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supercutszns · 3 months

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Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky.

This year, there were two.

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls.

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love.

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day.

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen.

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility.

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him.

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away.

“You alright there, sunshine?”

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile.

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you.

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes.

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls.

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does.

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him.

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice.

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you.

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer.

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt.

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh.

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on.

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear.

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.”

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is.

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink.

You haven’t talked to him since.

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too.

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale.

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you.

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next.

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin.

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?”

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both.

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers.

He will not. Stop. Looking at you.

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there.

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way.

Luke, calling your name.

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him.

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear.

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks.

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.”

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it.

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!”

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly.

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.”

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in.

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth.

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell #perrie's requests #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo fic #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #heroes of olympus #percy jackson

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whatbigotspost · 11 months

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Every time I hear someone much older than me talking about how their shame about their bodies and weight have robbed them of all kinds of fun experiences and simple joys and delights in life, it breaks my fucking heart. Older women, in particular, have been shamed into and forced into (and perpetuated themselves) so many stupid narratives about what one "can't do" if you look a certain way. Sometimes they don't even notice it...they'll just casually be saying something like, "I would have loved to play volleyball back in school but this big ass wasn't going to look right in those shorts tee hee" and I'm like that's??? actually??? tragic???????? Especially when it's something they COULD still pursue or try but they've got a fixed mindset about it.

My 84 year old aunt really spent all of her 30s-60s believing that she COULDN'T just put on a swimsuit and enjoy the water in the summer. I have so many memories of this mindset affecting her all summer. Just casually existing by a pool in a swimsuit was something that women who looked like her Could Not Do. This is someone who broke so many gender barriers in her field, who was a pioneer and a bad ass, but who held herself back from something she truly enjoyed for DECADES because she's fat. A couple of years ago she told me how stupid she feels having thought like that now that her age has changed her mobility and safety in going to a pool and it's no longer literally possible for her to do so.

She bought the bullshit and deprived herself of happiness when it was possible, so she lost her chance at hundreds of moments of simple enjoyment she now looks back on sadly.

Really sadly.

I think this is a topic where we can literally see a huge generational change among society right now. The bitchy boomer who says something like, "oh she should NOT be wearing that" when a happy, chunky Gen Zer bops by in a crop top sounds like the death rattles of an ancient relic to most of us in younger generations. After we get over the overt hate that surges when we hear things like that, most of us can see right through that prickly exterior into the deeply damaged, sad, and vulnerable person inside who is the one that's the real problem in the equation.

And yet, while it can be easy to think, "Thank god I'm not like THAT" none of us are truly immune to the messages that are blasted in our faces all the time that still shame fatness and make us feel like we owe society a certain kind of "beauty."

Just keep an eye out for any limiting beliefs you have that are depriving you from joy and delight you want and need. As anyone like my aunt could tell you, you won't someday look back and think, "I sure am glad I didn't do what made me happy all those years!"

#fatphobia #misogyny #body acceptance #body neutrality #advice

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peachdues · 2 months

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TOXIC

LEVI X READER

A/N: a combination of the horny angst that’s been swirling in my head for a few days.

Listen. Do I condone what’s about to happen in this? No. Was it fun to write? Absolutely.

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below • toxic fucking • unprotected/raw sex • creampie • breeding kink • fucking does not solve problems • neither do babies • toxic Levi and toxic Reader tbh

This was a bad idea. Terrible; one of your worst to date.

And yet, as Levi spread you out across his kitchen counter — the counter that, until two weeks ago, had also been yours — you couldn’t for the life of you remember why every alarm bell in your head was sounding off, begging your body stiffen, to reject the man lowering himself between your thighs, his gray eyes glowing nearly silver with desire.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” His lips are hot and silky as they slope messily across your thighs, and his fingers push aside the hem of your sundress to make way for him. “Because try as you might, you know no one will ever be able to fuck you like I can.”

Ah. That was why.

Because you and Levi had broken up. You were no more; a past concept, a memory.

In the end, your three-year relationship died not in a fiery blaze of glory, but in cold resignation. He’d sat stoically at the kitchen table as you’d confessed that you could no longer stomach being second or third or whatever place behind his true passion — work — and that it was time for you to put yourself first, for once, since he wouldn’t.

The only sign of his emotion has been his fists — clenched so tight that the skin of his knuckles had gone white.

I’m done. I have nothing left to give you, Levi. Not when you only ever take and offer nothing in return.

He’d tried to argue once you announced your intention to move out that night. He’d fought to convince you to wait until morning, to put away the small suitcase you’d packed with your most essential belongings, to sleep on it — on the decision overall. But you’d known that if you’d stayed, you would have changed your mind — would’ve let him change your mind, and he’d known that, too. So you’d held firm, turned your back on him and forced yourself to walk out of the door to your apartment, suitcase in hand.

You hadn’t intended to return, and it seemed like he’d accepted it. He’d even gone so far as to mail whatever of your belongings you hadn’t managed to pack to your parents’ address. So though you spent your nights staining your pillow with bitter tears, your heart feeling like little more than a misshapen lump of meat barely beating in your chest, you’d at least gotten what you thought you’d wanted: a clean break.

Until he’d texted you that all of your mail was still being sent to your — his — address. He’d offered to pay to have it forwarded to you, but when you saw how much that would have put you in his debt, you’d begrudgingly told him you’d stop by on your way home from work and pick it up.

Really, you knew better; should have known better, at least.

And perhaps your logic would have won over your desire, but then Levi’s fingers tug your underwear to the side and his mouth latches to your core, and all the chatter that constitutes your higher reasoning fades to an indiscernible buzz in the back of your skull. The moment you feel something hot and wet prodding your entrance, your mind whites out without the hope of coherency returning any time soon, as Levi begins to fuck you with his tongue.

With a keening cry, your legs seize around his head, trapping him between your thighs. Your hands shoot to grip his hair, desperate to find purchase; to find anything to help keep you tethered here, to reality, rather than risk floating away in clouded bliss.

But Levi is too committed to tearing down the wall you’d carefully spent the last two weeks building, brick by brick. So as his tongue pumps steadily into your core, he shifts, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he presses you harder against his face. His jaw works furiously and when his teeth graze against your clit, you lose whatever last vestige of control you’d clung onto.

You’re sobbing through clenched teeth but utterly helpless to stop your hips as they begin churning and grinding against his mouth. Levi hums in approval, and throw your eyelashes, you spot the way his pupils dilate, chasing away the cool silver of his irises and replacing them with something black and hungry.

“Atta girl,” he praises between his thrusts, and the vibrations of his mouth against your heated, sensitive flesh nearly makes you drool. “For once in your life, stop fuckin’ thinking.”

He swirls his tongue around you entrance one more time before he replaces it with his fingers, plunging two into your cunt and curling them. He finds that rough patch on your innermost wall with a near frustrating ease.

It’s infuriating to know that the person you know can’t give you what you really need is somehow the only person who knows exactly how to give you what you want. And, judging by the faint smirk pulling at Levi’s lips they latch around that bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, you know he can see your resolve crumbling under his feverish mouth.

“You don’t even remember why we were arguing, do you?” He jeers between harsh sucks at your clit as you continue to writhe and cry out for more. “You just wanted to cause a scene; make me sweat a little.”

You want to fight back; you want to tell him that he’s wrong, that you’d meant it when you’d said your relationship had run its course, but he won’t give you the space to do so. Not when he presses his face firm against your center and rocks his head side to side, reducing any protestations you might have had to pitiful whimpers.

“You’ve got my attention, sweetheart. Let’s see if you know what to do with it.”

Levi slips a third finger into your core and you come undone. With his teeth grazing your clit in time with each measured thrust of his fingers into your heat, you shatter against the kitchen counter, hard enough that stars dance in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Levi groans as he continues to lap at your sensitive and overstimulated flesh. “You’re always so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

His praise, coupled with the way his mouth continues to work at your cunt prolongs the waves of your release, until your legs are trembling against the smooth granite of the countertop, and tears are gathered in your eyes. Your walls spasm weakly one final time and then it’s over, your limbs limp and your brain little more than a puddle of liquid between your ears.

Levi steps back and the heat in his eyes is unmistakable; you know, by the way his eyes turn from steel to molten ore that he wants more; wants to take and take and make you bend to him.

You shouldn’t do it; you know you shouldn’t. You know that what’s happening between you is a manifestation of everything that was toxic about your relationship. Levi, always needing to be in control, who only listened when you were at your breaking point, but could never fully give you what you needed. You, who made far too many excuses, who let him dictate the norms of your relationship because it was easy; being with him was easy, until it wasn’t.

So no, you shouldn’t give in; you should stand firm.

You reach for him anyways. “Levi,”

That’s all it takes; a pleading whimper of his name, your hands outstretched toward him, and Levi pounces. His mouth crashes against yours, and his kiss makes you feel whole even though you know he’s tearing your resolve apart.

And you let him; you let him, because you’d sworn you were going to spend your life with him. You believed, without a moment’s hesitation, that Levi was the one for you — the one you’d share the remainder of your days with, the one with whom you’d create and share a family. It was all you’d wanted, and Levi, to his credit, had assured you it was what he’d wanted, too. At least, he did; once.

And, as Levi’s hands slide under you to peel you off the counter, your legs locking around his waist with practiced ease, you know it’s what you still want; he’s what you want.

For all your desperation to have him, Levi is just as eager for you. He pivots you away from the counter, lips still moving heatedly against yours, only to drop you both to the cold tile floor, spreading you out beneath him as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, your neck. He’s too impatient to carry you to the bedroom, his hands fumbling with the buckle on his belt so he can have you then, now, on the kitchen floor.

“‘S been too long,” he pushes the straps of your sundress from your shoulders, yanking the bodice down to expose your. He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, and idly you wonder whether you made the subconscious decision to forgo your bra when you dressed that morning, in the event you’d end up here, under him.

His mouth closes around one pert nipple and you think it was the best decision you could have made; for nothing could possibly feel as right as the sensation of his hot mouth and silken tongue swirling around your soft flesh, nipping and sucking his devotion into your skin.

Your chest is heaving as his hands stroke down your body, pushing and pulling the skirt of your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. Your legs are still little more than jelly thanks to the intensity of your previous climax, but you manage to wrap them around his hips all the same, clenching in an effort to bring him closer.

“Fuck,” he growls, and he imparts one final nip at your breast before he pulls back, his hands hurriedly shoving the waistband of his trousers and briefs down his hips, just far enough that he can pull his cock free. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, ramrod hard, his tip already leaking with his desire.

He’s just as desperate for you as you are hopelessly in need of him.

Your eyes trace back up from where his length stands hard against his belly back to his face. A pretty pink blush has flushed his cheeks, spreading down his neck and chest, and his eyes are glassy with want.

“Levi,” you plead with a soft moan. “Baby, please —“

Baby. You hadn’t called him that often while you were together, but when you had, it was because you’d been so filled with affection — with love — that his name hadn’t been enough.

It was a slip, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex. In an instant his body is covering yours, and he’s moaning into your mouth as one hand ensnares itself in your hair. Between quick kisses, you swear you hear him whisper your name against your lips, before his tongue swipes back in and steals your breath away.

He breaks your kiss to shove a hand between your bodies, gripping himself at his base and giving his length one, solid pump. You shift, spreading your thighs wider, ready to take him and feel whole once more.

He lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance and pauses. Impatiently, you buck your hips forward, trying to take him in, but he twists back just far enough that your wetness can only brush against him, a mockery of how you truly need him.

Levi ignores your howl of frustration. “If you want it, then tell me you’ll come home.”

Your teeth clench hard enough to crack, but you won’t give in; not yet, at least.

He’d been right; you wanted him to sweat a little, and damn if you weren’t going to try and bring him to his knees, if only for a bit. At least until he had you back in the palm of his hand, begging for a crumb of his attention.

So with a gritty determination that borders spite, you lock your ankles against his backside and haul him into you with all your might.

“Jesus — fuck!” His yell echoes off the gleaming stainless steel appliances as you force him fully inside you, unwilling to let him win this battle so soon. He falls forward, an arm flinging out beside your head to catch himself.

Your boldness pays off, for Levi is forced remain still, panting hard and his eyes screwed shut as he adjusts to the sensation of being fully buried in your warmth after so long. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way the muscles in the arm needed by your head ripples under the force of his restraint. Slowly, his eyes open and the darkness in them makes you pulse and contract around his length, your stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Your mouth falls into a perfect “o” as he begins to move once more. He sits back on his knees, back straight, and his hands come to rest on your hips. He tugs you up just enough that your backside rests against the tops of his thighs, your back forced into an arch away from the floor. His gaze drops to where you’re connected, your base pressed flush against his, and the sight of himself embedded so deeply inside you makes the fingers on your hips tighten.

Slowly, and with careful precision, he withdraws his cock from your heat until only his tip remains lodged in your entrance. His eyes flick to yours and then he slams back into you, forcing your breath from your lungs. He repeats the movement again and again, until your lower lip is wobbling and your fingers are sinking into the corded muscles of his forearms, unable to do anything but cling on as he hammers into you.

The stillness of the kitchen is soon disrupted by the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your breathy moans and Levi’s pants. Between the sharpness of his hips and the cold tile of the kitchen floor, you know you’re likely to walk away from this with bruises, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. Especially not when Levi is moving like this, each of his thrusts as punishing as they are calculated.

“What’d I say, huh? No one can fuck you like I can.”

Levi more often than not was a soft lover. Kind; generous; prone to taking his time with you, so much so that it was nearly painful, usually leaving you in a tearful puddle on your mattress, begging him for more.

But now, he’s trying to remind you of what you’re leaving behind by leaving him; he’s punishing you as much as he’s begging you to stay.

The thought makes you moan out, wanton and desperate, and the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

His hips snap harshly against yours, choking off the sound in your throat. “So come back home,” and though you know he means for it to sound like an order, his eyes betray his urgency, his desperation to confirm that you hadn’t really meant it; that you’d given up on him in a moment of stress and exhaustion. “Quit being a brat and come home.”

You want to tell him you can’t — that the door had closed on your relationship the moment you’d pulled it shut behind you that day, but try as you might, the words will not form. All that spills from your mouth are broken utterances of his name, and even those flatten out into pathetic whines as Levi’s callused thumb finds your clit and begins to work, determined to haul you to the edge of your sanity and shove you over.

Your legs spasm around his waist as you begin your ascent to that sacred precipice. Your eyes are rolled back, your head thrashing from side to side as the pleasure, white hot and searing, mounts within you, that coil in your belly winding tight with every impassioned movement of his body against yours.

Distantly, you feel his hold on your hips tighten, and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppy. You know it’s only a matter of time before one of you succumbs to your release.

He growls your name, the last syllable tapering off in a small whine. “T-tell me — fuck — tell me where.”

Your eyes fly open and meet his, sobering awareness washing over you like a tidal wave.

Only once in the entire course of your relationship, did Levi ask where he was allowed to cum: the beginning. He’d asked the very first time you’d slept with him, legs in the air and over his shoulders, and once you’d made it clear you were on birth control, that had been the end of the discussion. You’d known that if you’d changed your mind, all you’d needed to do was tell him, and he’d adjust. Truthfully, however, you’d not minded the possibility of your birth control failing; you’d been content to let whatever happen, happen.

You’d told him as much, and he’d told you he shared the sentiment.

But that was then; this time, he’s giving you an out. A way to make sure this remains a one-time thing, a moment of weakness between two people too lost and broken to want anything different.

Levi’s eyes widen as the silence stretches between you, and his hips slow until he stops moving all together. The friction mounting where you’re connected is nearly unbearable, and you know the only way to relieve it is to give him an answer — whatever it may be.

This was it; the decision that will make or break you both. For once, he’s out the ball entirely in your court, and whatever comes after this moment of bliss — or frality — ends depends entirely upon you.

“Inside,” you barely manage to squeak, eyes wide and locked unwaveringly with his.

Even Levi hesitates. “Y/N —“

“Inside,” you repeat with slightly more conviction. “Cum inside me, Levi.”

“Your pill?” His hips have already resumed their pace, and you can feel how he’s grown harder at your insistence. But though his body is already moving in accord with your demand, his eyes look ready to bulge out of his skull when you manage the smallest shake your head.

“Inside.” You beg again, and you dig your heel harder into the steely muscle of his backside, limiting how far he’s able to pull his hips back; to pull out at all.

Because damn if he isn’t the only person in the world with whom you could fathom facing the consequences of fucking raw without even the safety net of the tiny blue pills still sitting at your pharmacy, waiting.

“Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, a tendon in his neck throbbing. “Fuck, you want me to give you a baby? So fuckin’ be it. As long as you’ll stay.”

He shifts over you, planting one foot on the ground so he can use his thigh to pin one of your legs back and to the side. His hand shoves under your other thigh, mimicking the position of your other leg as he mounts you, his full weight pressing you harder into the floor and keeping you spread wide for him.

Gone was the calculated precision of his earlier thrusts; now, Levi only presses his groin firmly against yours as he begins to rut, each rock of his hips pushing his length impossibly deeper into your slick warmth.

A cracked moan of his name signals that the blunt tip of his cock has brushed up against that spot within you that Levi knows will have you coming apart in minutes. And so, with a feral gleam sparking to life in his eyes, he shifts himself to press the head of his cock firmly against it, his hips rolling hard enough into you that you begin moving in time with him, your hips lifting up from the floor only to be pushed back by him as he works.

His balls are heavy against the underside of your ass as he continues to rut into you. You know he’s close when you feel him begin to twitch inside you, and the anticipation of being filled by him — so hot and sweet — makes the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

If you thought you were a mess before, the way Levi mounts you on the floor has you nearly screaming with pleasure, so electric and blinding that all sights of the kitchen fade to white, and your eyes flutter shut.

But Levi won’t allow you to check out; not now, not ever.

“Look at me.” His free hand grabs your jaw in an attempt to force you to meet his eyes. You want to give him what he wants, but it’s far too difficult, what with the way yours are glued to the back of your skull, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“L-Levi,” you try and plead, to explain. But he has always demanded more of you than you knew how to give.

“Look at me.” His fingers squeeze your cheeks, insistent. “If you want my baby, then you’re gonna look at me while you cum.”

He’s doing it to prove a point — to prove that he still has control over you, over whatever it is that remains between you. And you, helpless against the whims of your heart, let him have it, because you love him.

Fuck. You love him.

You force your eyelids open to meet his punishing stare, and then his lips are crashing down against yours in a fiery clash of lips and teeth as both of you fight to consume the other. But you lose first, breaking your kiss to cry out as your climax slams into you with the force of a freight train, knocking your breath clean from your lungs.

It’s powerful; the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in memory, one that sends your back arching sharply up from the cool kitchen tile below, and pulls a howl of Levi’s name from your mouth.

You’re still straddled among the clouds of your pleasure when Levi succumbs to his own. His body tenses for a moment and then he’s coming undone, his hips giving one last, mighty push before he explodes.

He cums with a strangled groan that he silences by searing his mouth against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he pulses within you.

You don’t try to stop the pleasured grin that forms on your mouth, nor the contented hums which vibrate in your chest as you hold him close to you, savoring the feeling of being warm and full of him.

You know you might regret the decision later; but there, spread out across his — your — kitchen floor, Levi’s full weight bearing down upon you as he continues to flood you with his release, you can’t help but feel that maybe this wasn’t the toxic choice at all. Perhaps this is simply a manifestation of everything that is good in your life.

Good. That’s what you decide to tell yourself as you feel Levi’s lips press sleepily against your neck. This is good; this is right.

Because this — he — is your home.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #aot #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot smut #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #captain levi #levi x you #attack on titan fanfiction

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theemporium · 8 months

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[1.8k] when both hughes brothers think the pretty girl at the bar is way too out of quinn's league, not realising she is very much his girlfriend they were about to meet.

not totally convinced i like this but it's the first quinn piece so who knows

“There’s no fucking way, dude.”

“Mhm.”

“She’s out of your league, just drop it.”

“I don’t know, I think I could pull it off.”

Jack raised his brows at his older brother, examining his face like he was trying to work out if he was being serious or not. However, when Quinn showed no signs of joking around—not even a hint of a smile—the boy was inclined to snort and shake his head. Luke, sitting on the other side of his oldest brother, could only join in.

“I love you, but you’re fucking delusional,” Luke told him before his eyes glanced back over to where you were sat at the bar. “Not to be funny, dude, but she looks like she’d walk all over you.”

Quinn just lifted his bottle of beer to his lips, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to break out.

With the chaos of the hockey season and the summer months spent at the lake house, it was rare for his brothers to find a chance to come up to Vancouver. They flew up just as often as he came down to Jersey, which wasn’t enough by any of their likings but it was the unfortunate way things worked.

Unless they were playing a game—like they were in a few days.

With no games or pre-planned duties beforehand, it was easy for Jack and Luke to come up a little earlier than the rest of the team to spend a few days with Quinn. And he was glad to have them up in Vancouver.

Sometimes, it was hard not to feel a little isolated during the season when both his brothers played for the same team and he was left by himself. He wouldn’t change playing for the Canucks, and he adored his team. But he also adored his brothers and maybe, just sometimes, he missed having them be the biggest pain in his ass. Only every once in a while though, not that he would ever admit that to their faces.

But the distance between them and the chaos of the hockey season meant that sometimes it was hard to keep up to date with each other’s lives beyond the messages and odd phone calls they could slip in here or there.

And, to his brothers’ defence, he probably should have told them about you before they arrived in Vancouver.

But the thing between you and Quinn started as a small experiment, no real labels and just a lot of fucking chemistry that both of you were willing to explore during the pre-season training. It didn’t seem like a big deal, or something worth telling his brothers about.

Yet, the weeks went on and the relationship between you two grew stronger and, yeah, it took him a little bit longer than he cared to admit to grow the balls to ask you out. But he got to call you his now so he wasn’t all that bothered with the details.

But you being his girlfriend should have been a detail he shared with his brothers, along with the fact the night out to grab a drink at the local bar near his apartment wasn’t just a random decision but an opportunity to introduce you to them.

And that really was the plan.

However the second they walked into the bar, Jack and Luke had nabbed a table and didn’t give Quinn a chance to explain himself as they waited for his ‘friend’ to show up (not that Quinn used that word, once again, his brothers were just idiots who made assumptions). And Quinn was left staring helplessly at where you sat at the bar, sipping your drink as you probably waited for them to arrive.

And just when Quinn was about to open his mouth again, his brothers picked up on his staring at the pretty girl by the bar and did what brothers do best—rip the absolute shit out of Quinn for thinking he even had a chance.

And Quinn did what oldest brothers do best—he let them continue to embarrass themselves before he proved them both wrong after he had his fun with the situation.

“Let’s make a bet,” Quinn said casually, knowing full well he was about to exploit the competitiveness that ran through all three of them.

Jack’s eyes glimmered in interest. “Go on.”

“I get her number and you both have to give me a hundred bucks,” he said as he glanced between his two brothers.

Luke’s brows furrowed together. “And if she rejects you?”

“I’ll give you both two hundred each,” Quinn stated. “And you get bragging rights that you were correct.”

“Deal,” Jack said without even thinking twice.

“Wait, wait,” Luke quickly spoke up, giving the boy an exasperated look before turning back to Quinn. “You can’t tell her anything about the bet though, that’s cheating.”

Quinn raised his brows. “You don’t think I’m a good sport?”

Luke just shrugged. “Just covering all our bases.”

“Now, go on and embarrass yourself!” Jack grinned as he slapped his older brother on the back in a faux comforting gesture. “We will totally not be recording you from way back here.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “You’re on.”

The oldest Hughes said nothing more as he chugged the last dregs of his beer before stepping away from the table. His lips were pressed together to try and repress his grin as he walked away from his brothers and towards your spot at the bar.

Something in his chest eased a little as he closed the distance between you, his fingers itching to just reach out and hold you close after barely seeing you over the last two days since his brothers arrived. The messages were not enough, not when he was selfish and spoiled having you around him almost every day since the spark between you two started.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

Your head snapped around at the familiar voice, and instantly a smile broke out on your face when you saw your boyfriend sliding into the spot beside you.

His fingers skimmed along the small of your back, the touch small and subtle before his warm palm was pressed against you. It was a comfort you grew to enjoy around Quinn, the fact he always needed to be touching you in some way, shape or form—even if he didn’t realise he was doing. Whether it was his knuckles skimming down your arm, or a hand resting on your ankle when you threw your feet on his lap during movie night, Quinn Hughes always liked the comfort of knowing you were there with him.

And after two days of not seeing you, the palm on the small of your back was almost like a reassurance you were actually sitting next to him and you were not running off again any time soon.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned as you turned on your stool, spreading your legs slightly so the boy could easily stand between them. “Where’s your brothers?”

“They grabbed a table by the back,” he said, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as it rode up slightly, exposing a small slit of skin along your back just above the waistband of your jeans. “You excited to meet them?”

“So excited I almost threw up on the way here,” you told him with a sheepish smile.

“They’re gonna love you,” Quinn reassured you.

“Aren’t you meant to be better at giving pep talks?” You murmured as your hand itched to reach for his, to intertwine your fingers and hold onto him.

“Nah, that’s the captain’s job,” he murmured with a small grin before he nodded vaguely towards the table his brothers were at. “C’mon, gorgeous, you know I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you deadpanned before straightening your spine. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“You ready?” He asked, his brows raised slightly.

“Absolutely not,” you breathed out with a shaky smile. “But that’s what the two margaritas I had before you got here were for.”

Quinn’s lips twitched upwards as he lifted his hand from your back, raising it to gently hold your face in both his palms instead. “It’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”

You leaned in before you overthought it, enjoying the first kiss you were able to get from him after over forty-eight hours of nothing. You sunk into his embrace, your fingers looped into the belt hoops of his jeans as you tugged him closer, a needy noise sounding from the back of your throat that had him smiling against your lips.

“Easy, tiger,” he murmured, his nose playfully nudging yours.

“It was for confidence,” you said shamelessly as you pulled back, an innocent expression on his face.

Quinn huffed out a laugh. “Sure.”

The defenceman let you intertwine your hands together before he began to lead you through the bustling crowd at the bar, his hand squeezing yours to reassure you were behind him. But, his attention was momentarily drawn away from you as he noticed his brothers’ table a few feet away—and more importantly, the absolutely gobsmacked and baffled expressions both his younger brothers were wearing.

Their jaws were hitting the table by the time Quinn stood on the other side, pulling you forward until his arm was wound around your waist to hold you close to his side.

“Guys, meet my girlfriend.”

Luke blinked, his face absolutely blank.

However, Jack’s reaction was a lot more animated.

“Girlfriend?!” Jack spluttered out before shaking his head, a noise mixed between a scoff and a laugh leaving his lips as he pointed between the two of you. “This is cheating! You were in cahoots!”

Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “Cahoots?”

“Cahoots!” Jack repeated passionately.

Quinn only shrugged, glancing at you before he glanced back towards his brothers. “Say what you want but I’m pretty sure I won the bet.”

“The bet?” You questioned.

“They didn’t think you were in my league,” Quinn mused, a glint of mischief in his eyes that told you more than enough. It took mere seconds to put together what the boy had just pulled off, and you could only snort in response.

“You’re evil,” you murmured with a shake of your head.

“I agree with your girlfriend!” Jack huffed out as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Stop being dramatic, Rowdy.”

“You’re a cheat!” Jack shot back.

“Luke doesn’t seem to think so,” Quinn retorted, and all eyes turned to the youngest Hughes who looked up from his phone, a blush painted across his cheeks.

“Oh no, I think you’re a dirty cheat,” he said, his lips pressed together. “I was just messaging the family group chat so we don’t have to pay.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Dick.”

“Be nice,” you playfully scolded with a shake of your head. “You were the one that tricked them.”

“Their fault for being stupid enough to fall for it,” Quinn shrugged.

“You never told us you had a girlfriend!”

“All I’m hearing is excuses.”

“That’s it, I’m calling mom.”

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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generalsmemories · 10 months

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The general's hair

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "If requests are open, can I request Reader tugging Jing Yuan's hair to keep him from dozing or just wanted him to pay attention? You can choose the "severity" of the tug =DD" requested by anonymous

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, suggestive scenes (not nsfw, but you can tell it's hinting at it lmfao), humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: dear lord we almost hit 500 jing yuan lovers. as he deserves, truly. thank you all for liking my two works so far!! here's another one while i still work on the lenghty angst fic of mine hehe. p.s please don't question my titles, i am very much terrible at them-

One of Jing Yuan's striking features is his voluminous hair that adorns his head like a lion's mane. Tied into a high half ponytail while the rest of his locks flow freely down to his shoulders. It's eye catching for sure, with a red ribbon securing the ponytail in place, it's hard to not turn one's head when he takes a walk outside of the divine seat to escape his duties.

You're well aware of how tempting his hair is to touch everyone. It's the one thing you always reach for whenever you're bored after all.

The first thing you always do whenever he's fresh out of a shower is brush it out while running your fingers through it, or make sure every drop of soap reaches every strand when you take a bath together. A pastime activity Jing Yuan adores doing with you, almost sounding like he's purring in delight whenever you take some extra time to massage his scalp while you wash his hair.

It's also the first thing you would always grab onto to ground yourself when Jing Yuan wants to show his love for you more intimately and passionately. Your primary instinct to pull his strands while trying to get him so much closer to you, a breathless plea for him leaving your lips every now and then. Your husband takes great pleasure from this, merely chuckling while leaning down to press his lips to your ears. Gently telling you to breathe while pressing himself closer to your own sweaty body. During these moments his hair cascades down the side of his face, making him seem a lot more ethereal than usual. And while you can hardly breathe from the sensory overload you always somehow manage to slide your fingers from his lips to thread through his hair with a wry smile, whispering how beautiful he is.

His hair has unfortunately for him recently become the thing you have pulled whenever you notice him start to doze around whether that be in meetings or in general. It was initially something you had done out of desperation since no matter how many times you told him to listen, your husband would already nod off a few minutes after promising you that he wouldn't. Whenever you had complained he has joked that your voice was too soothing to listen to regarding reports that he could fall asleep to it.

So you tried to let one of the cloud knights or Qingzu deliver the reports to thwart that, but then he would downright not pay any attention at all. Which would make some meetings run longer than normal.

God forbid if Fu Xuan even tried to attempt to deliver a report, lest she wanted to get poked fun at or have more people fall asleep other than the general.

So while you were trying yet again to give a report for the general, you were suddenly struck with the memory of one of the many nights you had spent together. The nights where the general would look so much more awake whenever you pulled at his hair from desperation.

… Hey if it worked there, it should have some sort of effect now too, right?

So without looking too suspicious, you went behind the seat. When you passed Jing Yuan's laid back form, your available hand that was not holding the papers reached out to the same high ponytail you had just tied a few hours before and pulled with enough strength that made his head jerk away from his resting hand.

A surprised moan suddenly rang out throughout the Divine Foresight.

And you thanked the Aeons that the only ones present at that moment were the same guards stationed at the very entrance and Qingzu, who only gave you a deadpanned look.

But when Jing Yuan turned to look at you, more awake than he had ever been in any morning and eyes filled with confusion, you were sure you had hit the jackpot to make every meeting go faster.

Good news for you and everyone else, not so good news for Jing Yuan though.

“The second matter of the day is the replacement of the newly appointed Cloud Knights who will be transferred to the Luofu from another fleet…”

“Ouch- Dear, pull my hair any harsher than that and I’m afraid you won’t have any strands to brush out in the near future,” Jing Yuan whines when your hand lets go of his high ponytail when he has successfully sobered up from his nth impromptu nap of the day.

You merely glance over at him with a raised eyebrow before walking away, “General, please be aware that you have a meeting with Lady Fu Xuan in a couple of minutes and these are just the briefings of what she will tell you personally,” you respond back, Jing Yuan letting out a huff as he leans back into his seat, rubbing the spot you had just pulled a few minutes ago with knitted eyebrows.

“... Let alone something to grab later tonight-”

“Jing Yuan.”

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #star rail x reader #hsr x you #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

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gay-dorito-dust · 20 days

Note

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his gn s/o asking him randomly if they can hug him in private?

Sunday: adheres to your every want and need without complaint.

He’d easily have a room cleared for you within seconds and make it known that no one should dare disrupt his ‘meeting’ with you, unless it was absolutely necessary.

And even then he’s the one making the final decision on whether or not the issue at hand was really worth his time and resources; which for most of the time they weren’t.

Sunday would more than likely make private hugs a thing in the future. He knew how busy he was and how little time that gives him with you that he felt as though somethings had to change as a result; Also it acted as the perfect guise for him to keep an close eye on you as you held onto him tightly.

He’s selfish and greedy with you and your affection and will take it whenever he felt necessary. Sunday was a hoarder in his own right but mainly with you and who he was forced to share you with because if Sunday had it his way, you’d never leave the room nor his arms unless he said so.

Boothill:

Smirking bastard this one.

Despite the fact that -apart from his face- he couldn’t actually feel anything, he wasn’t one to ignore you wanting to hug him because of it.

He, much like Gallagher, is the kind who’d thoughtfully enjoy just spending the day having you in his arms as having you close was his remedy for almost everything.

However he would be the type to tickle your sensitive spots for the fun of it, and getting to hear your squeals of excitement followed by the sound of your laughter as it makes him happy seeing you happy from something he did.

Does he hate that he can’t feel you against him? Yes.

Will he try to squeeze you closer in a desperate attempt to feel you, even if it that if was faint? Also yes. He just hoped that he could one day trick himself into thinking that he could feel you, but he spent too long coming to terms with that fact that he had lost that ability long ago.

But he keeps this all as far away from you as possible and decided to focus on the warmth your smile brings him instead to compensate.

Welt:

Is more than willing in giving you a hug.

He might think that something was wrong and that you needed some privacy so that you could confess to him your worries in confidence.

So upon arriving somewhere void of anyone and anything, Welt would ask if there was something that you wanted to get off your chest, only for you to tell him that you just wanted to hug him without having so many eyes on you when doing so.

Welt, being the most understand man ever, completely understands where your coming from and would let you hug him for as long as your heart wished. For he simply wanted you to feel as though he was there for you, regardless of how silly or stupid you might think your issues were, he wanted you to know that someone cared and that someone was him.

You’d probably end up sleeping him his arms as he was just so comfortable to be pressed up against and warm. Welt would find himself staring at you for far longer than he probably should, smiling dopily, before helping you to his room or yours where he would soon fall asleep also.

Dan heng;

Isn’t that great with PDA but is more expressive of his emotions behind closed doors. So the moment you asked for him to give you a hug in private, Dan Heng was more than willing to oblige.

After all he’s more prone to giving you affection and sweet words when you were away from everyone else. Not to say that he doesn’t shows that he cares for you in front of other people, but it would probably be a small group of people you both know, whom Dan Heng would feel comfortable with showing that side of himself towards.

Other than that rare expedition, most -if not- all affection was reserved for when you two were alone together.

His inner dragon noodle thrives off of your affection and warmth to the point where Dan Heng becomes flustered and embarrassed by it. You on the other hand thought it was extremely cute that he softly purrs when you burrow yourself into his arms.

‘You’re purring.’ You’d muse, kissing under his jaw.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Dan Heng says, face extremely flustered as the sound of his purrs continued.

He may not be all that vocal but he didn’t need to when his body told you everything you needed to know in the moment. He loved spending quieter moments with you and holding you close as it gave him his much needed reassurance that you very much appreciated him still. That he still had a purpose in your life to fulfil.

Gallagher:

Will agree within a heartbeat because any time with you is time well spent in his opinion.

He may or may not use you as an excuse to have the day off, just so he could hold you for the rest of the day, to the point it might as well become a cuddle session.

Give him any opportunity to cuddle and be lazy with you? Count. Him. In.

Also he’d probably would bite you at random points but you were made more then aware of this habit of his. So you’ve had enough time to make your peace with that fact, unfortunately you were also left with the unenviable position of having to explain why you were covered in bite marks, but that’s neither here nor there.

Gallagher would more than gladly spend the rest of his day with you in his arms no matter what and you weren’t one to argue with him as he was practically a walking furnace, and he made for an comfortable pillow on top of that too. Not to mention that he -in general- smelt amazing, which may or may not have been a primary cause for you to somehow manage to fall asleep in his arms a hundred percent of the time.

Blade:

Blade only accepts to hug you in utter privacy because PDA isn’t his thing. So at first he might not seem at all interested in giving you a hug, but the moment you mentioned that you’d want the hug in private, Blade grunted as he grabbed your arm and dragged you elsewhere from prying eyes.

‘This should work.’ He’d then say to himself before looking back at you and raising an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’ You ask.

‘Aren’t you going to hug me?’ He relies.

‘Well you never really agreed to be hugged, you just grunted and dragged me here so…’ you trailed off as you were then brought against his chest as his arms kept your in place.

The hug itself was stiff, rigid and was a little awkward but all you have to do was practice a little patience and soon you’d feel him slowly start to relax under your touch. He’s not the type whom people feel as though they could come to him for affection or comforting, affirming words because that’s just not Blade, and he will agree to this also for it not being his forte.

For you however, Blade will try to compensate for those shortcomings by any means necessary. He doesn’t try for others nor put in the effort because why would he when it would ultimately amount to nothing?

but you? His partner? He genuinely tries but is secretly happy when you show compassion as to he just can’t.

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thef1diary · 3 months

Text

Little Big Fan | Four

- Little Big Celebration

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.6k

After getting over the initial shock of seeing him, you greeted him. "I thought you were room service, I ordered some food."

He smiled but then he asked the question he's been meaning to ask since he couldn't find you after the celebrations, "why did you leave so fast?"

"Isabella watched you hold the trophy then she fell asleep. I didn't want the noise to disturb her," you explained, and he nodded in understanding. "Is that why we're still standing here, because she's sleeping inside?"

You shook your head, "as long as you keep it down." You moved out of the way to let him inside and he saw your favourite show queued up on the tv.

"Looks like you already have plans for the night," Max commented and you chuckled, "This is how my nights are usually spent."

"Well then I probably shouldn't ask if you want to come celebrate with us." Both of you sat on the couch, facing each other. "That would mean going to a club, which I can't do but you should go celebrate your win."

Based on the celebrations you saw on the podium, you knew the afterparty would be even better. A little part of you wished that you could go, but you were content with how you've been spending your nights lately.

"Congratulations by the way," you added. "Do you want me to leave?" Max asked bluntly which made you frown. "No, but if you have plans—"

"My plans are here, with you," he interrupted you, making you shut your mouth with his response. A smile threatened to grow on your face but you managed to compose it. "Plus I can celebrate next weekend at the next race," Max added, a smug smile on his face and you couldn't hold back yours any longer.

"That confident in your winning capabilities?" You asked with a teasing tone behind your words. He shrugged, "if I don't think I am the best, then I won't be the best."

There was another knock at your door, and this time you were certain it was room service. Fortunately, you ordered enough food so you could share with Max.

Watching your show was at the bottom of the priority list, replaced by wanting to keep the conversation going with Max.

"Don't tell Brad about this," Max spoke, pointing to the meal that surely wasn't part of his diet. "Oh no, the champion is a rule breaker," you teased him, earning a smile from him in return.

Max looked at the closed bedroom door, "did she have fun today?"

"So much fun! I think she would start asking me when we're going to another race," you told him, the excitement on Isabella's face is something you wouldn't forget anytime soon.

"All you have to do is ask, I can get you the passes for the next race." Based on his tone, he wasn't joking and you quickly shook your head.

"No, you've already done so much for us; the hotel, flight tickets, caps and whatnot," you explained, but he was quick to retort. "I don't want to sound like a stuck up asshole, but the cost doesn't matter as much as the experience."

You couldn't help but chuckle, "maybe another time, Isabella is starting school soon too."

"First grade?" He asked, and you nodded, "yeah, she's growing up so fast."

"And what about you, did you enjoy this weekend?" He looked at you in anticipation, hoping you enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours.

"Maybe not as much as Isabella, but it was a very nice experience and I still can't believe you do this for a living." He chuckled at your response, but then you added, "and what about you?"

"What about me?" He asked, and you clarified, "did you enjoy this weekend, home race and all?"

He seemed taken aback by the question but he answered nonetheless. "A lot better than it usually is," the meaning behind his words was clear to you, especially with the way he looked at you.

"If you told me earlier, I would've worn orange for the race." Max shook his head, "Then people would've thought that you were supporting McLaren."

An idea popped in your mind and you slapped your hand on his thigh while exclaiming, "I should've taken the cape from Daniel!"

Your hand remained on his thigh but you didn't seem to realize, and he didn't move it away either. "I'll get you one next year," Max suggested.

Your focus shifted away from Max as soon as you heard footsteps in the room Isabella was sleeping in. "Hold on," you stood up and went to check on her.

As soon as you opened the door, Isabella paused in her step, looking at you with a sheepish smile on her face.

"Angel, are you hungry?" You asked, knowing that there were a bit of leftovers. She shook her head, then pointed at the suitcase or rather the teddy bear sitting on the suitcase.

You passed it to her and she climbed back in bed. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"No, mama, I'm tired." On cue, she yawned as you walked closer to her. Tucking her in properly, you placed a kiss on her forehead and sat by her side, brushing your fingers through her hair until she was sound asleep. Which again, didn't take long.

You noticed the glittery clips still in her hair from earlier in the day. You carefully began taking them out one by one while trying not to wake her up. Then, after placing another kiss on her forehead, you left the room.

"Everything okay?" Max asked as soon as you sat down on the couch. You nodded, "yeah, she went back to sleep."

"The race really tired her out today," he smiled because of his next thought, "seems like she's the one who raced instead of me."

You chuckled, "looks like it." Then you added, "I know you're a professional and all but it was just as much fun as it was scary watching you drive so fast."

"So you're not a big fan of fast cars?" He didn't comment on the fact that you only mentioned him while there were nineteen other drivers on the grid.

"That depends, will your follow up question be if I would trust you to drive me around?" You responded with a question and he had a sheepish smile on his face, "maybe."

"I guess I'll have to get in a car with you one day to know the answer to both questions."

Your conversation was interrupted by a call on Max's phone. He muttered a curse before declining it. "Why don't we watch your show?" Max suggested, leaning back on the couch comfortably.

You didn't ask him about his other plans, as he had already assured you earlier that the only plan he has for tonight are with you.

It was possible that he wanted to spend more time with you before you leave tomorrow evening, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought.

The thought of leaving didn't sit with you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind and focused on the present, with him.

You grabbed the remote and pressed play, shuffling a tad bit closer to Max.

Somewhere along the way, a few episodes later, Max's arm rested on the back of the couch. His fingers lightly grazed your shoulder every time either of you moved.

Max's phone rang two more times. The second time he picked up and quickly muttered, "I'm busy." Then he turned it off, and apologized to you.

"It's okay, you're the most popular man of the night, people want to see you," you shrugged casually.

"Yeah well, I don't want to see them." You chuckled, liking his bluntness.

It was pretty late when he decided to leave, both of you were so tired but neither wanted the night the end. You opened the door for him, but as he stepped out, he turned to look at you.

"I'll drop you two at the airport tomorrow, just let me know when you're leaving." Once again he said it so casually that you had to remind yourself that he only knew you for a few days. Although it didn't feel like it.

"You don't have to," you reminded him that he was under no obligation to send you off. He shook his head, "I want to, if you let me."

You couldn't say no to him, and perhaps it was a little selfish because you wanted to spend all the time there was with him. You haven't been selfish in a while and it is about time to change that.

"I'll text you tomorrow then. Isabella is going to be very happy knowing she'll see you tomorrow as well." You stated, not mentioning that you would be happy to see him too, using your daughter as an excuse. But then, you didn’t lie either because Isabella would be overjoyed as well.

"Trust me, I'll be very happy too," he added with a smile, preferring not to tell you how delighted he would be to see you as much as he was to see Isabella. That information was best kept to himself.

Then he left. While Max hadn't properly celebrated a race win tonight like he usually did, this sort of celebration felt better than any others.

He walked away with a smile on his face that wasn't related to his victory at all. He was just looking forward to seeing you and Isabella again.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @namgification

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #thef1diary fic #f1 imagine #little big fan fic #fluff

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patriwoso · 4 months

Text

Mami and Old Mama • Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso

Alexia’s daughter reunites with Jenni at the World Cup, and reminds everyone of how much she loves her.

When Mami and Jenni broke up, you were very upset.

Jenni spent all her time at yours and mami's apartment. The change of routine didn't sit well with you.

No longer did you come home to Jenni cuddles on the couch. She didn't put you to bed or give you a bubble bath at night.

You didn't like this.

"Mami" You whine, one particular night a few days before you were set to leave for the world cup.

"Sí, bebita." She turns around and sits beside you on her bed.

"I see Jenni in the plane?"

Mami sighed, pulling your small body into her lap. "Sí" She told you for the hundredth time.

"Jenni will be on the plane, she'll be with us all the time in New Zealand."

"Good. I love Jenni." You tell her, leaning into the warmth of her body.

"I know you do."

When the world cup came around, you were beyond happy to see Jenni everyday again. And she was more than happy to have her little sidekick back.

After Mami got you dressed every morning, you'd head down for team breakfast.

"Jenni!" You gasp, running to stand beside her in the food line. "Look" You lift up your kangaroo stuffed animal you got in the airport.

"Wow! Have you given it a name?"

You think hard, looking at the small brown animal and wondering what you should name it.

"Bounce"

"Bounce?" She chuckles.

"Kangaroo bounce" You grin, holding her hand and leaning your head onto her thigh as you wait for breakfast.

"C'mon y/n" Mami taps your shoulder, not wanting to cause Jenni any hassle with your presence.

"No, I don't mind having her for a while. It's alright, Ale." The taller woman smiles, looking down at you and grinning.

"Only if you're sure."

"More than sure."

Jenni helps you to get your chosen breakfast foods onto your plate, as well as getting herself something to eat.

You chose a slice of toast, fruits and a sausage. Not a fan of breakfast so early in the day.

As Jenni carries your plate over to the table where Laia, Misa and Mariona sat, you put your hand on the back of her leg as she had no free hand to hold.

She makes you put your kangaroo down, Misa tells you that she can keep it safe on the window ledge beside her so it doesn't get dirty whilst you eat.

The goalkeeper takes it from you and props it up so it overlooks the table as you start your morning meal.

"Jenni please help" You hold up your sausage, wanting her to cut it up for you.

"Of course, princesa." She takes the meat and puts it back on your plate, using her knife to split it into smaller pieces.

"Gracias Ma-" You stop yourself from calling Jenni Mama, the name you were so used to saying in the years she lived in your home.

You don't look up at anyway, knowing they're sending glances your way, then to Alexia, then back to you.

More piece of fruit get shoved into your mouth to take the attention away, Mami Alexia having to remind you from the other side of the table to eat nicely.

After breakfast, the team were allowed a free morning, no team gym session until later in the day.

Mariona suggests a walk through a forest. Mami debates whether to take you or not but you beg and beg and beg and tell her you’ll be on your best behaviour and will be a good girl. She lets you go with them.

At first you have fun, dragging sticks with Laia and showing Misa flowers you find.

Jenni helps you do up your coat when it gets a bit cold, you hold her hand for a while as you walk.

“MAMI!” You cry, letting go of Jenni and running over to Mami Alexia.

“Tired” You put your arms up, hands doing grabby motions so she picks you up.

Mami picks you up and puts you on her hip.

You lay your head on her shoulder and grasp her collar in your hand as your eyes flutter closed.

The walk carries on a while, your swapped around between Mami and Jenni’s arms, Misa taking a turn too at one point when you weren’t awake enough to complain about it not being Mami or Mama’s arms.

The group decide to stop at some picnic tables close back to the car.

Mami cradles you against her chest. You’re pretty much dead to the world, suckling on your thumb to keep your soothed and calm.

They let you nap for a while as they drink coffee and try New Zealand snacks.

When you wake, your back in Jenni’s arms, giving Mami a rest.

You eyes open and you push your face into her chest, the light hurting your head.

“Sleepy girl, are you awake?” Jenni coos stroking your cheek with the back of her finger.

“Sí” You whisper, holding two of her fingers in your hand. “I sleep.”

“You can sleep again on the way back to the hotel pretty. C’mon.”

You refuse to walk, staying on Jenni’s hip as she carries you back to the parking lot.

Mami peppers your face with kisses and tries to take you from Jenni’s arms.

“No I stay.” You ask.

“You’re only going back in the car, mi bebita.” Mami promises.

“Stay with Mama, miss old mama lots” You look at Jenni with big eyes. She has a tear form in the corner of one of her own.

“Old mama can sit with you in the car.” Mami giggles softly.

You watch as she looks at Jenni, smiling softly and mouthing something which you can’t figure out.

“I love my mami and mama.” You speak up, putting a hand on each of their cheek and giggling.

“We love you too.” Mami kisses you, Mama dropping a few on your cheek also.

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #woso x imagine #fcb femeni #woso fic #espwnt #woso imagine #woso one shot #alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas x imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso x imagine

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground. With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe.

After some arguing, you face each other. You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom.

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily. With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed.

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence. Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent. It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.

“My life is a joke,” you say.

“Yeah,” Seungmin says. “Your life is a joke. Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers. You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare.

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks.

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm. It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove. “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”

This fucking guy.

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met. A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group. You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way. You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy. Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle. You clashed from your first introduction.

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point.

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin. This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours.

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered. You have already spent three days at each other’s throats. Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again.

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket. With Seungmin, it was on sight.

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating.

Then Minho returned. He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you. You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail. There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you. The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho.

Minho dangled the keys in your face.

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys. That kitty has claws, mean ones. Not even you mess with Lee Minho.

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed. You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep.

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Wait, you’re a freak, right? Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow. You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks. “What the hell. Why? What is it?”

“You sound curious.”

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve. You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply. The tips of his ears are faintly red.

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.” He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion. “Keep it to yourself. Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor. But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation.

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks. “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer. You know, a strap-on for wearing out? A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?” You list everything with the same pleasant smile. “Big one too.”

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed.

“Right now?” he says. His eyes drift down to your jeans. “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it.

“You’re lying,” he says. He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs. It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him. He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly. “Whoa, wait, seriously?”

“Dude!” You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy. “What the hell, man. You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way! I can still feel it!”

“You can?” He pokes it.

“Yes.” You swat him away. “Depending on position.”

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head. “Wow. You have a high opinion of yourself. Thought you were gonna get lucky?”

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own.

“Not that well,” he says. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says. “I should have known.” He sighs as if disappointed in you.

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say.

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.”

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?” You sigh. “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.” He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard.

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he replies, warily. “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!” He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say. “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension. And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.”

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection. “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us. There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?”

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest. It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath. His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says. “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say.

“Shut up.” He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around. “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back. You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance. “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright. “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.”

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.”

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts. Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket. Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff.

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back. You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm.

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back.

“I’m not doing anything. Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you. Tongue out, he dives at your head. He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back.

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast. “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because you suck,” he says.

He manages to get his glasses back. He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face.

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other. Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips. Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands. He strains for one pitiful push. His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall.

You lift an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again. All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy. Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily. He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants. You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric. When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too. He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you.

“What the hell was that?” he asks.

You let go of his hips immediately.

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again. You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you.

“Can you feel that?” he asks. He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas.

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first. “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly. This… is… one of them.”

“Wow,” he says. He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins. “So… you can feel when I do this?” He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours.

“Ohmyff—” You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you. “Dude.”

“Just checking,” he says. He grabs the headboard and pushes again. The thud is a soft one.

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up. You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back. His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard. His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours. He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses. Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room. He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly.

“Moan or yell or something. Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly. “Since that mouth never stops.”

“Why don’t you moan?”

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.” To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion. The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps.

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you. That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it. It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder. You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove. His eyes go to your arm.

“Well?” you say.

He looks at you. It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath.

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat. You are certain only you can hear it. He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot. Hot as fucking hell. Oh god. You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin. Absolutely not.

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it. He cants his hips and falls back again. He moans one more time.

Ah, you think. Fuck.

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion.

You clear your throat. Seungmin is still staring at you. You stare back, then your gaze drifts. The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up. You gulp.

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation. His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them. He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you.

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?” He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.”

“You know what I mean, smartass.”

“If anything yours is more real,” he says. “Your dick is more deliberate than mine. I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.”

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue. You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried.

“So,” is all you say, at a loss.

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright. You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans. You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously. He even snarls.

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer. He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button. He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down.

You let go of his hand, surprised. He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants.

He balks at it.

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you.

Fuck. It is literally right by his face. It looks obscene. Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin.

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice. “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline. He even cackles a little. “Action,” he repeats. “Not ‘making love?’” His tone is drole.

“Not really the making love type,” you say.

“Wow,” he says. His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face. He pushes his glasses up his nose. He glances up at you with that evil smile. “Same,” he says.

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it.

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it. Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal.

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound. He licks his lips.

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully. “Tastes funny. Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak. “In a way.”

“Got it.”

Is this even turning him on? His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm. He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it.

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit. He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you.

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops. He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth.

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs. You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural. “Yes.”

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says. “I thought it would be more complicated. I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?”

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Yeah.” What the fuck else are you supposed to say?

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it. He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself.

“Oh,” he says. He looks at his fingertips. “I see.”

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth.

“Right,” you say. “Got it.”

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband. You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest.

“Slippers first,” he says.

He is just being difficult. You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper. You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot. He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart. You shake your head but remove that one too. Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest. His glasses slip a little again. His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them.

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form.

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband.

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open.

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick. “No way. No way.”

Kim Seungmin. Blazer-and-tie good boy. Pristine socialite. Arrogant snob. High society darling. Spoiled brat. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy.

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick.

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him.

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb. It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake.

“S-surprised?” he asks.

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit.

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you. That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down.

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected. He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down. You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him.

“Louder,” you say. “Remember?”

“Oh, right.” He drops his hand. “Your stupid plan. Okay. Continue.” He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows.

He is so annoying. He really does have a pretty dick, though. Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him. He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully.

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you. He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching. It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage.

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips. You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss. It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours. He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity. The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too.

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth.

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder. He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence. Eventually he lifts his head and exhales. He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins.

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.”

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual. You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks. It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed. You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor.

You look over Seungmin who was watching too. When you make eye contact, you both start laughing. It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one. Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own. He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open. It smashes into the wall, startling both of you.

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room. He slams the door shut behind him.

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys.

“Told you,” you say.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face. It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind.

Your wrist is still cuffed. He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard. You tug on it then look at him.

“Kim Seungmin,” you say.

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks. “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once. It goes without saying you both won this round.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #skz x reader #seungmin x reader

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taintedtort · 5 months

Text

" NO NUT NOVEMBER! "

summary. how long they last during NNN

characters. toji, gojo, sukuna

warnings. gn!reader, no nut november, suggestive

a/n. this prompt pt3 but with jjk. also new post layout thing

TOJI

☆ he rolled his eyes when you told him about the challenge. he loves sex and wants to be able to relieve himself whenever he wants, so why should he deny himself? he makes you beg for him to participate, finding it funny when you actually did and laughed in your face. he’s a man of his word though, and ended up attempting to last the entire month. got about a week in before you were the one begging him to touch you. he endlessly teased you, of course, taunting and mocking about how you were the one who wanted him to not fuck you. he gave you want you wanted eventually, but he definitely edged you for a while first.

"if you really want me to do that stupid challenge, then beg."

"you want me to fuck you? god, you’re pathetic. you’re the one who suggested this, remember?"

GOJO

☆ you egged him on, telling him there’s no way he would be able to beat NNN. he wanted to prove you wrong, so he very confidently accepted the challenge. it ended up being a game of teasing, you walking around the house half naked to work him up, and him trailing his hand down your body before pulling away with a teasing grin. he lasted a bit longer than you thought, finally having enough about two and a half weeks in. you two were making out, and when he made a move to tug his hard cock out of his pants, you tried to stop him and reminded him of the challenge. he pouted at you, promising to not cum and that he just missed feeling you around him, and you folded. he came, of course, and honestly couldn’t care less.

"i won’t cum, don’t worry. just wanna feel you squeezin' my cock."

SUKUNA

☆ similar to toji, he also had no interest in participating in NNN. he scowled at you in confusion and annoyance when you kept bugging him about it, and eventually gave in just to shut you up. he made a rule where you couldn’t touch yourself though, forcing you to partake as well. he didn’t understand the concept at all. not only was he denying himself pleasure, it was also denying you release as well, so he wasn’t sure why you insisted. he has self restraint and was able to go three weeks without much trouble. though, he did punish you consistently throughout those weeks. just because neither of you could cum doesn’t mean he couldn’t still have some fun with you. he spent hours edging and teasing you, tying you up and forcing you to endure his punishments, so those three weeks were torture for you. obviously ended with you begging him to let you cum, pleading for his cock and telling him to forget the challenge. you babbled apologies for making him participate and promised to never do it again. seeing your teary eyes and hearing your pleas got him more worked up than he’d like to admit, so he fucked you stupid and filled you up.

"aw, you can’t take it? you wanna cum?"

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doc-pickles · 7 months

Text

sick day | mat barzal

summary: Mat comes home from a roadie and takes care of his family

warnings: throwing up, so much fluff

a/n: y’all asked for dad Mat! enjoy this fluffy piece!

xoxo

nina

Mat was just coming off a four day roadie when you called. The plane had just touched down in New York and he’d turned his phone on only to find you calling.

“Hey baby, we just landed.”

“Mat don’t come home.”

Your words made Mat freeze, Tito looking at him in concern as his face dropped.

“W-what? Baby whatever it is we can-“

“No, no, no,” you rushed out as you realized what Mat thought. “No, god not like that. I’m sorry. We all have the stomach flu and I don’t want you getting sick. All three of us having been throwing up since yesterday morning.”

Mat let out a breath of relief as he leaned back into his seat, “I’m still coming home baby. If you’re all sick I want to take care of you.”

“But you have playoffs right around the corner and I-“

“I’ll see you soon,” Mat’s answer has you heaving a sigh, knowing that arguing with him would be useless. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Half an hour later Mat walked through the front door just as your five year old son Luca puked into the bowl on his lap. You groaned as Rosie, your two year old, burrowed further into your chest with a pained moan. You met Mat’s eyes over their heads and sighed, “Welcome to the fun house.”

Mat dropped his bags by the door and toed his shoes off before going to help Luca. Once he was done throwing up Mat gathered him in his arms and took him upstairs for a bath. You and Rosie both dozed off, your shirt tightly clutched in her hands as she lightly snored.

When you woke up again Rosie was gone and Mat was just coming down the stairs. He smiled at you before he walked over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Both kids are bathed and sleeping. How are you feeling mama?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you groaned as Mat pulled you into his lap. “Stop, I’m all sweaty and gross and I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I just wanna hold my wife,” Mat groaned as he pulled you closer. “I haven’t seen you in four days.”

You gave up your struggling and settled into Mat’s hold, “And I spent a lot of that time puking my guts out.”

“Why don’t you go take a bath and I’ll watch out for the kids,” you eyed Mat skeptically but he simply met you with an eye roll. “I can handle them babe. Go take care of yourself.”

You begrudgingly walked upstairs, but you couldn’t fight Mat’s thinking as the warm water of the bath soothed your aching muscles. You stayed in far longer than you should have but after getting out you felt a hundred times better.

When you finally trekked back downstairs Rosie was settled on Mat’s hip as he cleared the dishes in the sink. Luca was bundled up on the couch, so you went over to him and pulled him into your lap.

“How are your feeling bubba,” you pressed a kiss to his dark hair as he snuggled close to you. His forehead didn’t feel as warm as earlier so you took that as a win.

“‘m feeling better,” Luca mumbled as he held on tightly to you. “Daddy made toast and I didn’t frow it up.”

You looked up and Mat met your eye over both of your kids heads. He smirked and you swore your heart beat a little faster. You truly couldn’t imagine doing life with anyone but Mat.

The rest of the day went by easily. You all curled up on the couch to watch a movie, Rosie clinging to Mat and refusing to move. Not that Mat was complaining, his daughter tucked in his side as he ran his fingers through her dark curls.

When Luca mentioned that he was hungry Mat was up in an instant to make soup for everyone. Rosie still clung to his chest as he moved around the kitchen and told her everything he was doing. By the time everything was finished Rosie was asleep, arms still tightly wrapped around Mat’s neck.

“I’m gonna go put her down and then I’ll get you both some soup,” Mat leaned down to kiss Luca’s forehead then yours before he headed upstairs with Rosie.

The soup was the perfect thing for your still uneasy stomach. Luca even had a second bowl which made Mat beam with pride. The recipe was from his mom, something he had asked her for the first time Luca had come down with a bad cold. It was a tradition at this point to make it on sick days and you couldn’t complain.

When Luca began to drift off at the table Mat took him upstairs and put him to bed. You began tidying up the kitchen, carefully washing out dishes when Mat came back, “Let me finish cleaning babe.”

“But I-“

“You’re still sick. Go lay down, I’ll be up in a minute,” Mat pressed a kiss to your temple before pushing you towards the stairs with a playful swat to your butt.

You took time to do your nighttime routine, feeling better than you had in days. By the time Mat came upstairs you were tucked under the covers and half asleep.

“C’mere baby,” Mat whispered as he slid into bed, arms stretched out toward you. “I missed sleeping next to you.”

You gladly scooted across the bed and settled onto Mat’s chest, his hands slipping under your shirt to rub your back, “Thank you for taking care of us today.”

“That’s my job,” Mat mumbled into your hair. “I promised you in sickness and in health. Just trying to stay true to my vows.”

As you both drifted off to sleep you couldn’t help but think about how grateful you were to have Mat by your side.

#mat barzal #Mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #Mat barzal fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nina writes

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nicoline1998enilocin · 6 months

Text

Mirror mirror on the wall...

PAIRING | FWB!Loki Laufeyson x FWB!Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.4K

SUMMARY | You don't see Loki that often, but when you do, it is always filled with nothing but lust. When he finds out about the latest addition of a life-size mirror in your room at the Compound, he can't help but have some fun with it and make you fall apart around him simultaneously.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Friends with benefits, use of pet name (Gorgeous), smut (mirror sex, masturbation - F receiving, fingering, protected sex, squirting, implied aftercare).

A/N | I want to dedicate this fic to @avengersfantasies, who's a big fan of the God of Mischief, just like myself. (Surprise! 🫣) I hope you will enjoy the route I took with this because it was a lot of fun to write 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | GIF credit to @marveladdicts

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | Part 2

You started a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Loki a few years ago but didn't see each other often. Between you being gone for extended missions and him constantly being needed on Asgard, there hasn't been much time spent in his arms, fucking each other until you can't think straight.

Today, however, you're lucky to have Loki all for yourself for a couple of hours, and both of you plan to make the most of it, especially when Loki notices the new life-sized mirror in your room.

''Hm, I see you got a new addition to your room; maybe we should put it to good use,'' Loki whispers in your ear as he stands in front of you, letting the silk robe on your shoulders slide down, revealing the emerald green lingerie you wore just for him.

The warmth of his breath ghosting over your ear makes you feel goosebumps, and you let out a small sigh as you feel his hands follow the fabric down your arms.

The silky fabric reaches the floor with a soft thud, and Loki can't help but smile as he sees you wearing his signature color; it compliments your skin beautifully.

''Did you do this just for me, Gorgeous?'' Loki asks between kisses trailing from your neck and shoulders down to your breasts before pushing you back onto the bed until you're seated at the edge.

When you're seated, he takes a step back and waves his hand once, and suddenly, the beautiful lingerie adorning your body has vanished, leaving you bare in front of him.

''I doubt I'll ever get enough of seeing you laid out like this in front of me,'' he whispers before removing his clothing as well, unable to wait any longer.

When you see his thick, long, throbbing cock, your mouth instantly waters, and your cunt starts dripping at the sight. There's never been a moment you've needed him more than you do right now.

''Spread those thighs for me and play with that perfect cunt of yours, Gorgeous; let's take a good look at how well you're spreading those folds for me,'' he says, and his fingers under your chin guide your sight to the mirror in front of you.

You do as he says as your fingers slide through the wetness and gather some of it before you find your clit and start rubbing slowly. Your head falls back against his shoulder from the pleasure, your back arching at the sensations.

''Loki, please, I want your fingers inside of me,'' you beg, your eyes trained on him through the mirror.

''How can I say no to you when you beg so sweetly?'' he says, followed by a deep groan coming from his chest, and his arm snakes around your waist to replace your fingers with his.

''Don't take your eyes off the mirror,'' he orders, and your eyes snap up to meet his again after you were looking at where his fingers made contact with your dripping flesh.

His long, thin fingers slide into your entrance without hesitation, and he sets a slow but steady pace, making it difficult to keep eye contact as you melt into his touch.

The moans leaving your mouth are wanton, and you can barely keep your eyes open, let alone fixed on the sight in front of you.

''L-Loki! 'm cumming!'' you suddenly scream as he lets some warmth spread through his fingers with his magic, and it's like every sense got dialed to 10, and you couldn't hold back any longer.

Because he used his magic, it's like a little switch inside you flipped, and you felt a hot rush of liquid squirting out and over the bed, which made Loki grunt from deep within.

''Look at that! Cumming like the perfect slut for me, Gorgeous, I can't wait to fill you up with my cock and pump you full of every last drop of my seed,'' he whispers in your ear, licking along the shell of your ear before pulling his fingers out, and letting you come down from your high.

''Fuck, missed you so much,'' you pant before shifting a little, and your line of sight immediately drops down to your leaking pussy before Loki feeds you his fingers, allowing you to lick them clean with a moan.

When he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he turns your head so you're facing him, and halfway, his lips meet yours in a tender, loving kiss that has you melting into his touch.

Your right hand finds its place in his long, black hair, and you tug softly, a soft moan leaving his lips as he spreads them to allow your tongue to mingle with his.

As much as you enjoy having sex with Loki, these intimate moments make it special for both of you. There has always been a deeper connection between you two, and even though it may not be romantic, you both know it goes deeper than friendship.

You can't think about this moment for too long, however, because before you can even say something, you're on your hands and knees before him, your chest pressed against the mattress, but your head turned so that you have to look at what he's doing.

He has already wrapped himself up, and before you can even think about what's happening, you feel Loki's hand press against your neck, the blunt head of his cock pushing into you while you moan.

''Fuck, feels so fucking good around me, Gorgeous,'' Loki says, and within no time, he's sliding into the hilt, hitting your sweet spot as he does so, and a whine escapes your lips.

After he lets you adjust to him, he starts setting a relatively rough pace that has you seeing stars and moaning and whining uncontrollably.

''Look at that, Gorgeous; look at how well you're doing for me right now!'' he commands, and your eyes move to the sight in front of you, and the mischievous smile on Loki's face is unmistakable.

Loki's hand shifts from the back of your neck to your throat, and he pulls you to him, his chest firm against your back while his pace doesn't slow down even remotely.

''See, Gorgeous? Look at how well we're made for each other! Taking my cock so well like my perfect little cockslut,'' he groans as he picks up his pace, chasing his high.

''C'mon, touch that perfect little clit of yours, and I'll cum with you; that's what you want, right? Want me to cum in this tight pussy of yours? Want to be filled with me cum until it drips out of you?'' he asks, but you're too far gone to be able to answer him.

Your brows are furrowed, and your jaw is entirely slack, moans and whimpers coming out of you uncontrollably as you find the strength to chase your high.

''C-cumming!'' you pant out, and Loki sets a brutal pace while looking at you in the mirror, keeping eye contact until you clench around him, and he can't hold back either.

With a roar of your name, he shoots all of his seed into the condom, and he lets you fall forward to catch your breath while he falls backward, slipping out of you simultaneously, and you whine at a loss.

Loki quickly discards the condom before switching positions and pulling you close, rubbing his hands softly over your back as he sings softly to you.

You're listening to what he's singing, which always calms you down, lulling you to sleep. He pulls the comforter over both of your bodies, and you snuggle into his arms and against his chest.

After 2-3 hours, you wake up with your back snuggly against his chest, Loki's arms wrapped around you protectively.

''Hi Gorgeous, did you have a good nap?'' he asks, and after a stretch, you nod with a big smile.

''Thank you for coming by,'' you say before kissing his nose and getting up. As much as you'd like to stay longer, you have some meetings to attend, and Loki has some business in Asgard to take care of again.

''Can't wait until next time, Gorgeous,'' he says, and with one last look back and a wave, you're off to your meeting, already thinking about the next time you'll see him again.

''Next time, I'll make you feel good in front of that mirror,'' you whisper to yourself. When you return to your room after your meetings, you see a bouquet of white roses on your bed, another tradition he started long ago.

''Next time, I'm taking you to my palace,'' the note says in his signature green handwriting, and you're looking forward to it already.

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