whilst he poured his latte art, his hair frizzed under the heat of the steamer and he would hesitate by the fridge for a second too long to cool off. He had memorized every order by heart and had no need to glance at the recipe sheet behind the machinery. If he had nothing to do he’d fidget with the change in the tip jar, flipping it between his oversized hands over and over. He eventually dropped some under the counter and dipped his hand into his apron to replace the missing cash with some of his own, that was kinda cute. Not that you’d ever admit it.

When it came to customers he greeted everyone with a tired smile on his face. He was fast and listened to every order in detail. Of course when a cute girl came along every now and again he would purposefully take longer to get their order. How did you know this was on purpose? Because every girl let out the same obnoxious giggle as he smirked, eyeing them up and down. Your eardrums felt like bursting. So evidently he did possess some people skills and could tolerate customers.

He just couldn’t tolerate you.

Now whilst you had been paying avid attention to how he acted, none of this information got you any closer to understanding why he acted the way he did, how to stop it and most importantly how to get your revenge. By now your third hot chocolate had been polished off and you found yourself rubbing your eyes and walking in autopilot to the counter.

He saw you approach and you noticed his eyes close as he sighed and made his way to the register.

“Another hot chocolate if you will Munson.”

“Nope. You’re being cut off.” Your eyebrows raised.

“Cut off?”

“Yup”

“From- drinking hot chocolate?”

“Yup.”

“May I ask why you’ve come to such a decision?”

His arms flexed as he leaned all his weight onto the counter. “Well first off you have an ungodly amount of caffeine in each of those and you’ve had three so far. I believe that makes six shots of espresso. Normally I wouldn’t care but you’ve been shaking like a leaf for the past half hour. Your hands keep hovering above your keyboard and twitching, your leg jerks under the table and I’ve yet to see you write more than a paragraph for our music rationale.”

A light blush dusts your cheeks at the realization that you were being watched too and it had gone entirely unnoticed. “I don’t see how any of that is your business. You haven’t been regulating any other patrons intake.”

“No I haven’t, but this particular patron is writing the college work that I’m being graded on. God forbid I try to save our asses.” You scoff as a smile spreads across your face.

“Our asses? You have not touched our assignment and you’re gonna get in my face about doing a bad job? Because what? I’m fidgeting? Grow up Munson that’s bullcrap and you know it. Just get me my drink.”

“No.” He crosses his arms over his chest and a smug half smile sits on his face.

“No?”

“I have the right to refuse service to any customer I wish sweetheart, you don’t get any privilege here.”

You chew your lip as you come up with an idea. “I would like to speak with your boss please.”

“Wayne? What’s he gonna do for you?” You look at him, dead seriousness on your face. He raises his arms in a surrendering position as he wanders out the back to retrieve Wayne.

You stand alone as you wait and suddenly you hear Eddie’s muffled complaints from behind the kitchen doors. Silence ensues before Wayne steps out rubbing his forehead before looking up and relaxing when he sees your face. He smiles softly and rounds the counter before wrapping you in a bear hug and scruffling your hair before he turns to Eddie and speaks.

“Eddie, this is the girl I was telling you about. The pretty one that’s your age.” He turns back to you. “How’ve you been kiddo?”

It doesn’t escape your peripherals that Eddie is standing in silent shock, his jaw slack and his eyes slightly widened. “I’m good Wayne, just getting to know your nephew.” You smile sweetly and see Eddies eyes harden.

Wayne laughs gruffly, “be careful with him, he bites. Determined to be a rockstar this one, he’s certainly got the attitude for it. I can’t take my eyes off him or he’ll be off snogging one of the waitresses.” Eddie looks disgusted by the display of friendship and you can’t help but giggle. “Has he told you he’s actually in my music studies class? We’re meant to be working on a project but he’s been avoiding me like the plague.”

Wayne’s eyes shoot open. “Him dodging you? But you’re delightful, my favourite customer by far.”

“That’s what I keep telling him.” The smugness shines through on your face as Eddie tries and fails to prevent you ratting him out any further.

“Ed, why have you been dodging this poor girl? She ain’t harming no one.”

Eddie finally answers grumbling. “Haven’t… just been busy working.”

Wayne rolls his eyes in response for you to see. “Go on your break, we’ll be fine without you for half an hour, go help her do your project.” He goes to argue but Wayne shoots him a glare, forcing Eddie out of his apron and out from behind the barrier between them. Wayne hugs you goodbye and takes his place as Eddie pushes past you.

“Lets just get this over with.”

---

Working with Eddie is almost exactly the same as working alone except now he’s directly across from you rather than being his usual few feet away. The silence feels uncomfortable, like his closeness is irritating your skin, his ignorant presence alone making you itchy.

“So any ideas for our music mashup? I’ve chosen classic rock so we need something that’ll either contrast well or merge smoothly, so?”

He sits scratching at his nails. “I don’t know.”

You can feel the frustration seeping out of your body as you try to talk to this brick wall of a person. “How about new age funk? Jazz maybe? The tempos could be an interesting combination if we do it right.”

He makes no effort to look up as he responds. “I’m not a fan of either.”

“So what are you a fan of then Eddie? Can you give me something?”

“Why do you care what I like? Just give me something to do and I’ll do it. My research doesn’t count for you just the rationale so what does it matter.”

“It matters because we still have to combine our music and I’m not working with some half assed jazz tune as our major work for the semester!” You raise your voice before you look at your lap. As you try to push through your building headache your eyes drift to his shoes. They have marker scrawled all over, little sketches here and there but what stands out most are the band names; Metallica, Iron Maiden and Motley Crue, there are more hidden beneath the layers of writing but from these alone an idea forms in your head. You look up tentatively your voice low and soft.

“How about metal? They would merge well and we can have some harsher undertones with a more upbeat melody.” His tongue runs over his teeth.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” You go back to taking notes on the separate parts of your project before you hear him speak of his own volition.

“You read my shoes.” Your head shoots up in surprise and you sit unresponsive.

He smiles slightly “The bands on my shoes, you noticed them. Smart move on your part.”

You soften slightly “I wouldn’t have to read them if you would just work with me. Why do you insist on making this so hard?”

He moves one leg on top of the other and he glances out the window he seems like he’s going to say something honest and genuine till he bites his tongue. “Cause I don’t enjoy working with entitled people who expect everyone to like them. Just because you’re a pretty girl and because you don’t express how you really feel towards others doesn’t make you a saint. Frankly I don’t like you and you don’t deserve niceties, fake or otherwise. What I hate more than people who are assholes are people who pretend they aren’t ones.”

Surprisingly his words hurt. Somehow he’s managed to pick apart one of the only things that bothers you about yourself. You’re a people pleaser. The only person you genuinely dislike is the man sitting in front of you. And even so, whilst he insults and attacks you, you still can’t bring yourself to hate him. Not after seeing the man working behind the counter, the man who works tiredly but puts effort into what he does, the man you’re not supposed to see.

“I don’t expect people to like me-”

“You do. And when they don’t it kills you, so you force them into a corner, you learn what you can and try and wiggle your way into their lives. Well how about this sweetheart.” The name drips from his lips like venom. “Maybe people have a reason to not like you. And maybe you should leave them alone, so when they tell you to pick things for them to minimize contact you do it.” His eyes are cold and he is seething now.

The tears burn in your eyes as he buries himself into the wounds he’s created. He sits poised, ready for you to attack him. Ready for you to retaliate.

But you don’t.

“I think… I think I should go.” You pack up your things through teary eyes, refusing to spare him a glance as you make sure to pile your rubbish neatly and you slide out of the booth. “I’ll see you on Monday. You don’t have to sit with me I’ll just send you my notes.” You stalk out the door before he gets the chance to reply. The bell to the door rings sharply in your ear as the cold outdoor air dries your face as you walk. Pissed off and hurt as you walk away realizing there is genuinely nothing you can do against Eddie’s out of the blue hatred.

---

Eddie remains seated, the gears in his head whirring as he witnesses your miniature breakdown. His foot bounces and his brow furrows as his thoughts go a mile a minute. His brain grinds to a halt as a shadow is cast over him.

“And what was that?”

Eddie glances up at his uncle acting oblivious. “What was what?”

“Edward Munson I have known that girl for almost three years and I have never once seen her cry.”

“What has that got to do with me?”

“Boy I have raised you since you were four years old, you have a tendency to be a bit of a dickhead to people you’re threatened by. So my question is why are you threatened by a twenty year old girl who has nothing against you and not a mean bone in her body?”

“Nothing. I didn’t do nothing to her.”

“You can’t expect me to leave that after she left in tears. I’m your uncle. Talk to me Eddie.”

“She just. She…” He bites his lip searching for the words.

“She’s like her, and I don’t like it.”

Wayne leans on his elbows and lowers his voice “Eddie you can’t push away every girl that reminds you of her, cause she’s not the same person.”

“She acts so high and mighty but she talks so softly, she knows everything about me and I know nothing about her, she finds things about me and pulls me apart piece by piece. She’s so determined to get me to like her and I can’t even find the words to tell her that I’m sorry. All I can see is her face staring at me and I lose it. For fucks sake she has almond milk in her drinks too!”

He takes a deep breath.

“Look even if I wanted to its already too late to fix things.”

“Well you better find a way to make it up to her. Cause you’re gonna look her in the eyes and tell her you’re not going away. Cause you’re not and you’re not just letting this go. Not if I can help it.”

---

Taglist:

@micheledawn1975​ , @emma77645​ , @rustboxstarr​ 

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson angst #enemies to lovers #barista!eddie #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you

[bizaar]

enjolras x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only - piv smut, oral (f receiving) handjob (m receiving) - general talks and mentions of sex/smut, lovemaking, breeding kink if you squint - mentions of concubines and usage of the word "whore" (reader is a sex worker so proceed with caution), general tooth rotting fluffiness, forbidden love is my bread and butter

word count: 8k (I'm so sorry I'm incapable of writing anything short)

a.n.: This is my first smut so go easy on me :D also, apologies if I didn't do Enjolras justice, I watched clips from BBC Les Mis on Youtube for days and got sort of generally stuck on how to write him talking about anything besides the revolution when ALL he talks about is the revolution - PLEASE BEAR IN MIND THAT READER IS A SEX WORKER so don't come for me tumblr prudes I don't want to hear it.

A chorus of high voices calling your name summons you to the top of the stairs, and it’s there you find him, idling in the foyer below — Enjolras.

Just to see him kicks up a storm of giddiness swirling in the pit of your stomach and you have to resist the urge to say something smart about finding himself in a brothel so late in the evening, just to defuse the tension.

He wouldn’t like that.

Be sweet, Mon Cher, he’d implored you recently in the midst of an intimate moment— stroking your face and breathing hard against your mouth, your legs wrapped around his canting hips, holding him to press tight against your core as he slipped in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

That had been six nights ago — Six nights too many, you think as you pinch your thighs together and feel the first stirrings of arousal in your belly.

Now, the other girls stand around him in a throng of giggling fillies, touching and flirting — the teasing only amplifies when they see you standing there, not so subtly gripping the banister.

“Your man is here —” One of them sings, her voice dripping with a condescending edge as she braces her hands on the flare of her hips and leans into him, very pointedly presenting her ample bosom, spilling out from the top of her stays.

To his credit, Enjolras pays her no mind, he is far too busy gazing up at you with all the reverence of a man set to worship.

Still, the gesture brings a hot flash of jealousy to your cheeks and you scowl at her as you begin your quick descent of the rickety steps. They creak under your weight, despite the way your stockinged feet make no noise against the brushed wood — your worn dressing gown trails behind you like the train of a fine dress.

Enjolras watches you approach, a gentle smile spread over his handsome features that you pretend not to see as you hit the last step and reach for his hand.

He gives it to you.

“Haven’t you all got better things to do than stand around gawking?” You hiss at the silly creatures, pulling to lead Enjolras back up the flight.

“Better things, for sure,” someone muses, “But no better men.”

They kick up with a chorus of raucous laughter and you tighten your grip on his thick fingers like you’re half afraid they’re going to steal him from your grasp if you aren’t quick to get him up the stairs.

The girls all call their teasing, singsong goodbyes to Enjolras as you mount the steps and disappear into the belly of the brothel.

You quietly thank God that the Madam is not home. She would not stand for such idle foolishness, nor would she stand to see you whisking Enjolras off to your room. The girls are all enamored with his soft eyes, kind speech, and good looks — the Madam only cares whether or not he can pay for your company on his meager salary. More often than not you do not even bother charging him, as his company is payment enough — much to the Madam’s chagrin.

How she does like to tell you that time given away is time wasted, and the Madam does not stand for that kind of frivolity.

Your room is at the far end of a long hall of open doors. To peek through you might have seen the other courtesans busy with their own individual fancies between suitors — playing at cards, drinking wine, gossiping — that is if they had not all gathered down in the foyer to fawn over the handsome guest in their midst.

It is strangely quiet for this time of night, though you expect that is likely to change soon enough.

The hard thumps of Enjolras’s footsteps as he follows wordlessly behind you beat in tandem with your heart, and you silently wish to be anywhere but here, where this didn’t have to feel so mercantile, where intimacy could live and breathe without the ever-present guillotine of payment hanging over your heads. You wish it were enough to be lovers and not just a favored whore.

You know he would reject that thinking, despite how true it is.

How many times has he told you he loves you? How many times have you rejected that affection on principle?

You cannot afford to love him while you are so deeply indebted to the Madam… and yet…

Through the door you go, startling the two young girls who have taken refuge in your room. They sit crowded at the vanity, their faces done up in powder and rouge, one wrapped in your fine silk shawl as if they’d been playing at dress up.

Their wide eyes flit back and forth between you and the man you have in tow with a patent unease, like they have been caught red-handed at something.

“Marie, Clotilde, get out.” You say sharply, addressing the girls by name.

They remain staring at you, at Enjolras. Everyone knows about him, the revolutionary — your little pet — you imagine they have heard as much talk of him as anyone else in this house.

They are younger than the others and thankfully have not been set to working just yet. As such they are comparatively harmless, but you are no less inclined to let them share in what little time you have with Enjolras.

He is yours and you intend to have him before the Madam returns.

You clap your hands sharply, snapping the girls to attention and pointing to the door.

“Alons-y! Go!”

They scramble to collect their things and get to their feet before scurrying past you, heads dipped sheepishly as they go through the door.

“Is that him?” You hear Clotilde whisper before shutting the door.

Somewhere behind you, Enjolras sighs.

“They are much too young for this life.” He says, his voice a low timbre that sends shivers through your body.

“No younger than I was when it found me.” You mumble bitterly. “Paris is a cruel city for girls with no means…”

The stillness that falls over the room is but a calm before the storm — you survey the mess, discarded stays, skirts, boots, and petticoats, your delicate shawl lies pooled at the foot of the bed where it was hastily discarded.

You heave a sigh and cross the room to retrieve your most precious trinket from the floor.

“How was your meeting?” You ask idly, desperate to cut the tension over the bleakness of life in the underbelly of Paris.

Enjolras likes conversation, particularly with you — he likes to pretend this is anything but the transactional exchange it really is, so as not to cheapen his feelings for you — your feelings for him.

“It went well, I think.” He says, “There were more people there tonight than I’ve seen before—"

You hum thoughtfully as you uncork a bottle of wine and pour yourself a glass.

You watch, half mesmerized by the swirling dark liquid, and feel the heat of his gaze on your back as he continues.

“People are coming from all over Paris. It feels as though they’re finally ready to stand up for something.”

“For the revolution you mean?” You ask, sipping the wine.

Your tone is decidedly more condescending than you’d intended and Enjolras doesn’t answer. You half expect him to admonish you for mocking his cause, but he remains quiet.

Behind you, you hear the telltale click of the door lock sliding into place and feel butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach — the Madam does not abide a locked door in her house, but you cannot presently bring yourself to care.

His silence would be enough to unnerve you were you not so entirely certain of his gentle nature, his kindness, his affection for you.

When you turn to look at him, you find that he has crossed the room to stand behind you, his body blocking your view. His hands come up to trail feather-light touches up the length of your arms. You feel his breath fanning the back of your neck.

“I missed you tonight.” He murmurs.

You breathe an easy laughter through your nose and shiver under his touch. He takes the glass from your hand and drains it in one gulp — it clinks softly as he sets it down on the dressing table before you.

His arms come up to snake around you and pull you close, the rumble of his contented sigh vibrating through your body.

“How can you miss me when you have your good lady Madam Révolution to keep you warm?” You tease, leaning back into his touch.

“I always miss you when you’re not there.” He says ever so softly, dipping to press a gentle kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. “You could come with me, you know. To the meetings?”

“I’ve been to your meetings.” You remind him, turning your head to rest against his shoulder, tipping back into the crook of his neck as his free hand moves to splay out across your belly.

Thick fingers press you back to lay flush against his body and you smirk as you feel the faintest impression of his cock stirring there.

You rock your hips back tentatively against him.

“They weren’t for me.”

“The meetings…” he insists, brushing his plush lips across the highest point of your cheekbone, your temple, your hairline, “…Are for anyone who yearns for liberation.”

You mean to roll your eyes, but arousal has beat you to the motion as the hand on your stomach slips down to cup you between your legs. Thick, calloused fingers draw a slow line over the clothed seam of your pussy and your eyes roll back in their sockets at the sensation it elicits, lips parting ever so slightly on a breathy moan.

You certainly do yearn, though not presently for liberation.

You had meant what you said, though — you aren't expressly unwelcome at the meetings, but nothing deters the good citizens of Paris from turning their noses up at the presence of a common whore in their midst.

You’d met Enjolras at one of his citizen’s meetings, and spent the duration of it being sneered at by the upstanding proletariat in attendance. You hardly cared. You’d been there to work, not to be inspired, but then you’d caught Enjolras’s gaze and found yourself struck, and like a bolt of lightning, you forgot all other men but the brooding revolutionary with the dark eyes.

He was similarly affected by you.

You don’t believe in such fanciful things as love at first sight, and yet you’d spent the evening circling one another, stealing glances and shy smiles before you’d shocked yourself by sitting and listening to him give speeches about liberty and equality among the people.

You would not consider yourself a patriot by any stretch of the word, and as such you didn’t retain a thing Enjolras said that night, only the way he’d said it, and how he'd spent half as much time undressing you with his eyes as he did rabble-rousing.

You thought he was marvelous, and that was dangerous for someone like you.

In some small hope of retaining what shred of good sense you had left, you quietly took your leave before the cheering and songs were finished, as if somehow you knew you were going to fall in love with him if you gave him the chance.

He, in turn, had stolen away from the budding revolution to follow you nearly halfway across Paris, just to ask your name.

It was a gesture romantic enough to make your knees tremble.

For all his serious talk of liberation and freedoms, you were surprised at his secret romantic inclinations — though, of course, you suppose all revolutionaries are romantics at heart.

It takes a great passion to care enough about the plight of the lesser man to want to change things, after all.

Enjolras had asked to walk along the Seine with you and watch the sunrise, and you’d told him he couldn’t afford to buy that much of your time, hoping that knowledge of your profession might deter his pursuit of your affections.

It did not and, against your better judgment, you’d let him kiss you as the sun rose over the river.

He has held your heart ever since and you have not known a day of peace for it.

Nevermind your profession, there is no room for love in the midst of a revolution — to make one life more precious than the lives of the masses is antithetical to everything Enjolras proselytizes … and yet…

His eyes are dark, satin pools, pupils blown wide with desire, staring through you to the depths of your soul. You could come apart under those eyes, even without the help of his fingers, probing experimentally at the growing slick between your legs.

Enjolras kisses you then, a soft, languid slanting of lips that breathes warmth into you all the way to your core. He holds you tight as you turn over in his hands, twisting until you are facing him, only parting so that he can lift the thin cotton shift you wear over your head and cast it aside, leaving you bare but for your stockings.

He takes your face in his hands and catches your mouth hungrily, coaxing you to open up for him just a little more with a heady swipe of his tongue. You make quick work of unwinding his dark crimson cravat to reveal the hard lines of his neck and fumble with the buttons of his waistcoat, desperate to undress him despite how he has not yet even shed his coat.

You breathe hard into the heat of his mouth as big hands roam the length of your body like Enjolras cannot decide where it is he would like most to touch you — the supple swell of your breasts or the soft dip of your waist.

He settles finally on the gentle curve of your rear, cupping you there and lifting you easily so you might wrap your legs around him. It is only as you settle in his strong arms that you finally feel the full press of his hard length digging into your hip, making his trousers all too tight.

You shudder against him and breathe his name, gripping needily at his neck and shoulders as his mouth moves down to leave searing crescent moon shapes over your jaw and the tender columns of your throat. It’s been no less than a week since you’d last been under his bruising touch, but it may as well have been a lifetime for how you yearn for him.

“Enjolras…” you whine.

“Hmm?”

“Make love to me,”

You feel the curve of his broad smile against your flesh and the rumble of gentle laughter in his chest, and you are nearly undone by the warmth swelling beneath your ribs as you are filled to the brim with emotion.

“As you wish, Mon Cher.”

It is only a few minutes more of fumbling, reverent touches and searing kisses before you’ve discarded the last of his clothing and he has you laid out on the bed.

He relieves you of your stockings one at a time, slowly peeling the thin material down your legs, kissing the soft mailable flesh of your thighs as he comes down to settle between your spread legs. You gasp when you feel the scrape of teeth on your inner thigh and push up on your elbows to watch as he settles there.

Searing breath fans your slick folds, a startling contrast to the chill that sends a shiver through your body as he pushes your legs up and out to spread you that much wider, exposing your dewy core to the air. You fist the bedsheets, watching him lick his lips, eyes bright in anticipation of the meal he is ready to make out of you.

The first tentative swipe of his tongue has you jumping, jerking at the wet heat slipping through your folds and drawing teasing circles around your opening. The little kitten licks that follow have you sinking back into the pillows, soft lilting sighs slipping from your mouth to fill the room and match the pleased, hungry sounds he is making from between your legs, muffled by the mouthful he has of your pussy.

His mouth is a sinful thing, all tongue and lips and the slightest hint of teeth, worshiping at the altar of your body with broad flat strokes up and down the length of your slit and teasing flicks to your tender nub. In no time at all you’re writhing against him, rocking your hips in search of more friction, tiny lilting sounds spilling from your mouth in an unending tide of praise and encouragement.

You tremble as he pulls back from your folds with a vulgar wet smack only to press the tip of his tongue to that little bundle of nerves throbbing with inattention. You moan, a high sound of needy ecstasy as he pulls it into his mouth and, ever so tenderly, suckles at it, sending a sharp spike of pleasure lancing you through your midsection.

You card your fingers through his hair, careful not to tug too hard as you guide him to where you need him most, which, at present, is on his back fucking up into you.

You are all too aware of how empty you are, clenching down pitifully on nothing at all.

What you don’t realize, however, is how you’ve been begging for him until he’s crawled up to meet you. He licks a fat, wet stripe up the length of your torso, over the swell of your breast and the pebbled bud of your nipple as he makes his way up. You jump under the sharp sensation as he nips at you, taking your breast between his teeth before soothing the offended flesh with a balm of his tongue.

A trail of searing wet kisses leads him further to your lips, the heat of his ministrations punctuated by the murmured assurances he showers you with. You can taste the sharp tang of your slick spread over his mouth and tongue as you suck his lower lip in past your own and let yourself be drawn up into Enjolras’s lap as he sits up and rocks back into the sea of pillows at the head of your bed.

You settle there, already flushed and a little lightheaded and having to brace yourself against his chest to stay upright as he lays back.

Once you have your bearings, you push up easily on your knees and take his rigid cock in hand, throbbing beneath your touch as you pump the length of him for good measure — not that you need to, he’s as hard as you imagine he can be, with the way his purpling tip responds to the way you swipe the pad of your thumb over his leaking slit.

When you turn your gaze back to watch him, you see his eyes are half hooded and his mouth has fallen open in a wanton panting, he hisses with pleasure when you squeeze and twist the head of him on the uptake, and suddenly his hand flies out to catch you by the wrist and still your motions.

He forces out a breathless laugh.

“Mon Cher — you’ll wring me out before we’ve even begun.” He warns you, and you click your tongue at such a thought.

“What’s got you so sensitive?” You tease, drawing featherlight touches up and down the thick vein throbbing on the underside of his shaft.

He grits his teeth and breathes out hard through his nose like he’s working hard at putting all his energy into keeping himself from spending over your fist. Enjolras shakes his head and forces himself to open his eyes, chest heaving.

“I told you — I missed you.”

Which is to say he’s more than likely been half-hard all evening in anticipation of this moment.

You find that to be immeasurably pleasing, picturing him sitting stoically amongst his compatriots, discussing revolution and democracy and the makings of history, all the while burning with unbridled lust and shifting awkwardly to conceal its effect on him.

You smirk as you lean forward to press a chase peck to the end of his nose.

“Darling, you don’t have to miss me when I’m right here.”

And then you press him to your core and sink down onto his length in one, swift motion that draws a shared groan of relief from the both of you. He’s sheathed in you to the hilt in a matter of moments, the heat of your walls clenching down and drawing him in like it’s desperate for every inch of him, hungry for more even as you’re filled to brimming with him.

It is all-encompassing, the way he clouds your senses, and anything witty you might have said dies on your tongue as you swallow hard, your nails scraping down the length of his heaving abdomen. The heady burn of how he stretches you is almost too much, and for a moment it is all you can do but sit there, speared on his cock and trembling as it presses bruisingly against your furthest wall.

Enjolras grips your thighs like your flesh is all he has to keep him grounded, throwing his head back into the pillows as he does his best to quell the gentle, unconscious rocking of his hips until you’re ready. For half a moment, you wonder if he is about to cum and if, as he’d prophesied, all of this will end before it’s even started.

You wait for his grip to ease up as he comes back to himself, and you breathe out a shaky sigh, nodding reassuringly when you feel him gently tap his fingers on your leg, silently asking after you.

Always the gentleman, checking on you in spite of his state, you could kiss him, but you’d have to rock forward to do so and you aren’t quite ready to move just yet.

You know he must be desperate to take you by your hips and rut up into you until he finds his release, but you also know he would rather cut off his own hand than do anything without your permission, so he waits, and you watch.

Oh how he suffers, your poor idealist.

You think perhaps you could tease him a little, draw this out for as long as possible, but you’d only be torturing yourself — there is no denying that you are as eager for him as he is for you, and your quick and fevered fingers drawing circles over your bud with thoughts of him are nothing compared to the real thing.

Finally, you push up on your knees again, keening at the thick drag of him against your tender walls, lifting almost to the point of dislodging him before dropping back down. Again. And again, until you’ve found a steady rhythm that has your skin crawling with ecstasy.

His isn’t the largest cock you’ve ever had, but you find that it fits you best, like it was tailor-made for you. It is certainly your favorite, though you are, perhaps, at least a tad biased when it comes to him.

Enjolras’s big hands grip and pull at you as you ride him, like he is caught again in the dilemma of where to touch you, how best to hold you. The filthy wet sounds of lovemaking fill the air, commingling with your soft moaning and the creak of the bed frame beneath you. It is the soundscape of any number of brothels across Paris, but between the two of you, it is like music.

And then, without warning, he braces himself against the mattress and cants his hips up to meet yours as you come down again. You yelp, from alarm as much as sensation, and the momentum of his sudden thrusting nearly dislodges you to send you toppling over.

You brace yourself on one arm to keep from falling, though by then Enjolras has sat up to catch you, holding you in his arms while he fucks up into you, just like you’d wanted. You curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and swivel your hips in perfect time to each of his thrusts, and you move together like a well-oiled machine.

This is how you like it best, straddling him with his arms wrapped around you, forehead pressed against his, inhaling his exhales — pure bliss — you bite your lower lip and smirk as you try to suppress a burst of joyful, breathy laughter.

“What’s funny?” He asks, his voice thick and strained and tinged with the slightest trace of humor.

You shake your head because it feels silly to tell him it’s nothing, only that this is your favorite thing in the world — bouncing on his cock — and you just wish you could do this forever.

Funny to hear someone who fucks for a living say something like that.

You just smile at him.

“I missed you,” you hum, in a gentle mockery of how he had said it before.

He still his motions ever so slightly as his face splits into a big, broad smile of his own, dimples pulling tight to indent his cheeks as he surges forward to kiss you again.

Your heart thumps solidly in your chest and you think perhaps that he is what all those poets must have been talking about when they wrote their sonnets and songs of love.

You think Enjolras must be the envy of the Gods of old, and somewhere, wherever they are, they stand weeping over his beauty because they will never have him.

Say what you will about his devotion to Madame Révolution, right here and now Enjolras’s heart belongs entirely to you, and you’re half inclined to think he might make a romantic out of you for it.

It takes no effort at all for him to roll you, and suddenly you’re pressed into the mattress below him. There is only the briefest moment’s pause in rhythm as the momentum of changing positions causes his length to slip from your heat. You whimper at the loss of him, and he shushes you, petting your face to soothe you because, of course, he is coming right back.

You gaze up at him, beautifully flushed and disheveled, openly panting but still smiling as he kneels over you, supported on one strong arm and readjusting to compensate for the new angle. You splay your legs open wide to allow for him to slot in as close as possible against your core, letting him spread you a little further past the point of comfort with a gentle hand on your knee before hitching your legs up and around his hips.

You only briefly feel the broad flare of him at your entrance as he lines himself up before seating himself in you once again. He pushes all the way to the root in one quick snap of his hips that has you throwing your head back and arching into his touch with a loud, wanton moan.

He is suddenly so much deeper than he was before, thrusting into you, and you feel ready to come apart at the seams as he sets an agonizingly slow pace— pulling almost all the way out before snapping back again, each hungry thrust of his hips slamming home up against that most tender spot at your furthest wall to make you see stars and colors.

It’s punishment for how you teased him before, you know it must be, but this is how he likes it, painfully slow and hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall.

He likes to take his time while he dismantles you, but you are impatient.

You’re fisting your hands in the sheets and lifting your hips up off of the bed, trying to meet his every thrust despite how he pushes you back down with a strong hand and holds you there firmly. It is only enough to keep you teetering on the torturous edge, never enough to send you over, never too little to draw you back.

You can feel the litany of desperate noises tumbling from your lips more than you can hear them over the vulgar squelching sounds that fill the air with every pass of his cock against your sticky walls, the harsh slap of skin on skin, his soft grunting and moaning filling the room as he moves. The slick mess that drips down your thighs makes for a smooth glide in and out of you — you could almost blush to imagine how it must be pooling in your bedsheets and making a sopping wet mess of him as well as yourself.

It’s enough to make your toes curl and your walls flutter and clench over the length of him, drawing a low rattling moan from deep within his chest.

You’re only vaguely aware of the things Enjolras says to you, the little rhetorical questions and naughty phrases to which you can only nod along in affirmation, too drunk on the delicious sensation of being so perfectly stretched by him to form coherent thoughts or responses.

Yes, it feels good — so, so good. Yes, you like it when he fucks you like this —faster, more. Yes, you’re his good girl, taking him so well — don’t stop — yes, yes yes yes…!

The vice he has on your hips is a bruising thing, and where before there was the painfully slow in and out and in and out, he snaps his hip again, and suddenly he’s hilted in you to the base, pelvis pressed flushed to yours as he begins a slow, rutting grind, just the perfect amount of friction against your swollen, needy bud to have you writhing under his weight.

Your eyes roll back and slide shut as you press your head into the pillows, exposing the tender columns of your throat and mewling at the sensation of being so full.

“Oh— f-f-uh—!” You bite the curse off with a shrill gasp, one hand flying down to grip his wrist as his big palm splays over the lowest point of your belly, applying pressure there like he is in danger of bursting through your abdomen and means to contain himself. “E-Enjolras—please!”

You can feel the vibration of his gentle laughter buzzing into you through his cock and it’s nearly enough to make you seize.

“Yes, my darling?” He teases, “What is it?”

You’re not sure you could have answered him at that moment if your life depended on it, you aren’t even sure what you’re asking of him. You’ve suddenly got your lower lip pulled so tightly between your teeth that you half expect to taste blood as the heat in your abdomen quickly begins to wind itself into a tight, quivering coil.

The unconscious canting of your hips to rock against his ministrations is a desperate thing as you try to chase more friction and bring yourself to climax.

And then you feel his movements growing lax, slower and slower until his hips still entirely. It draws a pitiful whine from deep within you as the orgasm you’d been balancing on the edge of turns gossamer and slips through your fingers.

A calloused hand comes up to settle over your jaw then, and rubs tenderly up over your cheek. You feel his thumb brush away a dewiness you hadn’t been aware of forming on your lashes and suddenly the plush spread of his lips is at your throat.

“Open your eyes, mon amour —” he whispers, kissing the tender spot just beneath your ear, “Look at me.”

It takes some effort, but eventually, you obey, chest heaving and eyes blurry as you gaze up at him, suddenly leaning over you on his elbows. You reach up to brush stray curls from where they stick to his sweat-slicked forehead with a shaking hand and feel your chest swelling with emotion again.

He is so handsome and so kind, and he could so easily be yours — he would whisk you away from all this if only you would let him.

How you wish you would let him.

There are tears in your eyes then, spilling over your lashes and down your cheeks to pool at your jawline.

Enjorlas’s brows come together in tight-knit concern and the thumping of his heart against your own is almost enough to make you forget he’s still got his cock in you.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, so gently you could fall apart beneath him as he brushes the pad of his thumb over the spread of your lower lip, like a key unlocking the chest where you keep your most precious secrets.

The words tumble foolishly from your lips before you can stop them.

“I love you,” you gasp.

The confession is shocking, like the clanging of a bell. Ever so briefly, you watch something closer to hurt than you like to see on him flash across his dark eyes, shifted nearly black with wanting. The pained look is gone in an instant, replaced instead by a crumpled smile, like he can hardly believe he’s heard you correctly.

He’s professed his love to you a dozen times over, in and out of the heady spell of lovemaking, and you’ve dismissed the notion a dozen times again.

You’re both all too painfully aware of the hideous cliche you’ve found yourselves in, a man falling in love with a whore, begging her for her fidelity where she cannot offer it, making a thousand promises of the honest life they could live together if only she’d give herself over to him.

You’ve had countless other men make you similar, needy promises in the heat of the moment, caught in the vice of your pussy and teetering on climax, but those intentions always fade to dust the moment they spill over and come back to their senses.

Enjolras has never once gone back on his word, whether he is in his right mind or drunk on your flesh — you’re half inclined to believe he could deliver on those promises, make an honest woman of you, take you away to live with him in some little cottage where he would marry you and you’d raise a brood of wild children together.

You’re almost foolish enough to believe you could be happy together for more than a few fleeting moments of frenzied fucking. Still, your heart throbs in your chest for the impending consequences of what you have just done — you aren’t allowed to love him.

He searches your face for the answer to a question he has not yet asked as he draws an invisible tear down the side of your face with the line of his smallest finger.

His voice is thick and heady with indiscernible emotion when he speaks.

“Say it again.”

You shouldn’t. You ought to shut up, send him away, implore him to forget he ever learned your name, but you cannot.

You push up on your elbows to slot your mouth against his — kissing him to make him believe you, to somehow pass through him and whisper the closest kept secrets of your heart to his.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself to him, feeling the sticky drag of his chest hair against your peaked, sensitive nipples as he moves to snake an arm around your midsection.

“I love you,” you breathe against his lips. “I lov-”

He surges forward and kisses you again, a bruising press of his lips hard enough that you can barely move your mouth to return the gesture.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he suddenly rolls his hips, drawing back and thrusting in once more as he falls into a punishing pace, spurred into action by the admission — the reciprocation — of your feelings.

You brace a hand against the rattling headboard, clanging against the wall in time with the jostling of the bed frame, your high breathy voice answering the deeper timber of his own as he fucks into you in desperate search of his climax.

The coil in your belly grows tight and white hot again and you can feel the muscles in his abdomen growing tense against you.

In no time, his thrusting grows sloppy and erratic as he nears his finish and you grow eager for your own. He banishes your fingers with an aggressive swipe as they scrabble down to brush tight circles over your swollen nub, electing to get the job done himself. You jolt up needily against the calloused flesh of his thumb, abusing that tender bundle of nerves at a rapid-fire pace.

It boils over all too quickly.

Before you can think to open your mouth, warn him of your impending climax, you’ve come up and over, and the coil in your belly snaps.

Your body goes rigid, and you tremble with the agony of your ecstasy, washing over you like the surf, wave after powerful wave knocking you back again before you’ve had time to take a breath. You gasp out a strangled cry and dig your fingers into his arms, Enjolras’s pace only briefly faltering as your walls clench on him like a vice. He continues to fuck into you through your orgasm, stretching the release as far as it will go until you’ve strayed the line of overstimulation and you’re scrambling to try and get away from his punishing touch.

Thankfully, he is not far behind you.

He rolls his hips one, twice, thrice more before he’s pulling you as tight to him as he can manage, burying his face into the expanse of dewy flesh between your heaving breasts and spilling into you with a low guttural moan.

It’s almost enough to have you climaxing again, and you would have cried out at the bright, warm sensation flooding up against the quivering walls of your heat, if your voice were not trapped in your throat. He rolls his hips with each ropey spurt he leaves in you until finally he is spent and he collapses on top of you with a sigh of relief and the dead weight of his whole body.

Time ceases to matter, stretching infinitely before you as you lay together, breathing in tandem. Your lungs protest as they fight to expand, crushed into the mattress beneath him as you are, but you ignore their haughty complaints.

You consider never getting up, letting him slip beneath your skin and live like this in the bright, hazy moments of afterglow with sweat drying tacky on your bodies, the evidence of your joint efforts oozing from out between your legs around his softening cock. You sigh out your contentment, drawing lazy patterns across his back and relishing in how perfect this moment is, without the world pressing in on you.

Enjolras’s chest expands against you as he breathes deep and exhales, and you imagine the exhaustion tugging at him, threatening to lull him to sleep in your arms. You card your fingers through his hair, petting him and listening to the little pleased hums it draws from the hollow of his throat.

You could let yourself love him like this, almost imagining that you are in the life he’s promised you, tucked safely away in a little home, far removed from Paris and the troubles of your lives. Still, nothing lasts forever, and the gentle nagging of consequences begins to tug at you.

You can suddenly hear hushed, giggling voices outside your door and you grit your teeth against the violent feeling they stir in you.

Nasty little voyeurs.

You drum your fingers gently over Enjolras’s bicep and apply the slightest amount of pressure, prompting him to roll off and away from you so that you might sit up. You shiver at the jarring emptiness of his slipping out of you and you push up from the bed, crossing to the wash basin on shaky legs.

In your perfect life, you wouldn’t have to be so quick to wash him from you. You could relish in the sensation of being filled, the possibility of bearing his children, but this is not your perfect life, so you wet a rag and make quick work of cleaning yourself up.

You fetch your dressing down from where it lays discarded on the floor and shrug into it.

“Do you want me to go?” You hear Enjolras ask then, his voice thick and raw.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, breathing a little easier now though still so beautifully flushed. You watch him reach up and brush his hair back from his face with a boyish nervousness that plunges a dagger into your heart.

Of course, it occurs to you now how it might seem like a rejection, so hastily sloughing him off.

You smile and cross back to the bed, sinking down into the mattress and tucking yourself in against his body to banish the notion.

“No,” you purr, taking his face in your hands, “I want you to stay.”

The relief that passes over him is palpable as a tension you hadn’t been aware of until that moment clears.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks you, the rawness of the question so painfully sweet it puts a lump in your throat, “…that you love me?”

Your heart seizes in your chest, because how could he ask you such a question?

As easily as you can fool yourself into thinking it was true.

You watch him watching you, waiting for the faintest hint of a response, and you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. A brief, chaste peck that ends too soon and leaves you wanting to do it again and again.

You could waste the night kissing him like that, like bright notes of honey you are entirely too greedy for.

His hand flies up to shadow yours against his face, keeping you there as he turns into your touch and presses a gentle kiss to your palm.

But now you’ve left the question unanswered too long, and the faintest hint of that hurt look is back in his eyes.

“Do you love me?”

You hate to do it, but you have to address the consequences of your actions. You have to be practical for both your sakes.

“Of course I do, mon Chéri,” you sigh, “And you love me, but what does it matter when you have the revolution? Your citizen meetings and all the people who look to you for guidance?”

“What has one got to do with the other?” He huffs, “I love you independently of my duty to the revolution–”

You furrow your brow, because one has everything to do with the other. You are surprised at how he could be blind to that.

You think that perhaps it is a willful blindness.

“My love, you do nothing independent of your duty to the revolution when you are its leader.”

His jaw tightens and his brows come together as he immediately rejects the notion.

“I’m not–” he snaps, then takes a breath, taking up your hand as he corrects himself and speaks a little more gently, “No, I’m not … there are no leaders among us.”

You do your best to ignore the hurt that flashes across his face when you take your hand back.

“Oh no? And who do you think they’ll come for when the city is burning and the aristocracy cries out for someone to hang? Will you send someone else to the noose?”

He shakes his head in a way that you think is perhaps too petulant for someone in his position, with his resolve.

“It won’t come to that.” He says.

“Won’t it?” You press, and then you add with a biting tone, “Are you so unwilling to be a martyr to your cause?”

Enjolras levels you with an incredulous look, something almost halfway to hurt as he turns those big dark eyes on you. He is looking at you like he can’t believe what you’re saying, like you’re rejecting him.

“Why are we talking about this?” He implores, “What does it matter?”

“It matters if you love me. There is no room for love in revolution — you’re the one who preaches that.” you press, leaning into him when he looks away, defiant of his own words.

“I preach nothing.” He says sullenly.

“Don’t make yourself a hypocrite, Enjolras. Don’t give them that to use against you.”

You know he knows this, and were he not so caught in the vice of his feelings he would agree with you, but you also know he doesn't want to hear it anymore than you want to say it.

The silence that blooms between you is tense. You watch him flex his jaw and listen to him breathe, and you wonder if you’ve gone and ruined a perfectly splendid moment for nothing.

Then again what do you know about martyrs and causes? Perhaps you are wrong and it is not impossible, simply improbable.

Somehow you highly doubt that.

You sigh and bring your knees up to hug against your chest.

“Forgive me…” you begin, “It’s not my place to say it. I shouldn’t—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Would you come away with me if I asked?”

It is another shocking, bell-clanging moment, along the same vein of your own confession.

You’re fully aware of how you’re gawping at him, but you can hardly believe he even said it as the question lingers between you. The sudden change has you laughing, for shock rather than unkindness.

He remains steely in his resolve and waits for your answer.

“Come away with you?” You echo, and your heart thumps in anticipation of the answer you cannot give him — yes of course.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted. Still, humor is the soothing balm to the way your heart cries out in protest because you cannot go, no matter how desperately you want to ... and yet...

Not impossible... simply improbably...

“What could you possibly offer me enticing enough to abandon my life here, living in the lap of luxury?” You ask, beaming as you gesture grandly to the modest room, with its peeling wallpaper and holes in the ceiling.

In a strident contrast to the way you poke fun, Enjolras is serious as the plague as he takes up your hands again.

“I would offer you everything I have.” He says earnestly, “My life — my fidelity.”

The heat of his gaze is intense enough to have you turning shy and looking down at your hands, at the way he’s caressing your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

You're laughing again, suddenly giddy with possibility.

“Your fidelity? You would abandon your true love? All your work for the revolution? For me?”

He nods.

“For you, I would leave tonight.”

You hum thoughtfully, dropping your chin to the sinewy muscle of his shoulder.

“What about life and liberation of the working class?”

His voice is soft when he answers, rattling in his chest with a deeply tired sigh, like he hasn’t slept in months. You have to wonder whether he ever rests outside of your company.

“Let someone else fight for a change.” He says, his eyes growing distant. It is entirely uncharacteristic of him, and enough to make you think he might be serious.

He would leave — with you, no less — leave all that he knows behind for a love that is forbidden. How wonderfully uncharacteristic of him.

What a story yours is. A common whore and a jaded revolutionary.

How terribly cliche.

And then like a proposal, he moves so that he is kneeling in front of you, his soul bare for you to judge and do with what you like.

“Come away with me.” He says, “Be my wife.”

You cannot speak, your tongue has suddenly turned to cotton in your throat. You imagine saying yes, leaving tonight, but your heart is torn.

You could marry him, but with what money? He cannot afford to keep you and without an income, you cannot afford not to work. And what would leaving mean for the lives you left behind?

What would happen to girls like Marie and Clotilde without your guardianship? How many revolutions have died in their infancy because lesser men than Enjolras decided to leave the fight to someone else?

Amidst all these worries and questions, another series springs to the front of your mind and branches out, growing wild with reckless abandon.

Why does it all rest on your shoulders?

Why is it not enough just to be lovers?

It is a pretty dream, your other life in a little house, married happily and rearing curly-haired children with their father’s dark eyes — why should you be doomed to live your life resigned to dreaming?

Why? Why why why? ...Why not?

For half a moment, you watch Enjorlas crumple before you, like he is anticipating the rejection.

Your heart breaks for him.

How conflicting it must be to balance his two selves, the stalwart revolutionary with the desperate romantic.

If only his compatriots knew how he suffered for the revolution, you fear they would tear him to pieces.

You would shield him from that if you could.

You bring your hand up to cup his jaw on one side, and then the other, and you draw him to you.

"Your fidelity won't put bread on my table," you say softly, "But I would take it if you let me, if only because you offered it to me."

His eyes widen ever so briefly, and his face splits into that big, shining grin again. He laughs, too struck to speak like he had already resigned himself to the slow death of your impending rejection, and to hear the opposite has wiped clean the slate of his mind.

You love it when he's speechless.

You can’t stop your lips from quirking up into a shy smile. “Unless you didn’t mean it–?” You tease, but he doesn't let you finish, crashing forward to press a bruising kiss to your lips.

“I meant it.” He says quickly, breathlessly between kisses – his hands come up to grasp your shoulders and hold you to the spot, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t have a hand on you, you’ll slip away.

You smile against his lips.

“Then I will come away with you.”

You let him kiss you and bask in the unbridled warmth blooming in your chest because now you never have to stop.

There is nothing more to keep you apart. He is yours to have as you please forever, and you are his.

Somewhere, in the belly of the house, you think you hear the slamming of the front door, the telltale commotion of the Madam's return, but you can't make yourself care. This is the last night you'll spend in this wretched place, the last time you'll have to steal for a moment of intimacy with the man you love. You think on what Enjolras said before, about letting someone else fight for a change, and while you know he won't stop his fighting, you resign yourself to letting go of your own battles with a strange lightness.

You know he won't give up on the revolution. She is the other woman in his life, after all, but you are pleasantly surprised to find that you don't mind sharing him.

You’d been so worried he would make a romantic out of you, you’d never once considered he might make a revolutionary out of you.

A courtesan turned revolutionary’s wife — how perfectly wonderful.

#bbc enjolras #enjolras x reader #bbc les mis #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x you #reader insert #not gonna outright put this in the general les mis tag because ya girl knows better #i'm not super happy with how this ended but I needed it to end because I'm incapable not not writing long fics #and this is about the smut everybody please #if you find typos no you didn't i've been staring at this so long i've gone cross eyed #can you tell i wrote this in a fever after rewatching moulin rouge? #its about the yEARNING #it's about the FORBIDDEN LOVE