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ickadori · 8 months

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++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wrio missed his wife, and she missed him just as much. two simps in love.

[cws] fluff. fem reader -> wriothesley’s wife. reader is a mondstadt native. kissing.

Wriothesley’s cup of tea pauses halfway to his mouth as there’s a knock at his office door. His fingers tighten unconsciously around the handle, that incessant throbbing at his temples that had been dying out suddenly tapping into its nth life.

He contemplates ignoring it; pretending he didn’t hear it and indulging in his fresh brew, but he’s never been one to shirk off his work, no matter how inconsequential the task.

He sets the cup down rougher than necessary, and the legs of his chair scrape loudly against the floor as he pushes it back from his desk and stands to his feet. Someone better be dead or on the verge.

It was an unspoken rule that Wriothesley wasn’t to be bothered at this time -a quarter after five until six- because it was official tea time, a very, very important time in his day that let the inhabitants in Meropide see his most agreeable side… although he had heard talk from a few gossipy guards and prisoners that his ‘pissy attitude’ this past month had nothing to do with his interrupted tea times, but rather that his wife had gone back to Mondstadt to visit family.

“You know how he gets when he doesn’t see her after a while—downright scary. I’ve never seen a man look so enraged and distraught at the same time.”

“He put me on pipe restoration duty —don’t laugh, it isn’t funny! Worst job in the whole place, I swear— for the next six months all because my wife dropped by with a bento on my break. Apparently no one can be happy when his missus is away.”

“I caught him staring at her picture the other day, y’know the one he keeps in that chain around his neck, and sighing like some schoolgirl. I nearly thought my daughter had somehow gotten herself arrested and thrown down here when I heard all those lovesick sighs.”

It was all hearsay and speculation, of course. Wriothesley could manage just fine with you away - he was a grown man, a weathered man, a man who could function fully without the company of his wife.

That’s right, he thinks to himself. He’s been doing just fine in your absence, a bit quicker to anger than usual, but with the looming threat of being turned into a big, sopping puddle right below his feet, could you really blame him?

The door is wrenched open, strands of black and gray flying back from where they rested against his forehead due to the strong gust of wind he created.

“What is it now?” He nearly hisses out, but he manages to get a reign on it last minute, the words coming out a bit strained instead. He eyes the guard standing in front of him, their eyes flitting between the crease between his brows and the floor. “Spit it out before I—”

He stops abruptly when he hears a voice that he knows intimately well, and had he possessed any shame when it came publicly displaying the love he harbored for you, he would have been a touch embarrassed at the speed of which his frown smoothed out and the throbbing in his head disappeared, a sparkle in his eyes as his shoulders lose a bit of their tension.

“Oh? He has? Thank you for telling me, Sigewinne. I’ll get right on that.” You come rounding the corner with the small doctor at your side, a knapsack in your hands, and had Wriothesley been any less sane, he would have swore that he could feel the rays of the sunshine beaming down on his skin and fresh air filtering into his lungs when you turned your gaze to him, scornful as it was.

You’re fitted in a dress that’s customary for the women in your homeland to wear, and flowers are weaved into your hair, and the ring on your finger seems to shine a bit brighter.

“Wriothesley.” You march up to him, eyebrows knitted together, and push your finger against his chest. “What is this I hear about you acting like a tyrant?”

“You look beautiful.” He breathes out.

“And going to the Pankration ring? You know those poor people don’t stand a chance against you. That’s just bullying.”

“Let me take your bag, it looks heavy.”

“And you haven’t been eating right, either! Look at your face — you’ve lost weight!” He transfers the bag from your hands to his, and when his fingers brush against yours, he finally lets a smile bloom on his face, being met with a huff. “Don’t smile at me. I’m mad at you.”

“Can’t help it, happy to see you.” You falter a bit, corners of your lips twitching, but you hold strong, choosing to save face in front of the onlookers—always put up a good fight, especially when others are looking, is what he had told you once upon a time. “I’ve missed you so much.” It comes out in a low murmur, eyes locked onto yours and refusing to stray, even when you decide that his gaze is a bit too heavy for the setting and avert your own.

“I-well-you…just get inside your office.”

He’s nice enough to hold back a chuckle, instead stepping to the side so that you can shuffle past him and inside. Before he shuts the door, his gaze turns icy and his smile thins out as he lets his eyes sweep over everyone present. A resounding groan is heard, the unspoken promise loud and clear, and then he’s pushing the door shut and turning on his heel.

You’re on him in a second, arms wrapped around his waist as you bury your face into his chest. He returns the hug just as quick, thick, burly arms circling around your shoulders as his head dips down so he can stuff his nose into your hair and breathe your scent in.

Your voice comes out muffled as you try to speak, and he loosens his hold on you a bit, allowing you to pop your head up so you can look up at him. There’s a halfhearted pout on your lips, and his response is a reflex as he leans down to give you a peck once, twice, three times before moving on to place one on the tip of your nose.

“You were supposed to let me scold you out there, birdie. Now everyone’s gonna know that I let you off easy.”

“Let me off easy? I’d say this is the meanest you’ve ever been to me,” he gives an exaggerated expression of hurt. “You haven’t even told me you missed me, or that you’re happy to see me, or that you’ll never leave again because you couldn’t stand being away from me.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You smile despite yourself, and he kisses you again, scarred hands moving to cradle your cheeks. You part with a gasp for air, and its his turn to smile when you stretch up to reconnect your lips, the lack of air not deterring you in the slightest.

“Breathe, sweetheart…” He rasps against your lips, and you suck in a breath, eyes slowly blinking as you tug at the material of his shirt. There’s a rush of emotions that washes over him at the unspoken confirmation that you missed him just as much as he had missed you, and he lets his hands wander down to settle on your waist, fingers flexing as they squeeze at the flesh there through the material of your dress.

“Well, well, well,” he starts, and you blink out of your stupor to don a guilty expression. “Looks like you haven’t been eating right, either, hypocrite.” He lightly pinches at your side, and you squeal out a laugh as you lightly bat at his hand.

“Have I told you that I missed you, and that I’m sooo happy to see you, and that I’ll never, ever leave again because I can’t stand being away from you?” You flutter your lashes up at him, direct that heart-stopping smile up at him, and for a split second he thinks that the primordial sea has broken the seal and reduced him to nothing but a puddle at your feet.

“Careful now, words like that are liable to kill a man, and this place isn’t fitting for a sweet girl like you.”

“Oh? Then maybe I should leave earlier than I intended t—” He quiets you with a kiss, and you laugh into it, earning a gentle nip on your bottom lip. Your teasing smile settles into something sweeter, tender, vulnerable, and it mirrors him perfectly.

You both speak your next words in unison.

“I missed you.”

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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lxkeee · 4 months

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MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

PART TWO

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: lmaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago 😭 also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage lmao.

PART ONE | PART THREE

The princess of hell along with her girlfriend was just settling in the guest room heaven provided for them temporarily as they had an important meeting with them.

Charlie and Vaggie stopped talking as their was a knock on their door, “Who do you think is it?” Charlie asked and Vaggie shrugged and Charlie decided to open the door.

There stood a rather tall female angel with three pairs of wings and a golden halo on her head, the short white dress accompanied by gold compliments the woman's figure beautifully.

Safe to say both Charlie and Vaggie were mesmerized, the woman before them was drop dead gorgeous. Though, Vaggie was still cautious, despite a former angel, she doesn't know who this woman is as some seraphim angels tend to not show themselves to the lower ranking aside from Sera.

“Are you Princess Charlotte? The daughter of Lucifer?” the woman asked with her [e/c] eyes sparkling in excitement, the woman quickly placed her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, “Oh! Sorry for the intrusion, I forgot to introduce myself,” she says with a small smile before giving the two girls a curt bow, “My name is [y/n], a seraphim. It's a pleasure to meet you two.”

Charlie gave her a big grin, giving the woman a curt bow. The princess of hell decided to trust her as she couldn't sense any bad intentions from the older woman and to her, the name [y/n] sounded awfully familiar, she just forgot where she had heard it before. “It is so nice to meet you, I am Charlotte but you can call me Charlie.” Charlie said and [y/n] just grinned as Vaggie decided to just watch the two, still cautious. The older woman's eyes landed on Vaggie and she gave her a grin, “And who might you be?” she asked her and Vaggie just glared at her before avoiding her gaze, “Vaggie.”

[Y/n] just grins, her eyes analyzing the gray haired woman before letting out a small hum before shifting her gaze to the princess. [Y/n]'s heart ached a little to see how much the girl looked exactly like her father. [Y/n] misses him, she wished she did something that could have prevented his fall. Regrets always comes last. She took a deep breath then once more wore a bright smile on her face. Charlie noticed the shift of her mood but decided not to question it.

“So Charlie, I came here as I was curious what your plan for hell is about.” [y/n] says softly, she wasn't there during the meeting Lucifer requested for hell and this time, she promised to be there for his daughter instead. Charlie's eyes sparkled excitedly, excited that an angel aside from that bitch ass Adam would finally listen to her. “Really?!” The princess asked excitedly and [y/n] can only let out a soft chuckle, “Of course, why don't we take a walk while you tell me about it? Your friend can join us too.”

Charlie calmed down and gave the older woman a smile, “Vaggie here is actually my girlfriend.” she says, expecting the older woman to judge her but she was surprised when [Y/n] just ruffled her hair. “My apologies, I didn't know.”

The younger girls were surprised, that an angel didn't show any disgust to their relationship and she even looked like she approved.

“Now then, how about that walk?”

“And that's what I'm planning, I wished for my people to find redemption and join heaven.” Charlie explained softly, taking a bite of her strawberry cheesecake. Both [y/n] and Charlie sat in a rather peaceful cafe in heaven, angelic sigils circling around them as [y/n] casted them for their privacy. [Y/n] can only smile as she listens to the younger girl who rambles about her plans for her people, [y/n] can't help but remember how similar Charlie is to her father, oh heavens... She missed him so much.

Vaggie didn't join them unfortunately, she said that she wanted to rest a little bit in the guest room.

[y/n] gracefully placed down the cup of coffee she was sipping and gently wiping her lips with a napkin, “That is truly admirable Charlie, to see you have so much hope for your people really reminds me of your father. I really hope it will come to life.” the compliment was almost enough for Charlie to burst into tears, to hear someone praise her plans and believe in it, it felt like a mother praising her.

Though, she was able to stop her tears as she realizes something. Reminds me of your father. [Y/n] and her dad knew each other.

Then Charlie remembers, the stories her dad told her about heaven and the stories he told her about his closest angel friend—the only one who believed in him. She remembers thinking that she felt her dad loved that angel in one way or another, with how fondly he spoke of her—with so much adoration.

“I remember now, you were my father's best friend!” Charlie gasped, a hand over her mouth and [y/n] can only chuckle, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Were? I still think of him as my best friend.” She chuckles softly, “Though, I don't blame him if he doesn't think the same way as I wasn't able to help him back then.” she continues sadly and Charlie had to wave her arms around to stop her, “Nonono, my father doesn't think like that. You're still his best friend.” Charlie reassured the older woman.

“Really now? How is he these days? I haven't heard from him after so many eons.” [y/n] asked softly with a slight chuckle and Charlie can only sigh with a small smile on her face, “Well... He's still how he usually is. Kind, trying his best for me, and lately he had an obsession with making rubber ducks.” she says with a small giggle making the older woman chuckle, “Thay sounds like him, though surprised that he still loved ducks. He used to ramble to me about random duck facts when he was still here. He was such a dork, I truly missed him.” [y/n] says with a chuckle, a longing look in her eyes.

Charlie was able to put two and two together, her father and this woman loved each other and she can only assume they didn't confess in the fear of ruining their friendship. Charlie loves her parents but a part of her is hoping in a different universe, her father and [y/n] are happy together.

Charlie decided not to mention it to the woman and just continued hanging out with the older woman. “I am sure he misses you too.”

“The meeting will start in a few hours and Charlie?” [y/n] says softly before summoning a wax sealed white envelope out of thin air, gold sparkling from where the envelope is as it slowly falls into her hands. Charlie looked at her in curiosity, “Can I ask you a favor?” [y/n] asked her hesitantly and Charlie just nodded, “Of course!”

“Can I ask you a favor of delivering this letter to Lucifer?” She asked and gently extended her hand towards the younger girl in which the girl accepted the letter and placed it in her chest pocket. “Of course! My father would be delighted to hear from you.”

“Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate it dearly.” [y/n] smiled softly as she stood up from her seat, extending her hand to help the hell princess up from her seat. “Now, let me walk you back to your room so you can get ready for your meeting.”

Now the princess of hell wishes the other angels were just as understanding as [y/n]. Even though the meeting didn't go as planned, she felt reassured as both Emily and [y/n] were there in the court room.

“What are we even talkin' about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot, like the cocks in his mouth. This discussion is senseless and petty.” Lute sneers with an annoyed glare, putting on her mask. Though, Charlie can feel her patience thinning, her eyes glaring at the angels.

The other angels looking down on the scene happening below, [y/n] looking worried for her while glaring at Adam and Lute. “There's no question to be posed, he's unholy, case closed. Did you forget that 'Hell is forever'?” Adam and Lute sang mockingly and [y/n] could feel her anger starting to boil. She always hated Adam, that egoistical prick, she looked up at Sera as if asking her to stop this nonsense.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month. Gotta say, I can't wait to—” Adam sang and [y/n] noticed Sera getting worried, “Adam.” Sera says sternly but it seems the man was too busy to hear her, “Come down and exterminate you!”

At that moment, loud ringing was only what [y/n] heard as she was shocked to hear him say that. Exterminate...? Don't tell me...? [Y/n] asked herself before glaring at Sera, the other angels were also shocked by the reveal.

“Wait!” Emily exclaimed, shocked by the reveal and Adam just noticed his slip up, “Shit.”

“What are you saying? Let me get this straight, you go down there and kill those poor souls?” Emily asked, horrified as she slowly flies down towards Charlie, holding her hand, “You didn't know?” Charlie asked and Emily shook her head. “Whoops!” Adam says, not a care in the world, “Guess the cat's out of the bag.” Lute says with a smirk, “What's the big deal?” Adam asked with a condescending smirk and [y/n] wished she could go down there and punch him.

“Sera, tell me that you didn't know...” both Emily and [y/n] asked simultaneously, though, Sera was just looking at Emily. [Y/n] was pissed at this whole revelation, human souls are killed in heaven by the hands that are supposed to be pure holiness. To think about blood staining those hands, fills her with disgust.

The whole courtroom was a mess, [y/n] doesn't remember what exactly happened. The reveal that Vaggie was an angel didn't surprise her, she can sense the girl's angelic blood but the reveal that Sera was the one who ordered for the extermination to happen, filled her with rage.

“Charlie! Don't lose hope! We will find a way to help you!” Emily says as we watched Vaggie and Charlie be sucked by a portal back to hell, “Don't give up! We'll find a way!” [y/n] added, making sure the two girls heard. Sera glared at her and [y/n] glared back.

That's what Charlie last saw, Emily looking worried and disappointed but what worried her was Sera and [y/n] started arguing, angelic powers starting to spark between them and that was the last thing she saw as she returned back in hell. Thankfully, the letter was safe in her pocket.

#lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer #“MLIMOM” — LUCIFER X READER

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fox-guardian · 3 months

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[ID: An eight page digital comic featuring Sam, Celia, and Alice from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. The characters are all colored with a single color each. Sam is red, Celia is green, and Alice is pink. Sam is a fat Arab man with short curly dark hair, a mustache, and a small goatee, and he is wearing small black earrings, a cardigan, a turtleneck, trousers and loafers. Celia is a taller Korean woman with short dark hair and she is wearing rectangular glasses, piercings including an industrial piercing, an x-shaped earring, and snakebites, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a vest, trousers, and black wrist cuffs. Alice is an even taller white woman with long fluffy hair and crooked teeth, and she is wearing cat eye glasses, three pairs of earrings, snakebites, a flannel shirt, a hoodie tied around her waist, a patchwork skirt, bracelets, and a lanyard.

Sam and Celia are stood at a table covered in papers. Celia urgently turns to Sam. Celia: Alice is coming! She can't catch us researching, we need a diversion, QUICK! How can we make her think we're not doing what we're doing? Sam, shrugging really hard: UHHHH she thinks I have a crush on you?? Celia, sweating, turns back to where Alice is coming from, panicked, and turns back to Sam, shrugging and reaching for him. Celia smiling a bit manically: Yeah, that'll work, sure!

Sam, with Celia's hands grabbing his cardigan: Wait whaAAAA- He is pulled out of frame. Alice walks in: Hey Sam, working hard or hardly woOOOAA She leans on the doorframe as she holds a hand to her chest in shock.

The next panel is rendered with soft pink shadows and "shoujo sparkles" in the now pink background. Sam is sitting on the table holding onto Celia, whose face is buried in his neck as she wraps one arm around his back and the other holds up one of his legs under his knee. Neither of their faces are visible. The rest of the page fades back to gray from there. Sam and Celia look over at Alice, hair ruffled, Sam is now blushing. Sam: ALICE!! He pushes Celia away and they look at each other for a moment, panicked. Sam: It's- .... exactly what it looks like! Celia: Aw, you've caught us! He rests his hands on her shoulders and they both look in opposite directions as though embarrassed. Celia is also blushing lightly. There are red and green neon signs pointing to them reading "Totally Ham-Slammin'" and "GAY! (in an M/F way)" respectively.

Alice looks to be in shock with a vacant expression and a computer pop up over her forehead reading "Alice.exe has stopped responding". In the next panel she is fine again and back to smirking. Alice: WOW SAM, didn't know you had it in you! Now I'm no snitch, so I didn't see anything, BUT- you lovebirds should cut it out before Gwen catches you. Celia and Sam look at each other anxiously, cheeks pressed together as she speaks. Alice: You KNOW she'd tell Lena. Celia, pulling back and smoothing her hair out: Oh, for sure. Sam: Th-Thanks, Alice. Alice: Don't mention it! I'll give you crazy kids a minute to straighten up, TA-TA~ She waves as she leaves.

Sam and Celia listen to her steps fade before going "phew" and finally pulling away from each other, now holding hands at an arms distance. Celia: You alright? That was kinda sudden.... Sam: It's fine! Just a bit caught off guard. Celia: I can't believe she actually bought all of that! Sam: Me either! Works for me, though.

Celia: Did you want to get down- Sam, pulling away suddenly, blushing again: NO! He crosses his legs and looks away sheepishly, scratching his head. Sam: I wanna stay here another minute or so.... Celia, concerned: You sure you're alright? Sam: Yeah! Just, er.... Celia looks at him, confused. Sam, blushing increasingly harder: Ahem. (He folds his hands in his lap politely.) I am not immune to being thrown on a table. Celia, smiling and politely stepping away: AH! .... Noted~

She walks away casually, still smiling. Celia: I'll give you a minute to collect yourself. Sam, head down in his lap, embarrassed: Thanks.... He looks up after she leaves. Sam: Wait. He straightens up, slightly panicked, face entirely red. Sam: What do you mean by "NOTED"?!

end ID]

~~~~

i am SO glad this episode didn't entirely debunk the silly headcanon that birthed this comic. initially i wasn't convinced sam actually had a crush so i made this like "well if he didn't before, HE DOES NOW" so.... here's this silly comic thing <3 i just think they're neat <3

#fg's art #the magnus protocol #tmagp #samama khalid #celia ripley #alice dyer #do sam and celia have a shipname yet. idk.#also i am REALLY proud of the expressions in this one #also also if you see inconsistencies no you don't <3 #also also also i hope the id is good!! still not used to doing comics and stuff but i hope it works!

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nimblermortal · 2 years

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Guys. GUYS.

If you make a cake... make a thin caramel lid and put it over the top before the icing. I did this to ensure I got a smooth top for the icing, BUT even more importantly when you cut the cake, there is the most AMAZING crackling sound. Sensory experience.

#Patrick you must tell your siblings #I will add pictures at some point #but I want to doctor them considerably in photoshop #it's a combo birthday/gender reveal cake #(yeah obviously I don't believe in gender reveal parties #the gender in question is goth)#(so the cake has to be decorated with like. gray skull sparkles and CONGRATULATIONS SLAGATHOR and stuff #thence the photoshop)

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leviathanspain · 6 months

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take everything, it’s all yours

coriolanus snow x reader

synopsis: coryo knows what they’re gonna do to him, and he just wants one last taste

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“they’re gonna ship me off, baby..” he whispered. he was panting, having climbed through your second floor apartment window. the hunger games had been declared over, with lucy gray being the victor. coryo had done things he claimed ‘would secure his future’, without ever telling you what they were. but they were enough to land him into trouble, which led him to say his goodbyes.

he moved closer, the bed dipping with his weight. you sat on the bed, hands in your lap as you contemplated. it was the middle of the night, your parents had gone to bed, but you knew that with any noise, they would awake instantly.

“i-“ your hesitation was clear, coryo knew that in order to get you to put out, he would have to do some convincing.

he leaned forward, taking your hands out of your lap, grabbing one and holding it tightly in his grasp. you looked at him, gasping a little as his mouth caught yours. he kissed you roughly, a man starved, as you found a way to match his rhythm.

you couldn’t resist him, not with those gorgeous curls and lust filled sparkle in his eyes. you couldn’t resist him the first time you met him, assigned as his class partner, you would make a fool of yourself to get him to notice you.

now here he was, begging at your feet, just for you to touch him.

you gave in, kissing him in a way that made him know you’d give him what he wanted.

he let his hands fiddle with the fabric of your nightgown. it was a thin silk, pink tinted. he hiked it up, as best as he could before pushing you back into the pillows, hiking it up more to rest above your hips.

he pulled away, and placed the hand in his, on your dress, “hold it.” he whispered, “and shut your mouth.” he warned.

you gulped thickly, nodding as his hands found the seam of your panties. they had a little bow on the front, matching the bows on the straps of your nightgown.

you waited patiently as coryo pulled down your panties, watching them grace the skin of your legs until they reached your feet, where you hastily kicked them off.

coryo wasted no time in holding your legs open, hands finding their comfortable spot on your inner thighs, squeezing them once before beginning to unbuckle his own trousers.

you waited, watching his hard cock spring out from the confinement of his pants. he pumped himself a few times before spitting on his hand, rubbing it over himself.

he pulled your legs down, closer to him, and with better access. he leaned forward, curls brushing the front of your nightgown as he lined himself up with your swollen cunt. you were so wet, he hadn’t realized that the spitting was unnecessary.

“mhm, coryo..” you moaned softly, feeling the head of his cock pushing into you. he was so big, you felt like you’d never get used to it. and considering this could be the last time ever under coriolanus snow, you didn’t think you ever would.

he thrusted in fully, and you couldn’t help the groan that fell from your lips. steadily pushing into you as he leaned above you. “mm, take it…” he grunted, thrusting in harder, watching as your eyes rolled slightly.

you couldn’t contain your moans, “it’s all yours! coryo, take everything…” you cried so loudly, he would have to do it for you. his hand clamped over your mouth, tightly to make sure no one else would hear you.

he found his pace, a rough yet dramatic pace, as if he wanted this to last forever. his hand was still tight on your mouth, his body taut over yours. you moaned, but he could tell you were trying to keep quiet.

but even he seemed to struggle. he groaned softly, your cunt around him, squeezing and not letting him go, was enough to make him cum. but he held out.

you hand loosened on your nightgown and you could feel his breath on you, “hold it!” he whispered, bringing your hand to the fabric, “don’t let it go.” he demanded, thrusting into you even harder.

you knew your cervix would be bruised, it always was a little sore after a night with coryo. you couldn’t contain your moans anymore, not as the knot in your belly got tighter and tighter.

coryo watched as you came undone, his last thrust had sent you over the edge, and you were trembling under his touch. your moans contained only by his hand, and your eyes were just whites.

you shuddered as the feeling overcame you, feeling the loss of his cock.

coryo stroked himself, coated with the juices of your arousal and orgasm, he continued to stroke himself, your eyes lazily watching.

he twitched suddenly, and cum squirted out onto the planes of your belly. he groaned lowly, watching as his cum dripped.

you felt weak, eyes closing momentarily as coryo moved around, grabbing a random shirt to clean you off.

he kissed you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut before he escaped through your window, for the last time.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow #thg x reader #thg smut #tbosas #tom blyth #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow smut

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witchywithwhiskey · 13 days

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ari levinson + "that sounds like an excuse, I want a confession"

optional scenario: ari as the devil 😈

that secret place in the garden

pairing: father's boss!ari levinson x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), unspecified age gap, smut, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, fingering (f receiving), outdoor sex, begging, teasing, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, light bdsm, little bit of bratting, pet names (buttercup), fluffy ending

word count: 3,200ish

a/n: ahh Aspen i struggled with this one a bit and it's not technically Ari as the devil, but i think there's some parallels you could draw if you squint 😅 hope you and everyone else enjoys!!! ♡

It was an unseasonably warm spring day—much too hot to be attending an outdoor party hosted at the mansion of your father’s boss, Ari Levinson. But, as you glanced around at the other attendees, you seemed to be the only one suffering beneath the overly bright and warm rays of the spring sun.

The terrace behind the mansion was filled with your father’s colleagues and their families, since Mr. Levinson had invited everyone to bring anyone they wanted to the party at his home in the countryside. The event was meant to celebrate a successful first quarter or something of the kind. You couldn’t quite remember since your eyes tended to glaze over whenever your father began talking about work.

Despite your father having worked for Mr. Levinson’s company for a number of years, you didn’t know very many people at the party. You’d trailed after your father for a little while, smiling dutifully when he’d boasted about your career to his colleagues. But when he began bemoaning the fact that you hadn’t found a husband yet, you’d excused yourself.

You’d wandered through the party looking for the only other person you knew, but when you didn’t find them, you’d stood at the edge of the crowd on the terrace, sipping a sweet, sparkling drink. You’d felt awkward, and your discomfort only grew when you noticed the looks you were getting.

You’d worn a rather short sundress to the party, and you’d known when you put it on that it wasn’t quite appropriate for the gathering hosted by your father’s boss. The neckline dipped low on your chest, the fabric so thin you couldn’t wear a bra, and the bottom hem flirted around your upper thighs, showing off a nearly scandalous amount of skin. But it was such a hot day, and you’d worn the dress for someone special—someone who was supposed to be at the party but didn’t appear to be.

Frustrated by all the lecherous looks from the men who worked with your father, and the equally scathing glances from their wives and girlfriends, you slipped away from the terrace. Descending a set of stone steps into the gardens that spread out below the mansion, you breathed a sigh of relief as you escaped into the shaded lower grounds of the estate.

Strolling through the gardens, you admired the bright spring flowers and all the lush greenery that had only recently bloomed into life. Amid your wandering, you discovered a wrought iron gate set into a high stone wall and you followed your curiosity, pushing it open and discovering a secret garden beyond.

There were purple flowers and vines draping down the gray stone walls, and a rainbow of flowers circling the small garden. A stone fountain stood in the center, with water bubbling out of a fixture at the center that looked like a roaring lion. The water looked clean and clear and you bent down to trail your fingers through it, finding it was cool and refreshing.

You were just debating whether to take off your shoes and dip your feet into the water to cool off when you heard a voice from behind you.

“I won’t tell anyone if you decide to jump in,” came a rumbling, familiar voice, “I’m sure it’d be a relief.”

Spinning around with a gasp, you found your father’s boss standing just inside the gate. Ari Levinson’s bright blue eyes were two twinkling stars even in the dazzling spring sunshine. You felt a warmth bloom within your heart, and a small smile curved your lips.

Ari looked endlessly polished, even on the hot day, and you couldn’t help but admire the older man as you took in the sky blue linen shirt and light pants he wore. When you finished your perusal of his outfit, your gaze met his. He made a show of trailing his eyes down your body and back up, giving you a wolfish grin, his eyes heating until they burned even more than the sun.

The look in your dad’s boss’s eye made you squirm, a delicious heat building between your thighs, and you turned back to the fountain, pretending to be unaffected.

“It is an excessively hot day for an outdoor party,” you commented, keeping your tone light. Butterflies were rioting in your chest and you couldn’t stop yourself from twisting your fingers together in an effort to stop yourself from reaching for the older man. Your body felt attuned to his, and you could feel him as he prowled closer.

Ari came to a stop just behind you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not close enough to actually brush up against you.

“Mm,” he hummed, acknowledging your words. “Whoever planned this party should’ve checked the weather.” His hand skimmed down just beside your arm, teasing you with the possibility of his touch but never quite making contact. A shiver raced down your spine, goosebumps raising all over your body even with the heat of the day.

“They should’ve,” you agreed in a whisper, forgetting what you were talking about as your mind went blank and your body trembled with need. You wanted to lean back into Ari’s chest, but you weren’t entirely certain it was such a good idea, especially with his party and all your father’s colleagues not too far away.

Thankfully, Ari made the decision for you, pressing his big palm to your stomach and easing you back against his chest. You let out a soft sigh of relief as you leaned against him. Ari was strong and steady at your back, your body relaxing into his familiar hold.

“I looked for you,” you whispered, turning your face so you could look up at Ari over your shoulder.

He ducked down, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I was inside talking to some members of the board who refused to be out in the heat,” he murmured, an apology in his tone. Then he leaned back, giving you another wolfish grin. “But then I heard one of my manager’s daughters had come to the party wearing a skimpy little sundress,” he rumbled, his hands sliding down over your hips until his fingers flirted with the hem of your dress. “And somehow I knew it was you.”

You wanted to smile impishly, liking the idea that Ari had known it was you, but forced yourself to pout and flutter your lashes at your dad’s boss. “It’s such a hot day, Mr. Levinson, I only dressed appropriately for the weather,” you murmured in your sultriest tone, adding some breathiness to your voice that you knew Ari would like.

“Slutty girl,” Ari rumbled, his tone accusing but warm enough that you knew there was no anger behind it. “That sounds like an excuse, I want a confession.” His hands slid under your dress, his fingers digging into your soft thighs as he groped you and worked his way up to the place that ached for him. “You wore this dress just to tempt me in front of everyone, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, unable to keep up the ruse when your knees were quaking with desire. If it wasn’t for Ari’s strong arms holding you up, you were certain you would’ve collapsed to the ground at his feet. “I did—I wore it for you, daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” he rasped his praise right into your ear. His fingers brushed against your panties and you realized all at once how wet you were. When Ari groaned, you knew he’d noticed as well. “So wet for daddy, buttercup—have I been neglecting you too much?”

“Ye-yes, daddy, need you!” Your voice was a whine as you leaned more firmly back against Ari’s chest, letting him support your weight while his fingers tugged your panties to the side. A loud gasp tumbled from your lips and your head fell back against his shoulder when his thumb brushed over your clit. “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” you whimpered, your whole body shuddering with pleasure.

“So pretty, buttercup,” Ari rumbled, his beard brushing against your cheek as he ducked down to press a kiss to your jaw. “Look so beautiful in your pretty little sundress, all dolled up for daddy.” Ari’s voice was warmer than the spring sunshine and it melted you further, your hands reaching up and sinking into his soft hair to hold onto him. “My gorgeous girl—all mine,” he said, his voice going lower and deeper and making your core clench for him.

Ari’s fingers dipped between the folds of your slit, playing with your desire and stroking your clit in soft little circles that had your hips stuttering forward and desperate mewls spilling from your mouth. “Daddy,” you cried on a gasp, unable to form any other word than the term of endearment that fit Ari so well.

“Mm, need daddy’s cock, buttercup?” he asked, and you could hear the teasing smile in his tone. “Need daddy to fill up your achy little cunt?”

“Yes, please,” you murmured sweetly, rolling your head to the side so you could look up at Ari. His eyes sparkled in the spring sunshine and his mouth curved in a charming smile. “Please fuck me, daddy,” you said, grinning when Ari’s eyes darkened. But you didn’t let him respond, grabbing his beard and pulling him down for a messy kiss.

Ari indulged you for a moment, then pulled away, leaving you gasping. He gripped your shoulder and gently eased you forward, bending you over so your hands were planted on the flat edge of the water fountain. Ari wasted no time in tugging your panties down your legs, helping you step out of them.

Glancing over your shoulder, you watched Ari pocket your panties and bit your lip to hide your pleased smile. He caught it anyway.

“You won’t be needing these,” Ari teased, shooting you a wink as he stood back up and worked his pants open.

When you felt the tip of his cock slide between your thighs, pressing against your dripping folds, you let your head fall between your arms and moaned loudly.

“Oh god,” you groaned as Ari began pushing inside you. He was so thick, it felt like he was splitting you open, but you loved every delicious moment it. “Oh my god,” you muttered on a gasp, the tip of Ari’s cock hitting the end of you, making your cunt clench around his thick length.

“You know I love it when you worship my cock, buttercup,” Ari rumbled as he curled around your back, his lips pressing a heated kiss to your bare shoulder. “But there’s no need to be so formal—daddy will do.” As he showered your shoulder blades in kisses, you could feel his self-satisfied grin against your skin.

Huffing a laugh, you squirmed your hips, fucking yourself back on his cock. “Then, fuck me, daddy,” you whined, rolling your hips forward and back, taking his hard length into your warm, slick cunt until both of you were moaning. “Daddy, please, need you,” you cried, your voice a pathetic whimper.

Ari chuckled against your shoulder, his hands digging into the top of your dress to knead your tits. “So needy today, buttercup,” he teasingly chastised you, tugging on your nipples until you let out a hoarse moan. “No one will find us in this garden, want to take my time with you.” He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, murmuring, “Missed you.”

A desperate mewling whine squeezed free from your throat, pleasure coursing through your body and making you tremble with need. “Missed you, too, daddy,” you whimpered, your body shuddering when Ari pulled out and thrust back inside you. “But you can take your time later, I need you to fuck me!”

With another laugh, Ari turned your face toward him and kissed you, his tongue plunging between your lips and fucking your mouth the way you wished he’d fuck your pussy. Then he was standing up, gripping your hips so hard you knew you’d feel his fingerprints for days.

“Alright, buttercup,” he rumbled, a grin in his voice, but when you looked back at him, you could see his darkened blue eyes focused on the place where your bodies joined. “You know daddy can’t resist giving you what you want—even if you are being a bit of a brat.” He glanced at your face and shot you another wink.

He looked so handsome beneath the springtime sun—a golden god in his secret garden, preparing to take you the way your body ached to be taken. It was everything you’d wanted from the day, and you were all too eager to urge him on with a cheeky quip.

“You love it when I’m a bit of a brat,” you teased, shooting him a flirty smile over your shoulder. Your expression didn’t last, though, because Ari pulled his cock almost all the way free of your body and slammed back inside, forcing a loud moan from you.

“I do,” Ari agreed through gritted teeth, setting a brutal pace as he pounded into you from behind. “Now be a good girl for daddy and take the cock you begged for.” His fingers dug into the creases of your hips where you were bent over, pulling your body back onto his hard length as he surged forward.

It was all you could do to moan your response, focusing on keeping your knees locked beneath you and enjoying the feeling of Ari’s big cock splitting you open. Since he hadn’t told you to be quiet, you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, sobbing and crying and moaning your pleasure while he fucked you into oblivion.

Ari worked you up until you were on the precipice of your release, and then he slid one of his hands between your plush thighs, rubbing your clit as he muttered, “Come for daddy, buttercup, lemme feel that tight cunt milk my cock, gonna fill you up.” The sharp clapping sound of Ari’s hips slapping against your ass and thighs filled your ears along with his voice and you were lost.

You came with a hoarse scream, pleasure crashing through your body and making your arms and legs tremble violently as you forced yourself to stay in position. Your body went tight as mindless moans spilled from your lips and your pussy squeezed Ari’s cock hard enough to send him over the edge of his own release.

“Good girl, good girl,” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he rutted into you. Then he pressed deep into your cunt and groaned. You felt his cock twitch as he came inside you, his fingers digging possessively into your hips while you rode out the waves of your own pleasure.

For a long moment, the two of you stayed like that, reveling in your releases together, Ari’s hands idly massaging your hips while you caught your breath.

Then with a soft groan, Ari began maneuvering your still shuddering body to sit with him on the flat edge of the water fountain. Keeping your bodies connected, his softening cock buried deep in your cunt, he helped you pull your shoes off, then shed his own and rolled up his pants. He spun your bodies to dunk both your feet into the cool water.

You sighed in relief and melted back into Ari’s chest, his arms holding you tight so you wouldn’t slip off his cock. “Feels good, daddy,” you murmured, turning your head and burying your face into Ari’s beard beneath his jaw.

“Good girl,” he said softly, brushing a kiss to your temple as he splashed water on your legs, chilling your heated skin. “Just let daddy take care of you.”

You hummed a sleepy, pleased sound, tiredness from the hot day and your afternoon delight with Ari making you want to take a nap. But Ari’s next words had you jerking upright, feeling fully awake.

“I was thinking it might be time to tell your parents about us,” Ari said gently, his hands smoothing over your body, fixing your dress back over your chest and generally trying to keep you calm even as your heart began racing. He seemed to know you were panicking because he turned your face to his over your shoulder and gave you a serious look. “I’m tired of sneaking around, I want to show you off proudly.”

Glancing down at the skimpy little dress you’d worn for the sole purpose of torturing him, you pressed your lips together, trying to hold back your reservations. But you’d been seeing Ari long enough that he knew how to read you—better than you would’ve expected, in fact.

“We don’t have to tell anyone today,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he gave you another serious look. “But I don’t want your father finding out about us at our wedding.”

You gasped—Ari had never mentioned marriage before and it came as a surprise, even if you’d been seeing him for almost a year. Your body clenched in delight, which meant your pussy tightened around Ari’s cock and he stirred within you. He narrowed his eyes at you in an expression that told you he wouldn’t be distracted by your body.

As much as you were able, you turned to Ari and cupped his face in your hands, your fingers sinking into his thick beard. “We’ll tell him together, next week,” you promised, leaning up and kissing Ari. “Can we have a spring wedding, daddy?” you asked sweetly when you pulled away.

Ari chuckled and squeezed you in his arms. “You know I can’t resist giving you what you want, buttercup,” he said by way of an answer, laughing harder when you squealed with happiness. He caught your lips in a messy kiss, his laughter devolving into a moan when you rocked your hips in his lap, grinding on his cock until he was thick and hard inside you again.

For the rest of the afternoon, you stayed with Ari in that secret garden, indulging in each other’s bodies beneath the spring sunshine until it grew late and you were forced to part.

A week later, you and Ari sat your parents down at their home over brunch and confessed to your secret relationship. Though your father was shocked, Ari explaining his intention to marry you seemed to go a long way to soothe any ruffled feathers. By the end of the meal, your parents were happy for you, and your father looked genuinely pleased to be welcoming his boss into the family.

A year later, on a warm—but not unseasonably so—spring day, you married Ari on the terrace at his country house in front of all your friends and family. The reception was held there as well, and as the afternoon turned to evening, you and your new husband slipped away from the party for a little while. You snuck down the stairs to the grounds, running hand in hand to that secret place in the garden where the two of you might be alone.

Beneath the stars, in your secret garden, you came together, for the first time as husband and wife, and you couldn’t have been happier.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x you #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #witchywithwhiskeywork #buckets-and-trees

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fragileheartbeats · 5 days

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

♡ ⭒ㅤ𓈒 ベビードール ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ㅤ྄

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐻 𝑆 𝑅 𝑀 𝑒 𝑛 𝑥 𝐹 𝑒 𝑚 𝑅 𝑒 𝑎 𝑑 𝑒 𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

♡ㅤ𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝅄ㅤೀ

— 𝘋𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘯𝘨, 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘈𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰, 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 <3

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! I got this idea after seeing some cute arts of them as baby dolls like Pinocchio and honestly that was so cute and I just had to write something about it. Also you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆 | 丹恒 ─ 𓇼 . ♡𝆬

You gently braided his long, silky hair, carefully weaving in tiny flowers to adorn his cute horns. He sat beside you, his eyes fixed on the floor, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "You look beautiful," you said, admiring your handiwork. He stiffened slightly, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I-I-I'm not beautiful," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. You chuckled softly, reaching out to gently pat his head. "Oh, but you are. You're the most adorable creature I've ever laid eyes on." He shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting with his fingers. "Y-you really think so?" "Of course!" You exclaimed, unable to contain your affection for him. "You're precious, and so so adorable." He glanced up at you, his eyes wide with surprise and a hint of something else I couldn't quite place. "Th-thank you," he murmured shyly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You smiled back, feeling your heart swell with warmth. "You're welcome, my little darling."

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 | 星期日 ─ 𔒌 . ♡𝆬

You were sitting on the sofa with your doll, his soft, silky gray hair cascading over his shoulders and his golden eyes twinkling with warmth. His cute wings fluttered slightly as he spoke, his angelic voice filling the room with a soothing melody. "I read a lovely story today," he said, the tiny wings on his head twitching with excitement. He gently held your hand, his touch warm and comforting. "It was about an angel who fell in love with a human." "Oh? That sounds interesting," you replied, smiling as you gently stroked his delicate wings. "Tell me more about it." He shifted closer, his small body practically vibrating with excitement. "The angel was very dignified and benevolent, just like all angels are supposed to be. But he couldn't help falling for a human who was kind and beautiful." You listened intently, your heart swelling with affection for this little creature who always tried to help you and make you happy. He continued, his voice filled with wonder and a happiness. "The angel admired her from afar, always wanting to be near her, to protect her. And even though he was an angel, he felt very much like a human when he was with her." As he spoke, you couldn't help but notice the way his golden eyes sparkled, the way his small hands clung to yours just a bit tighter. "You know," he said shyly, "the woman in the story was described as beautiful. And... I think you look just like her." You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Oh, do I now?" He nodded earnestly, his cheeks turning a rosy pink. "Yes, you do. You're beautiful, just like the woman in the story." Touched by his sincerity, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Thank you, my little angel. You're very sweet." His wings fluttered happily, and he let out a soft, contented sigh. "I'm glad you think so." You continued to gently pamper his wings, feeling their soft feathers beneath your fingers. "You know, I think the angel in the story was very lucky to find someone so wonderful to love." He looked up at you, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I think so too," he whispered, his voice filled with happiness.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 | 砂金 ─ 𓐐𓎩 . ♡𝆬

As you sat on the floor of your cozy living room, your doll with his hat perched atop his head bounced excitedly in front of you. He was full of energy, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he eagerly shuffled the deck of cards for your game. "Alright, little darling, ready to play some cards?" you asked with a smile, reaching out to ruffle his soft hair. He nodded eagerly, his tiny hands practically vibrating with excitement. "Yep! I'm gonna win all the candy!" he declared, determination shining in his eyes. You chuckled at his enthusiasm, knowing full well that he had a knack for winning every game he played. But you were happy to indulge him, enjoying the playful competition between the two of you. Sure enough, as the game progressed, he seemed to have luck on his side, winning hand after hand with a gleeful grin on his face. Each time he triumphed, he would let out a delighted squeal, his joy infectious. Finally, when the game was over, he proudly gathered up his winnings – a colorful array of candy that he had won fair and square. With a triumphant whoop, he rushed over to you, his arms laden with sweets. "Look what I got, look what I got!" he exclaimed, plopping down on your lap and nestling his head against your chest like a contented kitten. You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his hair as he eagerly tore open the wrappers and began to devour his prize. Between bites, he began to chatter excitedly, his words tumbling out in a rush as he shared his dreams and aspirations with you. "I wanna see the world with you, and try all sorts of fun stuff together!" he exclaimed between mouthfuls of candy. "We can go on adventures and play games and eat lots and lots of candy! And no matter where we go, I'll always stay by your side." You smiled at his enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through your heart at his infectious excitement. "That sounds like a wonderful plan, little darling." As he continued to talk, his words slowly growing quieter as sleep began to tug at his eyelids, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the adorable little doll nestled in your arms.

"I...I love you," he managed to whisper, his voice barely audible.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, whispering softly, "I love you too, little one. I'll never leave you." With a contented sigh, he snuggled closer to you, his breathing growing steady and even as he drifted off to sleep. You held him close, rocking him gently as you listened to the soft sound of his breathing, feeling grateful for the precious moments you shared together.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎 | 真理医生 ─ 𓇢𓆸 . ♡𝆬

As you were chopping vegetables, your hand slipped, and you accidentally cut yourself. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, and you quickly grabbed a paper towel to stop the bleeding. Hearing the noise, he looked up from his book, his frown deepening when he saw you holding your hand. "What did you do now, you idiot?" he snapped, hopping down from his chair and marching over to you. You winced but couldn't help but smile at his reaction. "I cut myself," you admitted, showing him the small, bleeding wound. He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Of course you did. You really are stupid sometimes." Despite his harsh words, he gently took your hand and led you to the sink. He carefully washed the cut, his tiny hands surprisingly gentle and precise. He grumbled the entire time, but there was a softness in his touch that belied his words. After cleaning the wound, he fetched a bandage from the first aid kit. "Hold still," he ordered, his cheeks slightly pink as he concentrated on wrapping the bandage around your finger. His little frown was adorable, and you couldn't help but find his concern endearing. Once he was done, he let go of your hand and stepped back, crossing his arms and glaring at you. "There. Try not to be so careless next time." You chuckled, touched by his care despite his prickly demeanor. "Thank you," you said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. His eyes widened, and his face turned a deep shade of red. "W-what are you doing? Idiot!" he stuttered, his usual cold exterior crumbling in the face of his embarrassment. He turned on his heel and bolted out of the kitchen, his little legs carrying him quickly to his room. You couldn't help but laugh, watching him go.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 | 刃 ─ 𖤣𖥧 . ♡𝆬

As you cried softly, you didn't notice him coming down from his room, his stomach probably leading him in search of food. He stood there for a moment, watching you with his big, expressive eyes. Then, breaking the silence, he spoke in his soft, almost whisper-like voice. "Why are you crying?" You jumped, startled by his unexpected presence. "Oh! You scared me," you said, quickly wiping your tears away and trying to compose yourself. He ignored your response and came to sit beside you on the couch, his cat plushie nestled under one arm and his sword balanced on his lap. His eyes, filled with concern, searched your face. "Why are you crying?" he repeated, his tone more insistent. You sighed, knowing you couldn't hide your feelings from him. "I just had a really bad day," you admitted, your voice trembling. He looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly and tentatively, he reached out and caressed your head with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Everything will be okay," he said quietly. His touch shocked you—it was the first time he had ever initiated contact. You blinked, tears still pooling in your eyes, but now for a different reason. His small hand, though a bit awkward, was incredibly comforting. "Thank you," you whispered, the warmth of his touch soothing your troubled heart. He nodded, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink, though his face remained mostly stoic. "Don't cry anymore," he said, his voice a little firmer, though there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. You couldn't help but smile through your tears. "I'll try," you promised. He nodded again and then, much to your surprise, settled closer to you, his cat plushie pressed between the two of you. He didn't say anything more, but his presence was enough to lift your spirits.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

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httpswritings · 3 days

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if you were my little girl: the series part 2

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

Silent Guardian

The days blurred into a kaleidoscope of drills, sprints, and the comforting thud of the ball against your foot. But there was a new element to your routine – Alexia. True to her word, she started attending your training sessions, a silent guardian on the sidelines. Your heart would skip a beat every time you saw her, a jolt of encouragement coursing through you with each approving nod.

The facade held. Your parents, wary of an audience, behaved with a semblance of normalcy in public, so Alexia's suspicion of you being in danger faded.

Every goal you scored, every perfectly weighted pass, was a victory not just on the scoreboard, but over the darkness that lurked within your home. Alexia's cheers, a joyful eruption amidst the roar of the crowd, were a balm to your little but damaged self.

Alexia couldn't help but watch you closely. The way you reacted to the world, how certain things seemed to touch you more deeply than others, it tugged at her heart. It wasn't a weakness she saw, but a tenderness that made her want to stand between you and anything that might cause you pain.

Silence Breaks the Bond

The months blurred into a kaleidoscope of drills, sprints, and the comforting thud of the ball against your foot. But on the sidelines of your victories, a different reality waited. Your parents, physically present, were emotionally absent. Empty lunchboxes on the counter remained a daily reminder of their disinterest, a stark contrast to the cheers echoing from the training grounds.

They didn't care about your school life neither did they help you with your homework.

To be fair, they seemed like normal stressed parents worried about work and paying bills.

They were ghosts, navigating their own anxieties, leaving you to navigate yours alone.

You started doing bad at school.

Failed exams, no homework done, complains from teachers, etc.

At the tender age of seven, the world of learning seemed to have lost its allure, replaced by a growing sense of disillusionment.

The once-sparkling curiosity that had defined you was now dimmed, replaced by a veil of melancholy. The vibrant colors of your childhood were fading, replaced by a somber gray that mirrored the turmoil within you, grappling with a burden that seemed too heavy for your young shoulders to bear.

Alexia became a source of unexpected pressure. She'd noticed your withdrawal and failing grades, her playful questions morphing into a worried insistence you tell her what was wrong. You longed to confide in her, but the trauma remained a locked vault within you. Your silence, fueled by fear and confusion, was misinterpreted by Alexia as defiance. The frustration simmered in her eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth you once knew. The unspoken words hung heavy between you, a heartbreaking consequence of your unspoken pain.

Alexia's words hit you harder than any punishment your parents could dish out. Her disappointment, a word laced with hurt, echoed in the empty space where your secret pain resided. The fear you'd been holding back morphed into a suffocating dread. "Letting her down" felt like a betrayal, a confirmation that your silence had pushed away the one person you trusted. The weight of guilt settled on your shoulders. Maybe Alexia was right. Maybe you were just being a brat, making everything worse. But the truth, the darkness you couldn't speak of, felt like an insurmountable wall, isolating you further.

A Sanctuary Built for Two

The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the training field, mirroring the intensity of the practice session. Drills were brutal, pushing you to your physical and mental limits. But amidst the exhaustion, a memory, a dark tendril from the buried trauma, surfaced unexpectedly. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the image of the coach barking orders, his voice a distant echo.

The memory was vivid – your mother's hand, rough and unforgiving, twisting into your hair. You tasted salt, tears mixing with the remnants of uneaten food. Your whimpers, a desperate plea, were lost in the chaos of the moment. It was a recurring scene, one you'd desperately tried to compartmentalize, to bury deep within the recesses of your mind.

You stumbled, legs weak, vision obscured by a veil of tears. A hand, strong and steady, caught you before you could hit the ground. It was Alexia, her concern etched on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with urgency. But you couldn't speak. The words wouldn't come, trapped behind a lump in your throat that constricted your breathing.

Alexia didn't need words to understand. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, a silent haven in the midst of the chaos. She gently held your body on her arms and took you to the coolness of the locker room, a sanctuary away from the prying eyes on the field.

The locker room was a stark contrast to the sun-drenched field. Here, shadows clung to the corners, and the air hung heavy with the lingering scent of sweat and disinfectant. Alexia ushered you onto a bench, its worn leather cool against your burning skin.

For what felt like an eternity, you were unable to speak. Sobs wracked your small frame, your only sound a desperate struggle for air. But Alexia didn't push, didn't force you to talk. Instead, she sat beside you, a silent anchor in the storm.

"Breathe, little one, breathe," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "I'm here. I'm here." Her words, a gentle mantra, slowly coaxed you back from the precipice. Slowly, your sobs subsided, replaced by ragged gasps for breath.

Tears continued to stream down your face, but they were different now, cleansed of the initial terror.

Alexia didn't insult you for crying. Alexia didn't hit you.

Alexia was different.

Building a Safe Haven

Alexia, staring at your failing grades and withdrawn demeanor, felt a pang of something deeper than disappointment. It was a dawning realization – a fear that maybe everyone, including her, had been failing you. Here you were, at the tender age of seven, already burdened by a weight no child should carry.

The love she held for you, a love stronger than she ever anticipated, twisted with a fierce protectiveness. She saw the spark in your eyes dimming, replaced by a dull ache of something unspoken. Maybe, she thought, the answer wasn't pushing you harder, but stepping back. Allowing you the space to simply be a child, to rediscover the joy of scraped knees and silly jokes, just like she had done when she was younger.

It was a humbling thought, an admission that her initial approach, fueled by worry, had missed the mark entirely. Perhaps, the greatest act of love wouldn't be pushing you towards some perceived potential, but creating a safe haven where you could just be you.

The smell of betrayal

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of another grueling practice. Relief battled with exhaustion as you slumped against the fence. Alexia appeared with her her usual bright smile, joined by Mapi and Ingrid.

She reached out for her almost daily hug, the one you always cherished. But this time, the familiar warmth was tainted by a sickeningly sweet, fermented odor. It hit you like a physical blow. You pulled back abruptly, your nose scrunched in disgust.

"You smell weird," you blurted out, the words laced with a coldness you didn't recognize in yourself.

Alexia faltered, her smile collapsing. "Oh," she chuckled nervously, "it's just... well, the season's over, and I, uh, had a celebratory sip of beer with the team."

Mapi said something to you but you weren't able to hear it.

It wasn't the beer itself. You didn't know the taste, even if you had witnessed countless nights where your parents drowned their sorrows in amber liquid. But the smell – that was the monster. It was the reeking ghost of countless nights spent huddled in fear, the acrid air clinging to furniture and clothes, a constant reminder of a childhood that was being stolen by addiction.

The love you held for Alexia battled with the rising tide of anger and despair. "Well, you can go so you can keep celebrating," you muttered, your voice flat.

"No! But I...I wanted to introduce you to Mapi and Ingrid! They couldn't wait anymore to meet you!" Her voice trailed off, lost in the chasm that had suddenly opened between you.

You stared at her, the playful glint in your eyes replaced by a steely glint of hurt. Your usual tenderness, the very quality that drew you to Alexia, had vanished, replaced by a wall you didn't even know you could build. The damage was done. The smell of beer had become a cruel reminder that you couldn't escape that substance, because you'll find it in every adult.

The silence stretched on, heavy and awkward. You poked a hole in the dirt with your shoe, the playful glint in your eyes replaced by a frown. Alexia's happy face seemed to wilt under your scrutiny. You didn't want to hurt her feelings, but the yucky beer smell clung to her like a bad memory.

"Maybe," you mumbled, kicking another clump of dirt, "grown-ups aren't supposed to smell like yucky beer. Maybe they're supposed to smell like, like..." you scrunched your nose, searching for the right words, "...like cookies!"

Alexia's cheeks flushed red. You weren't sure if it was from the beer or because you'd caught her in something you considered bad. It made you feel even grumpier. Cookies! That's how grown-ups should smell, not like something that makes your tummy feel poorly, thinking how you always witnessed your parents throwing up.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in your head. You puffed out your chest, trying to look as grown-up as possible. "Maybe," you declared, sticking your chin out, "I don't need hugs anymore. Maybe I don't need anyone who smells like yucky beer!"

A big, fat tear rolled down your cheek. You hated crying, but the words just tumbled out before you could stop them. Alexia knelt down slowly, her eyes filled with a sadness that made you feel a tiny bit bad. Alexia realized something must had to happened to you to be so disgusted by beer.

"Hey," she said softly, wiping away your tear with her thumb. "It's okay to be mad. But remember," she held out a finger with a sparkly ring on it, "I'll always be here for you, even if I mess up. Pinky promise?"

You hesitated, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. But all you wanted right now was to go inside, hug your stuffed bear, and pretend the bad smells and confusing grown-up things didn't exist.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Alexia. "Maybe," you whispered, barely audible, "maybe you could smell like cookies tomorrow?"

Alexia's smile was small, but it reached her eyes. It wasn't the usual bright smile, but it had a spark of understanding. "Cookies sounds delicious," she said, ruffling your hair gently.

The Most Important Match Of All

The car door slammed shut, the harsh sound echoing in the otherwise quiet street. Alexia watched the taillights of your parents' car disappear around the corner, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. You had left, a small figure dwarfed by the backseat, your face a mask of conflicting emotions.

She turned to Mapi and Ingrid, their faces etched with concern mirroring her own. "I wasn't expecting her to be so upset," Alexia confessed, her voice a low murmur.

Mapi, ever the pragmatist, offered a tentative smile. "Maybe she's just shy, Ale. Kids can be like that sometimes, especially around new people."

But Alexia shook her head, a flicker of doubt clouding Mapi's optimistic facade. “No, this feels different. She was so excited about the idea of meeting you. Then, the second she noticed the smell of alcohol...“ Her voice trailed off, the memory of your sudden withdrawal a fresh wound.

A pang of guilt shot through Alexia. She had been so focused on nurturing your talent on the field, on pushing you towards your potential, on making you her heir to La Reina title, that she might have missed something crucial. Had she been too blindsided by her own ambition, neglecting to see the emotional landscape of your life?

Ingrid, the quiet observer of the group, stepped forward. Her eyes, usually so calm, held a steely glint. "There's something more going on, Alexia. I can feel it in my gut. Her parents seem...well, normal from the outside. Polite, hardworking. But that doesn't mean things are sunshine and rainbows behind closed doors."

Shame washed over her. She had prided herself on being your mentor, your confidante, yet she had failed to see the silent cries for help. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow. Here she was, a celebrated athlete, yet she had fumbled the most important match of all.

"Maybe you're right," Alexia admitted, the words hollow in her mouth. The past few months flickered past her inner eye – your dwindling appetite, the exhaustion clinging to you like a shadow, the plummeting grades that you brushed off as a temporary dip. Signs she had chosen to ignore, attributing them solely to the pressure of training.

Taking a deep breath, Alexia pushed the self-pity aside. You were home with your parents, and that was where you had to be for now. But a fierce determination ignited within her. Things were about to change. She would find a way to bridge the gap, to create a safe space where the mask could finally fall away. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time, Alexia wasn't just looking at you as a prodigy with boundless potential. She saw you for who you truly were – a vulnerable child in need of support, a child she wouldn't fail again

The price of cookies

The warmth of freshly baked cookies, a pact between Alexia and you, still lingered in the air whenever she was around. Yet, a subtle transformation had taken root. The once jovial mentor had morphed into a vigilant sentinel. Her gaze, once playful, now held an undercurrent of suspicion, scanning your surroundings like a hawk. Every interaction, every word exchanged with someone new, was dissected with a silent intensity.

The incident from the other day had shattered the illusion of a seemingly perfect world. The realization that normalcy, like a facade, could conceal a hidden darkness gnawed at Alexia. It felt like a betrayal, not just of her trust, but of the haven she'd meticulously built for you – a world where football was a source of joy, not a potential escape route. Memories of scraped knees and goofy jokes now felt like faded photographs tucked away in a forgotten album. In their place, Alexia had constructed an invisible shield around you, a desperate attempt to ward off the world's harsh realities.

What words can't describe

Alexia gnawed on her lip, her stomach a tightly wound knot. Building trust with your parents felt like navigating a minefield. It was essential, she knew, but the thought of putting on a facade left a bitter taste in her mouth. Yet, when your parents invited her over for dinner, a forced smile flickered on her lips as she accepted.

Stepping into your apartment, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over her. It was normal. Two bedrooms, a comfortable living room bathed in warm light, and even a small balcony overlooking a quiet street. Relief battled with the nagging suspicion that had taken root in her mind. Everything was clean and tidy, a picture of domestic normalcy that clashed with the unease she couldn't quite shake.

The sight of you, however, brought a genuine smile to her face. Your eyes held a spark of joy that had been missing for weeks, and a wave of protectiveness washed over her. She followed you to your room, the air thick with the sweet scent of childhood. This was your sanctuary, your safe space. Pink and white walls were adorned with a mishmash of treasures: a menagerie of stuffed animals, a rainbow of storybooks, and a collection of dolls in various states of wear and tear.

One doll, however, stood out. A Nancy doll, the limited edition modeled after the Spanish National Team, held a prominent place on your shelf. Alexia felt a tug at her heartstrings.

"That's you," you said shyly, your cheeks dusted with a rosy blush.

Alexia's heart melted.

She didn't know how she got to the point where she felt an overwhelming love for you.

Glancing at the opposite wall, her gaze softened even more. There, proudly displayed on a corkboard, were your artistic creations. Football pitches in vibrant greens and blues, colorful caricatures of your friends, a self-portrait with a gap-toothed grin, and a collection of drawings that featured a prominent figure – Alexia herself, rendered in all her glory (or at least, your interpretation of it).

"That's also you," you said, pointing at a drawing of her mid-dribble, a determined expression etched on her face.

A warm chuckle escaped Alexia's lips. "I'm starting to feel like a permanent resident here!" she joked, the sweetness of your gesture a balm to her worry.

"I could make you a real one," you offered, tilting your head with a hopeful smile. "A drawing, I mean."

The offer felt like a lifeline tossed in a stormy sea. "I'd love that.”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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lovekendri · 1 year

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inexperienced | peeta mellark

request: hey! can you do headcanons or a fic about your first time, um, “doing the deed” with peeta? or like how he would be with someone who’s inexperienced. thank you! i love your writing 🤍 - anon

omg i love this! thank you so much for the request AND being my first request!! i'm a bit newer to writing smut, so i hope it lives up to your expectations! ♡

peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: it's your first time, and your boyfriend, peeta, is determined to make sure your first time is magical.

cw: 18+ only! fluffy smut, p in v, soft and hard dom!peeta, inexperienced!reader, established relationship, first time, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

wc: 2.9k

type: ✽ | ❀

As you poured another glass of a fancy sparkling pomegranate juice to end off the bottle, you tossed it into the bin next to the table and walked yourself over to the couch where Haymitch and Peeta sat, the room still buzzing with other District 12 residents.

The television was on, playing some sort of instrumental music, but you could barely hear it over the chatter in the room.

Haymitch and Peeta were deep in conversation about Haymitch's new relationship with Effie, and you've never seen Haymitch look so happy to talk about something.

You sat down next to Peeta, and you could tell he was ready to leave soon, probably after he finished the conversation.

You had indulged in homemade bread from Peeta with oil and vinegar all night, as well as fresh berries picked from the bushes in front of your house with the sparkling juice, and you were starting to get tired of eating to cure the boredom.

You had followed Peeta around all night like a lost puppy, and it wasn't a good look for you, but you were ready to go home after a few conversations.

"I personally didn't expect Effie to be your first choice," Peeta snorted, "I thought she drove you crazy."

Instead of paying attention to the rest of the conversation like you should've, you began to fully admire your boyfriend for the first time all night.

He wore a gray button up with the top two buttons undone, the sleeves tucked up around his forearms. It was tucked into a pair of blue jeans that appeared slightly too tight, the fabric straining against his legs. Finishing off the outfit with a brown belt. He sat manspreading, holding a bottle of something you couldn't see, the logo hidden in his hands, but you knew it wasn't alcohol.

Looking at him tonight brought a different feeling to your chest and stomach, an odd, tingly feeling you hadn't very much felt before around him. Watching him talk, watching his lips move as he responded to Haymitch, the nod of approvals he would give.

"But anyways, you two better get going," Haymitch said as you tuned in to the conversation once again, standing up from the old couch you all sat on. It was getting later in the night, and you were thankful for him to say that, as it was almost one in the morning.

Peeta stood up as well, taking your hand to help you up from sinking into the couch.

"Alright, good to see you," Haymitch said, giving Peeta a small hug, and clapping him on the back, like a brother would do.

Haymitch turned to you, and reached out for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a short hug before pulling away from him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, probably," you said, smiling, subtly reminding Haymitch of your lunch plans tomorrow.

"Of course you will, sweetheart," he gave you a small clap on the back, weaker than Peeta's, but still a loving tap. A small lopsided smile appeared on his face and he turned away.

"You ready to go?" Peeta asked, looking down at you.

His eyes were trained on you, reminding you of what you felt just seconds ago about the tingling of your stomach and the tightness in your chest.

"Yeah," you smiled, trying to hide the fact you could feel the blush creeping up your face as you looked past him toward the coat rack near the door.

He grabbed your hand once again, grabbing your coat and slinging it over your shoulders, not bothering to have you put it on when you're a mere twenty feet away from his house.

You waved goodbye to any people who were paying attention at the slowly dying party, and walked out the door, hand in hand with Peeta.

"You enjoy the juice?" he asked as you reached the sidewalk, playfully giving you a little shove to the shoulder to knock you off balance a bit.

"You know I did," you replied, recovering your feet and taking his muscular arm in both of your hands. The crisp, cool air of the night nipped at your cheeks, and the leftover snow from the recent fall crunched beneath your feet.

It was a short walk, and by now you were at the door of Peeta's house. He took the keys out of his pocket to unlock his front door. The light over the door was still on, coating the walkway you stood on in a dim, yellow light.

"You looked beautiful tonight," he said as he unlocked the door, pushing in the door with more force than intended.

"Thank you, you looked rather handsome yourself," you replied, hearing a small chuckle escape his throat at your comment.

Without bothering to turn on the lights, he walked through the living room to reach his bedroom, and you ran inside before him to kick off your shoes and jump on his bed.

The softness of the mattress engulfed your body, and you rolled into the knitted quilt on top of his bed.

Tonight felt like a cuddling night, but something about the air felt different.

"Save some room for me," he said, having just taken off his shoes.

The feeling you had earlier watching him rose in your body again as he set his knee on the edge of the bed, climbing over to your side and collapsing next to you with a hand on your hip.

You turned to your side, throwing a side of the quilt on top of him.

"There's plenty of room for you," you said, looking down past his jaw. You saw the same outfit as before, but now his belt was slightly looser, his shirt half untucked. You tried your best to avoid looking toward his jeans, but you didn't have to force yourself anyways.

"Eyes are up here, darling," Peeta's hand reached out gently to your jaw, lifting your face to look at him.

Your face heating up immediately, you made eye contact with him. A small grin was growing on his face, a cheeky smirk you'd seen so often. He kissed you with the same pecks he always did when you were cuddling, but even after you'd kissed him hundreds of times the same way, you couldn't shake the feeling that something felt different tonight.

Doing your best to ignore the prying thought, you snuggled up to his warm body, basically steam rolling him to get on top of him. You laid on top of him, one of his hands loosely around your waist and the other lightly stroking your back. Your arms hooked under his.

After a while of laying in silence listening to each other breathe, you started to close your eyes, letting comfort and sleep take you over. Just as you began to feel the entire pull of sleep, you felt him sharply exhale. He dug his face into the crook of your neck at the same time his hand grabbed tightly onto your hip.

"You've never had sex, have you?" he murmured lowly.

The question startled you, increasing your heartbeat and waking you from any slumber that started to take you over. You turned your face into his neck as well, too embarrassed to lift your head and face him when you felt the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Is this what felt different? Did the air feel different because Peeta wanted to have sex with you?

"Absolutely," you say, the uneasiness in your voice a dead giveaway that you most definitely have not.

He knew you, he knew you hadn't. In fact, he knew that he was the only boy you had ever dated, the only boy who you'd ever kissed.

"Oh, really?" he says, his hands sliding from where they rested to lightly graze over the back of your thighs and your ass, one hand giving a light squeeze to your thigh.

A barely audible but obviously desperate exhale escaped your lips, your head dropping down completely to his shoulder.

He had never touched you like this before. Butterflies were exploding in your stomach, your chest and throat growing tighter as he continued to move his hand over the hills of your body.

"I thought so, baby," he whispered. "It's okay."

He didn't stop moving his hand, but his head dropped back down to the bed, an exhale leaving his own lips.

"Would you let me be your first time?" he said breathily, his hand moving up to rub over your back once again.

You felt like you couldn't say anything, your throat feeling so closed with his hands touching you in ways you'd never felt before, the feeling of his rough hands stroking across your body was enough to send you spiraling.

He noticed your silence, moving his hands to sit up. You refused to let go of your tight hold on his body, trying to catch your breath from the unnecessarily overwhelming feeling blossoming in your stomach.

"C'mon, baby. Talk to me," he whispered.

"Please, Peeta," your voice came out strangled. It didn't sound like your own, plagued by the tightness of your throat and the desperate want for him to touch you like he was before.

It took him a moment to register what you said.

"That's my girl."

His hands reached up to your arms, gently prying them away from his body in order to get you off of him.

He laid you gently on the bed, and you felt like a total mess. You knew you shouldn't be so obsessed with the way he was making you feel, but it felt so right to be touched by him, to be held in the erotic ways you didn't know he wanted.

He was on top of you, his arms out straight and his legs on the outside of yours blocked a cage around your body. You were in for it now.

At first though, he only kissed you.

The low light of the room added to the needy ambiance of the room. Kissing felt more erotic, less controlled, the way his lips moved familiarly but yet so foreign at the same time, the soft dominancy from him that you'd never felt before threatening to take you over. The way he would stop to take a short breath before continuing to kiss you, sometimes biting your lip as he pulled away. When you felt one of his hands creep up your hips onto your breasts, it was an explosion of feelings you hadn't had before.

Your gasp almost breaking the kiss, you felt him grin against your lips as his hand slipped under your shirt to run it over your torso.

His touch was so gentle, so polite, allowing you to feel the entire moment of what he was doing to you. Again though, it was so different from ways he had touched you before. So new and arousing.

His kisses began to trail down your cheek to your jaw, down your neck, and back up to your lips. He kissed you all over the neck, anywhere he could.

You felt so many butterflies and tingles in your stomach, and a warm heat between your thighs growing as he touched you more, lips and hands working in unison to sweetly prepare you.

His hand now moving down to pull the waistband of your pants ever so slightly down, pausing his kisses. He took the moment to move a knee between your legs, giving them a little nudge to open.

His eyes met yours, darkened with arousal and excitement. His lips were swollen and slick with saliva, his cheeks a light rosy tint.

"You ready?" he murmured, watching your face closely.

Though you were so nervous, you were eager.

You wanted this to happen, the more he touched you and the more he caressed your body allowed to the heat between your legs to grow, the unfamiliar tingles and butterflies in your stomach fluttered with anticipation. He was all you ever dreamt of, and the way his eyes bored into yours with lust and hungriness, you were as ready as you'd ever be.

"Yes," you forced out, the constriction of your throat still very prominent.

You watched as the grin on his face grew to a sinister smile, his eyes squinting with pride. He removed your pants with such swiftness you'd barely noticed, and he took the time to admire your bottomless body. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but something he got to see in a totally different manner.

He exhaled sharply, pushing a rough hand into your panties, a finger sliding through slick folds.

He wasn't near being inside you, but the first few circles around your clit felt like heaven, your mouth opening in shock and a strangled gasp forcing its way through. A white heat began to grow in your stomach quickly, and you pushed your head into the softness of the bed.

"Attagirl," he whispered, praise quickly falling out of his mouth as he watched you squirm underneath his fingers.

A slick finger suddenly pushed through you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. His fingers worked magic on your clit while he pushed his finger in and out of you.

"Yeah, baby?"

Heat, heat, and more heat grew, the pleasure becoming almost overwhelming under your boyfriend's control, the praises coming out of his stupidly pretty face driving your body insane.

Gasps sweetened with whimpers and small moans fell out of your mouth like a sailor's cusses, your eyes screwed shut as Peeta worked your body perfectly. In no time, he pushed in a second finger, earning a loud gasp and a grab to his forearm, his legs tightening around your leg to keep you from wiggling away.

"You feelin' good, love?" he whispered. You could hear the curl of his evil smile, absolutely delighted to be making you feel the way you were. You desperately nodded your head, your grip on his arm growing tighter as the heat in your stomach grew, an overwhelming feeling threatening to fall.

He felt your walls beginning to tighten, and pulled his fingers out.

"Why?" you whined, the feeling in your stomach immediately dripping down to the small heat you had before. You grabbed for his hand, wanting him to make you feel amazing again, but he pulled it away from you.

"No, sweetheart, I want you to experience more than just my hand."

You watched as he undid the rest of his belt from before, your jaw falling open slightly in shock as he unbuttoned his jeans, undoing the zipper as well. His black boxers showed through the small opening in his pants now, and you could see what he was hiding beneath them.

"You okay?" he asked, aware of your jaw now basically on the floor. You nodded at his question, snapping your jaw shut once again.

Your face was hot, your body was shaking a little. You were so ready in anticipation of how he was going to make you feel. You didn't dare look at him, because you knew that you were basically going to finish at just the sight.

"You're sure you're ready?" he said, a hand holding steady on your hip and the other you could only assume holding his cock.

You nodded, your hands going to the quilt for a hold on something, your body beginning to tense.

"Good girl."

You felt him push into you.

A loud gasp pushed from your throat, your body jerking in surprise. He definitely filled you out, your eyes rolling back and heat beginning to grow again.

"What's wrong?" he said, the concerned tone in his voice loud, keeping still inside you.

"No, no, keep going," you whined, your eyes screwing shut.

He began to move slowly, only pushing in a few inches every time, preparing you for the full.

The friction felt so good, quiet moans falling out of your mouth as he pushed more and more inside of you, growing faster with each movement of his hips.

He pushed all the way into you, hitting a spot that sent white heat coursing through your body, electrifying, your vision blanked.

He dragged his cock out once again, pushing all the way inside of you once more.

The tingly heat grew quickly in your stomach as he found a medium pace, cock sliding easily in and out of your cunt with his hands gripping tightly on your hips.

"You look so pretty underneath me," he praised, so close to pushing you over the edge.

Uncontrolled moans forced themselves out of your throat, the heat building up so close to a release. His hips became sloppier and uncontrolled, his pace increasing as he worked to finish.

With one harsh thrust, your vision went white and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. A loud cry left your mouth as you came, your legs tightening around his hips.

He finished quickly after you, his thrusts extremely sloppy.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed next to you and pulled you into his arms, his body warm. You were both breathing heavily, his muscular arms engulfing you in a blanket of comfort,

"I love you so much," he murmured, tucking his head down, his forehead rested on top of your head.

"I love you," you whispered, "thank you."

He didn't say anything, kissing the top of your head and tightening his arms around your body.

"Thank you, pretty girl."

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plutoswritingplanet · 9 months

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Taking What's Not Yours (Dracule Mihawk x Reader)

a/n: soooooo, there is this pirate warlooooord. basically, i've watched the live action show on Netflix and immediately had to commit a one shot.

Warnings: Pure Smut (i had to get it out of my system), Wall Donging, Use of Alcohol, Stealing, Plotting, Lollygagging, inappropriate use of that cunty cross necklace.

Summary: A misguided attempt at impressing your friend lands you in a very peculiar situation. (cross-posted on AO3)

The bar buzzed with the energy of drunken people. Your throat still burned with the after-taste of the cheapest rum the establishment had to offer, and for a second you've become deeply worried about losing your eyesight, as faint notes of straight methanol registers in your brain. Then, the pleasant buzz hits your nerves like a suffocating blanket, and in one moment you sense all your troubles drifting away. And there has been quite a lot of troubles on your mind lately.

Mainly, the Marines, their presence an annoying nuisance. By no means were you a pirate, no. You searched for freedom in different ways, such as stealing as much, and as often as you could. Money was the driving force of your life, but you'd be lying, if you said it was the only pleasure you seek. The thrill of the chase, of finding that perfect little trinket you can grab, and your victim would be non the wiser. The euphoria of creating distractions in one place, so you can strike like a viper in another. It made your blood boil with excitement incomparable to anything else.

On top of that, besides the occasional confrontation, the Marines simply couldn't identify you. All it took, was a bandana around the lower half of your face, and suddenly you were able to march into a bar, such as this, filled with Marines, and no one would notice. Your eyes fall onto a rather skinny one, the belt of his too big uniform is digging into his waist, betraying how little there actually is of him. He looks back at you, smiles, and joins a group of his friends at one of the tables. You reciprocate the smile with a glint in your eye. The poor bastard doesn't know it was you, who stole an antique photo of his grandma right from his breast pocket.

In your defense, the small frame was made of gold. And damned pretty at that. It fetched you a pretty price too, one you were currently drinking away, waiting for your friend to join you in your efforts of landing under the table by the end of the night.

You barely manage to go through one fourth of the bottle, when they arrive, smile on their face and hair wild from running through the streets. It all goes downhill from there, as stories and alcohol flow freely between the two of you. It's a welcomed distraction from the gray reality of life, a small ray of sunshine in this murky town. They tell you about the latest heist they've pulled, eyes sparkling in the dim light, as they recount a particularly risky part of their daring escape. You snort into your glass, shake your head.

- See, that's where we're different. - you counter, leaning back into your chair - For me, it's all about stealth. In and out, so they won't know when they've been robbed.

Your friend giggles to themselves. The drink in their glass splashes slightly, as they place it forcefully on the table.

- You really think you're that good, huh? - they challenge, and already, you can feel the tingling sensation of excitement at the tips of your fingers.

- I know so.

They furrow their brows, turning towards the crowd currently hounding the bartender. There's a mischievous smirk playing around on their lips, as they turn their attention back to you.

- So, if I were to choose any person here, and told you to steal from them unnoticed, you'd do it?

The absolute gall of this question. Of course, you would. Hell, you'd do it multiple times, until this whole bar was filled with people suddenly missing their belongings. Because nothing compared to the thrill of reaching into someone else's pocket unnoticed.

- You know what? - your eyes run across the gathered crowd, smirk playing around on your lips, as you've spotted your chosen victim. - See that guy in the black coat? The one with the big ass hat. I bet I can get that fancy necklace off of him, in like, three minutes tops.

As you speak, your friend follows your gaze through the Marines, and the pirates, and all the in-betweens. But when their eyes finally land on your target, they freeze in their spot, before rather rudely grabbing your shirt at the collar. Then, so fast, the world starts to spin in front of your eyes, they yank you under the table. Your stomach lurches with protest at the sudden movement. You give your friend a confused shake of your head.

- Do you have any idea, who you're talking about? - they whisper-yell, eyes wide and clearly terrified.

- What, about the hat guy?

Apparently you've said it too loud, because your friend nearly launches themselves at you.

- That's Dracule fucking Mihawk.

From the way they've said the man's name, you gather, it should be at least familiar to you. Unfortunately, you can't say you know much of the world outside of the town, so your confused expression deepens.

- He's like, the biggest deal - Your friend continues, their grip on your shirt loosening slightly - Like, children read stories about him and shit.

- I didn't - you shrug, before rising slightly up, so you can peek from above the table.

The hat man has turned his back to you, his stature rather impressing, as he towers over everyone in the establishment. Your eyes follow the dark lapels of his coat, thief senses greedily gliding over the handle of his sword secured to his back. It's reminiscent of a cross, with gigantic, shiny gems nearly tempting you to do something unwise. Your friend tugs you back down, and your chin scratches on the rough surface of the table.

- What is he, like, a missionary? - you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

- What?

- You know, the cross and all that...

- What kind of missionaries have you been seeing?

Fair point, you think, before risking another peek, against your friend's efforts to pull you down.

The man, Mihawk, takes a long swing from a flagon filled with something you can't really identify. You watch almost greedily, as his Adam's apple moves, when he swallows his drink. Then, your eyes drift to the necklace, nestled on his exposed chest. Gold, real gold, you can see it from here. Another cross, albeit, much simpler, than what he had on his back. A week of drinks, and fancy ones at that flash before your eyes.

- Don't even think about it - your friend warns, finally giving up, and letting go of your shirt.

Your eyes stay fixated on your prize. If you could just see where the clasp of the necklace is...

- Think about what...? - your voice betrays you, and you wet your lips with your tongue in concentration.

- He'll kill you - your friend warns - Like, actually kill you. This is not a man you should fuck with.

At that, you finally tear away, your eyes meeting your friends, a sea of mischief swirling in them.

- Who said anything about fucking? - you say with a wink, and before your friend can say anything else, you rise from your seat.

Taking the half-empty bottle of rum in one, smooth movement, you begin to make your way towards the bar, adding a stumble and a drunken giggle for good measure. The previous ungodly ammounts of liquor circulating your body definitely help with the impression, but you're pleasantly surprised, that your head stays relatively clear. Although, if your target is truly as powerful and dangerous, as your friend makes him out to be, then perhaps you really lost your mind for good. Best not to dwell on it though.

The man barely spares you a glance, as you collide with the bar right next to him, arm brushing against his in a deliberate movement. You make sure to press your chest against the countertop, before waving at the bartender a bit too enthusiastically. The leftover liquor in your bottle sloshes out, landing straight onto the man's chest and lap. At that, he finally moves, annoyance clear in his rigid posture. Traces of liquid fall all the way from his collarbones to the belt buckle of his trousers.

The truly magnificent performance of a drunken, apologetic girl you gave at that moment, would ensure you the entry to the most prestigious acting schools. Your eyes widen comically, as you follow the trajectory of your drink. He barely flinches, as his entire front becomes covered in alcohol, but he does react, as soon as you start apologizing, a lot, your voice quivering as if you're about to burst out crying.

Don't look up, you remind yourself, as your body moves closer to his. You pull down the sleeve of your shirt and reach towards him, trying to dry some of the liquor off his skin. For the split second you manage to make contact, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. He's incredibly warm, his skin pulled taut against prominent muscles. Then, your sleeve reaches the golden necklace.

His arm immediately shoots out, grabbing you by the wrist and nearly shoving you off. It was enough, though. That short moment of contact revealed more than you've bargained for.

- Leave - you truly flinch at the sound of his gravely voice, no acting needed - You've embarrassed yourself quite enough, woman.

Your head nods fervently, hair jumping around your face. He releases your wrist, and you mutter another string of "I'm so sorry, sir". Then, you throw in a sniffle, for good measure, but your treacherous eyes drift upwards, desperate to catch a glimpse of the man's face, as you're only inches from him. Yellow envelops you in an instant, a piercing, unrelenting gaze, which breaks through all your defenses. Your gaze hardens in an instant, challenge rising in your posture like its second nature. One of the man's prominent eyebrows shoot upwards ever so slightly, and you know it's your time to exit the stage.

So you bow your head again and slip past him as quickly, as you physically can. His golden gaze follows you, the feeling of his eyes at the back of your neck makes your shoulders tense. With a stumble, this one not rehearsed, you push past the gathered patrons, until you reach the doors to the restrooms, nearly falling through them, in your haste to remove yourself from this strange situation.

Your body collides with the row of basins, as you lean forward to try and catch your breath. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, the sound of blood rushing through your ears deafening. It's fear, you're aware. You've never been so close to being exposed, no one has ever seen straight through you, and so quickly at that. Chills run the length of your spine with such force you physically cringe.

And then, something else starts to brew in the pit of your stomach. Something that starts at the tips of your fingers, spreading upwards, until it settles in your chest. The magnetic pull of excitement, the danger of a new challenge. Your brain feels hot inside your skull, as you gather all the information you managed to pull out.

The necklace is heavy, but strangely, not as heavy, as solid gold would be. The clasp is sturdy, but small. You could feel it, with how the strap tightened, when you pulled at it. And one more thing. As you tried to "dry" it, the body of the necklace shifted slightly, so you could see the clasp peeking over the man's shoulder. You were almost entirely sure it was one of those old-timey ones. The one, where two halves fit together, incredibly easy to open.

God, you really are going to pull this off. You hype yourself up, in front of the mirror, jumping from leg to leg, like a sportsman ready to fight for their team. Easy. Quiet. In and out. You've done it a thousand times, why would this one be different? After this rather pathetic pep talk, you make up your mind. Splashing some water onto your face, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, determination filling your eyes to the brim.

And then, you're out, the door to the bathroom swings behind you, as you easily blend into the crowd of rowdy patrons. He's almost impossible to miss amongst the ruckus, with his straight posture and that damned hat. There is a plan forming in your head, as you stalk towards him. The unfortunate waiter, with a tray filled with tall beer glasses walks towards you, and with ease, you slide your leg to the side, making him trip right onto the floor.

It creates enough of a distraction for you to smoothly move behind your target, and as he looks over at the screaming crowd, you hand makes its way behind the collar of his coat. With the warmth of his skin just under your fingertips, you touch the clasp of the necklace. It unravels immediately, sliding off of his neck, where, just out of his vision, your other hand waits. The cross lands in your palm just as the man realizes what is happening.

His entire body jerks in your direction, large hands immediately flying towards the gigantic sword on his back. Thankfully, you're faster. Fingers squeeze around the smaller cross, and suddenly all pretense is gone, as you bolt back to the restrooms. You don't stop to check if the man is pursuing you, a flurry of emotions chasing you out of the establishment. Excitement, yes, of course, but mostly impossible to explain fear. In that moment you know, you can't get caught if you want your life to continue.

So, you barrel through the doors to the restroom and immediately jump onto one of the basins. Your hands make quick work opening the small window just below the ceiling, its lock coming undone under the prying of your lockpick. Night air floods the bathroom with the crisp smell of the harbour. Putting all your concentration into athletics, you jump through the small opening, squeezing through. Your shirt catches onto the lock and tears with the force of your body. You land on your face, right into the cobbled street below. Only then do you risk taking the time, and looking around, eyes scanning the dark, as your breath quickens.

Nothing. A dog is barking somewhere, and even from the outside you can hear the sounds of the patrons screaming over each other. For a split second you wonder, if one of the voices belongs to your target, but decide against it. He didn't seem the type to raise his voice. Perhaps that was one of the things, which unsettled you about him.

Tossing the necklace a couple of times in your hand, you observe as the gold shines in the light coming from the lanterns strung out around the city. There, right under the lower half of the cross, you could see a tiny groove. As if it was meant to be unscrewed or something of the sort. Deciding against hanging around in the ark alley right outside the bar, you put the necklace around your neck.

You manage to take about five steps, before some force grabs onto the back of your shirt. A hand twists itself into the torn material, and yanks you back so fast, and so hard, you completely loose balance. The brick wall of the lower part of the bar greets you with sharp pain, the impact knocking the wind out of your lungs. Stars swim in front of your eyes and your stomach twists and turns, as a sudden wave of nausea overcomes you.

Then, all you see is yellow.

He's here, arm pressed right under your chin with unwavering strength, his golden eyes bearing into you, watching you struggle against him. The smell of smoke, seawater and wine engulfs you whole, and suddenly the weight of the stolen necklace on your chest becomes unbearable. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. If you thought you were scared of the strange man before, now you're downright terrified.

- Not many people would dare to steal from me - his voice is steady, almost bored, but your ears pick up on the subtle tone of curiosity - Let alone do so successfully.

Perhaps it's the alcohol in your system, or perhaps your ego has grown much too big, but you almost feel as if the man is impressed.

- Tell me, what is your name? - his arm digs a bit further into your skin before retracting ever so slightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you, that he could do so very easily.

Your tongue darts out to wet you lips, and you will yourself to sound even a fraction less scared than you truly felt.

- I'm nobody - you whisper fervently - I'm nothing. It was a stupid joke, I'm so sorry.

His eyes scan your face, taking in your disheveled hair, the way your eyebrows scrunch together, the way your lips tremble. His gaze slides further down to your panicked pulse running rampant, catching slightly at your heaving chest, before snapping back up. Freezing chills run up and down your body, and your legs kick out slightly, trying to find better footing, to regain some control over the situation. He gives you no such chance, as his arm pushes your neck further into the wall, and as your breath leaves you, your body starts to struggle.

- Nobody. Nothing. And yet you've managed to steal from me - something akin to subdued mirth flashes in his golden irises - If only for a moment.

His other hand rises and your heart stops in your chest, as you feel the tips of his fingers tracing the line of the necklace, from the juncture between your neck and your arm, sliding lower. There is no mistaking the small gasp leaving your lips, when he reaches the heavy cross nestled right on top of your breasts. He taps the goden piece once, twice, before grasping it firmly and giving it a hard yank. The clasp at the back digs painfully into your skin before it gives out, snapping and falling right into his hand.

- You're a curious little thief - his voice lowers, as he inclines his head to look at you closer - For that reason, I'll let you live, this one time. The world needs some chaos, after all.

You expect him to move away, give you space to breathe and disapear into the night. Yet, none of you make a move. Your body stays pinned to the wall, the bricks spreading cold throughout your back. He never retreats, standing firmly in his place, as his arm still presses itself into the crook of your neck. Finally, you risk enough to get a good look at him, from the silky black hair, the perfectly trimmed facial hair and the elegant dip of his collar bones. And, oh, his pupils are dilated. For the first time, you discover a change in his unrelenting gaze.

The gold retracts, giving way to the swallowing blackness of his pupil, as his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the situation at hand. You'd be confused too, if you didn't feel the tell-tale buzzing forming in your guts, low in your stomach. Your tongue darts out again, wetting your lips, and with undeniable satisfaction you watch his gaze flicker downwards.

- Is there something else you want? - his eyes snap back up at the husky tone of your voice, and you give him just a tiny ghost of a smirk.

He recoils immediately, albeit, never taking the arm off of your body.

- I am not some teenage boy who can't control his urges - he sounds almost offended, as he straightens himself, and fixes you with a stern glare.

Too bad. His previous slip-up has already filled your head with devious ideas, which in turn, sparked a sudden flame of confidence. So, with a self-assured smile, you lean back, finally finding your footing, only to raise one of your legs, purposefully running your calf the length of his thigh. His breath hitches ever so slightly, evident more by the movement of his Adam's apple, than any sound. Then, you reach your prize, your knee knocking into something that could only be described as a sizeable erection.

- My research says otherwise, sir. - you counter with a pointed look, and the man before you freezes in his spot.

Time seems to slow down and stretch like taffy, as the man continues to stare at you, thoughts running through his head. Oh, how much you'd give to know them all. Will he kill you, you wonder as your eyes dart around the small creases forming on his forehead. Will he kiss you, his lips are parted and invitingly plush. Will there be more, your eyes follow the lines of muscles exposed under his unbuttoned coat.

At first you don't even notice, when he had taken his arm back. That is until you feel him take a firm grab of the back of your head, gathering the roots of your hair in his grasp. There is no denying the choked whine that escapes you, as he cranes your head back, nor is there a point denying the groan he gives out at your reaction.

An unspoken understanding blooms between the two of you, both of you suddenly knowing exactly how this encounter will end. For your part, you were more than excited, breathing heavily, as your mind became foggy from the feeling of his fingers in your hair. And if his darkened eyes and slight blush dusting the highest points of his cheekbones were any indication, you seemed to have similar effect on the man.

- For all the research you seem to be doing - your brain feels hot and heavy in your skull, as you try to shift your focus onto his words, and not the way his lips curled into something akin of a smirk - There's one thing you didn't bother to check, did you?

All you can do is stare at him blankly. his other hand starts to toy with the necklace, turning it in his palm.

- Have you checked, if my necklace is made of gold? - he asks matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side.

Your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out, as you continue to stare with growing confusion. Then, a glint of a golden cross catches your attention, as the man moves it higher for you to see.

- Did you check it? - he accentuates his words, and you shiver under his intense gaze.

You shake your head no, and your neck feels as if it's made of lead.

- Use your words, thief.

- No

You don't recognize your voice, so meek and small.

Then, all thoughts leave your head, because he lifts the lover tip of the cross and places it on top of your lower lip, pressing slightly, and watching with fascination as the cold metal creates a small indent in the plush flesh.

- Check it.

Again, your brain seems to be moving in slow motion, but when it catches on, a glint of mischief swirls in your eyes. You open your mouth, let the necklace land on your lower teeth, and then, craning your neck, you bite down, like a good thief that you are.

It's gold alright. Albeit, the part currently between your teeth seems to be hollowed out. Your brows knit for a second, as this new information registers in your mind. So you were right before, the small indent is meant to separate one piece of the necklace from the other.

With a slowly blooming smirk, you let your tongue dart out swirling over the metal. The man's eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pulls back at the necklace. With some fight, you let it go, but not before giving it another lick, this one much more suggestive and pointed.

- You're a devil of a woman - Mihawk breathes, before untangling his other hand from your hair.

Both hands now, he grips the necklace, and your mouth runs dry at the sight of his fingers smearing your saliva onto the metal. And then he pulls. Your heartbeat momentarily quickens, as your eyes register another form of metal glistening in the dim light.

A knife. Small but incredibly sharp, your body starts to shiver but it's not out of fear. He drops the other part of the necklace into his pocket, and gathers the front of your shirt into a tight grip. Your breath hitches, as you feel the tip of the knife slide up under your clothes. It scratches a path from your navel, up to your collarbones, and as the material bunches, the man suddenly yanks the blade upwards. Your entire body jumps from the wall, and your squeak of surprise is accompanied by the loud tearing of your shirt's material.

You fall back against the bricks, and Mihawk leans onto his heels as if he's appreciating an art piece.

- Now we match - you manage to breathe out.

He humms, deep in his chest, and as suddenly as he just tore your clothes off, he dives towards you, open mouth landing right between your breasts.

The moan he wretches from you would be embarrassing if you could only bring yourself to care. But you can't, not when his hot tongue traces patterns all across your stomach, stopping to swirl around each one of your nipples. Like a man starved, he drinks you in, hands pushing and pulling against your hips in a rythmn, that feels more and more like a promise of what's to come.

Your hands flail at your sides, desperate to find any sort of purchase. Fingernails scarpe against the bricked wall, as Mihawk's stubble tickles a path from your collar bones and up your throat, stopping for a moment, to give a few nips to the skin just below your ear. Another whine is wrenched from you, as the man places an open mouthed kiss to the scrape your previous encounter with the surface of the table has left on your skin. Then, finally, he pulls back for just a moment, drinking in the sight of your heaving chest and the redness which has engulfed your entire face.

- Beautiful - he concludes in the same, steady tone, as if he's stating an obvious fact, not paying a compliment.

It works on you all the same, and with a gasp, you lurch forward, your lips forcefully colliding with his. The kiss is deep and filled with passion you're not sure you've ever felt in your entire life. As his mouth and tongue work the insides of yours, you feel him slide his hand from your hips to the front, fingers pulling with urgency at the laces of your breeches. You can only pray, that there's no one taking a midnight stroll through the streets, as another loud moan escapes you. He does his best to swallow it, but something tells you he takes immense pride in the reactions you give him, as his efforts at keeping you quiet are haphazard at best.

Then, after finally winning the battle with your lacing, his hand pushes itself into your undergarments. Your head smacks back against the wall, when he begins to touch you where you need him the most. Expert fingers find your bundle of nerves in an instant, but before you get too carried away, one of your arms encircles his wrist.

Mihawk tilts his head, an unspoken question clear in his golden gaze.

- No time - you pant out, and for a moment worry, he doesn't quite register your words, with the way his focus shifts immediately to your swollen lips - No time, just... Just fuck me, Mihawk.

That seems to reach him just fine, because as soon as the words leave you, his arms shoot out towards his pants. He makes quick work of the massive belt buckle, and with impatient hands yanks his erection out of his underwear. You'd lie, if you said the view didn't worry you just a little bit. But excitement was your drug of choice, and right now you felt as if you could explode at any given moment. With shaky hands, you try to shimmy out of your pants. Seeing your rather clumsy efforts, Mihawk stops you.

With half-lidded eyes you watch him kneel down in front of you, gently pulling your breeches down, before lifting each of your feet, so you could step out of them.

- I think I like seeing you like this - you comment, as he leans forward to kiss the space under your right knee.

- The view from here is also quite spectacular - he counters, kissing up your thigh and making you gasp, as his stubble presses into the mound of flesh just below your stomach.

Still, there is no time, so you reach down towards his shoulder, and pull him up.

- Please - you whisper against his lips, and who is he, to deny a lady in need.

Lifting one of your legs in a tight grip, finally, his hips snap up, filling you to the brim. Your muscles tense, as you try to accommodate his size. To his credit, he stays still, face pressed into the crook of your neck, where you can feel his strained breath. Finally, you let yourself relax. tapping him on the shoulder, to let him know he can continue.

And continue he does, slowly at first, dragging your body from the wall every time he retracts, only to come back in with an agonizing pace. You don't really know who's more frustrated at that point, because as soon, as you try to wriggle your hips more, to force him to pick up the pace, all resolve seems to dissapear. His hand grips your thigh even harder, enough to leave a reminder for the later days. The other tangles itself into your hair, pulling at the strands. And then he truly puts in work, hips snapping in a punishing pace that makes your back scrape against the brick wall. You hide your face in his coat, inhaling his scent and praying that the thick material will be sufficient at muffling your moans of pleasure.

There's pressure, building steadily in your guts, and it doesn't take you long, to feel the band snap somewhere deep inside you. Your muscles tense and your eyes roll back, as you begin to shudder in his grasp, knees giving out completely, so only his own strength is saving you from colliding with the floor. Soon, he follows with a low grunt, nearly toppling over, when his own release hits him.

His arm holds you close to him, as he uses the other one to steady himself against the wall. Both of you are panting heavily, none of you ready to move just yet. You rest your cheek against his chest, and feel him press his face to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as if this wasn't just a quick dalliance in a dark alley.

- You should get back to your friend - Mihawk's voice is muffled by your hair - They must be dreading all the atrocities I could've bestowed upon you.

You laugh breathlessly, finally pushing him back and appreciating the flush on his cheeks, and the way his hair has flown out of place from under that impressive hat.

- Yes, those atrocities have been very great indeed.

***

Your friend sits alone at the same table you've left them. Their head is hidden in their hands, and three empty bottles litter the space before them. It seems they have already started to mourn your untimely death.

The inside of the bar has quieted down, as the closing hours began to loom over the patrons, a few stragglers still hanging around the bar, sowly finishing their respective drinks.

Unceremoniously, you sit down right in front of your friend, wincing ever so slightly at the discomfort still lingering in your muscles, kicking their leg under the table and watching them nearly jump out of their seat with fright.

- You... - their eyes have a difficulty focusing on your face, but when they do, it's like the heavens have opened before them. - You're alive!

Your eyes are glowing, and your face is still blushed from your previous encounter. You lean forward with a brilliant smile, hands slapping onto the wooden table.

- So - you can't help but laugh - About fucking with him...

#dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #mihawk x reader #my writing #one piece live action #stuck between a wall and a hard pirate helloooo

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preciouslandmermaid · 4 months

Text

💐💐💐

imagine being a kindergarten teacher who meets reid

maybe its thru JJ, maybe you've got Henry in your class, and she kindly, warmly strikes a friendship with you after Henry moves into 1st grade. and its a little unorthodox but jj and her husband are always willing to help out (when their schedules can allow) with school events and so yeah, you become friends.

and when jj introduces you to her friends/colleagues - there is of course a little bit of an intimidation factor (because hello...they are fbi) but penelope makes you feel so welcome (because of course she does. and you tell her your students would love her. and she offers to teach a tech class and youre like ok they're five but yes let's do it) and morgan shamelessly flirting, and emily being hot and intimidating and then there's reid, quiet, awkward, wont-shake-your-hand reid.

but there's something to it - a mutual nerdiness, perhaps, or how reid doesn't make you feel "stupid" just because you're an elementary school teacher and not a professor at a college (despite the fact that in many places you need a least a master's to teach).

imagine weeks later when you run into reid at the coffee shop. completely random. the sky is gray, uninteresting, and promising rain. he surprises you by remembering your name before there's a shy yet earnest quip when he says he's got an "eidetic memory." and you laugh warmly and spencer thinks its one of the best sounds he's heard all morning.

and it goes slowly from there, but it moves naturally, like a caterpillar forming its chrysalis

(when you tell reid this, somewhere after the 4 month mark since you've long stopped counting individual dates, he says; "did you know the word comes from the greek word 'khrusos' - which means gold - because of the gold color or metallic sheen of some pupae".

and in that moment, that singular moment, you admire the honey-gold tint of his eyes in the late afternoon sun spilling luminescence across the sidewalks and across shiny car windshields and think that you could already see the shape and color of whatever butterfly that was going to burst from its cocoon).

one time you refused to come over his apartment because "the kids used glitter today" and you didn't want to get it all over his place. so he came over instead, and you watched the iridescent sparkles swirl down the bathtub drain together.

imagine spencer reid laying his head in your lap, something heavy and unspoken between you, shaped in the spread of his fingers across your hips, in the erratic pulse of his heart pressing into your shins

the school doesn't celebrate Halloween, but they have an annual "trunk or treat" where people CAN dress up and trick-or-treat out of the trunks of their cars and spencer starts helping you, decorating the trunk with fake cobwebs, and skulls, and eventually diving into convoluted themes that you're not convinced kids aged 5-10 are totally going to get.

"it's jaws." he says, holding a shark head made of paper mache, "you know, the 1975 film? you said we couldn't do slasher horror movies because they're too gory for the kids but i'd argue that this movie stands alone as a great horror film with how Spielberg creates consistent tension throughout the whole film considering we don't see the shark until an hour and twenty-one minutes into the run time."

(the kids don't really get it, it's true. "sharks aren't monsters." they would say, or "sharks aren't scary." or "is this from Baby Shark?" but you and spencer have fun, passing out candy, sharing small looks to each other--so that makes it all worth it).

imagine something soft, sweet, something quiet shared over coffee with spencer. something gentle amidst all the chaos, the heartache, and stress of his day-to-day job.

"I don't know how you do it," you tell him, "seeing the worst of what the world has to offer day in and day out."

his long fingers stroke the underside of your jaw, "i don't know how you manage a room full of fifteen 5 and 6-year-olds." he pulls a face. "especially with the germs."

imagine bringing spencer lunch at the office - earning the knowing, sly looks from his friends and team, knowing you can't hide against a room full of profilers and knowing it doesn't really matter anyways.

:) ok that's all i got. <3

#i dont feel like writing a fic about this so have this instead #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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gimmethatagustd · 5 months

Text

technicolor | pjm

Love is one hell of a drug. Bottled and sold on the black market, it isn't for the faint-hearted. You're not really interested in trying it until you meet Jimin.

○ Pairing: Jimin x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Strangers to lovers, dystopian, angst (?), smut

○ 3 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Dystopian)

○ Word Count: 992

○ Warnings: Implied drug usage (syringes), unprotected vaginal sex, bathroom sex, sex while under the influence (of love jhsdkfsj)

○ Notes: I tried so hard to keep this at a normal drabble word count jhkdfs

○ Post Date: January 11, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Serendipity - BTS

“Have you ever been in love?” Jimin leans into you so he doesn’t have to yell over the music. He smells like sweat and the remnants of cologne, a musky kind that’s likely expensive.

You shake your head. Of course not. No one has.

“I could love you.”

Jimin’s face glows blue from the strobe lights, then lights up with streaks of pink and gold that cut across his face like lightning. There’s silver glitter smeared under his eyes, and his teeth sparkle when he bites the tip of his tongue with some twisted form of a knowing smile.

He’s pretty, a technicolor dream sticking out like a beacon amongst a sea of gray bodies grinding to the DJ’s electronic music. You’ve never met someone who looks like him; you've only seen people so colorful and bright on television. No one in real life seeks out passion. No one in real life looks so alive. You don’t even feel it, though sometimes you think there’s something inside of you that yearns to, like a ghost of a reminder that humans’ bodies once evolved to do more than just want.

They tell you that life is about fulfilling needs: hunger, thirst, and the drive for success. There is no such thing as pleasure.

Yet here is this stranger promising love where he sits at the bar beside you with a cherry stem tied into a knot between his teeth and silver studs poking out from the shoulders of his blue jean jacket.

“Could you?” you ask, barely swallowing because your heart thumps in your throat. There’s only one way Jimin could love you, and it isn’t legal.

Jimin pats his chest, curling his fingers around the edge of his jacket. When he pulls it open far enough to peek inside, you see the syringe and a glass vial filled with a light pink liquid tucked into the inside pocket.

“I could,” Jimin says with a smile too pretty to be mixed up in something like this. “Will you let me?”

“Fuck, I love you so fucking much,” Jimin rasps against the curve of your ear. His hot breath dances down your neck, making goosebumps spring up along your forearms.

“I love you too,” you moan the unfamiliar words. They flow out of you easily and are quickly lost between Jimin’s lips and teeth.

Jimin whimpers when you suck on his bottom lip. The sound is cute. Jimin is cute. It’s the first thing you’d noticed about him when he slid into the seat next to you at the bar. With glitter smeared beneath his eyes and a sparkling smile, he charmed you away from your friends and into the dingy bathroom.

There’s so much more to Jimin than his looks, though. You love Jimin for everything that he is, the good and the bad, even though you don’t know what any of those things are. It doesn’t matter. Because you love him, those other things don’t need to matter.

Heat builds between the two of you in the cramped bathroom. Sweat makes the crease of your thigh sticky against Jimin’s bare hip. When you splay your hands against Jimin’s back to pull him closer, you can feel the cotton stick to his skin with sweat. He’d shed his jean jacket before hoisting you up to sit on the edge of the sink.

Your ass barely fits on the thin lip of the sink. With how sweaty your skin is, you keep almost slipping off of it. The thrust of Jimin’s hips rocks you backward. The back of your thighs are beginning to chafe, but you don’t notice, especially not when Jimin’s hands squeeze your ass to hold you in place as he fucks you with sharp, deep thrusts.

“It’s so good, Jimin. You feel so good.” Your hands shake as you rake them down his back, pulling his t-shirt hard enough that it makes him gasp when the collar tightens around his neck.

“Best you’ve had, right, baby?”

“Yes, yes, your cock is s-sooo–” Your words are cut off by a loud sob that shudders through your body.

When you pull Jimin closer, you feel his tears smear against your neck as he tucks his face into your shoulder. You don’t know why you’re both crying, but it feels good to let your body tremble and heave while Jimin’s cock glides in and out of you. This is love, having a body hold you, whisper sweet reassurances in your ear.

Jimin loves you. He loves your body, the way you smell, how wet and hot your pussy is around his cock. He loves your cute gasps and everything, really. He loves everything, even though he knows nothing.

Jimin cums after you. Once he’s finished, he zips up his jeans and tucks the half-empty vial in the inside pocket of his jean jacket. He helps you hop down from the sink and straighten out your skirt. The high is gone, short-lived, a burst of a star before it dies. Love is fickle like that, you suppose. But what do you know? This is your first time trying it out.

“I feel… Is it supposed to feel, um, weird?” You press your palm to your chest and take a deep breath.

Jimin checks his hair in the mirror and flicks at the black strands with his pinkies.

“It’ll go away after a few hours.” His response feels simple. It feels…

“I feel really… empty.”

“It’s like a hangover,” Jimin turns to give you a sparkling smile that makes your stomach twist, “Drink some water and sleep it off.”

You let Jimin take your phone to input his number. When he gives it back, his contact name is Loverboy. Something about it bothers you.

“I had fun,” Jimin giggles after kissing your cheek. “If you ever want more love, call me, okay?”

You watch Jimin slip through the bathroom doors, love held hidden against his chest.

@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin smut #bts angst #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #technicolor #100 drabble challenge

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tragedy-of-commons · 20 days

Text

dearly beloved

sunday & gn!reader | wc: ~1.3k

Some birds were not meant to fly.

tags/warnings: SPOILERS FOR 2.2, implied/nongraphic animal death, childhood friends trope, kind of a character study, there is humor is you squint, romance is not the focus here

notes: the story quest had the gears turning and i have this to show for it! i honestly just wanted to yap. so. sunday's characterization is loose and i just had fun with this!

Sitting on the windowsill is a cage fashioned from wrought iron.

Inside Robin’s bedroom—the one you play in almost everyday—it’s a jarring new addition; the dull gray metalwork draws your eyes away from the scattered dolls and books resting upon the honey oak floors. Before your lips curl downwards, the shape inside of the cage catches your attention.

…A small bird chirps from inside.

“Robin!” you call out, hoping she’ll hear you from the hallway, “Since when did you get a pet bird? And is that a Charmony Dove?” She doesn’t come running in to answer, so you assume that she’s still held up with dinner. Making your way over, the little dove chirps at you.

It’s so pretty—and you would surely be scolded for gaping like a fish impolitely near any of the Oak Family—but Robin has never been a Judgey-Mc-Judger-Pants like all of those other stuffy adults.

“So adorable…” You decide to stick your hand between the bars so you can pet the animal. Though it’s beautiful, you’re sure you’d be able to hear its song much better if it could be let out for some fresh air.

An annoying voice decides to scare the ever-living shit out of you. “It is, right?”

“F-Fuck! Sunday, you scared me!” you say hotly, jabbing an accusing finger to his chest. “Where is Robin? She doesn’t take joy in my suffering!”

He tries not to smile at your “crass” language—whatever that means. “Mr. Gopher Wood wanted her to continue her lessons instead of playing with you,” Sunday straightens his posture, “She made me come to tell you, so…”

“Are you kicking me out?” You narrow your eyes at him. “Because if you are, I didn’t even wanna be here anyway! Robin is better than yo—”

He facepalms like you’ve seen your mother do. “No, I’m not. I don’t think I could make you leave if I tried. But weren’t you wondering about the dove?”

Your scowl drops into an awed smile, forgetting the whole reason why you were upset. The bird shifts from foot to foot (talon to talon?) on its perch, looking at you with eyes that look like sparkling amethysts. “Yes! When did you guys adopt one? I’ve never seen a Charmony Dove here before.”

Sunday frowns, a serious one, you note. It looks out of place on his face that still matches the chubbiness of yours, but he’s always been the one to talk you out of shenanigans in your ragtag group. He seems older right now, standing like he’s ready to lead an entire lineage while he can barely preen his feathers by himself.

“That’s because they normally don’t live here. Robin and m—Robin and I—found it outside in one of the gardens a week ago, sick and hurt,” he says, taking a spot at your side while you examine the bird with sympathy. “We decided to adopt it and nurse it back to health.”

“Poor thing…” It allows you to scratch under its neck, cooing affectionately under your touch. “At least it’s looking better. Robin must be so happy to have her own pet in her own room! Did she name it yet?”

Sunday frowns deeper, and he should really stop doing that, ‘cause he’ll get wrinkles. “No, she didn’t name it yet.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Robin… isn’t really happy about us adopting the dove.” Now that just doesn’t make sense! Robin loves animals, and you both once talked about adopting hundreds of them if you could. You’re about to open your mouth until Sunday adds on quickly, “She says birds are meant to fly in the sky.”

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” you survey the sturdy cage and how it dwarfs the inhabitant inside. “It looks like it’s in jail like Hanu from the cartoon.”

He flicks your forehead. “Be serious for once.”

“We’re eight!” you cry.

Sunday agrees to show you how to feed and hold the dove properly after you beg him, and the longer you hold fledgling life in your hands, the more cruel the cage seems. You don’t know if birds are meant to do this or that, but you know that their song is louder (and more annoying) when they chirp outside of your window.

Before you leave for the day, he also tells you that he and Robin plan to release the Charmony Dove when it fully recovers. A bittersweet notion that you think fits the siblings perfectly. If Robin is the sun that everyone’s eyes will be on, then Sunday must be the silent moon obscured by the curtain.

The moon lost its sun not long after. Robin’s departure from Penacony was also bittersweet, and you were left with one less friend. Not a week after she left, you found yourself in her empty bedroom, lonely. She did say that you were allowed inside anytime you wanted, and that you both would message everyday. Still, you missed her.

Something else is clearly missing too. The wrought iron cage that normally houses the Charmony Dove you’ve become familiar with is empty. You don’t think it could have escaped; the door to the enclosure is sealed with a solemn air. Sunday would naturally be taking care of the little thing, that much he told you, so where is it?

You get your answer after searching the winding halls for a short bit.

“...I didn’t mention this to you because I knew it would make you upset,” his brow is furrowed again, and you’d tease him for looking like an old man, but something is definitely wrong. “But the dove died a few days ago. It tried to fly, and when it did, it crashed.”

“That’s… what? I thought that you said it was healthy,” you supply, heart clenching.

“I’m sorry. It was, but I guess that some birds aren’t meant to fly.”

You don’t think you’re going to cry. “Why not? It looked perfectly healthy, so why shouldn’t it be able to fly like the others?”

Sunday laughs, “That’s a good question. It’s unfair, isn’t it? If we didn’t set it free, it’d be alive.” Somehow you get the feeling that Sunday isn’t feeling guilty, but instead something else. His eyes are set and intense, as if he’s not talking about a Charmony Dove, but something more than you can’t understand.

It is unfair. Birds are supposed to belong to the sky; that’s one of the first things you learn about them when you’re learning to speak your first words and take your first steps.

You feel heavy. “I’m glad it, um, passed when it was free, at least.” Maybe he’s acting a bit more down because of Robin leaving—which does make sense. You feel far away from him.

Sunday grabs your hand tentatively. “I wish there didn’t have to be an ‘at least’.”

You squeeze back. “Maybe one day, there doesn’t have to be… does Robin know?”

(You’re too naïve to notice the look of resolve aging his features by the day.) Now he looks guilty—doing that thing where he shifts his weight from foot to foot, “I didn’t want to upset her either.”

It’s silent save for the shuffle of your feet as he leads you out of the room and outside into the familiar gardens. They’re beautiful, filled with freesias, roses, begonias, and even a few unkempt weeds growing in the little abandoned corners. You’d go as far as to call it your paradise.

The reason you’re here reveals itself: a stone marking a mound of dirt that is plainly a makeshift grave. “Is this…?”

Sunday nods, halo dipping in tandem with his head. “It is. Just like the cage, it also needed a place to rest. This time I, um, fashioned it,” he pauses, “But one day, like you said, hopefully there needn’t be an at least. I want to make a world where there isn’t one.”

That sounds bittersweet, you think, plucking a weed from the otherwise flawless grass and placing it on the pillow of earth.

(You just hope that the boy beside you doesn’t lean too far in either direction.)

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @nomazee

#—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#sunday x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #sunday hsr x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #star rail x reader #sunday angst #hsr angst #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #sunday x gn!reader

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my-castles-crumbling · 13 days

Text

interrupted declaration of love - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 427

"Pads?" Remus murmured, angling his head down to look at the the boy resting on his bare chest.

"Mmmm?" Sirius mumbled, clearly half-asleep.

"I...I need to talk to you," he whispered, deciding that now was the time.

He'd been thinking about it for weeks. About how much he adored Sirius. How he could stare at the other boy for hours, how he could spend the rest of his life kissing him, how he would actually die for him if it meant protecting him. How all he wanted was to make him happy.

He loved him. And he needed to tell him.

"Merlin, Moons, your heart is beating a million miles an hour," Sirius chuckled from on top of him. "Are you thinking about that time the other day in the broom closet, because-?"

"No," Remus breathed, sitting up and pulling Sirius with him. "No, I wanted to say..." But he was so scared. What if Sirius didn't love him back?

"Is everything okay, Moony? You...you seem nervous," Sirius asked, catching on to Remus's nerves now that he could see him.

"I'm fine," Remus waved him off. "It's just..Sirius, you don't understand how much I care for you. And you need to. I...I've had feelings for you for years, and-"

"I know," Sirius grinned, gray eyes sparkling. "Prongs told me you used to doodle Remus Black in your notes."

"Right, but not the point," Remus said, ignoring his blush and pushing forward. "I just- I mean to say I...I care more for you than anyone else in my life. You're- I don't deserve everything you give me, but for some insane reason, you've chosen to date me, and-"

"Are you proposing, Moons?" Sirius asked, interrupting again, his expression mischievous. "Because if you are, I want Prongs as my best man."

"No, Sirius," Remus said, getting irritated. "I'm just trying to tell you I bloody lo-"

But at that moment, the door to the dorm banged open and James barged in yelling loudly, "Trip to the kitchens, mates! I could eat a hippogriff!"

And to Remus's horror, Sirius jumped off the bed and responded, "Right-o, Prongs! Let me just grab a jumper!"

Sinking resignedly back into the pillows, Remus watched James disappear back downstairs and Sirius throw one of Remus's own jumpers over his head before running to the door. When he got to the threshold, however, he stopped and looked back, an angelic, euphoric look on his face.

"I love you too, Moons. Of course I do. Now put on a shirt and come get cake with me."

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aspirationalpeony · 4 months

Text

Lucky Me

Summary: You and Mel do a little experimenting after she shares a disappointing truth about her past relationships. Content Warnings: Lots of smut. :) This fic is loosely set in the same world as "Finding Beauty," but can be enjoyed independently. AO3 Link

"He wasn't good at it," Melissa says. "Joe. Makin' me come." She blushes.

It's so not her--tough, capable Melissa, fearless and demanding. You touch her cheek, brush a strand of red hair back behind her ear. She hasn't had a touch-up in a while, and there's a streak of gray growing in at her temple. You love that she can be vulnerable with you, admitting these little truths about herself, in words, in body.

"Really?" you say. You have a well, duh moment in your own head: the last time you saw Joe, he interrupted you constantly, derailing your thoughts to tell his own stories, never letting you get to the punchline of a joke. He just feels like a bad lover, inattentive and untrustworthy. Plus, you know the stuff he said to Melissa about her body.

"Yeah." She plays with the band of her smart watch, then leans forward off the couch toward the coffee table, picking up her wine glass. (It's a weeknight, so the liquid inside is grapefruit-flavored sparkling water.) "And 'specially later on, I couldn't get wet, he'd get so frustrated."

"Even though you were telling him what to do?"

Putting her glass back down, she cuts a look at you for the assumption, but it breaks out into a smile, a little sheepish. Your heart does a flip-flop at the sight. "Well, yeah."

Your fingertip traces the shell of her ear. She shivers. You can't believe Joe would get frustrated, impatient, bored of trying to give this woman pleasure. Every inch of her has some private sensitivity: the lobes of her ears, the small of her back, behind her knees, below her navel. Getting to learn these secrets has been the most incredible privilege. And it's been fun.

It's taken her a while to learn to let you, rather than tell you; to give you a chance to explore. She's so used to controlling every moment, organizing her own pleasure and yours. You love when Melissa is the boss, but you also love when she gives up the authority; when she melts into the feeling and lets you be in charge.

"What about Gary?" you ask.

She snorts. "Gary who?" Her mouth twists and she shakes her head, at the question, at herself. "I mean, sometimes I'd take his mustache for a ride, but that's about it. He didn't have, y'know. It." Her eyes flick up to yours again. You haven't missed the way they've been down this whole time, unable to hold your gaze; how her chin is tucked toward her chest, her shoulders up. "It doesn't... Bother you? Talkin' about them?"

You check in with yourself, but end up shrugging. "Not really." You've spent time with Melissa and Joe together, and there's no heat between them, just the friendly chemistry of two people who've known each other half their lives. Gary you did see once, and he looked kind of like an uncooked ham. What is there to be jealous of?

You study her face. She's still pink and a little twitchy. "Does it bother you? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You drop your hand to her nape, rubbing your thumb comfortingly along the column of her neck. She sways into you with a sigh.

"I wanna," she says. "Talk about it. I feel like I..." Her lips pinch. "Owe ya."

"No," you say, straightening up. The plastic of the couch creaks with your movement. "Melissa, you don't owe me anything. I want to talk about it if you do, but--"

"Nah, that's--" she shakes her head. "It's not what I meant. I mean, I... It's like, it's a part of... Me. Y'know." She pushes her hair back from her face. "And 'cause I love you, and--" she laughs a little--"cause you're stuck with me, I..."

Your always-active heart gives a tremor, hearing the cautious vulnerability of her voice. You slide your arm around her and pull her in.

"It ain't that big a deal," she says, muffled, lying, against your shoulder.

Even if she can't admit it--your tough-girl sweetheart, not wanting to let her soft heart show--you can. "It is to me," you say, and squeeze her.

You loosen your grip, and she tucks herself against your side. It always surprises you how small she really is. Every day she's like a cat that's making itself big, back up, fur on end, daring anyone to come at her; here she gets to shrink back down, turn back into herself, become your kitten.

"I don't get it," you say after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "It's fun making you come. I love it."

"Lucky me," Mel says, very smugly.

"I sometimes think about--" you stop. This really isn't the moment for your fantasies: yeah, you guys were talking about sex, but not in the dirty sense; it was Melissa sharing something important, something emotional, and...

"Yeah?" she says. Her voice has two registers when she's turned on: airy, almost girlish, usually when you've surprised her, and throaty, a rasp. Now it's that fainter, breathless one. The sound of it sends a tickling frisson down your spine.

"Um," you say, and it's your turn to blush. "I think about... A lot of things."

"I'm waitin'."

You huff an embarrassed laugh. It's one thing to fantasize, another thing to tell the object of your fantasy all about it. "Sometimes I think about," you say, and clear your throat, "how sensitive you are. And I want to know how many times I can make you come."

You can feel the way her breathing speeds up, her body against your side, but she doesn't speak.

"We usually stop at two," you say, "but I think you can take more. I think you can take a lot more. And--sometimes, I think about how little it takes, like, when you're right there. Like I can just breathe on your clit and you'll come. I think about getting you there and telling you 'no.'"

Her breath catches.

"I bet you'd go crazy." You're smiling a little. You touch your mouth, tapping your lower lip, thinking of it. "You'd cuss me out, you'd yank my hair. You'd probably try to finish yourself off. I might have to tie you up to stop you."

"Oh," she says.

You risk a glance at her face. She's looking up at you from where she's leaning against your side, her green eyes glassy, her cheeks pink, her lips parted.

"You like that, baby?" You slide your hand down her back and feel the muscles shift as she moves, pushing herself up, then throwing a leg over you, settling onto your lap.

Having her like this is perfect. She used to hold herself up on her knees, not letting you take her weight, until you got her to understand that you loved the pressure of her body against yours, that there was no such thing as too much of her.

She dips her head and kisses you. It's not a starter kiss, warming you up; she kisses you like you're inside her now, deep and filthy, putting her tongue in your mouth with no foreplay. You groan as her hand cups your neck, feeling the prickle of her manicured nails against your skin.

"You think about me like that a lot?" she asks you when she's letting you catch your breath. The words are low, your faces close, like it's a secret someone could overhear.

"Yeah," you admit. Your hands slide over her hips to grip her ass. She gives an encouraging little motion when you squeeze. "I love thinking about what I could do to you..." Her breath hitches again. "What you'd enjoy."

"You get off on it?"

"Yeah, I do," you say. "I get off on getting you off."

Her eyelashes flutter. She makes a noise like a whimper. You have a flash of inspiration, and before you can second-guess yourself, you take her hand from your neck, the other from your shoulder, and pull them behind her back.

She gasps. It's an arrow of electricity right to your clit. Her eyes open wide, searching for yours, as you gather her wrists into one hand. It's not a very strong grip--she could yank away from you easily--but it pulls her shoulders back and leaves her chest thrust forward.

"Is this okay?"

She nods.

"You have to tell me."

"It's okay," she says. Her voice has dropped into that second register of pure arousal, throaty and low. "It's... It's good."

"Did Joe ever do this to you?" You don't know what makes you bring him up. Not jealousy, but... Maybe curiosity. Maybe wondering if he ever took the time to catalogue Melissa's reactions, to think through what would really turn her on, if he ever gave that much of a shit.

She chuckles breathlessly. "Like to see him try," she mutters. Her blush is traveling down her throat and blotching her chest.

You follow its path to the three buttons at the front of her blouse. You watch her chest start to heave as you work them open with your free hand. They expose the center gore of her bra and a hint of the silky curve of its cups.

You palm one breast roughly, squeezing. She groans. You can just feel her hardening nipple through the layers of fabric separating you. You thumb it, pinch hard, to make sure she can feel it, turning her next moan into a whine.

Her hips rock into your lap, trying to get friction. You lean back to look at her: disheveled, red, her hair spilling everywhere, her lip gloss blurry from kissing.

"You're so fucking sexy," you tell her, voice low, making her moan again.

You'd love to finger her, but there's no lube, and she's in leggings pulled up high over her hips, with not a lot of room between the two of you to get inside them. You slide your hand between her legs and over her covered sex.

She pushes down into your palm, hard, as you nose the tender inner curve of one breast, tracing your lips against the edge of her bra. Pressing through her leggings, you can feel the plump shape of her cunt. You trace those folds down, then up, over her clit.

"Oh, fuck," she breathes as you start rubbing. "Oh, fuck..." She shifts restlessly; you think she might pull her wrists away, but instead she arches toward you, drops her head back, inviting a bite to her throat, which you give. You suck soft skin into your mouth, scrape of your teeth, nibble, move down, find another spot, repeat. You can't leave marks, but there are blotches of satisfying pink where you've touched her.

"You getting close?" You work your thumb against her clit.

"Uh huh," she says, weak and needy. She picks her head up again and there's a lost, fogged look of pleasure on her face as she meets your eyes.

You hold her gaze. "Tell me when you're there," you say. "When you're right there. Okay?"

Her brow creases as she tries to focus. You wonder if she's ever tried to do this before, parsing out stages to her pleasure, or if she's always just gone up and over, never thinking about how she got there.

"I--I--I think I'm--" her voice is wobbly.

You pull your hand away. She whines and her hips jab down toward your lap, seeking a touch that isn't there. You rub her thigh, slide your hand up, over the soft curve of her belly and down to press against her mons; her hips jolt again.

"Fuck you," she says feebly.

You rub your thumb back and forth, far above where she wants it. You know she can feel the contact here in her cunt, a phantom pressure to remind her how empty she is, how close she was.

"More?" you ask.

She squirms and nods. When you give her no response, she huffs a sigh, rolls her eyes, and says, "Yes, fine, yes, more, oh--shit--"

You've found her clit again. You know this time she'll already be sensitive, and she might not be able to tell you when you need to stop. You focus on watching her: the glazed look in her eyes before she shuts them, her parted lips, her frantic breaths, her rocking hips.

You time it; you pull your thumb away. She gives a frustrated cry and squirms in your lap. You take pity and give her a distraction, rubbing your cheek against her breast, finding the hint of her pebbled nipple, the one you neglected before, and biting hard. You feel the elasticity of her bra's cup more than you feel her flesh, muting the sting of your teeth, but it makes her keen.

"You've got no fucking clue how hot you are," you tell her. You bite again and tug, drawing out another delicious sound. "I haven't even taken your clothes off. Look at you. I want to do this to you forever."

Your thumb at her clit again, this time so lightly it barely counts. "You want to come, don't you?"

Her wrists twist in your grasp, but don't pull away. She says, all breathless, angry bravado, "What do you think?"

"I think I could stop right now." She gasps, though you don't stop gently rubbing her clit. "Even though I want to make you come. And after that, I want to take you upstairs and eat you out. I want to suck on you and get you all over my face. I want--"

"Oh, shit, I," she says weakly, her hips starting to twitch.

Realizing, you say, "Just from this?" She's really almost there again? "Fuck, you're incredible. Should I stop?"

"No," she whines.

"You want it harder?"

"Yes!"

You give her what she wants. Finally, she pulls her wrists out of your grip so she can grab your hand and shove it fully against her cunt, letting her ride your palm to her orgasm. Melissa's always noisy, but this time, she's loud, the sound of her desperate cry huge in the living room.

"Oh, fuck," she says faintly as she sags down onto your lap. "I, oh..."

"You did so good," you murmur to her and rub her back, grateful to have both hands again. She buries her face in your neck and clings to you, breathing hard. She mumbles something. "What, baby?"

She picks up her head a little. "I said, 'yeah, you too.'"

It makes you snort. It's a funny mix of tenderness, affection, and gratitude you feel, knowing that even after an orgasm that took her like a runaway train, she'll still make sure to remind you of your place. Can't ever get too smug around Melissa.

You trace a hand up and down her back, finding the hem of her blouse and rucking it up so you can touch her bare skin underneath. She's hot against your palm and it makes you sigh.

"You want to go upstairs and keep going?" you ask, mouth against her ear.

"I wanna recover first," she says blearily. "What the hell was that?" She sits up a bit in your lap and you have room to reach around her and pick up her water from the table.

"A little taste," you say.

She brings the glass to her lips and sips, eyes narrowed, watching you the way kung fu heroines watch their enemies, prepared to bust out their fists at any moment.

"Of what I've been thinking about," you add. You rub her lower back. "I think you liked it."

"I think you gotta be crazy to get off on somebody not letting you come," she says, then scowls. "Which I guess makes me crazy."

"I guess it does." You can't smother your smile. "You're okay, though?"

"What do you mean? I came, didn't I?"

"I mean, sometimes emotions can get weird," you say, "after doing that kind of stuff. You get a lot of hormones and chemicals in you and they can make you feel..." You shrug.

"You got a lot of experience with 'this kind of stuff'?" Now her gaze is accusing. "You been holdin' out on me?"

"No, not a lot of experience. A little, maybe." You hold her hips, rubbing your thumbs over their soft curves. "A little experience. And a lot of things I want to do to you."

Her whole body shudders. She reaches back to put her water down, then loops her arms around your neck and kisses you. It's her post-coital kiss, lazy and loving, the hunger more muted.

"Gee," she says breathlessly when you part, and repeats herself, a grin curving her lips: "Lucky me."

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #sorry for any editing mishaps... i just really wanted to write but WIPs were a struggle!#so fired this off very quickly #i hope you can enjoy even though it's quite short/slapdash

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