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etfrin · 5 months

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⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem

⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)

He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.

When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.

His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”

You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.

He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.

You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.

Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.

Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”

You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.

Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.

You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.

You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.

One. Snow was here.

Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.

Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.

And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.

A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.

“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.

He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.

Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.

Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.

He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.

“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.

“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.

Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.

His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”

With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”

“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.

The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.

You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.

He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.

His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.

He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.

He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.

All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.

The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.

His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.

“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.

The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.

You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.

His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.

“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.

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markster666 · 3 months

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Every Thought, You. (SFW)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Flirting, SFW, Romance

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 958

A/N: Thank you to @persephoneblck for this base writing prompt suggestion (with my own tweaks/spin). Unedited. Requests are open.

Ever since coming to the hotel, you have felt much less alone than you have ever felt in the duration of your life in Hell. Charlie was the first to greet you with open arms before you could even knock twice on the big, wooden doors. Vaggie was aprehensive about your arrival at first but quickly grew accustomed to you, mostly for Charlie's sake. Husk simply tolerated you and Angel Dust constantly flaunted his figure to... everyone. It made you chuckle sometimes but more out of pity. Every day and night, like clockwork, you did your exercises for supposed future rehabilitation and sometimes they made you feel more alone than ever, but you never felt judged by anybody there.

Not even Alastor.

The first time you two met, he was sitting at the bar, annoying Husk for another drink. You had arrived a couple days prior and had already settled in a good amount. You walked past the bar, not even paying attention to the deer demon staring at you, wide grinned. You almost reached your room before you heard a booming radio-esque voice behind you,

"Well HELLO there my dear! Haven't seen you around!"

You felt your heart skip a beat at the sudden noise and quickly turned around, taking in Alastor's features. His eyes reflected the red of the hotel walls, beaming at you. His ears twitched a bit at the sight of you, but his wide grin didn't falter even for a millisecond. He was dramatically hunched over with his hand out to shake yours. You stared at his hand for a bit until he retreated it as a sign that he caught on to your discomfort and he stood up straight.

"Apologies my dear, your look of fear is something I am graciously used to. I just wanted to extend my welcomes to you. Please indulge in my presence if you feel it necessary, I would LOVE to know what makes you tick!"

His head ticked to the side at the final word before turning on his heel and walking off.

As the weeks turned into months, Alastor's voice no longer startled you and his presence became comfort. You thought him charming and he thought you riveting. He allowed you access into his radio tower, even on his recording days. He had memorized your favorite song and learned it on every instruement and how pancakes make you nauseous in the mornings so you prefer oatmeal for breakfast. You once told him a new cologne of his smelled like all the good things in life, so now that's all he cares to wear. He learned that you have trouble sleeping without white noise, so he'll sit for hours next to your bed, gently humming in his radio voice your favorite songs. Your heart was pure and his heart was warm.

Alastor decided that tonight was the night that he was going to be open about his continuously growing feelings for you. He had gone through several sheets of paper in an attempt to write the perfect confession note and he finally settled on one. Earlier that afternoon, he had invited you to his room to talk and you said you'd be there. You have only been in his room once before because you went in with Val to ask Alastor to get rid of Sir Pentious's Egg Bois.

He heard a knock on the door and took one last deep breath before locking in his smile again and slamming the door open before you could knock again.

"Why hello there Darling, you look absolutely ravishing as usual my Dear!"

He gave you a quick kiss on your hand before leading you into his room and shutting the door behind him, helping you shrug off your jacket before hanging it up on a nearby hook.

"Please, My Dear, make yourself comfortable!"

You walked further into his room, scanning your surroundings before stopping right in front of the undefined line of where his physical room and the forest meet. Your eyes sparkled as you gazed up at the skyline.

"Alastor, your forest is absolutely beautiful."

He walked briskly to join you.

"Ah, yes, isn't it? I imported it myself. I delight in many meals here."

The sky stunned your senses. There were fireflies flying around the trees that rose submissively to the vast sky. The lavish green of the trees complimented well with the hues of blue shading above, the glow of the fireflies adding a etherial touch to it all. The thick fog made the sky's autonomy seem endless.

"It may just be the most beautiful thing i've seen in all of Hell."

Alastors eye twitches very slightly and his ears furrow backwards.

"I have to strongly agree with you, my Dear. Every time I gift my eyes with the sight of this, it helps me remember that there are still some fine things down here with me. I may be a connoisseur in all things audio, but nothing beats this kind of visual. I would relish in it for eternity if I could."

You glanced at him to show him that you were listening, only to have your eyes make direct contact with each other. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt his gaze penetrate you.

He was staring at me while he was saying that.

You smiled at him warmly as it finally clicked. He walked behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, gently massaging them as you both turned your gazes back to the forest.

"You, mon cher, are allowed to stay in my dreams every night. Always."

You took a deep breathe and closed your eyes, enjoying all of the sensations around you.

"And you in mine, Alastor."

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #radio demon #the radio demon #sfw

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crxss01 · 10 months

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Okay, so if Miles (e!42) is a boob guy, and Miles (e!1610) is a ass guy, who likes thighs? 🤭

— My Boy

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x reader, 1610!miles morales x reader, hobie brown x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ they just love using your thighs as stress balls and as pillows too.

warnings ✧˖ ° cuddling, squeezing + kissing + smacking of thighs, mature themes, cursing, reader has she/her pronouns.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ princesa: princess, quítate de arriba de ella, ahora mismo: move off of her, right now, querida: dear, buenas noches: good night, mi angelito: my little angel, bonito: handsome/or pretty boy, bebé: baby.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, love! this had me thinking a lot and i loved writing this for you. hope you enjoy!

now if you were asking between the two miles who is the thighs boy, the answer is both.

42!miles morales

miles was laying in bed his head on the pillow, one arm covering half of his face as he watched you walk around his room only wearing his shirt that reached barely pass your ass. his focus being on the movement of your thighs and wanting nothing more than to touch them at the moment, but you were doing your own thing.

“princesa, come back to bed.” he groaned.

“i can’t, miles. i don’t know why i do this to myself.” you complained. “always waiting last minute to finish shit.”

you had a school project due tomorrow and you had previously decided that you only wanted to spend time with your boyfriend all weekend so that’s what you did, but then your friend had texted you saying how much your final grade depended on that project so now here you were trying to get started on it.

“mami, i’ll let you use mine if you want.” he offered, and sat up. “i’m doing good in that class, way too good so that bald headed teacher can’t fail me for not doing his project.”

“you did it already?” you asked, turning around and looking at him surprised.

“yeah, on friday during free time.” he shrugged like it was nothing.

you slid your hand down your face. “why am i not as smart and organized as my boyfriend.”

“i’ll be smart enough for both of us.” he walked to you and picked you up, hands on your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him.

“thank you.” you kissed him and he gladly returned the kiss.

miles was squeezing you thighs, kneading the soft flesh like it was nothing more than dough and you hummed against his lips, loving the feeling. he ran his hand up and down then squeezed, repeating this process over and over again.

“i just love them.” he pulled away before connecting his lips to your neck, placing you on his bed, your head landing on his pillow and his hands never leaving your thighs.

“miles morales!”

he moved so fast, covering you with his blanket and looking at his mom as she stood at his bedroom door, hand on her hips.

“quítate de arriba de ella, ahora mismo!” tía morales yelled at her son, then calmed down when he did as she ordered, looking at your flustered expression with a smile. “i’m about to leave for my shift, querida. but don’t hesitate to call me if he tries something else. buenas noches!” she closed the door.

miles rolled his eyes and looked at you with a smirk.

“nope.” you shook your head. “you heard what she said.” you put on a serious face, trying hard not to laugh. “try something and i’ll call her.”

“whatever,” he took the off of you and opened your legs. “i’m going to sleep then, right in here.” he laid his head on your thigh and then put the other thigh on top his head.

“miles, this position is not comfortable.”

“for me it is,” he dismissed. “sleep well, mi angelito.”

“bonitoo, get off…” you groaned.

yeah, your thighs were going to be sore when you wake up tomorrow because there is no way to move him away from there.

1610!miles morales

“bonito!”

“bebé!” miles exclaimed when he caught you after you practically jumped on top of him.

“i missed you.” you told him, pulling up his spiderman mask just above his nose and leaving a peck on his lips.

“i was only gone for an hour.” he chuckled.

“i know.” you complained. “that’s too long.”

“i will take a shower and then make it up to you, is that okay?” he offered.

“only if you let me shower with you.” you gave him a cheeky grin.

you both laid down on his bed after taking a shower together that was full of water fights and gossip about criminal’s and people from your school, also a few kisses were shared here and there. miles even washed your legs for you, but you knew damn well he just wanted to touch your thighs.

now he was placing kisses on both of them as his head was on your lower abdomen.

“i wish i could just stay here forever.” he sighed, delivering another kiss to your right thigh.

“well you can’t.” you laughed. “i will get tired of keeping them up for you, bonito.”

“i can always have my webs hold them up for you.”

“what? no!” you laughed harder at that. “don’t say stuff like that, bonito.”

“i would do it though, bebé.” he smiled, placing a kiss to your left thigh. happy to make you laugh like that. “just say the word and i’ll do it.”

“it’s fine, bonito.” you shook your head with a smile. “i’ll keep them up for you.”

“thank you.” he gave a full teeth smile and pulled your thighs closer to his face until he was squeezed in between them.

you took a picture of him because he looked so adorable, adding it to your mi bonito <3 album.

now if you meant a character aside from this two then it is…

hobie brown

ever since hobie met you he had a tendency of just staring at your thighs and when you two became official he wouldn’t just stare at it, he would smack it as well.

you didn’t mind at all but at times like this, like right now that you two were in public and he had just gone for it and smacked your thigh from behind you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

your head was buried in his arm after that, the fabric of his jacket rubbing your face as you two walked alongside each other. hobie had the audacity to do it again and chuckle when he had the reaction he wanted from you.

“sweetheart, it’s alright. they don’t give a fuck.” he nonchalantly said, pointing at everyone around you and showing how nobody was paying attention to you two.

“it doesn’t matter, stop.” you said, taking your face away from his arm. you weren’t serious even though you were embarrassed, you absolutely loved how much he liked your thighs. it made you feel a lot confident about them.

“should’ve thought about that before wearing that skirt.” he shrugged, then his arm moved away from your grip, coming down to your thigh and squeezing it.

“hobie!” you half-screamed, looking around to see if anybody was watching you.

“what is it, sweetheart?” he sounded so innocent.

this fucker.

“don’t do this in public.”

“okay. i’ll do much more in private, then.” he simply said.

your thigh was slapped then squeezed once again.

taglist: @hoseokslefteyebrow @anikaluv

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

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cosmoeticss · 1 year

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Haven’t I Been Good to You? | Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader (18+)

my masterlist

Words: 2K

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Neice!Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), good old fashioned targcest, p n v, overall bad writing because I haven’t properly written in so long

Note: Reader is Rhaenyra’s heir/eldest daughter and the argument takes place after the dinner scene. I tried not to use any physical descriptors but those gorgeous targaryen platinum locks so I hope thats okay and you enjoy. Literally crawling in my skin right now because I’m about to post this, existing is an embarrassment, if you see this ily thank you for reading.

part two

Aemond was anything but cooled off when he returned to his marital chambers that night. He bound into the room, his displeasure from the night clear in his body language and his labored breathing. His wife sat stoically in front of her vanity, clad in only her night dress as she combed through the length of her silky, silver curls.

Aemond stared her down in disbelief as she barely acknowledged him. How could she honestly be angry with him? It was her bastard brothers who started the disagreement, who started the rivalry to begin with, who teased him their whole childhood and took his eye that fateful night on Driftmark. And here she sat, his wife, shoulders back and proud and angry with him.

Gods, she was beautiful when she was angry. If he didn't know her so well he wouldn't be able to tell. She was so serene and regal and surprisingly calm when she was upset. He often thought of how opposite they were in that sense. He thought of how hot tempered and quick to snap he was, and how she thought everything through before it slipped from her pretty lips. He envied this about her, and yet it was what he had loved most about her as well.

Aemond couldn't help it. He broke first. "Where are the children?" He inquired, steadying himself to the best of his ability.

She hardly gave him the time of day as she answered, her eyes not leaving her own reflection. "I've settled them into bed,” she said.

The Prince furrowed his brow. "Did you not think that I would wish to bid goodnight to my sons?"

"The hour is late. They've had their fill of excitement for the day, Husband."

Husband. Not her usual 'my dearest love,' not 'my darling.' He was in trouble far more than what he had bargained for. He eyed her in disbelief. "You're truly taking their side?"

She finally turned then, vast (e/c) eyes meeting his violet one. "There is no side to be taken, Aemond,” he hated her formality when they argued, "We are a family. We're supposed to be on the same side. Did you see how pleased the poor King was to see everyone finally getting along? Our mothers finally found some common ground after all of these years and yet you ruined an otherwise pleasant night with your wounded pride."

"My wounded pride?" he spat harshly, raising his voice at her. "Did you not see the way your beloved brother laughed as they sat a roasted pig in front of me? Or have you forgotten the torment I was subject to as a child? What do you expect to me to do, (Y/N)?"

She stood then, the silk of her long night dress accentuating her rounded stomach. "You are to be the Royal Consort one day, you will be King!" she scolded him sternly, silencing him. "I expect you to be the bigger person. I expect you to act with dignity and not meet the teasing of a child with the ferocity that you did tonight!"

Aemond softened at this, turning away from her to face the burning embers of the hearth. He did not retaliate, only moving to sit in a chair placed in front of it. He gripped the arms of the seat trying to calm himself, breathing deeply.

His wife watched him carefully. "It is not fair. I know it isn't," she swallowed, her eyes glazed over as she did. "I know that it angers you that I love my family after all my brothers have done to you, after what Lucerys has taken from you and I am sorry, Aemond. I truly am."

He was silent still, eye glued to the flames before him as if they were the most important thing in the room. "I cannot keep atoning for crimes I did not commit," her voice was almost pleading as she stepped closer to him then, slowly, testing the water carefully. When he did not retaliate, she kneeled on the floor in front of him. "I know that you would not have chosen me to wed on our own, dear husband."

Her hands reached out to take his, and he allowed it, watching down the bridge of his nose as his wife gently held his hands in her small ones and brought them both to her lips, kissing them tenderly and repeatedly. "We have been honest and good to each other in these near seven years as man and wife, though," she stated, eyes wide and pleading as she rested her chin on his knee. "Have I not been a good to you?"

"You have," Aemond's voice cracked, his eyes fluttering shut at her soft inquisition. He breathed deeply, removing one of his hands from hers and carding it through her beautiful hair. “My love.”

"I have given you my body, mind, and soul. I have given you my virtue, and my fidelity. My heart has only ever belonged to you," she whispered as her husbands tensity began to dissolve between her nimble fingers and lips. Her soft kisses continuing slowly up his arm. "I have bore you two beautiful, healthy boys. Boys that will be Kings and Warriors one day, and I carry another inside me."

The air was stolen from her as Aemond halted her pecking and surged forward, lifting her swiftly from the stone floor to straddle his lap as if she weighed nothing. She gazed down at him, moving to gently remove her husbands eye patch. He hadn't minded the action for years now, as it was a bother to wear and his pretty wife had never judged his appearance or what he had lost all those years ago. She set the patch on the end table next to them, not taking her eyes off of him as her hands slid up his shoulders and found their home at his jawline. Her thumbs moved in slow circles on his face.

"I have given you power," he whimpered at this, gripping the soft meat of her thighs. "Outside the walls of this chamber you are my equal, and one day we will rule the Seven Kingdoms side by side, however we see fit to."

"Yes," he groaned hoarsely, continuing his kneading at her thighs, sitting up to press his lips to her throat, leaving hot opened mouth kisses down her neck to the swell of her breasts as he detangled the strings of her shift, baring her supple chest to him.

"You would like that wouldn't you, My King?" Aemond growled in agreement, continuing his ravishing as she slipped her fingers to the base of his neck and weaved them into his hair, gripping it tightly. "And in this room, you will rule me as you see fit."

"If that we're true then I would bound you to our bed, little wife," he sank his teeth delicately into the flesh of her breast, tongue swirling against the skin, causing her head to snap back in pleasure and a breathy moan to fall from her lips. "You would never leave these chambers. Who would be left to rule if I'm buried inside this sweet cunt for all of our lives, hmm?"

"You have many years before we are crowned for me to ride you, my dragon. And I plan to mount you morning and night,” she grinding into him, their lips meeting finally in a messy kiss. "Surely you'll tire of bedding me by then."

"Never," he pressed his forehead to hers, their breathing hot as he moved a large slender hand to cover her swollen stomach. "I enjoy no sight more than your belly swollen with our children."

She rutted her hips against his once more, her weeping cunt begging for friction. "Please, my dearest love"

"I wonder how the realm would feel if they knew the truth of their precious Princess?" he smirked as she fucked herself on his covered length. "If they knew how she begged for me each night? How wet she gets without me even having to touch her."

"Aemond, please," she wined.

"You wish to ride your dragon, my Queen?" he began hiking up her night dress to rest on her hips.

She panted at his movements, so tender, so achingly slow and teasing. "Yes," she whimpered.

He cocked his brow at her. "What's stopping you? Claim me then."

She didn't have to be told twice. Her trembling hands moved frantically to the strings of his pants, unfastening them and pulling them down to his thighs. He hissed as she took his length into her hand, stroking it sweetly before he lifted her hips and guided her to sink down on him. Her eyes screwed shut, crying out in pleasure as she adjusted to the size of him. Neither of them moved for a moment, their breathing tense and labored.

Aemond brushed a lock of hair out of his wife's face, her forehead falling to meet his as he cradled her head with his hand. "Alright?"

"Mhm," she hummed needily, bracing herself as her hands dropped to his shoulders. Aemond's free hand moved to cover the swell of her stomach, a lazy grin forming on his lips, before finding it's way to her hips once more, helping to roll them against his. Aemond cursed, his jaw going slack as his wife unraveled above him. Once she found her footing, she picked up her pace, bobbing up and down steadily, her finger nails curling into his shoulders. His hips snapped up to meet hers, and she cried out, his name tumbling from her lips like a prayer. Something came undone in him at the sound, his hands were everywhere then, cupping her full breasts, wrapped around her throat, sinking into her thighs. He was pawing at her like she would disappear if he let go for one second, grunting like a wild animal as he rutted against her.

"So good," he captured her lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth clashing. "So pretty and all mine."

She babbled something nonsensical in appraisal, her heat clenching around his cock as he worshipped her, their movements becoming sloppy as they approached their peak. "I'm so close."

"Say you love me," he demanded, fingers making their way to her pearl as he toyed with it, causing her to squeak at the touch. "Tell me again that you're mine and mine alone."

"Please," she panted, whimpering as he fucked into her relentlessly, hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."

Aemond's fingers were torture, slow and taunting. "Say it." "I'm yours," she cried out. "Only yours. Please--"

"Let go," he permitted, following close behind as she toppled over the edge, back arching and eyes rolling back as she was overcome with pleasure. They were still, chests heaving and hot breath mingling as they came down from their shared orgasm. Her nimble fingers tangled into his hair, brushing it away from his sweat soaked neck. He fell back into the chair, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "I would've chosen you," he broke the silence after a long moment. She lifted her head slightly to look him in the eye, confusion evident as if she had not registered what he said. "When you said that you weren't the wife I would have chosen for myself. If I had been presented with a choice, I would've chosen you."

Her gaze softened at the sincerity and raw emotion flickering in his eye. "Then choose me now. Choose our family," she gripped his shirt tightly, pleading with him. "Love me more than you hate them."

Aemond sighed deeply, covering her hands with his. "I do love you. More than anything."

"Then promise you will try." Neither wanted to admit what they both knew, that even if he did, it was too late. The King's health dwindled more and more by the day, and the wounds cut between the Greens and the Blacks were too old and too deep for even their love to heal. The time was coming where they would have to choose. War was looming and their last chance at peace had slipped through their fingers like flowing water. So they didn't, and chose in silence to carry on pretending while they still could.

Aemond cupped her face gently, and pulled her into a soft, sweet kiss. "I promise," he whispered, the sweetest of lies, and he met her lips again in a more fervent kiss.

And she let herself hope, she let her self believe, just a little while longer.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #Aemond Targaryen fanfic #aemond x velaryon!reader #hotd aemond #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #hotd #hotd imagine #ewan mitchell

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

"He Does Know"

The requested part two to "He Can't Know" It can be read as a follow on or as a stand alone.

I'm, maybe, 10000% sure that my ankle is broken so I've been sat in my bed all day trying to write this (no, my ankle definitely isn't broken. I twisted it when rather drunk last night, but it's an already bad ankle so I am in so much pain :')

Part One

When Y/N Wolff told her father about her relationship, she fully expected him to go to the Ferrari garage, bat in hand. But he didn't. Y/N was actually frightened about how calm he was.

The next race was Monaco, Charles' home race. The only people who knew about their relationship was them, and Y/N's dad. It was all a question of what to do next.

Whatever that next step was, Monaco was the perfect place to do it.

The Wednesday before the race was when Y/N arrived in Monaco. Her father hadn't booked her a room in a hotel this time. This time around, she was to stay with her boyfriend.

It was weird. When Y/N first arrived in Monaco and Charles had somebody pick her up, it was awkward. When she made her way to his apartment, it was awkward. When Charles let her in, it was awkward.

"I can't believe this is your first time in my apartment," he said as Y/N sat at the kitchen island.

When he handed her a glass of wine, Y/N gratefully accepted it. "It's really nice," she answered him, looking around. "I'm really happy to be here."

She really was, she was just having a hard time expressing it. It was weird, having their relationship so out in the open. It was weird, not hiding away in the empty corridors. It was weird, being with him and not have to hide away.

It took Y/N an hour or two to properly settle in. Charles helped speed that process along. The sat together on the couch, watching a movie that didn't much need their attention. By the end of it Y/N had a tongue down her throat and couldn't tell you what the movie was about.

"Where do we go from here?" She asked when he finally pulled away.

"What do you mean, mon ange?"

"I mean, now that my dad knows, do we announce it to the world? Do we post it on our social media? Do we just tell the grid?" She sat back beside him, laying her head on his shoulder.

Charles went red. "Well, Max already knows," he confessed.

That settled it then, they were going to tell the grid.

***

Y/N and Charles couldn't yet walk around the paddock hand in hand. They weren't yet ready to be seen by the press together. So, Y/N and Charles resorted to telling the grid individually.

As Charles went around to Red Bull and McLaren, he got congratulated and clapped on the pack. As Y/N told Mercedes and Williams, her father watched over her shoulder, glaring as people congratulated her. They couldn't hug her like they did Charles, not if they wanted to survive the wrath of her dad.

When the entire grid knew, it was like a weight had been taken off Y/N's shoulders. Not a huge weight, but it definitely helped. Now, they just had to get up the courage to tell the rest of the world.

It was funny, wasn't it? How life works out sometimes? If Y/N hadn't resented her father so much, she never would have tried to reconcile with him and she never should have met Charles.

It was all she was thinking about during the race. That, and him. It was her first time at the Monaco Grand Prix, the first time in his home country.

Watching the race was quite an experience. Y/N spent the race with her nails between her teeth, biting them out of anxiety. Monaco was maybe the most anxiety-inducing race on the calendar. As Y/N watched Charles moving around the tight corners, she was sweating.

No podium in Monaco for Charles, but that was expected. His curse, if you will. But still, Y/N celebrated. And, as she celebrated his win hidden away in the dark corner of the Mercedes garage, she realised she was ready.

She was ready to go public. She was ready to tell the world about her love for Charles Leclerc. If it only meant she got to celebrate his races with him.

Still, this was something Y/N wanted to go to her father about. Maybe even ring Susie and ask for her advice. And definitely talk to Charles about it.

Later that evening, tucked away in his home in Monaco, Y/N and Charles talked. They were wrapped in a duvet, the windows opened as they laid together, bare skin on bare skin. "You were amazing today," she said as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp with her nails. "I love watching you race."

"I love knowing that you're there watching me. I love that everybody on the track with me knows I have the most stunning girl out there," he replied and kissed the top of her head.

Y/N sat up and Charles sat up with her. "I just wish we could celebrate together."

He looked at her with wide eyes. "You mean, tell the world?"

She nodded.

That evening, Y/N posted to her Instagram story. It was a soft launch, one of the softest launches most F1 fans had ever seen. It was just a picture of his bed, the Ferrari hat on the end of it being a dead giveaway.

Y/N watched as the fans went feral. It was incredible to watch. The tweets and twitter mentions were non stop, the comments on her latest Instagram post (which had nothing to do with Charles) were going crazy.

Charles was next. He pulled up his Instagram on his phone, which was already going crazy, and moved to post a picture. It was cute, one they’d taken in the hotel room during the Australian Grand Prix. Charles holding Y/N on the couch mid cuddle.

The internet went insane.

They got congratulations from their friends in comments and private messages. Even Susie left a comment on Charles’ picture. And then she sent Y/N a message, asking why she was the last to hear about. Of course Y/N had to send back an apology to her step mother, accompanied by a candid of her and Charles

Now, the world knew. It was freeing. Y/N could express her love without fear. There was no telling what her father would do when she swapped her Mercedes hat for a Ferrari one.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc smut

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st7rnioioss · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ is there someone else?

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: angst, happy ending, fluff, kissing, not proofread!!!

a/n: hi guys. sorry if this sucks ass, ive never rlly attempted to write angst before. hope i did it somewhat right LMFAOOO.

i took inspo from @evie-sturns 's empty bed!! make sure to check theirs out if u havent already😉😉

౨ৎ

The last few days had been rough for you. Work had completely consumed all of your time and energy out of you.

Your days consisted of waking up, drinking a redbull, work, redbull, more work, and sleep. This cycle had left you completely ruined Friday night.

Finally, you closed your computer, looking at the clock in your kitchen.

12:46 am. Fuck.

You slowly opened the door into your and Matt’s room, finding him sitting back against the headboard, watching TikTok. You slowly snuggled into bed beside Matt, wrapping an arm around his waist, trying to pull him closer to you. He didn’t budge. You kinda expected him to put his phone down and wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, but no.

“Matt, is everything alright?” you mumbled, looking up at him. He didn’t pay attention to his phone that was playing, but he was avoiding your stare.

“Hm,” was all he said, continuing to mindlessly scroll. This was very unlike Matt, which irritated you. What the fuck had you done to piss him off this much? Normally he wouldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“Alright..” you murmured, almost whispering as you turned your back to him, trying to fall asleep. Of course, you couldn’t. You never went to bed without a “goodnight” or at least a kiss on the forehead. There was silence for God knows how long, until he put his phone down to go to sleep. He turned his back against yours. This kinda pissed you off as well, but you didn’t act on it. Instead, you turned to face his back, running a hand from his shoulders down his back.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snapped, pulling away from your touch.

What the actual fuck?

“Matt, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been acting strange all day! Just tell me what’s going on. Is it me? Work? Your brothers? Fans?” you tried guessing, but he didn’t budge. He didn’t want to join you for lunch earlier, dinner, even when you asked him if he wanted to go for a walk, which he normally never let down.

You were sitting up, leaning over his body that was in a fetal position. He then sat up in front of you, looking down at you, his face serious.

“You wanna know what’s wrong? You’ve been ignoring me all fucking week. We haven’t exchanged a word, you’ve gone to bed without telling me, and we’re eating dinner at different times now, and you’re always on your goddamn phone! Are you avoiding me?” he yelled with a frown, his lower lip quivering. What?

“Matt, you’re starting to sound like my mom! I’ve been working my ass off all fucking week, don’t put it all on me! I’m sorry that I’m busy working and can’t be all over you all the time, but I actually have meetings to be in, emails to answer, and reports to write!” you yelled back. Tears were now rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t realize it until now, but practically your whole body was shaking, from both anger, but also an intense amount of anxiety. You’ve only been in a fight with Matt once, and it never got to this point.

There was silence for a bit. Your eyes were darting between his, your breaths quickening.

“Y/n, is there someone else?” he then whispered, his teeth gritted. Tears were brimming in his waterline, ready to roll down his cheeks. You stiffened. Someone else?

“What- Matt, no! No, there is no one else!” you were blinking quickly, not even trying to hold back the tears that were forming in your eyes, once again.

“I’ll go sleep on the couch…” he whispered with a slow nod, grabbing his pillow from the bed, and standing up to walk to the couch. Um, what?

You lied in bed for an hour or two. Maybe three. Your mind was still processing what you and Matt had just discussed. Had I really been doing all that unintentionally? Am really such a shitty girlfriend? Then you decided to go down to the living room where Matt was. You just couldn’t agree to go to sleep while being mad at each other.

Slowly, you listed down the stairs into the living, immediately spotting Matt on the couch, again tucked up in a fetal position.

“Matt? Are you awake?” you whispered, leaning over him to run a hand through his hair. Matt then slowly turned his head, opening his red eyes to look at you.

“Oh, Matt..” you cooed, frowning your brows. He had been crying, hard. Matt’s pillow was basically drenched. You sat down on the couch, cupping his face to pull him into your chest.

Matt immediately broke into sobs, wrapping his arms around your waist, just above your hip.

“I’m so so sorry, Matt. Work has been sucking the energy out of me. I’ve been such a shit girlfriend,” your voice broke a couple of times as you whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. Matt was still crying, nuzzling his face into your shirt (which had been his once).

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, I know how tough it can be. I’m so sorry, I just- I miss you. I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for a whole week,” he cried, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers were trailing up and down your back, occasionally rubbing circles against your soft skin.

“I know, and that’s my fault. I need to balance work and my life with you. You mean the world to me.” you chuckled slightly through your own tears. “And no, there is no one else. I’m so madly in love with you, you wouldn’t believe it,” you laughed, earning a soft chuckle from Matt as well.

He raised his head from your embrace, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, pulling you closer to him, and leaving a gentle kiss on your lips. A small smile played on your lips as he kissed you. You then pulled away, resting a hand on his cheek, gently wiping the, almost dried-out, tears off of his cheeks.

“I love you even more. And I’m sorry for being an ass, again. I swear, I’ll make it up to you this weekend,” you whispered, a giggle leaving your lips as you realized Matt was blushing.

You ended the night cuddled up with Matt on the couch. The both of you were way too tired to go all the way up to your bedroom, but you didn’t mind. At all actually. The tight space, huge soft blanket, Matt’s body pressed up against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Couldn’t get any better. He occasionally left small I love you’s, kisses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder, and the crook of your neck, which made you chuckle tiredly since it tickled.

“Matt stop, I’m way too tired. We can do this all day tomorrow, I promise, just please let me sleep,” you yawned, trying to push him away.

“Fine,” he huffed, leaning closer to you. “We should go out for lunch on Sunday. I’ll pay,” he mumbled, his voice rasped from the crying earlier, his fingers playing with your hair.

“Is that an invite? Or an order?” you giggled, turning your head to face him in the dim light from the moon.

“Take it as I don’t have a choice, hm?”

“Alright then, as long as you pay you’ve got my attention,” you joked, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You’re sure he was blushing because the rest he was saying just came out as stutters and nervous mumbles.

a/n: heloo i hope u liked this🤗 i dont know why i linked the song, i just really like the cover LMFAOOOO

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriiniie @lacysturniolo @ukiyosturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @sturniolho @cupidzsq

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

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munsster · 11 months

Text

brain like a sieve

A/N: i am on a MAD ONE with the way im writing. she has motivation and inspiration and fingers of STEEL. (gif creds: @neblisi )

Pairings: Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Summary: Eddie’s on top of the world when you tell him you love him. So much so, in fact, that he forgets to say it back. 0.8k words

Warnings: established relationship, kissing, fluff, insecurity, obliviousness, pet names (bunny, bug, lovebug), ONE half swear word (i SWEAR it took so much self control, i dont know how i limited myself)

You’ve got this fiery look in your eye right before you say it that distracts him.

“I love you, Eddie.”

And your hair is wild and your hands are wound into the collar of his shirt and he can’t help but wonder what divine force of nature got him here. Made him so lucky.

And in the midst of everything: Eddie forgets to say it back.

He kisses you sweetly and holds you at the waist, drinking in the way you look at him and tug him closer. But he still doesn’t say it back. A minute passes, and everything settles and he thinks you’re beautiful and you love him, and he forgot to say it back.

You go home in a frenzy. Why didn’t he say it back? You can barely do your laundry without running the conversation over in your head. Did you do something wrong? You think you’ll wait a week, give it time, maybe he’ll call and say it. Maybe he’s still processing it. Does he not love you back? You end up waiting two days before calling him in the middle of the night.

“Okay! We can talk, lovebug. Why don’t you come over tomorrow night? I’ll order takeout.”

You can hear Eddie’s smile through the phone, completely unfazed by the ungodly hour and by the confusion and hurt in your voice. Your eyes go wide, and you slowly nod.

“Yeah… that works,” you say.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

But you’re still confused. He spoke and smiled like nothing was the matter. Like you hadn’t been down on your knees with devoted confession for him. Maybe he just didn’t hear you. Except you know he heard you because you said it in the rest between laughter and conversation and the way he gave you a soft smile meant he had to have heard you.

“I brought cupcakes.” You stand on his porch steps, shivering from the cold, wind licking your face and threatening to blow you off your feet. Eddie grins and takes the plate from you, grabbing your hand and leading you to the kitchen. He sets the soft yellow platter down beside the bags of takeout and whips around to leer at you like a big cat.

“Hi, bunny,” he whispers. And you’re already flustered.

Eddie smiles because he knows and plants one on you like you’ve never kissed before. Like it hasn’t been his favorite pastime the entire time he’s known you. Despite how stone-faced you told yourself you’d be, you crumple into temptation and whine when he pulls away.

Moments later, you’re both perched on his bed, facing each other while he’s smiling and poking at your knee.

“So…” Eddie says, batting his lashes.

“So?”

“Well, you said you wanted to talk—”

“Oh”—you press a hand to your face and take a deep breath—“I know, I’m just… okay… d’you remember the other day? We were cracking jokes on your bed and messing around in general and…”

“Yeah, I remember.” He inches ever closer, tugging at the sleeve of your coat like a needy cat. Because you don’t know how distracted he had gotten all while thinking about how pretty you looked. How pretty your laugh is and how he doesn’t know where he’d be if he didn’t have you.

“And then I said…”—you sigh—“I mean, I told you I love you, and you didn’t… say anything—”

And as if all of the blood had been drained from his face, he goes ghost-pale in embarrassment. He feels nauseous and panicked.

“Oh my God! Bug! I love you, I love you, I do, I’m—oh my God, I got completely distracted, I’m mortified, I swear, I—”

You feel relief, yet your voice is still small when you ask:

“Distracted? Distracted by what…?”

“Well”—and it makes him shy owning up to his conscience like this—“you were laughin’ so hard and… and then I snorted which made you laugh even harder and I was thinking… ‘bout how beautiful you looked smiling so wide, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. And you said you loved me and I was on cloud nine. You were grabbing me and you looked like you could cry from laughing and I wanted to kiss you and I love you. And I’m sorry I got distracted.”

Your jaw unclenches and you sit there for a second, blinking at him in disbelief and yet complete understanding.

Then you tackle him, pin him to the bed with a yelp. And once he’s done wriggling, he’s scared for his life with how furious you look pressing him down like this.

“Eddie Munson!”

“Don’t be mad at me, please! Because I love you—”

“Shut up,” you say, grinning when he cups your face and swipes his thumb across your cheek.

“I do. I lo—”

“Shh, precious few words, Eddie.”

“Too bad, that sucks, I’m completely in love with you,” he huffs, “Now say it back.”

You grin and you look like you could bite a chunk out of him right about now. And he’s pretty sure he prefers it that way when you say:

“…I love you.”

“Damn right.”

masterlist

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #drabble #fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #established relationship #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #x fem!reader #x gn!reader

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wineauntie · 3 months

Text

CEILINGS — luke hughes x childhood bestfriend!reader

summary: being childhood best friends with luke hughes starts to become a problem when you realise you can’t fathom a future without him.

notes: this took me so long to write but I love it, and maybe I’ll write a part two?? also take a shot every time I make direct reference to the titular song atp 🙏

warnings: borderline nsfw content, MDNI, fem!reader, reader has not-so-great parents, panic attacks, alcohol, swearing, nicknames such as: pretty girl and baby, swearing, questionable moments on both of your behalf, boys being jerks. Use of names Brock and Julia (if they’re your names change it!). The name Brock being slandered, these two are lowkey toxic, cheating.

word count: 8.5k+

On a Friday night at eighteen years old, you should've been out with friends causing chaos; at least that's what all the books and videos on Tiktok had suggested, yet you'd been lying on your bed for hours, just staring at the ceiling ahead of you, your hands interlaced on your stomach. You only shifted slightly when you'd received the text. There was only one person whose notifications hadn't been muted, so as soon as the twinkling sound chimed, your hand darted to your phone.

"Back porch, five minutes, we're going for a drive :)"

You'd let yourself smile as you sat up from the bed and replied to him with a thumbs up.

You had been best friends with Luke Hughes since birth. It's an odd thing to say, you admit, but it was the truth. Your mom and Ellen had been college roommates and when they both fell pregnant, your mom with her first child and Ellen with her third, they like to claim that they knew the two of their children would be best friends.

You saw the Hughes family as often as your family could. Your families would meet up for major holidays, video call on birthdays, and send and receive cards for any occasion. And despite the physical distance often created throughout your childhood, you and the Hughes brothers were close.

So when your parents took permanent residence across the street from the Hughes family a few years ago, you were delighted.

Your parents worked hard to provide for the family, and due to their long hours, you often spent your teen years within the Hughes household. From the moment you moved you and Luke had hit it off right away, it was as if an unspoken bond formed like a secret handshake between two souls destined to intertwine. Luke, with his mischievous grin and infectious enthusiasm, became your steadfast ally in navigating the rollercoaster of youth.

As the years unfolded, so did the subtle shifts in your dynamic. The innocent playdates evolved into late-night conversations, and the familiar comfort between the two of you began to carry a hint of something more profound. Unbeknownst to you, the heart that once beat solely for friendship found a new rhythm in Luke's company, an unspoken sentiment growing like a quiet bloom in the garden of their shared memories.

You brushed off all the signs of anything other than friendship. He was your best friend. You couldn't allow yourself to feel that way about him. At eighteen, the two of you had thrived as friends and everybody knew that where you went Luke would follow and vice versa.

You slipped on your shoes and made your way downstairs. Your parents were working, leaving you with the house to yourself, a fact Luke knew all too well. As you approached your back porch you saw Luke standing outside, a pair of keys dangling in his hand. As you slid open the door, you shot him a quizzical look.

"How on earth did your mom let you take her car?!" You questioned, shutting the door tightly behind you.

"Don't sound so surprised," he rolled his eyes, as the two of you made your way back towards the road where Ellen's car was parked.

"But I am surprised…Luke, you're not a great driver," you deadpan, your arms crossing as he opened the passenger door for you to hop in. You shoot him a look before climbing in carefully.

"You crash into one mailbox, one time and all of a sudden it's 'you're a bad driver, Luke.'" He scoffed to himself as he closed your door before getting in on his side.

"Except it wasn't just one mailbox, it was five and you took them out one after the other," You argued with a raised brow and a knowing smile, your eyes tracking him as he put the key in the ignition.

"Whatever, do you want milkshakes or not?" He asked, tilting his head towards you. Your protests died behind your closed mouth. "Hm…That's what I thought."

"Whatever," You mimicked, turning up the radio as he drove. "I'm on aux though."

"Fine!" Luke scowled,

"Fine!"

—

You and Luke had pulled into the public park and exited the car with your milkshakes in hand as you two made your way towards the benches, ignoring the brewing dark clouds overhead.

These benches were a sacred space to you two. Every debrief, every apology, every important conversation tended to happen on them. You two didn't exactly know when they became sacred but they were now and the two of you cherished the open space.

"How are things with your parents," Luke started as he sipped on his shake, whilst you situated yourself cross-legged on the bench.

"They're…good," you trailed off, giving him a pointed look as you drank. "Still fighting, still avoiding coming home until they have to. I don't really pay attention to it anymore."

"Fuck, y/n," he sighed, shaking his head. "Why don't you just come stay with us for a while? Y'know Mom and Dad love having you over."

"I know," you nod, your head falling to your chest. "I just…it's better if I'm home, Lu."

Luke frowned but made no attempt to push his idea any further upon noticing your discomfort. The quiet settled over the two of you as you both sipped at your drinks. You knew all too well that Luke had more to say about the matter but, you also knew he wouldn't continue once you'd shut him down.

"Besides, they don't argue much when I'm around," you added, causing Luke to roll his eyes at your false nonchalance.

The rain began to fall in delicate droplets, a soft pitter-patter on the leaves above as the once clear sky morphed into a canvas of ominous grey. You and Luke exchanged knowing glances as the first raindrops kissed the ground.

Abandoning your sacred benches, you and Luke started a brisk walk towards the car, milkshakes almost forgotten in the face of the unrelenting downpour. The once serene park transformed into a dance floor for raindrops, and you could feel the wetness creeping into your shoes.

The droplets turned into a gentle drizzle, gradually evolving into a torrential downpour. You paused in your tracks, letting the rain engulf you as it soaked you to your skin. Your head raised towards the sky with a small, childish grin, feeling your hair stick to your face and neck.

"Y/N, c'mon," Luke called out as he faltered, just steps ahead of you. He found himself doubling back and latching his on yours as he urged you to move. You lowered your head back to normality and snapped back into reality as you resumed running towards the car.

The moment you reached the vehicle, you swung open the door and hopped inside, the interior providing solace from the relentless rain. Droplets clung to your clothes, and as you settled into the driver's seat, Luke glanced over, a mix of worry and amusement in his eyes.

"Looks like we picked the wrong day for milkshakes," he remarked with a half-smile, wiping rainwater from his face.

You chuckled with a hint of resignation in your voice. "Typical us, right? Managing to find ourselves out in the middle of a storm despite the perfect weather earlier." Luke huffed out a laugh, his hands smoothing back his hair. You moved in your seat wincing as the dampness sloshed in your shoes. "Urgh, My shoes are full of water!" Your face screwed up as you whined.

The car's interior provided a cocoon of warmth, starkly contrasting the cold rain outside. Luke fumbled for the keys, and the engine roared to life, drowning out the sounds of the raindrops on the roof. Silence enveloped you both, the rhythmic beating of rain against the car forming a backdrop to the unspoken words hanging in the air.

As the car pulled away from the park, you stole a glance at Luke. His profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights, revealed the familiar contours of a friend who had weathered many storms with you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were carefully pursed. The question about your parents lingered, unsaid but not forgotten.

"You know, Y/N," Luke finally spoke, taking a deep breath and breaking the silence. He kept his eyes on the road. "I know I said it before but, our house is always open to you and maybe you don't want to and that's fine. But I don't want you to be lonely in that house. Alone is fine, lonely…not so much."

Your gaze met the side of his face, gratitude and a touch of sadness reflecting in your eyes. "I know that, Lu. More than you know." Your quiet voice replied, you moved your pinky towards his and looped it through. "I promise I'll come over if it gets bad."

Luke nodded and let his pinky squeeze yours momentarily before you let go as a pained understanding remained etched on his features. The car continued its journey through the rain-soaked streets, the cityscape blurred by water-streaked windows. Unspoken sentiments lingered, intertwined with the melody of raindrops and the hum of the engine.

As you parked the car by your home, the rain showed no sign of relenting. Your eyes wandered out of the car window towards the house when you spotted both of your parent's respective cars in the driveway. At the sight, you found yourself tensing, Luke's eyes examining your stiffened figure.

You exhaled shakily, trying to mentally prepare for the arguing as you and Luke exchanged a silent acknowledgement, a shared understanding that some storms couldn't be avoided. With a sigh, you braced yourself for the inevitable.

"I'll walk you to the back porch," Luke decided, his eyes unmoving from your crestfallen face. Your eyes glanced towards him and with a silent nod, the two of you exited the car and into the rain.

Luke grabbed your arm as you both ran towards the back of the house, trying your best to avoid slipping. As you rounded the house, the boy pulled you beneath the shelter of the porch, his hands around your waist as he moved you towards the back door.

"It's always like this!"

"Why do you always make a big deal out of nothing!"

Your tense body froze in your steps as Luke crashed into your back. The loud and harsh arguing voices of your parents faded away as you shook nervously. The world around you faded, and even Luke disappeared from your view, the only thing you were able to process was the rising swell of panic.

Luke sensed the sudden shift in the atmosphere as your body tensed, your breaths becoming shallow. Panic, like an uninvited guest, seized your senses, and the echoes of your parents' heated voices blended with the drumming rain, forming a dissonant symphony in your ears.

He gently steered you towards the car, concern etched across his face. The raindrops blurred with your welling tears as you fumbled to find solace in the familiar cocoon of the car. Luke slid into the driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel with a reassuring firmness.

The confined space intensified the swirling chaos within you, the reality of your parents' constant battles tearing through the fragile facade you maintained. The world outside blurred, and Luke's voice reached you like a distant echo.

"Hey, look at me," he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours. "Deep breaths, Y/N, okay?"

His words appeared as a lifeline, a desperate attempt to anchor you amidst the storm raging within. You nodded, albeit shakily, and followed his guidance, inhaling the air that hung heavy with the scent of rain and exhaling the suffocating grip of anxiety.

As Luke continued to coach you through each breath, his voice a steady rhythm in the chaos, he sensed the need for a stronger anchor. Tentatively, he reached out, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a silent promise of support. The warmth of his touch cut through the icy tendrils of panic, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

The rain painted a rhythmic tableau on the car roof, a lullaby attempting to soothe your frayed nerves. Luke's presence, a constant in the turbulence, became a lifeline, a connection to something stable amid the chaos.

But even the most steadfast anchors can falter in the face of relentless storms. Your panic intensified, a tempest of emotions threatening to engulf you. Luke, watching with his own panic brewing. He'd never seen you in this state. Sensing the urgency, he wracked his brain for any idea or thought to try to calm you down. He ran a stressed hand through his curls before he turned towards you.

"Please, don't hate me," He begged with a mumble as he leaned closer to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling lips.

The world paused.

In that stolen moment, the rain outside seemed to quieten completely. The unexpected touch of his lips against yours sent a shockwave through the tempest within you. His hand lifted to cup your cheek whilst your heart raced, just this time not in panic. Time seemed to stand still as the kiss unfolded, a moment suspended between the echoes of arguments and the rhythm of raindrops. Luke's kiss, an uncharted territory in your shared history, left a lingering warmth amidst the storm.

When he pulled away, uncertainty clouded both your gazes. The rain continued its symphony on the car roof, a backdrop to the unspoken revelation that had just transpired. The world outside the car, soaked and chaotic, mirrored the complex emotions swirling within.

"Luke…," your voice faltered, words caught in the whirlwind of conflicting feelings.

"Y/N, I…," he began, his expression a mix of regret and longing.

The revelation hung between you like a suspended note in the silence, a chord struck amid chaos. The car, once a sanctuary, now felt like an arena where unspoken truths echoed louder than the rain outside.

"I didn't know what to do," Luke finally spoke, breaking the tension. His gaze held an intensity, a vulnerability laid bare in the confined space. "I'm sorry…But seeing you like this, I couldn't stand by and watch you suffer."

His words resonated with the implicit sentiments that had lingered between you, the undercurrents of something more profound than friendship.

"You kissed me," you whispered, the realization settling in.

"I did," Luke admitted, his eyes blinking carefully as he searched yours for any sign of lingering panic.

You took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken feelings lifting, replaced by a newfound clarity.

"Luke, I don't…I'm just," you finally stammered, you're head was swimming into the depths of the unknown. You're fingers brushed against your lips as the moment replayed through your head. It had felt like a movie as if one of the countless romcoms you'd watched on repeat decided to possess your life.

"Yeah, no, forget it, you don't have to say anything…I'll walk you to the porch again," Luke rushed as he offered, his hand finding yours as a silent reassurance. Disappointment flooded your stomach as your eyebrows creased. The rain had transformed from a tumultuous force to a gentle drizzle, once more, as you stepped out of the car.

As you approached the back porch, Luke's once mischievous grin, and infectious enthusiasm, now carried the weight of what had just happened.

The porch creaked beneath the two of you, the voices from inside your house now dimmed. You silently moved towards the back door as you pushed open the door. You turned to face your best friend, where Luke's eyes met yours. You felt your gut twist as your gaze lingered on him, your eyes pleading for anything to be said.

"Thank you," you muttered, your eyes welling up as you stepped inside, leaving the rain-soaked porch and Luke behind.

You and Luke hadn't spoken of the kiss since that moment. In fact, it took three weeks for the two of you to stop avoiding each other and to fall back into step with your usual banter, yet there was an extra weight on the conversation, straining it for the both of you.

Luke Hughes had known you for approximately eighteen years, four months, and three days…and for approximately fourteen years, five months and two days, he knew he'd been in love with you.

The kiss you'd shared in the car two months ago had sparked every nerve in his body, and he'd found himself swept up by the tide and deposited on the remote island of not knowing what the hell to do. Especially since you'd never said anything else about the kiss after it's happened. The two of you had just moved on as if nothing had happened, and Luke hated it…even more so when you'd found yourself in a relationship of sorts with a boy on the football team.

The football team!

And to make matters worse, his name was Brock!

Brock! As if his parents had sneezed whilst writing out his birth certificate.

Luke had to watch with pain as you'd sit with his arm around you, laugh with, flirt with, and kiss him instead of doing all those things with Luke.

So, when you'd called him crying, asking if he could come get you from a house party, he was already out the door and in the driver's seat of his mom's car.

You were sitting on the curb of the pavement, your hands cradling your chin as you cried. Your phone has died as soon as you'd texted Luke your location. A cold breeze swept over your bare legs and arms, despite the fact they were huddled to your chest.

Your teary eyes watched as the familiar car pulled up in front of you. You wanted to sob in relief as Luke hopped out and practically ran towards you. You allowed him to wrap you in a hug, the warm embrace causing you to cry harder.

"Jesus Christ, y/n/n," Luke cursed as he pulled away. "Where's your coat? It's freezing out here!" He pulled away and yanked off his jacket before carefully laying it over your shoulders. "What happened?"

"Can we please go?" Your broken voice destroyed all of Luke's frustration. He nodded stiffly and helped you stand before he escorted you into the passenger seat, helping buckle you up as you sunk into the familiar comfort of the car. He shut your door gently and crossed back over into the driver's side.

"Y/N, if someone did something–" Luke started angrily as he shut his door firmly, his hands turning the key in the ignition.

"Brock's been cheating on me," you cut him off, your tears still falling. Luke looked towards you in shock, his mouth slightly agape.

"That bastard," Luke swore, unbuckling his seat belt as he began to move as if to storm down the street to the house party.

"Please, can you just bring me home?" You sniffled tearfully, "I just want to go…" Luke paused, nodded stiffly and restarted the car once more.

The car rolled smoothly through the quiet streets as you sat in a cocoon of Luke's jacket, warming up from the chilly night air. The silence between you spoke volumes, echoing the unspoken feelings and unresolved tension

Your head was splayed against your forehead as you leaned against the car door. Your head was a mess, the night taking its horrible toll. The engine hummed softly, a backdrop to the heavy air thick inside the car.

It didn't take long for Luke to finally turn to you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration which immediately softened upon seeing your tear-streaked face. "Y/N, don't cry. You deserve better and you know it." His eyebrows furrowed as you looked away.

"I know, Lu, but it's not that simple." You sighed, wiping away lingering tears.

"Yes, it is." His jaw clenched, and he spoke with an intensity that betrayed his emotions. "You deserve someone who treats you right, not someone who leaves you on the side of the road crying."

The truth hung in the air, but you hesitated to acknowledge it fully. "Luke, can we just…talk normally?" You begged.

"Yeah, of course, y/n/n." His voice quieted, as he nodded. His fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel.

"Apparently…He's been cheating on me since the start of our relationship," you whispered, daring to glance towards Luke, whose fists tightened on the wheel. "I only found out because I wouldn't sleep with him tonight…he said something along the lines of; "This is why I find it elsewhere"…" You let out a dry laugh, your tears rolling down your cheeks.

"He said he'd been sleeping with girls every time I wouldn't 'put out'." Your teeth sunk into your lip as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to tip over.

"I've never…" you paused, wondering if this conversation would cross the line from a causal friendship conversation into TMI. "I just wanted to be sure that I really liked him before I…" You trailed off, waving your hand as you looked towards the window again. "But that moment never came, I never felt like I wanted to…hell, I've only known him a month!"

Luke was quiet as he indicated down the street both you and he lived on. His jaw was clenched in fury, his mouth pursed to try to keep the frustrations from pouring out.

"I'm going to kill him," Luke finally uttered as calmly as possible. "He's a dick, y/n/n…"

"Yeah…" you mumbled, your eyes moving towards Luke's shadowed figure. "I won't stop you, he is a dick…I just thought that he really liked me.'

Even if you didn't wholly like him.

Your throat tightened at the afterthought while Luke pulled up outside his house. You'd looked away shamefully at your thought because, truth be told, you liked the idea that Brock could like you. You just thought that with time, you could like him too. That your heart could be swayed away from loving your best friend. Your face screwed up at the idea as you let out a shaky exhale.

Your eyes darted across the street to where your empty house was, sadness overwhelming you as you peered out. Things with your parents had gotten worse lately, and now they wouldn't speak to each other, and you got caught in the silent crossfire.

"Come on," Luke swung your door open. You were so caught up in your misery that you hadn't even realised he'd left the car. "You can stay the night in mine… Mom and Dad are gone to visit friends out of state."

You didn't bother to argue. You knew at this stage it would be pointless. You also knew that you didn't want to return home to the weight of your house's silence. You walked side by side with Luke up the driveway, your hands curled around his jacket over your shoulders, ensuring that it wouldn't slip.

The front door creaked open, and you both stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The familiar scent of your home enveloped you, offering a strange comfort amidst the chaos of emotions. You stood awkwardly, something you've never done inside the house. Luke examined your face before he quietly led you to his room, a familiar space that held the echoes of so many memories. The dim glow of his bedside lamp cast shadows on the walls as he led you to sit on the bed.

"I'll let you change into something more comfortable," Luke offered, gesturing towards a drawer with spare clothes. You nodded in appreciation, feeling a wave of exhaustion and vulnerability.

Luke was a giver. You'd known this even when you were little. He would give out kindness and laughter so easily, so freely…at least to you he would. You wanted to cry again at how caring he was being in this moment. You'd felt so selfish calling him earlier to come and get you but he'd been the only one to jump into your mind when you'd stumbled out of the house.

"These will probably fit," he stated, holding out a t-shirt and sweatpants toward you. You looked up at him, his soft brown, pleading eyes. You gulped as you stood once more and moved to the bathroom to change.

As you changed, the reality of the night's events sank in. The weight of betrayal, the unravelling of a relationship, and the unexpected solace found in Luke's presence all converged within you. When you emerged from the bathroom in Luke's oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, he was sitting against the headboard of his bed, a concerned expression etched on his face.

He patted the space beside him, and you sank onto the bed, the mattress providing a soft embrace. You couldn't even begin to count the number of times the two of you had fallen asleep on this bed together after watching movies or talking all night, so sitting with Luke was no unusual feat. The silence hung between you, laden with unspoken words and shared understanding. His eyes traced the contours of your face, his concern deepening.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for tonight. You didn't deserve that," Luke spoke softly, his sincerity resonating in the hushed room.

"Thanks, Lu," you whispered, your voice wavering. "I just wished he didn't affect me like this…we were only casual. He said he didn't like to label things."

He shifted closer, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders, offering a silent reassurance. The warmth of his presence acted as a balm, soothing the raw edges of your emotions. A small, grateful smile played on your lips as you leaned into his comforting embrace.

"You know, I've always hated that guy," Luke suddenly confessed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "But seeing you like this just makes me want to punch him even more."

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a soft laugh escaped your lips.

Oh, that laugh…Luke thought he'd never hear a sound more beautiful than that laugh. His eyebrows slightly scrunched together as he grinned lazily at you.

"I mean, who names their kid Brock? It's like setting him up for a lifetime of being a jerk."

You chuckled, the weight of the evening momentarily lifted by Luke's playful banter as you looked up at him. He was still talking animatedly, his rage settling so as not to take his anger for Brock out on you in any way. You watched with gentle eyes as he spoke, your bottom lip between your teeth as your thoughts drifted.

"What's wrong?!" Luke suddenly questioned, his eyes wide as if he'd somehow upset you.

"I thought you mightn't come get me…" you admitted carefully.

"I'll always come for you, you know that, right?" Luke stated seriously, his breath tickling your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat as you nodded. "I know, Luke… I just thought that…" you found yourself guiltily trailing off.

The room fell into silence, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing and the distant hum of the night outside. Your eyes met Luke's, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you. It was as if the weight of unacknowledged feelings lingered in the air. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to happen.

"Luke," you started, your voice soft, "we haven't been the same since that kiss…I've noticed it, and I know you've noticed it. I was scared you wouldn't come because it would be too awkward."

Luke's eyes widened slightly, and you could see a mixture of surprise and anticipation in them. The air in Luke's room thickened with tension, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

"I've noticed it," Luke shamefully admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the delicate balance that had settled between you.

"It meant something to you, didn't it?" you ventured, your gaze searching his eyes for confirmation. "That kiss?"

Luke hesitated, the vulnerability in his eyes mirroring your own. "Yeah, it did," he finally answered, his voice laced with honesty.

The admission hung in the air, and a charged energy filled the room. Time seemed to slow down as the unspoken tension between you finally surfaced. Luke's hand found yours, fingers intertwining, and a warmth spread through both of you.

"I don't know why I chose that moment, y/n/n, I mean, I shouldn't have," Luke confessed, his eyes never leaving yours. "But that kiss… it was everything."

Your heart raced as you let out a small gasp. You felt as if the world was playing a cruel joke. This couldn't be real…this wasn't allowed to be real. You'd been suppressing your feelings for so long, all for what? For him to kiss you and admit that it meant something- meant everything? This was a sick and cruel game sent from the universe, and you no longer wanted to play it.

"Everything?" You repeated nervously, your eyes falling carefully to his chest.

"Everything," Luke's velvety voice confirmed as you raised your fingers to trail along his jawline. He sucked in a shallow breath, as you pushed yourself up closer to him, your nose almost touching his.

Before he could speak again, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. It felt like a culmination of years of unspoken emotions, a release of feelings that had been bottled up for far too long. Your thumb stroked his cheekbones as you leaned further into the kiss.

The kiss unfolded like a carefully choreographed ballet. Your fingers creeping towards the curls at the nape of his neck, whilst his hands found solace in the small of your back. It was a dance of exploration, a nuanced ballet of tactile discovery that resonated with the silent poetry of longing and fulfilment.

Your breaths synchronized, creating a rhythm that echoed the heartbeat of your connection. He tasted like a blend of strawberries and nostalgia, while you savoured the warmth of his embrace, a comforting refuge from the chaos of the world.

Your kiss grew more desperate as his fingers gripped your waist, your fingers lightly tugging his hair. In a swift move, Luke had pulled you on top of him, so that you straddled his lower body, your lips unmoving from his. You felt the vibration of his groan rumble through you as you shifted on his lap, pushing to get as close to him as possible.

You felt Luke's hands pull you towards him, provoking you to let a small gasp slip as you rolled your hips against him. Another groan ripped through Luke as he pulled away. He shifted, attempting to hide what was happening, but he couldn't fool you, you'd felt him grow harder against your thigh. His forehead leaned towards yours as you both caught your breath. Your hand lingered in his hair, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Y/N…we shouldn't do this, not tonight," Luke spoke, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he nudged your nose with his.

"I want you, Lu," you murmured with shut eyes. "I want it to be with you."

"Open your eyes, pretty girl," Luke softly ordered, to which you immediately obliged, a fluttering sensation erupting in your stomach. "I need you to tell me that you are okay right now. That you want this one hundred percent, I won't go any further until you are."

"Luke, I trust you more than you could ever know," you state, your voice steady and clear. "I want this to happen with you."

Luke felt himself fill with pride at her words as he nodded. He leaned forward to capture your lips once more. You melted into the embrace whilst his fingers moved under his T-shirt on your body and traced circles along your warm skin. You careened into his touch as he moved away from your mouth and let his lips kiss down your neck.

"I'm going to take this off now, okay?" He murmured against your ear as he tugged on your T-shirt. You nodded but felt him pull back, his fingers tapping under your chin so you'd look at him. "Words are important here, y/n/n… I want to make sure you're comfortable at every step."

"You can take it off," you say breathily, as his fingers slid along the hem.

"Good," Luke hummed and cautiously lifted the shirt over your head. He let out a small breath of air upon revealing your bare torso. You'd taken off your bra when you'd gotten changed earlier, and now you were more than thankful for that. "Fuck, pretty girl," he cursed with a small smile which caused you to bashfully bow your head.

Luke moved your chin once more, so you could lock eyes with him, his golden brown searching your gaze for any hesitance. "If at any stage you want to stop, you say it, y/n," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair out of your face. "You won't hurt my feelings, and I won't be mad. I mean it…you say stop, and everything stops, no matter what."

You flushed at his punctuated words, your chin bobbing before you remembered what he'd said previously.

"Alright," you agreed whilst your hands curled around his shoulders. "I promise."

With a satisfied nod, Luke's hands were back on your waist as he manoeuvred you, so your back hit the soft mattress, with him hovering over you. Your fingers clutched at the collar of his jumper as you pulled him down towards you, frantically moving your lips to his. Your head fell back against the pillow as Luke resumed his kisses down your neck. Your fingers tugged through the soft curls on the back of his head as you writhed beneath his touch.

"Luke," you gasped out, your lip trembling in desire as he moved towards your chest, his fingers sliding beneath the waistband of the sweatpants you wore.

"You are driving me crazy," he groaned out, his eyes flickering up towards you. You looked down at him with half-lidded eyes as he pressed delicate kisses down your sternum and stomach, stopping just above your pants. "Please, can I take these off, pretty girl?" His voice sounded desperate as if you were depriving him of the only oxygen left on the planet.

"Yes…please," you stammered whilst he chuckled lowly and placed his lips momentarily on your hip before he pulled the sweatpants down, his eyes unmoving from yours. You felt a series of goosebumps spread across your body as he gently removed the article of clothing from your legs and flung the pants across the room.

"Luke," you whined as his fingers crept up your thigh almost teasingly. "Need more…need you, please!"

You felt the soft whisper of breath against your leg as Luke moved to sit up on his knees and yanked his jumper and T-shirt off in one fell swoop. Your jaw fell open at the sight, your fingers reaching out to brush his bare skin. You'd seen him in this state before, multiple times in fact, but this time was different, it was as if the light had shifted, no longer basking him in the shadows but allowing the light to shine solely on him.

"Oh, y/n/n," he sighed with a lazy grin as he looked down at your almost naked form. You squirmed beneath his wandering gaze, your hands moving to cover yourself. He tutted and took both of your hands in his and placed them on his shoulders, his eyes continuing to drink you in.

With the way he was looking at you, you would've thought someone had shown him the moon for the first time, pointing out its effervescent glow and the white, comforting light that washed over the world's darkness dousing it with hope.

You watched with bated breath as he pressed kisses down one of your arms right down to your shoulder, where he nestled his head in the base of your neck.

"I don't know how I lasted this long without you like this." He murmured against your hot skin, his fingers traipsing up your leg to hold your knee to his side. Your breath caught in your throat at the movement, your blown pupils following him at every move he made. "I'm going to ask one last time, pretty girl, are you sure about this?"

You gently lifted Luke's head so that you were face to face with him, your breaths mixing as he waited for your reply.

"Surer than I've ever been about anything," you say definitively, watching as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Luke grinned as he pressed himself against you, the only thing truly separating them being the scraps of fabric on their lower halves.

The room was charged with anticipation as Luke's lips found yours once more, the shared understanding and unspoken emotions weaving a delicate tapestry between you. At that moment, as your bodies intertwined, you both surrendered to the magnetic pull that had lingered since that unforgettable kiss in the car.

You sunk into the warmth of Luke's embrace offered solace amidst the chaos of emotions, creating a sanctuary where unspoken feelings found their voice and where your bodies intertwined and breaths synchronized, a newfound understanding emerging.

The unspoken tension that had lingered for months finally surfaced, and with heartfelt admissions, the connection deepened. The night became a canvas painted with shared vulnerability and the beauty of acknowledging long-suppressed desires.

You glanced at the clock on Luke's bedside table as it blinked the red, vibrant numbers of three forty-three am. Your bare body lay buried under the weight of the bed sheets and Luke's forearm around your stomach. The ache had settled between your legs, leaving your nakedness and his, as well as the mottled purple at the base of your neck as the only evidence of your night together. His body was pressed into your back, the steady thrumming of his heart lulling you. His other arm was stretched out, lying beneath your head as you fiddled with his fingers.

This was quite possibly the loveliest thing you'd experienced.

It was the perfect comfort from the chaos of your life. He was the perfect comfort. You shifted carefully, turning over as Luke let out a soft groan, pulling your body closer to his. Your lips tugged upwards as his arms engulfed you as if you were his favourite childhood teddy bear. You leaned your head to his chest, relishing the familiar warmth that it offered.

He was so cute, you'd thought, staying as still as possible as his head had moved to lay just above yours. Even in his sleep, Luke seemed to want to protect and cradle you from any and all harm. You wanted to scream from the rooftops just how much this boy meant to you, just how much you cherished him, but if that meant disturbing the serenity that has blossomed in the aftermath, you would be willing to wait.

You curled into him, your legs intertwining with his as your breaths steadied, and you allowed the calmness of sleep to wash over you.

–

You'd felt the bed shift beneath your exhausted body as the boy beside you stretched out his limbs with a silent yawn. The soft glow of morning seeped through the curtains, casting a warm hue on the tangled sheets and two intertwined bodies. Your eyes fluttered open, hazel orbs meeting yours, as his usual, familiar smile graced his lips. Luke's sleepy eyes met yours, a lazy smile gracing his lips. The remnants of the night's passion lingered in the air, a shared secret between you two.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice a low, soothing rumble that echoed the tranquillity of the moment. You couldn't help but return the smile, fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest.

"Morning," you whispered back, savouring the quiet intimacy of the dawn. The world outside seemed distant, irrelevant compared to the cocoon you'd created in that bed. Luke's fingertips danced lightly along your back, sending shivers down your spine.

Neither of you rushed to break the spell. Instead, you let the morning unfold in a slow ballad of shared glances and gentle touches. The room held a hushed reverence as if it knew that something sacred had transpired under its roof. You smiled and stole a glance at the clock again, realizing that the world beyond the four walls of the room was stirring awake. The hushed whispers of the morning and its distant sounds seeped in, reminding you that life, with all its complexities, awaited just outside the window.

Eventually, the need for words emerged. Luke's fingers found their way into your hair, his touch a silent reassurance. "Last night…" he began, his gaze searching yours for understanding. You nodded, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had formed.

"Was incredible," you confessed, your voice a mere whisper. Luke's eyes sparkled, reflecting the mutual sentiment. There was a certain vulnerability in the air, a fragility that made the connection between you two feel both precious and precarious.

"But how are you feeling?" Luke asked as he leaned in pressing a lingering kiss beside your temple. You felt electrified at the action, a surge of emotions flooded through you—gratitude, contentment, and a twinge of excitement for what lay ahead.

"Luke, I'm fine…" you grinned, your eyebrows scrunched as you looked up at him. "More than fine…in need of a shower, but other than that, great." He let out a light laugh, his arm tightening around your shoulder as you made no attempt to move.

The weight of the morning sun intensified, casting a spotlight on the vulnerability of your exposed selves. The soft glow highlighted the curves and edges, all of the imperfections that made your shared space even more beautiful. You marvelled at how the sunlight painted Luke's features, turning him into a masterpiece of warmth and affection.

As the day beckoned, you realized the outside world would soon encroach upon your found haven. Responsibilities, obligations, and the relentless march of time would demand attention. But for now, in the soft embrace of the morning, you were suspended in a delicate equilibrium.

Luke pressed another tender kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of continuity in a world that thrived on change. You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation of his lips against your skin. The world outside faded away, leaving only the rhythmic beating of your heart and the shared breaths that anchored you to the present.

And then it was over.

The morning bliss passed by far too quickly for your liking and before you knew it, you were dressed in Luke's clothes and heading back towards your house. Luke stayed at your side, his arm around your shoulders as he escorted you across the road. You relished his lingering touches and his softened eyes as the two of you approached the empty house.

"So…" you spoke, standing in the open doorway, looking up towards the boy. Your hands fiddled beneath the cuffs of his oversized jumper that you adorned.

"I like you, y/n," he blurted out as he scratched his head nervously. "I like you a lot, and if you don't feel the same, that's fine. But I'd like to know–"

You stepped out of your house and pulled Luke down with a small smile. Without another word, you crashed his lips to yours, his hands clasping your waist as the two of you moulded together. His hands locked around your waist, holding you as close as possible, your hands twirling around his curls– the curls you loved.

And as you reluctantly parted from him, a trail of electricity lingered, your fingers lifting to your lips giddily. His head remained bowed down towards you, his brown eyes, the eyes you cherished, scanning yours with a lazy smile.

"I like you too,"

- The two of you were keeping your blooming relationship on the lowkey. It wasn't that you were ashamed of it, or that you two weren't ready for that step but because you didn't think you could face the reactions of your families.

The Hughes would be delighted, of course. Ellen always teased that the two of you would end up together. The only people who wouldn't be as delighted would be your parents. Hell, you weren't sure if they'd be mad because you had a boyfriend or because their own love was falling apart.

And so, you and Luke had kept it between the two of you…at least around your respective families.

And it honestly hadn't been too difficult to do so.

You two continued to act as you had when you were only friends… just with a few more lingering touches and devouring kisses. You were certain a few of your friends had picked up on the difference but if they had, they didn't say anything and you were determined to stay in that state.

And a week later, you and Luke were in his mom's car again. Ellen and Jim had flown up to Vancouver to visit Quinn and watch him play, leaving Luke with an empty house, one in which you had been staying over in almost every night, tucked into the comfort of his arms.

Luke's hand was placed on your thigh as he drove, his thumb smoothing figures of eight over the expanse. You hummed along to the song echoing over the radio, your fingers scrolling through messages upon messages from your parents and friends. Luke squeezed your leg slightly as the car pulled up towards a remote house, currently filled to the brim with high school seniors.

It was one of the final parties of the year, a farewell hurrah for your last year of high school.

"You okay, pretty girl?" Luke asked, his head tilted towards you as he smoothed his hand up and down your thigh.

"Mhm…" you hummed with a smile across your face. "Just thinking."

"That's never good," Luke joked, causing you to lean forward and hit his chest in false rage.

"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes playfully, unbuckling your seat belt but as you went to grab the door, Luke hissed in offence and practically sprinted around the car to pull open your door for you. You snickered as you jumped out of the car. Luke slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest as the two of you walked towards the party.

The music filtered out into the night air as Luke and you walked straight into the house, instantly becoming engulfed by the smell of alcohol and sweat as people bristled around the home. Your hand laced with Luke's as the two of you manoeuvred through the crowd. The two of you spilt into the kitchen, with Luke grabbing you a drink and passing it back to you. He had agreed to drive the two of you home, meaning you were able to have a few drinks.

For the majority of the night, the two of them had remained in each other's grasp as you talked to friends and danced to the outrageously loud music. You'd been ripping away the drinks, a soft buzz filling your veins just enough to heighten your giddiness without distorting your reality.

Many people shot you and Luke questioning looks when he held you close to his chest or when he pressed lingering kisses along your neck and cheek. The two of you were wrapped up in your own little bubble, enjoying the last bit of freedom before the end-of-year exams.

"Gotta go to the bathroom," you yelled over the music as you broke away from Luke's hold.

"Want me to come with you?" He replied, his fingers traipsing down your arms.

"I'm alright," you grinned, kissing his neck gently before walking towards where you believed the bathroom was. You passed through the kitchen before you felt yourself being pulled back.

You turned around only to turn ashen as Brock's tight grip on your wrist pulled you closer to his body. You stiffened immediately, his face hovering just in front of yours as you tried to carefully pull away.

"Let go, Brock," you ordered as calmly as possible. His narrowed eyes scanned your face, his grip unwavering.

"You're screwing Hughes?!" He spat, the faint waft of beer on his breath flooded your senses. "You wouldn't let me fuck you but you're screwing him?"

"We're broken up…you cheated on me," your voice was trembling but your straight face remained as such. "Let me go."

"Bet you were screwing him when we were together too," he sneered, yanking you again. He was so close now that his nose brushed yours as you tried to pull away. "Bet you screwed everyone but me, but I'm not complaining…you have all kinds of diseases, don't you?"

You jerked away from Brock with teary eyes, your bruising wrist now free of his grip. Your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't even begin to say anything before you ran towards the bathroom, cutting past the complaining queue and locking the door.

Tears fell freely as your shaky hands rushed to brush away your tears. You couldn't focus on anything else at the moment, bar your growing want to be in Luke's arms and within the comfort of his gaze. You took a few shaky breaths in before you rushed out of the bathroom, ignoring the dirty looks and comments people in the queue threw at you.

As you navigated your way towards the living room, you kept your head down, your tear-stained cheeks flushed as you pushed passed people so determined to make it to Luke. You knew he'd soothe you, he'd hold you close and patch up your cracked soul.

"Y/N!" A girl, you recognised to be Julia, who was in your homeroom popped in front of your vision blocking your view of the living room. You stumbled back and met her panicked gaze as a fake smile plastered across her face. You knew it was fake, hell you were practically the queen of fake smiles.

"Oh…hi," you mustered, "if you'll excuse me…" As you tried to move around her, only to find your way blocked again.

"You really don't want to go in there," she almost begged. You could hear the pity in her voice, as her hands tried to prevent you from entering the room. You pushed her away in confusion, as she winced and moved from the entry of the living room.

"What the hell is your problem-"

Your words died in your throat as your eyes landed on the scene ahead of you.

Luke Hughes, your best friend, your safe haven, the boy you liked(...loved!), was tongue-deep in another girl's throat as people whistled and watched them around the living room.

His hands were on her cheeks as they often were on yours. His eyes shut as the girl careened at his touch. You felt your heart promptly drop to your stomach as you remained frozen in your place, your body vibrating in hurt.

He didn't even look up once.

It all crumbled down as you felt your stomach churn and you couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the betrayal. You clutched a hand to your throat as you burst through the crowd stumbling out of the house, dry-retching as you made it outside. Julia followed you outside, her hand caressing your back as you heaved.

Sobs tore through your body at the chaos that the night had unfolded. It was as if none of it was real. His words, his loving touches, his kisses, his embrace all of it was fake!

You'd trusted him and it was like the version of him you knew didn't exist!

You cried as Julia murmured to you, her hand running over your hair as she sat you down on the curbside outside of the house. You welcomed her comfort and despite not knowing her all that well, you found yourself spilling every last thought to her.

You sobbed as you confessed your love for him, how he was your first, how he said he liked you, how you'd grown up with him, how this would kill the only solace you had in life. And she listened. She listened and held you, as the party continued inside.

It was over— your perfect, dream of a romcom-esque love had come to an end, and you never even saw it coming.

#wineauntie #luke hughes x reader #hughes brothers x y/n #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes #x reader #nhl x reader #nhl

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ultimate-chickennougat · 2 months

Text

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 2)

Vol 1 (not required) Vol 3 Vol 4 Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader;

Waking up with Kento Nanami...

Word Count: 1.2k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, Nanami's shirtless (nondescriptive)

A/n: I hope to make a 3rd volume soon... this was so fun to write!

There was something so peaceful about the morning. Since marriage, life was full of excitement and pleasures big and small. Former causes of stress had been lifted off your shoulders, all by the love of your life, your dear husband Nanami - something that you would always be grateful for.

To say that the provided comfort was reciprocated, was certainly believed by Nanami. His disposition on work remained unchanged since you first met, and you had remained his most precious thought, making every troublesome day worth it and fade away.

Instead, it was only time that still lingered, the tick of a clock and rise and fall of the sun being your constant reminders. In the end, life is short, something that both you and Nanami understood and dreaded.

That was the reason for sleeping in that morning, in Nanami’s eyes. He knew you were both sore and tired from the day before, and it was only right that the two of you got some much needed time together, as newlyweds.

Sunlight had started to pour into the room through the large windows, decorating the dressers and chairs away from the bed. It was a sight to behold, the precious space that the two of you decorated together, and of course the face of you, sleeping softly in his arms.

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought that crossed his mind, closing his eyes. Though he could spend hours listing everything he loved about you, there was one that was particularly apparent at that moment.

Your heat.

The warm radiating heat of your body, covered in blankets after long hours of sleeping. It was such a wonderful contrast to the coolness from the night before, after you took a quick shower and hopped into bed, clean as you preferred. Feeling cold as usual, you had snuggled in close to his arms as he spooned you, hand resting on your stomach as you drifted off to sleep.

Now, you were the warm one, and Nanami wouldn’t have it any other way. It was addictive, having your heated squishy form pressed against him when he woke up. In fact, he woke up early every day, just to enjoy that without missing work.

To get started on the day's tasks, you had to wake up early as well. Nanami left for work promptly at 8:30 AM each morning, and his breakfast and lunch had to be prepared, as well as his outfit and things. Now, this didn’t take nearly as much time as was provided by waking up at 5:30, and the intention of course was so he could sleep in, but that didn’t happen, and in fact it never did.

Something about it being important for Nanami to wake his wife up, with kisses of course, was still floating around in his brain after two months of sleeping in the same bed. He got a good 7 hours of sleep anyway, and dreaming of you still wasn’t as good as the real thing.

Moving even closer to you, he started his little routine. His arms wrapped around your torso, as he gripped the pink nightgown you had on. Placing his head near your shoulder, he carefully kissed your ear, hearing small murmurs from you.

“Good morning, my cute little wife,” he smiled, kissing your jaw next as you stirred. His breathing got heavier as he felt your hands move to his. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Y/n?” his head moved down to kiss your shoulder, and then your nose as you held onto his wrist.

You were so perfect, laying with him on your side. Surely you were tired, waking up early every morning when you could sleep in. That was why he had to do it, to wake you up himself and make it as enjoyable as possible. To have his voice be the first thing you hear every day, and to get to inform you of his love, even before you got to work. Of course he enjoyed this as well, another sight that only he has ever seen.

“Kento…” you murmured, finally awake. This time he pulled you closer to him, lazily throwing his leg over yours and turning your face to make eye contact. “Yes dear?” he whispered back, kissing your forehead. “I love you…” you mumbled incoherently, still half asleep, as you started kicking the blankets off, overheating.

He kissed the top of your head, next. “You’re so warm…” he replied, squeezing you tighter. “I love it,” he couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you squirmed, his words making you feel butterflies. “It’s too early in the morning for that…” you whined, trying to turn away from him, but he stopped you with another kiss. This time, to your lips.

It was sweet and short, only a few moments passing before he pulled away. “You’re right, my apologies,” he gave you another kiss on the nose. “I’ll save the compliments for later.” You blushed, silently enjoying his groggy voice. It was deep and rough, his tiredness was evident with every word - and you loved the sound.

“Darling, I should get up now.” You stated, starting to untangle yourself from his grip, but in response it only got tighter. Your eyes were wide, starting to feel awake. “Is it that late already?” He asked, rubbing your stomach lightly, as if he wasn’t the one with the watch.

He pulled you over to face him, holding you in a hug. Your face pressed against his bare chest, an evident blush covering your face as he kissed your head again. The lack of clothing kept him cool, making it incredibly comfortable in the morning.

He tilted your head up, meeting your eyes. “Just a few more minutes, I’m tired,” he chuckled, feeling as you pushed him away. “Okay just a few more… or else your breakfast won’t be ready,” you groaned at the thought. His lunch could be put together with leftovers in the fridge, and of course he wouldn’t complain, but all the fresh fruit you had picked up the store would go to waste if it wasn’t used up.

It felt like eternity wrapped in his arms, hearing his deep and slow breaths, the sound of his heart beating, and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as you laid your head on it.

So much so that you didn’t realize it had only been thirty minutes by the time you worked up the will to ask.

“Darling?” You spoke softly, reaching up to give him a kiss yourself. “It’s 6:08, if you’re curious.” He responded, seeing you stare at his wrist. “Thank you, for this.” He pressed his lips onto yours, still just briefly, finally allowing you to get up. The downside to this morning arrangement, in Nanami’s opinion, was that he was awake. You took care of everything he needed to do in the morning, brewing his much needed cup of coffee and picking out his clothing, so that all he had to do was get up and move around, saving his energy for work. But what was the point of being laying in bed when you were gone?

You pushed the covers off your legs, quickly standing up off the bed as to not get drawn back in. Nanami sat up as well, resting against the headboard. Luckily, he still had the view of you rummaging through his closet, still all tired and in your nightgown, asking him sweetly about his activities for that day to choose the perfect tie.

Now he was definitely not going back to sleep.

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami #jjk x reader

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beababoobies · 3 months

Note

Hope this is alright, I'm new to requesting ! But per chance could you write some sir pentious x warm!reader ? Like the reader is warm to the touch and the snake man likes to stay close since hes cold blooded.. up to you if want them to have an established relationship or have it as a crush !! Totally understand if you dont wish to write it/gen

Have a lovely day!

THIS IS CUTE GAHHHHHHH !1!11!1! YEAHHH!!! I love snake man and one of my special interests is reptiles and they silly little heat lamps. Absolutely. I went with an established relationship for this one and I hope you don’t mind. Enjoy! :)

Warmth

words : 1k pairing ; Sir Pentious x Reader

Pentious loved touch in general - it was reassuring, nice, and it made him feel human all over again. But he loved when you touched him. Hell was already a pretty warm climate, but he loved how warm it was in your arms. Your skin felt comforting, like his own personal heat lamp.

Every time you slept in the same bed, he would always slither into your arms with you wrapped right around him like a koala. He loves feeling the body head from your chest straight against his, considering how cold it got in the hotel some nights. You were always warm - his little furnace.

Sometimes, even while just doing rehabilitation exercises, he’d ask you to cup your hands around his face for a couple seconds, which would always turn into a couple minutes, until Charlie called you two back to keep participating in trust falls or sharing circles. When you two cuddled, he’s always quickly to put his hands under your shirt. Not even in a sexual way, he just loves how warm it is right under there.

There are times when you have to pry him off you, but it’s not often enough for you to care. Sometimes you’ll be eating dinner and he’ll try to nuzzle up to you, rubbing his cheek against yours, only for you to gently remind him you’re trying to eat.

One time during trust falls, he wouldn’t let go of you after he caught you. Charlie and Vaggie had to convince him that he’d get you back in a second, but it was his turn. It took him ten minutes to get off. And even then, he would only do the trust fall if you caught him. You can’t lie and say that went very well.

One of your favourite memories; a warm Sunday afternoon, his tail wrapped around one of your legs and hands under your shirt, on the bare skin of your back, head nestled into the crook of your neck, and chest pressed up against yours to get the maximum warmth. The sun is peeking out from the window and making you even warmer. He’s practically in heaven.

You were already asleep, snoring softly as your body, heavy with sleep, radiated all the warmth he swears he could ever need, chest rising and falling softly against his. He wants to look back, see how adorable you look asleep and out of it, but the warmth of your neck against his cheek is too much to miss out on.

It goes by like this for a few hours - cuddled up to you and listening to your pulse and soft snores, not even daring to fall asleep and miss out on how comfortable and at peace he feels, until you wake up. You sit up, immediately hearing his sleepy protests from behind you before you get pulled right back into his arms.

“Well, good afternoon to you too.” You mumble sleepily with a giggle, as he mumbles your greeting back into the skin of your neck, and you gently place your hand on the back of his head, softly petting him and feeling him relax back into you, his cold scales pressed up against your warm skin making you smile.

“Do you love me or how warm I am, huh?” You joke with a smile on your face, only to watch him pull back with worry in his eyes, shaking his head rapidly. “I love you for sssso many other reasssonsss!” He says, concerned as your burst out giggling, watching as his expression turns from concerned and panicked to confused.

“I was joking, baby. I’m happy to be your little heating lamp, my love.” You mumbled softly as you press a kiss to his forehead, watching him relax his head onto your chest, letting out a sigh of relief as he closes his eyes again.

“You’re my favourite heat lamp…” he mumbles out quietly as you feel him start to fall asleep, body becoming sleepy weight in your arms as you feel your eyes flutter shut, snores slowly syncing up with your lovers.

Or maybe even when you woke up in the middle of the night to him talking to his egg boys before you got together, knocking on his door just to find him complaining about how cold it was.

You wrapped him up in your arms under your blankets, egg boys being sent to their own bed, while you cuddled up to him. You remember so distinctly how rigid and timid he was at first. Not knowing where to put his hands, how to approach the situation.

“I - isss thisss okay?” He hissed softly as he put his hands on your back, head laid out on your chest, as you hummed out a small ‘mhm.’ tiredly, feeling him slowly start to warm up in your arms, body slowly relaxing.

“.. can I put them under your sssshirt?” He asks quietly; so quietly you can barely hear it, actually. You smile softly to yourself, before giving him another small but affirming ‘mhm.’ His hands were so cold you almost flinched away from them as he put his hands flat against the warmth of your back, letting out a sigh of relief.

You lay like that for a while, feeling him slowly relax under your hold, no longer shivering. His head properly laid on your chest, instead of the awkward slightly raised just above your skin it was doing before, listening to your heartbeat. His chest was fully pressed against yours, like his own personal radiator.

“Better?” You ask quietly, gently petting his head, one hand on his back rubbing small circles into it as he nods, not caring to open his eyes. He looks so lovely and satisfied in this state - you can’t bare to get up and move once he was warmed up like you originally planned.

That’s the first night you really started to fall for him. Maybe the first night he started to fall for you. Falling asleep with him holding you so tightly yet so softly, soaking in the warmth of your skin as he slept. Falling asleep the sound of your heartbeat slowing as you fell asleep too.

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin sir pentious #sir pentious #sir pentious x reader #snake man supremacy

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anlian-aishang · 4 months

Text

Tags: levi ackerman x reader, mutual pining [coworkers] to smut, only one bed, non-sexual spitting, alcohol mention, reader wears levi’s shirt, cunnilingus, penetration, modern AU, fem!reader Word count: 10,000 A/N: thank you to @lostinwildflowers for betaing this! Birch is one my writing idols, so I am truly honored. I hope you enjoy <3

This can’t be happening.

Unknowingly, the two of you shared a silent sentiment. After a late taxi, long lines of airport security, and racing to the terminal only to be delayed for several hours, the cherry on the shit sundae - as he would put it - was the midnight arrival to a hotel with only one bed.

“You’re sure?”

The look on the nervous teenager’s face conveyed the answer before he even uttered the question. Still, Levi knew he had to ask, audibly enough for you to hear - just so you would know that he did. In the face of liability, you had to acknowledge that he had tried his best.

“I’m really sorry, sir.” Their eyes were darting in panic between you and Levi as if you were the antidote to this angry customer. But he wasn’t angry, at least, not at them. Wasn’t the brat’s fault that Erwin booked the wrong room. “I have that in the afternoon of September the 15th, E. Smith booked a single king bed for one adult guest.”

“Two adult guests.”

They shared a lengthy eye contact. From the background, you watched their miscommunication unfold and cringed with secondhand embarrassment. You nearly burst into nervous laughter when they shrugged, “I can provide you with extra complimentary toiletries.”

At his sides, Levi unclenched his fists in defeat, “...We’ll manage.”

The plastic key cards made a satisfying sound as the receptionist slid them across the marble countertop - equal and opposite to the dissatisfaction on Levi’s face. In one smooth motion, he handed you your copy while simultaneously whipping out his cell phone. Two clicks - speed dial and call. Two rings - Erwin answered.

You couldn’t hear the other end, but you had your guesses.

Hello?

“You fucked up.”

Sorry?

“As you should be.”

For what?

“Stuffing two adults in one bed, what made you think we’d appreciate that accommodation?”

Given the looks you’ve been giving each other at the office, I thought you might.

Levi violently snapped his phone closed in hopes you couldn’t hear that. Thrusting his phone in his pocket, he used his free hand to snatch luggage from yours. “Give me that.”

A kind gesture, but irritation in his voice made it confusing. You thought to grab it back and insist that you could handle it, but instead, held your tongue. Clearly, he was steaming. Any objection, even a well-intended one, you doubted it would better his mood. Walking towards the lift, you concluded that nothing you had to say would supply ice to his ire. Though, the walk, time, and your calming presence, seemed to be working, you thought as you watched him delicately pad the UP button.

In the intimacy of the elevator, Levi allowed himself one venting word, “Idiot.” He sighed, placed his thumb and pointer finger on each of his temples, and rubbed wrinkles into his skin. “As if we haven’t already been through enough.”

Today and long before, the two of you had been through plenty together. Tonight was the first time you would pin it on Erwin. All other times, it had been your own selves and each other to blame.

He loved the way you looked in those small pencil skirts and see-through tights, but he hated what it did to him. Meetings in which he could only stare, absorbing nothing. In the middle of a phone call, when you walked by, he would forget its purpose and stammer aimlessly. Nights kept awake, staring at his ceiling, a blank canvas for projecting his wandering thoughts: how you would look with the skirt yanked up and the tights pulled down, how you took your outfit off after work, and if you wanted his help with that.

Countless times, you had cursed the man you crushed on. The way he ran his fingers through his hair when overworked made you want to try it yourself, to take his stressors away - or better yet - serve as the relief to them. On hot days, he loosened his top button. On lucky days, the top two. On his way out the door, he would tug his tie out from under his collar, creating a loop wide enough for you to slip your hand through and use it to pull his lips to yours - or so you imagined. Each day, Levi had fed you tastes. Over time, your craving for him had grown unbearable.

Ultimately, this out-of-town assignment was a test, and a final exam at that. Years of studying one another were culminating in one night, on one bed. The chime of the elevator interrupted your thoughts as if it was a warning: ground yourself. The plain of Levi’s expression and calm in his pace on the way to room 845 echoed its sense: he was unriled, uninterested.

Your read was wrong. Levi was thankful that you trailed him: with his back to you, you could not see his rouge tint, the bite of his lip, or the twitch of his cheek. As he pressed his key to the reader, held the heavy hotel door, and slugged both of your belongings atop the desk and dresser, you admired the way he moved so suavely - when actually, he considered his motions stiff, careful, and calculated.

Neither of you bothered to turn on the light. Taxed bodies, tired eyes, and tempted temperaments shared a desire to finally climb in bed. No need to delay things any longer. Levi unzipped his suitcase, the sound garnered your attention. Immediately, you noticed now neatly he had packed, admired his organization and pristine folds, then planned that when it came your time to unpack, you would aim to shield your messy methods from the clean freak’s vision.

A gray cotton tee - matching his eyes, black sweatpants - same shade as his hair. A navy canvas travel bag topped the pile. Levi leaned effortlessly against the white bathroom door and stated, “I’ll change in here.”

You nodded vehemently, as if he had ordered you on an important mission, “I’ll be out here.”

Cute. And at that intrusive thought, he silently ducked away.

Unbuckling his belt, tugging his zipper, freeing his legs from his slacks, Levi tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. Every muscle in his body finally untensed, he was set free from one cage of many. His business-casual confines had been done away with. Now, he just had professionalism, work relationships, and his fucking hormones to maintain.

His boxer briefs were agitatingly taut, struggling to constrain years’ worth of tension in their cotton threads. Levi looked down to his lap and cursed himself. Hovering around thirty, yet all the composure of a fresh young bachelor. Gradually, Levi hooked his thumb beneath the elastic waistband and loosened just a little, allowing him room to breathe. Too much room maybe as the chill thermostat air contrasted harshly with his warmed passion and drew a loud hiss. Levi clenched his teeth hard in an attempt to bar his vocals, praying to whatever power that you wouldn’t knock on the door and call Levi, you alright? It was just the kind of person you were, and Levi had come to know you well.

That anxiety turned out to be false, for your ears were ringing: ignorant of his desires, overwhelmed by your own. Gingerly, you unzipped your luggage and fret at the sight: a little black nightgown with lace on the hems. Its sight hit you like a load of bricks, lightning to the thunderous memory of your midnight, sleep-deprived, frantic packing. That woman was giddy for the business trip with her office crush and, in that frenzy, picked her sexiest pajamas for the special occasion. Goddammit! If only you knew that he wouldn’t be seeing it from across the room as a tease, he would be sleeping next to it, maybe even feeling it if one of you crossed your half of the mattress. Cursing yourself, you dug frantically in search of something - anything - else to wear to bed, but were rudely met with only pantsuits and blouses. You bunched your nightgown in your trembling fists, but its thinness and shortness allowed it to fit wholly in your hands - foiling your coping strategy. All you could do was tip your head back and sigh to the ceiling, Fuck me.

That feeling echoed when you draped it over yourself and saw your reflection in the hotel window. Your hair was disheveled from the long day. Makeup smeared and ran down your face, eyeliner to eyeshadow. Wrinkles in your silk dress. Looks like you were already fucked.

On the other side of the door, Levi was thinking the same thing: he was absolutely fucked. His erection stood high after minutes of waiting. Cold water splashed on his face, but his fever seemed to evaporate it. Trying to think about humbling topics, but he couldn’t get you off his mind. To make his arousal vanish, there was one thing he could do, but there wasn’t enough time for that. Even if the shower were running, Levi doubted that the downpour of water would be able to suppress the noises of slapping skin or his embarrassingly heightened vocals. Fuck. Levi clutched the bathroom countertop and sighed at his reflection. His exhale fogged the mirror just before he hung his head down and conceded. God, help me.

His prayers ignored, you ended up knocking on the bathroom door eventually: “Levi?”

Every nerve in his body froze. He stammered more times than he would have liked before managing a stern “What?”

“Sorry! I just -” humiliated heat seemed to radiate off of you, “- take your time, I just -”

Half listening, half panicking, Levi seemed not to pay mind to your take your time - stepping into his joggers and throwing on his shirt as fast as he could.

“- can I brush my teeth?”

You were startled when his response was a quick and loud turn of the handle, wordlessly letting you in. Levi was surprised to see you the way you were: temptress dress with a toothbrush and toothpaste innocently perched in each hand. The eye contact lasted for three seconds, but you could have sworn that it was that many years long.

The twitch of your hands and your heart’s lofty goals placed a dollop of toothpaste twice as big as you normally would. Had to have perfect breath, just in case. Not even just in case, you were going to lay beside him - mere inches away - for the next several hours. In those seconds of pondering, gravity began to spill your toothpaste off the bristles and towards the pristine marble vanity. With haste, you jammed the toothbrush into your mouth, causing you to gag on your device.

Levi felt his erection press against his waistband and rolled his eyes at his own stupid urges. You assumed that eye roll was for you and offered an innocent grin. Not so innocent, however, was your curiosity. His t-shirt was tight, leaving little to the imagination. One arm’s reach from an array of muscles, you kept your eyes deliberately on the mirror ahead. However, your doppelganger had a mind of her own apparently, gaze falling from eye contact and onto his chest, waist, abdomen. Without even having to turn his head, Levi could see your staring, obviously more obvious than you thought it would be. With your attention on his lower half, Levi allowed himself a smirk.

Such a silly thing, but was this the first time you brushed your teeth next to someone? This handful of minutes was inexplicably romantic, oddly domestic. Pajamas, double sinks, and the end of a long day. You had been coworkers, acquaintances, and unknowingly requited lovers, but for this one moment, you were husband and wife.

White toothpaste lined the gap between his top and bottom lip, and for some reason, you felt your knees buckle. Levi ducked down to spit, a polite attempt to hide it. Your eyes rejected his offer, instead widening as your pupils honed in on the sight. Leaning forward ever so slightly, you savored yet loathed the way his rejection ran down the pipe. What a waste.

Levi sheathed his toothbrush back in its protective case, a neat freak through and through, and slid it back into his tote. Sifting through, he stumbled upon a mini bottle of mouthwash, making him freeze with indecision: added freshness at the cost of spitting in front of you again? He felt that once had already been rude enough. Levi shot you a side-eye and made an unexpected eye contact: he was trying to read you, you were already staring. Mutually miscommunicated guilt, both of you felt you had been caught and snapped back to aversion.

It came your turn to rinse your mouth, and he couldn’t help it. Levi could have blamed his peripheral vision, could have blamed the bright lights that lined the mirror, but hard-pressed, he could not come up with an excuse for why he watched you then. The streak of white that shot out of your mouth, its wake dribbling down your lips. Goddammit, you cursed your clumsiness and hastily wiped your mess with a washcloth. He knew it as well as you did: he should have been grossed out. Only Levi realized, though, how much he liked it, he was just too ashamed to admit it.

Though his arousal screamed, his lips stayed silent. There was a time and place.

Was there? You’ve worked together for how long? All those years, they never had a time or place?

A long inhale, a slow exhale, his fingers curled underneath the cold countertop, hoping its chill would thwart the flush of his chest. Fuck how badly he wanted to kiss you then, to thumb that white stain off your chin and into his mouth, to clutch the backs of your thighs and hoist you onto that vanity. Your waist in his hands, your sex in line with his -

“Levi?”

“Yeah?”

His rapid response, you mistook it as anger. While the voice on his shoulder was lust, yours was insecurity. Surely, you’re the last straw. Having to share a bed with a dork like you? He’s had a tough day. Don’t make him endure this.

“Do you want me to take the floor?”

A dumbbell dropped to the pit of his stomach. Of course not, but for you to bring it up, he must have been hasty to assume that you would share the bed. Levi grit his teeth, annoyed with his lofty goals. Two slow blinks, “I can.”

That was the last thing you wanted. “N-No… I don’t - I don’t mean…” Your lips parted in stammer. Eyes darted as if the tile walls would whisper you the answer. For a moment, you cursed the beautiful neutrality of his face: impossible not to love, but impossible to read. His stillness was contagious, though, and brought you to settle on an answer, “I’ll meet you under the sheets.”

Ears burned red as they checked: was that selective hearing or was that what you really said? Before his eyes could study you, you turned on your heel and closed the door shut.

Once again, on opposite sides of the door, your sentiment was shared: Phew.

He took a few minutes after that. When he finally walked out, he found that you had been lotioning your legs over that time. Dim glow of the bedside lamp reflected on your smooth skin. If not for the way he had come to know you, to respect and appreciate you, this sight could have been the cover of some sketchy magazine. Eagerness glazed your eyes. Your hands had been massaging your inner thighs, now a perfect shield for the gem between your legs. Levi gave the slightest shake of his head, not disapproval, but disbelief. How did you manage such effortless perfection?

Was that not everything about you, though? The most minute smile in meetings. Biting your lip when you were bored. A laugh so beautiful that it served as its own positive reinforcement, beckoning others to amuse you again. Were you the one?

Or was it the eyes of your beholder? Maybe you weren’t perfect, maybe that’s why you were in his eyes. Despite all the signs of your singlehood - never in a rush to get home, never a mention of a date - he never truly believed it. It was a war of his flawless intuition and steep infatuation. Either you were the one for him, or he had been wrong all these years.

Get in the bed, idiot.

His stride was steady, captivating, as he made his way to the side of the bed. In habit, Levi crossed his arms across his torso, prepared to lift up, but caught himself halfway. No, he would not be sleeping shirtless tonight. Neither would he sleep in his loose and breathable boxer shorts, but instead, stifling fleece. Already, for one reason or another, he was sweating. Upon approach, the layers upon layers of sheets, blanket, and comforter looked even more suffocating. He caught a glimpse of the thermostat, but then of you, and found your skin laden with goosebumps. Lips rolled beneath his teeth, bargaining, but he could not bring himself to turn the AC up while your body temperature was down. Just as strongly, he refused to do anything that might make you uncomfortable, like taking off his clothes, no matter how badly he wanted to. More words would have served you both well, tearing down the artificial barrier your doubts were constructing.

Can I take this off?

I would love nothing more.

But you were both stupid to imagine that dialogue.

Levi slowly reclined back, sighing as he sunk into the sheets. Already, his skin was burning. He combed his fingers back through his bangs and released a heavy sigh. A heavenly trial, you read it as a hellish endurance, and instinctually apologized, “...I’m sorry about this.”

You have nothing to be sorry for, Levi pondered the response, but deemed it too much. Instead, he feigned a disinterested mumble, “It’s Erwin’s fault.”

You, on the other hand, indulged your gut feeling, “He’s done worse.”

Levi huffed a single exhale, his version of a chuckle.

You turned on your side. He loved that you chose to face him rather than the wall. He hated that he even thought of that. You were so close, he could feel the mattress dip between you, could feel your breath cool against his skin. Eyes fluttering shut, your voice was either sultry or exhausted, a glass-half-full kind of thing. “Good night, Levi.”

Fuck, what a fight, battling the urge to kiss you then and there. Your eyes sparkling, noses nearly touching, he had sworn that this was how all the shitty romcoms went, but he failed to find anything lackluster about this scene. His lips yearned to close that distance, arms ached to perch themselves at your sides. Levi redirected that energy to his hands, fisting the comforter hard as he draped it gently over your shoulders, “Night, (Y/N).”

But how were you going to sleep like this? Although you were running off a 20-hour day, you felt that sleep would be a waste. Queueing for tickets to see your favorite artist, only to close the window the moment your turn came. Styling your hair just to go and get it cut straight after. Champagne dumped down the drain. Mentally, it was an unbearable thought. Physically, your body was even more resistant to the idea. Your middle was fucking throbbing. Nipples stood tall against their skimpy silk covering as if reaching for more contact, his contact. Legs squirmed against one another, trying to smother the burn between them, but you willed them frozen: don’t wake him up.

In your best state of mind, you would have recalled the symptoms of his insomnia: always a tall thermos of caffeine on his desk, perpetual circles under his eyes, especially the times you both worked late. On your way out, you would peek through the pane of glass on his door to wave good-bye. Now and then, he would be hunched over his desk, imprints of the keyboard on his cheek - a makeshift pillow for his crash naps. With a shred of thought, you would have realized he was likely already awake, but you were incapable of even that. It was midnight when you crawled into the king bed. Red digits at your side now read 1:40 AM, yet you knew that not one of those one-hundred minutes had been spent in sleep. Coffee in the morning, nerves on the plane, hormones now, you had left composure back at your apartment and you weren’t sure you’d get it back at any point of this business trip. I mean shit, you swore, this was only the first night.

Only the first night. One of many sure to come, right? How many nights had he gone to bed alone, kept awake with longing of having you by his side? How many mornings had he woken himself up with a sleepy mumble of your name, only to find one half of his bed empty? It couldn’t all be for nothing. Now that he was sharing the bed with you, it was all he ever wanted, yet you were still out of reach. Uncharacteristic, the most reliable man you knew was spiraling in thought.

But to you, it would make sense: the only one who could bring Levi Ackerman down was none other than himself. He saw it a different way: you were the only one who could dismantle him like this.

You could feel his heat emanating, could see his sweat reflecting. Before you could stop yourself, your affection had boiled over, “Levi…” your voice was hoarse, having gone hours without as much as a whisper, and unexpectedly loud. His silver gaze drifted to you, depleting the last of your reserves, you mused, “...you’re hot.”

A statement, not a question. In near pitch blackness, he allowed himself a rare smirk. Levi waited until it faded to turn towards you.

You pinched the hem of his shirt in your fingertips, nails accidentally scraped his abdomen on the way. “Want this off?” You tugged lightly, “I don’t mind.”

At the same time, you shivered, and Levi filled in the blanks to ground his wandering mind. “Cold?” His hands brushed yours on the way to the bottom of the garment. Levi bunched fists in his fabric and lifted it effortlessly up, over, off his head - as he wanted to do all those hours ago. Pent-up relief, he thrust his shirt to you and offered, “Could’ve just asked.”

You were right all along. All along, those loose button-up shirts had covered a chiseled body. He must have been curling with arms like that. A pull-up bar on the back of his bedroom door, how many repetitions did it take to get these muscles? Your eyes scanned every inch of him but could find not one flaw. Your lips were moving, but words failed to emerge. There were a million things you wanted to say to him, to tell him, but only one came through. You received his gift gingerly and muttered, “Thanks.”

This was a moment you had distantly fantasized over for years. Turns out, this was even better than you dreamed. His shirt carried a garden of mint, lavender, and tea leaves in its scent. In putting it on, you felt that you gained a glimpse into Eden. The fabric was satin soft and sheer thin. In watching you wear it, Levi felt in the presence of an angel. It highlighted the curves he loved and introduced him to ones he had never noticed before. Brows narrowed, pupils dilated in his gaze - concerned and deviant. The straight cut forced your waist and hips to confine. The small-pattern chest was clearly never meant to accommodate a body like yours. Threads were spread taut by your cleavage, nearly torn apart as they strained to cover you. In his eyes, he thought it fit you perfectly.

Arms finally through the sleeves. Beneath them, your hairs stood on end. Again, you shivered, but could not pinpoint why. It did not take the shiver, though, to convey your state. Your erect points stood above all. Levi looked to you with both pity and admiration, his voice their lovechild: “Look at you.”

You simmered, embarrassed yet teasing, “Looking isn't helping.” You crossed your arms before your chest and bundled yourself together, “If you really care -”

He did.

“- then do something about it.”

Unfolding the quilt from the foot of the bed, turning up the room’s temperature - those were the most straightforward solutions. But Levi was not thinking straight, and he had a feeling that was what you wanted. Slowly, Levi sifted his arm behind your shoulders, when you snuggled in, he sealed his wrap with a hand at your side.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze descended to meet yours. Likewise, you raised your gaze to meet. Painfully aware that this was a first for the both of you - neither his passion nor your arousal would shut up about it. At the same time, watching you shiver reminded him of all the times he had silently substituted your needs. Behind on work, you never asked for assistance, but would hurriedly throw things his way if Levi offered his help. When your car wouldn’t start that one winter day, who knows how long you would’ve paced in the parking lot had he not pulled his sedan beside yours and given you a jump? A sharp pang seized his heart in realization: he thought you were close, and now you were physically there, yet you still were not comfortable enough to ask him for anything - even though you both wanted it.

“Y’know,” his thumb rubbed your shoulder, “you should learn to just ask for what you want.”

Indeed, 2 AM haze was shrouding his awareness, too - particularly his self-awareness. Was it not him who steeped your tea in the mornings and tidied your desk before he left each night? He could have - should have - just asked you out all those times. How much sooner would this night have come if he had? Levi swore to live without regrets, but that did not stop him from acknowledging the opportunities he had missed thus far. He tossed you the takeaway he wished he had learned long ago: “Makes things a lot easier.”

At first, you thought he was chastising you. The stern monotone of his voice could chill you to the bone at times, but when you took in his expression, you felt warm all over. His brows were not knit, but perched in a tender lift. His breaths were not terse, like when he got annoyed, but slow and calm. At the same time, though, you could feel his heart pounding hard, could hear it when you placed your ear over his chest. Clouded moonlight softened those hardlined features, and again, you wondered if this was your first night together or actually your honeymoon: wasn’t this kind of pillow talk reserved for spouses alone?

A deep swallow, and the last time you checked yourself. Could he have looked any more genuine? Any more readable? Transparent? You didn’t think so. For the man of few words, this was all but an admission of his feelings for you, and it was the best look you had ever seen on him. His advice, his command, invited you to try that outfit on.

“Practice with me?”

One slight nod, so slight - you knew no one would have noticed it but you. In that, you felt your confidence soar, pulling the words from your heart to the air between you both, “Hold me tighter?”

He did.

“Pull me closer?”

He did.

“And kiss me already.”

Levi could not describe it, the feeling that overcame him when he heard your demand. Proud of you. Relieved. At peace yet exhilarated. The serenity that all was right in the world, yet the anticipation of what he had wanted all along. The nature of the kiss aligned with the latter. For two agonizing seconds, he examined you. Assured by the sight of your smile, he longed to taste it for himself. Thumb pressed to the curve of your chin, index finger perched under it, slowly yet with unwavering passion - that was the way Levi brought your lips together.

Soft, as he expected. Expert, as you had. Initial contact was delicate, the warmup slow. Levi always went so hard at everything he did, held such a sharp tongue, which was why the way he brushed against you made your heart stop. You knew strength to be his greatest, most innate feature, and therefore you deciphered that this tenderness was a display of exertion. Levi showed no signs of struggle, though. Touch-starved for you, yet his lips chose to waltz rather than tango. His hand on your chin drifted to the back of your neck. Nape cupped in his palm, he used that leverage to drift you here and there, allowing him to taste all of you - encouraging you to do the same with him.

Levi tasted like peppermint, the brand so sharp that it made you sneeze now and then, he had learned after enough lunch breaks. You tasted like cinnamon, the stick that baristas stuck in his chai come the colder months. When your tongues met, they created a new taste. After minutes of exchange, they became addicted to it. Their craving demanded all efforts in that search: Levi’s grip pulled you closer, you threw an arm over his back. Breaths turned to gasps, a wordless understanding of all you would do for the other: grab his mail on the way in, walk you to your car at night, and kiss until you were out of breath.

The thought had never crossed your mind, but his actions disintegrated it - the possibility that this was some selfish, opportunistic spell. Levi was nearly shaking with anticipation, his erection pained with neglect, but that did not influence his pace. Each time you thought the makeout might end, he would catch his breath with “pretty girl…” before joining you once again. His kiss was lovely, as was the spark at your middle, but his ardor was gas to your flame, and before you knew it, you were ablaze. You found your body rise against his, pushing off the mattress, and rolling to grind against the friction of his rigid figure. Levi was everything you ever wanted, and maybe you were just that desperate or just that greedy - the fact that you needed more. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

You thought twice before breaking from the kiss, one last deep plunge of your tongue to his throat before pulling away, conscious to savor the taste. “Levi…” you sighed.

A string of saliva hung between you, the clean freak calmly closed his fist over it, and you felt yourself shudder again, “can we keep practicing?”

His lips were one degree north of flat, about as big of a smile as anyone would see on Ackerman. Tonight, just the two of you here, it felt inexplicably, particularly special. “Make love to me.”

An advanced learner, you always went the extra mile. Back then, Levi had no doubt, it was the reason you had been promoted so quickly. Now, it was that you had aced the first lesson and jumped to the next: no longer asking, demanding already. Sentimental was not a feeling he knew, but proof that you were this comfortable with him was indeed something.

His praise reflected that feeling back onto you, “That’s right, good girl.” The back of his hand brushed unruly strands from your face. A kiss on your forehead rewarded, “like that.”

Once more, he pressed his lips to yours, but it was not even a second that he stayed - just a starting point to the journey that was exploring your body. Lips slid to the corner of your mouth, down your jawline, neck, then chest. A trail of hickeys and teeth grazes was left - tomorrow’s meetings and your professionalism having vanished from his mind. His hands joined the excursion: one gentle yet relishing in its caress of your neck, the other crawled up your - his - shirt. The familiar texture of his old garment contrasted with the novel feel of your skin. Muscles twitched with satisfaction, disrupting the fluidity of his motions, but you found beauty in the unpredictability of his touch. Rose-colored lenses were blind to the signs of his weakness, instead chalking those movements up to Levi’s expertise. As you tipped your head back and sighed, Levi figured it was the first misunderstanding that had done you two any good tonight.

On his descent, he could not help but take a stop at your breasts. Turns out, it was never just his imagination, but given your curvature, of course your buttons would have been stretched to contain you. Those blouses had been his guilty favorite for that very reason, but his tight t-shirt was taking a close second. No, that slip you wore when you joined him in the bathroom, that must’ve been the best, right? Blood rushed, pupils dilated, his body anxious for a visual refresher.

You were going faster than he could have hoped. Already, he was proud of you for having graduated to demands. Now, you had learned to act on your own - either having read his mind or listening to your own desires. Levi could not decide which possibility he preferred, but when you lifted your top and perched it at your clavicle, he was ashamed to admit that his mind had discarded all other affairs.

Levi nestled his cheek in your cleavage, and though you were over a thousand miles away, he felt he was at home. Warm pillows cupped him, and both of you felt that the space was made for him to fill. Levi’s breath was hot on your skin, yet your nipples appeared as though you were in a winter wilderness. Of course, he took notice in all your details, and sighed in mutual enamor, “Fuck, baby…”

It was a tone you had never heard in his voice before. Desperation and desire in a man so ever assured and disinterested, you felt your panties drip from damped to soaked. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You, too, was what you thought to say, but somehow, the word seemed inadequate. His body was artwork: a symmetric abdomen, muscular forearms, veins that stood against his skin, you longed to trace him as such. Bangs that fell perfectly imperfectly over his face, begging that you run your fingers through them: mess with them now, gel them straight in the morning. You could slice paper on that jawline, could get lost in his eyes. No matter how long you stared, and stared you had, Levi was like the sunset: even after a hard day, always breathtakingly gorgeous.

Especially with the perspective you had now. One hand cupped your waist, the other your breast, perching you into his mouth, eye contact deliberately maintained throughout his movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Levi’s tongue swirled your nipple before his lips audibly slurped. “To get what you want…”

Again, the fog of the nameless hours between night and day had blinded him to the relevance his words had to himself. How long had he wanted this? How good did it feel? He had no verbal answer for it, only the fervor of his actions: sprightly tongue and rocks of his hips. As you always had, you filled his gaps: while he could not fathom the words, yours overflowed.

“Oh, Levi… Fuck, Levi…!” your desperate cries of his name made him leak onto the hotel sheets, no longer pristine. Your harsh exhales ran currents through his hair, and suddenly, it seemed you two had traded temperatures. Now, he was the one shivering while you sweat through the shirt. For his fever, he craved one antidote. Crawling down your body, his approach to the medicine cabinet. He prepared to ask for his dosage.

“My turn.”

Huh?

You propped yourself up on your elbows and took a good look. A good look: Levi had wedged himself between your legs. Fingers caressed your thighs with a precise pressure, a touch that tickled in a way that made you want more, yet was strong enough that he could push your hips to the mattress and pry your legs apart. You had to bunch your fists and rub your eyes to check, maybe 3 AM was just fucking with you.

Levi read your search for reassurance and inserted conviction into his tone. His stare and voice unwavering, “Can I taste you?”

Yeah, 3 AM was definitely fucking with you, for this was too good to be true. His sharp chin dwindled above the soft of your sex. His gaze set on your soul. Both of you agreed: his hands had never felt so calloused until they met your smooth thighs. It was a dream you would have woken up thankful to have had bestowed on you, but the grip he had on you was so perpetually undeniable: this was real. Head spinning, mind raced to catch up, yet Levi’s wait was so astonishingly still. Levi knew he would make you feel good. Based on your state, it seemed he was already doing that. Now, you just had to say yes, but he would not push you towards any one answer, nor would he do anything more until you arrived at it. If you wanted it, you had to ask for it, sweetheart.

A flood of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one screaming over the other, you felt you were drowning. In your search for stability, you relied on your sense of sight: Levi Ackerman between your legs. What the fuck are you waiting for?

“Y’Yes, Levi.” You reached down and held his forehead. As you brushed his bangs from his face, he offered another half-smile, but it was brief, for he was past the point of eager. Still, the calm in his pace remained. Slowly, his hands snaked from the backs of your thighs to the sides of your hips. Thumbs hooked between the straps of your panties and your skin. His fingers clenched over them, bringing the garment past your knees, down your shins, and off your ankles. From chest to toes, you were now entirely exposed. At first, you wrangled with embarrassment, but his infatuation was your comfort. Hunger seized his vision, thirst drove his actions. You had nothing to be afraid of.

His earlier route, lips to neck, neck to chest, chest to torso, was now mirrored. Levi cupped your heels in his hand and lifted your feet, allowing him to plant kisses up and up your legs, drags of his tongue followed to connect the dots. Minutes gone by, and even after having pocketed your consent, he still had yet to put his mouth there. Spending time to appreciate your thighs, he wanted you to know how long he had been anticipating this, and now that he had finally landed his spot, he would be damn sure to save the best bite for last.

Left arm wrapped around your thigh, Levi nestled his head against it, allowing his perspective to stay sound on your sex. His right hand trailed from your knee to your middle, and at last, you knew he was getting started. At first, it was his fingertips, and at that mere first touch came your sudden awakening as to how dire your desire had grown. Your hands flew back and clutched your pillow, Levi admired the tendons that rose in your wrist, and your voice, “A’Ahh!!”

He shot one glance up to check on you, but the look on your face ensured you were more than okay. With that, he decided to repeat the pattern of his rubs. Index and middle finger paired as they rode the sliver between your lips, your arousal slickened his knuckles. Once wet enough, he would split his digits into a V, each one taking responsibility for one of your folds. When that friction ran dry, he would return to your core, a seemingly never-ending source of lubrication, to run the process back again. You should not have been surprised, for everything with him was purposed - in the office or in the bedroom. With your interior and exterior in a coat of your own clear, he would have the freedom to run his mouth, no need to lick his lips or garner more saliva. Years of anticipation, now that the moment had arrived, he was going to spend the extra seconds to make sure this went according to plan.

Your glisten was so thorough, looking at you, Levi swore he could see his own weak reflection, the blush on his cheeks, the sweat on his forehead. In that way, his plunge was accelerated: preferring to trade the sight of his unruly state for the taste of you. Lips circled to match your curves, and you quickly identified this as a familiar feeling in an unfamiliar place. Levi was kissing you with the same tenderness he had displayed in your makeout, only now, he was between your legs. His jaw stretched wide to ensure he could reach every inch, from the top of your cleft, along your crescent sides, and to the spot where they rejoined. With his mouth in control, he let his hands indulge in your body, adorned upon your delectable waist, light squeezes of your ass, and massaging the divots of your inner thighs. His lips practiced that motion with a goal of perfection. Meanwhile, his tongue distracted you from any signs of his learning. Slow, purposed drags from bottom to top made your love pool on the tip of his tongue - each accumulation swallowed with a satisfied groan. Levi’s oral was pristine, only an occasional slurp and smack, allowing both of your vocals to take the stage. Your sky-high gasps, his low and satiated moans. He lived for the moments you would syllabize his name “Le-vi…” His “there you go” always followed, implicitly begging for more.

His neck began to bob in support of his movements. With that came a whole new level of pressure and slate of angles. His sharp nose slanted against your curves, lovely opposite to your soft. Your scent and your taste moved mountains within him, and in that, he noticed: his emotional pull was just as strong as his physical. All his life, he had grown to love bitter tastes, perhaps because they had been force fed to him. You were the first cube of sugar to have landed in his drink. Now, he had honey straight from the source. Levi felt his erection press hard against the mattress, “Fuck…” he whined, “you taste so good.”

Breath caught in your throat, all you could manage was a light sigh. As your lips twitched, he generously helped, taking the words right out of your mouth. “You have no idea…no idea -” Levi moaned, “how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this.”

At those words alone, you felt you might climax right then. Had he been eavesdropping on your dreams? How did he know that you had been fantasizing over that exact sentence for an unspeakable amount of time? “Me - Me too, Levi…”

Your admission was even sweeter, lifting his feelings from indulgence to fulfillment. All the nights he had spent awake, wondering if you were thinking of him the way he was of you, your confession was confirmation that this had been requited all that time. Levi found it both gratifying and maddening: gratifying to have discovered that your feelings were mutual, maddening how many years had gone by until that discovery. Levi grew determined to make up for all that time, revenge reflected in the acceleration of his actions.

Levi shoved his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you into a shameless, unhideable angle. Good thing, he mused, no more hiding. Shoulders propped at your midthigh, keeping you perched apart. Fingers wrapped around your skin, he pulled you down the bed and crashed you onto his face. Your gasp was exhausted as you tried to keep up. Both of you knew, though: you were no match. As his tongue thrust to unfathomable depths, you likewise could not conjure any idea of how to withstand this. Nose rubbed against your swollen bud, brows narrowed in determination, he looked nearly angry. Working hard for your climax, harder than he had for anything else, even his own.

Shit…!

If this keeps up…

A telltale tide turned in your tummy, spasms sparkled along your legs. Fingernails pierced the pillowcase, fighting off your impending loss of control. You could not delay it, not unless he - You fisted your hand in his hair, and he thought this was it. Instead, you pushed him away. “L’Le-vi…” a series of rapid pants, “hah, hah, ho’ld… on!”

His tongue flattened still. Between the vertex of your legs, his steel attention rose to you. Not anxious, but concerned, You alright?

“I, I want -”

At those words, he once again simmered with pride, thankful you had taken his ask for what you want to heart. After a few more breaths, you managed the minimum composure to plead, “I wanna cum with you.”

Levi’s first thought was one of generosity, you know you can have - I can give you - more than one, right? But he knew you better, and he knew what you meant. You wanted your first to be with him, and though he was parched with thirst, desperate for the taste of your cum in his mouth, your wants were foremost his. With a deep, patient breath, he watched your twitches slow to still. When the threat of your orgasm vanished, he calmly laid one final kiss to your core, etching your taste into his memory. His silver stare swallowed you down, a mental polaroid of your pose. His palm massaged your sex in physical praise, promising that he would never make you wait again, and that he’d definitely make you cum next time.

He started to ascend back up your body, but you flung yourself forward and met him halfway. Brows arched in shock, his eyes widened briefly, you closed them with another kiss. Mint flavor of before had been washed away by the taste of you. Further evidence of his devotion, you desired to prove that you were just as committed to him. You hooked your elbow to his nape and threaded fingers through his undercut - your turn to pull him here and there, granting yourself the freedom to explore the parts of him that you had always wanted to. Most of all, the length growing harder and harder to ignore.

Still, you were conscious to withhold your rush. You endeavored to slow your pace so that you could match the one he had performed on you. How good it felt - he deserved to feel it, too. You ran your hands down his chest the way rain slid down a windshield. Levi felt his boxers turn wet when your palms pressed upon his pecs, the buds of your hands kneading his tender patches. His exhales turned crackly, his inhales uneven. Laying kisses on each of his abs, down and down his torso, your contact held the compliments you were too shy to say. He heard them and reciprocated them: arm wrapped around your waist, bruises where his fingertips pressed - he hoped they would stay till morning, and that when you saw them, you would remember the love he had shown you tonight

Finally, you dipped your fingertips below his waistband. Sweat glazed his hips, allowing you to slide your hands in, but at this point, there was not much room for you. His erection had taken all his threads had to offer. You spared him the begging, sliding his cotton down his outstretched legs and finally releasing him from their confinement. Soaked in his own anticipation, veins visible, his arc steep. The shade of his member matched the one of his cheeks: the pink of a vulnerable blush, the crimson of ardent lust. As he watched you watch him, another dribble of clear dripped down his length. Levi grit his teeth and cursed. From stifling heat to cool air, that drench turned from comforting to exhilarating. In the wake of his tried swears, you gently cupped your hand around his girth and cleaned him as best as you could, spreading the leakage of his tip down to his base - his shaft your path. Contrast to his stress, you soothed him as you always had, just a different context this time.

It was his turn to cling to the sheets. Hands clawed into the comforter, you watched without shame, enchanted by the way his forearms flexed. Heels ground to the mattress, toes curled in sheets. Each motion was accompanied by either a sharp inhale or short exhale. Was it sadistic or considerate of you to keep pumping him despite that?

Levi loathed the way he stuttered through your name, on the other hand, you adored it. Levi cupped the back of your head in his hand and tugged your ear to his lips. His breath was hot on your cusp, yet somehow, it sent chills through you. Your sex had landed atop his lap, his cock nestled between your folds, still wet from his prior excursion. Pleasure had him growling, the look in his eyes both commanding and desperate, “Let me take you.”

Obliging and insisting: as one, you leaned back and he pressed forward. Your head landed atop the plump pillow, his hand beside it. Before you could blink, he had plummeted onto your lips again. This kiss was so opposite of all prior: his tongue demanding entrance, grazes of his teeth, and bites of your lip, loud and messy. You had cut Levi Ackerman to his last thread of composure, that was where you had always wanted him.

And this was how he had always wanted you: your most unabashed, honest, purest and filthiest self. He always found it so painfully obvious, how much you strained to stay prim and proper, polite and professional at work. It was why he lived for the times you slipped up: an eye roll in meetings, the long sigh after a conference call. Levi knew that the real you was there, and now you were here: in this shared bed with his shadow cast over your skin.

There was just one thing, though, that differed from his expectations. Desire was painted on each of your features, but they were glossed in nerves. Twitches in your lip, rattle in your lungs, eyes glistening, he feared they were tears. You cinched your hand around his wrist, and he recognized that smile. It was the kind you donned when you spilled your coffee or showed up late. Adorable, but unassured, and that would not do in this context.

“You’re nervous.” Levi did not ask you, for he knew his intuition was accurate. “Wanna stop?”

You shook your head and insisted vehemently, “No.” With a tilt of your chin and arch of your back, your lips brushed his with each word you spoke. Seeped down his throat, understanding swallowed: “I want to start.”

Levi returned your characteristic smile with one of his own. Tipping your foreheads together, “You’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

An order or a question? Either way, your heart scoffed at the idea. You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? There was no chance in hell you would change your mind.

“Or if it gets too much.”

That, there was a chance of. It had taken him mere minutes between your legs to bring you to the point of screaming and to the brink of climax, but that was what you wanted. His consideration fed you calm, you fed him reassurance. The flicker in your gaze settled, meeting his of solid steel. You tucked his bangs behind his ear and affirmed, “I’m ready, Levi.”

Fronts pressed, heartbeats matching, there was only one connection left to make. By the grips of his hands on the backs of your shoulders, Levi pulled himself those last crucial inches, and closed that final gap. His tip slick with precum, your slit dripping with anticipation, yet accommodating him was no easy fit. He had spent all that time down there with the goal of making it easy on you, but watching your face scrunch and hearing your voice whine was not half bad, either.

In fact, he had not even made it halfway in yet, and you were already writhing. Levi bit the inside of his cheek and knit his brows, careful not to push you too hard, conscious for signs of your apprehension. You sensed his wavering and clawed his back, pulling yourself further down his length.

Looking up, his expression was strained. Reaching new depths, pushing past your initial walls, his voice poured exertion. Still, he did not stop pushing. Toes arched into the mattress, calves flexed with each labored drive. Each fuck brought the two of you closer. For him, one more inch of his length. For you, one more stretch of pleasure. For the couple, a proximity you had always wanted. Each of you felt a tremendous responsibility to be the one to close that distance.

Repetition after repetition, his muted grunts melted to audible groans. The air between you was no longer saturated by your gasps alone, but his as well. His strain was the only thing that could ground you from nirvana and back down to earth. Despite his squint, he caught that transition: from the throes of sensation to the snap back to reality, all because you were concerned for his well-being. More than any sense of pleasure, your affection was what made his heart pound in his chest. Doe eyes gazed upon him, You okay?

After a series of hahs and ahs, Levi managed just a couple words, “It feels - It feels…”

Good? Bad? Your heart tensed in anticipation. Pleading and ordering, “Tell me, Levi.”

Knuckles tight, fingers trembling, “...good!” Levi clenched his teeth and pulled himself forward with an aim of backing his words with his actions. After struggling to past your entrance, the force of this fuck brought his tip to your end, drawing shrieks from you and shock from him. Strength of his magnitude had pros and cons, he supposed. His flaws, you deemed them his perfections.

The damp of your cunt was audible, resounding throughout the room. You found yourself at an impossible choice: which was more embarrassing, your voice or your sex? Levi’s thought was similar and opposite, the same choices, just which was better? Levi decided that their symphony was best, and realized he could turn up its volume if he accelerated his pace.

“Levi, Levi…!” To say his name came naturally, practically a swear word: the satisfaction of cursing after injury or mistake, so wrong yet so right to scream it out loud.

Pleasurable pain when he hit your weakest points, a delightful exercise as your walls stretched to accommodate him. His eyes remained set on your face, ears tuned to your voice, translating your body language into instructions. Rapid thrusts to make you pant, but only until you started to choke on your own gasps. Then, he would decelerate, replacing speed with strength. When he filled you up, you would sigh and roll your eyes back. To Levi, that was the sign to dial it back up and get you there.

Since this started, his read on you had been perfectly accurate. You were almost there. Simultaneously yet unknowingly, your inner voices warned: you won’t last much longer. The thing was, you didn’t want to, for you had endured so much already. The heat in your middle was unbearable now. Each nerve had been fried to its last end. This sex had gone on for hours, but your yearning had been years long. In your haze, you were blind towards any reason to deny yourself any longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and relied on your calves to pull him closer. Bringing him to your end made Levi approach his. “Fuck…!” His voice was a low singsong, an adult lullaby. “(Y/N), (Y/N)...!” No longer a choice between deep or fast, Levi somehow managed both. Physiology threatened to overrule now. No, already…!

“(Y/N), I…I’m - ! ” His mind was racing now. Should he ask to cum or tell you he was? Should he withdraw so that you could get there first? Levi labored to open his eyes, looking to you for an answer. His senses of sight and touch told him: you were already there.

The pulsation around his cock, the steep arch of your spine, your parted lips and blissed-out face. The scrape of your nails down his back, ignorant to the possibility of hurting him. This was how Levi had always wanted it: to be the one you clung to, to offer himself when you were overwhelmed. Count on me. The orgasm that overwhelmed you now, that had been his doing, right?

Once again, it was as if you had read his mind. Without him having to ask, you answered: “Levi, Levi!!” Your hands squeezed him tight, white patches beneath your fingertips. Clinging to him, the life raft through each of your waves. “Y’Yours… I’m yours…”

He had gifted you tissues for your crying spells at work, had picked up your lunch on the way back from break, but this provision was far preferable, much more fulfilling. Even as you turned his skin red, even as your legs clenched him and squeezed air from his lungs - no, even better - those were precisely the motions that pushed him over the edge.

One hand clutched the top of the headboard, tight enough that you heard the wood wince. The other caressed your face with feathered tenderness. In that difference, you were once again reminded of his duality: on one hand, a hardass, but for you, a soft spot. Those dimensions were reflected in his voice, too: swears that made your ears burn and groans that turned the air heavy, yet arid gasps that lifted your soul and praise fit for a princess. While your cunt had run raw and slippery from his fucking, his warm cum filled you and soothed your stings.

As you both came to, Levi lingered inside, patiently waiting until each of your waves crashed - savoring them. With a deep swallow and a delicate nod, he ensured he would handle your aftercare. Kleenex from the nightstand folded and padded against your sex. You sat up in panic, worried about the clean freak’s reaction, but he seemed particularly satisfied. Maybe it wasn’t that he hated filth, but that he loved clean-up. You bit your lip and bit back a smile, believing that the sex tonight had evidenced that.

Though his aftercare was doing much for your affection, it did pathetically little when it came to cleanliness. Both of you realized, not even the entire box would be enough. Levi looked at the wad of tissues in his hand, shook his head, and scowled, nearly laughing at the ineffectiveness. “We’re filthy.”

Slowly, you made your way to his side. Carefully, you reached your arms around his back. Wrapped within your grasp, you leaned him back against your chest and whispered into his ear, “Good thing there’s a shower.”

Levi spun just enough to meet your eye contact, once again checking to see if he had heard you right. Three hours ago, he would have defaulted towards the no, always having believed one could not be let down if they did not get their hopes up. Over the years and especially tonight, your optimism was swaying that opinion. Your sound smile and unafraid stare confirmed: after all that mess, you were also keen for cleanliness. In post-coital clarity, he saw how stupid he had been to wait this long, and Levi almost said those three sacred words right then and there.

But this was only the first night of the trip.

And the first day of the rest of your lives.

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #snk x you #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #oneshot #2023 #smut #salt and pepper

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lucyandalexiafan · 3 months

Text

blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

summary: since Alexia got injured two weeks ago, it's obviously that she needs to blow off steam; so, after the umpteenth attempt by her to have your attention, you ask her to take control, to completely dominate you.

Warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, kneel at Alexia's feet, Alexia' fingers that fuck reader's mouth while reader in kneeling in front of her, humping shoe, face slaps (three times), humiliations, degradations, use of pet names / slut, light jelaous!Alexia, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

words: 3131

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: English is not my first language and I’m not sure if it’s “blow off steam” or “blow of some steam”. I searched online but I didn’t understood, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong the way that I used

I turn off the TV interrupting the program that Ale is watching, the umpteenth trashy program.

Since she was injured two weeks ago, she has become unbearable.

She doesn't come to the field during training hours anymore, she doesn't go out, she doesn't cook, and she doesn't do anything other than be on the phone and watch stupid programs on any TV channel or streaming platform.

It doesn't bother me that she behaves like this or, at least, I understand her, I try to understand her; so I do everything for both of us without protesting, without emphasizing how to take care of the house, shopping all the different type of food required by our diets, cooking different dishes for me and her every lunch and dinner (due to the variation of her diet), do not combine well with the study for my master's degree, with the research I am doing, and with my training with the team.

I don't protest, I don't snort, I don't say anything.

I accept any comment about how overcooked the chicken is, about the fact that the bread had to be soft wheat and not whole wheat, about how messy the kitchen is.

I didn't even comment on the fact that she delegated the care of her dog to me alone, even though she can walk.

I accepted to study all night and write those essays at unreasonable hours, risking not completing my homework or showing up not prepared enough for meetings with university tutors, as well as showing up for training tired, exhausted and with less and less energy.

But today... today it's too much.

I had started studying in the kitchen, on the counter, because I had started cooking dinner and lunch for tomorrow; Ale was watching television. She knows, she knows, how much I hate having too much noise around, how much the overstimulation is a problem for me because of my ADHD, how much I go into crisis when there is too much chaos around me, no longer being able to concentrate and control myself, always ending up looking around, trying to figure out where all the voices are coming from and, when there are too many, ending up on the verge of tears.

She knows it.

But, despite this, she had started using TikTok at maximum volume at the same time as the television, creating an annoying chaos that could not even be masked by the music that passed through my headphones.

I had asked her to turn down the volume several times, I had even texted her asking her to stop because I had to study, telling her that it was important that I end that essay within three days, before the last game before the Christmas holidays.

After half an hour of trying I couldn't take it anymore, I got up, took the remote control and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" she asks irritated.

The sharp voice.

I bite my lip.

We haven't had sex in two weeks and I haven't had an orgasm for three, and seeing her so angry floods my belly with sharps of pleasure.

Ever since we had started experimenting with sex, since Ale had started to be dominant in bed and I had started to feel free enough and trust her enough to be completely submissive, we had established 'rules'; one of the ones we started experimenting with first was about orgasms.

No orgasms that aren't given by her or that she doesn't allow me to have.

It had not only increased libido and feeling in bed, but also communication. Since we had established this rule, we had begun to talk much more about sex, to describe how we felt and to provoke ourselves; I had begun to no longer feel embarrassed to express my sex urge or tell her what I needed.

Begging her for what I needed.

So, after exactly three weeks since my last orgasm, I'm extremely needy.

Ale, at the same time, is extremely angry, disappointed, and resentful, about the injury and I know, I'm sure, that she would like to blow off steam on me, on my body, but she is afraid to ask for it, to do it. She's afraid because she's never done it before, because she's always afraid of hurting me and because she knows what I've been through in the past.

So now, because she doesn't want to express this need, she is short-tempered, rude, arrogant.

I kneel on the ground, in front of her, my legs slightly apart.

I look into her eyes.

She swallows the saliva, the phone still in her hand, as she jams her eyes into mine.

"I would like you to take control – I say, my voice trembling with embarrassment – I need you to blow off steam on me and I need to be dominated, to let you be in control"

I bite my lip.

The fear that he will refuse, that she will say no, that she will think I am crazy, increases when she does not respond immediately.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little girl"

The low voice, the seraphic tone.

"I want you to take control Reina, I want you to punish me, I want you to use my body"

She lay her phone on the couch.

"You don't have to do it for me, i-"

"I want it, Ale, I need it as much as you do" I whisper, pleading, looking into her eyes.

Nails playing with a little skin on my index finger.

She nods.

"Are there any things you don't want me to use or do?" the tone is the one she uses on the field when she's the team captain.

That confident tone, which admits no reply.

"No, Reina"

I touch her right calf with one hand, the need for physical contact advancing in me; I play with her skin, just massage her.

She grins, looking at me.

She looks at me, her face slightly tilted.

She bites her lip, as if pondering my request.

"Now I'm going to make you a list of items or practices and you have to tell me with safewords which ones are green, which ones are yellow, and which ones are red, okay? – I nod – What are your safewords?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop"

"Good girl - I twitch my thighs, a knot in my belly, as her hand brushes my cheek, a satisfied look as she looks down on me – then let's get started"

After a few minutes, I had established green orgasm denial, spanking with hands and belt, the use of the collar with the leash, the use of ropes or more generally in bondage, penetrative sex with both fingers and dildos, the use of plugs and strap-ons, degradation; yellow overstimulation and preventing me from speaking by putting objects in my mouth; red blindfold. However, I asked her if she could use pet names from time to time to reassure me, so the degradation and humiliation were not the only channels of communication during a scene we were experiencing for the first time.

I clasp my hands on my thighs, my belly invaded by contractions of pleasure.

"Have you had any orgasms since the last time I got you one?" the tone is so low that it gives me goosebumps.

"No, Reina" I hurry to answer; a marked blush colors my cheeks and neck because no matter how much we talked about sex, how much we started experimenting in bed more than a year ago, I will never stop being embarrassed when we talk about these things.

She grinns with satisfaction.

"Something as needy as you hasn't had an orgasm in three weeks, hm? – she asks as she strokes my cheek with her thumb, a fake smile of pity adorns her face – Does your need to be a good girl, to please me, also beat your need of an orgasm?"

I look down immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

How can she make me so submissive, so needy, with just one question?

The panties are soaked, I feel them being uncomfortably attached to my intimacy.

"Yes, Reina, I just want to please you"

She moans openly at my answer and I see the muscles in her legs twitch.

I close my eyes to the sound.

"I don't think I told you that you can not look me in the eye"

I look at her, eyes slightly wider, position more rigid as I try to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry Reina," I whisper guiltily.

We haven't even started and I'm already breaking the rules?

She looks at me for a moment and then her gaze, that sadistic, excited look, softens; a sweet, loving smile replaces the grin that had begun to adorn her face since she began to list what she could and couldn't do tonight.

"Amor, this is the last chance I'll give you to stop everything before we start, before I start punishing you and then take you to the bedroom, where only the safewords will make me stop – the suddenly cautious, sweet tone, like it's never been in the last two weeks – I'm not going to get angry, resentful or irritated if you tell me you don't want to go on anymore or that you're not sure anymore, baby, but I want you to tell me before you start because I don't want to start without being sure that you want it as much as I do; we will cuddle and maybe watching a film, order some takeaway food"

Her hand on my cheek, the back of my index and middle fingers caressing my skin.

I look at her, every fear gone, every tension leaves my body.

She is always her, the sweet, caring, loving girlfriend who would never hurt me or continue something I don't want.

No matter how much she needs to blow off steam, she would never hurt me.

I shake my head.

"I... I want to do it Reina, but-but only if you want it completely too" I answer, my voice trembling with embarrassment, but my gaze fixed on hers.

She smiles.

Her beautiful smile.

"I love it when you call me Reina, I'll never stop saying it" she whispers as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, as she frees it from the grip of my teeth.

I open my lips allowing her to stick it past my teeth, into my mouth; she pushes it all in, until she hits my chin with her palm. I lick it slowly as I look straight into her eyes.

After a while she replaces it with her index and middle fingers, pushing them into my mouth slowly, and then she starts to move them, as if to fuck my mouth.

I go along with it, licking her fingers, opening and closing my lips against her skin.

She groans looking at me.

"So submissive, at my feet, while you call me Reina – she pushes her fingers harder into my mouth, until she touches my chin with her palm again, and touching the back of my throat, gagging me – My dirty filthy slut"

I gasp.

I place my hands on her knees, as if looking for a support to hold on to while she fucks my mouth with her fingers.

She sneers.

I look at her from below, her lips slightly open twisted into a grin, her eyes veiled by sadism, her cheeks flushed, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips, her brow furrowed, the hair of her forelock escaping the grip behind her ears.

"Hands behind your back, I don't think I told you you can touch me"

I groan in surprise as I hurry to do what she says, squeezing one hand into the other until my nails are in my palm.

The tips of her fingers touch the back of my throat with each thrust, and with every moan I make, she grins; She tells me to breathe through the nose when she realizes that, due to gagging, I struggle to breathe through my mouth.

She continues like this for some time that seems like minutes, she fucks my mouth with her fingers, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my mouth, a sadistic grin, until she takes them off completely.

I moan, finally free to breathe through my mouth.

She wipes the fingers against my cheeks, the back on one cheek, the inside on the other; the trickle of saliva that still connects them to my lips.

She puts her hand on my right cheek and I know what's going to happen.

"Disobedient little girl – the first slap is light against my skin, more for the scene than for anything else – Twice you disobey my orders and I didn't even touch you"

I gasp looking at her, her lips still slightly parted.

Then, as she walked away, her hand hits my cheek.

We both moan at the same time, her greasing and lowest, mine louder.

No matter how much I expected it, it's getting more and more exciting every time.

"Color, little girl?" she asks, an attentive look on my face trying to understand what I think about the slap.

"Green... green Reina" I moan.

"Dirty little," she whispers as she caresses my face, "So needy just because I fucked your mouth, hm?" she asks, as she runs her fingers over my lips, but without pushing them any further.

"Yes-yes Reina," I say cautiously in response.

Then, suddenly, she moves one leg between mine until I feel her foot, covered by her favorite and most expensive pair of shoes, in contact with my intimacy.

"Hump my shoe, slut"

It's an order said as she leans back on the couch. She opens her arms, resting them on the headboard of the sofa.

I wade at her, my eyes wide open with the request, but my pupils probably dilated with excitement. I'm incredulous.

"Color, little girl?" she asks when, after a few seconds, I don't move, her voice warm, lovely.

"G-green Reina – I whisper hesitantly, realizing the time that has passed, realizing that by doing so I was disobeying – I'm sorry"

She moves her torso toward me, her hand grabbing a hand of my hair. "Do you want to add a third punishment to the two you've already earned, hm? – I answer with a faint no, Reina – Then, move" she continues, her tone suddenly more authoritative and dominant, no longer disguised as feigned pity, her back coming back into contact with the sofa.

I bite my lip and moan when I feel her shoe move slightly against my clit.

"C-can I put my hands on your leg Reina?" I ask, my voice faint, the need to touch her, for physical contact.

"Aw, little girl, can't you even keep your balance? Okay, grab my leg. You can lean against it however you want," the mocking tone.

My hands grab her calf.

My torso is against her shin as I slowly begin to move.

I'm wearing thin shorts and panties made of almost non-existent fabric, so with every movement I feel the relief of the shoelaces against my clit.

I moan, I whine, unashamed.

I squeeze her leg as I rest my head on the lower part of her inner thigh, just above the knee, breaking eye contact.

As soon as the tip of her shoe starts to move against me, putting pressure on my hole, I start moving faster and faster; I'm not sensual, I'm not pretty bent over her, my back arched out, my head down.

"Dirty little slut," she says while her hand scratches my scalp "How does it feel to hump against a so expensive shoe that I've been looking for months in any shop in Barcelona, to be so slutty that you seek satisfaction and pleasure by rubbing yourself on a shoe without shame?"

I whine in humiliation.

"Please Reina, can I... can I-"

Her hand clenches in my hair, forcing me to look at her.

"Don't even try. This is just the beginning – she hits my cheek again – Did you think it would be so easy after disobeying me?"

I bite my lip, looking at her with the most puppy look I'm capable of; my vision slightly clouded by excitement and tears.

I open my mouth a couple of times, attempting to speak, but no sound other than a moan comes out.

When she notices that I am not responding, she stops moving her foot. "Color?"

"Green" I answer immediately, as I continue to move on her shoe, hoping that she will move again.

The shoelaces against my clit.

The contractions of pleasure in the lower abdomen.

She grinns as she looks at me.

She reaches down to kiss me, her hand still in my hair.

Then, as it all began, she moves the shoe away from my intimacy.

"How do you feel, hm? What would people say if they could see you like this, at my feet, desperate after humped my shoe like a slut, hmm? What would our teammates say if they saw you like that? – she grins, the hand that makes pat pat on my head – How do you think Aitana and Ona would react, mh?"

I close my eyes.

"None of them will be able to make you feel like that, reduce you like that, like I do. Not even Lucia. It doesn't matter how hard they try"

"Please, please," I whisper as I tighten my fingers around her knee.

The humiliation becomes pleasure, contractions of pleasure stronger and stronger, when she starts talking about the team, about my friends, about Lucy.

Of her jealousy of Lucy, caused by the fact that we are so close friends and that she is also dominant in bed; the eldest is openly dominant in bed, while Ale is much more modest in making her sexual performances public to the team. Modesty for which I am grateful, but which makes her feel clearly in competition with the English player.

"Please what, little one?"

Cheeks that burn when I hear the pet name.

Her fingers forcing my chin to look at her.

Her blonde hair is tousled.

"Touch me, please Reina... I-I need to-"

Humiliation breaks through my legs, which I immediately clench.

To be at her feet, to call her Reina, to be so desperate.

"I just want you, Reina... I... on-only you. No one else," she moans, "I beg you."

"Get up, go to our room and strip. I want you on the bed, on hands and knees. In less than ten minutes I'll be there."

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfics #dom!alexia #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #jelaous alexia putellas #shoe humping

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 9 months

Text

You came — you called. II (+18) | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

✦ PART I ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After having a little non-friendly chat with your abuser, Simon comes back home to find you asleep in his bed. ✦ TW and general warnings: +18 NSFW, SMUT, lots of porn, p in v unprotected, some dirty talk, size difference implications, he's got a big cock, fluff, open ending sorta ✦ AO3 | Masterlist

A/N: well, since you guys liked part I and I was so fucking inspired I decided to write part 2; honestly thinking of writing a part III I seriously need to stop 😭 I hope you guys enjoy it! x

taglist: @abbiesxox

2am - world was on fire and no one could save me but you

“Y’know,” Simon starts, his legs spread across the armchair. His chin rests on his hand, nothing on his face but an indifference fashion, almost like the blood dripping from that guy’s mouth was another Tuesday to him. “You’re quite lucky, mate.” He stretches and leans his body forward. His elbows rest on his knees and he bends low enough to stare eye to eye into the face of the man who dared laying hands on you. “Know why?”

Your abuser flinches, and doesn’t answer; he couldn’t even if he wanted to.

His body doesn't move more than inches without feeling pain. He had lost count of how many kicks it took Simon to take him to that state - when you said your ex boyfriend was in the military, he didn't imagine that kind of military. There wasn't even a report he could possibly make. It didn't have a face, it didn't have a name - all he knew was that this man, your punisher in the skull mask, coded himself as Ghost.

And he knew that this man - this living ghost, this new alive fear of his, had made him spit blood for every slap, every squeeze, every bruise he left on your body. It would be too much for your tired, melancholic head to notice that whenever he contoured one in your back as he gave you a bath, he was counting. To each one, he’d punch him twice. Face, legs, stomach. He wanted to see blood.

“No?” He asked, licking his lips. “You fuckin’ pussy…” He scoffs, his voice ever so low, almost a whisper - almost like he could wake you up in his house, from this distance, by talking loud. “Because if it wasn’t for my girl, you’d be dead now.”

To your abuser’s silence, Ghost stands up and steps off avoiding the bleeding fucker in front of him. “And let it be known, I am not one to make noise. If you come after her again, you won’t know where the shot came from.” He states over his shoulder, before opening the door and leaving it open for the ambulance that’s yet to come - because, especially after you, he’s not a monster. Just a ghost.

4am - strange what desire will make foolish people do

The shower is on. You don’t hear it, blame it on your tough sleep; can barely hear your own alarms when it’s morning.

It is almost morning. In a few hours, the sun will rise in the horizon of the simple window by Simon’s bed side and invade the room - equally humble - annoying you. Right now, although the sky is still dark blue, the only light source poorly illuminating the room is the dim, yellow light that comes from the bathroom while Simon finishes his much deserved bath.

The bloodstained hoodie and his mask are thrown aside in the laundry basket and now quietly replaced for a pair of sweatpants - his pajamas. He walks towards you in mute steps, the mattress sinking from the pressure of his two hands against it, on either side of your waist. You feel the warmth of his freshly bathed body against your skin as he shelters you from the night cold breeze with his own body. It covers you entirely, and you mumble in your sleep, “Mmm, Simon.”.

“Hm…” His raspy voice asks, against your ear; your body, still drunk in sleep, shivers at the contact. You move slightly, while his nose brushes against your cheek, and continues down to your neck. Simon takes your smell in like a drug, shit, how painfully hard he misses you.

“You’re back…? Hm- what time is it?” You ask in a drunken voice.

His hand caresses your bare thigh under your shirt, his thick palm scraping up your skin till he reaches your belly; it covers, almost entirely. You mewl, “Simon…”

“Late.” He replies simply, warmly, against your ear. His dog tag swings in the short space between the two of you, and brushes against your chest. You turn a little, now awake enough to be able to speak at least, and your eyes meet his staring at you, drinking in the details as if all that time away from you has made him forget how beautiful you look when you just woke up.

“You smell good.” You admit in a mutter, feeling his hand sliding up from your belly to your waist in explicit desire. Though the two of you reluctantly tried to withdraw from each other, you couldn't deny it - it was mutual. “Are you calm now?” You ask, your hand takes hold of his dog tag and your index finger wraps around the chain; slowly, you wrap yourself around his neck, and before he can answer you, your lips take his in a quick kiss.

“No…” He replies against your mouth, in a breath. The sound of fabric moving fills the room as he repositions himself over you, and his hand moves up, tracing your curves to the top of your breast and cupping it; “Needin’ you right now.” He whispers in between slow, passionate kisses you both share.

Your leg curls around his waist as you kiss him desperately, like he could vanish from

your hands any second. “Ask me.” you whisper against his lips and your hand grasps his dirty blond strands as his hand tightens around your breast. “I like it when you ask…”

He closes his eyes feeling a chill rise in his belly hearing you moan, and smirks in both pleasure and pride knowing he was the one to cause it.

“Can I fuck you?” He complies, pushing his hips against you almost unconsciously, and you feel your body burn, feeling the big bulge in his pants press into your core through the fabrics that separate the two of you.

In one deft movement, Simon lifts your shirt up to your face level and you obediently offer to hold it between your teeth as his mouth proceeds to feast on one of your breasts while his hand massages the other.

“Simon- ah…” You groan, as your body uncontrollably squirms a bit and your lower half pushes up against him, begging him for some more.

Your body relaxes as your soft spots tighten, and after minutes of satisfying your needy breasts, sharing his tongue's attention between the two of them, Simon finally starts to run his wet kisses down your belly - calm as a sea breeze, hot as hellfire, different than it usually is when the two of you meet on an empty night, still enraged by the last time you left each other, fueled by hate, no - this time it's something different.

“I still think about you everytime, y’know, kitten?” He admits with a faint smirk as his hands pull your panties down your legs and quickly get rid of them, exposing now your needy and soggy core to his own view. “Nobody tastes sweet like you.”

His hand cups your ankle and he spreads your legs; his other hand cups your pussy, his fingers parting your folds as his middle finger rubs you slowly, torturously in that sweet spot of pleasure.

“S-Shut up…” You try to say, but your voice is caught in your throat by a sudden moan as his tongue takes place between your legs. In circular, slow and skillful movements, he sucks on your swollen clit - whatever you wanted to say is now replaced by heavy gasps and low, muffled moans as you bite down on your hand trying to hold it back. He disapproves, almost instantly, with a tight squeeze on your thigh and you can’t hold back a loud groan in response.

When he feels you're getting too close to your climax, Simon swaps the intense, slow strokes for even slower ones, his tongue barely touching your clit yet - that tiny tip of contact causing all you get is the intense desire and the twitching of your legs in a near-orgasm that's thwarted so many times, it gets you insane.

“Simon, p-please for fuck sakes…” You cry, your eyebrows furrowed in lust. His cock almost pierces the sweatshirt at this point, his veins visible on every possible part of his body - his arms, his temples, his crotch that shows when he straightens up over you as his pants lower to his waist, with that small clump of hair showing. “Don’t fucking make me beg…” You curse once again.

His tattooed arm grabs your waist and moves you over him; his hand grips your ass and moves you against his lap, your hands look for support around his shoulders and your hips instinctively continue the movements he started.

“Take it, c’mon.” He teases you. “It’s fuckin’ ripping my pants already, baby.” He grunts in your ear, his breath gets heavier when he pulls down his pants only enough so he can pull off his rock-hard large twitching cock; he stares into your face as his hips press forward, running his length against your slit, slowly.

“Ah, fuck.” You curse under your breath as you lift your hips until his tip is against your entrance, and slowly start lowering yourself. Simon holds back a growl as your tight walls begin to swallow his cock, inch by inch, slowly. It's almost too much for you, like you lost practice by fucking guys that were smaller than him; it’s not a hard deal - he’s really too big. His fingers dig onto the skin of your waist trying to restrain himself as he holds you steady and gives you some time to get used to his length filling your whole cunt.

His low groans flood your ears as after a few painful seconds, you begin to move up and down, slowly at first but quickly getting faster, deeper - the excruciating pain of feeling him stretching you up entirely as if it was your first time again, gives in to the deep pleasure of having him hitting your spot each time you thrust against him.

Simon is a groaning, gasping mess beneath you; his hips move uncontrollably against yours, he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it back exposing your cleavage to him, so he can suckle onto your soft skin - leaving marks all over you.

“Mine, aren’t you.” He groans while fucking you hard, kissing all over you like a dog who crawls back to its owner. “You feel so fuckin’ good- ah-” he takes you in a sloppy kiss, your hands digging his back in raw flesh;

“Y-Yours.” You reply in a gasping voice, almost out of air yourself.

Without much time to tell beforehand, your eyes roll up and his movements grow faster. You grab his shoulders, feeling your own climax start to flood through your body intensely, your legs tighten and your walls tighten against him; your clit throbs, and you grunt.

“Simon- I love you-” You moan, and your inability to keep moving now, with all your muscles suddenly relaxed and your cunt painfully overstimulated by his continuing thrusts, causes him to grab your waist from both sides and lift you without further difficulty - like you’re lightweight. He fucks you through your orgasm with his thrusts getting stronger - feral, animalistic, as his stomach tightens and his muscles jump even more defined than they already are, a few beads of sweat trickle down his chest as he grunts in pleasure.

Simon pulls out the instant he feels that crossing of lines where his consciousness loses itself to pleasure and surrenders completely to you - fast enough to spend himself on your thighs, partially, in a mess of grunts and gasps.

Your body collapses onto his and he holds you, both of you still trying to recover from so much intensity in so little time. Little by little, he regains consciousness as he smells your hair against his nostrils; vanilla ice cream. And then, the feeling of your body against his, your thin arms seeking support around his neck - your voice, saying you love him.

Minutes later, after taking care of your needs - water, a hot shower, another clean pair of clothes, you finally find yourself snuggled in his arms. Simon’s eyes are fixed on your face, and he looks tired, but not willing to fall asleep anytime soon.

The tip of his finger caresses your arm, and the morning sun starts to come through the window.

“Do you think we’ll ever work together?” You break silence, gazing through his eyes with uncontrollable love. He sighs tired, and after a couple seconds, replies.

“I’ll break your heart once or twice; you’ll break mine. Isn't that how every relationship is supposed to work?”

“Yes, but if so, why didn’t it work before then?” You close your eyes. He caresses your scalp, your beautiful hair, and closes his eyes as well.

“You look beautiful in the morning.” He mutters. “Not only in the morning, of course.”

“Simon…”

“Come back to me.” He asks, and it sounds like begging. Like crawling.

You open your eyes, but his are still closed. You smile.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod fic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #cod mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader

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cottonconnielvr · 10 months

Note

can you write plug!connie but he yo baby daddy, love your work btw <3

WARNINGS ✩ — mom!reader(i got insane baby fever n i wanna be a stay at home mom so bad 😔), fluff, nothing honestlyyy

YOU woke up to the blaring sun in your face, causing you to scrunch your eyes up. It was 8:45 am. The usual time you wake up on the weekends. Yes the weekends. Being a stay at home mom, you were always up on your feet. Taking care of things at home while Connie took care of everything else.

Your body was locked in place from moving. Your daughter, Celeste, was wrapped around you from the back, squished between Connie who was facing you, his long arm wrapped around you both. You shook your head, assuming Celeste climbed in the bed in the middle of the night like she always does.

You slowly pried their arms off of you, leaving them quietly sleeping in bed. You headed to the bathroom, getting yourself ready for the day.

After a steamy shower and you’re 5-step skincare routine, you went to go make breakfast, deciding to make a standard breakfast.

Meanwhile, an hour and a half later, Celeste walked down the stairs, her teddy bear locked in her arms. The sound of Destiny’s Child filled her ears as she approached the kitchen island, struggling to lift her five year old body onto the chair.

“Morning mama, want some fruit?” Your daughter immediately smiled at the kiss pressed onto her forehead.

Celeste loves both of her parents, of course. Even as a five year old she knows all the stress you endure. But she’s never seen you cry, well she’s seen you cry over heels but that’s besides the point. She’s never seen either of her parents give up or argue. Even if she saw you upset at her dad, you always resolved the issue.You and Connie set your daughters standards very high.

“Yes pleaseee” She flashes a smile, very similar to Connie’s.

After preparing breakfast, you finally prepared the plates. “Mommy can I give daddy breakfast” Celeste speaks from across the island, now standing. But you can only see her puff of hair as it shows over the island.

You nod, grabbing a tray from the pantry and putting Connie’s plate on it. “Be careful” You warned, handing her the tray.

“Of courseeee” She dragged out. Man was she obsessed with that word.

Celeste carefully walked up the stairs, walking very slowly and steadily. She made sure his fruit wasn’t touching his bacon and his bacon didn’t touch the whipped cream on his waffles, just how he likes it.

“Daddyyy it’s morning time” She sung out as she stood next to the bed. Connie stirred in the bed, feeling it empty.

He looked over to his daughter, seeing her hold a tray with food and a huge smile on her face. Always smiling.. “Thank you babygirl” He grabbed the tray from her, immediately digging in. “Where’s your mom?” Connie asked Celeste as she climbed into bed beside him, stealing a piece of bacon from Connie’s plate , earning a side eye.

“She’s probably in the garden now but like um..um..are we still going to the mall today?” She took her time, smacking her teeth multiple times.

Connie shook his head at the little girl, “You are just like your mom mhm”

“DONT step on my shoes. My dad bought them and they’re custom made.” Celeste sassily crossed her arms over her chest, yelling at her distant “cousins”.

You and Connie decided to stop by the cookout Ony was throwing, Connie doing a couple of drops as well. There were kids there so nothing crazy would happen, Connie trusted his best guys with his two favorite girls so he felt okay with leaving.

“Oh yeah? My dad is like the biggest strongiest coolest ever!” One of the kids of a family friend argued. “Strongiest isn’t even a word” Celeste rolled her eyes. “That’s why my dad gave me this!” Celeste pulled out an one hundred dollar bill out of her pocket, causing the kids the gasp.

“Woah she’s like rich” One boy said from his spot on the floor. Celeste smiled, stuffing it back into her pocket. “Yeah so don’t act like I don’t have motion!” Celeste copied the word that she always heard her dad say around her.

Truth be told, Celeste was a bit….egotistical. I mean come on Connie Springer is her father. To her parents she’s an angel but once she’s around kids her age, she’s talking about how big the Eiffel tower really is and how clear the water is in Fiji.

She’s a spoiled brat, just like you, in every single way.

After playing for hours, Celeste dramatically laid across your lap. “When is dad coming back” Just then she jumped up, seeing the sight of her father.

“Hi daddy!” He lifted her up into the air before just holding her on the side of his waist. “Hey princess, you have fun?” She hummed, nodding her head before he placed her down.

“Hi A-armin” Celeste waved while looking up, her face growing hot. Armin was Celeste’s first crush. “Hey little one” Armin smiled down at the child, patting her head before handing her a $5 bill. “I hear the ice cream truck, why don’t you get yourself something”

Celeste couldn’t stop her smile, her kiddy crush feeling much more like true love. She ignored her fathers scowl and hugged the blonde’s legs before running off to the front yard with Onyankopon and a group of kids.

“Calm down boy, it’s just a silly little crush” You walked over to Connie, handing him your cup to sip out of. Your hand went around his waist, pulling him into a side hug.

“She’s only five. She doesn’t need any crushes, especially on Armin” Armin jerks his head back at the emphasis on his name.

“Acting like i’m ugly or something” He shook his head before greeting some other people. “Y’know she thinks he looks like a disney prince or something. Anyways how was your run?” You walk infront of Connie, grabbing his hand. He trailed behind you with the cup still in his hand. His eyes were glued to your butt in the skin tight sundress. “Hm baby?” You ask completely unaware. The weather was breezy and dawn had settled in, painting the sky purple and blue.

“Y’know I still want a son as well?” Connie completely ignored your question, his front pressing up against your back as his hand trailed down to your butt, lightly squeezing.

You jumped, gasping out “Connie there are innocent children here!”

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clovestreet · 1 year

Text

let me- ethan landry

an: i am absolutely FERAL for this man atm...😨i just had to write something abt him..

summary: you have been super stressed about exams lately and ethan knows the best way to make you feel better. (also this is DEFINITELY more soft ethan??) but i like that.. lol

warnings⚠ SMUT (16+), oral (f receiving), strong language

Hell on earth was organic chemistry.

Your absolute fucktard of a professor had scheduled your exam on the same day as two of your other exams. This man had it out for you.

You massaged your temple as you drummed your pencil on your notes. Your brain wasn't functioning anymore. You had been sitting at this godforsaken desk for three hours now. You needed a break.

You forced yourself out of your chair and faceplanted on your bed next to your boyfriend in defeat. You sighed into the mattress and tried to gather your thoughts.

"Something bothering you baby?" your boyfriend laughed as he rubbed small circles into your back, clearly amused by your frustration with trying to memorize aromatic compounds.

"I can't do this anymore E, "I'm actually so exhausted."

"I wish someone would just kill the stupid bastard." you groaned into your palms.

Ethan gulped and immediately froze in his movements and you weren't sure why. But then he was comforting you again like nothing had happened.

"I'm sorry baby. If it makes you feel better, I just failed my last exam."

You laughed as he pulled you closer, the grasp of his arms melting away your stress.

"Honestly, I don't know if anything could make me feel better at this point.”

“Unless you can teach me the structure of carboxylic acid." you said with your hands on his chest staring into his dark eyes.

His chest shook with laughter and it was music to your ears. Ethan was so comforting and even being in his arms took you to a place far away from your worries.

"Definitely can't do that, but I think I can take your mind off it for a little while." he murmured into your lips.

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Well it usually starts with my head between your legs” he says in a low whisper.

You immediately feel your cheeks flush with warmth and squeeze your legs together.

You completely froze and waited for him to finish his sentence.

“ ..And ends with you screaming my name or something like that." he says with a devilish smirk.

He grins like a lovesick bastard at your embarrassment and tilts his head down to connect his lips to yours. He smiles into the kiss and you can feel your pulse weakening at the way his tongue explores your mouth.

His lips travel down your neck and you know exactly where he's going. You pull him off of you and look him in straight in his hazy brown eyes.

You and Ethan had been together for a little over a year now and you had been intimate more times than you could even begin to remember. You still got nervous before he went down on you and you just couldn't help but feel insecure sometimes, but Ethan always made you forget about all of it when he touched you.

"E, are you sure? You really don’t have to, I-”

He immediately stops you with a confused expression on his face.

“Baby are you kidding? I live for this shit.”

“I should probably get back to studying E, I just-"

He cut you off again, this time taking your head into his hand and made sure you met his gaze.

"Fuck studying. Let me make you feel good babe."

His thumb gently brushed over your cheek as he searched your eyes for an answer.

"Ok, fine." you said softly with a shy smile on your face.

"That's my girl." he said with a grin spreading over his face as he placed the softest kiss on your lips.

His fingers danced their way over your ribs under your shirt and his lips were placing gentle kisses on your hipbones. His fingers made their way down to the waistband of your shorts and his eyes quickly glanced up to yours asking for consent. You quickly nodded your head, becoming more and more eager for him to touch you by the second.

He pulled down your shorts gently and tossed them behind him. He hooked his fingers under your lace panties and pulled them down painfully slow. Once they were off, he grabbed both of your legs and put them over his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around your legs and pulled them open.

He looked up at you through lustful eyes while licking his lips.

"I got you. Always." he said in a low whisper placing a kiss on your inner thigh.

You brushed a gentle hand over his curls and offered a weak smile to him. You could feel your anticipation for his touch becoming stronger and your legs were shaking before he even touched you.

You could feel his breath on you and you couldn't take it anymore. You wrapped your fingers in his curls and guided him onto you.

He licked up your slit as you sucked in a shaky breath. Your thighs immediately clenched around him, but his strong hands pulled your legs right back open. His tongue started to circle around your clit and your fingers were already tugging on his curls. He groaned into you and the vibration had you letting out a choked moan.

"Right there E." you gasped.

He looked up at your face contorted in pleasure and started to grind his hips onto to the bed. Ethan was the kind of boyfriend who genuinely could get off from pleasuring you and have absolutely no shame about it.

He was lost in the taste of you and you were lost in his touch. You couldn't even remember what you were stressed about in the first place. Your mind was consumed by the feeling of his tongue sloppily tasting you and swirling around your clit, the tight grip of his fingers prying open your thighs, his dark eyes peering up at you through hooded lids occasionally rolling back into his head every time you moaned his name.

His hand slid carefully down your thigh as he slipped his middle finger into you, pumping in and out at a deliciously slow pace.

Your fingers tugged harder on his curls and he practically moaned into you.

"F-feels so good E, you're so good" you whined.

"I know baby I know, I'm gonna get you there I promise." he murmured into you, pressing wet kisses on your clit.

His words made you toss your head back and your back arch off the bed.

He slipped another finger into you, pumping a little faster this time.

Your fingers loosened from Ethan's hair and slid down his bare shoulders. His fingers started to curl inside you, purposefully hitting the spot he knew would send you over the edge. You moaned loudly and your nails dug into his back.

He groaned into you so loudly it almost caught you off guard. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought you hurt him. But you knew better by now. His sounds sent you even closer to the edge.

"Come on babe, let go for me." he breathed into you.

You could feel yourself impossibly close to your high with Ethan's gaze trained on your face. The second Ethan's nose rubbed your clit you were done for.

All you could do was moan his name over and over again, your nails digging into his back sure to leave marks. He fucked you all the way through your high until you were practically dragging him off of you.

You put your hand on the back of his neck and guided him toward your lips. God, he was so beautiful, even with the taste of you glimmering all over his features. You pulled him down into a breathless kiss and brought him closer by draping your leg over his waist.

He drew back and cupped your jaw looking down at you.

"I really hope you're not thinking about studying anymore tonight, because all I want to do-"

"Shut up and kiss me Landry."

#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream 6 smut

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httpsserene · 5 months

Note

Heyy, i was wondering if you could do an Toto wolff x reader. I was thinking kitchen sex?? Like Toto getting turned on because he found out that reader was trying to make him his beloved pumpernickel bread for breakfast. I’ve been seeing tiktoks of Toto and his love for pumpernickel bread, and was just wondering if you could write abt it, though it’s TOTALLY ok if you don’t. Sorry if this was a little messy, this is my first time rqsting something. ♥️

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐰/𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you make toto his favorite bread. he’s going to thank you for this surprise properly. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. implied age gap. kitchen sex. rambling about bread. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. morning sex. reader and toto are married. beta-read. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.2k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: toto wolff x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: can't take my eyes off of you (i love you baby) • lauryn hill

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: can you tell i did way to much research on the types of pumpernickel bread? no, well, i don’t care 🙂 i WAS NOT familiar with toto wolff and pumpernickel bread so a quick youtube search opened my eyes to it and uh what can i say, this was born. ALSO: i feel like i’ve self-diagnosed myself; i am ashamed to admit that my kink might be somebody making me their wife…because why can’t i go one fic without making the reader be referenced to as a wife (m sorry i crave love). i honestly feel like it could be better, but y’know i hope i did your request justice (sorry it took me so long, ktober beat my ass). anon! i hope you see this, and i hope all the toto wolff lovers enjoy !!!

the yellow dish gloves on your hands protect your brown skin from most of the heat of the scalding tap water. the sound of your hums airily reverberate within the high ceilings of your open-plan kitchen as you clean the expensive dishes you’ve dirtied. you’ve taken off your wedding ring and placed it on top of your phone in the middle of the island to avoid any possibility of it falling down the drain or getting damaged.

you woke up a little after dawn, quickly shutting off your alarm to avoid waking up your husband; it’s the off season for him, you won’t wake him up at insane hours when he’s not needed to work. sneaking out of bed was a battle of its own—there were several close calls as you struggled to slip out of the tight hold of the austrian man. it took seven minutes for you to escape his warm embrace, but you made it through by thinking of the surprise you were going to cook up for Toto—or bake up for him. it’s no secret to anybody that the mercedes team principal loves pumpernickel bread, and that he’s very particular about how he likes it. of course, there’s no way you would be able to make the traditional german pumpernickel bread before he woke up—it takes fourteen hours to cook and it needs to rest for an entire day to allow it to form properly into its crunchy, cookie-like consistency. so, you decided to make the simplified recipe that only takes roughly an hour and a half to bake and prepare, while the original takes its time cooking. your husband will have to be happy with the more loaf-like treat until his preferred bread is ready. you’ve never been more thankful to have two ovens.

everything went well. both breads are prepped and baking away at their respective temperatures, and you’re carefully attempting to clean up the mess you’ve made in the process. you may not have been quiet enough based on the footsteps you hear heading your way. Toto pauses in the doorway and you smile, not needing to turn around to see the baffled expression on his face. you turn the faucet off and grab the cloth resting on the oven handle to dry your hands, “good morning, bär. slept well?” you teased gently with a small smile in Toto’s direction. you take an appraising glance of his form; he’s only wearing this pair of pajama pants covered in the mercedes logo (George gifted him those when the team did secret santa last year; Toto said he’d never wear them), leaving his toned torso exposed for your viewing pleasure, sleep lines from his pillow are still faint along his left cheek, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. your husband nods half-heartedly, and blinks in confusion as he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

you're wearing one of his white button-up shirts—half of the buttons are fastened, the sleeves are rolled up and cuffed right above your elbow. you aren’t wearing a bra based on the way he can see how your nipples are pebbled through the shirt, and he assumes you’re only wearing underwear based on your bare legs. your feet are warmed by a pair of black, fuzzy house slippers, the bottom of the shirt rests along the middle of your thighs, and the collar is shifted to the side exposing your collarbone. your hair is free, allowed to rest however it wants to on this winter morning. he starts, making to finally enter the space of the kitchen and give you a proper morning greeting, but notices a smudge of flour along your jawline. and then he sees the baking utensils gathered in the sink, and a rich aroma starts to permeate the air. it smells slightly like coffee and slightly like dark chocolate—it’s sweet. then, it dawned on Toto, you’re baking pumpernickel bread. for him. his heart flutters; you usually sleep as late into the morning as possible, but today, you woke up at an insane hour just to make him his favorite bread from scratch. you’ve always teased him for how difficult he acts about his breakfast treat yet you sacrificed hours of sleep to please him. Toto’s mushy mindset is broken, as you cock your head at him, wondering why he hasn’t responded to you, and the collar of his your shirt shifts and falls to expose the top of your chest. mmm, yes, he should thank you properly.

you don’t even have time to register toto crossing the space between you, before your lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss. a shocked squeal is muffled against toto’s lips, as his large hands hold your waist steady, and your own hand flies up to hold his head. your other hand rises to tap at his chest frantically, as you begin to run out of air, and toto pulls away with an amused chuckle. dazedly, your hand on his chest pulls back to touch your lips, like you needed further verification that he just kissed you.

Toto smirks, “good morning, schatz.”

you nod unsteadily, “yes—g-good morning.”

your husband laughs louder at your stutter, and tugs you into his chest for a proper hug, rubbing at the nape of your neck with a heavy hand. the two of you stand tangled in the middle of the kitchen, uncaring of how many seconds fly by, and your eyes flutter shut at the relaxing motion of Toto’s massaging hands.

“i’m going to fuck you on the island, now, “ Toto informs you kindly.

you startle, pulling your head back to stare up at him with wide eyes. his gaze is serious, and you can’t help how your cheeks warm under his attention.

“well…” you murmur, “i’m not going to say no.”

from there, it’s all a rushed haze. you go from having two feet firmly planted on the tiled floor to being lifted and placed on the marble island as toto speeds through unbuttoning your collared shirt. you try to shrug it off, but Toto halts your motions firmly telling you to leave it on. you hum absently and pull him into a kiss. Toto moans into your mouth, and the sound has your hips bucking forwarding to grind against the bulge in his pants. his hands reaches for your left hip and assists you in grinding against him, and a sigh of pleasure parts your lips. the austrian eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, and he tastes a bit of sugar from whatever you snacked on while making his bread. oddly, that causes more of his blood to rush south and he breaks the kiss to lean back and tug your panties off.

you simultaneously pull his pajama pants down, and squirm happily at the fact that he slept without boxers. Toto gently guides you to lie back on the countertop, and coos softly when you shiver from the cold surface; he’ll warm you up soon. he pulls your panties off from where they were dangling around your right ankle and drops them to the floor, kicking them to the side along with his pants. tugging you forward, your ass rests on the edge of the counter and he leans down to press kisses on your throat.

moaning highly, you crane your neck to expose its full length to his mercy. your right hand tangles in his hair to guide him exactly where you want, your left hand holds at his shoulder for support, with your nails digging into the meat of his muscles. Toto pauses, and pulls back to grab your left hand. a broken whine falls from your lips, and you buck your hips upward searching for friction, the slide of his cock along your folds feels delicious. his knees buckle at the sensation, and he forces your hips back down with his free hand, as he pulls your left hand in front of him to look at it.

“where’s your ring, liebling?” Toto asks, warm eyes focused on your bare ring finger. you laugh disbelievingly, amused and surprised at the fact that he managed to feel the absence of your wedding ring, and pull your hand out of his grasp smoothly. you reach behind you and pluck your ring from its spot on top of your phone, and slide it back on your finger. brandishing your ringed-hand in his eyeline, you impatiently try and buck your hips upward to no avail, his one-handed hold on you is unbreakable.

“okay! fuck me—now, please,” you demand desperately.

Toto hushes you, and holds your left hand steady. he stares into your eyes as he presses a kiss on the wedding ring he bestowed you with. your cheeks burn hot, and you roll your eyes as if your heart didn’t liquify at the show of devotion. your husband guides himself to your entrance, and pushes in carefully—thankful he fucked you open last night. you whimper softly, tender and sore, but you nod frantically to encourage Toto to push further in. he groans throatily as he bottoms out, throwing his head back in pleasure, and your moan harmonizes at the feeling of fullness. the stretch burns slightly, but you’re more focused on achieving an orgasm than the space he caves out in your walls.

you squeeze your knees around his waist, and grind up on him to encourage him to move. Toto grabs your left leg, bringing it to rest over his shoulder, while your right leg remains resting on his waist, both fuzzy slippers falling from your feet at the movement. it has him sliding slightly deeper inside you, and a spark of pleasure races up your spine. Toto begins to thrust, setting a quick pace from the get go. he fucked you open eight hours ago and the tightness of your cunt has him considering that he didn’t fuck you well enough. the bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips suggest differently. it’s ridiculous, how lost the two you get in each other’s bodies. your moans are punched out of you with every thrust, his cock dragging against your most pleasurable spot every time he sinks in you. Toto should be embarrassed at how quickly this is ending, but your sounds are too erotic for there to be any other outcome.

he lays his hand on your navel, gently adding pressure over where he’s reaching inside of you, while his thumb circles rapidly over your clit. your back arches sharply as you screech from the unexpected flare of pleasure, raking your nails down his back in thin red lines as you cum at the added stimulation. it’s a multitude of sensations and emotions that had you hurtling over the edge quicker than you thought possible, and Toto has no choice but to follow you into the abyss, unable to hold back his orgasm at the unbearably hot and wet grasp of your cunt. your husband rocks into you through the afterglow, pausing only when you start to whimper in too much, and not feeling good. staring up at toto with a blissed-out smile and half-lidded eyes, you sigh sweetly as he slips out and leans down to kiss you again. the press of his lips is syrupy sweet and you find yourself getting lost under the feeling of him pouring his love and devotion into you—even though you don’t need the reminder—and the timer you’ve set on your phone blares jarringly causing you and toto to jump apart, startled.

“what the fuck,” Toto deadpans as you scramble around to turn off the alarm.

you sigh in relief once the aggravating sound is silenced, and nudge at Toto’s hip with your foot, “well—don’t just stand there! get the bread out before it burns!”

the austrian huffs exaggeratedly, like it’s such a chore, and pulls on the oven mitts to take out the pumpernickel bread adaptation after you direct him to the proper oven, not wanting him to disturb the traditional bread baking. the sight of the known headphone-smashing, hothead mercedes team principal completely naked spare for a pair of oven mitts is amusing, enough that you can’t quiet your snort, uncaring of how Toto glares at you. he places the baking tin on the cooling rack you set to the side, and hums happily at the aroma—even though it’s a far cry from the usual bread he prefers. like the oaf he is, Toto reaches to pull a piece of the fresh pumpernickel to eat, but with lightning quick speed you reach over and slap his hand away before he defiles the bread.

“aht aht! what do you think you're doing? it needs at least forty-five minutes to cool before you can take a slice,” you scold the grown man.

Toto pouts (astounding, honestly), and then he brightens considerably, a sleazy smirk spreading across his lips, “ah? we have time for a second round then, maybe three…” you laugh hysterically, ignoring the way your stomach flips pleasingly at the suggestion, and slide off the counter, buttoning up your collared shirt, and you bend down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing lying on the floor, “there’s no way you manage to get hard twice in forty-five minutes, old man–” Toto balks at your words–he’s really not old, or at least not that old, “–however, it’s enough time to finish washing the dishes you distracted me from doing.”

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