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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Weather the Storm

When Satan gets angry, you have your own way of helping him blow off steam.

SATAN x afab!Reader 3.1k words | NSFW | Smut | Hurt/Comfort Content warnings: Dom/sub undertones, rough sex including marking/biting, jealousy and possessiveness, brief discussions of safeword usage and boundary limits.

Loving Satan is like being wrapped in the softest blanket on a cold winter’s day. His sweet words and gestures are like a soothing balm for your soul, and his whispers and promises against your skin warm you from the inside-out.

The inevitable part of being with Satan is coping with his sin. His anger is a monstrous thing. He becomes a single-minded entity that delights in causing havoc and pain for others. It scared you when you first knew him. Sometimes it still does.

There are times when he desperately wants to hurt someone, to feel their bones crunch in his fist and to taste their blood on his tongue when he rips out their throat with his teeth. Satan doesn’t want to be that way all the time anymore. Not when he has family and friends to help keep him grounded. Not when he has you.

Those that don’t know Satan very well might think you’ve tempered him a bit. He seems more relaxed, he’s happier, he’s less dangerous. What they don’t realize is that his anger is never gone, not completely. He tries so hard to keep it buried, but it’s an inevitability.

When, not if, the rage inside him bursts open like a dam, he tries to warn you before it’s too late.

School ended nearly four hours ago, and you’ve been stuck at RAD helping Lucifer and Barbatos in the student council chambers. Lucifer insisted the task was too important and it just couldn’t wait.

You had to excuse yourself so you could call Satan and let him know you weren’t going to make it for the date he had planned for you. He acknowledged your message with a single monotonous word and hung up.

You haven’t heard from him since. His silence is your warning to stay away.

By the time you get home, you’re irritable from everything going so wrong.

Maybe if you weren’t struggling with your own conflicting emotions that make your heart ache, you’d stop yourself from walking towards his room.

If you weren’t as frustrated and disappointed as he is, you’d stop yourself from knocking on Satan’s door when you know what to expect.

At least, you think you know what to expect.

He doesn’t answer, and it’s your final warning.

You let yourself inside and close the door behind you.

His room is dark, lacking the light and warmth of the lanterns and candles he likes to use when he reads. Without them, his room feels like a dungeon, cold and empty and hopeless.

You can navigate the stacks of books easily and you slowly walk towards the middle of his room. You haven’t seen a trace of Satan yet. You haven’t heard him yet either, but you know he’s here. He’s luring you into his trap, a tantalizing torture to show you that you shouldn’t have come, that it’s too late now.

Behind you, there’s a faint metallic click of the lock on his door sliding into place.

He doesn’t use the lock to keep out would-be interrupters. The lock is meant to keep you in, to delay your escape should you try to run. It’s another reminder of your foolish choice to come here tonight.

His bed should be in front of you, just a few more steps and—

You freeze when you feel a hot breath on the back of your neck.

You didn’t sense him approaching you, but now you feel him all around. You’re suffocated by his presence, like he’s a black hole determined to pull you down into the abyss with him.

His aura thrums with power the same way that air crackles with heat before a storm. The storm that rages inside him threatens to destroy you both.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice is low and rough, gritty. The words are coarse with bitterness and disappointment. It’s not a warning, it’s a mockery. He’s a monster gloating to his prey, warning you that your foolish human emotions led you down this dark path.

Maybe it’s not too late?

“Satan—“ you plead quietly, your voice a hushed whisper is the eerie quiet of his room. The only thing you can hear louder than the rumbling growl in his chest is the sound of your own frantic heartbeat.

But he’s not going to be merciful tonight. When you try to turn around and face him, he grips your arms and holds you in place. You wince when his fingers dig uncomfortably into your skin.

“You had your chance,” he reminds you, and you can hear the sneer in his voice. “You made your choice.”

He shoves you forward and you grunt when you land on his bed. You manage to roll onto your back before the mattress dips under his weight. His knees bracket your hips and his hands fist the sheets above your shoulders, effectively trapping you in place.

The demon straddling your waist and baring his teeth above you is beautiful in his anger. You love him, and you know he loves you. He’s staring at you like you’re the most scrumptious morsel, and you know he likes to play with his food.

You offer your body to him to use, a conduit to channel his rage into something a bit more pleasurable. Will he use his claws on you tonight, or his teeth? Will he murmur his praise for you against your ear while his fingers take you apart, or will he roar when his cock fills you so full that you’re left dripping after? You don’t know.

He’s close enough so you can see your face reflected in the inky green-black of his eyes, and he bends even lower as his weight pushes you deeper into the mattress.

“Tell me your word,” he growls into your ear. It’s not a suggestion, it’s a demand - he knows how serious this is for both of you.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “Whiskers.” His chest rumbles against yours, and he acknowledges your choice by licking the shell of your ear and pulling at the lobe with his teeth.

Satan’s not the first lover you’ve had, but he’s the first one who insisted you needed a safeword if you were going to be intimate together. He was concerned about his anger issues putting you at risk when you’re most vulnerable. It’s for your protection, something that will draw him back from the ledge before he goes over.

You’ve never had to use your safeword with him before. But when Satan drags his teeth along your jaw and moves further down so he can sniff at your neck and lick over your pulse point, you wonder if that might change.

The warm puff of air on your neck when he exhales is the only warning you have before the tethers snap and he begins.

It feels like you’re floating in space, teetering on the line between pleasure and pain. Satan shreds the clothes away from your body with his hands and his teeth, exposing inch after inch of skin for him to claim as his own. The sounds he makes are animalistic as he drags his lips across your body, sucking marks into your skin while he groans with primal satisfaction.

Your own sighs and moans are quiet compared to his, but you don’t hide them - he wants to hear you. You keep your hands raised above your head and grip the blanket so you’re not tempted to touch him; that’s not what he wants, and he’ll restrain you if you try. You want to be good for him tonight and give him what he needs. You know your own needs will be satisfied later.

One of his hands curls around your shoulder and his nails are digging into your skin so he can hold you still beneath him. Your shirt is in tatters and his lips are latched onto one of your nipples, sucking the hardened bud between his teeth and biting with the slightest bit of pressure. His other hand slides down the valley between your breasts, dragging his nails across your skin so pink streaks mark the path of his greedy fingers.

You arch into his touch when he smooths his hand over the sensitive skin of your soft belly, and you jolt when he doesn’t hesitate, going under the waistband of your pants and into your underwear. His fingers cup your soft mound possessively and then his fingers creep even lower–

“You’re so wet already,” he murmurs when he lifts his head from your breast, but you freeze at the tone of his voice because something is wrong.

He’s not praising your readiness for him - he’s furious, but you don’t know why.

Before you even realize what’s happening, he’s prying your legs wide apart so he can kneel between them. You raise your head but all you can see is a messy tuft of blonde hair. You hear a growl that’s so close to your skin it almost vibrates inside you. Your mind goes blank and a pained scream rips from your throat when he bites the soft, meaty flesh of your inner thigh.

He’s muttering to himself when he finally unhinges his jaw and he lets your leg fall back onto the mattress. You tilt your head back and blink rapidly, but you can’t stop the tears leaking from your eyes. You whimper when the painful throbbing makes your body twitch all over.

You don’t think you can move right now, but he doesn’t need you to. He tears your pants away so he has better access, and he grabs your hips and rolls you onto your belly. He drags you back and raises you to your knees, and the only thing holding you up are his hands keeping you where he wants you.

He doesn’t give you warning when he plunges his cock deep inside you and it leaves you gasping against the sheets. You tilt your head to the side and breathe while your body relaxes around him. The rough glide of his cock isn’t painful, but you can’t come like this - and he knows that. The angle’s not quite right and the pace is too fast; you anticipate having some difficulty walking when this is over.

“Does my brother try to seduce you with that silver tongue of his when he keeps you to himself all night?” The words are punctuated by his powerful thrusts. You don’t answer because you know he doesn’t really expect you to - he’s seething, venting his frustrations to you and exposing the cause of his anger tonight.

He’ll talk to you properly after this, and you’ll work it out together like you always do. Right now, he’s using every ounce of his strength to reclaim your body and your love for himself.

“I see the way he looks at you, but he can’t give you what you need,” he snarls over your shoulder. “You’re mine.” He buries his cock as deep as he can, and you choke on air when he fills you in the most perfectly agonizing way.

Tonight’s not the first time you’ve seen him rage with jealousy before, but he doesn’t usually bite you like that. You consider using your safeword because it feels like your thigh is on fire, and the rough movements of his cock splitting you open while his hips grind against you is starting to take its toll.

The word sits on the tip of your tongue, but you recognize the telltale signs that he’s close: his pace is faltering and the rhythm is sloppy, and the noises he makes are getting louder, breathier, and even more desperate.

You think you can bear a little more.

It only takes a few more greedy thrusts before he grunts from the force of his release and he whispers your name like a mantra. You gasp when he pulls out unexpectedly and he coats your folds and the tops of your thighs with his cum. It’s sticky and warm when it dribbles down the inside of your legs. He lets go of the bruising grip on your hips and you finally collapse onto the bed, exhaling shakily with relief.

When Satan slumps over onto the bed beside you, his demonic horns and tail have gone and his naked body glistens with sweat. His eyes are bright and clear now, and they’re shining with love and warmth and concern rather than the anger from before. He puts his hand between your bodies and you lace your fingers together.

He rolls on his side towards you and nuzzles his face against your shoulder. He peppers a few quick, soft kisses on whatever skin his lips can reach before he whispers an incantation that fills the dark room with light. Your eyes sting and you groan dramatically when you hide your face in the blanket.

He chuckles and leans forward to kiss your shoulder again. “I’m sorry, love, but I need to make sure you’re alright.”

His hands glide over the smooth skin of your back, pausing over lingering scratches or hints of bruising he left behind. You can feel his lips brush over the marks he made. He murmurs to himself and you know he’s making a list of potions or healing spells he thinks might help.

He nudges your side gently and helps you roll onto your back. You throw your arm over your eyes - the light is still too bright for your liking - and you hear his breath hitch. Most of his marks were left on the front of your body, but he seems surprised by his own enthusiasm. When his hand lingers on your leg, you know what he’s looking at.

“I don’t remember biting you this hard,” he says quietly while he inspects the mark gently with his fingertips. His voice is sad, and you lower your arm so you can meet his gaze. There’s regret lingering in his emerald eyes.

“It’s the only one that really hurts,” you tell him, kindly but honestly.

He gets up from the bed and looks for his clothes. There’s a healing potion in another room that he says will help heal your bite wound and dull the pain.

He picks up some of your clothes by accident - what’s left of them, anyway - and his mouth drops open in shock. “Oh, I think I owe you a new pair of pants.” He holds them up for you to see, and he sticks his fingers through the holes his teeth made in the fabric. You both laugh when he wiggles his fingers towards you.

“That pair was getting worn out anyway,” you say with a lazy grin. “All I ask is that the replacements you buy me have pockets.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want,” he promises. He tosses the ruined clothes aside and slips out the door to fetch the supplies he needs to treat your leg.

Only seconds after he’s left, a muffled buzzing noise on the floor distracts you from Satan’s absence. You lean over the edge of the bed while you look for your D.D.D., hissing at the pain when you accidentally put too much pressure on your leg.

Lucifer: I don’t need the details, but do let me know whether or not you’re alright. I heard you earlier.

He must’ve been waiting for Satan to leave the room so he could check on you discreetly.

You: We’re both fine.

You: But you owe him an apology tomorrow.

Lucifer: Very well.

You drop your phone back on the floor, and Satan returns a few minutes later with a bundle under his arm. He hands you a potion to drink and a bottle of water. He even brought your private stash of human world painkillers, though he’s not convinced they’re very helpful. Within minutes, the ache in your leg is barely noticeable and he assures you there should only be a small bruise left by morning.

He sits on the edge of the bed and starts washing you with a warm, damp towel. His touches are gentle and he takes his time. By the time he’s finished wiping away the mix of slick and cum that stained your folds and thighs, you’re sleepy and in desperate need of cuddles. He must feel the same because he dims the lights and crawls onto the bed to rejoin you.

“You didn’t come tonight,” he mentions off-handedly. He rests his head on your chest so you can play with his hair. Your legs are tangled together, and every once in a while his arms around your chest hug you just a bit tighter.

Even though you’re not usually in the mood for more once he’s done, he always makes sure that he’s not leaving you wanting. “I’d rather stay like this right now. Surprise me with something sweet tomorrow.”

You’re both too tired and emotionally drained to have a longer conversation about what happened. For now, you do tell him that you’re sorry you had to cancel plans with him and you’d like to make it up to him later. He apologizes for the disappointment and jealousy that set him off and caused tonight's outburst.

“I nearly used the safeword,” you admit quietly after a few minutes of silence. He tilts his head up so he can see your expression more clearly.

“The bite?” he guesses knowingly. Your pants are what probably kept him from drawing blood, but he startled himself with the viciousness of it.

“It was tolerable at first but it hurt more the longer it went on.” You smile and brush his hair back. “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me on purpose.”

He sighs quietly and doesn’t speak for a moment. “No, even during the worst of it, I never want to hurt you that badly. In the haze of it all, it’s easy to underestimate the power I use but I try not to get carried away.” He squeezes you tightly. “I love you. Please stop me if I do something like that again. I don’t want you to suffer with that sort of pain.”

After a few minutes of whispered conversation and featherlight kisses, you nudge him off you and roll onto your side. He clings to your back and puts his arm around you so he can hold you close and nuzzle into your neck.

“Maybe we should get you a mouth guard?” you ask him with a hint of amusement, stifling a yawn as you close your eyes.

“I’ll add it to the list along with your new pants,” he quips, chuckling into your hair. You don’t respond, but he smiles when he hears you snore not long after.

He lays awake and holds you close, pressing his ear to your back so he can listen to your heartbeat until he falls asleep.

➤➤ Obey Me! Masterlist

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m1d-45 · 1 year

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the scottish play

summary: some things are better left unknown.

word count: ~3.1k

-> warnings: spoilers for liyue story quest, reader dies (again). blood mention. zhongli probably cries off camera

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @atsukawolfcat || @thehoneymushroomhealer || @imyme20 || @bittersweetorpheus || @vampirecatsw || @willburzone || @some-mildly-happy-human || @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy || @inmyprinceerafr || @depressed-bitchy-demon || @kithewanderingme

<< first part || < masterlist >

you should have known better than to trust liyue.

a rock hits your shoulder, kicked down from the ledge behind you, and the abyss mage in front of you shouts a cry lost amidst the hilichurls’-

“YA!“

clubs are grabbed and shields are raised, the electro shooter taking your wrist roughly and pulling you away. you hear human voices behind you, calls to get them! and that’s the missing artifact! nearly drowned under your heartbeat in your ears. the electro hilichurl pushes you behind the grenadier before grabbing its crossbow, hastily beginning to load it. in the camp, you can see an archer up on the stone ledge—the same one you entered from—as well as four other millelith guards in the camp itself. an electro-infused bolt skims the cheek of one, a spear narrowly blocking the swing of a club, two have to ditch their weapons and roll to dodge to mitachurl’s charge-

the grenadier’s calloused hands pull you out of the way of an arrow, one that lands in the sand and quivers with force. the hilichurl pushes you away, waving its hands for you to run.

if you’d have paid more attention to the fight, you’d have noticed the hilichurls were fighting defensively to give you time.

you turn on worn, hole-ridden shoes, doing your best to take in air as you run down the path. this area of liyue is sparse, with no weaving pathways to hide in or trees to cover you. there’s nothing for the earth to shelter you with, and other than bringing more dust into the air around the archer, it’s just as helpless as you are.

there’s a building set besides a crack in the huge wall besides the path, a fork approaching quicker than you’d like. the path continues forward, toward trees, but it’s a long way to the small forest..

you turn. an arrow bounces off the stone just behind you as you do.

immediately you recognize your mistake, spotting first spiked walls, then rippling red banners, then the archer towers they’re attached to and the guards climbing down the ladders on them.

the crack you saw seems to open into a larger area, with trees you’ve never seen before, so you take the risk that the millelith can’t climb all that quickly with their armor and keep running. it’s not like you would have survived turning back anyways; they’re the ones with the archer towers.

a guard makes it to the ground just as you pass, throwing aside his spear and running after you. an arm loops around your waist, then another over your arms as you fall.

the weight of the guard on top of you knocks out the air from your lungs, leaving you dazed. he quickly gets off and pulls at the arm with the ring on it as you desperately try not to breathe in dirt.

you fuss, trying first to close your hand into a fist then hitting at his with your other. it works, the ring falling to the dirt, and though you try to follow it with your eyes you quickly lose it in the light of the sun.

the guard starts to wipe desperately at the dirt and you take the opportunity to run into the crack, pulling a random bundle of things you hope are medical supplies off a nearby cart as you do. the guards shout at you, but you keep running, taking a set of confusing turns before coming across a small campsite. there are tents and rudimentary walls, but you decide to shove yourself into the space between a stack of crates and a wall, holding your breath.

footsteps thunder by, slowing to a stop not too far from where you’re hidden. you clutch at and attempt to cover the white in your arms, turning it towards the wall as far as you can without moving the crates. you don’t dare move to peek between the boxes, simply sitting in your little corner and hoping beyond reason that they won’t think to search in the most obvious area.

“what?”

“where’d they go?”

“find them!”

your heart thuds in your chest and you have to fight to keep your breathing quiet, pressing yourself further against the wall as the guards search the small camp.

the floor tips and spins beneath you, the world blurry and hazed from dehydration and exhaustion, but you stay hidden as boots stomp by again, listening to the irritated words from one of the guards as they pass.

“we must report this to the qixing.”

zhongli walks through liyue harbor, one hand holding a folder and the other one clenched in a fist. he can feel the stares of people as he passes, the new whispers on their tongues, and he sets his jaw, picking up the pace.

he’s used to the stares. people pointed him out as odd, eccentric, the funeral consultant that everybody knew yet didn’t know why, or where he was from. the stranger that somehow knew alarming amounts of liyuen history, the new worker at the parlor who puts up with the director, the one with a vision from liyue yet seems adept at using it nonetheless.

stares are regular, until they’re not.

the empty space on his lower back where his faux-vision once was affects him more than it should. maybe because it feels like a real one, now, since he hasn’t been able to manipulate geo ever since it turned against him. the lack of pressure, the missing weight of glass and gold, no matter how papery the front it put up, bothered him. it wasn’t real in any sense, it was utterly worthless, it didn’t glow or have any connection at all, and yet.. it still refused to obey him. touching it felt like he was cutting his palm open over and over despite the lack of physical injuries, and when he tried to have hu tao reattach it to (a new) chain, it only stabbed at him through his clothes.

it was fake. it shouldn’t be possible.

but he couldn’t tell anybody of his plight.

nodding a greeting at the blacksmith, he continued his journey across the harbor.

“-consultant for-?”

“-where’s his-?“

“-did his vision-?”

questions flew in the space between people, gossip lighting the way between lampposts. he knew they were watching. he didn’t know why it unnerved him so much.

zhongli kept walking.

two millelith guards are standing duty near the bridge, and he listens in on their conversation as he passes.

“-hear any updates on the situation?”

“no, only that they’ve gotten to the chasm. it’s to dangerous for the qixing to send-..”

hm..

he files the information away.

zhongli openes the door to the parlor, nodding in greeting at ferrylady. perhaps he should pay the chasm a visit on the chance that the guards were speaking of what he hoped they were.

you wouldn’t be too much of a challenge—he is still, after all, morax, the god of war and contracts. he’d signed on the dotted line when he took his first breath, signed to be the warrior of his god and to stand by their side for as long as he lived. it was a deal he could easily uphold, and one he’s not going to fail.

he’s served his god all his life, and he refuses to allow such disgrace to befall their name.

perhaps if he’s lucky, he’ll be the one allowed to slay you…

he shakes the thoughts of bloodshed from his mind, knocking twice on a door marked ‘director’. when he hears permission to enter, he wastes no time in pushing it open.

hu tao’s eyes brighten when she see’s it’s him, the pen in her hand twirling around her fingers in her excitement. “zhongli! you’re back quickly.”

he nods, stepping forward to hand her the folder. “the negotiations went easier than anticipated.”

her eyes suddenly narrow, hee hand retracting from the folder. “did you say what i told you to?”

“yes, director, i kept the price within the range you specified. i was simply commenting on the simplicity of the transaction; who knew it was so easy to-“

the air shifts, a presence materializing from a cloud of black and teal smoke at zhongli’s side. hu tao yelps, her chair skidding backward.

xiao catches the pen she throws at him with ease.

zhongli pulls it from his hand, the director having finally registered what happened.

“wha- who- you? y- you can’t just appear in my office like that!”

xiao paid her no mind, turning to zhongli and bowing, the latter easily dismissing the action.

“what news do you have?”

“i have scoured all of liyue and have yet to find a trace. in addition, b-… venti has not felt their presence upon the wind, and considering the tightening of security around the harbor thanks to the millelith, i can only assume they have either gone to sumeru through nantianmen or lumberpick valley, or they are in the chasm.”

the words of the millelith from earlier echoed in zhongli’s mind, a plan swiftly forming.

“i see. thank you, xiao. i will leave at once.”

with a nod, the adeptus vanishes back into a cloud of smoke.

“zhongli? who was that? and where are you going? who were you talking about?”

zhongli set the folder on her desk, the pen placed on top. “all in due time, ms. hu. until then, i’m afraid i must depart.”

“you can’t-“

“i promise that appropriate compensation for my leaving early will be arranged, and we may speak on the topic when i return.”

“‘li-“

“goodbye, director.”

black and gold fabric twisted around him as he turned, the empty chain across his back glinting in the light of the office. while he had some regret about leaving so harshly—he’d surely receive a rant about reliance when he returned—it was quickly drowned under his determination.

his god was calling, and all he’d ever wished for was to answer.

you stumble into a tunnel next to a blue waypoint, walking in as far as you can manage before crumbling to the floor. you have to go. to hide. you don’t know how many ‘lives’ you have left, and you’re not keen on finding out, not with the qixing on your tail.

you drag yourself next to a shining chunk of cor lapis, gritting your teeth at the pain.

how did it come to this?

to running from the millelith, hiding in the chasm of all places?

you breathe heavily as you sit against the wall, the sudden shift from relaxation to running for your life taking a toll. you put your hands on the floor to shuffle further against the wall only to wince, moving your palm to see what sharp rock you’d landed on.

except it wasn’t a rock. the ring, the one the dendro slime gave you, is sitting peacefully on top of the dirt like it belongs there. still clean, still shining, the gem without a scratch you can see as you lift it up. the tunnel is only lit by sun streaming in from around the corner, and though it makes it hard to see imperfections on the gold, the light only highlights the wear on your figure. your clothes are tattered and worn, reduced to scraps, that ring the only thing of passable quality. how ironic, that the thing in best condition was the one you never should have taken—where would hilichurls even get them? did you think about it at all?—and the one that almost got you killed.

again.

you couldn’t hold it against the millelith, really. you didn’t know where it came from or why. it didn’t look ancient to you, the gold still glimmering in the faint light, and the gem wasn’t large enough to be of any importance, but maybe it was. maybe it was some artifact that was really rare or highly sought after. maybe it was the dropped ring of some important ruler. maybe it was the wedding band of one of the workers here.

maybe you were just making excuses because you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate them.

..wow, this is kinda pathetic.

you do your best to wrap your wounds with the bandages you swiped, mumbling a quick thank you that they were bandages, no matter how covered in dust from your journey. between your shaky hands and the severity of the wounds, though, you don’t know if you’re actually doing anything of benefit. not to mention you’re still lying on the floor, in a dusty tunnel in the chasm.

dirt and rocks dig into your skin and wounds, scabs breaking as you curl up further, too caught up in your pain to hear the footsteps approaching you.

or maybe you do hear them, and simply don’t care.

you never had the highest level of self-preservation.

zhongli has lived for eons.

he’s seen it all.

nothing surprises him anymore.

….nothing should.

but as he approaches the tunnel the millelith had told him of, as he walks and hears hitched breathing and choked words….

his knuckles are white around his polearm.

he turns the corner, stepping around a wooden support. dust stains the air as if trying to hide you from his view, but can still see. torn clothes, your hands wrapped in dirty bandages that are more likely to get them infected than protect, and you’re… you’re crying.

as he watches, you look up, matted hair falling into your face. you’re sitting next to a chunk of cor lapis, the ore looking like it’s glowing brighter than normal. in the golden light, he sees the tear tracks streak through the dirt on your face, and something like pity twinges in his chest.

something like a laugh leaves your cracked lips.

“morax…”

you knew?

you knew him?

how?

his posture tensed, but you only sat up straighter, leaning on the wall behind you. it was hard to tell if that was blood on the floor or just shadows cast by the ore nearby, but you were obviously weak.

you licked your lips. why hadn’t he moved yet?

“i don’t mind dying, you know. not if it’s you.”

you sounded weak, voice hoarse and painful, like your throat was lined with glass.

and yet… him?

why?

how did you even know him?

surely… surely you weren’t the same person as before, in wuwang hill, right? you weren’t the one who looked up at him with eyes that glittered not with tears but with admiration, your gaze sweeping over his face with such emotion. you weren’t the one that, even as he pointed his spear at your heart, dared to whisper a compliment?

…what did it matter? you… you deserved to be slain. he couldn’t be swayed simply because you looked like his god.

his hand almost didn’t want to obey as he leveled his polearm at your neck, noting the exhaustion with which you relaxed further into the stone. your eyes fluttered shut, your hand landing closer to the light of the ore. he could see a ring on one of your fingers: gold, archaic, likely stolen from a ruin nearby. how pitiful that an artifact would be ruined by you.

the golden point of his blade leveled against your skin, seeming to buzz with excitement in his hand.

he should make it quick.

in his hesitance, you spoke. “you want last words?”

to ask somebody on death row for the worst of crimes for last words would probably be itself a crime elsewhere. giving you the opportunity to take advantage of him while he was vulnerable—though he doubted you had the strength for that…

a small smile crossed your face.

he swallowed. his hand wavered.

“if you wish.”

why did you seem so familiar?

he was starting to shake.

it didn’t matter that you looked like his god. you were the imposter, you were the fake, but being here with you…

why was he hesitating?

this was a sin against his god, to allow such a devil to walk his nation. and to dare to feel sympathy for such a-

“i don’t mind if i die.”

but your voice-

you spoke so softly with his weapon pointed at your throat, every bob of your skin threatening to tear itself across its edge. and yet, you continued, leaving him no choice but to believe your statement.

“i don’t know why you want to kill me, but i don’t. really.”

in the golden light of the lapis and whatever extra was coming around the corner, your skin broke.

what were you saying?

why couldn’t he listen?

he was entranced by the bead of blood, almost shimmering in the light, rolling down your neck.

he had to kill you.

he had to.

why didn’t he want to?

“it’s a good day to die.”

that was a lie, the skies were gray and threatened rain, the earth itself irritated and rumbling with an anger you couldn’t sense. the only reason you said that was because you didn’t know.

he found himself believing it anyway.

“kill me, morax.” the way you said his name- “i’m… i’m sure your god would be proud.”

what did you know of his god?

in the instant anger overcame him, he pressed vortex vanquisher forward, pushing until he hit stone. you flinched, blood rolling down his weapon and falling into your lap in waves. to his surprise, it didn’t stain the blade dark with crimson, instead…

no.

he told himself it was the light.

no.

your eyes fluttered, struggling, and he compared the shade of the ring on your finger to the one on his weapon. even in the tinted lighting, they looked the same.

no.

it was impossible.

even as he tore his weapon away, a futile attempt to undo his actions, he knew it was impossible.

“kill me, morax.”

and he had, he had, and now he wanted nothing more than to take it back, dirt staining his knees as gloved hands fluttered over the wound as if it would magically stick back together.

“i’m sure your god would be proud.”

#shout out to the theat(re/er) kids that caught The Reference. i’m midas i think i’m cooler than i am and i’m new in town #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin #genshin impact #sagau impostor au #sagau zhongli #sagau hu tao #zhongli #hu tao #i put. way too much symbolism and foreshadowing into my GENSHIN IMPACT FANFICTION #me staring at the subtle intricacies of my word choices: damn that’s good. i am proud of this and strive to forever improve.#me realizing nobody gives a fuck about the difference between ‘useless’ and ‘worthless’: oh no #aakidcnwkrkr FUCK i need better hobbies #sagau xiao #xiao #angst #zhongli angst

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transfemarmin · 11 months

Text

summary: buying him flowers

it wasn’t to say you weren’t gorgeous yourself, and worthy of all the presents you were buying for your boyfriend; but.. you just hated the idea of your boyfriend spoiling you, if you couldn’t return the favor… so here you were; at a flower stand near pavitr’s home; buying a bouquet of musk roses for both him and his maya auntie. you handed over the money; and gave the salesman a smile; as he thanked you for your business; throwing in a free bouquet for yourself as you told him this was for your boyfriend and his auntie. a soft grin made its way to your face as you waved goodbye and continued your way to your boyfriend’s home; giving a soft two knocks on the door before his maya auntie opened it

“ oh [name]! what a pleasant surprise!” the woman wrapped her arms around you in a hug; your curls tickling her cheek, resulting in her letting out a giggle; “ I didn’t expect to see you today! I thought you had exams to study for!” she eyed the bouquets; a curious look on her face as she spoke; you noticed it, it was obvious; you let out a giggle as you picked up one of the bouquets and handed it to her; “ this is for you, auntie.” you spoke softly; a grin on your face as you watched her cover her mouth in shock; as you handed her the roses.

“ oh my! aren’t you a sweetheart?” you let a giggle fall out of your lips; as maya moved to the side to let you walk in; “ pavitr?” You called out as soon as you had stepped into the place his auntie and him shared; going into the back to his room; you knocked on his closed door; hearing a soft ‘ come in’.

when you did open the door; you saw pavitr.. his vibe was different, and his face seemed more sad.. he’d never tell you but miguel had just told him a few hours ago.. his canon event involved you.. he didn’t say what it was; to prevent pavitr from attempting to disrupt it and his universe falling apart like last time when he had saved his last girlfriend and her father… his universe nearly disappeared into the abyss! “ hey.. my love? are you okay?” you called out; your voice catching his attention and by default.. he looked up; you could see the dried tear stains on his face and that made your face drop with concern

“ …oh! pav what’s the matter?” you placed the bouquets down on his night stand; and walked over to where he sat; leaning over and wrapping your arms around him in a hug; “ what happened to my gorgeous guy?” you pulled back to stare into his eyes, and he shook his head; “ nothing..just..got something in my eye.” he gripped his bedsheets; he hated lying to you, but revealing he was spiderman and that you would have to die because of who he was.. was too much.

so he resorted to lying.. you had a feeling in your gut that wasn’t the case; pavitr’s eyes looked so sad. “ okay..” if he didn’t wanna tell you.. he’d most likely tell his auntie; that’s how things went, and then she’d tell you next time she saw you if he was still feeling bad;

“ I got you some roses, darling.” you spoke as you picked up one of the bouquet of musk roses; and handed it to him; he took it in his hands; his eyes showing a glimpse of happiness as he stared at the musk roses; a smile so wide it reached his eyes almost instantly coming across his face..

no one had ever done this type of thing for him before.. It made him excited; a look of happiness made it’s way to his face as he stared at you; his face was flushed, so hot he could swear he was most likely going to run a temperature.. but he pulled you into a hug

“ woah!” you yelled out; but it was quickly replaced with giggled as pavitr began to attack your face with kisses; telling him how much he loves you after each and everyone.

#atsv pavitr #pavitr x you #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse pavitr #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr x y/n #pavitr prabhakar x you #across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #atsv #miles morales x reader #hobie brown #gwen stacy x reader #hobie brown x reader

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smuttysabina · 11 months

Text

Motherhood, with Jihyo

(Male Reader x Jihyo, 1900 words) Pregnancy, pregnant sex, milk, creampies, Mommy fetish, motherhood.

Jihyo has always been a "Mommy". Her voluptuous curves, her stern yet nurturing nature, her kindly face, her charismatic domination, her enormous breasts; all of these factors helped to define Jihyo's maternal inclinations. But after getting impregnated by Once, these inclinations have blossomed into something that transcends common motherhood. Jihyo is no longer simply a Mommy, she is The Mommy of Idols, the undisputed matriarch of breeding and love. Along with a boost to her charisma, pregnancy has bestowed upon her physical gifts as well. Her already capacious breasts have swollen even larger to accommodate the milk being produced within them. Her toned body has been sheathed in a fresh layer of flesh to fuel the new life within her, rounding out her curves in a most attractive manner. And of course, her toned belly has swollen outwards, bulging from beneath her breasts as it nurtures the child within her. Taken all together, Jihyo now resembles an ancient fertility goddess, benevolent and beautiful, filled with desire and love...

Like all idols, Jihyo has a depthless sex drive, a gaping abyss of desire fueled by the constant acclimation she receives. Unlike many of her ilk though, Jihyo effectively channels her lust into her ambitions and beliefs, making her a superb leader in dance and song as well as in ah, breeding. Like all idols, Jihyo's natural instincts and fetishes have been blown all out of proportion by her condition; resulting in a perverse affection towards impregnation. Due to the more, benign direction of her sensuality, it is rarely noticeable aside from an implacable insistence on creampies. Jihyo is not a whore-goddess like Jennie, indifferent atop a mountain of drained fans as she mechanically fucks them into unconsciousness. This restraint has kept her fellow members of Twice in check as well, if their leader is not visibly outrageous in slaking her lusts on stage, how can they be? Not that Twice is not riven with degenerate fetishes, merely that they keep them more subdued far better than other groups.

So it is a crisis then, that as Jihyo's belly swells ever larger, so does her sexual appetites. Her pregnancy has driven her nearly mad with lust, and it is all Twice can do to keep their beloved leader from doing something... drastic. And no, getting bred on live tv by nearly a thousand fans is nothing to get excited about; its positively banal compared to Rose pegging a government official during her speech before the public. Thus, Twice feed an ever growing river of fans into Jihyo's room, desperately throwing bodies at the problem in the hope that she will be satisfied until birth. All the while though, they worry about their own condition, soon all of them will follow suit and get knocked up by Once. And when that happens, Twice will become insatiable... but perhaps Jihyo will discover a solution to the coming cataclysm. The girls can only hope that their leader will save them once more; but until then, Jihyo continues to fuck with all the virility of a young mother.

An atmosphere of panic fills the Twice suites, staff hurrying everywhere, the girls directing the chaos with barely restrained hysteria; Jihyo has awaken from her slumber and requires... entertainment. All around you a febrile stir of lust passes through the fans gathered for today's session, all of you keen to experience Jihyo's motherly love. Through the grace of God (Jihyo), you have managed to secure a place at the front of the line, and are more than a little excited to make love to her unsullied sex. Jihyo's bedroom door suddenly slams open and Chaeyoung staggers out, her cheeks ballooning as she hurries over to a potted plant were she noisily voids her stomach. Nayeon and Momo rush over to comfort her, and from what you can hear Chae was forced to gorge upon her leader's pussy, drowning in her squirt and turgid cum until her stomach was filled to bursting. Momo courageously flings herself through the door to buy her compatriots time to organize the fans into proper order for upcoming gangbang. Nayeon dashes to you, dragging you towards the bedroom with unseemly haste, her eyes wide with terror as she gabbles unclear instructions. Then you are practically flung through the doorway, and finally encounter her.

Jihyo is radiant, everything you could possibly dream of. Her breasts hang heavy over her swollen belly, her thick nipples dark and erect, her thighs curve seductively to support a staggeringly large ass. Every inch of her is sheened with sweat and oil, accentuating her beautiful skin and giving her a softly radiant glow. A dark, tangled path of hair shrouds her pussy, already soaked through with heady juices. Even the scent of her is enough to send your reproductive system into overdrive, your hind-brain blaring at you that the woman before you is fertile. Jihyo wears a sweet, welcoming smile with ease, wordlessly inviting you to spend your virile seed inside of her again and again until you are drained... As you move to embrace Jihyo, your eyes flicker to the side of the bed, where Momo sprawls; ass in the air, a truly gargantuan dildo juddering in her pussy. As she hugs you tightly, Jihyo discretely tosses her blanket over her fellow Twice member; there's no need to worry about Momo, just focus on Mommy...

Your tongue wrestles with Jihyo's as she slowly maneuvers you towards the bed, caressing her inflated belly and groping her hefty breasts. With a sudden bump, she collapses backwards onto the bed, already opening her legs wide in anticipation of your rigid manhood. Faced with such an alluring proposition, you don't bother with any more foreplay, and simply plunge yourself into her. Jihyo's pussy is soaking wet. Her slick, sticky juices tenaciously cling to your cock, providing you with euphoric lubrication as you fuck her. Any idol can get wet, but Jihyo is positively dripping all over your cock, smearing your balls with her creamy fluids, thrilling your cock with exotic sensations. Motherhood truly becomes of her, so it is only natural that you moan her true vocation to her as you fuck her. Jihyo herself gasps with pleasure as her pussy devours your cock, reveling in pleasure as your hands grasp her swollen belly for leverage. The sloshing noises reach a crescendo as you increase your pace before orgasm, before subsiding to slow loud meaty slaps as you climax. Both you and Jihyo groan as your thick seed spews into her, coating her pussy in another layer of murky cream.

It seems a profane disservice to pull out of Jihyo, but at her urging you allow your cock to feel the cold kiss of the bedroom's air once more. But your dick is not kept cool for long; rolling onto her side to support her weighty belly, Jihyo motions you towards her flush lips. You happily comply, letting Mommy slurp your conjoined juices off of your shaft with startling enthusiasm, lowering yourself until you are parallel on the bed beside her. Gradually, you find yourself on your back, while Jihyo works your cock until it is once more stiff at attention. With a dreamy look, she scoots forward until her breasts engulf your entire dick, smothering them in warm, soft flesh. Squishing them together, Jihyo kneads her boobs as she uses them to stroke you, until tiny pearls of liquid weep from her nipples. You sigh with pleasure as Jihyo uses her milk to lubricate your tittyfuck, your tip now bright red when it peeks out from between her tits. Spotting this, she promptly latches her mouth around your cockhead, her cheeks hollowing even as she relentlessly uses her breasts to massage your length. Your second load fountains directly into Jihyo's mouth, filling it with such quantities of seed that she is forced to swallow twice.

But Jihyo is not done with you yet, pulling herself atop you she kisses her way up to your face. She grinds her soggy crotch against your own, eager to receive your long hard love once more. Her heavy breaths moisten your neck, as she urges you to get it up once more for her, to get it hard again for Mommy. Combined with the aphrodisiacal fluids marinating your cock, Jihyo's entreaties allow your manhood to make one last heroic stand; defying your mortal limitations for the goddess atop you. Who in appreciation of your efforts, will do the draining without taxing your already exhausted body. Leaning back, Jihyo moves your cock along her sodden sex, your tip hidden within her bush and she massages it with her folds. Then, to your surprise, she moves it even further back, and promptly sits on your cock, burying it within her ass. You nearly cum from sheer excitement, Jihyo's anus is far tighter than her pussy, rapaciously forcing you deep inside of her with every thrust. She bounces atop you, the child within her adding extra heft to her ride, slamming against you remorselessly. Such is the force of Jihyo's fucking that her pussy lips open themselves, revealing to you the pulsing pink hole you so recently were plowing. Jihyo uses one hand to balance herself, while the other plays with her hair, before descending to massage her leaking breasts. With an animalistic grunt, Jihyo cums around your cock, her coils clenching tight around you as she leaks all over your chest. Now her ride is punctuated by wet slapping sounds that reverberate around the room, an announcement to all of your lovemaking abilities. It is all too much for you; your balls mightily exert themselves one final time, depleting your last reserves of sperm to impregnate Jihyo's infertile guts. Who only stops her steady bounces when your flaccid cock flops out of her vice-like asshole, she pouts down at you, surely you have more for Mommy...?

Jihyo lowers herself down onto you, wide ass in the air, resuming her motherly blowjob as she encourages you to rise to the occasion once more. But your cock is utterly spent, shriveling within her mouth even as her suction grows ever more stringent. You are rescued from a horrible fate by the sudden arrival of another fan, who plunges within Jihyo's exposed pussy without warning. She groans at the unexpected pleasure, forgetting about you for a moment as she enjoys the raw heat building within her belly. Strong hands yank you off of the bed, Momo's strained face fills your vision as she pulls you to safety. She drags you through a back door, into a room filled with cots and stocked with enough supplies to satisfy an army. Dahyun glances up from a couch where she was busy cleaning her nails, an eyebrow cocked in elegant bemusement. Which quickly turns to dismay as Momo collapses beside you, messily extruding the massive vibrator still within her pussy with a gush of fluids. Dahyun gingerly tends to her fallen group member, ignoring you entirely until her friend has been taken care of. Only then does she drag you onto a bed, before giving you a speculative glance. You know, Dahyun does have some aphrodisiac laying around if you want to... Oh never mind, you're about to pass out anyways...

#kpop smut #twice jihyo #Twice smut #jihyo smut

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strlingsav · 6 months

Text

Drive: Six

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Reader

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You blinked a few times, your attention grabbed by a knock at your door. You groaned, pulling your eyes from staring at the TV, to eyeing the door. Standing to your feet, you trudged to answer it.

Your slippers hit the ground as you neared the door, wrapping your blanket over your shoulders to draw in more warmth.

Pulling the door open, your eyes met with a familiar face- Simon. You sighed, reaching to slam the door when his foot stepped forward and caught it before it could close. You ignored it, making your way back to the couch where you sat down with a huff.

"You ain't been answerin' my calls," He said, moving forward to enter your apartment. "Thought I'd check in."

He idled, unlike him, and awkward- full of unspoken emotions and feelings that he'd been harbouring since your surgery. He lingered by the door, watching you curl up on your sofa in an attempt to drown him out.

"Thought I told you I don't need you here," You answered back, your eyes glued to the TV.

He sighed, slowly stepping toward the couch, where you'd practically lived for the last few months since being dismissed. You hadn't cooked a meal, done laundry- you'd hardly left the comfortable and inviting abyss for anything other than the bathroom and a shower.

"Yeah," He nodded. "Y'said that. I don't believe it."

You rolled your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest.

"If I wanted to hear from you, I'd have answered your calls." You met his gaze briefly, before shifting to stare at the screen.

"There was a time you were glad to hear from me. Glad to have me here."

"That was before you fucked up my career."

He paused, his brows furrowing. So much had changed between spending the night wrapped in his arms and now- hardly able to stand the sight of him. You'd found out about his insubordination not long after that night; in court, where you'd been honourably discharged following Price's report of the incident. It was only mercy on Price's behalf that you hadn't seen more severe consequences.

Simon, however, was too valuable. His experience, rank, knowledge- they couldn't let him go. Shepherd wouldn't allow it, and the task force would be scrambling without him. So instead, they let you go. Dissolved your contract and effectively made you a social pariah in the eyes of your teammates.

You never knew exactly what he'd confessed to. Was it the entirety of your relationship? The nearly year-long affair that you'd hidden from everyone, including your captain? Or did he only mention a few nights, a few mistakes?

"Savin' your life is fuckin' up your career?"

"I'd rather you have kept your mouth shut. I lost my job. I lost my dignity, the respect of my teammates. I don't even know what to do with myself now."

"You knew the risks goin' in, sweetheart. It ain't my fault you ain't happy with the consequences."

"Except it is- because if you'd done your job instead of worrying about me, I wouldn't be sitting here on this couch."

"You'd be dead," Simon said, finding your eyes. "You'd be fuckin' dead. You expect me to let you bleed out? You daft?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Simon."

"We ain't talked in weeks. You can hardly look at me. So I'll talk," He said. "You've got no bloody idea how it made me feel to hear your voice over my radio. I wasn't gonna let you die. Hate me all you like, sweetheart, but if I were to do it over again, I'd do the exact same fuckin thing."

Your eyes met his, inhaling harshly as you deliberated what to say next. You were angry; maybe not at him, maybe at Price, or yourself, or the panel of military officers that agreed to have you discharged. But you were angry. Frustrated.

You paused, finally free to think for a moment while you stared at him. God, did you miss him. You missed his brown eyes, crooked nose, and disheveled hair. The smell he exuded that left your stomach with butterflies and calmed your senses. Your eyes reached his lips, twitching with restlessness and frustration. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel something other than utter failure and humiliation.

You clenched your jaw- how long could you truly hold out? Stay away from him? It was completely obvious from the moment you woke up from surgery and saw him across the room. You loved him. But your heart, regardless of whether it was in the right place, couldn't stand the thought of holding him back. You needed to be cut off from the source.

"I know," You nodded. "I think that's the problem. We got too wrapped up- too focused on something that wasn't real, wasn't sustainable."

"Not real?" He grimaced, backing away. "Don't you fuckin' say that. We both know it was real."

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you looked up to meet his gaze. Your stomach dropped.

"We liked it because it was wrong. Give yourself some time, you'll realize. You won't want me without the risk."

He glared, a deadly glare that made you feel scrutinized under his gaze.

"I don't know what kinda shit you been fed, but I still want you. Fuck- I want you. More now than ever, sweetheart."

He knelt down, letting his palm smooth over your cheek, his long fingers meeting the side of your head. He forced you to meet his gaze, those cold brown eyes poring into yours.

"I want you." He repeated, watching you inhale a sharp breath.

You wanted to cry, scream; anything to get him out of your vicinity, or else you'd cave. You'd give in to his sweet words and intoxicating voice. You'd give in to nostalgia and the warm feelings he flooded you with. But you wanted to be angry, wanted to stay angry so you didn't have to face exactly what you were feeling for him.

"Stop," You blurted, your hand wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to remove it. "Simon-"

He held strong, pulling the blanket off your body as he wedged himself between your thighs, pulling you closer. His nose brushed against your cheek, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"Don't-" You started, before he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours.

They were cold and unwelcoming, an effort to get you to be quiet, to stop talking before you said something that would end things indefinitely.

You squirmed in his grasp for a moment, before the nostalgia hit; the feel of his arms on your palms, a soft scruff formed on his face, his nose brushing against yours. His tongue slid inside your mouth, and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

You jolted forward, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he clung to your waist with his giant paw-like hands. He pulled you into his chest, turning his body to sit on the couch with you on his lap. Your hands grabbed at his face, whimpering as his hands drifted down to your ass.

"I missed you," He said between your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

He lifted your shirt off your torso, breathless gasps for air as you disconnected, before he removed his himself. Your eyes drifted to his impressively muscular abdomen, and the bulky shoulders and biceps that moved as he desperately pulled you into him.

You shivered, a low groan escaping your lips when he pressed his to your neck. His kisses were soft, savouring the texture and smell of your skin in case you decided to pull away. He reached around to relieve you of your bra, pulling it off you before his calloused hands glided up your sides and cupped your breasts.

Your hips moved forward, a motion of which you hoped would give some pleasure, especially as he showered your breasts with small bites and warm licks across your nipples. His hands dug into your flesh, frantically reaching for any part of you he could grab.

He lowered his hand to your waistband, sliding it beneath your panties to feel you again. His eyes shut, a heavy breath in as his fingers reached your clit. He missed the feel of you, how soft and silky every single part of you was. How inviting you were, how wet you got for him even when he'd hardly touched you.

"Fuckin' 'ell," He grumbled under his breath, while his other hand held you in place. "Y' feel so goddamn good."

You whimpered quietly, grinding your clit over his fingers, soft breaths fanning his face. You reached and pulled the waistband of your pants down, haphazardly removing your sweatpants before settling back down on his lap.

He swiftly lifted you, pinning you to the couch beneath him. Your hands flew to his chest, warm to the touch, and he paused briefly.

"Don't tell me to stop," He breathed, removing his belt with one hand as he pulled his jeans down his hips. His cock was pressed against your thigh, heavy, warm, teasing you with every subtle grind of his hips. "Please, sweetheart," He whispered, nose brushing against your cheek.

Your breath caught in your chest at his plea, goosebumps scattering your skin as he begged you not to stop, to allow him to please you.

"It's okay," You nodded, your arms sliding around his shoulders, pulling him against you. "I want you."

He groaned softly, aligning his cock with your pussy before slowly sinking in at an agonizing pace. Your back arched into him, your eyes meeting his as your jaw fell slack.

"Yes," You whispered, choked and strained. "Yes- please."

He buried his head in your neck, rounding his hips as he pushed his cock even deeper inside you. Your wetness allowed him to slide in with ease, and his choked breaths in your ear alerted you to the fact that he wouldn't last long.

"Missed you-missed bein' inside you," He mumbled, panting heavily beside you.

The confession made your heart clench- you knew Simon well. It took a lot for him to admit to missing you, even if it was said in passing while fucking you. He meant it.

Your eyes were watery; half pleasure and sadness, a bitter-sweet feeling that made you press your head against his shoulder, wrap your legs around his waist. You wanted to be close, you wanted comfort. You wanted things to be back the way they were, but a small part of you was almost grateful now. The other, larger, part knew that it was likely the end for the two of you. Your commitment had ended as soon as you were discharged, and you imagined Simon would move along to the next.

You knew he didn't want to hear that you loved him. He didn't want to know that even if he'd stuck his neck out and it lead to ending your career, you were thankful, grateful. He'd saved your life, you knew that, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you felt. Because if you did, you'd be making him choose between his career and yourself. And he'd choose his career.

His hand cradled your head, his thumb finding your lip, pushing his finger between your teeth. His elbow was placed beside your head, rhythmic thrusts that were consistent, hitting the spot every time. Your eyes made contact with his, brows furrowed, mouth agape as he thrusted into you, finding pleasure in watching your lips wrap around his thumb.

He craned his neck, his lips pressing against your throat, and at the same time, as your fingers circled your clit in tandem with his thrusts, you tilted your head back. A moan, from deep in your chest, animalistic and genuine, escaped as your muscles tensed, your orgasm descending quickly.

"Fuck sake," He grunted, overwhelmed by the strength of your pussy constricting around his cock.

You shivered, your consciousness returning as your orgasm finished in short bursts. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, and shortly after that, Simon's thrusts became short and rough. His hips slamming against yours, until he released inside you with a groan.

You fell back with a sigh, watching Simon's face, cheeks flushed, brows dipped together. He hesitated for a moment, before lifting himself off of you, retreating to the other side of the couch.

You sat up, making eye contact with him. It was silent, only the noise of the TV to cover the heavy breathing between you. Admittedly, it was uncomfortabl. It was the first time you'd felt awkward around Simon, unsure what was next.

He reached out to grab your shirt, offering it to you. You blinked, taking it and pulling it over your head.

"Thanks," You whispered. "For everything. I should've said that, before."

"No thanks necessary," He shook his head.

You waited a beat, with watery eyes and a dizzy head. You were beyond confused; what started out as a simple affair had turned into deep feelings and complicated emotions. It overwhelmed you, to say the least, and before you began to cry, you cleared your throat.

You nodded. "You should head out," You said, a lump growing in your throat.

You wanted him to stay. You wanted to blurt out that you loved him- but you couldn't do that to him, couldn't force your feelings on him when he wasn't likely to stick around. You didn't want to be the one to take things a step further while he was halfway across the world. It wasn't fair.

He looked shocked- like it was the last thing he expected to hear from you. He'd thought it was smoothed over, that you knew what he wanted. But your eyes couldn't meet his, and his gut sank as he realized you were never going to feel the way he did. You wouldn't want him the way he wanted you.

He stood from the couch, yanking his shirt on.

"Goodnight," He muttered, stepping past you as he walked to the door. "Just know I meant it. Everythin' I said."

Your head turned to see him again, briefly catching a glimpse of his boot before the door slammed.

#cod mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #strlingsavwrites #drive series

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magicalqueennightmare · 3 months

Text

Home

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

You take down Evan and make it back to New Orleans where Elijah awaits

Warning: mention of killing and a tiny smidge of spice

Your phone vibrated in your pocket causing you and Max both to mumble a curse as he spread a shield around you both with his magic, a tactic to make the men looking for the two of you simply look anywhere but the corner the two of you were in.

The Banes twins had figured out Evan had indeed poisoned those on his side against hunters, using witches who wanted a squadron of their own who was capable of taking on things that crawled out of the deepest abyss of hell and every other realm.

The only way to sever the spell would be to kill Evan. The issue with that was it had to be an instantaneous moment of you killing him while the coven Alicia and Max had formed for this stripped his witches of their powers.

That took this hunt from the level of “find the monster and kill it” all of you knew to forming a tactical team of hunters spread across the states. Enchanted coms gave you access to hunters states over trying to pinpoint Evan's exact location. You'd called the kill, everyone understood the importance to you that was being the one to put down this threat.

Once the threat passed Max lowered his shield and grabbed your arm “Come on” the two of you ran for his motorcycle that was parked nearby and nearly dove onto it.

Elijah didn't let his temper out but when another call went unanswered he was considering breaking the phone. “She's been gone for two weeks. She dropped contact three days in. Brother perhaps she moved on” Klaus’ voice hit his ears and he spun to face him “Her Nova is still in storage. Most of her belongings are still in her apartment. Why would she leave all of that behind simply to get away from me?”

The truth was Klaus was trying to provoke his brother by offering a challenge that you simply left because after a few days of your absence he'd seen what it had done to Elijah and Rebekah and tried to locate you himself. No trail of you had been left behind in over a week. Rebekah was distracted by Marcel so his goal was to not let Elijah consider the very real possibility that you may be dead.

“If she comes back near New Orleans we'll know but you can not make her appear in front of you from will alone” he tried to choose his words carefully and could see that they had little effect on Elijah. “I care for her Niklaus. I do not want to consider having lost her this soon after finding her”

You watched Alicia walk across the room time and again, going over the vials of herbs and ingredients that lined the table. Some of those had required some traveling to get your hands on and a few Dean had gotten shipped in on a favor from Ketch.

Your hands moved from muscle memory alone, loading your guns then sharpening your blades. Evan's location had been narrowed down, you had wolves nearby watching that could report back should he move.

This had taken nearly a month. You hadn't spoken to Elijah in so long the truth was you didn't expect him to be waiting on you when you got back to New Orleans. You knew what he'd say had he known what you were doing. He'd ask you to let him handle it. He'd gladly kill Evan and get Klaus to wipe out the witches but you needed to do this yourself.

Max walked in the door and looked from you to his sister “It's time. We've got a half an hour window. It's now or never”

You were exhausted and sore when you practically rolled out of Alicia's car “Sure you don't want me to stick around?” She asked but you shook your head “A witch as powerful as you? Marcel will send people knocking. I'll be ok”

She laughed “Just call if you need anything sweetheart. You should sleep better tonight” you grinned “Oh hell yes”

—----------

You walked into the door of your apartment and dropped the bag of dirty clothes next to the door but took care to push the bag of weapons under the bed where they would be close at hand. You desperately needed to shower.

You thought of Elijah as you walked into the bathroom. You wanted to see him but part of you feared his reaction to how long you'd been gone.

Instead you hit Rebekah's number on your phone as you walked into the bathroom. The moment she answered you heard her breath a sigh of relief “About bloody time! I was afraid you'd fallen off the face of the earth”

You laughed lightly,guilt slipping into your mind “I'm sorry Bek. I just needed to handle this on my own” “I understand the need but a text would've been nice. Elijah has been unbearable” you grimaced slightly “How bad?”

She laughed and the noise wrapped around you. You hadn't realized how bad you'd missed her as well “Let's just say he was ready to set fire state by state until he laid eyes on you again. Klaus had to talk him down” christ if Klaus was being the voice of reason..you closed your eyes “Chances of delaying him knowing I'm back?”

“I can give you maybe half an hour” “You're an angel with fangs Bek” you bid each other goodbye with promise to meet the following day before you laid your phone down on the sink and quickly got into the shower. Evan's blood was still caked on your arms and splashed through your hair. You couldn't face Elijah bloody.

—---------------

You walked out of the bedroom and had just plugged your phone in and sat it on the end table next to your bed when there was a familiar knock at your door. The thought to make him wait flashed through your mind but you pushed it down.

You walked over to the door and looked down at what you were wearing. You'd tossed an oversized shirt and sleep shorts on. He'd seen you in less considering.

You opened the door and he blasted by you into the apartment. “Come on in” you mumbled, the sarcasm in your voice falling flat when you turned to face the vampire standing in the middle of your home. Anger rolled off of him in waves. Instead of his usual suit he was wearing that damn henley again and you wondered if Rebekah had told him to wear that since she knew the effect it had on you.

You shut the door then turned to lean against it with your arms crossed over your chest. You'd done nothing wrong. You owed him no explanation and wasn't about to grovel for his affection. “Rebekah said you've been a bit unhinged?”

He scoffed at your response “Tell me, how would you like me to react? You left and haven't spoken to any of us in a month” “I had business of my own to take care of” you replied and within the blink of an eye he was in front of you, eyes skimming your body “and you didn't trust me with the information of who you were after?”

You uncrossed your arms, placing both palms flat on his chest to give you enough room that his presence wasn't dizzying. He let his hands come to rest on your hips, you didn't protest because in truth you were craving his touch.

“If you respect me Elijah, you'll respect that I had to do this because it was my former fiance that was targeting hunters. I brought the threat to my community, I had to handle it” He nodded slowly “and if you respect me darling the next time you need to go on one of these little missions I simply ask you tell me”

He leaned down enough to be looking into your eyes “I don't like the thought of losing you” you didn't know how to respond. You'd expected a lot out of this but not a confession of not wanting to lose you. You knew how you felt about him but you knew you were human, you'd die probably sooner than later given your life. Were you worth the effort?

You didn't want to give voice to those concerns. You just wanted to feel Elijah. You moved your hands up his chest to hook them around his neck and bring him down into a kiss. The moment your lips touched you let out a light sigh. This was what you'd been missing for weeks. The kiss was hungry and charged, both of you feeling the need to devour the other.

His hands went from your hips to your thighs and he picked you up effortlessly. You gasped at the movement and he used it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, rolling it against yours. You ground your hips down against his, feeling how his body was already reacting to you.

You were forced to pull away from the kiss in need of air so he moved to your neck, nipping the areas he knew would make you quiver in his touch. “Bed Elijah, please” you moaned and he grinned into your neck “What happened to my smart mouthed little hunter who was ready for a fight moments ago?”

You pulled back and glared at him “You've got five seconds to get me to the bed” before you could get your sentence out completely, your back was on the bed and he was over you “Fast enough?” You shook your head but couldn't hide how your thighs clenched when his hands slipped under your shirt, fingertips barely grazing your bare breasts.

“Please quit teasing” you begged and damn him he had the nerve to smile almost boyishly “I've waited a month to touch you, taste you. You're going to get comfortable and let me enjoy this” you wanted to argue, to throw some sarcastic comment back but the way he was looking at you pulled every thought out of your mind. You nodded slowly and his smile turned from boyish to devilish “Good girl”

—-------------

You could remember the first few times you and Elijah were together. He'd been gentle, almost too gentle. You understood his fear of hurting you. He was strong and had so many years of experience and as much as you loved being held and worshiped there were times you wanted it rougher, to feel his fingertips bruising as he drove into you pushing you over that peak of pleasure.

He'd learned what you liked and was intuitive enough to know just what you needed. Tonight he knew you didn't need soft or gentle, you needed to clear your head of anything but him.

—----------------

You gripped his hair tightly as his tongue worked at your clit, fingers curling over that spot deep inside of you that had your back fighting to arch off the bed despite the fact that one of his arms laid across your stomach held you in place. “Elijah..please…fuck”

You'd already come twice and damn him he was determined to make it a third time before he ever even stripped free of his clothes. You could feel that pressure building in you and the moment he barely let his teeth graze your sensitive flesh you came with a cry of his name falling from your lips. You pushed weakly at his head “Too much…too damn much”

He left one final kiss against you then leaned back to smile up at you “Giving up already?” You wished you had the energy to fully retort but you simply waved at his clothes “You're severely overdressed Mikaelson”

He nodded then stood, quickly stripping his clothes before crawling back up your body slowly,nearly at a human pace. When he reached your lips he caught them in a rough kiss allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue “You look absolutely exquisite like this”

You opened your mouth to respond but he chose that moment to slowly push into you, clearly enjoying the way your mouth fell open and your eyes closed against the stretch. “Tell me what you need” he whispered, unmoving as he placed open mouthed kisses along your jaw taking special care to tease every place he knew would have you clenching around him.

After a moment you opened your eyes to find his gaze locked firmly onto you. You gave him a small smile “Show me how much you missed me” He shook his head with a slight smirk “All my years of living and you may very well be my undoing” a sharp roll of his hips ensured you didn't have the ability to reply beyond a deep moan falling from your lips as your nails dug into his shoulders.

You woke up curled up to Elijah's chest. It wasn't the first time the two of you had spent an entire night wrapped up in each other but the sight of waking up to him next to you was something you'd never grow tired of.

He groaned lightly as he stretched around you “How are you feeling?” You placed a kiss on his chest “Delightfully sore and happy to be home” he smiled at you referring to New Orleans as home. “How long do I have you before Rebekah steals you away?”

You glanced at the clock on your nightstand “You've got a couple hours” he leaned down to pull you into a kiss “In that case, I still have a month to make up for” you felt his hands begin to roam lower and moaned into the kiss. You may have to meet Rebekah for dinner instead of lunch.

#elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals fanfiction #tvd fanfiction

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fulcrumwrites · 20 days

Text

Prompt #11: Random Whump Scenarios

Just a few whump scenarios on the mind that I’m too busy (*cough* lazy) to write. No plot, just vibes. Feel free to use.

1. Jaw Wired Shut - medical/lab whump. Whumper wires their test subject’s jaw shut to stop them from biting, speaking or screaming. Maybe add a glue that wears off in a few hours.

2. Iron Man - Captive locked in an iron coffin that is shaped to their body. Arms, legs, head perfectly fitted in a solid suit of metal with only a window for their eyes.

3. Layered Gag - Whumper excessively silences their captive by stuffing a rag in their mouth, tying a bandana over it, taping their lips shut, and finishing it off with a locked muzzle.

4. Lassoed - Bad guy lassos the hero, catching their torso and pinning their arms to their sides. Drags them around a bit before throwing the rope over a tree branch or bar, hauling them up and tying off the rope. Hero dangles in free air kicking and writhing in humiliation.

5. Exhausted Hero - A hero’s rouge’s gallery intentionally works together to wreak havoc around the city to wear out the hero. Hungry and exhausted, hero makes mistakes and is nearly killed until their team or another hero swoops in to help.

6. Building an Immortal - Mad scientist replaces lab rat’s organs with machinery to create an immortal cyborg.

7. Man in the Iron Mask - A noble’s doppelgänger steals their identity and stows them away in the dungeon while hiding their identity behind a locked iron mask.

8. Suspended Prisoner - A dangerous prisoner is kept in a large cell, wrapped in chains, locked in a tiny cage, or strapped in a harness as they dangle over an abyss by a hook.

9. Adhesive - Kidnapped by a mad scientist, hero or spy is tied up and submerged into a vat of mysterious liquid. The substance dries like candle wax when exposed to air. Only another liquid the scientist invented can melt it.

10. Abandoned Asylum - Reporter or blogger explores an abandoned asylum, but feels they are being watched the entire time. A heavy blow knocks them out and they wake up to find there is one driven-mad doctor left, and they are trapped as their new patient.

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #whump #prompts #writing prompt #whump prompt #whump community #i have more #i should be sleeping #Whump on the brain #feel free to use

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lovelettersforthedamned · 7 months

Text

Too Close For Comfort

--genre + trope: collegeAU! hurt/comfort, angst, sfw (safe for work)

--pairing: tsam!peter parker x gn!reader

--word count: 1.1k

--author's note: FIRST FIC! WE UP!!!

--gif credits: @peachyspaceslvt

Tuesday, October 19

The late-night air feels crisp during the height of fall. Summer had faded away along with the memories of weekend trips with Peter dancing around in your mind. It had become easier to fall asleep while waiting by your windowsill for your masked hero, but never flawless. You look out of your window to see the gleaming lights of the city reflect back into your eyes. “Every light is another story, another life”, you think to yourself. Trying to distract yourself until Peter comes home is not easy, considering your eyes are threatening to close. You’re dozing off when you hear the groaning of the metal from the fire escape. Your eyes snap open at the familiar sound.

His gloved hand reaches for his dirty mask, the familiar shit-eating grin on his features, “Good Morning, sweetheart.” He’s being a smartass.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” you retort back. You back up from the window as he lets himself into your shared apartment. Your eyes dance across his familiar figure, and that is when you notice a limp in his step as he walks towards you. Turning on a light to confirm your speculations, your eyes lock onto a scarlet red footprint marking your wood floors. “Peter,” your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, “W-what happened?”

Peter turns, studying his own footprint marking the floors, he chuckles, “Nothing.” Your eyes flick from the mark on the floor back to where he stood, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from. Your gaze locks onto the torn flesh on the left side of his abdomen. Your eyes widen in shock. Rushing towards him, he frowns in defeat.

“This!” You point at his sides, “This is nothing?” You snap.

“It’s fine,” his voice comes out flat as he tries to brush past you.

Trying to reason with him, “In what world is this considered ‘fine’, Peter?” You continue to follow him around the room. Making occasional stops at the kitchen cabinets as you collect supplies to patch him up.

“In my world, this comes with the job! You wouldn’t understand, sweetheart.”

You stop in your tracks, as you digest the words he barked out.

He notices the sudden shift in your demeanor and takes a step towards you. You take a step back. “(Y/N), wait-”

“No, it’s fine,” You raise your hand in defeat, “Since I wouldn’t understand, I’ll leave you to it,” Shoving the supplies into his arms as you walk away. The deafening silence was almost too loud for him to bask in. He winces as he hears the bedroom door slam shut. He can’t move, paralyzed where he stands in the dimly lit kitchen. The thoughts of the moments prior swim around in his mind. A sharp stinging pain pulls him out of his transfixed state. He groans out of annoyance, along with his wound, the weight of his own words ignite a new pain in his chest.

In their dimly lit bedroom, your glimmering eyes reflect the same city lights you were distracting yourself with not even an hour prior. You’re thinking of the moments that led up to this pointless argument. Thinking back if the dispute was even worth it. Your mind is swallowed by the never-ending spiral of your own thoughts when a faint knock at the door pulls you from the abyss that is your mind. You rise from the comfort of the mattress albeit still smelling like last night's events.

Opening the door, you’re met with a pale-faced Peter, coated in a sheen layer of sweat. He’s leaning against the doorframe, clearly doubling in pain. He’s still wearing that stupid smirk, the same one he wore earlier. His eyes are half-open, lidded in exhaustion. Muttering a repeated ‘I’m sorry’ before his knees buckle and his broad frame collapses straight into your arms dropping the supplies at your feet.

Your knees wobble as the weight of your neighborhood Spider-Man nearly crushes you as you lug his unconscious frame towards your bed. Laying him on his back she reels away to assess the situation. Fuck…His suit’s still on. Trying to peel down his suit while he’s passed out is not an easy task. The suit sticking to his damp skin due to the dirt and sweat caked on from his outing earlier that night making it harder than needed.

You managed to get the suit lower than the injury still bleeding at his side. Quickly you stand, making your way to the abandoned items on the floor. Running them back to Peter as quickly as possible, your hands shake as you drop and sort the things on the bed beside him. You pour the rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth and carefully begin cleaning the perimeter of his wound. His body jolts under your working hands and a small hiss of pain is heard from his lips. His breath comes out as shallow gasps as you continue to work. You look up at him and his mouth is moving, but you can’t hear anything. Your gaze falls back onto the task at hand without hesitation, not knowing that Peter has been mumbling faint apologies this entire time.

There is more movement coming from him as you continue to work, catching your attention. “(Y/N), I’m sorry.”

Yet your hands don’t falter at the words, too zoned in on the task at hand. “We’ll talk about it later, just let me help you,” You whisper. The only noise gracing your ears are the sounds of his shallow breaths and the hammer of your own heart in your ears.

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean to snap I just-”

Tears begin to form on your lash line, “Peter please,” You beg, “Just let me help you right now.” You glance up at the man through your lashes, He frowns, but he continues to let you work as you finish cleaning the outside of the injury. You grab the small bottle of antibacterial salve, “It’s going to feel cold.”

Getting a small amount of the paste on your hand you slowly begin to rub it across the laceration. “Fuck,” He groans out of discomfort. You continue to work the remedy around the skin before grabbing the gauze and medical wrap.

You sniff and clear your throat before asking him, “C-can you sit up a little?” He slowly sits up and his muscles tense under your hands. After laying the gauze, you begin to wrap his abdomen. As you finish your work, that’s when you realize how close you two are.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you look up at him, finding his gaze already melting into yours. Both eyes not threatening to stray from one another, but actually doing the opposite. His gaze softened as a form of an unspoken apology.

--author's note: what were last night's events??? what are tonight's events???? don't forget to like, reblog, and comment!!! love you bye.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #andrew garfield peter parker #college au #hurt/comfort #sfw #marvel #angst #light angst #gn reader #tasm!peter oneshot #oneshot #reader insert #sassy peter #first fic

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savannahsdeath · 6 months

Text

THE CONNECTION ENDING

knight!ellie x princess!reader

read the first chapter; here

warnings: honestly none, just suicide

writers note: a short ending but i couldnt not write it;(( my own fic makes me sad thats so silly

you felt the wind pierce your body. the air was thick and cold on the cliff you were standing on, dozens of meters above a raging sea. you were only a few steps away from falling and after covering this distance there was no way you'd survive. not only you couldn't swim, but the height was risky itself. how beautiful.

the sea glistened in the darkness, the moonlight revealing its many waves and foams. despite the distance, a gentle breeze carried the smell of the salt water, wafting over your face with each breath. you could hear the thunder of the breakers crashing against the rocks below you, and the sound had a certain rhythm that seemed to be planned in its monotony.

with every step, the wind whipped your clothes and hair around, making you feel even more unstable. your stomach lurched at the thought of falling, your heart beating rapidly and threatening to escape from your chest like a panicked bird.

"but it would be a beautiful way to go." you smiled to yourself, leaning too far forward and gasping as the howling past you wind nearly knocked you over the edge. you felt stupid and vulnerable as you backed away, shivering from the cold, but also from fear, and from the feeling of life rushing through you.

you had to do that, sooner or later, but you weren't ready yet. you had some time to enjoy your last breaths, sounds and views. you continued to savor the moment. the beauty of the ocean and the air on your skin was worth the risk of falling. even more so, you felt more alive now than you've ever felt before in your life. you looked away from the abyss below and turned your gaze towards the stars. the vastness of the universe was both exciting and inviting, and you felt a pull to dive into the unknown. you hoped 'the unknown' will result in meeting your beloved ellie in the afterlife. after all of this, you deserved a good moment. a sad happy ending.

you turned your gaze towards the stars. your eyes lingered on the vast expanse of blackness and twinkles of light. you remembered a song ellie often sang to you, as you sat on her lap on the verge of falling asleep. you swore you could see her lips moving, hear her soft tone singing, and feel her gaze on you as she sang it to you on cold summer nights. she was the love of your life, and you knew you'd see her soon.

you felt a tug in your chest, as if something was pulling you towards the sky. the vision of her seemed to call out for you, inviting you to join her. your mind and heart called out back to your love. your body and soul reached towards her. the edge of the cliff was a small barrier between you and a beautiful reunion, a reunion that has been waiting to happen.

you could feel the wind picking up, as it pushed you to the edge. you could feel the warmth of ellie's love, the happiness of her smile, and the comfort of her embrace waiting for you, calling out to your soul to take the leap of faith and join her forever. your soul was already with her, you knew. your body and mind were the only ones left behind, but they were ready to be connected with her too.

you took a deep breath and stepped off the cliff. the time seemed to slow down as you dropped towards the crashing waves below and you felt nothing but peace wash over you. you were finally free from the constraints of this mortal world, flying towards the heavens to be with your love once again. you closed your eyes and smiled, knowing that you would soon be in ellie's loving embrace. as the water came up to greet you, you felt no fear or anxiety. instead, you felt only joy and peace, knowing that ellie's love waited for you on the other side.

✧˖°

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hermit-lover · 6 months

Note

hi! just want to say that i absolutely adore your writing! always finds a way to have me latched on! o(*^▽^*)o🌺

not sure if you're taking requests right now, but may i ask for a ren x sheep hybrid!reader angst/fluff? he needs more love, especially with what's been recently going on with him irl..

just the two comforting each other; giving each other hugs, positive affirmations, all the cute fluff that i really need! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ♡

feel free to discard this one if it feels a bit much.. no rush, of course!

remember to take care of yourself, eat and drink some water!💜

Reassurance

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

Character: Rendog x Sheep!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1.3k)

Theme: Romantic, Angst to Fluff

Summary: When the world gets to be too much, you can always find solace in each others arms.

T/Ws: Mentions of existential dread, negative events, sadness

A/N: Sorry this took me so long!! Ren does deserve more love :D

A shudder ran through your body, trying feebly to ward off the deep chill that crawled into your bones. Even with your fluffy wool, the strange cold that blanketed the sever seeped in. It been lonely recently, the other hermits busied with end-season projects. You however felt....pointless. You had nearly completed your mega base, but were in no state to do the detail work it deserved. Minigames made and played, hermit harassed...

You had nothing. Hollowness a gaping hole in your ambitions.

Well, not entirely.

A small bubble of bitter warmth built up in your chest as the thought of him slipped through. Charming smile, welcoming arms, and easy words. You missed him, but he too was feeling the end-season grind. Fluttering around his boat raceway, Rendog ignored you.

It probably wasn't his fault, the day a hermit doesn't accidentally overwork themselves is the day the earth stops turning!- You quickly shake away memories of a looming anxiety and a too-large moon. Settling instead into this paraylzing chill. The fluffy blanket- a gift from him- cradled you snugly. But it was as if your blood had turned cold. Heart to stone.

A buzz from your comm pulls you back to the dark room, soft ear twitching, screen lighting up with a notification. Hope and confusion muddles your fuzzy head. You grope for the metal box, dragging it towards you. It takes some heavy blinks in order for your pupils to adjust to the onslaught of light, but when they do- your eyes widen.

'Hey, need any help with any projects?'

...

After so long of neglect from Ren the message pulls a mixed reaction. Excitement, and anger. Your fingers dance across the keyboard without thinking.

'No. No need to bother.'

Its snarky, you know it, but your too damn tired to be polite.

'Are you sure? is everything okay? :(' His message pings back, almost instantly. You hold back a cringe, knowing somewhere deep within that lashing out is childish.

'Yes.'

Turning the comm over you stare into the dark abyss of your room. Void a welcome blanket. Covering you and hiding from the outside world. Eyes drifting shut, and you nearly pass out before a buzz jolts you. With a huff, you turn away from the intruding device, nuzzling futilely into the soft sheets. A few more buzzes pass before the pressing silence is back.

Faint birdcalls, the wind against the windows and trees outside, occasional rocket. It was soothing, but reminded you how the world goes on without you. Every hermit plunged into projects or Decked out. While your here.

Here.

Withering away pitifully. Holding back a sniffle you mourn. How did they have such endless energy? How did they deal with the increasing pressure upon their shoulders? How did Xisuma stay so ontop of everything and everyone? How was Tango constantly there for Decked out? How did Grian manage his own life games? How did-

A knock startles you. Snapping your jaw shut to hold back a bleat.

...

The stretch of uneasy silence that follows almost has you questioning if it even occurred. Maybe you were so desperate you were going mad-

"I know you're in there. If you don't want to answer that's alright I just- ...wanted to see you."

His tone is...soft. Sincere. Almost...tired. It stirs in your chest again.

...

You could never stay mad at him.

"Come in." You answer, voice scratchy from lack of use. You swallow, feeling the grit. It seems to take him a minute to realize you gave permission, but you can hear him shuffle and the door click open. It casts a rectangle of light into the dark room, His shadow outlined against the back wall. Ren stumbles inside, kicking off his shoes, and setting on the very corner of the bed. His weight makes it dip, and your heart skips a beat at having him close. Longing to untangle from the bed, and tangle into him, but pride holding you back. He smells of the cold and pine, yet the underlying scent of sweet musk and pumpkin pie like you remember. Ears twitching as he takes a deep breath, indicating your attention towards him.

"So..." Ren begins, surely picking at his cuticles like he does when he's nervous. He's almost never nervous, seeming so sure in all his actions. It hurts you to know he's hurting. Stupid empathy. "How are you doing, baby? I know its been a while since we've had time to hangout.." You huff, bitter amusement forcing a harsh smile.

"Since you've had time to hangout." you correct plainly, and he cringes.

"Right...I'm sorry, baby. I-" He takes an unsteady breath. "This isn't an excuse, but i've been having a really hard time mentally. With the raceway, some weird lingering vibeys from the king, Decked out, approaching the end of the season...It's all a lot. And I've been isolating myself and I know it." He's been having a hard time too...The realization chokes you up. He wasn't ignoring you, he was struggling, same as you. That idiot.

"Baby?-" You cut him off before he can ramble further, lunging from your blanket prison and into him, grappling and flopping backwards to pull him ontop of you. His warm skin sends goosebumps down your arms and a jolt up your spine. He allows himself to be pulled- or perhaps he was genuinely shocked. For a second he remains tense, but your soft hands and hair against him soothe away the nerves and he melts.

"You're an idiot." You scold affectionately, blunt nails drawing up and down his back. For the first time in a long time, warmth crawls beneath your skin. Heart melting from its icy prison. He grumbles, warm breath in your neck shivering pleasantly.

"I know." He relents, you make a noise of protest.

"But you're my idiot, my brilliant, adorable, amazing idiot." The words fall easy from your lips, he was truly a light in your life, and it was easy to tell him. The thumping of his tail against the plush bed brought a smile, you always found it adorable how his body betrayed him.

"Don't flatter me baby, I should be groveling to you" Ren shoots back, leaning back to meet your gaze. His eyes are like gemstones, glittering with affection, yet tinted by exhaustion. "You're wonderful, caring for me despite your own troubles. So talented in everything you put your mind towards, and you always look damn sexy doing it." He winks and you flush, hiding the embarrassed bleat with a cough. Laughing airily he leans, resting his forehead against your own. "We'll get through this slump together, alright baby?"

Humming in agreement you admire his features in the low light. Long eyelashes and quirked smile. What you wouldn't do for him.

"And, lets work on communication. Right?" You raise an eyebrow, sending a flush across his cheeks. "What? don't get sheepish on me now." You joke, a common slight towards you due to your fluffy heritage.

"No no of course not- thats your job." Ren agrees, basking in your faux annoyed eyeroll and small bleat.

"But seriously- together." You insist, smile sweet on your lips.

"Together." He agrees, he would vow himself to you a million times over, give up everything in his life should you need it, wait on your every need.

And you would do the same.

His lips are as soft as ever against your own, slightly chapped from the cold wind, but supple and plush. Ren kisses like it was the last kiss ever, pouring his heart into the connection. Sturdy, warm, caring.

Yours.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft fandom #hermitblr #atlas writes #hermitcraft fic #rendog s9 #rendog x reader #rendog #renthedog #hc s9 #hc

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 5 months

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a/n: i know i said i probably wouldn’t write more for brady, but, uh, here we are. this is porn with the barest minimum of plot. like genuinely this is so deranged but i had a wild time writing it. MAJOR props to @smileysvech for the title because i couldn’t think of a single one 😭

word count: 10.5k (😳 i had NO idea it was this long omg)

tw: period sex, like big time. this is essentially all smut and you’ve been warned. blood, obviously

summary: when you’re on your period, brady just wants to make you feel good

When Brady comes home after practice and his workout, a full five hours after he left the house in the morning, he finds you in the exact same spot on the bed - curled up in the fetal position. You have the plush Stormy he bought you as a joke when one of your date nights accidentally ended at the pro shop cuddled against your chest, your face pressed into the top of the pig’s stuffed head. You lift your head slightly when you hear him step into the bedroom and mumble a soft, pitiful ‘hi’ before pressing your face back into the stuffed animal.

Brady lets out a sympathetic hum and sits down on the edge of the bed, a plastic bag crinkling in his hand. “Hey, sweetheart, still feeling crappy?” His fingers are cool against your skin when he reaches over and brushes a few pieces of hair off your forehead. His forehead is creased with concern, full lips downturned in a frown.

“Every damn month, Brady,” you whine, pulling your knees up closer to your chest, trying to add pressure to alleviate the cramps. “Every month and somehow I’m still always knocked on my ass.”

Your periods had always been difficult, lasting a full seven days and coming with headaches, sore breasts, nausea, and raging cramps. Days one and two were always the worst and it blew your mind how you were surprised that you felt like hot garbage every time. It’s like you forgot about the symptoms and misery the second it was over. Being on birth control had helped a bit, but birth control came with its own side effects - a rapid weight gain, migraines worse than you’ve ever had before, and a total death blow to your sex drive. So, off the birth control it was. The weight had slipped off and the migraines were reduced back to a normal headache. It had taken a second for your libido to come back, worrying you, but thankfully it was back a few months after stopping the pills. Now you just have to suffer through the worst two days of your period, the edge coming off with a borderline unhealthy amount of Advil going into your body.

“Maybe this will help?” Your boyfriend grins a little as he rustles through the plastic CVS bag and withdraws a can of raspberry Arizona iced tea and two king sized Butterfingers bars. He holds the candy bars between his fingers, splayed out like he’s displaying a deck of cards.

Tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by Brady’s thoughtfulness and the flood of hormones in your body. You nod a little, giving him a wavering smile. “You’re too good to me,” you reach out and flatten your palm over Brady’s grey-sweatpants clad knee, the closest body part of his that you can reach from your position in the middle of the bed. Brady snorts a laugh.

“Sweetheart, this is nothing,” he leans back a little and sets the candy and drink on your bedside table, knocking the family-sized bottle of Advil to the floor and pushing your half-finished Tessa Bailey novel to the edge, nearly sending it to the abyss between the piece of furniture and the wall. “Whatever you need from me, I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

It’s game day tomorrow, at home, which means Brady really is off the hook from team responsibilities until morning skate tomorrow. A sharp cramp works its way through your uterus and you wince, wiggling a little to stop your butt cheek from going numb.

“Can you just…like, cuddle with me?” You ask, rolling your neck so you can look up at Brady’s face. His eyes are soft and a low throb of want fights the cramps. You feel gross though, bloated and sore and right now all you can handle is being the little spoon to Brady’s big.

Brady’s nodding, already laying back on his side of the bed, “whatever you need from me, sweetheart,” he says, rolling onto his side and opening his arms for you to scoot in. His body is warm and inviting and you could cry with how badly you just need to be held right now. You feel stupid and silly and fragile, but Brady’s never shied away from giving you the comfort you need. He’s still and patient while you settle your head on the inside of his bicep, pressing your back against his chest, your ass flush against his groin, your knees bent and his knees slotted in right behind yours. Every inch of your body is pressed against Brady’s and the body heat coming off of him is better than any heating pad.

He wraps the arm that’s supporting your head over your chest, his forearm resting against your collarbone, and slides his other hand under the hem of your sweatshirt so his warm, broad palm can rest on your lower stomach, pressing down with gentle pressure to help your cramps. You sigh happily and relax back against him, tension seeping out of your shoulders and spine.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath hot against your ear and cheek. You nod, closing your eyes. Brady curls his knees up a little more so you’re both bent closer to a fetal position and there’s more relief for your lower back.

“Perfect,” you mumble, wiggling just a little so you’re even further in the cocoon of Brady’s arms. You can feel the slight press of Brady’s cock against the curve of your ass, but even that’s comforting, more so mentally than physically, since it’s proof that Brady still finds you attractive even when you feel your grossest. “How was practice?” You ask, happy to listen to Brady talk while you ignore the twinge of cramps.

He chuckles a bit, his chest vibrating at your back. “Same old,” he says and it feels so good when his chest moves against your back, the soft rumble of his voice in your ear. “Brett says to tell you that Amy’s gonna text you about a viewing party for the away game next week, thinks it’s her turn to host?”

You hum a confirmation, nodding against Brady’s arm. “It is. I get the game when you’re all up in Montreal,” you reply, knowing you’re probably going to have half a dozen texts from Amy when you eventually muster up the energy to pick up your phone. Brady’s hand rubs soft circles against your lower stomach, releasing more of the tension that’s built up without you realizing it. You shift again, stretching your lower back and feeling the giant pad you’re wearing move around. Brady has to be able to feel it with how closely you’re pressed against him and the thought makes you tilt your hips forward, away from his dick, so he doesn’t realize that you’re basically wearing a diaper.

Brady presses gently on your stomach and on your shoulder with his other hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles a little sheepishly, and you wonder why until he continues, “I know you’re not in the mood to have my dick poking at your ass. Swear I’m not that guy that’s worried about getting off when you’re feeling so crappy.”

“Oh!” You bite down on your lip to smother a little smile even as your nose burns with hormonal tears. Honestly, it hadn’t even occurred to you that Brady would think you were shifting away because of him. “No,” you rush to reassure him, twisting your neck so you’re looking at him from an awkward angle. “I’m not…I didn’t think…oh fuck, I just didn’t want you to, you know, have to feel everything that’s going on,” you wave at your lower half with one hand vaguely, “down there.”

“Sweetheart,” Brady’s lips quirk up in a little smirk, “I’m thirty years old, I don’t have any issues with what you’ve got going on. Besides,” he chuckles a little before kissing your temple, “I’ve seen the box of pads under the sink.”

Your entire face flushes hot and you grumble, “well, let’s just not talk about that.” Brady laughs again and kisses your hot cheek. It’s almost unnatural how sweet he is, but you suppose after the string of terrible boyfriends in your early twenties, this is what it’s like being in an adult relationship with an adult man.

“How about you close your eyes and try to nap?” Brady suggests. He subtly pulls you closer again, until your ass is back where it belongs against his semi-hard dick. His thumb strokes an arc under your belly button and you sigh, warm all over from Brady’s body curled around yours. “I know you tossed and turned all night.”

“Sorry,” the words get lost in his bicep, your cheek pressed against the fabric of his t-shirt. “Tried not to move so much.”

Brady’s hand moves in lazy circles against your skin and he keeps you pressed tightly against his chest. He’s functioning like the world’s greatest weighted blanket. When he replies, his breath ruffles the little pieces of hair escaping your messy bun. “Should’ve woken me up, I would’ve spooned you until you fell asleep again,” he sounds almost hurt that you didn’t wake him up.

“Next time, I’ll wake you up,” you promise, pressing a soft little kiss to the inside of Brady’s bicep, brushing your nose over the soft skin. His arms tighten around you and you feel him kiss the back of your head.

“Just wanna be there for you,” he says, yawning a little. The yawn is contagious and your jaw cracks a little with the effort. Brady tucks one leg in between yours and you settle back, your head resting under his chin.

You must fall asleep at some point, because when a sharp, persistent cramp stabs at your abdomen, sending you curling forward in a tight little ball, the sun is a little lower in the sky and blinding you from where it peeks out under the partially opened blinds. Brady’s arms are still wrapped around you, keeping you mostly in place even as you’re pressing your hands to your lower stomach to try and alleviate the cramps. Whatever brief reprieve you had during your nap is gone now, the pain back with a vengeance, and you groan a little, waking Brady from his nap.

“Bad again?” He asks, voice rough with sleep. The arm around your chest drops flat down to the mattress and you roll a little onto your stomach, pressing your hand tightly against it. His other hand is caught in between your body and the mattress, tangled in the waistband of your shorts. He wiggles his fingers ineffectually.

“Mhm,” you mumble into the pillow your face is pressed against. “C’n you give me Advil?”

“Yeah, whatever you need,” Brady rolls onto his side and hangs his upper body off the side of the bed to scoop up the bottle of Advil off the floor. He pops the top off and starts shaking pills into his hand before stopping and squinting at you suspiciously. “Wait, how many have you had already?”

“Two?” The lie comes out as a question and Brady rolls his eyes at you, lips twisted in an amused expression.

He cups his hand and drops the pills back into the bottle. “You want to try that again?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and leaning back to set the bottle on your bedside table.

You roll back onto your side, facing Brady, and poke your lower lip out in a pout. “Okay, so maybe it was like five or six, but I think I know how many Advil I can handle, Brady,” you can’t help the sharp edge that colors your response. The cramps are a stabbing pain, radiating through your lower back and hips. “Just give me one at least.”

Brady reaches out and settles his hands on your hip to pull you closer. He huffs your name on an exasperated sigh. “No way, your liver’s going to give out if you take any more Advil. Come here and I’ll give you a massage, see if that helps,” he says already rubbing one large hand over your lower back. His thumb digs into a particularly sore spot and you let out an involuntary moan, gasping a little. The muscles in your back are so knotted and stiff that even Brady’s gentle touch is painful.

“I…s’not gonna help,” you whine, wiggling under his touch. Tears fill your eyes involuntarily. “Hurts too much.” You exhale a harsh breath and roll away from him, wincing when you sit up. You have to change out your pad and moving might help. Brady doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him watch you as you rush off to the bathroom, hunched a little when another sharp stab of pain grips your stomach. Fuck this. One-tenth of the pain of actual childbirth contractions? If that’s true, you’re making sure you’re completely knocked out when you have kids.

You don’t linger in the bathroom, cleaning up and getting yourself ready to crawl back under the covers, making a mental note to see your gynaecologist again and harass her about a possible endometriosis diagnosis. Because this shit is just not natural.

Brady’s propped up against the headboard, his phone in his hand. He looks up when you come back into the bedroom and you’re not entirely sure you love the look on his face. He holds up his phone, displaying the screen even though you can’t see the webpage, and says, “you know, orgasms are a natural way to get pain relief from cramps.”

You’re shaking your head before Brady’s even finished talking. “No, no way. I’m never able to get myself off properly anymore, I’ve been spoiled,” you shoot him a mock glare and his smile turns smug. You continue, cutting him off when he opens his mouth, “And! It’s gross, I’m gross, I’m not letting you anywhere near me. All the blood and…and…well, stuff.”

Hands on your hips, you stubbornly remain standing at the foot of the bed, shaking your head at Brady. He tosses his phone onto the mattress and gets on his knees, crawling down the bed towards you. “Sweetheart, a little blood doesn’t bother me,” he waves his hand in the general vicinity of his face, where a cut across his nose is still healing after he took an elbow to the face two games ago. The resulting nosebleed had been fairly epic, to hear him tell the story. “Plus, I want to help you. Let me help you feel better.” He sits back on his heels and wiggles the same hand in the air, fingers splayed. “You know I’m good with my hands.”

He is REALLY good with his hands. And your poor swollen cunt throbs a little, arousal building low in your stomach despite everything else happening in your body.

“I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart,” Brady promises, looking earnest as hell. “If it doesn’t work, we can go back to Advil overdoses.”

Reluctantly, and chewing at your lower lip, you nod. “Okay, yeah, I guess we can try it,” you sigh. Truthfully, you’ve never tried to orgasm yourself to pain relief with your periods. It always felt so messy and gross.

Brady nods and hops off the bed, “I’ll be right back.” He disappears out into the hallway, leaving you standing at the foot of the bed, wondering just what you’re getting yourself into. You can hear a closet opening and closing and then Brady’s back, holding an old, but still semi-plush towel in his hands. He pushes the comforter on your bed to the side and spreads the towel out. You look at it and wrinkle your nose. This is going to be such a mess. But another cramp sends your stomach into a spasm and you grit your teeth. Okay, whatever it takes to relieve some of this pain.

“Come on,” Brady’s hand rubs wide circles over your back. “I’ll prop up and you can lean against me, okay?”

You nod and Brady’s on the bed, in the same position he had been before - propped against the headboard and legs spread wide so there’s room for you. “I’m keeping these on,” you huff, snapping the waistband of your shorts before crawling onto the bed. “It’s already going to be a mess, I want to keep everything contained.”

Brady laughs, “we both know it’s not the first time I’ve made you come while you’re fully clothed.” He pauses, smirks. “And it won’t be the last time.”

Your face heats up again and you push gently at Brady’s shoulder, “shush, you. This is so embarrassing.” You gingerly settle in the vee of Brady’s legs, stiff and sore. He kisses the crown of your head and gently tugs on the back of your sweatshirt so you’ll relax back against his chest.

“Why are you embarrassed?” He asks, running his hands over your thighs and up your hips. Your stomach clenches a bit when he slowly works his hand up your shirt and brushes his knuckles against your abdomen. He knows not to go any higher than your waist, that your breasts are so sore you’ll cry if he touches them, but he touches everywhere else. “I told you, I’m thirty years old. I’m not grossed out by your period, sweetheart. I hate that you’re in so much pain and if I can do anything to help,” one hand slides down the front of your stomach and his fingertips dip beneath the waistband of your panties, “I’m going to.”

His fingers slide lower and you tense a little, knowing he’s going to hit up against the pad and even though he’s so chill about it, you’re not. “Relax, sweetheart,” Brady murmurs into your ear, kissing your cheek. “Let me take care of you.” You nod faintly, forcing yourself back against Brady’s broad chest, feeling the hardening ridge of his erection against your lower back. That helps, and when Brady’s fingers finally start to stroke your swollen, sensitive flesh, you shudder a little and then relax completely. His movements are maybe less firm than usual, his fingers slipping around a little more. He takes his time, finding your clit easily and circling it with the tip of his index finger.

“Oh, Brady,” you gasp his name, sliding down his chest a bit, opening your legs wider so he has better access. Your eyes flutter closed and Brady’s free hand rests on your left inner thigh, holding it open.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he mumbles, angling and reaching forward. His middle finger is at your entrance, carefully pressing inside. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You shake your head. Heat is building in your stomach, the throbbing between your legs overtaking the pain of your cramps. “Not enough,” you sigh, breaking off into a little gasp when Brady’s thumb presses a little more firmly over your clit. You blink rapidly, his fingers slipping too easily from where you need him. “I…more…s’fine. Put your fingers in me, Brady, please.”

Brady’s middle finger slides in, deeper and deeper until the knuckles of his other fingers are pressed against your folds. “Whatever you need,” Brady says, running his other hand over the outside of your thigh. Your legs start to tremble and he pumps his finger and out of you, sliding easier than he normally would with just your arousal to help. You try not to think about the kind of mess his hand is going to be covered in. He crooks the finger and taps against your inner wall and your stomach clenches.

“Oh!” You gasp, clenching around his finger. “More, Brady. I’m so…I need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, taking his free hand and brushing your hair off your face. He kisses your neck, sucking gently while he wiggles his ring finger up next to his middle finger inside your cunt. His thumb ghosts over your swollen clit and you bite back a moan, grinding down on his fingers. “Come on, sweetheart. You feeling good? Tell me what you need.”

“Faster,” you whine, your stomach tightening with every pump of Brady’s fingers. The sound his fingers are making as they work in and out of you is obscene even when it’s partially muffled by your shorts, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it feels so good. Brady wraps his free hand around your thigh, pulling it open slightly so he has more room to work. His hand is trapped by the constraints of fabric and can only move so fast. But the pace he’s pumping into you is perfect. His fingers slide deeper inside of you, pressing against your g-spot and your toes curl against the mattress, a low wail escaping from your lips. You clamp your mouth shut, face flushing hot with embarrassment at how loud you’re being.

Brady keeps pumping his fingers, murmuring in your ear, “go ahead, sweetheart. Be as loud as you want while you come for me. Scream, let me hear you.”

He flicks his thumb over your clit and you scream his name, your entire body going taut as he works his fingers harder, bringing you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds low in your stomach, a coil of heat and tension. His fingers curl and you finally let go, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that loosens your entire body. It’s not the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, but it’s strong enough, making your brain a little fuzzy and sending endorphins rushing through your veins. Your head drops back against Brady’s shoulder and he peppers your exposed neck with soft kisses. He mumbles terms of endearment against your skin, encouraging your orgasm with his words as his fingers continue to work you through the aftershocks.

You slump back against Brady’s chest and his free arm wraps around your waist. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” Your legs are a little shaky and you stretch out, inadvertently clenching around Brady’s fingers.

A satisfied hum leaves your throat even as Brady sucks in a breath from the feeling of being knuckles deep in your cunt. His cock stirs against your lower back and in the back of your mind, you feel a little bad for him, that he’s going to have to use his hand in the shower. But your cramps have settled to a minimal ache that’s completely bearable, so you tuck your head under Brady’s chin and mumble, “thank you, baby. That was perfect.”

“Happy to be your personal orgasm provider,” Brady chuckles, pulling his hand from the waistband of your shorts. You wince at the blood that streaks his skin, reddish-brown and dripping down to his wrist. Behind you, Brady shrugs a little and wipes his hand on the towel under your bodies. He kisses the side of your head. “Sweetheart, gotta clean up for a minute. I’m gonna go clean off and uh, take care of something.”

The ‘something’ is pressing insistently against your lower back and you manage a soft hum of empathy as you lean forward so Brady can slide off the bed. He snatches the towel out from under you in one smooth move, balling it up in his hands. “Mhm, clean your hand and come back, I’ll take care of you,” you offer sleepily. The orgasm has your head fuzzy and your entire body relaxed.

Brady kisses your forehead and you slump against the pillows. “Take a nap,” he grins against your skin. “I’ve got this.”

You hum again, wriggling against the warm sheets. Brady chuckles lowly and you hear him pad off into the bathroom. The shower turns on and you can imagine Brady stripping down to nothing, his cock jutting out proudly, stepping under the spray and gripping himself. Your clit gives a faint throb at the mental image - honestly, it could be a memory with how often you’ve had sex with Brady in that shower - and you press your thighs together. Now that your cramps have faded away and the initial embarrassment and awkwardness of sex on your period is cleared from your mind courtesy of Brady’s fingers, you’re feeling horny. Mingled with the sleepy haze, you can’t really do too much about it except press your thighs tighter together and listen to Brady’s grunts and moans that the running water can’t cover up. You press your face into the pillow, wiggling and clenching around nothing, biting down hard on your lower lip when Brady’s strangled ‘fuck!’ echoes from the bathroom a few moments later.

The water shuts off and you’re feeling more awake, the fuzz in your brain from the orgasm fading away. You can hear Brady moving around in the bathroom and he emerges a few minutes later in a cloud of shampoo and Dove soap scented steam. He’s back in his grey sweats and black t-shirt, with the towels balled up under his arm. His hair is damp, darker than usual from the water, and slicked off his face, which is tinged pink from the hot water. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, all of your blood pooling between your legs.

“Thought you were gonna nap?” He says, eyes twinkling.

You manage to shake your head. “Not sleepy,” you say, rolling onto your side.

Brady’s grin is teasing as he comes to stand at the side of the bed. “Guess I didn’t do my job well enough,” he jokes, leaning one knee down on the mattress, making it dip under his weight. His warm, broad palm comes to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping over your cheekbone. “Let me throw on a load of laundry and order some dinner for later, then I’ll come back and cuddle, okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, leaning into his touch. You lick your lower lip and Brady tracks the movement, but says nothing. He nudges your cheek with the knuckle of his index finger and heads out of the bedroom. You watch him leave, eyes locked onto his stupidly firm ass. With a frustrated exhale, you slump further back into the pillows, surrounded by Brady’s scent. You yawn, surprising yourself with how quickly your energy levels shifted the second Brady was out of the room. You let your eyelids flutter shut, figuring you’ll just get in a quick little nap before jumping your boyfriend.

By the time Brady slips back into bed, you’re more than halfway to sleep, eyes closed and limbs loose. He settles himself on his side of the bed and you gravitate towards him naturally. “Warm,” you mumble, tucking your head under his chin and pressing the tip of your nose against the hollow of his throat. Brady’s arms tighten around you, the best kind of weighted blanket.

“Ordered Chinese for later,” he tells you quietly. “With extra fortune cookies.”

“My hero,” you grin sleepily against his skin. He’s really so warm, like a personal radiator, and you sling your leg over his hip, notching your core against his groin without really comprehending it. The stretch feels good on your sore hip and lower back muscles and Brady slots one leg over yours, his muscled thigh pressing gently against your cunt. He can feel the warmth of you through the leg of his sweats and his cock twitches behind the fabric.

“Anything for my girl,” he says, stroking your hair and back, lulling you right to sleep in the warm cocoon of his embrace.

It’s not a very long nap, less than half an hour, but you wake up feeling semi-refreshed. Your cramps are starting to increase in intensity again and you’ve shifted while you slept so that you’re pressed flush against Brady’s half-hard cock, leg wrapped snugly around his hip. His thigh is pushed against your cunt, making it throb. He smells so fucking good and one of his hands is resting low on the curve of your ass. You wiggle experimentally and Brady laughs above you, his chest vibrating.

“Was wondering how long you were gonna sleep,” he says, bringing his hand over your hip to run against the outside of your thigh. “You’ve been making these little noises,” he continues and he sounds half tortured. “Little sighs and grunts. Feeling okay?”

You can’t think, not with his thigh in between your legs, his cock nudging against you. Your stomach flips, not with the cramps though, and you grind yourself over his thigh. Brady’s hand moves to grip your hip, helping guide you over his thigh. He laughs a little, “guess I have my answer. You want more than this, sweetheart, or you just want to use me?”

“I don’t know,” you tuck your chin to your chest, your forehead pressing into the hard edge of his collarbone. Your hips move and it feels good but it’s not enough, not with the extra layer of your pad between you. You can’t get enough friction and you whine low in your throat. “Brady, need you, please, I don’t…” you babble, trying to figure out what you need even as heat builds low in your stomach. The hand that isn’t on your hip falls to your ass and kneads gently, his fingers digging into your skin.

Brady drops a kiss to the crown of your head and mumbles, “okay, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I’ve got you.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You plant your palms flat on his chest and grind brazenly against his cock, sighing happily at the increased pressure. His hands grip at your hips and he helps you grind down harder, “this good for you, sweetheart? You going to get off like this?”

You shake your head against his chest - no, this isn’t enough for you. It feels good and the tension is building in your stomach, a gush of arousal and, likely, blood flooding between your legs. It’s like the feeling of sneezing on your period, but worse and you almost hate it. “Can I - can,” you stumble over the request, knowing that it’s gross, starting to feel embarrassed again. “Ugh,” you frown into his shirt, rolling your hips against his like a teenager, “I need more, Brady.”

He nods seriously and lifts you gently off of him, setting you on the mattress. When you whine at the loss of contact and grab at his shirt, he clicks his tongue and says, “trust me, I’m going to give you everything you want. Just gotta get another towel, okay?” He untangles your fingers from his shirt and kisses your fingertips before practically hopping out of bed and beelining for the linen closet. He’s back before you can process, laying out the towel and pulling you to the edge of the bed. Brady tugs at the waist of your shorts, “these are coming off and then you’re gonna tell me how you want it. You want me on top or is that going to be too much?”

His voice is soft with concern for your pleasure and a shiver works its way down your spine. You wiggle your hips and reach for the waistband of Brady’s sweats, curling your fingers beneath the fabric. His cock tents the front of the sweats, a perfect imprint in the fabric for you to stare at. Brady’s big and he knows it, knows that when he gets going it’s a pleasure-pain sort of stretch. When you ride him it’s a little easier to control the pace and how deep he can hit. A cramp ripples through your lower stomach and back and you wince, making a decision.

“Wanna be on top,” you chew at your lower lip, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Brady’s sweats and brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

“Whatever you need, baby,” he grins, certainly not going to object to having you ride him. He hisses when your fingertips graze his cock, twitching under your touch. He pulls you to your feet and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug, the pressure easing some of the soreness in your body, before ducking his head to capture your lips with his. You melt into his arms, licking at his lower lip until he opens his mouth for you. Liquid heat rushes through your body, warmth pooling low in your stomach. Brady deepens the kiss and moves a hand up to tangle in your hair. He tugs gently, manoeuvring your head to the side so he can change the angle of the kiss.

You sigh into his mouth and Brady turns so he can sit down on the bed after he breaks the kiss. “Pants off, sweetheart,” he grins, scooting back so he’s sitting on the towel, his back against the headboard. He tosses all the pillows to the other side of the bed so they can stay clean.

Your heart is still pounding in your chest from the kiss and you only hesitate briefly before you shimmy your shorts down your legs, kicking them off your ankles and off to the side. “You next,” you grin, another flood of arousal pooling between your legs when Brady gives you that cocky smirk you love so much. He pulls his shirt off over his head, discarding it to the floor and messing up his hair. A few strands fall over his forehead and he makes no move to brush them to the side. The fading sunlight glints against the greys and another pulse of desire throbs through you.

His hands fall to his crotch and he grabs at himself through the grey fabric, emphasising just how big and hard he is. With a groan, Brady grinds his heel over the base of his cock through the fabric, a little damp spot from his pre-cum turning it a darker grey. He makes a show of it, pulling the waistband of his sweats down one side of his hip and then the other, the red, leaking tip of his cock appearing above the elastic. You lick your lips again and Brady lifts his hips off the mattress so he can pull his sweats down further, tucking the band under his balls and letting his cock spring free. He’s thick and hard and curves towards his stomach. His balls are full and heavy looking, resting on the band of his sweats and it’s stupidly erotic, the fact that he’s keeping his pants on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping a few times to get himself as hard as possible, “sit on it and I’ll make you feel good.”

Even as arousal floods between your legs, you hesitate, thinking of the mix of blood there as well. “You’re sure?” You ask, twisting your fingers in the sleeves of your sweatshirt. Brady’s hand is still wrapped around his cock and you can barely focus on anything other than the pre-cum leaking from the red, angry looking tip. Your clit gives a painful little throb in time with a twinge of a cramp in your lower stomach. Your body knows how it feels to have that broad head of him push past your folds and it’s reacting.

Brady leans forward, his hand falling away to rest on the mattress, “hey, if you don’t want to, I’m good. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with, sweetheart.” He smiles, eyes crinkling up at the corner, “I’ll make myself presentable and we can watch TV or something.” His cock bobs in his lap, bumping up against his stomach and to his credit, Brady barely winces at the sensation against his sensitive tip.

His willingness to go along with your mood changes only makes you want him more, so before you can second (or third) guess yourself, you rush into the bathroom to wiggle out of your panties and get rid of the pad, hurrying back into the bedroom with your thighs clenched together so you don’t get anything on the carpet. Brady’s lips are pressed together to suppress a little laughter at the way you’re moving and you roll your eyes at him. “Laughing at me isn’t very nice, Mr. Skjei,” you huff with faux annoyance.

Brady opens his arms and cocks an eyebrow, “I would never laugh at you.” His gaze drops between your legs and you flush hot.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble. “I’m not wearing pants.”

“That’s exactly why I’m looking at you,” Brady teases in a low voice. He pauses and mutters, “oh fuck,” before leaning to his side, reaching for the drawer on his bedside table. “Should’ve done this while you were in the bathroom,” he mumbles, withdrawing a condom.

“It’s like you’ve never done this before,” you tease with a giggle, watching Brady’s movements like a hawk. His fingers deftly tear into the foil and wrap around his cock again so he can roll the condom over his length. He pumps himself a few more times and it seems like his cock swells in front of your eyes, filling the latex obscenely. You press your thighs together tighter, throbbing and ready to sit on him.

He mock glares at you, “making fun of the man who’s planning on giving you multiple orgasms to help your cramps is a low move, sweetheart.” He crooks his fingers at you. “Now come here so we can get to work on that pain relief.”

Your stomach tightens and you shuffle over to the bed, awkwardly trying to get up onto the mattress without dripping everywhere. “Brady…” you can’t help the little whine that escapes your lips and he takes pity on you, leaning onto one hip and wrapping his hands around your waist to haul you up on the bed. You kneel at his side and throw your leg over his lap, straddling him with your back to him. As soon as you open your legs, it feels like a tidal wave of liquid, even though you know that’s not how it works. At worst, a few drops of blood and arousal make their way down your inner thighs and you know they’ll be stopped by the fabric of Brady’s sweats. Even still, you feel impossibly exposed.

“What are you doing?” Brady asks, smoothing one hand down over your ass cheek and giving it a quick squeeze. His other hand is warm on your outer thigh. “I don’t get to see that gorgeous face?”

“No,” you huff, hovering over him with your knees planted on the mattress on either side of his thighs. “I don’t want you that deep, it’s going to hurt.”

“Okay,” Brady kisses behind your ear, “whatever you need, sweetheart.” He grips the base of his cock in one hand and rests the other hand on the curve of your hip. “Ready?”

You nod, chewing at the inside of your cheek, your inner thighs already trembling. Brady lines himself up at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against you. You sink down on him with a sigh, the stretch of him filling you forcing all the air from your lungs. Behind you, Brady grunts at the feeling of you sinking down on his cock, his grip on your hip tightening. His hand pulls away from his cock and he gets a solid grip on your hips, making sure you don’t sit on him too fast, giving you time to adjust. Inch by inch, you take him, bracing your hands on his thighs in front of you.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Brady rasps an encouragement in your ears, holding your hips like his life depends on it. “That’s it, let me fill you up.”

It’s so easy to have him slide into you, easier than usual due to the extra slickness from your period. You can feel the mix of your blood and arousal drip down your thighs, surrounding his cock.

You babble his name, gasping when you sink down onto the final few inches of him, your ass making contact with his lap. He’s fully sheathed inside of you, thick and hard, still so deep despite the position that you imagine you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

Brady’s still underneath you, the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your thighs as he lets you get adjusted. You lean back against his chest carefully, the underside of his cock rubbing pleasantly against your swollen clit. A soft whine works its way up your throat and Brady’s hands trail from your hips down to the inside of your thighs, pulling gently to open you up further. “No, no,” you mumble, “too wide. Too much.” You squirm on his lap, trying to catch your breath from just the sensation of Brady keeping you full.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he kisses your neck, gently rolling his hips up into yours, making you gasp. Your nipples tighten into painfully hard points, desperate for Brady’s hands. “Tell me what you need.”

You grind down on Brady’s cock instead of responding, slowly riding him to build up the coil of pleasure in your lower stomach. You clench around him and Brady grunts into your hair again, fingers flexing around your thighs. “Fingers, Brady, I need…” you mumble, head thrown back to rest on his shoulder. “More, need more friction.”

The slow glide of his cock in and out of your cunt, against your clit, is pleasurable, but not nearly enough. Brady’s fingers are on your clit in the next second, pinching gently, and you gasp out his name, arching your back and forcing his cock deeper into your cunt. “Yes, yes, there. More…please, B-brady!”

“So fucking wet, baby,” he murmurs, one hand on your hip to help you ride him. His fingers work deftly over your swollen clit, sliding around easily. He bends one knee, planting his foot on the mattress and driving his cock even deeper.

You yelp, leaning forward to brace yourself, fisting the material of his sweats. “Stop, too deep, too much,” you whine, pushing at his knee so he’ll flatten his leg again. He compromises, straightening his leg a bit, but still keeping it partially bent. You breathe heavily, panting as you ride Brady’s cock. Pleasure builds in your lower stomach, hot and tight, growing as Brady’s fingers keep sliding over your clit, his cock thick in your cunt. He glides his hand over your back, down over your ass cheek, kneading your flesh.

“Come on, baby,” he encourages you in a strangled voice. “Use my cock. Know you can do it.”

You grab Brady’s wrist, holding his fingers against your clit, pressing down for friction and Brady takes the hint, rolling your swollen nub between his fingers, keeping his hand in place between your legs. Still gripping his wrist, feeling his muscles and tendons move under your fingers, you bounce on his cock. The sound is obscenely wet, filling the bedroom, louder than your breathless little moans and whimpers. Brady’s hand is tight on your hip, guiding you up and down on his cock while he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“Brady, please, faster….I need….” you break off, chanting his name when he bucks his hips up into yours, meeting you thrust for thrust. His cock swells inside of you, painfully thick, and you reach down with your free hand to stroke at his balls, skimming your nails over the sensitive skin. Brady moans against your neck and his hand moves from your hip, wrapping his forearm around your lower stomach, adding more pressure and guiding you to lean forward slightly. Your nipples brush painfully against the fabric of your sweatshirt and you yelp, clenching involuntarily around Brady’s cock.

He thrusts up into you, thumb planted firmly on your clit and tears roll down your cheeks from the simulation, grinding down on Brady’s pelvis. You let go of his wrist and brace yourself on his thighs again, leaning forward and bouncing on him, the underside of his cock sliding against your clit. That, combined with Brady’s fingers, sends you over the edge, black spots dancing in front of your vision as your orgasm rips through your body. You chant Brady’s name, barely coherent while you rock on him, his cock hitting deep. Brady’s palm presses flat against your lower stomach and you let go, feeling your body gush around his cock.

“So good, sweetheart,” Brady murmurs, sounding dazed. “Keep riding, honey, take what you need.”

You cry out when he thrusts up into you, overwhelmed by sensation, but don’t stop circling your hips over his. Your brain is melted into a puddle of sensation, all of your nerve endings on fire as you clench around him again and Brady’s abdomen tenses. He hauls you flush against his chest when he finishes, shouting your name and filling the condom with cum. He reaches down and grasps the base of his cock, pumping himself into you and filling the condom faster. The warmth of it is different than when you decide to forgo the condom, but you still hum happily in Brady’s arms, stretched wide over his cock, your thighs trembling on either side of his lap.

“Brady…” you mumble his name, turning your head to bury your face in his neck while he fills the condom. Your hands grasp at his forearm wrapped around your waist and he peppers your face with soft kisses, grunting into your mouth when he’s wrung dry.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mutters against the corner of your mouth. “Got carried away at the end,” he brushes his knuckles against your sensitive clit and you shiver in his arms. “So fucking hot and wet.”

“S’okay,” you slur your words, your body coming down from the orgasm and leaving you limp against Brady’s chest. “I liked it. Felt good - feels good,” you amend, clenching absently around Brady’s softening cock. Every thought and sensation other than being filled up by Brady is gone from your head. He laughs against your skin and you can feel him wipe his hand off on the towel under his ass.

Your thighs and ass feel wet, sitting in a mixture of blood, your arousal, and Brady’s cum, and you wrinkle your nose a little, shifting on his lap. You can’t help but look down at Brady’s lap and you regret it almost immediately. His lap is soaked in your combined fluids, the grey of his sweats stained red. His cum is leaking out of the condom, out of your cunt, and dripping down his balls to pool on the towel. “Oh, Brady!” You yelp, less drowsy now, trying to scramble off of his lap. “Your sweats, the towel!”

Brady adjusts his grip on you so you can’t go very far. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve never liked these sweats anyway,” he jokes, gently manhandling you so he can slide out of your cunt and pull off the condom. He ties it off efficiently and makes no comment about the mess of his hands and lap.

“Well I liked them,” you pout, cheeks heating up for a different reason. “This was such a mess.”

“Are your cramps gone?” Brady asks, carefully swinging his legs to the side so he can stand up. You’re still pressed close to his chest, on your feet too now, thighs pressed together to prevent anything getting on the floor. The towel on the bed looks like a crime scene. Brady lets go of you briefly so he can tug his sweats up to rest on his hips, but then his hand is on your hip again, nudging you towards the bathroom.

“Yes,” you reply, toddling on shaky legs.

“Then it was worth it,” he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Get in the shower, I’ll clean up and join you.”

He tosses the condom in the wastebasket and wipes his hand on his thigh - the sweats are clearly a lost cause - before he reaches out and swiftly pulls your sweatshirt over your head. You shiver at the cold air on your sensitive nipples and Brady grins at you, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. You wrinkle your nose, but nod, bracing yourself for Brady’s tongue to flick gently over one nipple. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he presses a soft kiss to the swell of your breast. “You know I feel bad not paying attention to your entire gorgeous body.”

Despite the sensitivity, both nipples tighten just from Brady looking at them and you resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest. He’s seen everything, there’s no point in being embarrassed. You reach behind you and turn the shower on, making sure the knob is on a high temperature. “Don’t even bother trying to save the towel,” you sigh, “just toss it.”

“That was the plan,” Brady winks, kissing your forehead before disappearing from the bathroom. He leaves the door open behind him and once you step into the shower - groaning in pleasure when the scalding hot water hits your sore muscles - you can see him in the mirror, wadding up the towel and stripping the sheets from the bed. You really hope the sheets aren’t ruined since they’re beyond comfortable.

“Just swapping them for fresh ones,” Brady calls out to you, apparently a mind reader now.

You smile to yourself and focus on scrubbing shampoo into your hair, the eucalyptus scented steam relaxing your entire body. By the time you’re rinsing and repeating, Brady’s stepping into the shower behind you, sliding warm broad hands over your waist. He leans in and brushes his nose against your ear, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin at the hinge of your jaw.

“Hi,” you giggle, wiggling a little in his grip. Your legs are shaky.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, massaging at your lower stomach. You lean into his touch, still trying to work shampoo into your hair.

“I always smell like this,” you reply, ducking your head under the spray and letting the suds wash down your body. Brady’s fingers trail along with the soap, drawing lazy patterns against your wet skin. You shiver under his touch, unsurprised when the familiar tingle of pleasure starts at the base of your spine, in between your legs.

Brady notices the subtle move of your thighs and he lets his fingers trace the crease of your thigh, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Smell like mine,” he murmurs. “My girl.” His fingers move to the left, mere inches, and tease at your entrance. The tip of his middle finger circles your clit, still swollen and sensitive and you can’t believe you’re about to let him give you a third orgasm.

“Brady,” you gasp his name a little, closing your eyes against the sensation. Your hips cant towards his fingers, chasing his touch.

“Sweetheart,” Brady groans against your neck, his cock twitching against the back of your thigh. “Gotta let me feel you. No mess in the shower.”

He continues to slowly, gently circle your clit, making your brain fuzzy again and your knees week. You press a palm against the shower wall to hold you up, but there’s no chance of falling, not with Brady’s arms wrapped securely around you. You whine when Brady’s finger slips inside your cunt, curling gently.

“Feels good?” He asks, massaging at your lower stomach with his other hand. You nod against his shoulder. “Good,” he continues, “just want you to feel good.”

Brady’s usually chatty during sex, but this feels different, his words alternating between concern and filth, his fingers working their way over your clit. You can feel yourself dripping for him, slick and hot. “Brady, Brady… p-please,” you hiccup the words when he grinds his hardening cock against the split of your asscheeks. “Give me more.”

You plant both of your hands on the wall and widen your stance, feeling Brady line himself up at your entrance. The broad head of his cock slides through your folds, entering your cunt with an easy roll of Brady’s hips. You moan his name, still stretched out from earlier, so the feel of him inside of you is just pleasure. He kisses a hot trail over your shoulders, sucking gently at your pulse point, laughing when he can feel your heart skip a beat at the feeling of his fingers pressing against your clit.

“Feels so good,” he groans, thrusting into you, more gently than you’d expect. The drag of his cock against your inner walls has you clenching around him, arching your back, pressing your ass firmly against his pelvis. One of his hands holds your hip in place while he thrusts and the other snakes down your stomach to play with your clit. Brady’s fingers bump up against his own cock and he grunts, choking off the noise. You can feel his cock twitch from the contact.

Honestly, if you had known that being on your period would make the both of you this horny, you might’ve given in to period sex months ago.

Brady drives his cock into you deeper, punching air from your lungs in a sharp gasp. Your head falls forward, chin to your chest, and you watch with hazy vision as Brady’s cock splits you open. Water drips down your face, into your open mouth, nearly drowning you until you spit a little, angling your face away from the stream.

You’d barely come down from your last orgasm when Brady shuffled you into the shower, so it’s easier for him to build up this one. Pleasure works it’s way through your body, your clit throbbing under Brady’s touch, and before you know it, before you can really focus on it, he’s bullying that third orgasm from your body. Fingers and cock working together to send you over the edge. “Come on, sweetheart,” Brady talks you through the orgasm. “Go ahead, scream, cum on my cock.”

You shriek his name, fingers scrambling on the wet tile for purchase as Brady rocks his hips up into yours, rolling your clit between his thumb and index finger relentlessly. Nonsense words spill from your lips while Brady keeps up his pace and it’s only a few more heartbeats before he’s tightening his arm around your waist, his stomach muscles pulling taut, and spilling inside of you. He groans and drops his forehead to your shoulder, his hair flopping forward and brushing your skin. Brady’s fingers only stutter in their movements when he jerks to a finish inside of you and by then it’s too overwhelming so you reach down to push his hand away, whining that it hurts.

“Sorry, sorry,” Brady mumbles against your shoulder, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss there. He pulls his hips back a little, his softening cock slipping from your cunt and releasing a flood of his hot cum down your inner thighs. You shiver at the sensation, rubbing your thighs together a little and looking down to see the drips of blood and cum wash off your legs and down the drain. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head, dizzy and exhausted. Brady’s palms skim up your stomach and sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and he turns you so he can kiss you on the mouth. You melt into his touch, warm and pliable for him. Brady kisses the corner of your mouth again, a soft little peck, before he says, “okay, let’s get you cleaned up for real this time.”

A mumbled noise of agreement leaves your body and Brady keeps you propped up with one thick arm around your waist while he gently soaps you up and helps you rinse off. He gives his own body a quick scrub, paying extra attention below the belt, giving you a little smirk when you watch him clean himself up. You lean against the shower wall on shaky legs, letting the hot water keep you warm. You watch him shower, muscles bunching under his skin, and blurt out, “god, I love you.”

Brady rakes his hand through wet hair, slicking it off his face, and looks at you with warm brown eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he grins. He leans forward and brushes his lips over your forehead before turning the water off and reaching an arm out of the shower to grab one of the big fluffy towels that wait for you. He wraps you up, rubbing his hands over your arms to warm you, and once he’s confident that you’re grasping the towel around your body, he gets a second towel to wrap around his waist. From there, you let yourself be taken care of - Brady leaves you alone in the bathroom to grab you a pair of panties, handing them to you with a knowing smirk, before leaving again so you can get yourself settled with a pad. He’s dressed in a pair of boxers and a worn out University of Minnesota t-shirt when you eventually pad into the bedroom after lotioning up your entire body.

“Sweats or shorts,” Brady holds up both items of clothing and you reach for the pair of his joggers that he offers, wanting to be bundled up and cozy even though it’s not that cold out. You step into the sweats while Brady attempts to pull one of his shirts over your head, only for you to get tangled up in the fabric, blinded by the cotton, and tip forward with a little squeak of surprise. Brady grabs you before you can fall onto the bed, hands hot against the bare skin of your waist. “Ah, shit! Sorry, sweetheart,” his voice is muffled from the fabric around your head and you wiggle from his grip, tugging the shirt down so you can breathe again.

“You already killed me with orgasms,” you huff on a laugh. “No need to actually try and kill me.”

Brady laughs and lifts his hands in the universal sign for surrender. “I’ll let you handle getting dressed,” he chuckles. “Undressing you is my specialty anyway.”

You snort a laugh, managing to get yourself dressed and comfy, the sleeves of Brady’s shirt hanging over your hands. “No more undressing tonight,” you sigh, twisting your wet hair into a loose knot on top of your head before crawling into bed. “I’m tapped out, done, ready for a pile of lo mein the size of my head and a solid eight hours.” You fluff up your pillows and draw the comforter into a little nest shape around your body, curling up like a cat and yawning so wide your jaw cracks.

“Lo mein, I can promise since the delivery should be here any minute,” Brady replies, looking at you with a soft smile on his face. “Eight hours of sleep? Well, if three orgasms doesn’t wear you out enough, I’ll go for four tomorrow.”

You shoot him a sly little smile, even as your eyelids fall slowly closed. “four orgasms? Might have to start complaining of cramps all month long.”

Brady’s laughter fades out as he heads downstairs to check if your food’s been delivered. You snuggle into your little nest of blankets, feeling warm and impossibly relaxed, like all the stress and tension’s been completely removed from your body. You’re pleasantly sore between the legs and you stretch out a little, impatient for Brady to return so you can eat and cuddle up against him.

The mouth-watering smell of Chinese food precedes Brady’s return and you pop up into a sitting position like a cartoon animal, wide awake. Your stomach growls a little too. Brady laughs loudly at the expression on your face. He’s got two white cartons in his hands, a bottle of Gatorade under one arm, a wad of paper towel tucked in the crease of his elbow, and two pairs of chopsticks stuck into the top of one of the cartons. “You’re wide awake now, huh?” He asks, handing over one of the cartons and snatching his hand back like he’s afraid you’ll chew it off. He settles down next to you with his own carton, placing the Gatorade and napkins down on his bedside table.

“I am suffering, Brady,” you inform him primly, shoving a wad of noodles into your mouth and chewing happily.

“Poor thing,” your boyfriend pouts at you, taking a bite of his orange chicken. “And here I thought I helped you so much.”

You swing your legs over to drape over Brady’s thigh and lean in to kiss his lower lip. “Oh, you helped very much,” you grin against his mouth. “You’ve been such a big help.”

Brady laughs into your mouth. “See, now I know you’re teasing me, sweetheart. I might not be so generous with my help next time.”

You fake a gasp, “you wouldn’t!”

“Nah, you’re right, I wouldn’t,” Brady leans in to whisper against your ear, “not when I know how needy you are on your period. Or how easy it was to slide into that sweet, wet cunt.”

Lo mein noodles slip off the end of your chopsticks and your entire body flushes with heat. “Brady…” his name leaves your mouth on a shaky exhale and he laughs, rests his hand on the inside of your knee, and leans back against the headboard. His thumb draws lazy circles on the inside of your knee and you shiver a little.

“I’m here for your free use, sweetheart,” he offers, toasting you with the carton of chicken and rice. “Just say the word.”

You kick lightly at the outside of his thigh with your heel, still flustered. “Insatiable,” you murmur, unable to deny the flutter of interest in your lower stomach at Brady’s words.

“You love it,” Brady counters, feeding you a piece of orange chicken. You hum, not about to lie to him, and lean forward to get closer to the heat Brady’s radiating off his body. You’re both quiet for a bit while you eat, trading bites off each other’s chopsticks. You sip at your mostly warm raspberry Arizona, starting to feel sleepy again from the food and the warmth off Brady’s body. You don’t even realize that your head is drooping forward to rest against Brady’s bicep until he gently takes the mostly empty carton from your hands and sets it on the bedside table.

“Hey, time to sleep a little,” he says softly, lifting your legs off his lap and straightening them out so your entire body shifts.

You hum, eyes shut, and press your face into your pillow, scooting around and getting comfortable. Brady pulls the comforter over your chest, making sure your back is covered and you’re cocooned in the warmth. You reach out a hand from the covers and grab Brady’s wrist, wiggling your fingers until he laces his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your fingertips. “I’m going to clean up, get some stuff ready for tomorrow, and I’ll be back,” he says against your fingers.

“Best Brady ever,” you mumble through a yawn, hearing his chuckle.

He strokes a piece of hair off your forehead and you’re passed out before he can let go of your hand and climb out of bed.

Cuddled under the covers, you don’t quite manage an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep, but when you wake up in the middle of the night with Brady’s entire body wrapped around yours, legs tangled together, heartbeat thumping steadily under your cheek, you don’t really mind.

#brady skjei #brady skjei x reader #brady skjei x you #brady skjei fic #brady skjei imagine

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ynscrazylife · 2 years

Text

Clinging Onto You

Request: “HIII idk if your taking requests rn but I thought id put in an idea for a peter parker x stark!daughter fic where theyre in a secret relationship and they get exposed somehow? im thinking kinda angsty like he walks in to the compound all bloody or something AHH IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT but thats pretty much it but yeah! i love your stuff btw!!”

Summary: The Avengers unexpectedly find out that Tony’s daughter Y/N and Peter are dating.

Authors Note: Set during No Way Home, in an AU that everyone survived Endgame.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Peter felt his heart practically lurch out of his body when saw Y/N falling. In a snap, he forgot about his mission, he forgot about the other Peters, he forgot about everything. The only thing concerning him was his girlfriend’s safety. It was so high up his priority list that it consumed him, and to see her safety be threatened lit a fuel he didn’t know he had.

He didn’t think, or hear, or speak when he ran and leapt, diving after her with his arm outstretched. Faster, he thought to himself, as the image of complete terror overwhelming Y/N was burned into his mind, her bone-shattering scream sure to leave his ears ringing for days.

The tips of their fingers were inches away, he was nearly there, just about to lock his tight grip on her shaky hand when bam—the wind was knocked out of him as he was thrown off to the side, too far away from Y/N for his liking.

Recovering quickly, Peter’s spider sense directed his fingers to scrape at and clutch the edge of the construction site. Using all his upper body strength, he pulled himself up and scrambled across. His eyes were wide as a bug’s as he searched the abyss of construction for his falling girlfriend, about to send a thwip of webs in her direction when he didn’t see her.

He panted. Had she fallen? Was she—?

From his position, Peter didn’t spot that the other Peter had caught Y/N with tears in his eyes about the girl he wish he could’ve caught. On the tip of a spiral of hatred and despair, his saving grace was found when Peter 3’s voice came over their shared comm system.

“Peter, Peter 1, I caught Y/N. She’s okay, just a little shaken up.”

After the initial shock were off, Peter’s influx of grief was replaced with waves of relief. His ability to breathe became easier and he felt his muscles lose their tension. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he croaked in response.

Later on, when Peter saw the back of Green Goblin standing mere feet away from him, a desire for vengeance flashed through his eyes. He narrowed in on his target and walked towards him, arms outstretched to do something—anything—when he was stopped.

“Eh eh eh, don’t do anything too quickly,” his sneaky, drawling voice came.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, watching as the man slowly turned around. Then, his eyes widened, seeing the person who was with the villain. None other than the love of his life, his girlfriend Y/N, the daughter of one of the most famous heroes ever. Green Goblin had an arm around her, tightly holding her back. Fear was in her eyes as she struggled in vain.

“Let her go, Goblin,” Peter ordered in a low voice, slowing down his movements. In the back of his mind, he wondered where the other Peters were. This was very inconvenient.

He had the nerve to laugh a sick laugh and it made Peter’s blood boil with anger. “I said, let her go!” He repeated, raising his voice to yell.

Green Goblin ignored this and took a step forward, dragging Y/N along with him. “I observed your reaction when she fell, Parker. Quite distraught you were when you didn’t catch her, hmm? I’ll let her go . . . when you admit, in front of the cameras, who the daughter of Stark is to you and why you hid her from the public like your identity!” He said.

For the first time, Peter’s eyes flickered up and he noticed the cameras circling the air above them from helicopters. All news stations, most likely, broadcasting the footage to the entire globe. And, if the entire globe was seeing it, that meant the Avengers were watching, too.

(And, back at the Avengers tower, the team was watching in half-shock, half-fear. They had known that this was a fight Peter needed to do by himself, so they refrained from suiting up, but the involvement of Y/N changed it at all.)

His eyes flickered over to Y/N anxiously, who was still determined and not giving up in her fight for freedom. He couldn’t trust that Green Goblin would stay true to his word. “Why do you want me to say this?” Peter questioned.

Green Goblin pursed his lips. “Oh, Peter, I thought you were smarter than this,” he began condescendingly. “Don’t you know that my goal is to cause you as much pain as possible? You’re hiding something. You’re hiding her. And I will force it out of you, one way or another.”

When Peter hesitated, still not trusting him, Green Goblin took it a step forward. Reaching into a pocket, the young hero only saw a flash of what it was in his hand before he injected it into Y/N’s neck. Gasping, Y/N began to fight even harder, although it didn’t do anything.

“This, son, is a poison I developed. It’s quick-acting. She gets the antidote when you tell me what I want to know,” the villain threatened.

Peter’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, prepared to spill it all, when he caught sight of the other Peters stealthily approaching from behind Green Goblin. Within a split second, they attacked. Peter 3 pulled the man back with his webs while Peter 2 administered the cure.

At the sudden loss of his grip on her, Y/N stumbled forward. Peter leapt to catch her, wrapping his arms wound her protectively and pulling her close. “The antidote!” He yelled to Peter 2. “It’s somewhere in his pocket!”

Peter 2 jumped into action, reaching into Green Goblin’s pocket. When he grabbed the antidote, he tossed it to Peter. Peter caught it and injected into Y/N. For a split second, her eyes widened, but she soon relaxed. “Thank you,” she murmured into her boyfriend’s shoulder.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the comfort that Y/N just being safe was bringing to him. He only opened his eyes when he felt the wind hit his face, blinking and making out the Avengers’ Quinjet arriving before all the team members stepped out. While the other Peters returned to their own universes, Tony led the team towards the embracing teenagers.

“Y/N, Peter, are you guys alright?” He asked worthily, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

Turning around, Y/N gladly fell into her father’s arms. Meanwhile, Peter blinked at the sudden loss of her touch. It felt like he was missing something. “I’m—I’m fine. Just cuts and bruises. But Y/N—” he began to say, as the rest of the Avengers crowded around them.

Y/N shook her head, melting back into the safety next that was her boyfriend, leaning against him. “I feel—I feel . . . I’m fine, okay? Don’t worry about me,” she mumbled into Peter’s shoulder. No one was convinced.

Before Tony could start an argument with his daughter out of concern, Natasha stepped in. “Let’s get you guys on the Quinjet. Bruce will have to check you both over just in case,” she directed softly, leading them onto the Quinjet.

Peter and Y/N stayed to the back, away from everyone else. Although Tony had wanted to join his daughter, Steve had steered him away, whispering about how they needed some space with each other to process everything. On the Quinjet, everyone took their seats. Normally Natasha and Clint would pilot, but this time they put it on autopilot. Peter and Y/N settled into seats next to each other, with Y/N wrapping both arms around one of Peter’s.

Bruce was able to clean and disinfect Peter’s cuts, but then he had to switch to Y/N. “I want to have F.R.I.D.A.Y do a medical scan and take a sample of blood just to be sure. We couldn’t really tell what happened with Goblin from the T.V, but it was obviously something,” he said.

At that, Peter looked around. Everyone — except for Tony that is, who was looking at the teens intently — averted their gaze at Bruce’s words. He had wondered if they heard what Green Goblin had said, and it was obvious by now that they had. He silently thanked them for not bringing it up, even though they wanted to.

“He poisoned me, but Peter gave me the antidote. ‘M fine,” she mumbled tiredly.

“P-poison?” Tony coughed out, his eyes wide. He wasn’t the only one shocked and concerned, but the others hid it better.

“Let’s go over to somewhere where there’s more light so we can make sure,” Bruce instructed softly, before standing up and moving to the center of the ship, where the light from the ceiling was shining down.

Y/N went to to follow him, her grip on Peter never lessening. Peter didn’t mind, he was more than happy to hold onto her. He joined them both, and thankfully FRIDAY was intelligent enough to be able to scan Y/N without needing Peter to step aside. He patiently waited for Bruce to take Y/N’s finger prick, and the couple watched as he analyzed the incoming scan.

“You seem okay, the antidote worked quickly . . . But the poison and antidote has some side effects and has weakened you. You’ll need to rest like Peter,” Bruce concluded. “I’ll analyze your blood just to make sure.”

As soon as she was given the green light, Y/N wasted no time in during around and plopping herself in her seat. Peter gladly joined her.

When the Quinjet reached the compound, everyone began organizing themselves. Natasha took it upon herself to wake the now-sleeping teenagers, who had wrapped themselves around each other. Y/N’s legs were thrown over Peter’s lap, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Peter had his arms wrapped around her, his head resting against her own.

Everyone had noticed — except Tony, that was, who was too worried about his daughter to notice anything else. However, no one said a word, wanting them to sleep.

When Natasha approached the teens, she reached her hand out to shake Peter’s shoulder, when Y/N shifted. After a moment, she settled, but her mumbling came not long after. Natasha didn’t catch what she said, but when she moved around more, it woke Peter up.

“Wha—” Peter started to mumble himself, blinking a couple times before turning to Y/N. Recognizing the situation, he shifted, pulling Y/N closer. In response, Y/N kept moving around, but couldn’t go anywhere in Peter’s arms.

“Catch me, please,” she whispered in her sleep, making Peter’s and Natasha’s eyes widen.

“Y/N, Y/N, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up,” Peter said, his voice loud but still kind, wasting no time in gently shaking her shoulder. This got everyone’s attention, stopping what they were doing to turn to the teenagers and the Widow.

“Pe—ter, catch me!” Y/N yelled, kicking her leg out and hitting the air. She tossed and turned and Peter had to tighten his grip on her so she didn’t accidentally fall onto the ground.

“Y/N, wake up,” he repeated, pausing before ultimately cupping her cheek in his hand. The comforting touch instantly drew her from her restless sleep, and as soon as she became aware, she was looking around hurriedly. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Y/N relaxed, wrapping her arms around Peter and pulling herself closer to him — if that was even possible. He adjusted himself so she was sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, head nestled into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her back, his chin on his shoulder, glancing at the other Avengers.

After a few minutes of small mumblings from Peter about how he was here for her and how she was safe, Steve cleaned his throat. “We’re ready,” he announced to the team, although it was clear who his intended target was. Everyone but Peter and Y/N had their stuff.

The team stood up, Tony and Natasha grabbing Y/N and Peter’s belongings, while Peter stood up, carrying his girlfriend. No one said a word about it until they reached the compound’s living room, where Y/N had fallen asleep and Peter had laid her carefully on the couch.

“What was that?” Tony asked, coughing. His voice was thick with emotion and hoarse.

When Peter turned around, wearing a tired, concerned, and sad expression, Tony opened his mouth to retract the question. He was about to say that it was fine, he could hear about it another time, but Peter already started talking.

“During the fight, she-she fell. I dived after her but was knocked out of the way. I assumed the worst, but one of the other Peters caught her,” he explained, averting his gaze and ultimately squeezing his eyes shut as he recalled the utter fear that ran through his blood. He let the team adjust to this for a couple seconds, since he wasn’t done speaking. “Then, Goblin must’ve grabbed her. He wanted me to . . . to admit who she is to me because he wanted to hurt me. I was reluctant, how could I trust him? So he poisoned her, but the other Peters arrived and we got the antidote for her and cured him.”

Tony’s gaze fell to his daughter. “Oh my god,” he whispered, gravitating towards her and kneeling down. Reaching out to brush the hair away from her face, he looked up at Peter as he pieced the puzzle together. “Are you two in a relationship with each other?” He asked.

Peter slowly looked around at everyone in the room, all still processing what he had just revealed. “We were going to tell you,” he admitted. It was the truth.

Tony nodded, taking a deep breath before standing up. He turned to Peter and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, Pete. You did great today,” he said.

Blinking, Peter nodded a little numbly. However, he couldn’t hide his tired, goofy smile as he let himself flop on the couch next to Y/N. He pulled his girlfriend closer to himself, knowing that it wouldn’t wake her up. Steve threw a blanket over them and the team all took their seats, beginning a quiet conversation. Closing his eyes, Peter continued to smile as he was holding Y/N and feeling her warmth, letting his team’s soft and low voices lull him to sleep.

It would take a while for them to be okay again, but they worked through it together. And now, at least, they didn’t need to hide it from the Avengers anymore. (Although they did have to deal with Sam and Bucky’s constant teasing).

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missjomarch · 1 year

Text

No Getting Out of This

Luca Fantilli x reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: big bad curse words (that’s it)

A/N: I may or may not already have a part 2 written for this 🧍🏽‍♀️

Luca was going to die. Not literally, but it is entirely possible he’d stroke out. You and the Fantillis all had a running bet going on his reaction.

It was mid February, and the boys were playing Ohio State in the Faceoff on the Lake. Not only that, but you and Luca’s one year anniversary was that weekend. Luca had really wanted you to be there, but you told him that you had 3 big tests this week that you couldn’t miss. That had been a bit of a lie. You did have tests, but after a phone call from Adam about Luca’s depressive state you decided you could make it work. You were able to convince your professors to let you to take the exams earlier in the week, and Adam helped you book a flight to Ohio.

You hadn’t seen Luca in over a month and it was killing you both. You went to school in Texas, so making it up to Michigan during the school year was nearly impossible. You watched all of Luca’s games on the TV, and he’d call you after to give you the on-ice details. He appreciated it, but you knew it’d never be the same as you sitting in the stands of Yost. He wanted nothing more than to see you wearing a maize colored jersey with a 63 on the back, letting the whole stadium know you were his girl. It killed you to be unable to give that to him, but your education came first.

Ironically, the last time you saw Luca was when they played OSU at home in January. You were a sophomore, but you and Luca were the same age. Spring semester was always busy for you, and you had just barely been able to make it up before your classes started. You both wanted to get in one last game of his freshman year, knowing you might not make it to another this season. That was until Adam called you last weekend. He explained how down Luca had been, clearly missing you more than you anticipated. So you booked the flight.

You and Adam had coordinated your arrival for Friday night so you’d be there to surprise Luca before the game on Saturday. Julia had just picked you up from the airport and was taking you back to the hotel, where you’d hide while the Fantillis went out for a family dinner. They had gotten you your own room, and you’d basically be stuck in there until Luca became aware of your presence on Saturday morning.

Once you arrived at the hotel, Julia snuck you into their room. Adam was in charge of distracting his brother but you had to literally hide in the closet until you received the all clear text from Julia. Once deemed safe, you made your way out of the closet. Looking around the room, you found the Fantillis had left you some money for vending machine snacks.

Ever the providers. You thought to yourself. Now you knew where Luca got it from. He was constantly buying you things. When you were together, he never allowed you to pay for anything. Most definitely not food, but he’d even pick up your grocery or shopping bill if he was with you. Your venmo was only further proof of this. If you mentioned being hungry or going to get coffee after class, he’d send you a quick $10 to cover it. Having always been incredibly independent, you argued over this often. Nevertheless, you were thankful they had thought about you. Your phone dinged, breaking you from your thoughts of Luca.

Adam

boys are in 104 if you wanna say hi

You smiled at the screen, liking the message before making your way to the door. You walked the hall until you found the room the boys were in, and you knocked on the door. You heard some shouts on the other side before Rutger opened the door. He looked rather annoyed until his eyes landed on your short frame in the door way.

“No fucking way.” He mumbled.

“Who is it?” Someone shouted from the abyss of the room. Rutger stepped away from the door a bit, allowing the boys to see you standing there. You heard a screech and before you can react, Mark is running to you and snatching you in his arms.

“BESTIE IS HERE!” He screams, mimicking a high pitched voice you assume is meant to be yours. Rutger closes the door behind you as Mark drags you into the room. The commotion is slightly deafening, all the boys asking their own version of “where’d you come from” and “why’re you here.” You had assumed Adam told them you were coming, clearly you were wrong.

“Yo wreck-it Ralph, I can’t breathe.” You groan to Mark and he releases you, suddenly allowing you to breathe. You gulp air for a moment as the boys stare at you.

“Does Luca know you’re here?” Ethan speaks up, a slight smirk on his face. You shake your head.

“No it’s a secret, we’re gonna surprise him tomorrow.”

“Oh he’s going to be sooo mad we got you for a whole night before him.” Mark giggles, messing up your hair. You scrunch your nose at him, attempting to fix the frizz.

“Don’t brag, Estapa. You remember what happened last time.” You refer to the last time you had surprised Luca, which was last fall after you got an early start to fall break. You had texted Mark to pick you up from the airport and insisted you go get lunch while Luca was still in class. He bragged about his time spent with you all day until Luca literally locked him out of the house.

“Trust me, I won’t. I want to sleep inside this trip.” The boys laughed at this. You made your way to one of the beds, and plopped down. You settled in, deciding to hijack their snacks rather than spending the Fantillis money. Mark sat beside you and you all spent the night watching movies and discussing the game the next day.

“Y/n, you’re gonna be at family skate tomorrow right?” You snapped your head up at Rutgers question. You could see the smiles spread on Mark and Ethan’s faces as Rutger stared at you.

“Oh you bet she is,” Mark patted your shoulder in a taunting way. You glared at him from your spot on the bed.

“Hush up, Estapa. You know I don’t skate.”The room erupted at his comment. You were from the south and, despite being a hockey player’s girlfriend, you had only been on skates once. It scared you, honestly. Luca had asked many times, but you usually refused. It wasn’t a secret, but discussing your lack of skating experience in a room full of hockey players probably wasn’t your brightest idea.

Luke’s voice rose above the rest, “Oh come ON, what do you mean you don’t skate you’re dating-“ Luke rambled on, baffled by your fear of the ice. The rest of the team - besides Mark and Ethan - was equally shocked, not comprehending how someone could just not skate. Then the convincing began. The boys all threw in their various thoughts, all offering to teach you. They were wasting their breath. If Luca couldn’t get you in skates, what makes them think they could?

“Yeah, come on y/n/n I’ll give you $50 if you get out on the ice tomorrow.” Duker offered, and his face was serious.

“Listen Dukes I really don’t-“ You were cut off by the door opening, mentally thanking whoever saved you from this conversation. You all turn to the door, expecting to see one of the boys coming back from downstairs. Instead, you’re met with Adam fantilli’s shocked expression. He was supposed to text you when they left dinner so you could be safely hidden away in your room before Luca’s return. You never got the text. Knowing your boyfriend can’t be far behind, you throw the blanket you were using over your body to hide. Mark helps adjust it over you before shifting his body ontop of yours to hide the awkward shaped lump you’ve created.

“How was the Tilli family dinner?” Ethan questions from across the room, everyone else is silent. You hear Luca’s voice as he enters the room, and your heart begins to race. Familiar butterflies fill you with warmth at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Even after a year, it’s almost enough to get you crawling out from under the blanket.

“Which one of you idiots invited a girl in here? I swear a heard a voice-“ Luca is cut off by the guys’ quick denial.

“Nah man you probably just heard something from the tv.” Mark grumbles from on top of you. You roll your eyes, knowing they had just been watching a hockey game.

“Hope so, you know coach will have our asses. Mark, can you move dude? I wanna sit down.” You hold your breath, waiting to see how Mark will play this off.

“Oh no thanks man. I’m quite comfortable here actually.” Mark says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Come on, Estapa you’re literally in MY bed. Get your ass up.” Mark’s weight remains on you but you can see Luca’s shadow move closer to the bed through the blanket. Mark shifts the tiniest bit and you barely hear him whisper.

“Sorry I tried.” He’s already accepted defeat. Nevertheless, he turns back to Luca.

“You’re gonna have to move me yourself, bro.” Luca sighs heavily, and then the bed is jolting. You can’t see anything besides their shadows tumbling, but you can definitely feel the boys fighting atop you.

“Get your…” someone rolls over you, you swallow your groan, “fat ass OFF my bed Estapa or so help me-“ suddenly you can breathe again as all 206 pounds of Mark Estapa roll off of you and into the floor with a thud.

“Ouch…” mark groans from the floor. You want to laugh, but you hold it in to avoid disclosing your position. The rest of the boys are laughing at the commotion, seemingly forgetting you were there.

“Finally, damn.” Luca sighes. You hear him slip off his shoes and feel the bed dip beside you as he sits down. He scoots until he’s in the middle, stopping literally right in front of you. You know it’s over when he begins to lean back against you, so you stick your hands out from the blanket to grab his sides. Luca let’s out a girlish screech, laughter erupting around the room.

“WHAT THE FUCK” Luca screams, bounding off the bed. You take that time to pull the blanket off you, revealing yourself to your boyfriend. The fear on his face melts to shock as he finds your face staring back at him. You grin at him as he gapes, smiles finding the faces of the boys surrounding you as well.

“Surprise baby,” you beam, holding out your arms slightly. Your face drops slightly as you notice the tears that have begun gathering in your boyfriend’s eyes. It hadn’t occurred to you that maybe he didn’t want you here. Maybe you shouldn’t have come unannounced like this…

You’re unable to finish the thought as Luca bounds across the bed towards your open arms. He ends up basically tackling you before burying his face in your neck.

“Are you serious? Are you real?” Luca questions, hands gripping your waist like he thought you might disappear. You briefly register the boys filing out of the room, Adam saluting you before closing the door and leaving you with Luca.

“Yeah I’m here, love.” You thread your fingers through his newly trimmed mullet, pressing soft kisses to his hairline. He pulls his head from your neck slightly and you can see the tears that have fallen.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my boy, of course. Why else?” You smile down at him. He sniffles slightly as you begin to wipe the tears from his soft cheeks.

“I thought you couldn’t come. What happened to your tests?” Luca’s face was back in between your head and shoulder, and you giggled slightly as his mumbling tickled your neck.

“I took them earlier this week. Adam helped me fly out and plan everything.” You explained. Luca’s head snapped up at this.

“That asshole has been so smug all week, this explains everything.” Luca grumbles. You laugh at his attitude towards his brother.

“I was going to hide tonight and surprise you tomorrow, but you kind of ambushed my plan.” Luca snorts at this, pushing himself up onto an elbow beside you. His arm still clasped tightly around your waist, rubbing circles into your side.

“Sorry about your plan, but I’m glad I did. I think any longer without you and I would’ve died.” He smirked at you, knowing you’d scold him for the dramatics.

“That’s a bit excessive Lu, you thought I wasn’t coming anyways.” You bring an arm up to rest on the side of his face.

“Yeah but I’ll play so much better now that I know you’re here,” Luca leans in, “you know I gotta impress my girl.”

“Is that so?” You smirk back at him, a teasing smile making its way onto his features as he nods.

“Mhmm..” Luca hums. He leans in to finally close the space between you, catching your lips in his for a kiss. It’s less than a minute until he’s pushing you into the mattress slightly, attempting to deepen the kiss. However, you’re pushing against his chest before he can succeed. He frowns at your denial, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“We have plenty of time for that, baby. Wait for Sunday.” Luca groans, tipping his head back towards the ceiling. You roll your eyes once again at his dramatics.

“Early arrival calls for early celebration, now hush and let me have my girl.” He captured your lips again and this time you don’t pull away. Allowing the kiss to take a passionate turn, not bothering to control your small moans. Luca’s hands are all over you, and yours are entangled in his hair. His tongue swipe at your bottom lip, and you grant him access to deepen the connection. After what feels like hours, you both break away. Left breathing heavily with swollen red lips, you smile softly. Luca doesn’t go far, still hovering over you to mumble against your mouth.

“You don’t understand how much I needed this right now, how much I needed you. I missed you more than anything.” Luca’s words sent warmth spreading through you. You rested your forehead against his as your thumb rubbed soft patterns against his cheek.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, baby. An outdoor game AND an anniversary? It’s a big weekend.” Luca nodded.

“I’m just so glad you’re here. Gonna give you full princess treatment for this on Sunday.” He pressed another light peck to your lips.

“Gonna score a goal for me Fantilli?” You mused, that teasing grin making its way back to your face.

“For you, my love? I’ll score a million goals.” His head dips down into your neck again, this time pressing feather light kisses to your sensitive skin. You melt into his touch, allowing his lips to soothe you. It wasn’t inherently sexual, often interrupted by fits of giggles or momentary cuddles. Nothing existed outside of this moment, it was just the two of you. That was until Luca’s lips detached from your jaw, a devious smirk reappearing on his face.

“So what is this I hear about you joining us on the ice for family skate tomorrow?” You groan loudly at this, knowing now there was no way out of this. You grab the pillow from behind your head and shove it into Luca’s face.

“Wipe off that shit eating grin, Duker is giving me 50 bucks.” Luca giggles to himself, giddy with excitement. He pulls you to him, placing a kiss to your temple.

“My girls gonna be a skater.”

You sigh, “don’t get used to it Fantilli.” But you could still feel Luca’s broad smile as his head returned to your neck.

Yeah. There’s no getting out of this one.

#luca fantilli x reader #umich hockey #luca fantilli #ethan edwards #mark estapa #adam fantilli #hockey boys

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