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eyelessfaces · 6 months

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

llewyn davis x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: lingerie

warnings: none :)

word count: 0.6k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

You crossed your arms as you leaned your side against the wall, watching and listening to Llewyn babbling and complaining about his shitty, never ending day as he plopped down onto your couch.

"I was waiting for you" you declared cutting him off, joining him in front of the couch as he fumbled with his pants pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and tucking one between his lips.

"I know, sorry angel." he apologized looking up at you, lighting the stick, taking a drag. "I got in an argument with Mel and then I had to stop by the Gorfeins to give back a book Lillian lent me but things dragged out, you know how she can never stop talking when she starts"

You chuckled and sent him an empathetic look, your hand brushing the side of his cheek.

"I think I got exactly what you need to cheer you up" you declared with a playful tone, and he looked at you curiously as he pulled the cigarette back to his mouth, mindlessly taking another drag as you fiddled with the knot of your robe.

"Really? Awesome because that's not all that was shitty today" he scoffed, smoke coming out from his mouth as he ran a hand over his face. "I almost tripped on a dog's leash, and the owner was so fucking rude about it. Old lady, scolding me when it was her dog that almost killed me. On top of that I had to hurry to get to the studio only to learn once I got there that the session got canceled, which means I'm not getting royalties, and I never needed them more than right now–"

His mouth slightly gaped when he realized he was met with the sight of you standing in front of him, only dressed with white lace lingerie, your robe falling down on the floor.

How he didn’t even register you opening your robe he didn’t know, but he now felt dumb for running his mouth and daring to complain when you were in front of him looking like that.

"Oh"

He eyed you up and down, not tearing his gaze from you when he leaned to the side table next to the couch to put his cigarette in the ashtray.

"Fuck” he chuckled, speechless. “You look…” he started, mouth opening and closing as he searched for words. "Fuck"

You chuckled at his loss of words, heat creeping up your cheeks.

"Can I?" he asked, pointing at you. You nodded and he placed his hands at the back of your thighs, looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He couldn’t even talk, too hypnotized by the way you looked.

His fingers felt cold against your bare skin, raising goosebumps in their trail as his hands roamed along your body, settling at your hips as he toyed with the fabric of your underwear.

He exhaled and pressed his forehead against your stomach, his curls tickling your skin.

"Does this make up for your shitty day?" you asked, your hand resting in his curls.

"Shit, more than that." he muttered under his breath as he left a kiss over your stomach, his hands shifting to rest over your ass. He looked back up at you, a loving glint in his eyes. "You look beautiful honey, but you're gonna get cold"

"Mh?" you hummed, taking a step back from him. "Better help me warm up then." you teased, a sly smirk over your face as you walked towards the bedroom, watching as he bit down onto his bottom lip before getting up and chasing after you.

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @spxctorsslxt

+ @flightlessangelwings

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andr0medafallen · 1 year

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The Gaslight

A/N: Reposting old fics. Lightly revised.

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x Reader

Warnings: Existential dread, depictions of smoking, brief mention of cancer in relation to smoking, kind of fluffy ig?, lmk if i need to add anything

Description: New York isn't anywhere near as great as it's portrayed by Frank Sinatra or any of the greats of your time. Maybe the only person with a chance at changing your mind about that is someone who feels the exact same way.

Word Count: 2.1k

Everyone who says that there is “so much to do in New York” is wrong. There’s plenty of random bullshit to do the first couple hundred days living there, and then by the time you’re so over it that you’d rather be doing anything else, you’re stuck because you sold your car for rent and you don’t have enough energy or ambition to send out resumes to employers outside of the city and wait one million years for a letter of rejection. You suppose that that may be the reason the telephone had been invented, but every time you even touch the damned machine, you're overwhelmed with a debilitating flood of anxiety that only goes away after you’ve promised yourself you’ll never touch it again. Honestly, it would probably be best to stop spending the crippling $25 a month for the rotary, but you’d have to call the phone company, and that falls under the list of things you would not like to do.

What may come as a surprise to the vast amounts of small-towners moving to the big city is that the over-romantacized gum spattered streets, unaffordable rent, and constant rat infestations all get old really fast. But how can you honestly judge? You were one of those small-town girls with big dreams, once.

Maybe what you really hate about New York is its tendency to point out the worst in you. Somehow being constantly surrounded by 7.78 million people only manages to make you feel more lonely. As if the city is pointing out that even when it is impossible to avoid people, as you often yearn to do, you are still incapable of making a single genuine friend.

As if it’s any sort of consolation, once you realize that there is nothing to do in New York, you start finding like-minded individuals. It was those very like-minded individuals who led you to The Gaslight today. Course, you weren’t here with anyone. You just got handed a flier at Donna’s apartment. So here you were, at The Gaslight Cafe. Sticky tables, dirty floors, some sort of New Yorker reputation that you were blissfully unaware of.

When you entered the bar, the singer hadn’t yet made his appearance.You were five minutes late, but it was the city, so of course that made you ten minutes early. Honestly though, the room was actually kind of nice. It all seemed so comfortable and modern with its stone walls and chic lamps and real wood tables. The room was low-lit with a couple of warm-toned spotlights pointing towards the stage, where an empty oak-wood chair and a metal mic sat. No matter how hard it tried, though, it still didn’t beat the classic dilemma of any bar: Beer-sticky surfaces and the smell of tobacco, hanging in the air like a sacred canopy.

When you were younger you had been a regular at plenty of different venues in your hometown. Some were all ages and family-friendly, some were teenage rock’n’roller’s garages, and plenty were bars like this one where the owners innocently turned a blind eye to your baby face. Those bars usually had vinyl tables, though. What your teenage hangouts all had in common, though, was that you had known people there. The owners, maybe a drummer or two. Plenty of boy-crazy lasses and lads. Maybe you were jaded, but you’ve been finding it harder and harder to remember what it’s like to know and be known. Some days, maybe even today, you thought of what it would be like to build that sort of community for yourself, and the task felt near impossible.

On the bright side, your concert-going experience meant that you knew the best places to sit when you went to this sort of thing; Close enough to the singer so that you could see them, but not so close that it would seem like you cared.

You’d almost finished your first drink when the singer came out. His curly hair was messily piled atop his head and he wore clothes that were very obviously picked out from a thrift store or a clearance rack. Of course, you were the last to judge, because you certainly did the same. It had been a long time since you had been able to afford anything on the main floor of a Macy’s. But honestly, the rugged look suited him. His olive skin looked pale, as if he never went outside except for on his commute to these nighttime gigs, like a modern-day vampire, and his eyes looked tired, like they held the murky depths of the Hudson in them. You wondered how he would be spending his Sunday night if he weren’t here.

All of this was just idle thought though, the bored wonderings of someone who was just about ready for a second drink. It’s not like you cared. That is, until he started playing. You remembered the shows from when you were young, played by fellow adolescents jamming out to Elvis Presley and Howlin’ Wolf. You thought they were so fun, yet still usually left early to go fuck around somewhere else. This was nothing like that. When the singer's deft fingers gracefully twirled between strings, when his voice sang a song of anguish passed down generation to generation, you had never felt so seen. You thought maybe this was it. Some sort of sign that it was alright now and you no longer had to spend every day worrying about bills and how to put your next meal on the table. You didn’t even go to the bar for another drink, you were too enraptured.

When your thoughts did wander, it was all about that man sitting on that chair on the low-hanging stage strumming a guitar. You wanted to know his whole life story. How he ended up here, how he couldn’t leave. Maybe he was a traveling musician, but maybe he was like you. Like Sisyphus, being pushed back into the confines of the city any time he tried to escape its grasp.

When his last song ended you felt like crying. Maybe you already had been crying. Sometimes it was hard for you to pay attention to that sort of thing. Sometimes you get so enraptured by the music that you can’t even manage to wipe your tear streaks until the end of the song, when you frantically will them away with the sleeve of your sweater and the will of a god. This was one of those times.

There really was no real reason to stay once he’d finished his set. You were fairly far from drunk, but hopefully intoxicated enough that you wouldn’t have a lot of trouble getting to sleep. With one last glance at the singer, you slipped out the side door into the freezing New York winter. You were far from cold, though, because when you looked back through the door, your eyes met his brown bark gaze, heating your cheeks with a rosy warmth. You quickly tore your eyes away and shut the alleyway door before fumbling with your cigarette case. Your quickly numbing fingers took their time flicking the lighter going, but once you managed it, you took a deep inhale, hands cupped in front of the cigarette cradled by your lips. The smoke burned through you, warming you from the inside out.

You glanced at the door as it creaked open next to you, once again inhaling from your cigarette. You knew it was a bad habit and apparently some doctors now believed that it caused cancer or something, but you couldn’t remember the last time that you actually cared.

Once your own cloud of shit smelling cigarettes (you bought the cheap stuff, 25 cents a pack) dissipated, you realized that it wasn’t some trash man or drunk guy needing to puke, but your very own sad man in thrifted clothing holding a beat-up hard shell guitar case. Your heart fluttered, standing this close to him. It was your fatal flaw as a New Yorker, one that you refused to admit to anyone. You got starstruck so stupid easily. Usually not even by stars. Sure, you live in New York and there are plenty all over this shithole city,but it’s the smaller ones you adore. You couldn’t give a shit about Frank Sinatra, but one time you saw your favorite 6pm News anchor grocery shopping in Manhattan and got so excited that a paparazzo started taking pictures hoping that it was some B-List celebrity that he wasn’t familiar with.

And so, when you stood in front of this man, who was not famous, and who you hadn’t even known –of– for very long, but you felt like you might burst into flames in his presence.

He had this aura about him that preached of pain and empty hope and that somehow called to you like a beautiful sonnet.

He even had the audacity to look surprised to see you, as if you hadn’t made eye contact when you’d used this door just a few minutes prior. It was clear that he had come out the side exit rather than the front exit in some attempt to avoid having to talk to people, and you thought about letting him do just that, but maybe you still believed in fate just a bit, and maybe she was giving you a second shot just now. You weren’t one to ignore divine interference.

You silently offered him your cigarette, and he seemed to consider it for a moment before settling against the red brick wall beside you and accepting it. You don’t miss how his eyes seem to darken as they take in the red smudges which your lips had placed on the tipping paper just moments ago. He takes a hit from the half-smoked cigarette and there is something so casually intimate about the both of you sweetly caressing a lifeless piece of paper rolled with death and dopamine without a single direct touch between you.

When he made no move to speak, you took the initiative. “I liked your set,” you mumbled, taking the joint. You blew out the smoke in a steady stream. You knew plenty of folks who thought that blowing rings made them all sophisticated or whatnot, but anytime you did it you felt like a JRR Tolkien character–the old wizard guy. Gandalf? The singer (who still hadn’t told you his name) exhaled his smoke in puffs, like little storm-clouds.

“No, it's… it’s not.” His response made no sense in the context of what you had said, but somehow you understood its meaning anyway. That feeling of incompetence, where no amount of praise can make up for any past rejection.

“Well. I liked it,” you responded coolly, as if his opinion on his own music obviously meant less than yours. You turned towards him. The new angle revealed how close the two of you truly were, less than a foot away from each other, and it made your heart increase a few paces.

When you told him your name, it elicited the tiniest of smiles in response, and he held out his hand for you to shake. He didn’t seem to smile much, but he still had the most beautiful laugh lines around his eyes. You shook his outreached hand, its warmth dulling the stinging pain of the cold.

“Llewyn Davis,” He introduced, before pulling his hand back to his side. A part of you missed his warmth already.

“Llewyn.” You tested the word out on your lips, drawing it out slowly as if tasting it. “It’s a pretty name.”

Llewyn’s eyes crinkled in response, and you responded in kind with a toothy grin. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

“Well, thanks for the smoke. I should probably head home before anyone starts worrying,” he spoke, snubbing out the spent cigarette on the brick wall and readying up his guitar case.

As he turned away to leave, you raised an eyebrow at the man, not quite believing his story. “And where is home for you, Llewyn?”

He turned back towards you, surprised by your antics, and shrugged. “Anywhere with a nice enough couch, I suppose.”

You smirked at him, giddy at having caught him in his white lie. “Well I can’t say my couch cost more than twenty dollars, but my heater works. Deal?”

The way his eyes seemed to soften at your words made you unbelievably happy. He wasn’t quite smiling, but he seemed so much less stressed.

“That’s…that’s really nice of you,” Llewyn mumbled. You hesitantly reached forward and took his hand, fingers brushing his palm before closing around his calloused left hand, which had so expertly been holding down bar chords and hammer-ons moments before. He squeezed your hand in response, as if to tell you that this gentle act of intimacy was acceptable. When he saw you looking up at him expectantly, he realized that he hadn’t yet answered your question. “Yeah, deal.”

#llewyn davis x reader #reader insert #mine #llewyn davis fanfic #llewyn davis angst #llewyn davis fluff #inside llewyn davis #oscar isaac fanfic

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dailyreverie · 2 years

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Insomniac

Fall prompts 🍂 27. "I can't sleep"

(Requested by @apollo-enthusiast / @myfandomlikesandstories)

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x reader

Word count: 689 words

Warnings: Mentions of homelessnes/struggling with having a placce to sleep.

October made its arrival known by drastically dropping the temperature that night, and if it hadn’t been for the cold night that woke you up, the empty bed would have done the trick. Everything is confusing at 2:45 am, when all you want to do is cuddle the cold away and Llewyn is nowhere to be found; that is until you hear the guitar strums coming from the living room and you see the light peeking from under the door.

“Llewyn,” Your raspy voice catches you by surprise as you call him, spotting him on the couch playing a quiet melody. “What are you doing?”

Llewyn looks up at you with guilty eyes and a sigh when he sees how sleepy you are. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” He follows you with his eyes as you start walking toward him, trying to keep the smile that’s creeping on his lips to himself. “Honey, it’s late, go back to sleep.”

“I can’t now.” You sit facing him, a tiny smile on your face when you admit you can’t sleep without him. Your side is pressed to the back of the couch, watching him play mindlessly with the guitar strings.

You stay there, sitting beside him, looking at him incredulously because you know it’s late. “I’m sorry.” You smile sleepily to his apology, too tired to tell him there’s nothing to be sorry about. Nights get like this to him sometimes, restless and tiring, endless and cold, as if his body had taught him that every once in a while he still has to stay alert through the night. “It’s the cold. I couldn’t- it wouldn’t let me sleep.” Llewyn admits shyly, not daring to look up at you. But you understand, his insomnia is only a product of the difficult past he had a while back. No words can fix that, you know that by now, so you only reaching out to push a fallen curl back up his head where it belongs to remind him that he is there, with you, and not at a stranger's living room.

Silence fills your tiny apartment for a few seconds, just his guitar and the cracking of the candle stick that makes the room smell like fall, the one Llewyn lit up as a last attempt to feel warm.

“How did that song I like goes?” Interrupting his music you reach over and grab the instrument to place it on your lap now. With a precise and calculated movement of your fingers, you set them on that one chord he taught you, strumming slowly as you go through the following two chords in calculated and un-practiced moves. It doesn’t sound all that well, but Llewyn loves the song anyway - he loves your furrowed eyebrows as you move your finger to the string below and the one above trying to find the right one, and loves your soft voice whispering the lyrics.

The same way you reached for his curls he does it to your fingers, not able to hide the way he feels away from his smiling face. “Remember it’s D…” He reminds you, placing your fingers in the correct form, letting you strum a couple of times. “Then it’s G, you know that one already.” You strum again, making him smile fondly when he hears you whispering the lyrics to yourself to keep the rythm. “And then D again.”

You play it a couple of times in a row until your fingers learn the movement - until Llewyn forgets he ever was cold, even welcoming sleep to his body once more. You are smiling to yourself when you get it right and in fluent movements, and he can’t help himself but interrupt your song as you did to his, connecting your lips in a soft kiss that finishes warming up every corner of his body when he feels your smile.

“I think I can sleep now.” He confirms before one more kiss. Your hand finds his as you stand up, pulling him with you so you can drag him to the bedroom where the cold never finds its way in again.

*************************

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis imagine #llewyn davis fanfic #llewyn davis fluff

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 7 months

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Service Fee

Llewyn Davis X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 3: Exhibitionism

Summary: Jerry offers Llewyn money to watch him and you fuck.

A/N: Llewyn and reader are in a realtionship. So Llewyn kinda realises he's into someone watching him. (martymachlia). Also $500 in 1961 is about $5134.21 today. This was so much more difficult that I thought it would be.

Warnings: martymachlia, exhinitionism , p in v sex, cream pie, hand on throat, cum eating, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, being 'paid' for sex, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3035

This was a bad idea. This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, this was a fucking bad idea.

Llewyn hadn’t been drunk when the idea, business deal, had been proposed. But he had been a little tipsy, pleasantly buzzed. Enough to make him think, ‘fuck it, sure $500 for thirty minutes and an orgasm?’ He’d be an idiot not to, right?

Jerry, some friend of a friend of a work colleague of Marty’s, had bought him the drinks. Presumably to butter him up to what he was about to ask.

It seemed that Jerry got off to watching other people go at it. In the flesh. Like a horny theatre performance.

He had brought up the subject of porn during their conversation in such a subtle way that LLewyn hadn’t really noticed until they were well into the discussion.

“I mean, everyone enjoys a bit of x-rated content from time to time, wouldn’t you say?” Jerry spoke with a deep voice that was like a snake charmer, easing Llewyn into agreement without a second thought.

“I like watching, I need it right there in front of me. Like a sports game, always better seeing it live right?” He had laughed. “Used to just watch people get off on their own, but I tell you, there’s something about seeing a couple really go to town on each other.”

What really could you say to that? “Sure,” Llewyn answered, two too many shots down.

“I used to pay hookers you know, for a show? But it’s just not the same. No offence to the professionals, but I need at least one of them to not be... overly performing if you get my drift.”

Llewyn nodded.

“I still pay, of course, gotta pay people for their time.”

“Of course.” Llewyn took another shot.

“$500 a time, for a couple. $400 for two strangers. Couples are just better.” He shrugged.

Llewyn’s ears perked up.“$500?”

“Hmm.” Jerry smiled, sickeningly sweet and took a slip of his hardly touched beer. “Cash.”

Now, in the cold light of day, or more accurately, the cold dark of three hours later, with his pleasant buzz gone, Llewyn knew he had been gently coaxed into asking the question.

He had practically stumbled over his words in his rush to explain to you. “$500, for like thirty minutes. $500!”

You had stared at him uncertainly. “Llewyn-”

“No, no, I checked. It’s in this club, The Deep, private room, it has like a viewing mirror thing so he can see us, we can’t see him. Only us fucking, nothing we don’t normally do.”

You chewed your bottom lip, it wasn’t like the money would be unwelcome. “He knows Marty?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“This isn’t... illegal is it?”

“No, no, the club it’s like, people go there to do all kinds of stuff, we wouldn’t be getting paid to have sex... just Jerry would give us a gift... after. A thank you.”

“Does he... want anything particular?”

“Just for me to cum in you.” Llewyn shrugged, still a little too tipsy to not feel inebriated. “Like we normally do.” He nuzzled into your shoulder and you paused, looking over the slight flush on his skin.

“How much did you have to drink?”

Jerry had met you outside the club, paying your fees to get in. The bouncers greeted him by name.

“What the fuck are we doing here?” Llewyn whispered into your ear as you both entered.

You glared at him. “Llewyn, this was your fucking idea.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered as you followed Jerry. Llewyn kept his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders.

“You’re not getting stage fright, are you?” You teased, trying to downplay your own anxieties.

He gave you a look.

The room was surprisingly nice. Clean and well kept.

Llewyn sat gingerly on the bed.

“Well, I’ll let you two get started.” Jerry smiled, somehow the expression didn’t come off as creepy. “When the green light comes on,” he pointed to a small bulb above the massive wall mirror next to the bed. “Feel free to start.” He moved to the door.

“Wait, erm,” you paused. “Can you hear as well?”

Jerry’s smile widened and he nodded. “Of course.” He closed the door behind him.

Okay, that smile was a little creepy.

You bite your lip nervously as you look at the door.

“We don’t have to do this, you know?” Llewyn made you jump lightly as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his chest into your back.

You lean against him, “I know,” and sigh. “$500 though...”

He chuckles as he kisses your neck, his beard scraping softly at your skin. “$500.” He echoes.

You nod and turn to face him, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “$500.” You repeat again. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Never have more romantic words been said.” He teases and you swat at him playfully.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know... gotta woo me first.”

“I have to woo you?”

“Hmm.” He smiles broadly, running his hands down to your waist and swaying ever so slightly with you. His half hard cock brushes against your thigh.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I think you might be into this Llewyn Davis.”

“What?” He chuckles.

“Being watched,” you tease, your voice low. “I think part of you likes it.”

“And why is that?” He leans closer kissing along your jaw.

“Why do you think?”

“I always get like this around you.” He murmurs.

“Hmm.” You don’t sound very convinced.

“It’s true,” he continues kissing down your neck only to stop and suck on your pulse point. “You could say ‘get hard’ and I would.”

Your giggle turns into a moan as he bites lightly at your skin and walks you backwards to the bed. Gently pressing you down when the mattress hits the back of your thighs and moving his hips between your legs.

He kisses you languidly, almost soothingly sweet in the way he caresses your lips with his. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, shying away ever so slightly every time you try to as he grinds his rapidly hardening length against your centre.

“Llewyn,” you groan in frustration as his lips dance away from you again, grabbing hold of the back of his curls and forcing his mouth against yours.

He chuckles darkly but licks into your mouth. Finally indulging you.

His hands run down your ribs, stopping at your waist to just inch under your shirt. There’s a hunger in his movements, the force that he grinds against you, how his teeth lightly nip and bite at your bottom lip that’s different. Not unwelcome, just unusual. Slightly out of character for Llewyn’s normal style.

He kisses down to your jaw, his beard tickling your skin as he sucks a love bite into your neck and starts to hurriedly unbutton your shirt. His breathing quick and urgent.

The way he grinds against you, the outline of his hard cock rubbing against your core, sends sparks of pleasure up your spine.

He fumbles with the last two buttons on your top as he scrapes his teeth over your jaw and in annoyance he simply pulls the material, ripping the offending things off and sending them flying across the room.

“Llewyn,” you begin to chastise, but his lips are on yours again as he whines into your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry, just need you so bad.” He hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wider as he kisses the tops of your breasts.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice the green light has come on.

Yeah, okay. He was really into this.

“Need you so fucking bad, baby.” He mutters under his breath and you’re not sure if he even realises he’s talking anymore.

You squirm against him as he pinches your left nipple through the fabric of your bra and bites at the other, sucking and licking at it like he’s never seen them before. His salvia sinks into the lace, spreads across the material as he moans and ruts against you.

There’s a tight heat building in your belly, fire that is being stoked higher and higher with every grind of Llewyn’s hips and drag of his cock. The zip on his fly presses firmly against your clit and you gasp, sinking your fingers into soft curls as you press up against him.

He growls, momentarily rocking against you harder before he pulls you into sitting up by your arms.

You open your mouth to speak, but he’s all over you again, kissing your lips and neck and pulling you out of your top and unclasping your bra.

“Llewyn-”

“You’re wearing too many fucking clothes.” He snarls and bites hard at your neck, groaning when you cry out and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

As he sucks another messy love bite into your skin and his nimble fingers undo your trousers, pulling his mouth away from you for just a second so that he can pull them down.

You lean back, helping him to undress you as best you can. There’s an unfamiliar spark of excitement in your chest. Seeing him like this, so close to losing his usual calm control makes heat rise to your face and wetness soak into your panties.

He didn’t think he’d be quite so into this. Llewyn kisses you hard, sliding his tongue into your mouth for a moment before he pulls your underwear down and throws it to the side. In fact, just a few minutes ago he was pretty sure he was going to have a problem performing. But now, god, if he didn’t hear you moan his name in the next minute he was going to burst a blood vessel.

There was something about it, something about knowing that Jerry could see you but couldn’t touch you. That you were all his, his his. Just brought him close to insanity.

He grabs you around the back of your neck a little harshly as he kneels between your open legs and pulls you back towards him. He kisses you deeply again, hungrily swallowing down your every breath as if it was his only source of oxygen.

Without giving you any warning he plunges two fingers into your folds and presses against your walls.

You gasp, breaking the kiss and Llewyn pumps his hand quickly, using his thumb to circle your clit as you cry out and grasp at his shoulders. Pleasure burning along your veins.

His name falls from your lips in a high-pitched rush of breath and he moans, sinking his teeth into your shoulder and using his other hand to press against your upper back to keep you as close as physically possible.

“Llewyn, shit,” you moan, your words catching in your throat as he adds a third finger and fucks you hard. Pumping in and out of you, the sound of your slick echoing obscenely as he groans.

All you can do is cling on for dear life as he plunges deeper, stroking your walls and clit in a perfect unison.

“Want you to cum so hard you gush all over the sheets baby,” he growls in your ear. “Want you to fucking soak my hand with it.”

You clenched down on him at his words, your eyes screwed shut as you gasped. He was never normally this vocal, never spoke to you like this and, god, if it didn’t make your head spin.

“Fuck, need to taste you.” He pushes you down flat on your back forcefully and dives between your legs, flicking his tongue over your clit and moaning against you.

You cry out, grabbing hold of the bedsheets and then whining as he pulls his fingers out, shoving them into his mouth. You look up quick enough to just see his eyes rolling back into his head, how he rocks his hips against the mattress.

Then his mouth is back on you, his hands pressing against the inner of both your thighs to stretch you impossibly wide as he curls his tongue between your folds.

You cry out his name in gasped pleasure. The burn of his beard scraps against your clit as he rolls his tongue and chin up through your folds to your bundle of nerves and then back down again, repeating the action twice before he firmly dives in and presses the bridge of his nose against you.

Heat coils tightly in your lower belly, beating out from your centre as he groans loudly with every lick and thrust of his tongue. His salvia and your slick mixing and coating his skin.

It’s too much, the onslaught of sensation suddenly overwhelming as he pushes your right to the edge in a rush.

“Gonna cum,” you manage to sob out, pulling at his curls to warn him, but he just growls against you and fucks you harder with his tongue.

Lights explode behind your eyes as your orgasm overtakes you, spills out of you in a wave as pleasure sings across every part of you.

LLewyn flicks his tongue against your clit, pressing hot and wet against it to stretch out your bliss for longer as you sob and writhe under him.

Your slick soaks into him, creamy and sweet as you cum.

He laps at you thrice before sitting up hurriedly, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans just enough to pull out his aching cock. He pumps himself twice in a rush, his eyes glazed over and dark as he looks at you naked and blissed out under him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grabs hold of your thigh harshly and pulls you wider. “You made such a mess, fuck.” He pushes forward, notching the tip of his fat needy cock at your entrance and thrusting in without a second thought.

You gasp in surprise at the sudden intrusion, despite your orgasm and how thoroughly he fucked you with his fingers the stretch of him is still a shock.

You grab hold of his arms as he bottoms out, snapped out of your post-orgasmic haze. He kisses you roughly, pushing his tongue into your open mouth and demanding your submission as he bends his body over yours. He snaps his hips forward, drinking down your cry as he bottoms out. The burn of him is delicious, hitting so deep, deeper than he ever has before and your back arches up from the bed as you cling onto him.

You swear between kisses, sob out his name as he starts to thrust harshly into you, pulling pleasure from every nerve with each snap of his hips.

“That’s it, baby, fuck, that’s it.” He leans up, rutting so hard that he’s sliding you back with every buck.

“Llewyn, oh my god, please!” You can’t get any other words out, all thoughts dissolving into an incoherent mess as he keeps hitting so deep, as he fucks you into the mattress.

He bites his lip, his hips moving of their own accord as he chases his high, needing to cum so deeply within you that you��ll be feeling it for weeks. Quickly he sits further up, pressing firmly on your clit with his thumb as he pushes you closer to your second orgasm, demanding you cum and milk his cock for everything he’s going to give you.

His other hand snakes down to your chin, holding your jaw and neck possessively for a moment before he pushes his thumb against your lips.

Your eyes widen in surprise at first as his palm presses against your windpipe, not enough to cut off your air, just a dominating hold. But you moan as you open your mouth and flick your tongue against the pad of this thumb.

Llewyn growls and pushes it in deeper, groaning as you suck on it. Revelling in the way your eyebrows pinch together, how your eyes soften and gaze over as you give into him completely.

The control makes his head spin and dick swell. He swears under his breath and pinches lightly at your clit as his balls draw up. You squirm and cry out around his thumb, your legs shaking and tensing on either side of his. The thick denim of his jeans rubbing your inner thighs red.

You cum suddenly, the force of it creeping up on you as it blooms throughout your core, practically forces your back off the bed as you scream silently.

LLewyn pulls his thumb from your mouth and ruts into you harder, punching the air out of your lungs with the force of his hips as he groans and pumps thick, hot cum inside of you. His orgasm is so strong that he nearly blacks out for a second.

He catches himself, his hand by your head as he breathes and recovers. It’s only then he notices the tears in your eyes. And a sharp pang of guilt cuts through his chest.

“Baby-”

You grab hold of him and pull him down against you, kissing him hard and moaning softly as aftershocks of your orgasm flow across your veins.

“Fuck,” you nuzzle against him, whispering against his ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard.”

He leans up to look at you, a small smile on his lips. “You okay?” He keeps his voice low and you nod.

“More than okay.”

The smile grows.

“Can’t believe you kept your clothes on,” you grin, “you’re all sweaty.”

LLewyn snorts and kisses you softly. “I didn’t have time.”

He helps you get dressed, your legs feeling boneless in the aftermath of your orgasm. He uses your brief weakness to his advantage and pins you back against the bed, cleaning the mess he made between your legs with his tongue until you’re a shaking begging heap. Your third orgasm is weaker than the previous two, but sweet nonetheless.

Jerry meets you both outside the room, a flush to his face. He gives you an envelope containing the $500, plus a $50 tip for ‘such a good show’, as well as his card, ‘if ever you’d both be interested in a repeat performance.’

LLewyn’s face betrays nothing, but he squeezes your hip eagerly at the suggestion.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! I'm not doing my normal tag list for kinktober as to not overwhelm anyone, please let me know if you'd like to be added/taken off.

@flightlessangelwings @steven-grants-world @lonelyisamyw-0love @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moon

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#llewyn davis #inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #x reader #llewyn davis x you #x you #llewyn davis x female reader #x female reader #llewyn davis x f!reader #x f!reader #llewyn davis x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #fawktober2023 #kinktober2023 #kinktober

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myfandomlikesandstories · 7 months

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Successful! Llewyn Davis AU headcanons

Llewyn Davis x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst

Summary: what if Llewyn became a famous musician?

Warnings: mention of murder

Word count: 1088

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It was just another slightly drunken, shitty night at the gaslight for Llewyn. Nearly empty bucket, scattered clapping that died out after a second. Except it wasn't. He didn't know it was the night that would change his life.

You were sitting in the audience. You weren't a regular at the gaslight, not at all, but tonight you were just craving a strong drink and company. The other bars in the neighborhood were too loud and bright for you that night, so you settled on the dim, depressing, "folk song playing" place.

You clapped politely for everyone, not listening, as you nursed your bitter drink and bitter mood. Until something caught your attention. A handsome (albeit a bit shabby) man with the voice of an angel, who you likened in your mind to a wet cat.

You didn't listen to the words he said. Not that you didn't try, but his voice awoke something within you. As a songwriter on a slump, you jumped the chance and started scribbling on a napkin from the table. Just whatever came to mind. Nothing would come of it anyway, but it's good for your writer's block.

When he left the stage, you downed the rest of your drink and hurried towards him. You slowed before he saw you, trying to maintain your cool.

"Davis, right?" You asked.

"Yeah," he answered and you extended your arm to him while introducing yourself. He shook it tentatively.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Llewyn thought about it. He automated to say no, but reconsidered. He had nothing better to do, could definitely use that drink, and you looked pretty damn good. So he accepted.

After some conversation (he didn't remember anyone being that nice to him for a long time), you asked him what were his plans for the night. He told you that he was staying with a couple of friends, those Jim and Jean couple, and they happened to pass by.

Jim was nudged by Jean towards Llewyn and awkwardly told him that actually, he couldn't stay on their couch tonight. Jean made some plans. You could see Llewyn's face fall, and when Jim left he just stared downwards quietly, in embarrassment.

"Correction: I'm not staying with them tonight." He mumbled.

You took a deep breath. "You could stay with me, if you'd like. My boyfriend-" you cleared your throat, "Ex boyfriend, just moved out and took all his shit from the study with him. So I got an empty guest room." (Why were you doing this? He's a stranger for fuck's sake!)

He looked at you, surprised. A quick mental calculation showed he had no one else to turn to that night. What's the worst that could happen? You'd kill him? He'd been thinking of joining Mike anyway. So he accepted.

Suffice to say, you didn't murder him. A while has passed, and Llewyn has become your roommate, practically. Yeah, he couldn't help much with the rent, but he did make that up by cleaning a lot, which sometimes is even better.

(Also, it was the 60s, rent wasn't that fucking high. It was about less than half of what it is today.) ANYWAY

One day, while dusting around, Llewyn found a notebook of yours. He didn't mean to peek, it just fell open or something. It was your poetry and songwriting notebook. By the time you came back home he had composed 3 of the songs there and was flooding you with questions about the chorus of a fourth.

You never thought to show it to him, you were just writing to your drawer! They weren't even good, or complete! You wanted to snatch it away from his hands and tell him to forget about it, but you've never seen him so happy. So alive.

He begged you to let him take your songs to his agent. How could you say no to him? Especially to those puppy eyes.

His agent was glad to hear Llewyn has partnered up again. He heard him out, and set him up with some producer. Finally, Llewyn Davis seemed like a good enough investment. And that's how it started.

From then on, Llewyn's career blossomed. He recorded an album (didn't sell away the rights this time) and the money started flowing. He preformed in front of larger and larger audiences, and you were always at his side.

He often felt like he didn't deserve any of that. He was told, so many times, that he was absolute crap and he started to believe it. But you were there to remind him. He deserved the world. Little did you know the only thing he truly wanted to deserve was you.

You inspired each other, creating more music and flowing with good energy. It took him a while, but when he finally found the courage, finally deemed himself worthy, he took a risk.

He asked you out.

When you started laughing at him, Llewyn's heart dropped. He's fucked his life over, again, in the worst way possible. You're going to leave and everything will go down the drain.

"Of course!!!" You said. "I'd love to go out with you, I thought you'd never ask! But oh my god your face..." you giggled. He sighed in relief, clutching his chest. You came closed and hugged him. He held you very tightly, smiling at your laughter.

That night you shared your first (and long awaited) kiss. A few months later you put out an album very different than both your writing so far. It was passionate, sensual, romantic and warm. One of the songs from it became the hit of the decade, and was played at countless weddings. You thought it was a beautiful way to immortalise your love.

And your love was immortalised alright! With two rings, nonetheless. Your wedding was covered by every newspaper in the country. Llewyn didn't like the attention all that much, though.

His solution? Another, more quiet and private wedding. This one ended up being your real anniversary.

Ever since Llewyn started earning a reasonable income, he insisted on paying for everything. Doesn't matter that you both earned a significant amount from the music, and that you joined bank accounts. He wanted to thank you for all that time you took care of him. So no, lunch is on him. Finally being able to provide for you made him really happy and proud (not that you needed any help).

You were one of the only "celebrity couples" who were genuinely happy together. You truly, deeply, loved each other, and when things would become too much you would take a vacation. Just the two of you. As it always was.

Llewyn made it in life, that was all agreed upon. Yeah, he became a famous musician, but the only thing he cared about - was you.

--------------------

No pressure tags:

@eyelessfaces @alwritey-aphrodite @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @romanarose @spider-starry

I hope you like it, everybody❤️

#inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis x male reader #llewyn davis fluff #llewyn davis fanfiction #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis angst #fanfic #my post #llewyn davis AU #inside llewyn Davis fanfic #inside llewyn davis fanfiction

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romanarose · 2 years

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COMMISSIONS OPEN

Join my taglist!

TUMBLR FUCKED UP MY LINKS!!!! Everything is getting reconstructed and its a pain. If something interests you that the link doesnt work, try looking for it on my blog, but if you cant find it, send me and ask and ill try to link you! Anything in bold should be linked right, but if its not, let me know!!

Rules and boundaries

Moon Knight

Triple Frontier

The Last of Us

Star Wars

Javier Peña

If You Wanna Be Wild ft. Santiago Garcia: Javi and his new partner, a young Santiago Garcia straight out the military, begin to take down Lorea with the help of Candy, a charming and beautiful prostitute.

Needy Little Thing: Javi makes you ride his boot to prove to him how much you need him.

Miguel O'Hara

Take It All: Miguel throat fucks you. That's it.

Couch Sex: Rough couch sex and communication

Surrender: Miguel surrenders to you

The Card Counter

Washed In Black: William Tell meets a much younger cocktail waitress and although he initially rebuffs her advances, he soon finds himself inviting her along on his travels. Just for the summer... right?

Inside Llewyn Davis

Shelter from the Storm: Llewyn meets her and she shows him kindness. He finds a way to pay her back. ♥️🌶

1000 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION!!!!

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justafandomgvrl · 1 year

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Masterlist

Vax'ildan

Severe dislike to lovers one shot

Vex'ahlia

nothing yet

Percy

Fake Lovers to Dating

Kiss to Distract Guards

Keyleth

Caught Making Out

Headcanons

Playing With Their Hair Headcanons

Grog and Pike Platonic Headcanons

Pet Sitting

Lockwood

Unnamed Chapter One

Unnamed Chapter Two

Headcanons

Valentine's Day

Sharing a Bed

First Kiss

Requests

Lockwood x Lucy x Reader

Stargazing - Poe Dameron

Headcanons

Cramps - Kanan Jarrus

Sniffles - Steven Grant

Read To Me? - Steven Grant

Is That My Shirt - Steven Grant

Hallways - Steven Grant

Road trip - Jake Lockley

Since When Did You Care - Marc Spector

Kitten - MK System

Sharing A Bed Headcanons - MK System

The Blood Lake - MK System

Moon Knight - Gods of a Feather coming soon

You Don’t Know Me - Miguel O’Hara

Angels Tears - Blue Jones

Thoughts - Blue Jones

You're Bleeding - Leto Atreides

Cold Hands - Santiago Garcia

December 2023 - Santiago Garcia

Over Again - Llewyn Davis

Touchstarved - Jonathan Levy

Pathological People Pleaser - Jonathan Levy

Art Deco - Jonathan Levy

Not Afraid Anymore 🔞 - Jonathan Levy

Then and Now - Nathan Bateman

Pets - Nathan Bateman

Not A Christmas Person - Nathan Bateman

Flower Fields - King John

False God - King John

Cola - William Tell

Tattoo Artist AU Pt One - Laurent Leclaire

Tattoo Artist AU Pt Two - Laurent Leclaire

Please make requests!

I will NOT write adult x minor sorry!

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pleasuresoftheharbor · 3 months

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kind of annoying trying to find gifs of a movie that stars some popular actor guy everyone is obsessed with. i do not care about oscar whoever just show me fictionalized 1960s greenwich village

#speaking #there are so many x reader fanfics when you look up inside llewyn davis get out of heree

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myfavouritelunatic · 1 year

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I was tagged by both @helenvader and @pursuitseternal ❤️ thank you so much! 🥰

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, do not be shy and share anyway. ❤

So some of this will definitely be from things I haven’t published, or maybe even unfinished projects. Let’s see what the archives cough up...

1. Talk of the elf and the low man's arrival in Númenor had been rampant. (from The Blacksmith)

2. As I entered the dungeon to complete my usual cleaning duties, the first thing I noticed was that I was not alone as I had been the night before. (from the untitled cell fic)

3. “Fighting at your side I... I felt... if I could just hold onto that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being then I...” Halbrand let his voice trail off, suddenly afraid of how Galadriel would react if he finished his words. (from I Felt It Too)

4. Galadriel gazed longingly at the silver ring upon her finger. (part one of the Saurondriel companion pieces, which I’m now calling Two Rings)

5. There was only one being the dark lord’s mind was concerned with. (part two of the Saurondriel companion pieces, which I’m now calling Two Rings)

6. Galadriel wears two faces. (from an untitled WIP)

7. The sunrise woke you, it’s orange beams flowing through your window, bathing the room in early morning light. (from Mark Me, a Michael Langdon x Female Reader one shot)

8. You heard the door slam, jolting you out of your melancholic stupor. (from Your Strength, a Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader one shot)

9. The tick tick ticking of the clock. (from an unpublished and untitled Llewyn Davis x Female Reader one shot)

10. Darkness... an abyss... neverending... Steven... Marc... Jake... falling in... and pulling you down with them... (from Your Knight, an unpublished Moon Knight system x Female Reader one shot - which I COMPLETELY FORGOT I had written, and I might just publish it now 😂)

Tagging, with no pressure whatsoever: @honeyfarts666 @gil-galadhwen @nenyabusiness @lettalady @maeve-curry-writes @vellichormybeloved @bad-surprise @formerlyir @haladriel and anyone else who wants in! ❤️

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leiakenobi · 2 years

Note

Hello dear! CONGRATS on your follower celebration, you're amazing and you deserve all the 💜 and kudos!! How about #25 from the "things fictional couples do that makes me lose my mind + writing prompts" list with our boy Llewyn?

25. when they’re doing something outside, it’s dark outside, and one of them views something pretty in the sky, like a shooting star, or just the stars in general, and they pull their lover by the hand, all excited to watch the shooting star, and their lover looks at them in pure admiration

Hello lovely, I know it took me 2 months to write this prompt but it really is perfect for Llewyn and inspiration finally struck this morning. Thank you for sending it. 🥰

This one clocks in at 853 words and has a gender neutral reader.

——

You had been at the Gorfeins' vacation house for no more than fifteen minutes when you realized that Llewyn was miserable.

He tried not to let it show, of course, all polite smiles and quiet chuckles and his fingers interlaced with yours as the Gorfeins gave you a tour of the whole place. But his smiles were just a little too tight, his chuckles too weak and his grip on your hand tightening as he got a glimpse of room after room.

Luckily – if you could call it luck – your drive out to the Catskills had kicked off later than you planned, and the traffic had been worse getting out of the city than you anticipated, too, so the Gorfeins finished the tour on the guest bedroom and pointed out all the amenities before very courteously saying, "Now we'll leave you to it, we know how tired you must be after your trip."

No sooner had they eased the door shut than you'd turned to Llewyn and said, "You hate it here."

"What? No, of course I don't. Like they said, I'm just a little tired." Llewyn made a point of pulling you close and giving you a soft, sweet peck, and when you pulled away, he was smiling. "Now go on, you were talking about a shower for the last half hour of the drive. I can take care of unpacking."

"Such a gentleman," you'd teased, giggling over the way he scowled as he nudged you away.

Despite the fact that you both packed fairly light, you're surprised to emerge from the shower and discover that Llewyn is no longer in your room—you'd expected him to be lounging in bed with a book, perhaps, or calling his sister to let her know that you made it okay.

Instead, it's only the faint light of a cigarette at first that cues you in to the fact that he's sitting out on the small balcony connected to your room.

"All clean," you report as you nudge the door open.

He hums and looks up at you, offering a small smile that you can only just make out as your eyes adjust to the darkness. "And ready to take the Catskills by storm."

"Only if you are." You let out a soft groan and drop into the other chair, promptly leaning an elbow on the armrest and your chin in your hand. Llewyn is mid-drag on his cigarette, and when he sees you watching him inhale and hold it, he raises an eyebrow, so you continue. "I feel like I shouldn't have worked so hard to convince you to come out here."

Llewyn seems to be on the brink of arguing with you when you return his raised eyebrow, and then he falters, allowing a beat of silence. A beat of frankly wonderful silence, the kind of silence that had made you excited to take the Gorfeins up on their offer to join them for a few weeks: crickets chirping and a complete lack of honking horns or strangers bickering too loud outside your window.

"I don't hate it here," he reiterates, even though you have not actually suggested as much. "I just..."

You reach out and smooth your hand over his forearm, hoping that he'll receive the gesture as tender. From the way his lips quirk up, you think he does. "You just?"

"I've never been out of the city like this. Except for when I shipped out, I guess, but I don't know. It's different. All of that--" He waves the cigarette vaguely in the direction of the house. "--is different."

"Oh yeah, of course it is, sweetheart." You squeeze his arm tight, just once. "Of course it's a lot to take in. And if it's too much..."

Llewyn actually lets out a soft laugh, and you think this one feels sincere. "It's not too much. I'll get settled in. Some things might even be better out here than they are in Manhattan."

"What could possibly be better out here than in the city?"

From the sidelong glance he gives you as he takes another drag, he seems less than amused by your teasing, but he still answers upon the exhale, smoke wafting past his lips and above him. "Check out the lake."

You'd hardly even noticed it when the Gorfeins showed you the room, because night had fallen and you'd been trying to politely get them away as quickly as possible to give Llewyn more space. But looking out at the view now, your breath catches in your throat—over the scattered trees opening out onto the lake, and more trees on the far shore leading to the mountains, off on the horizon, and above it all, so many bright and shining stars.

"Oh, you think that's better than Manhattan?"

Again, you're trying to tease him, but then you look his way again and see just how focused he is on the view. He looks positively enchanted, even if he does only say, "Maybe a little."

You cast your gaze over Llewyn's face as he stares, and softly, happily, you smile.

#aellynera #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #created #prompt fill #look ma i finally finished off everything from my last round of requests

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coolx2-nodoubt · 2 years

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MY WORKS

Fluff ♡ Smut ☆ Angst ♤

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

MK System

STEVEN GRANT

Cookie disaster ♡

Mehndi ♡

Book Encounter ♡

MARC SPECTOR

Mehndi♡

Insecure♡♤

¿New Interest? ♡

JAKE LOCKLEY

Mehndi♡

Cécilia ♡

SANTIAGO GARCIA

LLEWYN DAVIS

Hug me ♤♡

CECIL DENNIS

Nipple play ☆

DUKE LETO ATREIDES

Haircut ♡

ABEL MORALES

Car trouble ♡

Falling ♡

BLUE JONES

RICHARD ALONSO MUÑOZ

OSCAR ISAAC

____________________________________________

Randoms: 1 2 3

#fanfic #moon knight #celebrities #marvel #marc spector #romance #steven grant #my works #inside llewyn davis #abel morales #oscar isaac

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eyelessfaces · 6 months

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

llewyn davis x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: face sitting

warnings: piv sex, obvious face sitting, oral (f receiving)

word count: 1.4k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

(a/n; there's a part inspired by this post, hi @my-secret-shame <3)

Today was one of those days. Not especially a tiring one, but a long one, one that seemed to drag out forever, that felt like was never gonna end.

You had understood this the second Llewyn joined you at your table at the Gaslight.

He didn’t tell you much; didn’t need to. He had an expressive face, but you liked the idea that you had somehow come to know it all by just looking at his eyes.

He had quietly settled beside you, capturing your lips in a kiss before lighting himself a cigarette and watching the act in front of him until the time would come for him to play.

The day only seemed to get painfully longer as he got on stage, having to witness Pappi taking advantage of the situation to hit on you despite knowing damn well that Llewyn was your boyfriend; he would punch him in the face if Pappi wasn’t the one to let him play at the Gaslight, if he wasn’t contributing to the rare occasions for him to make some money.

The moment you got home is the moment you truly realized how done he was, how exhausting carrying the weight of his day over his shoulders had been.

You watched as he hastily and messily kicked off his shoes, throwing his coat over the nearest surface, and you followed closely as he quickly beelined to the bedroom to then sprawl onto your bed, tapping his lap to invite you to straddle him.

So you did, knees as either side of him, his hands gently rubbing up and down your thighs as he told you about his never ending day.

It was endearing, the way he was looking up at you and smiling lovingly, as if it was the only thing he still had the strength for. You ran your hand through his hair as you listened to him talk, your fingers grasping his chin to kiss him once he was done.

Both of his hands grabbed the back of your neck to bring you closer and deepen the kiss, shifting to roam down your body once his tongue slipped inside your mouth.

His fingers toyed and fiddled with the waistband of your trousers, and it didn’t take long for you to decide to remedy that, stripping out of your clothes as he mirrored your actions, sighing as you eventually lowered yourself down onto his cock while he lit a cigarette.

There is something so deeply arousing about this, about him nonchalantly smoking his cigarette while you are riding him.

It is a slow pace, almost lazy; a focused frown has grown over Llewyn’s face, cigarette tucked between his lips, one hand settled at your hips, guiding you up and down, his other hand trapping the stick between his fingers, momentarily pulling it away from his mouth to mindlessly blow the smoke to the side, eventually putting it out once it is done consuming.

You lean to kiss him now that his mouth is accessible, his tongue mingling with yours, the familiar taste of nicotine in his warm breath.

His hand sets at your cheek while you kiss, shifting to tangle in your hair, setting over your waist when you pull away once it becomes necessary.

“Stop riding me” his voice is sudden, a bit rough, and you oblige. You stop, immediately interrupt the rolling of your hips, afraid something is wrong, but his thumb is gently rubbing circles over your skin so you’re even more confused.

“I wanna try something” he declares as he shifts to adjust his position, tucking the pillow comfortably under his head.

Your curiosity is piqued, you’re always eager to try new things with him. You raise an eyebrow and your mouth starts to gape to ask for what he has in mind, but he speaks before you get the chance to.

“Ride my face” he suggests as his hands settle back to your hips, and he feels you clench around him as he pronounces the words.

Oh.

You had experience in riding him, but not that way.

Llewyn had also eaten you out plenty of times before, but always in ways where he could control what he was doing, and where there were no actual risks for you to harm him.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you” you mutter just loud enough for him to hear, your hand coming to wrap around his forearm.

“Dove, if I suffocate in your pussy I’ll be the happiest man on earth.” he jokes, a playful, reassuring smile over his face as he squeezes your sides, a laugh slipping from your mouth. “You’re not gonna hurt me angel”

You nod, the simultaneous feelings of apprehension and excitement pooling in your belly.

You lift a leg up to lift yourself up from his cock, a small whine leaving your mouth at the loss, shifting to then crawl and place yourself so you could straddle his chest.

“You’re sure about this?” you ask, looking down at him.

“A hundred percent. C'mon, get that pretty thing over my face"

You get yourself onto your knees, either of them caging his face, and he licks his lips as he takes in the sight above him, staring at the slick starting to drip down onto the insides of your thighs.

“If something’s wrong, slap my thigh real hard” you suggest.

He scoffs, gripping onto your hips. “Sure thing, c’mon baby.”

You bite down onto your bottom lip, cautiously lowering yourself down onto his face, holding tight onto the headboard of the bed, careful not to put your whole weight down on him.

You can’t help the moan that slips from your lips; the first contact of his tongue over your folds feels heavenly, and a small gasp quickly follows when he pulls down onto your hips to bring you closer to his face, almost smothering himself in you.

“Shit, Llewyn” you keen, your head dropping as you bite down onto your lip.

His hand quickly comes to fist his cock, missing the feeling of your tight cunt around it though really, the taste of it and your sounds alone could work him to an orgasm.

Words can barely escape from your mouth, you're only able to deliver parts of them when he’s mouthing at your cunt like a starved man, licking into you like it was the last time he was ever going to.

“O-ooh yeah– just like that” you whine as the abrasive feeling of his beard against your sensitive skin brings an extra sensation, starting to really roll your hips onto his face, truly fucking yourself on his tongue, way less cautious about your movements now that pleasure has taken over your other senses.

“Baby, I’m close,” you breathe out after some time, – quicker than usual, frankly – struggling to get the words out between moans, the task so challenging when his nose starts rubbing against your clit.

He hums into you in response, the hand at your hip squeezing harder onto your flesh, the hand at his cock pumping it more firmly to make sure you would both cum at the same time.

Your eyes squeeze tight, nails almost digging in the wooden headboard when the feeling grows inside of you and makes your mouth fall agape, a long, broken, noise-complaint-worthy moan escaping as you cum over his tongue.

Llewyn’s low, deep grunt resonates against your sensitive pussy as he fists his cock and pulses into his own hand, the vibrations of the moans and grunts leaving his mouth prolonging your climax as you come together.

You climb off of him once it’s over for the both of you, placing yourself beside him, still standing onto your numb, shaking knees, your forehead resting against the brim of the headboard while you try to catch your breath and regulate the beating of your heart.

“Good?” he asks, and you can hear the slight rasp in his voice after being deprived of air for some time.

“Are you kidding me” you chuckle, breathless. “That mouth of yours has other talents than just singing.” you turn and really sit on the bed, giving your quivering legs a rest.

You look down at him as he chuckles, his mouth and bearded chin glistening with your juices, the sight making your stomach turn in the best way possible.

Then it hits you, the delayed worry, the possibility that it might have not been enjoyable for him, or maybe even uncomfortable.

“Was it alright for you? Did I hurt you?”

“Did you feel me slap your thigh real hard?”

—

+ @flightlessangelwings

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