it’s butsuma birthday so i did a fast doodle of mama bear butsuma ;w;
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time to re-paste my tags and tag everything I’ve been getting lazy with :))))))))
can’t wait for these to get deleted !!!!!!!!!!
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FREE USE WITH MIGUEL? LIKE ANYWHERE ANYTIME?
a/n: YES NONNIE, ANY--FUCKING--TIME. AND HERES ONE OF THOSE TIMES :^) idk if this is free-use or feral!reader or both. anyway, just enjoy it lol. like every time, this got away from me
special thanks to mona (@whatthefishh) for letting me scream this shit to her over discord + for helping me figure out exactly what 'free use' is lol
cw: smut (18+), free use kink, small very small bit of somnophilia (CAN'T ESCAPE IT), non-explicit oral (m-receiving), afab!reader, mentions of ovulation (+ period) horniness, fingering, cockwarming, fucking w/ multiple orgasms, the same Spanish pet name used over and over, reader is basically a bothersome cat, writer is so all over the place it's confusing.
wc: 2.4k (this was supposed to be a quick thot but wtvr)
---
miguel is a gracious boyfriend, he practically lives to please you. so when you approach him in the middle of the day with nothing but his shirt draped over your figure, he has a hard time rejecting your advances.
sure, he tries, but every time he gives you what he wants.
you're spoiled, really.
miguel works at home as much as possible. he hates having to leave you before the sun rises, walking away from a perfectly cozy bed and wet cunt (😳).
miguel convinces himself that Spider HQ can survive a day or two without him on site. he has several capable Spiders that do most of the heavy lifting for him and LYLA isn't afraid to take charge, sitting her holographic ass in the boss' chair.
he can set up mission plans and keep track of everything from his laptop, and he's always on call if he is needed for anything. the only issue is that working remotely doesn't work when he can't get anything done.
he's trying to go over notes from a meeting that was held earlier this morning.
he was supposed to be there, but you physically wouldn't let him out of bed. he swears you're a Spider yourself with the strength you have when you're especially needy and sleepy.
he smelled it when he woke up in the middle of the night to you mouthing over his boxers, that decadent sweetness that indicates you're ovulating.
you were desperate to get a taste of him, to fill that unbearable emptiness inside of you, whimpering with relief when you finally feel his fingers bury themselves in your hair to push your further against his bulge.
he learned early in your relationship that your insatiable appetite for him increases tenfold during your window of fertility (don't even mention your period). and so does your need for sleep. so he caters to your needs accordingly.
you passed out after convincing him to fuck the heat out of you, to snuff out the fire until your neediness recedes. apparently, the only time you aren't horny is when you're sleeping (though that isn't true... you wake up horny all the time??).
you've been sleeping soundly ever since, utterly exhausted by his thorough support, but he knows that once you wake up, you'll be crying for him again.
he crawled back into bed with you after telling LYLA to take over for the day, but after a few hours of almost suffocating because of the way you curl up on his chest like a cat, he got up to get some coffee and finish some computer work.
as soon as his warmth left you, you fussed. eyes still closed as you whined and moaned for his body. he shushed you, gently smoothing down your bedhead until you settled.
it didn't last for long.
you padded out of bed with bleary eyes, clearly looking for him when you walked into the living room. he offered you a quick "morning, cariño." before focusing back on his computer. he had to limit as much contact with you as possible if he wanted to finish his work.
just a few more pages and a couple of emails, and then he can give you all the attention you need.
his shirt brushes against your thigh like a summer dress as you make your way through the room.
he looked adorable with his loose white long sleeve on and black dad-glasses. his hair is still curly and fluffed, telling you he wasn't planning on leaving you anytime soon.
you shuffle over to the couch, sitting next to him with a sigh.
he doesn't react.
somehow, the minimal recognition that you're there, his adamant refusal to look at you, turns you on as much as it irritates you.
he's really trying his best to be a good boss, hm? trying to resist a temptation that's barely a foot away from him.
it makes you feel dirty and deprived. you blatantly rub your legs together, urging him to look. your gaze washes over his sharp jawline watching as it clenches at your soft coos.
"...baby."
"'m working, amor." his voice is still soft, despite the efforts he's taking to ignore you.
you huff.
"but--"
"not right now."
you scoot closer to him, strategically allowing the hem of his shirt to ride up on your thighs. so he's really going to make you do it...
you tug at his sleeve, taking his arm away from his work (though it doesn't look like he was working on much at all, he's been sitting on that exact page for 5 minutes now).
"not right now, mi vida..." he protests lightly, but he doesn't move away. he's not even trying, you think.
you smirk at his empty words. you can see the way he's looking at you: your messy hair, bare legs, the shadow of his shirt hiding away your most sensitive spot. his breathing grows heavier and so does his stare.
"i have work--" miguel is always so soft and sweet to you, melting in your hand though he has all the power to stop it.
"please, miguel? just one, for me?" his lips part as you place his hand against your bare thigh, slowly dragging it upwards until it meets your center.
he doesn't take his hand away, doesn't even pull back a single inch, instead, he instantly complies, cupping his warm hand over its entirety. he chokes out a low groan. you're not wearing anything underneath.
"ok, i guess if it's only once..." he whispers, already breathy. he's leaning over you, almost on top of you, forcing your legs to spread impossibly wide.
he watches as his finger rubs against your slick center, spreading your wetness until you're glistening for him under the late morning light. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, eyes flicking up to your face to witness the small o your mouth makes as he presses in deeper.
his mouth waters as he fingers you, he wishes he had enough time to go down on you, and taste your slick straight from the source. he knows how much you love it when he fucks you with his tongue and suckles on your clit. but no, he has work to do. he needs to get you off so he can finally focus.
"this what you needed, cariño?" it's all but growled into your space, his voice low and taunting. all you can do is nod with bleary eyes as your hands grip onto his thick bicep for support.
he adds another finger and thrusts them into you quicker, angling them just so his palm can gently nudge at your clit. he can feel you tightening around him already, fluttering with each pass that he makes against your g spot. he presses harder, drinking in your choked gasp and shaking thighs.
you're so wet, spilling over his fingers and dripping against his hand. the noises between you are deafening. a mixture of sopping thrusts, heavy breathing, and quiet mewls fill the still silence of the living room.
he's so good at this, too good at this.
how can he make you fall apart with just his hands, caress every sensitive nerve with a single stroke?
you're at the cusp of euphoria. your body, filled to the brim with pleasure, urges you to let go, to take what you want. but you don't want to. you want to stay at the edge forever with his hands on you, to be at the center of his affections, always just one breath away from transcendence.
you're not ready for him to stop touching you anytime soon, you realize. you still need it and after you'll need it again. you need him.
his glasses start sliding as he looks down at you, dropping until they're barely at the tip of his nose. he's focused, eyes locked on how he fills you again and again.
his fingers speed up, expertly aiming against that special spot inside of you. your hips rise from the couch, needing him as deep as possible. then it all falls apart.
you cry out, back arching and eyes rolling. your body is barely touching the couch under you and it feels like you're being lifted up by unknown forces as you reach your climax. white fills your vision and heat thrums through your limbs. you can't hide your one orgasm from him, it's too intense.
before you could recover, he slips his fingers out of you.
"alright, honey, we're done." he casually sucks your essence off of his fingers before propping his glasses back to the arch of his nose.
"ok, ok, i get it. you're busy." you pant, still pulsing from your high. and...he's already back to work. he wasn't kidding when he said he had stuff to do. "i'll just...be sitting here."
so you watch him get back to work, or you try to. the incessant scrolling, typing, reading, and muttering thoughts that accompany his work is usually enough to put you to sleep. it's an unusual lullaby that's attached to him. one that brings you the comfort of knowing he's near.
but he's hard.
he seems so relaxed, so content to work, but his erection presses so desperately against his sweats, outlined perfectly by the grey fabric.
so how could you not touch him? he clearly needs your help... and if he doesn't, then you need it.
you want to be good, you do, but when he types so effortlessly like that with the fingers that were just stuffed in your cunt, or when he looks over his dad-glasses to look at something like a hot fucking nerd, you can't help it.
it's been, what, 12 minutes? that's enough work for the day in your opinion.
you start slow, hesitantly, watching to make sure he's not looking at you (though he can clearly see you from his peripheral vision). you stand up on the couch right next to him. you're a bit unstable on the squishy cushions so you use his shoulder for support.
he looks over at you, confused as to why you decided to walk all over the furniture like a toddler.
you carefully maneuver over his arms to settle yourself on his lap. you're a koala around him, holding your torso to his, looping your arms around his neck and sharing your shimmering lustful body heat. he grunts when you scoot even closer to him, your bare pussy pressing entirely against his covered cock.
but he ignores it.
he doesn't say anything, barely even moves, and just continues to work. you pout a bit, but let him. you convince yourself that you're content with just sitting here and enjoying his company (despite the large distraction that pulses against your pussy, pressing so sweetly under your needy clit).
you listen to his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, the occasional sound of tapping keys. you nuzzle against the soft shirt that stretches over his chest. you're fine.
it's not like you're leaking all over his sweatpants, leaving a puddle at the apex of the fabric. you're not crying on the inside, so empty and fluttering around nothing. you're fine.
until you arent.
you lazily lift your hips above his, nearly head-butting his chin in the process. his arms lift to help you get settled, hands resting on your waist, as patient as ever.
you reach below you and he stiffens. he wasn't expecting you to--
your hand buries itself under his sweats, delicate fingers brushing over his erection. he breathes out your name when you squeeze him teasingly before pulling him out.
"what did i say?" he grunts, hand swiftly wrapping around your wrist. the words are lost on your ears as you caress the silky steel in your fist. it pulses at your touch. he needs this.
he says your name once more.
"you're working."
"then why are you trying to fuck me?!"
"i'm only going to sit on it." you give him an innocent look. you slowly lower yourself so your dripping center meets his before sliding your glistening lips over his hardness. "won't move or say a thing, promise!"
"cariño..."
"just wanna warm you, baby." you position him right against your entrance. "is that so wrong?" you lower yourself before he can say anything else.
you take him easily with how wet you are, and he fills you perfectly. he sucks in a breath at the feeling then growls out, "don't move."
well, you do move (is anyone surprised). you move a lot. but he moves too. harsher and more competitive. who the hell fucks competitively?
you moan over him, bouncing on his cock eagerly. his hands hold your waist, guiding your movements just how he likes it: fast and hard. his laptop, somewhere on the other side of the couch, is forgotten and probably long dead by now. so much for working at home.
you've cum at least four times already, but who's keeping count (you're not. you're so fucked out, you have to manually breathe now.)
he won't let up anymore. you asked for it and you're getting it.
"do i gotta fuck you to sleep, hm? is that the only way you'll leave me the fuck alone and let me work?"
you only admit now that you're eyes were definitely bigger than your stomach. you're practically drooling as he takes control once again, snapping his hips from under you, harsh and punishing. as if this is a punishment.
he has to carry you back to bed that afternoon. he couldn't just leave you on the couch, naked and shivering. plus you'd be a distraction with your bruised hips and fucked out cunt.
you murmur adorably in your sleep as your body unconsciously nuzzles further into his arms. he places you lovingly on the bed and you immediately curl up. he sighs, brushing your hair out of your face because he knows how much you hate it when it gets in your eyes or tickles at your nose during the night.
you look so cozy and comfortable. but so alone in this huge bed.
he debates laying down with you, only until you're in a deeper sleep.
maybe just a few minutes?
LYLA had a few choice words when he woke up in the morning....
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SETTLE DOWN!
luke castellan x reader
★ “for crying out loud, settle down!”
ABOUT - you hate his guts. he hates yours. but you’d by lying if you said you didn’t want to make out with him until his lips start bleeding. and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that idea.
WARNINGS - sexual references, sexual comments, enemies to lovers, steamy makeout scenes, no explicit smut. both luke and reader are very horny and very mean sooo two red flags lol
A/N - please don’t make fun of my english/australian vocabulary. i know americans don’t use the word ‘fit’ but LET ME LIVE IN PEACE!!!let me know if you’d fancy a part 2 <3
WC - 3.7k words
it’s hard to recall when exactly your distaste towards luke castellan first developed.
maybe it started off as rude comments and shoved shoulders, or simply the act of tripping over each other's shoes, paired with a few nasty glances. either way, you hated his guts.
this sentiment was obviously returned by luke, who was eager to constantly egg you on and rile you up. maybe he found it amusing- watching the ever so calm and collected eldest daughter of the hypnos cabin going absolutely ballistic whenever luke did something slightly annoying. he loved the way her mature and gentle persona shattered as soon as he provoked her.
it was rather strange how quickly they let their masks slip, letting themselves shout foul obscenities at each other as soon as a conflict arose between the two of them. it was like being near each other was the primary catalyst for their arguments and squabbles- not the actual contents of the disagreement itself, but the players involved.
curiously, luke’s terrible attitude was never extended to anyone other than you. around everyone else at camp half-blood, luke was the perfect gentleman. warm and welcoming to anyone who happened to walk past him, a great swordsman, well-kept, respectful and polite, the list goes on. he was perfect. but as soon as his eyes met yours, his entire body shifted. he became something colder, something ravenous- something hungry. he was out for blood, he just didn’t understand why.
you were slumped over a picnic table near the cabins, tiredly observing all handful of half-blood kids from various cabins making friendship bracelets.
it was dark out, the moon and the embers of the nearby fire acting as the sole providers of light for the camp that night.
truthfully, you didn’t want to be there. you would rather be in bed, coddled up between your sheets for hours before heading down to the infirmary to help out the younger kids with their sleeping troubles. maybe afterwards you could go down to the theatre and join in on a few songs with the apollo kids, or even practice sparring with clarisse.
whatever it was, you didn’t want to be there. not with luke castellan’s eyes studying your every move. you didn’t need to lift your head to know he was looking at you- you could feel it. the arrogance was radiating off him and you could smell his pride from across the picnic table. your nose easily picked up on notes of wet grass, a neutral deodorant, pure spite, and vanilla candles.
after what seemed like an eternity, you eventually shot your head up to meet luke’s unwavering gaze.
“someone’s sleepy.” he smirked, his voice calm and cold. he looked satisfied; content with watching you slowly rise in anger as he began to coddle you and patronise your every move.
you ran a hand through your hair, fixing the messy state it was in after laying down for so long. “i’m not sleepy, just bored.” you retorted, letting your hands hold up your head as you stared deeply into his eyes, not breaking eye contact.
luke played along, refusing to blink as he picked up on the competitive gesture. “bored, huh?” he mused, shooting you a cocky grin as he leaned forward over the table. “you’re never satisfied, are you, princess?”
you rolled your eyes, letting your pupils meet the back of your head as you stifled a groan. you slowly covered one side of your face in your hand, hiding your pink cheeks as a result of his use of the nickname ‘princess’.
“don’t you have a loser convention to get to?” you asked, referring to the cabin councillors meeting that he was supposed to be at.
luke shrugged, looking to his side as he watched a young demeter boy making a bracelet. “got cancelled. now i get to look at your pretty little face for an hour straight.”
“i’m going to bed.” you grumbled, standing up from the picnic table, an unfinished friendship bracelet left discarded. you walked away, hearing little to no protests from the rest of the table.
luke’s eyes met the bracelet you left behind, studying it for a moment. the colours were cute and the beads were placed strategically along the string, creating an interesting and visually pleasing combination of textures and shapes. luke’s hand wandered over to the bracelet, quickly snatching it before securely tying it and stuffing it in his pocket.
luke wasn’t sure why he stole the bracelet. maybe he thought he could taunt you with it, or maybe he could just wear it for shits and gigs. it was a pretty bracelet- why wouldn’t he want to wear it?
a week passed by, and it was time for capture the flag.
luke had consistently come out of the games a champion, securing his place as the best swordsman at camp half-blood whenever possible.
you were tired of it. you promised yourself that when the opportunity arose, you would beat him to it. you would earn the praise he revived so effortlessly.
your determination to win capture the flag was also partially encouraged by the events of the previous tuesday.
you, luke, and a few other older demi-gods were forced to monitor the younger campers on a trip to the nearby lake. simple, right? wrong.
things went south fast when luke ‘accidentally’ nudged your shoulder a bit too hard, forcing you to fall into the lake. luckily, you were a strong enough swimmer and were able to get back on land safely.
“sorry about that, y/n. maybe next time you should keep out of the way?” he leaned in close, whispering in your ear.
luke smirked lightly as his dry hand rubbed the soaking wet and now transparent fabric covering your shoulder. his lips softly grazed your neck as you released yourself from his grip, shooting him a dirty look.
“you should watch your step, castellan. things like this happen to anyone.”
luke scoffed, looking you up and down as he took in the sight of your shivering body. “do they now?” he asked, his head turning to follow your figure as you walked past him.
as you walked away, luke couldn’t help but study your body as it became revealed by the fabric of the camp t-shirt sticking to your skin. how could he not admire the way he could see the vague outline of a lacy black bra underneath your top? or the way your wet hair was framing your angry little face? how you stared him down as your friend offered you a towel.
if you weren’t so acutely aware of how your figure was on full display, you would’ve pushed him in as well- but you were way too infuriated to even get close to him at this point… as well as the fact you didn’t think you could handle the idea of him taking off your shirt in front of you, all wet as his hair let water droplets roll down his torso.
maybe you could handle hitting him with a baseball bat a few times, but the idea of his face all beaten and bloodied was strangely appetising as well.
in all fairness, luke’s actions were not unprovoked. it’s not like you didn’t also tease him and fuck around with his temper.
for example, the very day before the incident at the lake, you had used your abilities as a daughter of hypnos to put him to sleep… for 19 hours, causing him to miss out on camp activities and lose hours of valuable training time.
you felt pure bliss watching him as he stepped out of the hermes cabin, confused and disoriented as hoards of campers instantly surrounded him.
“are you okay luke?”
“i heard you were in a coma!”
“we thought you were a goner,”
luke blocked out the concerned comments of his peers as soon as he caught you gazing over at him from the deck of the hypnos cabin.
with that ‘i got you good’ smirk plastered across your face, luke knew he had to get you back. getting to see your semi-exposed and cold, shuddering body in the process of doing so was only a bonus.
he felt a high from getting to see what he caused. what he did to you. it made him hungry for more. how else could he anger you? get you to show him more? how could you return the favour? would you? he didn’t know if you realised the effect you had on him- but he was going to do anything in his power for you to feel it too.
but those incidents were nothing compared to what was about to go down.
2 hours into capture the flag, and you had managed to fool and scare off enough members of the blue team, causing many individual members to go off track. those hours practising sword fighting with clarisse were definitely worth it.
you leaned against a nearby tree, closing your eyes for a moment as you fiddled with your sword. lost in thought, you heard something coming. more specifically, someone. you didn’t even have to open your eyes to know who it was.
“oh, hey castellan. isn’t it past your bedtime?” you asked, rubbing your eyes open as you lazily swung your sword back and forth.
luke scoffed, taking a step towards you. “i think i like you better when you’re drenched in lake water.” he smirked, looking into your eyes without breaking contact. he couldn’t look away. it wasn’t even because he wanted to intimidate you; he simply couldn’t stand to have you exit his field of vision. not right now, at least.
you look a step backwards, getting into position as you use your shield to protect yourself. “are you gonna try to maim me or what?”
luke took another step forward, mirroring your stance as he took the defensive. “and hurt your pretty little body? i’d rather die.”
you turned red, your mouth agape as you processed what he had said. “excuse me?” you spat, your voice breathy as your eyes widened.
“you heard me,” he smiled innocently, deceiving you before beginning to attack. you blocked every move, pacing around the area as you swung your sword at him. “you’re such a fucking prick!” you grumbled, trying to catch your breath as you struggled to mark him with your blade.
“language, princess.” he scolded, still smiling at you as he continued his attempts at disarming you.
that was the moment when you realised something.
you can play dirty.
not with your sleep-themed party tricks or your weak little fists, but with the power of unpredictability. the element of surprise.
you let him get closer to you, pretending to settle down before him. luke chuckled at the sight of your loosened grip on your shield and increasingly tired eyes, noticing the way your footsteps shuffled backwards and forwards.
“someone’s getting tired-“ his cocky sentiment was quickly cut off by the feeling of your hands tightly gripping his arm- his shock only furthering as your teeth dug into the soft skin on his wrist.
he instantly dropped his shield, his sword still held firmly in his other hand. you quickly released him from your bite, taking a step forwards as you put your weight on his shield. “ow- what the fuck?!” he stammered, looking up at you with red cheeks and a bleeding hand.
you were stumped. you hadn’t thought further than getting rid of his shield. “i didn’t mean to break skin to be honest. sorry.” you shrugged, picking up his shield and throwing it far away while he was still frozen in shock.
luke continued looking at you, silent as he became overwhelmed by the feeling of a ruthless war finally coming to an end within his mind.
obviously, he found you attractive. you were a pretty girl. sure, a lot of girls at camp half-blood were pretty. but for some odd reason, he thought you were much prettier. the type of pretty girl that deserved to be called cute nicknames every day and covered in gentle kisses every night. he wanted to kiss you softly, hold you tightly, say you looked gorgeous, make you tacky beaded bracelets that were the same colour as your eyes. he wanted to make you feel loved.
but he also thought you were a brat. always teasing him and only him. driving him insane with targeted comments and insults. purposefully making him look stupid in front of the younger campers and even patronising him for it. luke wanted to put you in your place. he wanted nothing more than to push you onto his bed in the dead of night, marking you as his. he yearned to hear your strained voice whimpering his name as he towered over you. he wanted to exchange knowing glances and pretend nothing had changed, despite the images of your hands gripping his bedsheets as you let out stifled moans etched into his mind.
luke often wondered how the two could overlap. how the fuck could these two perceptions of this one girl coexist? but luke didn’t wonder how it was possible to think about anymore, he didn’t care about that. now, he wondered if it was possible to act on both of his separate desires for her. he wondered if she even wanted him as much as he wanted her- if she wanted him at all.
“hey, i said i was sorry for making you bleed!” you called out, snapping him out of it.
“stop sulking! what, do you want me to kiss it better or something?”
luke blinked for the first time in what felt like centuries, shrugging as he let a sly smile creepy onto his face. “oh, im not sulking.” he insisted as he stepped closer towards the shorter girl.
he extended his wrist out towards you, a deep and bleeding bite mark engraved into the skin. “you gonna kiss it better, or…?”
you turned red, shaking your head. “i was just joking, castellan.” you murmured coldly, trying to avoid his gaze.
he kept his hand extended towards you, temping you to just take it and kiss it to get him to leave. “fucking loser…” you grumbled, holding his hand in yours as you gave his wrist a soft kiss.
“there, better?” you scoffed before luke’s hands began to tightly grip your wrist, spinning you gently onto your back as he pushed you to the ground, hovering over you. luckily, you still had your sword in your hand. you quickly moved it in front of you, holding the blade close to his neck.
“be careful, princess” he cooed, his sword digging into the dirt ground, standing upright in is position as the skin of your right thigh pressed against the blade. his hands gripped your shoulder and waist, keeping you bound to the floor as you began to squirm under his grip. “ugh, are you kidding me?!” you huffed, your face red from the feeling of intimacy between the two of you arising.
luke was basking in it, relishing the moment as he became almost addicted to the feeling of your skin against his. he let out a hitched breath, his eyes trailing down her frame as he finally realised just how close they were. the vulnerable yet stubborn look in her eyes set off a switch in him. you watched him curiously as he suddenly became a flustered mess, quickly scrambling off of you and standing up.
you lifted your back off the ground, using your hands to rid yourself of the dirt that had accumulated on your shirt.
“are you gonna explain whatever the fuck just happened, luke?” you asked, calling out to him from your spot on the ground.
he rolled his eyes, turning around to face you. “shit, y/n- are you fucking stupid?” he questioned, his voice reeking of irritation and frustration. you furrowed your brows, standing up as you approached him, sword and shield in hand. “oh, alright. forgive me for wondering why the dickhead who threw me into a lake a few days ago was pinning me to the ground in the middle of capture the flag for no reason?” i explained, seething as i pushed him back by the shoulders.
“what the fuck is your problem?” you asked again, letting yourself back him up against a nearby tree.
the game didn’t matter to you anymore. what mattered was getting to the bottom of why this prick was fucking around with you. sure, you liked how it felt being pushed against the ground. you liked the feeling of his blade pressing against your thigh. but you liked the boy more than his actions. you hated yourself for it, of course. this was the dude who’s been teasing you about and pushing you around for 3 summers straight- so why the fuck did you think he was the fittest guy you had ever laid your eyes on?
why did you want him to run his hands through your hair? suck on your neck till it went purple? why on earth did you spend countless nights dreaming about him holding you close as he slept next to you?
you were the eldest hypnos daughter at camp half-blood. you could’ve changed your dream easily; came up with literally any other fantasy at the drop of a hat- but you didn’t. you let it continue. because as much as you hated to admit it, you liked him. you wanted him bad. every last inch of him.
luke let your words echo through his mind for a bit. ‘what is my problem?’ he thought, his expression blank as he stared at you. “i don’t know, y/n! maybe my problem is you?” he said, his voice strained, yet still snarky and somewhat dramatic.
you rolled your eyes again, stepping forward. you kept your hands on his shoulders, pressing him further against the tree he was pinned against. “i’m your problem?!” you asked angrily, holding your sword against his neck once more.
“yes! you make me feel fucking weak.” luke confessed, gripping your wrist tightly as he pushed your hand away in order to create some space between his neck and the sword. “i can’t control myself around you.” he exclaimed, pushing his hand against yours as you retracted the blade from his neck.
“you bring out the worst in me, and i hate you for that.” you arched your brows, leaning forward. “that sounds like a you problem.” you quipped, defeatedly pushing the top of the blade of your sword into the ground as you let your newly free hand grip his chin- forcing him to look down at you.
luke’s hand wandered over to your face, his thumb softly grazing your bottom lip as you tilted his chin downwards, letting him look you in the eyes.
“don’t act like you don’t get exactly what i mean, princess.” he cooed, his voice low as his fingers traced over your lips and cheekbones, his other hand gently caressing your jawline as his fingertips wrapped around your neck.
you grumbled, standing on your toes to reach his height. “you’re a prick.” you scoffed, your eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly kissed him on the lips, his cheeks turning red as he mirrored your movements. he let his hands run through you hair, his other hand resting on your waist as he turned you around- pushing you against the tree now.
his hands ravenously scattered across your delicate frame, trying to feel every curve and dent on your face, back and waist. you pressed your body against his as his hands travelled across your form, closing any and all distance between the two.
after a few straight minutes of violently making out, you pulled away for air, staring into his eyes as your lower lip trembled in shock. you both tried to steady your breathing, lost in each other's eyes as your heartbeats returned back to normal.
“i’ll kiss you again if you turn around and let us win.” you said quickly, the offer seemingly the first thing you could think to say.
luke stayed quiet for a moment, before bursting out into hesitant laughter. “i mean, that’s a pretty good offer…” he said softly, letting his fingers trace your facial features as he studied the colour of your eyes.
“sure.” he said, a little smile on his face as you both leaned in again, the kiss a lot more passionate this time around. you held a clump of his hair in your hand, lightly pulling on on it as luke’s fingers jumped between gripping your neck and shoulders- the other hand running up and down your waist and hips.
you felt his knee hit the bark of the tree, slightly bent as it lightly pressed against the inside of your thigh. that’s when your hands began to grip the back of his shirt, your lips gliding down to the side of his neck. quiet moans escaped luke’s lips, only encouraging you to keep going. he moved his hand downwards, tracing circles into your hips as he moved his other arm hand upwards, cupping the space on the side of your breast with his thumb, lightly rubbing your ribcage.
the moment was only increasing in intensity- before luke was cut off my the sounds of someone calling his name. he quickly pulled away, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips before stepping back.
“right, time to hold up my end of the deal.” he chirped up, leaving one more needy kiss on your forehead.
“oh, by the way-“ he paused, before quickly pulling the bracelet you made the week before out of his pocket. “did you want this back, princess? or can i have it?” he asked cheerfully, his voice low as he looked over you.
“keep it.” you said hastily, your cheeks a vibrant shade of red. luke nodded, giving you one final kiss on the lips as he put the bracelet on the same wrist you had bitten earlier. he gave you a subtle wink and a smile, before jogging away- leaving you frozen in place.
you could hear him talking to his friend from a distance, noting on how he lied to effortlessly- saving your arse over a few kisses.
needless to say, the red team won capture the flag. but luke couldn’t bring himself to care about losing. how could he care about anything other than y/n and her hands and her smile and her eyes? her witty comments and remarks? the way she tilted her head up to look up at him? the way his face fits perfectly in her palm? how could he care about anything else ever again?
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it's hard to explain because inevitably you sound like an asshole, but some people are allowed to lose their temper, lose their mind - you're not, though.
when your friend never texts you first and misses your birthday and never makes an effort; you don't mind. you know she's struggling, and you want her to get the help that she deserves. you give her every excuse and every chance.
it shouldn't matter to you so much that people are always coming through for her. you want her to be happy, you love it for her. you love that her community rises up to the occasion. why does it bother you that when she snaps at someone, says horrible mean things - but two hours later, everyone is comforting her while she's crying. you know she's stressed. why do you kind of hate that she is welcomed back to her job, that her parents are endlessly wiring her money.
and you're - fuck, are you envious?
but when you don't text back, someone sits you down and says i know you're struggling, but you're being a bad friend. when you're too numb to show up for work, your boss just shakes his head. i'm sorry. i can't approve more time off. we have the company to protect. when you finally snap back at your family for making that shitty comment again, you're forced to apologize for being too sensitive.
god forbid you need something. people aren't used to you being the one asking. you're the giver like the book you hated; your pages all open and rumpled. you always have the answer, always have the solution. you are reliable, trustworthy. people like you don't struggle with things. you're supposed to be lifted by tragedy. you are given a maximum of 24 hours to grieve, and then you need to just behave at the party.
you can't read the giving tree without feeling like crying, and even that feels like it's too much emotion. like, nobody looks at you and assumes you're the tree; they'd name five other people before even considering you in the running. you're just there, never-asking.
your friend gets to say mean shit, that's just her personality. when you make a snide comment, you're just being petty. people laugh when your friend stands you up for another event; they say she's just like that. you were 5 minutes late to a meeting with friends and they were mad about it for the rest of the evening. your friend sets everything on fire; everyone applauds her through the ashes. you so much as light a candle: and suddenly now you're an arsonist.
you don't want your friend to suffer, though. the thing is that you just wish that the empathy and kindness your friend gets - you wish you had that option, that everyone offered you grace and money and a gentle reception.
the other day you were fighting down the bad urge; the void call, the end note. you tried-anyway. you went to the family event, tried laughing at the right moments. nodded and smiled and all of it. one of your siblings threw a fit, but she's allowed to, so everyone just rolled their eyes about it. you took 3 whole minutes to stand outside when you got overwhelmed. you literally set a timer about it.
in the morning you woke up to a text from your parents: you were a complete disgrace last night. idk what your attitude problem is, but you really need to fix it.
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cam girl (part eight)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
His breath is hot against your cheek, his body enclosing yours.
Behind Rafe, the door to the rest of this house is shut, but anyone could walk in at any minute.
It didn’t even cross your mind the day you were up in his bedroom with him that someone could come in, because why would they?
But the laundry room is a public area. The risk of being found is dangerous and alluring at the same time.
You never expected you’d think this way and feel so excited from such a risk, but then again, Rafe has turned your world upside down.
Your back is flush against the closet door. You feel Rafe’s hand move from your wrist to the hem of your uniform, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh under your dress.
“After everything I do for you… and you’re flirting with a guy in my fucking house,” he mutters.
“I wasn’t, baby,” you whisper, stirred by his jealousy.
“Why were you smiling at him like that?” Rafe asks, his eyes narrowing as his hand squeezes your thigh hard. It’s so fucking exciting that he’s this impassioned with envy, all over a ten-second conversation you had with another man.
“I was just being nice,” you say.
“Just being nice,” he mocks. “I’m getting that asshole fired.”
“Rafe,” you say. “I’m yours. You know that.”
“I have to make sure you know it, too, don’t I, baby?” His hand rises and presses roughly against your middle. You swallow hard. “I thought we said you weren’t gonna wear panties anymore.”
“I can’t…” You swallow hard. “I shouldn’t come to work like that.”
“You probably shouldn’t fuck who you work for, either,” he says, “but you do that all the time, don’t you?”
You feel him shift your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers pressing between your lips.
“Fuck,” you whisper in pleasure.
“Already wet,” he chuckles. “Already so fucking wet for me.”
He hitches your dress up. Thankfully, he’s wearing sweatpants and there aren’t any buttons or zippers to delay it any longer. He’s able to pull his pants down in one move.
Rafe roughly hikes your leg up. He bends to guide his cock into you, pushing your panties to the side, the sensation of doing this standing up so unbelievably hot.
You wrap an arm around his shoulders, sharply exhaling with his first hard push into you, the back of your head hitting the door behind you.
He feels so fucking entitled to you, and you wonder if it’s from his life of wealth and luxury, from being used to getting whatever he wants.
“You… are… fucking… mine,” he mutters, with a hard thrust between each word. You dig your nails into his shoulder, the passion between you making your entire body hot.
“You have nothing to be jealous about, Rafe,” you say into his ear. “Nothing. Ever.”
He captures your lips in his. The gesture surprises you. He’s never been that big on kissing, preferring to watch while he fucks you. But his mouth is on you now, his tongue hot and pressing against yours.
You wonder if it’s silly to think he’s kissing you out of appreciation for your reassurance.
Rafe’s spit coats your bottom lip, hands tight on you, cock moving in and out of you.
Your keep your arm around his shoulders and your other hand finds his cheek, cradling his jaw, pulling back to meet his eyes.
“Nobody can make me feel like you do,” you tell him, your breath shallow and weaving into your words. “Or make my body do the things it does with you.”
You don’t know where trying to make him feel better ends and wanting to get this off your chest begins, but the words keep spilling out of you.
“He touched my shoulder,” you breathe, “just my fucking shoulder, and I swear to God, I thought about how wrong it felt that it wasn’t you.”
Rafe’s softening eyes fixate on yours as he penetrates you. It’s like his anger is losing its burn right in front of you.
“I belong to you,” you say.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice deep. The inside of his forearm is pressed against the back of your knee as he holds you up, and his arm starts to fall and tremble. “Shit, shit, shit.”
You can tell he’s about to reach his orgasm - it’s another surprise. He always lasts much longer. You’re almost sure that the sweet words you’re whispering to him are having this effect.
His thrusts aren’t as rough, his expression not as hard. Rafe is no longer angry or determined to prove a point. He’s simply savoring the feeling of being in your pussy. A sense of pride fills you when you realize your reassurance is what calmed him down.
You watch him, restless to show him how much you want him.
“Let me swallow your cum,” you moan. He stops driving into you for a second, looking down at you with a smirk, dimples deep.
“Yeah?” he rasps.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
Rafe pulls out of you, lips parted as he huffs for air, and he watches you drop to your knees. Your eyes are on his as you hold his cock, putting him in your mouth.
He tilts forward, an arm leaning against the closet door.
Your lips are tight around him, your tongue swirling. You start to move faster, putting two hands on him, rolling your wrists as you suck his tip.
“Oh, my God,” Rafe says, his tone so gentle that it sounds like he’s thanking you. “You gonna swallow my whole load?”
“Yes,” you moan against his cock. You increase your pressure on his slick length, fingers tightening, mouth sucking harder.
This right here, bringing him to his climax, feels like the most important thing you’ll ever do.
His hot cum gushes out of him quickly, oozing into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. Your hands work him even faster, his cock twitching. Rafe looks down at you as you take everything he has to offer.
“Open your mouth,” he says. “I wanna see it in your mouth.”
You obey, parting your lips and tilting your head so you don’t lose a single drop.
“So fucking pretty,” he praises. You swallow and exhale in pleasure as the hot, salty liquid spills down your throat.
He leans to collect you off the floor, his hands scooping you up. You face him, pushing your dress down as he pulls the waistband to his sweatpants up to his hips.
“Let me guess,” you whisper with a small smile. “I can’t cum until later?”
Rafe looks down at you with gratification.
“Only ‘cause I’m gonna make you squirt again,” he tells you. You laugh at his promise, how casually he says something so vulgar.
The two of you share a smile, eyes locked, and the minute you’re living in together is so tender that you think if anyone could see you, they’d think this was a romantic moment, but it’s not, and you know you need to remember that.
“We could’ve gotten caught,” you say, pushing past him so you don’t have to be subjected to those beautiful fucking eyes any longer.
“I wouldn’t care,” Rafe says with a chuckle.
“Obviously you wouldn’t.” You open the dryer and start to unload the sheets you put in earlier. “But I’d lose my job.”
“Do you even need it?”
You still to look at him over your shoulder.
“Of course I do,” you laugh. Has he forgotten that not everyone has a trust fund? Does he think you enjoy living in your shoebox of an apartment?
“Even with… with what I’m giving you?” he asks. The $1000 cam shows, the extra tips, the random deposits he gives you all have put your bank account to a number you didn’t think you’d ever see, at least while you’re still a student.
But it’s not exactly a steady income like your cleaning job is. You don’t like to think about it, but Rafe could lose interest in you tomorrow for all you know. You can’t exactly rely on his money.
“Like that’ll last,” you say, trying to sound playful. “I still need a steady job, Rafe.” You just want to be honest. Fair. He doesn’t owe you loyalty, no matter how much you’d like it.
Rafe stuffs his hands into his pockets, hair hanging over his forehead as he looks down awkwardly.
Maybe it was too serious a thing to say. Maybe you sounded like you want him to make some sort of commitment, when he has shown you time and time again that you’re just a whore to him. A whore he gets off on owning.
The gentle, languid atmosphere you were sharing is now sharp, both of you stiff.
Suddenly, the door creaks open and you’re grateful for the interruption.
One of the other maids greets you with a nod, then when she notices Rafe, she looks confused to see him in the laundry room with you.
He silently walks past her, his tall frame pushing out the door, not looking at you again.
You spend the rest of your shift distracting yourself with work. Over your lunch break, you sit in the empty backyard, talking on the phone with one of your close friends about school and everything else outside of Rafe, not wanting to risk anyone overhearing anything about him.
Finally, it’s almost three o’clock, an hour left to your shift. You head to the second-storey lounge at the back of the estate to cross off what remains on your to-do list.
As you head down the corridor, the sounds of men’s voices grow louder. You recognize Rafe’s laugh, like a melody making your heart flutter.
You see through the lounge window that he and his friends are sitting out on the beach-facing balcony, day-drinking on a Wednesday afternoon. The relaxed life of the wealthy never ceases to amaze you.
This means his bedroom is empty. An idea strikes you suddenly. You’ll leave Rafe a present to get rid of the weird energy that grew between you earlier today.
You rush to sneak into his bedroom, shutting the door behind you. You keep the lights off, the afternoon sun peeking behind his blinds.
You take your phone out of your uniform’s front pocket and lean it on his bed frame. After you settle on your knees onto the soft mattress, you start to record a video and watch yourself in the small screen.
Inching the fabric of your dress up, you close your eyes as you think about Rafe. Your hand immediately presses between your legs.
“You were right, baby, I shouldn’t wear panties,” you whisper into the phone. “They just get soaked as soon as I think about you.”
You tilt to sit on your butt and pull your underwear down, then spread your legs open for the camera.
With your fingers running up and down your slit, you shut your eyes and let yourself daydream about Rafe.
“I don’t know where I like your cum the best,” you whisper into the empty room. “In my mouth, in my pussy, or in my ass. I want your cum everywhere… all over me.”
You dip a finger inside of you, letting you a soft moan. You think back to when he first confronted you in this very room, the way you pulled down the towel that sat around his hips down and tasted him for the first time.
“Remember when you came on my face right here on your bed?” you say.
You imagine him lying here and watching you on his screen.
“Fuck, the thought of you jerking off gets me so…” You almost get lost in the moment, let the orgasm pull you in, but you take your hand off yourself. It takes all the willpower you have not to finish, deciding to save yourself for tonight.
You notice your hands are shaking when you stop the recording. You’ll send it to him during your cam session tonight.
As a final treat for him, you leave your panties under his covers.
You set to walk out of the room, but when you see the t-shirt Rafe was wearing today strewn over his chair, you can’t fight the impulse to take it. You’ll wear it for him tonight.
You tuck it under your arm and drop it off in your bag before you head to the lounge to finish up your day of work.
Your heart is racing after what you just did.
When you see Rafe through the lounge window, sitting with a group of guys you’ve seen so many times before, leaning back with his long legs casually spread, you imagine straddling his lap like you did last night.
The sun is casting an orange glow on the planes of his handsome face and… God, you need to stop staring at him.
It’s just sex, you tell yourself. Just kinky, intense, unforgettable sex with a guy who occasionally has a soft side to him. That’s it.
You start to water the plants laid out across the sill, glancing up every so often to look at Rafe.
When he finally notices you, his expression seems to relax, eyes dancing over you.
He eventually drops his gaze, continuing his conversation with his friends, surely trying to play it off in case anyone caught him looking at you like that.
He wouldn’t have told his buddies he was hooking up with you, would he? Or maybe he would, keen to brag how he was fucking the help?
You finish up cleaning the room and you know it’ll torture him, but he loves to put you through crazy shit, so you return the favor.
Instead of waiting until later tonight, you send Rafe the video you just took along with a text: keep your sound off unless you want your friends to hear me moan.
You watch him through the window, waiting for him to feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Excitement buzzes through you when he shifts back, pulling his phone out.
He looks at the screen. Sharp blue eyes pierce you, the subtle shake of his head seeming like a warning. You watch his fingers press the side of his phone, muting his sound.
Rafe brings his phone up closer to his face, sinking back a bit to prevent anyone from seeing his screen.
He only lasts a few seconds of the minute-long video. You watch him awkwardly shuffle in his seat, adjusting his groin. He brings the phone down, his lips pursed in irritation as he gazes at you.
If looks could kill.
He texts you: are you fucking serious?
You smile at your phone and reply: oh and i think i forgot my panties in your bed. you can give them to me later. my shift’s over :) see you at 10.
You’re still riding the power trip when you’re sitting on your bed with your laptop open that night, wearing nothing but his shirt. It smells so damn good.
“Hey, baby,” you coo when Rafe joins the session, right on time. You run your hands up your body, squeezing your chest over his shirt. “I stole something today.”
figure8: thief
“It’s just so soft,” you giggle.
figure8: you’re in so much trouble for that fucking video
“I’m sorry,” you laugh. “Did you like it at least?”
figure8: of course i did
figure8: if you wanted my cum all over you, why didnt you just say so
The thought of Rafe covering you in his hot cum makes your stomach tighten. You shrug.
figure8: ur panties smell like you
You lick your lips, imagining him smelling the underwear you left for him. You start to rub your hard nipples over the soft material of his shirt.
Whatever happened in the laundry room is now a distant memory. Thankfully, you two are back in your groove.
figure8: stretch yourself open
You spread your legs for him, pulling apart your lips, the camera capturing you.
figure8: so fucking perfect
You tilt your head, flattered.
figure8: get urself close to cumming and tell me what ur thinking about like u did in ur slutty little video
You lean back, one hand holding you up while the other rests on your pussy. You start to rub up and down, watching yourself in the camera.
“Every time I’m in front of you like this, I’m thinking about how you’re touching yourself,” you say. “The thought of you jerking off is just so fucking hot to me.”
figure8: doing it right now
“Fuck,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “What do you think about when you do it?”
figure8: how good you feel around my cock
“Yeah?” you say. “Which part of me?”
figure8: your pussy is my favorite to think about
“That’s my favorite place for you to be, too.”
figure8: yeah you never want me to pull out
“Shut up,” you laugh.
figure8: my needy girl
You keep rubbing your clit, your breaths starting to get faster as you think about how he stayed inside you as long as you wanted last night.
figure8: keep talking baby what are u thinking about
“Last night, the…” you sigh in longing. “The way you kept your cock in me after I squirted on you.”
figure8: u did such a good job
“Yeah?” you purr. You want to keep playing along, but it’s almost hurting at this point.
“Rafe… please, can you just come over?” you plead.
figure8: u can wait. keep playing with your clit and talking to me
You groan in frustration. He’s always keeping you on your toes like this, controlling your orgasms.
“I want your cock, baby, please,” you moan. “I want you to fuck me. Please just come over already.”
His next message makes you sigh a breath of relief.
figure8: only because u took my load so good today
figure8: keep your computer on your bed
figure8 tipped you $1000.
figure8 has left the session.
You wonder what the hell he has planned.
When Rafe arrives, he kisses you hard like he did earlier today, and even though it feels so fucking nice, you’re worried about the effect it’s having on you.
You pull away just to give yourself a breath and take his hand, leading him to your room.
When Rafe takes his jeans off, he throws his wallet at the foot of your bed.
“On your stomach,” he orders. He moves your pillow to the centre of your bed. “And get on your computer.”
You obey, allowing him to guide you to rest your pelvis on the pillow, anticipating what he’ll do to you. You feel Rafe settle behind you, fully naked. He pulls up your shirt - really, his shirt - and his hand glides over the curve of your raised bare ass.
You feel a hard slap on your skin and you yelp.
“That’s for sending me that fucking video when I was with my friends,” he chastises. “Getting me fucking hard like that… Jesus.”
“Sorry, baby,” you laugh. You’re not sorry at all.
He spanks you once more, the pain burning. You feel him shuffle again, opening his wallet in front of you next to your open laptop.
“You’re gonna buy whatever you want with my credit card while I fuck you,” he says.
You’re floored.
“Rafe,” you say in disbelief. “I don’t… I don’t even know what I’d get.”
“Then, think,” he says. “Get yourself a new computer.”
You look at your laptop. It is a pretty old model.
“This is…” You truly don’t have the words. Is he doing this because of your tense conversation earlier today? Or is it just one of his fantasies?
You moan when you feel him press his tip against your cunt.
You’re staring at your screen, in awe of all of this. In awe of him.
“Come on, baby,” Rafe encourages. He slowly drags himself into you, his hips eventually hitting your lower back when he gives you all of him.
Fingers trembling, you pull a black credit card out of his wallet and open a browser on your laptop, eager to please him. This is so different than anything you’ve done with anyone before.
You follow his instructions and simply search ‘laptop’. A string of links come up.
“Don’t cheap out,” he tells you. “Get the most expensive one.” He’s fucking you so damn slowly, surely to keep both of you from cumming.
You’re full of his cock while you click the highest price tag you find. This cost is nothing to him.
It’s nearly impossible to type in his credit card information, your name, your address, while he sinks in and out of you.
When a window pops up asking if the credit card information should be saved, his big hand is suddenly on top of yours, selecting ‘Save.’
The order goes through.
“Good girl,” he says. He sits up again, his arms supporting him, trapping your hips. “What do you want next, huh? A purse? Shoes?”
“I… I don’t know,” you admit. “I only ever buy things I need.”
“What you need is to be spoiled,” he says sternly.
This is an entirely new sensation - having no reservations, no budget while shopping. You decide to look for purses next and a $1800 designer bag catches your eye. You hover over it.
“Get it,” he tells you. You add it to your cart and set up next-day shipping. It’s an unbelievable thrill. “Keep going.”
You’re bobbing on your elbows as he continues to fuck you. He pauses a few times, warming his cock in you.
Next, you decide to buy two pairs of shoes and clothes you only imagined you’d see in a closet in a house that you’re cleaning.
Rafe is groaning behind you and you feel his weight shift on you, his chest pressing against your back.
“You wanna buy some lingerie?” His hot breath tickles the back of your ear.
“That’s more for you than me, isn’t it?” you tease.
“So?” he asks. You giggle and visit the first lingerie website you can think of. It comes up on your screen with an array of beautiful girls modelling the merchandise.
“Don’t look at these girls,” you joke, but really, you’re jealous of the thought of him lusting after another woman.
“Why the fuck would I look at…” he breathes, not finishing his sentence as he thrusts into you.
You find a white, lacy set. You buy it and at this point, you can’t take it anymore. You need him to fuck you for real.
You shuffle under him, trying to get up.
“You’re not done,” he laughs.
“If you don’t let me cum, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” you beg.
“One more thing,” he teases. He shifts to type with one hand, navigating to a sex toy website. “Whatever you want.”
You scroll through and a curved, blue vibrator intrigues you. You’ve always seen rigid, straight ones, but the thought of this one inside you is exciting.
“This one,” you say. You order it, then finally, shut your laptop in desperation. His hand trails down your spine once he pulls out. It makes you whine. You were hoping he’d start fucking you harder.
“Rafe,” you groan. You turn over on your back, looking up as he sits over you, the tip of his erect cock hitting hit stomach.
“You want my cum all over you, don’t you?” he taunts.
“You said you were gonna make me squirt again.”
“Fuck,” he laughs. “You’re so desperate, oh my God. I will. Relax.”
He’s right. You have never been hungrier for him.
“You get so fucking turned on being my sugar baby, don’t you?” he asks.
You nod - if you didn’t have this kink already, you sure do now.
“I wanna see your tits covered in my cum,” he groans. You nod, pulling his shirt up off of you.
Rafe is sitting over you, his hand stroking up and down his length. The sight is so fucking intoxicating.
“You like watching me jerk off? This is better than imagining it, isn’t it?”
“Yes, baby,” you tell him.
You squeeze your tits together, your eyes locked on his dick. He starts to stroke faster, his hips bucking.
“Shit.” His voice is hoarse as he grunts, his eyes squeezing shut.
His cum spills out into ropes on your chest and he’s whimpering as he empties his balls onto you. He collapses, holding himself up over you.
When he opens his eyes again, you make sure he’s watching you as you run a finger up your breast, collecting some of his cum, and bring it to your mouth to taste him.
“You’re so hot,” he says, his chuckle one of disbelief. “I’m gonna taste you, too. Sit up there.” He points to your bed frame.
Your back is soon pressed against the frame, your legs spread for him. Rafe picks up the rose toy from your drawer and settles onto his front, his head between your thighs.
The way he’s starting to know his way around your room makes your cheeks warm.
He runs his thumb up your middle, licking his lips as he watches you.
“Goddamn, princess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking swollen,” he murmurs.
“It hurts,” you whine, your clit throbbing with need. You’ve been aching for him since this morning.
“I’ll make it better,” he promises. He leans forward, trailing his flattened tongue from your cunt up to your clit.
Nothing in the fucking world beats this feeling.
When Rafe places the toy against your clit, the suction triggers pleasure to roll through you. He leans down to push his tongue into your hole.
You gaze at him in awe. You take him in, his head bobbing between your legs, his broad shoulders flexing, his right leg hiked up and his left leg partly hanging off your small bed.
The knot in your stomach tightens and it feels like last night, like you’re gonna explode again.
“Rafe, don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t…” You impulsively squeeze his head between your thighs, and the grunt that he lets out onto your pussy tells you how hot he finds this, too.
“That’s it,” he says, muffled. “Cum on my tongue.”
You feel like you shatter from the inside, a choked sob erupting from you. He forces his head back, your thighs pushed away, so he can look at you. He takes the toy away, replacing it with his thumb.
The sight of your juices splashing onto his face, the depraved smile he’s wearing while you squirt on him in spurts, is something you know you’ll never forget. Every fucking second with him is like a dream.
You tilt your head back, chest heaving. You feel him pat your sensitive pussy with a satisfied laugh.
“My good fucking girl,” Rafe praises. You meet his eyes, his face shimmering with your cum.
“Fuck,” you whisper. “What you’re doing to me is… fuck…” You don’t have the words.
“You’re so fucking cute,” he says. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
“What?” you breathe your laugh.
“I brought you something.” Rafe sits up and you wonder what in the hell this man, who has given you absolutely everything but his heart, could possibly have for you this time.
{ read part nine here }
author’s note: credit and THANK YOU to this anon for suggesting this idea!!! YOU GENIUS. i owe u my life
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"Ravenous" - Aemond Targaryen x Hightower Cousin!Reader
Summary: When Aemond said that once the two of you are wed he won't let you leave your marital bed for a week, he meant it.
TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, loss of v*rginity, mild religion k*nk, purity culture, overstim, oral f receiving, f*ngering, p in v sex, breeding k*nk, size k*nk if you squint, corruption k*nk
Word Count: 5,000 words
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️
When Prince Aemond Targaryen is betrothed to the young Lady Hightower, the daughter of his uncle, Ser Gwayne, he is less than enthused. He has heard of you, a meek, shy little thing who clings to your mother’s skirts and can always be found praying in some sept or the other. The idea of being married to you sounds, to him, like an utter and absolute bore. He hopes, as your carriage arrives at the entrance of the Red Keep, that you at least are not as unattractive as he has pictured you in his mind’s eye. He watches as your father disembarks from the carriage first, greeting Queen Alicent and Lord Otto first, and then the rest of the rest of the family. Your mother, Lady Hightower, exits next, her head held high. She is a stern-looking woman, Aemond muses, and thinks that this does not bode well for him as far as you are concerned.
And then, he sees you.
You move out of the carriage, a cloak draped around your shoulders, hiding from his view until you remove the hood, revealing your gorgeous dark curly hair, your gorgeous doe eyes, your full lips that look so very kissable. Gods, he can’t stop looking at those lips, unable to utter so much as a greeting, just imagining how wonderful they’d look wrapped around his-
“Good day, cousin,” you speak in a soft, sweet voice, barely above a whisper as your lady’s maid takes your cloak, revealing your form to him.
Aemond’s throat goes dry and he does not reply for a long moment, eyeing you with a lustful gaze, admiring the way your gown is cut, allowing him to admire the swell of your breasts as you breathe, the curve of your hips as you approach him and bend into a curtsy, giving him an even better view. Your Seven Pointed Star necklace is nestled in your cleavage and he watches as you take it between your delicate fingers, fiddling with it, something he assumes is a nervous habit.
“Are you well, Your Grace?” you ask in that same dulcet voice, your tone now displaying some concern due to his lack of response.
He keeps looking at you, biting his lip as he imagines all the things he wishes to do with you right in this moment, before finally answering, his voice low and smooth, “I am well, my lady. And you? I trust your journey was pleasant.”
“I am well, cousin, and the journey went smoothly by the Seven’s grace, though I am quite tired,” you pause before speaking, “Since it is well past suppertime, I was just going to visit the royal sept to say my evening prayers before retiring for the evening.”
Aemond doesn’t bother to tear his lascivious gaze from your chest, watching it rise and fall with your every breath, straining against the confines of your bodice, “I am happy to hear that, my lady. Might I accompany you for your prayers?”
You meet his eye for a moment before averting your gaze, bowing your head, “As you wish, my prince.”
Aemond offers you his arm, watching as you turn to your parents as if seeking their approval. Your mother frowns slightly but your father nods, smiling at you and urging you on. You take Aemond’s arm and he begins leading you to the sept.
You startle slightly when he turns to you, his face startlingly close to yours as he asks, “Are you a devout servant of the Seven, my lady?”
You nod, answering him quietly, “Yes, my prince. I had considered becoming a septa before our betrothal was announced.”
Aemond gives you a wry smile, the thought of you as a septa being somewhat erotic to him in some strange way, “If such a beautiful woman became a septa, it would be a true loss for the realm. The men would weep, or at least I would.”
His words flatter you and you resist the urge to giggle, instead smiling shyly, “Thank you, my prince.”
Aemond gazes at your lips from the corner of his eye. Soft and full and the color just screaming “kiss me”. As if they were made for a man’s kiss, and he is the man to do it. He keeps his eye on you as the two of you walk through the Red Keep, nearing the sept, flickering between your lips and your cleavage. Aemond smirks to himself as he grows hard in his breeches, brushing the evidence of his arousal against you as the two of you enter the sept, reveling in the quiet gasp you let out.
He stares at you intently as the two of you approach the altar and you light a candle, bowing your head in prayer, repeating the names of the Seven. He doesn’t close his eye. He simply stares at you as your lips form the words and thinks of nothing but you and the things he wishes to do to you. You place a gold dragon in the collection box and stand up, waiting for Aemond to escort you to your chambers. He watches the way your hips move as you walk. He takes your arm again and the two of you walk to your chambers in silence.
You turn to him, gazing up at him with those sweet, innocent eyes as you murmur, “Thank you for the escort, my prince. Goodnight.”
Aemond watches as you close the door, standing in front of it for a long moment. He wonders what to do. Should he knock and ask if he can enter? No, he’d be a fool for doing that. He has to play it safe, even if every fiber of his being is crying for him to open the door and make you his. He turns on his heel and leaves, resolved to return to his chambers and relieve himself while imagining it is your soft, petite hand doing the task for him.
The next morning, he sees you at breakfast, seated between his mother and sister, looking the picture of innocence, a sweet maiden ready to be claimed by a hungry dragon. He stares at you, his gaze lingering on your mouth, your bosom-
“Good morrow, my prince,” comes your sweet greeting as you stand, curtsying to greet him.
He doesn’t reply for a moment, wondering if it would be too improper to just bend you over the table and claim you in full view of everyone present, but restrains himself and answers, his voice a low rasp, “Good morrow to you too, my lady.”
After saying a prayer, everyone present begins to eat. Aemond’s gaze is drawn to you, the way you pick a strawberry up from your plate and begin eating it, the way it disappears between your plump lips, the juices from it dribbling down your fingers. It’s kind of adorable, he thinks. And then? He sees you glance around, to make sure no one’s watching, before you lick your fingers clean. He lets out a low groan, one that luckily goes unheard by the others at the table, and barely manages to make it through breakfast. When the meal is over, he walks to you, offering you his hand.
“My lady,” he murmurs.
You startle slightly, looking like a frightened fawn as he gazes at you with that intense blue eye, “Yes my prince?”
“Would you like to accompany me for a walk in the gardens? I wish to speak with you privately,” he says, taking your hand in his, helping you to your feet.
The two of you walk to the gardens, and he leads you deeper and deeper inside until you’re far from anyone’s wandering eyes. You seem a bit skittish, he thinks, as you glance around.
“Is it appropriate for us to be here without a chaperone?” you ask a bit timidly.
“Do not worry, my lady,” he whispers in your ear as the two of you come to a stop, “I simply wanted to discuss something with you.”
“Oh,” you nod in acknowledgement, gazing up at him with those devastating doe eyes, “As you wish, my prince.”
“Do you recall,” Aemond asks quietly, not letting go of your hand as he stares at your lips, “When we prayed to the Seven in the sept just last night?”
You nod, your free hand moving up to fiddle with your necklace once again, “Yes, my prince, I do.”
Aemond takes a step closer to you, leaving only the slightest bit of room between your bodies, his eye moving to your breasts, “Do you know, sweet girl, what the Seven Pointed Star says about what a man and woman do in their marriage bed?”
He watches as you bite your lip, looking away from him as you respond, “Yes, my prince. The union between a husband and wife is a holy thing. A celebration of the gods’ love for us.”
Aemond’s hands move to your waist, pulling you flush up against him. He revels in the tiny gasp you let out as your chest makes contact with his, the way your breath comes out in soft little pants. You’re simply adorable when you’re nervous, he muses.
“I want us to celebrate that act of love, here and now.”
You freeze, looking up at him, your eyes wide with shock, “Surely, my prince, you do not mean-”
Aemond’s hands move lower, caressing your hips as he barely holds back the moan that threatens to escape his lips, “My lady, I must insist. You are the perfect woman and I believe the gods blessed me the day they betrothed you to me.”
You attempt to reason with him, though his touch has made it quite difficult for you to think straight, “My prince, we are indeed betrothed, but we are not yet wed. To lie together before being married would be a direct affront to the Seven.”
He leans in, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair, like jasmine and roses, before whispering, “I know, my lady, but I cannot control myself. The mere sight of you drives me mad. Can you blame me for succumbing to my desire for you?”
You attempt to step back and keep some distance between yourself and the handsome prince, “Your Grace, please, our wedding ceremony is in only a fortnight, I implore you-”
He presses you up against the pillar behind you, grinding himself against your soft body, so pliant in his hands, “Yes, our wedding is in a fortnight from now,” he whispers in your ear, “But the wedding is not about you and me. Only for the eyes of the king and the court. But what of the feelings I have for you?” Aemond looks at you imploringly, “I cannot control them. Surely, as a good pious woman, you believe that love is a virtue and not meant to be controlled.”
“Yes, but it is our duty to resist our lustful urges-”
Aemond rolls his hips against yours, causing you to cut yourself off with a gasp as he speaks, his lips ghosting along your neck, his breath tickling your skin, “You are a cruel, cruel woman, my lady. Denying me your body. I want, nay, I need to claim you now.”
You shake your head vehemently, ignoring the how good it feels to have him this close to you, how intoxicating his presence is, “You will bring your honor upon both yourself and upon me, my prince,” you gaze up at him softly, “‘Tis only a fortnight more.”
Aemond heaves a deep sigh and nods, resting his forehead against yours, “Very well, my lady. But,” he moves his hand to your chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger, your lips nearly touching, your breath intermingling, “The moment you become my bride, I will ravage you like a dragon in a frenzy.”
You feel your face warm at his words, whispering softly, “That is a very vivid description, my prince.”
Aemond nose brushes along your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear, “I can tell you all about how I’m going to ravage you in vivid detail if you’d like, my lady,” he smirks as your lips part in anticipation of what he is about to say, “I can tell you about how I am going to hold you in my arms and kiss those beautiful pouting lips. I can tell you how I will kiss you for hours, until your lips are swollen. I can describe the way your breasts will heave as I push you against the wall and claim you,” you whimper slightly as he nips at your earlobe before continuing, running his thumb over your plump lower lip, “I shall start by carrying you to our chambers and close the door. I will pin you against the wall and kiss you passionately, moving to your neck, then your chest, then back to your lips. I will move slowly, caressing your thighs and your hips. I shall lift your dress and then I shall taste you,” he smirks at the audible gasp you let out at his words, “I will kiss you where no one has kissed you before. Your body is meant to be mine and mine alone.”
You gaze up at him, leaning into his touch as he cups your face in his hands, “My prince… I…”
Aemond stares at you, his gaze ablaze with passion, “You are as beautiful as the morning spring and you should be treated as such. When you wed me, sweet girl, you will no longer be an innocent lady but my woman. And as your man I intend to taste the sweetness of your body,” he chuckles, turning your face back to him when you attempt to turn away, “Do you want that, sweet girl? Do you want to feel my lips on your body, my tongue buried in your sweet little cunny?” Aemond’s lewd words nearly offend you, but they fascinate you far more, “Do you want to feel yourself in a man’s arms for the first time in your life? The way your heart will pound and your legs will shake, your breath growing heavy in the moment I make you reach your peak? Your first kiss, your first time, all with me.”
You admit, in a soft, breathy voice that drives him mad with want, “Yes…”
“Good,” he all but growls into your ear, “I will be the first to touch your beautiful, soft skin. The one who takes your innocence. I will touch everywhere there is to touch and I will bring you the greatest pleasure you have ever felt, leaving you just as ravenous for my touch as I am for yours. Won’t you grant me,” he leans in, “Just one kiss from those sweet lips of yours?”
You gaze up at him, lips parted as your eyes meet his, entranced, “I…”
Aemond presses his lips against yours, silencing any protests you may have, his mouth hungry for yours. He crushes you to his chest, nipping at your lower lip, snaking his tongue into your mouth when you gasp in surprise, moving it against yours with an almost feverish intensity, moaning against your lips.
The two of you finally part for air, gazing at each other, breathless. You hear your mother calling for you in the distance and immediately pull away from Aemond, knowing the lecture you will receive even for something as seemingly innocent as a kiss.
“We will continue this later,” Aemond promises, running the back of his hand along the bare skin of your arm, “You must go with your mother and I will find mine.”
You part from Aemond, your mind in a daze about all of the words he spoke to you, the promises he made about what he will do to you. You manage to avoid being alone with him for the most part in the days leading up to the wedding, though you can always feel his gaze on you, hungry and wanting, lingering.
When the day of the wedding arrives and you make your way down the aisle, dressed in a fine gown made of white silk that clings to your form, Aemond’s gaze is locked on you. He watches as you walk toward him, the way your gown covers yet accentuates the curves of your body, the sweet look on your face making him want nothing more than to whisk you away to your marriage bed. He can barely contain himself as the septon says his words, the two of you following suit. The two of you keep sneaking glances at each other, locking gazes, a small smile playing on your lips.
“You are all mine, my lady,” he whispers in your ear as he wraps his cloak around you bringing you under his protection.
“Indeed I am, husband,” you smile up at him softly, your fingers intertwining.
As the two of you walk toward the feasting hall, Aemond gazes at your lips, “Shall we retire to our chambers?”
“There is an entire feast we must attend in honor of our wedding, my husband,” you remind him gently.
Aemond nods absently, but he is not thinking about your wedding feast at all. All he can think about is you.
“I cannot wait to claim you in our marriage bed, my pretty wife. When we reach it, I shan’t let you leave it for a week.”
You feel the back of your neck heat up at your husband’s words, “And so you shall, husband, just be a patient a while longer.”
He chuckles darkly as the two of you enter the hall and are applauded, making your way to your seats of honor, “That’s the problem, my lady. I am not a patient man.”
The wedding feast goes on, the tension between you and Aemond growing by the minute. He rests his hand over yours, moving his thumb against the back of your palm, moving to your pulse point every so often, feeling it. At some point, his nephew, Prince Jacaerys, comes to your table and asks you for a dance, considering you have been seated for the entirety of the evening’s festivities. You turn to Aemond, silently asking if he minds. He nods, gesturing for you to dance with Jace. However, the longer the dance goes on, the more he feels like his blood is boiling beneath his skin, Jace’s hands on your waist as the two of you move, the stupid bastard. What right does he have to touch you?
Aemond decides to walk over to the two of you, a curious silence falling over the hall as he takes your hand, “My lady, may I cut in? I wish to have our first dance as husband and wife.”
You nod happily as Aemond takes you into his arms and leads you in a dance, all eyes in the room on the beautiful couple, who look completely enchanted by each other as they spin across the room.
He scarcely lets you out of his sight the rest of the feast, and soon enough? It is time for the two of you to retire to your chambers. You take a tremulous breath as Aemond lifts you into his arms, just as he promised, and carries you all the way to the room you will now share as man and wife. His arms feel so very strong around you as he holds you, the walk feeling both impossibly long and not long enough with the anxiety and excitement rising inside you.
A lady’s maid waits in the room to disrobe you, but Aemond dismisses her, setting you down so that you may stand, “I shall do it myself. We have no need of you.”
You give the girl a sheepish, apologetic smile as she leaves, seeming scandalized by the whole ordeal. Aemond closes the door, turning to face you once more. He walks toward you with all the grace of an apex predator, stalking its prey. He moves to undo your wedding gown, turning you so that your back is to him. He undoes the laces, one by one, admiring as the skin of your back is revealed to him little by little. He runs the back of his fingers along your spine, reveling in the way you shiver at his touch. The dress falls to the ground in a crumpled heap, leaving you in only your thin slip. Aemond presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, moving your curls aside, then moves his lips along your shoulders, down the length of your arm. He turns you to face him and removes his tunic, revealing his well-muscled chest and torso.
You decide to move your hands to undo his breeches and Aemond admires the way your hands look as they deftly undo the laces. His pants fall to the ground, leaving him fully bare before you. It is your first time ever seeing a man like this, and the size of his length is intimidating. You absently wonder how that is meant to fit inside you, with how long and thick he is. Aemond moves toward you, moving his hands to the thin straps that hold your slip up, unfastening them and watching as your bare form is finally revealed to him. Your breasts, so full and round, meant to be caressed by his hands, your stomach, your shoulders, your thighs… He does not know what he did to deserve such a beautiful wife, but he will not question it.
“Lie back on the bed,” he instructs you, removing his eyepatch and setting it on the nightstand.
You admire the way his sapphire glows in the candlelight and Aemond delights in the fact that you do not shrink away from him in disgust after he bares himself to you. It makes him feel like a man worthy of you.
You heed his directions and lay back on the bed, watching as he crawls over you, his hands moving up your calves, squeezing the supple flesh of your thighs as he parts your legs, revealing you to him fully. He takes your foot in his hand, pressing a kiss to your ankle, leaving a trail of kisses along the inside of your leg, up your thigh, before he tastes you, just as he promised. You nearly cry out with surprise as you feel his tongue licking a stripe along your entrance. It feels almost unbearably pleasurable and you find yourself moving away from him, unsure what to do with yourself. But, again, your husband surprises you by moving your thighs so that they rest on his shoulders as he moves his mouth against you. You feel his tongue delve inside you as he lets out a low moan at your taste, the vibration from it driving you even more mad with want. With one hand you grasp at the sheets, desperately trying to find purchase, while your other hand tangles itself in his hair.
You feel the pleasure building in your stomach, like a dam getting ready to burst, and when it does, you all but scream Aemond’s name as your body writhes in the throes of ecstasy. Aemond, however, is not done tasting you, it would seem, and he moves to take your swollen pearl between his lips, suckling at it. Aemond smirks at the sound of your mewls as you try to squirm away from him, but to no avail. He makes you peak not once, but twice more by playing with your pearl alone.
When his lips finally part from your cunny, he kisses you, a searing hot kiss full of passion as his hand wraps in your hair, pulling you close to him, kissing you as though he wishes to consume your very being. Your chest is pressed flush against his and he moves his lips to your neck, biting down, his tongue laving attention over the abused skin, soothing it. Aemond’s lips move to your breasts, squeezing them in his hands, caressing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs, smirking as they pebble under his touch. He moves his lips to take one in his mouth, causing you to let out a soft moan at the sensation, your eyes meeting his as he gazes up at you, a smirk clearly playing at the corner of his lips as he suckles at your breast. He switches to your neglected breast, before tracing his fingers along the inside of your thighs, up to your core.
You whimper slightly as he pushes one finger inside you. The sensation is so very foreign but incredible as you feel him teasing your cunt. Then, he adds a second finger, preparing you to take his cock no doubt, moving them in and out of you in a crooked motion, rubbing against a spot deep inside of you that you, in your inexperience, have never quite been able to reach. The pleasure he’s giving you is intense, especially as he adds a third finger, and you feel something inside you is about to burst.
His thumb moves to press down on your still sensitized pearl and with a cry of his name, you soak his fingers with your arousal, watching as it spills on his fingers. At first you panic, thinking that something else has happened, but Aemond moves his fingers to his lips, moaning at the taste as he licks at them before pushing them between your own lips. You taste yourself on him, your tongue moving along his fingers, curious and almost kitten-like.
Aemond chuckles, “Your lips will look so beautiful wrapped around my cock, sweet girl. But tonight is about you, my wife.”
He pushes you back to lay down on the bed, positioning himself between your legs. You know the moment has come for him to take your maidenhead, at least figuratively. The septa confirmed that you shall not bleed since you broke it riding, like many noble ladies do. You watch as Aemond gives his cock a quick stroke before slowly pressing the head against your core. You close your eyes as he fills you, moving slowly, inch by glorious inch of his cock entering you, the pain minimal due to the lengths he went to prepare you. You feel his every vein, every ridge, as he pushes into you, bottoming out inside of you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand resting on your cheek.
“Are you hurting?” he asks you seriously, his silver hair falling like a curtain around the two of you, shading you from the world in this little room you call your own, your own little world of sorts, “Tell me if I can move, sweet girl.”
After a moment, you nod, “Yes, husband. Please.”
He grins at you devilishly before snapping his hips against yours, watching as you throw your head back against your pillow and cry out his name, pleading for more. Gods, you make the prettiest sounds, he muses, and your cunt is so wet and tight and perfect around him.
“Feels like you were made just for me,” he growls as he slams his hips into you, over and over, his stones growing tight and heavy as they slap against your ass with each thrust, “Gods, I could stay buried inside this perfect little cunt forever. Would you like that, my love?”
“Yes,” you say, nearly sobbing with pleasure as your legs wrap around his hips, allowing him to pound into you deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you feel as though you’ve ascended to the Seven Heavens themselves.
“My perfect little wife,” Aemond hisses, feeling you squeezing around him, “I’m going to fill you with my seed, over and over, breed you the way a good husband should. Watch you grow fat with my child, watch your tits swell with milk for our babe. You want that, don’t you? For me to breed you? For my spend to leak out from your tight little cunt?”
His words are downright filthy, but you cannot bring yourself to care as he continues fucking you, “Yes, husband, please fill me with your seed, Gods, Aemond, please-”
Aemond feels you tighten around him, knowing you will soon reach your peak and picks up his pace, enjoying the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips, the way your eyes are glazed over with desire as they gaze up at him, and your sweet lips parted as you moan out his name. You reach your peak, your walls hugging his cock tightly, prompting him to spill his seed deep inside you, filling you up just as he promised. He stays like that for a moment, sheathed inside you until he begins to soften and pulls out. He hears the way you pant for breath and pulls you into his embrace, holding you tightly.
“That was incredible,” you say softly as he tucks you under his chin.
“It was indeed, my sweet girl,” Aemond purrs, “And there will be more of it,” he pauses before looking at you, his gaze earnest, “I love you, my beautiful wife. I may not be the most gentle of men, but I will care for you and protect you as a dragon does.”
“I would ask for nothing less, my husband,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his chest, “I love you too.”
When you wake the next morning, Aemond is still asleep. Choosing not to wake your husband, you crawl out of bed and call for a maidservant to run you a bath. While you stand and wait, you’re shocked when you’re pushed up against the wall, your bare breasts pressed against the wood of the door.
“I promised you that you wouldn’t be leaving our bed for a week, my love,” Aemond purrs seductively, “And I assure you I meant it.”
You let out a contented sigh as he keeps his promise.
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Price finds her in the equipment room doing a rather meticulous job of cleaning their weapons, but he also notices that the only set she currently has out, is none other than the side-arm and knives owned by their resident Lieutenant.
“Quite rare to see you here on a Friday night,” he says, taking a seat across from her, grabbing an oiled rag to start cleaning with. “Shouldn’t you be going out with Gaz and Soap for drinks?”
She pauses, looks up and then lowers her gaze back to the firing pin she’s cleaning. “Didn’t feel like going out tonight, Captain.”
“Didn’t feel like it or didn’t feel like seeing ‘you know who?’”
“You know?” She asks and he shrugs.
“It’s my job to know everything that happens within the one-four-one.”
“I thought that was Miss Kate’s job?”
Price smiles. “We share responsibility.” He methodically rubs the rag along the parts of the side-arm, his expression and voice becoming rather calm but she feels the air turn a little stern, if almost a fatherly stern. “You’ve been avoiding him.”
She makes a noise in her throat. “I can’t exactly talk to him. Look what happened last time.”
“He feels bad.”
“I’m sure he does,” she retorts, looking at him. “He really hurt my feelings. What am I supposed to do, tell him it’s okay? That we can move on like he didn’t tell me I’m clingy?” She stops, looks down at her hands. “I sound like a fucking child.”
Price hums. “You actually sound like a person who’s had their feelings hurt and you’re not sure how to proceed.” He dips the rag in a big more oil. “I know it doesn’t equate what he’s said to you, but allow me to fill in some blanks you might have on Simon.”
She cocks a brow. “Okay?”
“Simon was the oldest child of two. Abusive dad, terrified mom. Younger brother used to terrorize him too.” He goes back to cleaning the gun parts. “Nine-eleven had Simon enlisting, came back after a lull, kicked his dad out, got his brother sober and even found himself the proud uncle of a nephew named Joseph.”
“Where are they now?” She asks. “Simon’s from Birmingham, right?”
“He is,” he answers, but his face and voice are void of any hope. “But they’re not anymore.”
She blinks, feels the shift in temperature. “They…moved?” She hopes; he meets her gaze, and she knows instantly. “Oh…I…how did it…”
“I don’t want to divulge Simon’s past without his permission, because it’s also his own choice to tell you what happened, but I can tell you that Simon had a personal vendetta against the man and others who hurt his family. And he took care of it.” Price inhales and exhales. “In doing so…Simon sacrificed himself. He made himself—“
“A Ghost,” she finishes, and he nods.
“Simon, when it comes down to what he truly is beneath his cold stoicism, my dear, is simply a very tired and even more broken-hearted man who believes that if he keeps everything and everyone at a distance, then nothing can hurt him.” Price sets the weapon and rag down. “He likes to think he’s incapable of feeling but don’t let his demeanor or words fool you, Simon feels more deeply for the people he loves more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Something aches in her chest, rising up to close around her throat as she asks, “A man like him…he can still love?”
He smiles half-heartedly. “I’ve seen the man run back through a burning building to pull Gaz out. I’ve seen him run through gunfire, take a bullet to the thigh and keep going to carry Soap.” He nudges her under the table. “I’ve even seen him pull your ass out of even stickier situations. If we viewed Simon how he wanted us to view him, it’d be easy to call him a heartless bastard. But he isn’t as heartless as he wishes he was.”
“That just shows he’s doing his job as our superior officer,” she counters weakly. “He’s doing it because it’s his duty to get his subordinates out.”
“Does it ever just feel like that?”
“…no.”
Price gazes on her like a father to his daughter with her first heartbreak. “What do you feel right now, puffin?”
She purses her lips, looks down at the various weapons on the table before she admits, “I’m still hurt. His words keep replaying in my mind. I’m clingy and I’m always around.” She fiddles with the fraying hem of the rag. “That I’m a bother.”
“Would it make a difference if I told you that I don’t think such things?”
She shrugs.
Price blinks, reaches up and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You can be very excitable. Sometimes, I think you let it get the better of you and you often forget that others don’t always have the same personality as you.”
“Excitable is the polite way of saying annoying.”
“If I wanted to say you were annoying, I would’ve. You genuinely are a good and wholesome person, my dear. But you have to remember that everyone has a different level of extroversion. Sometimes, we have to tone it down a bit.” He meets her gaze and she knows his is full of honesty. “Simon doesn’t actually hate you. And he probably feels a tad bit of annoyance, but then again, he always does regardless of who it is, because Simon hates anything that makes noise. But I also know that he feels bad for what he did and said to you—and he wants to make it right.”
She takes in his words. “Do I need to engage him first? Extend some olive branch for peace?”
Price rises from the table and smiles, walks around and pats her shoulder. “Nah, let him come to you.”
“You really think he will?”
“I do. He knows what he’s gotta do and he’ll do it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. But he’ll be skittish. He’s like a newborn deer.” He winks. “Let him mull over how he wants to do it. As for you,” he points at her. “You’ve gotta move on from this. Learn from it. And stop ignoring him and avoiding him like you’re a ten year old. Be a grown-up. Act professional and be polite. I will not let this effect the team any longer than it is. Am I understood?”
She swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir, Captain Price. I promise.”
Price smiles and pats her again. “Go on. Soap and Gaz headed to Purecraft.”
“But the Lieutenant—”
“Is in the training room working out,” Price waves her off. “Go. Have some fun. Get some drinks, talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”
As she gets up, she pauses and looks at him. “Captain?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
Price’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “You’re welcome, Puffin.”
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trying to warmup but i need those old men hugging again it seems
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useless (steve harrington x fem!reader)
gif by @/keery !
plot: steve takes pleasure in driving you crazy while you're tied to his headboard
content warnings: bondage, some light finger play, domination, dirty talk, penetrative s*x, lotsa teasing
word count: 1.3k
a/n: gif is how i imagine steve in this blurb bc goddddamnnn he looks good like this
smut below the cut!
You lay on your back on Steve’s bed. His comforter has been thrown onto the floor, leaving your legs tangled up in a topsheet and your bare skin against the heathered fitted sheet. You have nothing on but a pair of his boxers. Your thighs are clenching around the cotton; the fabric cool against your skin from the way you’ve been soaking through them.
You and Steve have been lazily making out for the last hour, completely losing track of time in each other’s mouths and skin. He’ll kiss down your body, licking and sucking your breasts and stomach and thighs but never addressing your throbbing pussy. He loved to tease you like this, watching your hips buck into his chest with amusement. Occasionally he would reward you with a soft grind of his hard cock against your core, just enough to press against your clit and rile a breathy moan out of you.
Finally, he rises off of you and wanders across the room, leaving you tits-out and writhing on his mattress. When he comes back, he’s holding two bandanas, one blue and one black.
“Is this what I think it is?” You’re grinning, knees wobbling.
“Mm-hm,” Steve nods. “Gimme your wrist.” He comes to the top right side of the bed, and you raise your right arm to the knob of his headboard. He ties your wrist against the finished wood, and you watch his nimble fingers work around the fabric.
When he’s finished, he makes his way around the bed to the other side. You watch him the entire time, sensing his excitement and him sensing your’s. When he’s finished with the second knot, he just stands back and takes in the sight of you for a moment.
“Give it a tug, baby.” He nudges his head toward your tied wrists.
You oblige, pulling your arms inward but your wrists not budging out even a little bit. “Where’d you learn how to tie knots like this?”
“I was an eagle scout.” He climbs onto the end of the bed. You open your legs for him to kneel right in between. “I can make a fire out of two rocks for you when we’re finished.”
You chuckle, biting your lip. You have even more of an instinct to grind your hips into the air, his erection poking through his underwear making you go slightly crazy. He looked so good like this, kneeling over you with a darkness in his eye that made you want to do anything for him.
And him, well, he loved you in any form, but especially the way you squirmed under his control. He also knew he could do anything to you right now, and that’s the thought that turned him on the most.
“You like this?” He ran his hand up your leg.
Your eyes don’t leave his gaze. You just nod, exhaling slowly.
“You’re gonna let me take care of you, hm?” His fingers drag over your thighs. “Gonna let me do all the work?” Now over your closed core, right wear your clit meets the fabric. He presses ever so softly against the nub, circling over it at a pace that drives you wild.
You suddenly feel shy and small. B Steve knows how to drag what you need out of you. “Speak up, sweetheart.”
You hum. “I want you, Stevie.”
He presses slightly harder against your clit, rewarding you. You back arches at the pressure. “Want what?”
“Mmmph, your cock. Want you to fuck me.”
“Yeah?” He takes his hand off your core and uses both to wrap around your waistband, pulling the boxers off of you and onto the floor. “Show me, baby, show me how much you want it.” His fingers return to your core, but they don’t move. You grind against his fingers, trying to grasp the little control you have over your own body, sighing. Given the last hour, you’re absolutely soaked for him.
Then he takes one of your legs with his other arm and lifts it over your shoulder, opening you up before him. “Y’ready?”
You huff, “Been ready forever now, Steve.”
He rubs the inside of your thigh, comforting you. “Getting impatient, huh? Lemme help you, baby.” He pulls his cock out of his boxers, and it rests against his stomach with the slightest, sexiest curve toward the left. “It’ll be worth it. Gonna make you feel so good.”
“Please.” You whine.
He leans in closer, his toned arms supporting his weight as he presses onto the mattress beside your waist. Your leg bends so your knee is against your own shoulder.
And he kisses you. Slowly at first, then slips his tongue in until you're met with the familiar taste of him. “I love you.” He whispers against your lips, then kisses you again. “Love you like this, under me.”
“I love you so much.” You return, biting his bottom lip gently. He lets out a breathy laugh.
When he pushes into you, it's soft and slow. And your eyebrows curve upward in the way he just loves, your mouth falling agape. He groans when he feels himself bottoming you out.
“So fucking deep, Stevie,” You moan, breath going shallow. You can feel his tip press against your g-spot with every thrust. He’s going at a mind-boggling pace, watching you huff and whine underneath him. “Harder, baby, please.”
“Is that what you want?” He bucks his hips into you, causing you to gasp. He creates a rough, medium rhythm with his pelvis that has your head pressing hard into the mattress. You grip onto the wood of his headboard, wrists pulling on the bandanas but never breaking loose. Moans are spilling out of your mouth uncontrollably.
“So fucking tight,” Steve sighs, hips bouncing against yours. Every now and again he slows down, lets you catch your breath, before pounding into you again with an intensity that makes every thought leave your brain.
Tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes. The leg that's around his shoulder clenches in, pulling him closer to you. His lips are beside your neck now, and he takes the opportunity to bite into the skin, pulling another high-pitched moan out of you.
“So desperate for me, takin’ me so well.” He whispers between grunts. “You wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”
“Fuck, I–” Your breathing so hard into his skin.
“Shh, it’s okay. Let go, baby.” His hand slides down to hold your hips down as he sets a new pace, one that makes your head swirl. “I wanna feel you cum around me, can you do that?”
You just nod, brow curving again as you feel your orgasm approaching. The feeling fills you with bliss, eyes fluttering shut as he pounds and pounds. “That’s it,” He groans.
“Need— my clit, Steve.” You whine against his shoulder.
“I got you, honey, lemme help you.” He snakes a hand down underneath himself and props his thumb atop your clit, pressing the same small circles he knows you love. “Can’t do anything, can you? You’re useless on my cock, just useless, mm,”
The feeling combined with the low moans he’s releasing with each thrust drives you over the edge, back arching so your pelvic bone presses against his. Your moans turn to sloppy drawn-out hums as you squeeze your pussy around him, causing him to whimper into your hair. “Just like that baby, oh my god, I’m gonna–”
You feel his hips shake against yours as a sudden warmth fills your cervix. The feeling causes your shoulders to jolt forward, overstimulated from the pleasure and leaking tears and cum onto the mattress. He lets out these tiny grunts as he milks the last of his orgasm into you.
Steve slows down, both of you catch your breaths. He softly places your leg off of his shoulder and collapses on top of you, chest heaving onto yours. You’re the first to break the heavy silence. “That was…” is all you can say.
“I know.” He breathes. Then looks up at you, chin resting on your breastbone, with your arms still spread above your head. “Maybe I’ll just keep you here forever like this.”
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♡ SPICY. // PART ONE
❝ ‘cause i’m too spicy for your heart, ring the fire alarm! ❞ // attractive things the genshin men do
✧ feat ; al-haitham, ayato, childe, cyno, diluc, heizou, kaeya, thoma, wriothesley, xiao x gn!reader
✧ warning(s) ; fluff, suggestive, implied kamisato!reader for thoma’s, reader is shorter than ayato for his part, modern au for wriothesley, traveller!reader for xiao’s
✧ a/n ; yeah yeah i’m a slut we all know that already let’s move on 🙄 /lh i was brainrotting sm LOL i hope u guys enjoy!
part one︱info︱part two
please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3
✦ “are you listening?” AL-HAITHAM’s voice cuts through your messy thoughts and you scramble for your pen to scribble some nonsense and at least pretend you were concentrating. your eyes are glued to the paper in front of you, too embarrassed to meet his gaze after what you were daydreaming about him. without warning, he uses his index finger to tilt your chin up to face him with a curt “pay attention.” his green irises bore into yours, scanning them as if to discover why you haven’t been focusing and the intensity of his gaze makes heat rise to your cheeks. his actions clearly result in the opposite of the desired effect though, because it’s made you ten million times more distracted, too busy thinking about your tutor doing things that certainly aren’t academic.
✦ there’s definitely something in the way that AYATO leans down to hear you better. it’s a simple gesture, but when he bends down to listen to what you’re saying, it proves that he’s putting in the effort to continue the conversation and is genuinely interested in your chatter. or even if it’s something like leaning against the door frame, a reminder of how idiotically tall he is, it always gets your heart beating quicker and you lose your train of thought. but maybe he isn’t as clueless as you think he is, because the smirk playing about his lips as he admires your flustered expression while you stumble over your words definitely says otherwise.
✦ sometimes when you see CHILDE’s idiotic smirk, it takes everything in you not to punch it off his face. however, when he’s in the heat of battle, the way his lips curl just so as he lifts an eyebrow at his opponent daringly, almost as if he’s asking them “you really think you can defeat me?” you’d rather punch him with your lips. the sheer confidence he exudes as he fights, the casual manner with which he switches his bow to his hydro polearm, the easy grin dancing about his mouth – it’s incredibly attractive.
✦ it shouldn’t be a big deal, but whenever CYNO wraps his arms around your waist from behind to pull you into his embrace, you swear your heartbeat accelerates to the speed of light. he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder too, and if he’s feeling mischievous (which is practically all the time), he’ll tilt his head ever so slightly so he’s at the perfect angle to press fleeting kisses against your neck. you can almost feel his smile against your skin as you shiver from the sensation of his warm lips.
✦ DILUC is not one for grand public displays of affection. you don’t mind, you’re fine with it, but one day another patron at the angel’s share keeps flirting with you, and suddenly you feel the winery owner beside you, one arm snaking around your waist almost possessively. “it’s nice to meet you,” he murmurs to the other man in a tone icy enough to freeze over hell. his fingers tap a steady rhythm against your hips and you feel like his touch is branding you through the layers of fabric. it evidently gets the message across because the poor customer leaves immediately with his tail between his legs, and all DILUC does is squeeze your waist lightly and press a soft kiss on your forehead as a hint of a smug smile curves his lips.
✦ being a genius detective and also just being really annoying are certainly not mutually exclusive, as HEIZOU continues to prove every single day. case in point; the way he’s proudly walking around the tenryou commission, the array of wine-coloured bruises you left on his neck last night blatantly out for display. the other inazumans who notice look scandalized, while kujou sara seems dangerously close to bursting a blood vessel. “heizou!” you hiss, pulling him into a secluded corner to scold him, “why didn’t you wear a scarf or something?!” the detective merely gives you his trademark grin and winks playfully, “why should i? it’s a mark of your love, i wouldn’t want to hide it~”
✦ one thing’s for certain whenever you talk to KAEYA – he will give you his undivided attention. you love that about him, but sometimes his piercing gaze is almost distracting, the varied shades of sparkling blue a stark contrast to the matte black leather of his eyepatch and often making you veer wildly off-track to whatever you’re telling him about. it only worsens when you catch his stare sometimes drifting to your lips, but he’ll shake his head as if jolting himself out of a reverie before he continues looking at you and nodding like he’s been paying attention this entire time. and if you call him out on it, he’ll just raise both hands in surrender, “sorry, babe, i can’t help it – you just look so kissable when you’re talking!”
✦ THOMA is an absolute softie, always making your favourite foods and spoiling you as the housekeeper of the kamisato clan. it makes sense that you’ve never realised just how strong he actually is. but then you catch a glimpse of him one evening after a long day’s work, and as he lifts up the edge of his shirt to wipe the glistening sweat off his face you think you could collapse. the gesture exposes his toned abdomen, muscles clenching as he lets out a soft groan, and the only coherent thought running through your mind is; why has he been hiding this the entire time?! maybe it’s time for you to switch the kamisato housekeeper uniform to a crop top…
✦ WRIOTHESLEY is a gentleman who’ll never let you take a cab home alone, especially not after a long night out in the city. but as he’s pulling up to your house, your thoughts are definitely nowhere near appreciating how sweet he is, rather you’re admiring how close his muscled arms are to your face while his hand is on the back of your seat as he turns to check the rear mirror. from the passenger seat, you get the perfect view of his side profile, his chiseled features, the barely visible trace of stubble on his chin, his stormy gray eyes… he’s like the dark male lead of every romance manhwa. and when he catches you looking, he gives you a smile that’s almost teasing, “like what you see, beautiful?”
✦ even though XIAO is the one who’s supposed to teleport to you whenever you call his name, you can’t help but find yourself gravitating towards him whenever he says yours. it must be how he utters it, softly, lovingly, almost reverent in his gentleness as if you’ll shatter before his eyes if he whispers it even a decibel louder. and sure, he calls you by several petnames (butterfly, dove), but the way your name slips past his lips like a prized jewel will always be your favourite. sometimes it feels as if your name is going to be worn out from how often people use it, begging you to help them with miscellaneous tasks and pushing you to exhaustion. but during those late nights at wangshu inn as you rest in his embrace, he whispers your name as if it’s a secret for just the two of you and the stars and you can’t help but think how lucky you must have been to be born with such a pretty name, created for your adeptus lover to murmur with so much affection lacing his tone.
GRR i lowk love this... hope yall do too! don't forget to check out part 2 when it's published as well <3
© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !
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Pink Christmas Part 1 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Flying in the annual holiday air show dressed as Santa Claus was just something Bradley considered to be part of his job. But when he meets an inquisitive little girl and her beautiful mom, suddenly he wants to make all of their Christmas wishes come true. The only problem is, your daughter actually believes he's Santa, and he's not sure how he's going to keep up the charade when he wants to pursue you as just Bradley.
Warnings: Fluff, language, single mom reader, mentions of loss of spouse
Length: 8000 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader
Pink Christmas masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32. Written for @bellaireland1981 Winter RomCom Challenge
You sat on a beach towel in the grass with your face tilted up toward the warm sun and your five year old daughter on your lap. Never would you have imagined wearing short sleeves and enjoying this kind of warmth in December, but your life had turned unpredictable in the past twelve months. And that included leaving a city that was currently buried in snow for the perpetual summer of southern California.
"Mommy! Look!" your daughter shouted unnecessarily loudly, making you laugh. She turned around with wide eyes to make sure you were looking where she was pointing as she adjusted her pink noise canceling headphones. "It's Santa!"
You slid her headphones off since it wasn't loud at the moment, and you looked out across the runway at the Miramar Air Show to see a tall pilot dressed as Santa Claus walking toward his fighter jet with a group of other pilots dressed as elves right behind him. "I see him," you told her, kissing her cheek as she bounced with excitement. "It looks like he's going to fly one of the airplanes."
"Why does Santa have an airplane?" she asked. "And where are his reindeer? And why are the elves getting in airplanes, too?"
You were saved from having to answer her questions as the aircraft engines fired to life for the finale of the show, and you put her ear protection back in place before putting your own earplugs back in. Honestly, you didn't know how to explain to your child who still believed in the magic of Christmas why Santa was taking off in a jet that said ROOSTER on the side of it. Frankly there were a lot of things you didn't know how to explain to her.
She clapped her hands when the jets swooped overhead in an impossible looking formation before looping back around and doing it again. Your heart melted as you watched her wave to the lead jet and shout, "Hi, Santa!" The planes roared overhead and shot upwards before coming back one by one to the land on the runway with such incredible looking ease.
When she whipped her headphones off herself this time, your daughter jumped to her feet with a huge smile on her face. "Let's go talk to Santa," she said, reaching back for your hand.
But you already had your eyes glued on the pilot who quickly replaced his helmet with a white beard and Saint Nick hat. You couldn't help but watch him, enjoying that distant glimpse of him before he went into full Santa character again. He looked tall and strong as he climbed down the ladder in his bright red flight suit, and you had to look away as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. He waved to everyone in the crowd, and it felt like he was waving right at the two of you.
"Mommy!"
You knew she wasn't going to be deterred from this mission, so you got to your feet and let her tug you along as you tried to fold the towel one handed. "Sweetheart, Santa and his elves might be too busy to talk to us right now," you warned her as the group of six elves in bright green flight suits started fist bumping Santa Claus. And your steps faltered, because Santa somehow just got more attractive the closer you got.
------------------------
"Who let you be Santa anyway?" Jake asked, tugging on his red and green striped hat with enormous elf ears attached to the sides. "This elf bullshit is a damn disgrace."
"I volunteered to be Santa before the rest of you got a chance. Do I look like I'd make a good elf?" Bradley asked, and Jake rolled his eyes. "No. I do not." He was the tallest one in the group, and luckily he was able to sweet talk Maverick into letting him be the one to don the beard and the red flight suit for today's Miramar for the Holidays event they all volunteered to fly for.
"Maverick should have mixed things up and made me Santa," Nat said with her chin in the air.
"But you're the cutest little elf I've ever seen," Bradley told her, earning a smack on the back of his arm from her helmet. "Ow!"
"Wait, are we complaining?" Mickey asked. "I like being an elf. And apparently we get free food and hot cocoa in the volunteers tent."
"Oh, shit. Really?" Reuben asked, craning his neck to look toward the tent in question.
Bradley was about to remind everyone that they were obligated to pose for photos with kids when he heard a voice calling out, "Santa! Hey, Santa!" He turned toward the four foot tall chain link fence as an adorable little girl dragged a grown woman in his direction.
"Hey guys, we got company," he told the others as he adjusted his white beard and red hat. When he waved toward the child, she squealed in delight, and Bradley couldn't help but laugh. As she and the woman he assumed was her mom approached the fence, Bradley leaned on the top of it.
"Ho, Ho, Ho! What's your name, Kiddo?" he asked her with a bright smile. But his gaze inadvertently shifted to how gorgeous you looked as you held her hand, and he gave you a wink. He wouldn't mind learning your name, too.
But the little girl was eyeing him skeptically. "Shouldn't you already know my name? My mom said I'm on the nice list!" she exclaimed, gesturing up toward you.
Oh. Shit. "Uh, well, you see..."
Luckily you bailed him out with an apologetic look. "Ellie, don't be rude to Santa. He probably didn't update our names to our new address yet."
"Oh. Yeah," Bradley said, nodding in agreement and smiling. "Of course now I recognize you, Ellie. And your mom, too. Rest assured, you're both on the nice list."
But the girl wasn't convinced. "Why aren't you fatter?"
You brought your hand up to cover your face and groaned as Bradley laughed. "I needed to be able to fit in my jet."
"Why do you have a jet? Where's your sleigh?"
Bradley jerked his thumb toward the others milling around behind him. "My elves and I are trying out our jets this year. Something new."
"What about your reindeer?" she asked, undeterred. You were looking at Bradley and half smiling, half grimacing as you mouthed I'm sorry. But he didn't mind at all. Ellie was keeping him on his toes.
"Uh... they have the year off, per their union contracts. You certainly have a lot of questions, Ellie."
She nodded up at him with her hands on her hips. "I just want to make sure you're the real Santa. I've seen a lot of impostors at the mall."
Bradley had to stifle his laughter as you said, "I had no idea she was going to be like this. I'm so sorry, Santa."
"It's fine," he reassured you, noting that you weren't wearing any rings before he returned his attention to your daughter. "Okay, Ellie. What's it going to take for you to believe I'm really Santa?"
Her brow scrunched as she contemplated his question, and Bradley used the time to check you out. It was useless, he knew that, since he looked like an idiot in his fake beard at the moment. But damn, you were pretty. And your daughter was like a tiny, inquisitive version of you.
"Well," Ellie said with a little smirk, "you should know how old I am if you're the real Santa."
You quickly held your hand up over her head to help him out, and he counted your fingers. "Of course I know that you're five years old."
Ellie's eyes softened a bit as she said, "That's right! And what's my favorite color?"
This time you juggled the items you were holding and lifted up a set of noise canceling headphones. "That's easy," Bradley replied. "I know you love pink."
Now Ellie was smiling up at Bradley as she said, "And if you still need to update our new address, then you must know where we moved here from."
Bradley glanced up to see you pretending to shiver and rub your hands along your arms. "You moved here from somewhere cold."
"That's right!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "It's you! You're Santa!"
"It's really me," Bradley said, sending her a wink and nodding at you as you bit your lip and grinned. "And don't you worry, I'll have my elves take care of getting your new address straightened out. But first, I need you to prove that you're the real Ellie."
She nodded in excitement. "Ask me anything!"
"What grade are you in?"
"Kindergarten," she said, eyes filled with joy.
"Yep, that's right. Only the real Ellie would know that." You were laughing now, and Bradley loved the way it sounded. "And what's your favorite animal?"
"Pandas!"
"Mmhmm," he hummed, pretending he was impressed that she was passing this quiz with flying colors. "I'm almost convinced it's really you."
"Seriously," she told him. "Ask me anything, because I'm sure I'm not an impostor."
Bradley glanced up at you and smirked before leaning on the fence again, and then asked Ellie, "Tell me, Kiddo. What's your mom's name?"
She blurted it out immediately, and Bradley committed it to memory. When he looked up at you again, your gaze was focused on the ground, but you looked pleased if not a little sad. He wanted to know why.
"Would the two of you like to come in here and look at the North Pole jets?" he asked, and Ellie started bouncing up and down immediately.
"We don't want to waste any more of your time, Santa," you told him with an apologetic look.
"You wouldn't be," he promised, and when he said your name, you smiled and looked off to the side like you were embarrassed. "Come around the fence. You can meet my elves." He pointed to the gate a ways down where a security guard was standing. Bradley waved to him and gave him a thumbs up which the guard returned. "Santa gets special privileges."
"Fine," you said softly. "We'll just come around and meet you then?"
"Looking forward to it," he replied, and then Ellie was taking off for the fence opening with you right behind her. Bradley turned toward the others and clapped his hands. "Listen up. This little girl, Ellie, thinks I'm really Santa," he informed them. "And she thinks you're all my elves."
"Fuck," Jake groaned.
"I'm really hungry," Bob whispered.
"I refuse to be nice to you, even in front of a child," Nat said blandly.
"Whatever," Reuben and Javy said in unison.
"I'm so excited!" Mickey giggled, adjusting his elf ears.
"Just be nice, okay? Here she comes... with her mom," Bradley said, really enjoying the sight of you headed his way. He cleared his throat and knelt down as Ellie streaked toward him.
"Can I sit in one of the North Pole jets?" Ellie asked while you shook your head apologetically.
"Really, feel free to tell her no."
But Bradley just smiled and adjusted his white beard before he scooped the child up and stood. You looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue as he said, "Sure, Kiddo, if you think you can climb that ladder? It's really tall."
"Yeah, I can do it!" Ellie said, looking past him at his F/A-18 and clapping.
"Sound okay, Mom?" he asked you, and you bit your lip and smiled.
"Great. While Ellie and I are up there talking about what's on her Christmas list, why don't you give your information to my sweetest and most loyal elf, Phoenix."
Nat rolled her eyes at him so hard before she turned to you with a smile, and Bradley had to walk away before he started laughing too hard to stay in character.
"Your elf is named Phoenix?" Ellie asked as he carried her toward the ladder. "What are the other ones named?"
Bradley chuckled. "They're all pretty silly sounding," he said as he set her down a few rungs from the bottom. "The big one is Payback. The one who can't stop smiling is Fanboy. The one that's yawning is Coyote. Bob is the one with glasses. And the cranky one is Hangman."
"He looks like he could use a candy cane," she said as she started to climb.
"I think you're probably right. I should feed all of them more sweets."
Once they reached the top, he hoisted her over the edge and climbed onto the seat behind her. "Do you want to talk about what's on your Christmas list?"
"Yeah," she said with a sigh as she plopped down on his knee and looked at him with concern. "We didn't bring most of our decorations and stuff when we moved, because there were already too many boxes."
"Oh," Bradley grunted, patting her on the shoulder. Now he was even more curious than before about where the two of you had moved from and why as his gaze met yours where you stood below with Phoenix. "Well you'll need a Christmas tree for your presents to go under."
She nodded and finally smiled when Bradley looked at her again. "The only thing I really want is a pink one!"
He blinked at her a few times. "A pink tree?"
"Yeah! A pink Christmas tree! And an art set with pink paint."
Bradley nodded, figuring he could probably make that happen. "Sounds monochromatic but fun. Anything else?"
Ellie looked down at you and waved. Your brilliant smile for your daughter was so lovely, Bradley found himself waving too, which made you laugh. "Nothing else for me," Ellie whispered. "But something for my mom."
"Oh yeah?" he grunted when you blew a kiss up to them. Damn. He knew it was for your daughter, but he kind of wanted one of his own. "What do you think Santa should bring for your mom?"
"A boyfriend."
His gaze jerked back to Ellie's, but she looked completely serious. "You want me to get your mom a boyfriend?"
She nodded and said, "One that's tall and will play dolls with me sometimes and eat dinner at our new house. And he has to be really nice. Just like my dad was."
Bradley leaned in a little closer and wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders. "What happened to your dad?"
"He died last year," she said matter-of-factly. "But I'm sure you knew him, because he was definitely on the nice list."s
------------------------------
You watched as your daughter gave the naval aviator she was convinced was Santa Claus a big hug. He actually looked a bit ridiculous in the bright red flight suit and hat with the white beard, but Ellie seemed to have bonded with him in some way. They were laughing together about something she whispered to him, and then he was patting her head.
"I'll see what I can do for you, okay Ellie?" he told her, and you wondered if his voice really was that deep all the time.
"Thanks, Santa!" She came trotting over to you and took you by the hand. "I'm ready to go home now," she told you with a smile as the 'elves' waved goodbye. A startled laugh escaped you, because the entire afternoon felt very surreal. You just gave your phone number and your new address to someone named Phoenix who was dressed as an elf even though she was definitely also a naval pilot. And now you were waving to Santa Claus who you were left to assume was named Bradley Bradshaw based on what was painted on the side of his jet.
"Did you have a fun time with Santa?" you asked as you walked back toward the opening in the gate, chuckling at your own words.
"Yeah. He's really nice. I could have probably stayed and talked to him all night," she replied, and when you turned back he was still looking at you. The casual wave of his hand made your heart skip a beat. You really wanted this again. That familiarity with another person. The ease. The perpetually happy child next to you.
"Yeah... he seems pretty great."
But you were really annoyed with yourself when you spent nearly a full hour after you got Ellie in bed imagining what his face might look like without the fake beard. It had barely been three months since you stopped wearing your wedding rings. It was just over a year ago that your husband died unexpectedly. You were decidedly not in the market for dating anyone while Ellie was this young, because she deserved all of your attention. So why were you thinking about this Bradley guy and how sweet he was with your daughter?
You collapsed onto your bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand. You didn't do the wordle yet for today, and you still needed to check the weather for tomorrow. But you got distracted by a text from a number you didn't recognize.
Hey, it's Bradley Bradshaw. I mean Santa. I hope you don't mind me texting you.
You sat up in your bed so quickly. Your stomach lurched as butterflies took up residence, and your fingers quivered a little bit as you gripped your phone. What were you supposed to do? "Text him back," you muttered to yourself. "Get a grip."
You looked across the room at your wedding photo on your dresser. It had been in one of the few moving boxes you managed to unpack already, and it made you smile every time you looked at it. Right now was no exception; that was one of the best days of your life. But when you looked back down at your phone, you didn't feel a pang of sadness or regret. You felt intrigued. So you saved Bradley's number and then texted him back.
I don't mind one bit. I'm happy to have the chance to thank you again for earlier. You made Ellie's day! Mine, too!
And then you waited with your phone in your hand, half embarrassed and half excited by the idea of getting another text from him.
Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Your daughter is a bit of a spitfire. I was very entertained by her. And there's no need to thank me. It was the highlight of my day.
Dealing with your sassy five year old was the highlight of his day? You squealed and had to set your phone down while you walked around your room for a few minutes. The highlight of his day? He was a fighter pilot! He flew a jet around at the air show!
"Oh god," you groaned, crawling back across your bed to your phone. You were already a lost cause. Over a man who had been dressed as Santa Claus? Ridiculous.
But now you were scrambling over what to type back to him. Send him a Santa emoji? No. You were flustered as you sent him the first random thing that came to your mind.
You make a great Santa. You know, in case you ever contemplate a career change.
You looked at the words on your phone screen and cringed. You glanced back at your wedding photo and sighed. If that was your best attempt at flirting, then it was amazing you'd ever been married at all. And this man you met today didn't even seem bothered that you had a kid. That was a miracle in itself. You got ready to toss your phone aside for the night when he sent back a smiling emoji and another text.
Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I'll keep that in mind as a potential retirement gig.
You wanted to tell him he looked pretty good in a fake beard. You wanted to tell him you were curious what he looked like without it. You wanted to keep him talking a little bit longer, because you could feel the adrenaline fueled blood pumping through your body, and it felt exciting. But before you could even say anything else, Bradley had you burying your face in your pillow so you could scream without waking Ellie up.
Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: But here's the thing. I'm an absolute sucker for cute girls. When can I see the two of you again?
------------------------
Bradley had to wait a little bit for a response from you, and he was sweating. He didn't want to push too hard, especially after Ellie told him her dad died, but he was intrigued. Plus, he was already googling pink Christmas trees.
Ellie's Mom: Ellie and I are kind of suckers for sweet Santas. What did you have in mind?
He lounged back in his bed with a smile on his face. Was he about to drop five hundred bucks on an eight foot tall pink tree? Hell yes. Especially since you just called him sweet.
Ellie asked Santa for a pink Christmas tree. I want to order it tonight if you can confirm it will fit in your house. And then I'd love to come by and set it up one day.
You wrote back almost immediately after he sent the link to the tree.
Ellie's Mom: You don't have to buy that for her! It's so expensive! Honestly, you don't need to buy her anything!
Bradley sighed. The kid thought he was really Santa Claus, so there was no way she wasn't getting a pink tree and a pink art kit. It was the boyfriend request that made him chuckle, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in the idea of seeing you again.
But I want to. Any chance you can measure the space for me?
He had to wait a little bit longer again for you to answer, but this time he was rewarded with photos that had him sitting up in bed and staring at his phone.
Ellie's Mom: I can't find a measuring tape in all these moving boxes, but here's the spot where a tree could go. And here I am for reference.
You were smiling in the selfies, looking a little shy but just as pretty as earlier today, and you had on a shirt that looked so soft, he wanted to touch it. "God damn it," he grunted, already tapping out a response.
I think Santa should stop by in person and check the measurements, just to be on the safe side. Also, you're gorgeous.
"Oh fuck," groaned after he hit send. He really didn't mean to come on so strong, especially since he just met you. He busied himself with ordering the pink tree that he was sure would fit in that spot along with some colorful ornaments and tried not to count the minutes until you wrote back.
Ellie's Mom: We'll be home on Monday evening. I'm sure Ellie would love another visit from Santa. And so would I.
Bradley wrote back letting you know roughly what time he could stop by, and then he started to formulate a plan.
On Monday, in the locker room after work, he changed out of his regular flight suit and showered before zipping himself into his bright red one. His measuring tape, beard and Santa hat were already waiting in the Bronco, and he swung by his favorite bakeshop on his way out of Coronado. The place was packed with customers placing orders for Christmas goodies, so he was happy he decided to call ahead. He grabbed the box he already paid for and got back on the road, following his GPS across the city to the outskirts of town.
Your place was a cute town home with a pink Christmas wreath on the door and the windows lit with a warm glow as the sun set. Bradley got his Santa beard and hat situated using his rearview mirror, and then he grabbed the box and the measuring tape and made his way up to the front porch. As soon as he knocked, his heart beat a little faster, and a few seconds later, you were opening the door for him with a smile.
"Hey, Santa," you said softly with a crooked little smile. Bradley took you in from head to toe, his eyes catching on your lips and your pink sweater as he heard Ellie come bounding down the stairs.
"Santa!"
He looked past you just in time to see your daughter come streaking toward him wearing a pink dress and launching herself into his arms. He bent and caught her a little awkwardly as he laughed. "What are you doing here?" she asked as she hugged him.
"Came to make sure you're still on the good list." Bradley grinned up at you where you stood biting your lip. "Well, Mom? Has she been listening and behaving?"
You nodded. "Yes, Santa. She's been very well behaved."
"Excellent," he replied, releasing Ellie and handing her the box which she opened right away.
She gasped and looked up at him. "Pink Christmas cookies?"
"Yeah, I just thought the two of you might like something sweet."
You were looking at him with softly parted lips, and then you said, "Aren't we supposed to be leaving cookies out for you later this month?"
"I wouldn't complain if you did," he replied as Ellie handed you a pink snowflake cookie. He watched you bite into it, and he realized he was staring.
"Want one?" Ellie asked, tugging on his hand.
"No, those are for the two of you, Kiddo. I'm really here to measure the room for your pink tree. I want to drop it off before Christmas so there's something for your presents to go under."
Ellie screeched and nearly dropped the cookies all over the floor as you took the box from her. She pulled Bradley into the living room and showed him where she wanted her tree to go, and then she helped him measure the space while she asked him what he wanted for Christmas.
"Does Mrs. Claus get you something every year?" she asked, eyes wide and focused on him.
He wasn't sure how to answer her as he knelt on the floor with the measuring tape in his hand. So he decided to just be honest. "I actually don't have a Mrs. Claus yet."
When Ellie's eyes drifted from him up to you where you stood a few feet away, Bradley couldn't help but follow suit. "Mommy," she whispered. "We need to get something for Santa."
"Okay," you whispered back, barely glancing at Bradley before looking back at your daughter. "We can do that."
Ellie turned back to him and asked, "If I leave a present under the tree on Christmas Eve, will you know it's for you when you get here?"
"Of course. Just write my name on it so I know it's mine." Then she kissed him on his cheek right above his white beard, and Bradley melted a little bit inside.
--------------------------
You and your daughter waved from your front door as Santa left with his tape measure and one of the pink cookies. Ellie insisted he take the one that was decorated like a reindeer with him, and you watched as he ate it while he started up his vintage blue Bronco. When he honked and waved goodbye, Ellie jumped up and down.
"Santa's bringing me a pink tree!" she gushed, and honestly, you were feeling a little silly over that man, too. Your skin tingled as you closed the door and looked at the rest of the cookies. You felt like he was spoiling the two of you even though you barely knew him.
"Let's go get ready for bed," you whispered, ushering her toward the stairs before you took the cookies to your kitchen to have a moment to yourself. Last Christmas had been a nightmare as it was just a few weeks after you lost your husband, and now you'd moved to San Diego to have a fresh start with a new job and a new school and a new city. You couldn't handle another holiday in the house that the three of you had shared.
California was warm and welcoming, but the last thing you had expected to find here right away was a man that made your heart skip a beat. You knew your husband wouldn't want you to give up the idea of dating someone else, but you'd convinced yourself that nobody would want the two of you even though Ellie was a sweet kid.
You set the pretty cookies down on the counter and sighed. Bradley didn't seem to mind that Ellie was around. If anything, he seemed to really like her. He was buying her a tree even though you told him he didn't have to do that. You were more than capable of getting one, but he wasn't going to be deterred.
And Ellie definitely liked him, helped in part by the fact that she seemed completely convinced he was actually Santa.
"You don't even really know what his face looks like," you groaned as you closed the box and headed upstairs. It didn't even matter though, because you could still tell he was handsome with the kind of brown eyes you just wanted to keep looking at. But how embarrassing were you? Crushing on him like this.
After you got Ellie in bed, you texted Bradley to say thank you, and he wrote back immediately.
Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: It was my pleasure.
You imagined him saying those words in his deep voice in person, and you were still thinking about him the next morning when you woke up. You picked up your framed wedding photo and sighed in exasperation. "He reminds me a bit of you, honestly," you told your deceased husband who smiled back from the frame. "He's funny and kind of sweet. Maybe I just miss you. I don't know."
But you found yourself unable to get much work done from your home office while Ellie was at school. You kept sneaking down to the kitchen to get pink cookies, and by late afternoon, you caved like a house of cards and texted Bradley.
I can't stop thinking about what you might look like without your Santa beard and hat.
You set your phone down on your desk and stared at it. What were you, fucking insane or something? You must be. After twenty minutes with no response, you grabbed a sweatshirt and went for a walk around the block without your phone. You had forgotten how to flirt. That had to be what was going on here. You no longer knew how to be normal or subtle in any way, because it had been so long since you needed to be. When you moved to San Diego to start over again, you must have forgotten to pack your ability to act chill in front of men you were attracted to.
You stood on your front porch and took a deep breath before heading back inside. You needed to stop this. After Bradley came back with the pink tree for Ellie, he wasn't going to want to keep hanging out anyway. It was better to just stop this thing in its tracks right now. You ran back upstairs to your desk and grabbed your phone. He probably hadn't responded yet, which was great, because you could text him again and tell him you were just joking.
"Haha," you muttered as you sat down. "Just kidding, Santa."
But he had already replied. Oh. And he sent a selfie. Oh my. "Oh my god." He was even hotter than you imagined. He had a mustache. A real one, not the white one. He wasn't wearing the red hat either, and as a result, you got to see how soft his light brown curls looked. And he was smiling, his lips and his eyes already familiar to you. Then you made a small, strangled sound as you read the accompanying text.
Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Greetings from North Island... I mean, the North Pole. And by the way, I can't stop thinking about you either.
You literally melted out of your chair and onto the spare bedroom floor. You thought about reaching for your computer to put up your out of office message, but you couldn't stop looking at the photo long enough to focus on anything else. You were laying on your back looking at your phone, and you nearly dropped it on your face when he wrote back again.
Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: The tree should arrive on Thursday. I was thinking I could take a half day at work and come over to set it up on Friday afternoon while Ellie is at school? Then I could see you again, too...
You rolled onto your front and started typing. Of course you wanted him to come back on Friday. You hit send before you realized that you'd be here alone with him. You'd have no five year old to buffer yourself from almost certain embarrassment.
-------------------------
Everyone else was picking out poinsettias or red and green blooms, but when Bradley got to the florist, he asked for a big bouquet of pink flowers as well as a smaller one. Just pink flowers. Nothing else. He paid and left with both of them in one hand and ran back across the street to his Bronco.
He was running late. He told you he'd be there around one o'clock, but it was already half past. Of course he needed to shower before he left work at noon, since he smelled like jet fuel, and then he had to stop back at home and load the tree and everything else into the Bronco before he could head to your place.
The last thing he wanted was for you to think he didn't want to spend as much time with you and Ellie as possible right now. Frankly he was looking forward to spending a little time alone with you, even if it was just while he was putting the tree up. When he finally made it across town, he checked the time and winced before running up the sidewalk and knocking. And if he was already a little bit out of breath, it only got worse when you opened the door and smiled at him.
"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I realized on my way here that I must have been overzealous when I told you I would be here by one."
You grinned and shrugged. "It's okay. Come on in." You closed the door behind him and asked, "Are those for Ellie?" You were gesturing at the flowers he forgot he was holding.
"Oh," he said, pulling the bouquets apart. "One's for you." Your eyes went wide as he held the bigger bunch out, and your fingers brushed his when you took it. "The little one's for Ellie."
You were looking up at him in surprise and your voice was soft as you said, "Thank you."
"Yeah, well, I didn't know what your favorite color was, so I went all in on the pink."
You were grinning again as you buried your nose in one of the fuchsia colored roses. "It's pink. Good job, Santa."
Bradley laughed. "I should have known. The two of you have me seeing pink everywhere now."
"I'm not sorry about that," you said, reaching for the other bouquet. "I'll put these in the kitchen."
He handed it over and said, "And I'll bring the tree inside." He watched you turn away from him, and he kept his eyes on you until you were almost out of sight which resulted in you turning around and catching him staring. He didn't mind.
Bradley made two trips inside with the tree and all of the lights and ornaments, but you must have still been in the kitchen. Or maybe you went upstairs or something. He'd been hoping you wanted to hang out a little bit and chat, but he already had the enormous tree box open with pink branches spilling out of it when you returned with two mugs.
"I made you some hot chocolate."
Nobody had made him a mug of hot chocolate since he was a kid himself. "You did?"
"Yeah. But if you don't want it, that's fine." You looked a little shy now, so he stood and reached for the pink mug you were offering to him.
"I love hot chocolate. I just don't drink it much now that I live where it's usually warm."
"Where are you from?" you asked before you pursed your pretty lips and blew on your drink.
Bradley smirked. "Would I be remiss if I told you I'm actually from Virginia and not the North Pole?"
Your bright laughter had him taking a step closer to you. "Not at all. Just don't tell Ellie that. She's already working on a Christmas present for you. I mean for Santa."
"Is she really?" he asked, suddenly unable to stop smiling. When you nodded, he asked, "What is it?
"I can't tell you! That would ruin the surprise."
"Yeah... don't tell me. I wouldn't want to disappoint her." Bradley took a sip before setting his mug down on a coaster and kneeling in front of the tree box.
You cleared your throat as he started pulling branches out. "How long have you been living in San Diego?"
"About six years. I finally got a permanent station at North Island after moving around. A lot." He lined all of the pieces up on the floor as you took a few steps closer.
"How old are you?" you asked him. When he glanced up, you added, "If you don't mind me asking."
He smiled. "I don't mind you asking me anything you want to ask me. I'm thirty seven."
"How are you possibly single?" you blurted out before hiding your mug in front of your mouth. "I'm sorry." You paced back and forth across the living room a few times as you said, "I'm so bad at this. Like epically bad at it. Because I haven't had to do it in so long."
"Do what?" he asked, trying not to laugh as you came to a stop right in front of him.
You made a cute little sound before you whispered, "I have forgotten how to even attempt to flirt with a man."
He had to press his lips together to hold his laughter in. You were actually serious right now. "I thought you were doing alright."
"You did?" you asked, gaping up at him.
"Yeah. I mean, you sent me those cute selfies when you didn't have a measuring tape."
You licked your lips and took a step away from him. "No one has called me cute since my husband died."
Bradley could feel his lungs deflating. He hated that you had to live through that. He was also selfishly a little afraid you were going to tell him you weren't looking to date again. This was really the only reason he hadn't asked you out already. Well, that and the fact that your daughter was currently convinced he was Santa Claus.
But he thought he should try his luck. "Someone should be calling you cute every day. You and Ellie both. Like I said, I'm a complete sucker for cute girls."
You looked a little flustered now as you sipped your hot chocolate, so Bradley returned to his mission of putting the massive tree together in the corner of your living room. When he paused to drink from his own mug, you came over to help him. Wordlessly, the two of you assembled it until it was too tall for you to reach.
When you handed the top part of the tree to him, he whispered, "Thanks." Your hand seemed to linger on his. Or maybe he imagined it.
"It's nice having someone so tall around," you said. "You must have no problems putting your own tree up."
"Nah," he said, sliding the last piece into place. "I don't even put one up at home. Seems like a waste when it's just for me."
"You don't have a tree?" you asked, and your hand came to rest on his forearm. Bradley's eyes snapped to yours as you said, "If you can continue to handle all the pink... maybe you'd want to come back over and enjoy this one with us?"
"As Santa?" he asked. "I really got myself into a mess with Ellie, didn't I?"
You bit your lip as you looked up at him. "Yeah... she's kind of attached to Santa now."
Bradley was fighting the urge to just kiss you, because you were right there. And you probably tasted like hot chocolate. And the closer you got, the prettier you looked.
"Should we add the lights?" you asked softly, your hand still on his left arm. "Before Ellie gets home?"
Very slowly, he raised his right hand so there would be no doubt in your mind what was coming. He traced your cheek with his fingertips as your eyes fluttered closed. "Yeah. Let's do the lights and the decorations before she gets back. I didn't bring my beard and my hat today."
"Okay," you breathed, leaning into his touch for a beat before you released his arm and pulled away. "I'll... get the lights ready." You turned and started to open some of the boxes of white twinkle lights while Bradley got the ornaments opened up.
He took out the pink and silver star, and when he reached up toward the top branches, you wrapped the lights around him and the tree at the same time. "If you want to keep me here with you, just say so. You don't need to tie me up."
You laughed. "I couldn't keep you even if I wanted to. You're Santa Claus, remember? You have a million toys to deliver next week."
Bradley caught you gently by the arm as you looped the lights around his back again. "To be crystal clear, I'm only doing this for you and Ellie. Nobody else."
You wrapped the lights a little tighter and said, "To be crystal clear, I like the way that sounds."
Bradley smirked as you finally loosened the strand and freed him. "Listen," he said as he followed you slowly around the tree as you put the lights on correctly this time. "Santa doesn't have time to play games before Christmas. He's very busy."
"Really?" you asked, looking back at him as you strung the lights higher and higher on the pink tree. "This kind of feels like a game to me, Santa."
He took over with the strand once it got too high for you to reach, and when he was done, he watched you pick up one of the boxes of ornaments. There were a bunch of pink and blue hearts and stars, and you smiled up at him. So he decided to go for it. Because he knew this was a rare opportunity he'd been given. "Santa is actually pretty serious right now. About you."
When you immediately returned your gaze to the box in your hands, Bradley ran his hands through his hair. You looked a little flustered again, just like you had when you claimed you forgot how to flirt. Whatever you were doing to him, he liked it. He liked how it felt to be around you and Ellie, too. He ducked behind the tree to plug the lights in, illuminating everything in a soft, pink glow, and then he tried to find the energy to help you finish the tree without pushing this any further.
"Hey, Santa?"
"Yeah?" he replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached for an ornament from the box you were holding.
You seemed to weigh your words before you said them which had Bradley's heart beating a little faster before you even spoke. "I wasn't planning on anything serious. Not really ever again."
"Oh." Serious was the kind of thing he was looking for now. Serious was actually what he wanted. He hung the pretty blue heart shaped ornament and then let his hand fall to his side. His heart felt heavy like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake as you reached up in front of his face to hang a pink and white heart next to his blue one.
"At least that's what I thought before we moved here," you added.
He looked at you with one raised eyebrow. "Something changed your mind?"
"More like someone," you whispered, handing him another pink heart ornament which he carefully hung just above the other two. He wanted to know for sure if he was the one that changed your mind, but you pulled your phone out of your pocket and gasped.
"Ellie's bus should be here in a couple minutes."
"Right," he said softly. You and he finished decorating the tree, not so subtly stealing glances at each other the whole time. If there was even a chance with you, he wanted to take it, but he didn't want to press any harder today.
When he reached for his empty mug, you shook your head and said, "You can leave it. I'll clean up later."
"Okay." With nothing else keeping him at your house he started to head for the front door, but you caught his hand in yours.
"Wait." Your eyes were wide and a little hesitant, but when you tugged gently, he went willingly, slowly closing the distance between you body and his. "Thank you. For the tree and the ornaments. And the cookies. And the flowers."
He shook his head. "It's my pleasure. You don't have to thank me again."
"But I want to," you whispered, running your thumb along the back of his hand. "I want to do a lot of things. But they feel a little scary." When you paused, he didn't rush you. Your eyes were taking in every detail of his face, and you were smiling softly. "Things I haven't done in a long time. Things I never anticipated I'd be doing again. At least not while Ellie is so young."
Bradley opened his mouth, intending to tell you he could wait a few weeks or months to ask you out if that would make things easier for you, but you tugged gently on his hand again, rendering him silent. When your other hand came to rest on his chest, he held his breath. Your gaze stayed locked on your hand as you slowly guided it up along his shoulder and collarbone until it came to rest gently on the scars on the side of his neck.
The soft stroke of your thumb and even the gentle flex of your fingers could have brought him to his knees. And then you finally met his eyes. "I really want to," you murmured as you stood on tiptoes, your chest brushing his. Bradley's brain took a beat longer to respond than his heart did, but when you tilted your face up to his and let your eyes flutter shut, he closed the distance to your lips with his.
And it was perfect. The softest kiss of his life, but he could feel his entire body responding to you. With a soft gasp, you released his lips, but you didn't go far. When you met his eyes, you must have liked what you saw there, because you kissed him again. And again. And when Bradley guided your other hand around his neck, you kissed him a little deeper.
"Oh," you gasped, running your nose along his cheek as your fingers teased the back of his neck. When your lips met his again, he held you close with his hands on your lower back, and Bradley decided he could do this forever. All of it. The pink flowers and decorating the tree and the perfect kisses.
Then the front door knob rattled, and you broke away from his lips. Your eyes looked hazy at first, and you had the prettiest smile on your face before you pulled yourself out of his grasp as Ellie came inside. Your daughter looked back and forth between the two of you as you pressed your fingertips to your lips, and Bradley winced as Ellie asked him, "Who are you?"
-----------------------------
Bradley! I mean, Santa! Where is your beard?! I hope you loved part one! Part two is coming soon. This one took a village so thank you to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @cherrycola27
PART 2
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Bakugou/Fem Reader/Kirishima
Gym Scenario
NSFW one shot — all characters aged up/18+. Move on or block if that bothers you.
Warnings; dirty talk, pussy eating, blowjobs, fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, Eijirou cums inside reader
I was VERY excited to write this and for some reason it became so fucking hard to write. It took FOREVER — I edited, re-edited and re-edited it some more until it became something I’m semi happy with. Cuz fuck me LOL.
Anywho, hope you all enjoy!
•••••••••
“Don’t be such a pussy. You know you can fucking do it, so do it,” Katsuki demands, jaw clenched. Irritation laces his voice.
Unfortunately, the harsh pep talk doesn’t quite motivate you the way he wants.
You know it’s his way of being encouraging, but his efforts fall flat.
“Fuck off Kat,” you bite, panting heavily. “God! I wish Ei was here,” you hiss crossly, gritting your teeth.
Your sweat covered palms slip over your bare knees as you bend in half, desperately gulping down air, heart rate erratic.
Katsuki clicks his tongue behind his teeth, laughing — which sounds more like he’s mocking you, tapping his foot impatiently.
Clearly he’s not offended.
“Why? So he can baby your ass?” He taunts, lifting his chin up. He crosses his arms over his tank top clad chest.
He sits up straight on the workout bench across from you, one leg stretched out in front of him.
You throw him an icy glare, choosing to ignore his jab.
Standing upright, you use the bottom of your muscle tank to wipe off the metric ton of sweat pouring down your face.
The scent of your shirt is overwhelming and gross. Your nose wrinkles in distaste.
You’ve been at the gym with Katsuki for two hours. Two grueling, lactic acid filled hours.
The gym at Eijirou and Katsuki’s agency is relatively quiet and secluded. With all the equipment you could ever hope for.
Naturally, Katsuki woke up deciding today was the mother of all days to work on one rep maxes.
You’re both off work. Ei is out on patrol — so Katsuki can push, bully you into lifting as much weight as he wants.
Katsuki swears it’s so you can’t run to Eijirou with “big ass doe eyes” and a pout whenever you get tired and want to go home.
So, here you are, stuck with Katsuki. He’s already hit a new PR and you’re working on yours. You’ve failed this weight three times already.
You could put your fist through a wall you’re so pissed off.
Your glutes are on fire. Your hamstrings are on fire. Your lower back is on fucking fire.
Still, your boyfriend is ruthless. You’re reaching a boiling point.
“Kaaaat,” you whine, dragging out the A in his name. “I can’t do this today. Please, I just - I wanna go home. I wanna see Ei.”
Tears of frustration start to sting and well up in your eyes.
You sniff, adjusting the strap of your lifting belt tighter, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze.
An exasperated albeit fond sigh hits your ears. You take to fiddling with the hem of your stretchy biker shorts, irritated in your own lack of ability.
It sits in your chest like a lead balloon.
The bench protests as Katsuki rises from his seat. You adamantly stare at a crack in the black mats that make up the floor, shifting from foot to foot.
You listen to his quiet footsteps approaching until suddenly black lifting shoes fill your vision.
Gently, a thumb and forefinger grip your chin. Katsuki tilts your head until you’re meeting his warm yet intense ruby red stare.
You deflate, becoming putty in his hold.
“Baby,” he begins, rough voice infinitely softer now. “You are going to fucking lift this weight. You’re stronger than you know.” He’s overly confident, as normal.
Your lower lip wobbles, heat creeping up your neck and burrowing into your cheeks.
As infuriating as he can be, he’s no doubt your biggest supporter, fan, etc. Not counting Eijirou.
Katsuki’s unwavering belief in you sends goosebumps crawling up your sweat soaked arms. It ultimately convinces you to try again.
Wrapping your fingers around the wrist helping support your chin, you feel his steady pulse thudding.
“One more time and then we can go home?” You ask reluctantly. His lips curl into a smug grin realizing he’s won you over.
Playfully, Katsuki shakes your head side to side, grip tightening on your chin.
“Yeah whatever,” he relents, rolling his eyes. “Ya know, if you hit this, I’ll give you a reward,” he says nonchalantly, trailing his hand down to snake around your throat with a barely there pressure.
“What kind of reward?” You eye him suspiciously. Although, you’d be remiss to deny the anticipation his words bring.
He leans into your personal space, smirking like the Cheshire cat. It gives you a close up of the golden brown freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose.
The air between you sparks dangerously. Warm like the left over embers of a bonfire.
“How bout, I eat that cunt till you’re squirting all over my face, yeah?” He purrs, squeezing your throat a bit harsher.
You grab his tank top with both hands, inhaling sharply. Katsuki’s tone of voice, his words - your entire body flashes hot within the second.
“Oh?” You squeak out, trying to ground yourself while you’re this close to him.
Katsuki pushes in until his soft lips brush your ear lobe. It tickles pleasantly.
He slips two fingers into the top of your lifting belt, tugging you to his chest.
“Fuck yes. I’ll get you so soft, so goddamn pliant, that Ei will just slip right into your pussy when he gets home,” he whispers, voice low and gravelly.
“Oh god,” you groan, letting your forehead thump onto his collar bone. You fist his shirt until your knuckles are white, a blistering heat gathering in your belly.
Katsuki snickers, placing a kiss to your jaw and pulling back to force your head up, leveling his gaze with yours.
“C’mon baby, you know how much Ei loves that. So, why don’t you be a good girl, hit this lift and let me take your ass home.”
With that he’s gone. Leaving you to soak in the offer, causally making his way back to the bench.
Your hands linger mid air where they held his tank top. Blinking rapidly you watch him — mind blown, shattered, melted.
He sends you a pointed look to say “hurry the hell up”, resting his left hand on the seat to hold his weight.
You breeze through your personal record the very next try.
•••
One steamy, rushed shower later — you’re spread open wide, entirely bare and resting on your back.
The cool sheets on your bed help soothe your sweltering skin.
You’re not alone. Katsuki’s naked too. Comfortably laid out on his belly between your thighs.
He’s lazily pumping two fingers in and out of your drooling pussy. Paying close attention to the lewd way you suck him in.
Yearning, insatiable. Cunt strangling every coherent thought from his head besides the stunning view in front of him.
Katsuki reaches up to take hold of your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He runs his thumb over your palm, keeping you focused on him.
He casually rests your conjoined hands on the mattress near your hip.
Your low moans pierce the air when Katsuki sinks his canines into the delicate area of your inner thighs.
Katsuki gazes up at you through his long lashes while he marks you with dark reddish purple hickeys over and over.
They ache and sting, pulsating dully. Each new bite causes your pussy to flutter. It steals your breath away — the way he’s taking you apart.
Yet, you’re getting restless, squirming in the blonde’s hold. By now, you’ve already sent a salacious video of you deep throating Katsuki’s cock to Eijirou.
Drool and precum dripping down your chin, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded for the camera. Katsuki’s husky moans decorating the background.
Anything to seduce Eijirou, to tempt him into getting home quicker. You’re proud to admit it works almost too well.
He instantly replies he’ll be home in 20 minutes.
That was about 15 ish minutes ago. You’ve already been made to cum twice since then.
Katsuki had let his release spill down your throat right after he clicked send on the video. Now he’s currently inching you towards a third orgasm.
You’re aware Katsuki’s going to make you squirt this time. The slight fullness and pressure building in your bladder is a telling indicator.
He’s also trying to his damndest to stretch this out until Eijirou gets home. Craving for the red head to be his captive audience.
You share his desire. Longing for your currently absent boyfriend to just be here already. You desperately want Eijirou to turn you into a pretzel.
Nevertheless, it’s exhilarating how sweetly Katsuki’s treating you for the time being. He’s normally a bit rougher so this tender side of his is turning you to a pile of mush.
Slim fingers curl up into your sweet spot, stroking it lovingly, sending a warm shiver snaking down your spine.
Your back bows off the bed with something similar to a keen falling from your lips.
“Katsuki!” You cry out his name. It sounds as sinful as a curse and as holy as a prayer.
You free hand bunches the silky sheets up in pleasure, skull digging into the mattress below.
“Yeah that’s right. Your pussy feels fucking amazing, doesn’t it princess?” He purrs, tone almost patronizing.
But he can’t hide the underlying simmering heat coloring his voice.
His soft lips plant a kiss over your swollen clit and it gets your blood buzzing.
“So — ah! So f-fucking good Kat,” you babble, eyes falling shut. It’s irresistible, the pull you feel to roll your hips in time with his thrusts.
You’re almost feverish from it all, cheeks so scalding steam may as well rise from them.
You cling to Katsuki’s hand even more while he edges your orgasm to the surface, intermittently kitten licking your puffy clit.
You tilt your head, glancing down at Katsuki with half lidded eyes, slack jawed. He keeps his leisure pace, stretching the rubber band of your climax to its limit.
The blonde’s expression mirrors yours. Dilated pupils, red blossoming brightly over his cheeks and down his throat — lids so heavy they’re almost closing.
His stare is laced with a rabid want that you recognize all too well.
The sight of him occasionally rocking his hips down into the mattress sets your nerve endings alight.
It’s obscene, the way he chases relief for his obviously aching, full cock. You think he’s more than likely smearing precum along the sheets below.
He never fails to become drenched when he’s so badly turned on.
You stare briefly at the ceiling, knowing it’ll be over immediately if you keep leering at him.
You’re already on the cusp of cumming. The slow, sweet buildup of it making your heart pound brutally behind your rib cage.
Katsuki rips a high pitched wounded noise from your throat when he suckles on your clit again. Your free hand shoots out to tangle and twist his soft blonde hair.
A fresh wave of goosebumps light up over your arms, a thrill racing through you as he devours you. Instinctively you cross your ankles over Katsuki’s upper back.
You’re huffing, tits heaving with the rise and fall of your breathing.
You try to warn him, open your mouth to tell him you’re about to cum — but you’re interrupted by your bedroom door swinging open.
Katsuki halts his movement, your orgasm fading into the background as both your heads snap towards the direction of the door.
You don’t have time to be upset about it because finally your other boyfriend is home.
Eijirou stands there in street clothes, broad shoulders filling up most the doorframe.
His red strands hang loosely, framing his face. The ends are dripping, remnants of a quick shower he must have taken at the agency.
Eijirou wolf whistles.
“Well damn! What did I do to deserve walking in on a sweet treat like this?” Eijirou teases, crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder on the doorframe.
“Ei! You’re ho—oh fuck!” You begin to greet him but cry out when Katsuki brushes the pads of his fingers over your sweet spot intentionally, startling you.
You untangle yourself completely from the blonde, leaning up and bracing your weight on your elbows.
You shove at the blonde’s shoulder with your heel, half heartedly scowling at him.
Katsuki snickers, pillowing his cheek on your squishy thigh and slyly looking over to Eijirou. He looks quite seductive, red eyes full of mirth.
Eijirou laughs delightedly at the playful display. The sides of his eyes crinkle when he beams at you both.
“Oi, quit fucking around Ei. Take your damn clothes off and get your ass over here.” You smoothly join Katsuki in egging the other on.
“Yeah Eijirou, been waiting a lifetime for you to come home. Katsuki wants to put on a show for you.”
Katsuki barks out a laugh, wanting to deny it, but he can’t.
“Okay! Okay, I’m hurrying,” Eijirou giggles, cheeks turning a soft peachy pink.
He wastes no time, disrobing quickly. Pulling down the zipper of his hoodie to reveal he’s wearing nothing underneath.
Eijirou ignores the over the top catcalls you both throw his way. Mumbling under his breath, pretending he doesn’t love it.
He sheds the jacket, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he makes his way to the side of the bed. He slips out of his sweats just as shamelessly.
You watch Eijirou’s already half hard cock twitch when you reach out for him. He eagerly accepts it, kneeling on the bed next to your head.
You look up at him adoringly, lips turning up into a smile that makes the apples of your cheeks twinge.
“Hi Ei, we missed you,” you croon, affectionately squeezing his hand.
In response, he bends down to give you a sweet kiss in greeting. It’s brief, but makes you feel like you’re bathed in sunshine either way. He pulls back, a question clearly on his lips.
“Wanna sit in my lap baby? I’ll get the best view of you that way,” Eijirou says, entirely serious. He shuffles until he can sit behind your head, bracing his back on pillows and the headboard.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you reply. Scooting yourself backwards until you’re able to slot in between his wide spread thighs, resting your own sticky back along his chest.
As you do so, Katsuki chases you, inching forward. He never lets his fingers leave the searing heat of your pussy.
“Oh fuck,” you laugh breathlessly, taking note of their presence. You tighten around him greedily, desire burning you to ash.
“Oh princess, look at you. Even more fucking needy now that Ei is home,” Katsuki comments meanly, digging his thumb into your puffy clit as he settles in his new spot.
A weak yelp leaves you at how sharp the sensation becomes.
You feel the rumble of Eijirou’s laughter as it vibrates throughout his chest.
“Maybe I just want to cum,” you chide him. “You’ve been edging me forever.”
Katsuki doesn’t respond. Just grins like he’s won the lottery, a bit manic, and sets an borderline violent and relentless pace.
The howl you produce is ear splitting. The sudden dynamic shift begging your spine to bend but Eijirou quickly keeps you caged in.
He wraps his thick biceps around your stomach, hooking his chin into the muscle just behind your collarbone.
“Be good,” Eijirou warns. “You wanted this yeah? Then let Kat do what he wants.”
You scramble to lock onto his forearms, nails dragging angry lines over his skin.
You obediently nod along with what he tells you, starting to get the impression your skin is too tight to fit over your bones.
Your body bounces in time with Katsuki’s motions and the razor sharp points of Eijirou’s teeth threaten to pierce the delicate flesh of your shoulder.
Mercifully, your orgasm comes on like a freight train. In less than a minute to be exact.
Katsuki bullies your sweet spot with a precision only he could possess. Flicking his tongue over your clit in a steady up and down rhythm.
Pleasure pulses white hot in your pelvis, threatening to prickle out all over your waiting body.
“Oh. Oh, I’m gonna cum Kat! Ei, please, shit!” you curse, head spinning, not even sure what you’re begging them for.
“That’s it babygirl, we’ve got you,” Eijirou coos, tone a 180 from a couple minutes prior.
You’re wiggling in his iron clad grip, on the edge of exploding. One more push is all you need.
The stifling heat of Katsuki’s mouth envelops your clit once more, sucking.
Then, your toes curl into the sheets, all the muscles in your lower half tensing as your climax rips you apart.
You hold onto Eijirou’s forearms for dear life, molten lava gushing through your veins like a busted dam.
Katsuki pulls his mouth away with a wet pop, punishing you with each slippery glide of his fingers. You don’t think you can take much more, crossing into over sensitive territory.
Yet, it doesn’t matter, the looming pressure on your bladder gives without your permission.
“You’re so hot like this baby. Now fucking squirt for me,” Katsuki snarls. Eijirou’s cock kicks where it’s trapped against your lower back.
It’s too easy to bend to his will.
You’re soaking the blondes chin and wrist before you know what’s happening, liquid running down to your ass.
His head jerks back, briefly startled, before his eyes get wide.
Katsuki slows, lolling his tongue out to lick his drenched lips for a taste. He moans, flush traveling down to his chest.
“No more,” you complain, hips stuttering as you push at his forehead.
You try to catch your breath, coming down from the high — becoming boneless on Eijirou’s chest.
“Good job sweet girl, you did so well my love,” Eijirou murmurs in your ear. His breath tickles your cheek and you lean into him. The red head smoothes his palm over your belly.
Katsuki slips his fingers free, biting the inside of his cheek when your pussy desperately tries to keep him from leaving you empty.
He rises up, settling back on his calves. He admires how drenched his hand has become.
He arches one pretty blonde eyebrow, smirking at his boyfriend.
“Want a taste of her Ei?” Katsuki asks teasingly, wiggling his fingers at the red head.
Eijirou hums his agreement.
Katsuki surges forward, leaning over you, dangling his dripping hand in front of Eijirou.
Katsuki’s cock, hot and heavy, brushes your lower belly. God, you just want to drag him down by his slim hips, flip him over and ride him until he sees stars.
But you don’t. The deep seated desire for Eijirou to fold you in half wins out.
You tilt your head up just in time to witness Eijirou’s pink tongue dart out for a taste.
He trails his tongue up Katsuki’s fingers, dipping into the grooves between.
You shudder, simultaneously moaning with the blonde.
“Ei,” you interject brokenly. “I need you to fuck me, now please.” Eijirou’s boner jumps against your lower back.
“I can totally do that,” Eijirou responds quickly, playfully pushing at your back. You laugh, looking up at Katsuki expectantly.
He’s still hovering over you.
“Yeah whatever I just wanna watch Eijirou fuck you silly.” He winks at you. You swallow and it’s like your throat’s lined with cotton balls.
Katsuki retreats, loosely circling his fingers at the base of his cock and squeezing.
“C’mon Ei, I’ve been waiting for you all day,” you giggle, sliding down until you’re flat on your back again.
You plant your feet on the bed, allowing your legs to fall open as wide as they’ll go.
“I won’t make you wait any longer baby,” Eijirou assures. He crawls down as Katsuki moves upwards, effortlessly switching places.
Katsuki’s knees bracket your head as he maneuvers until he’s comfortable. If you glance backwards you’ll be met with the view of the blonde’s cock and his partially obscured face.
“Ready pretty girl?” Eijirou asks, pawing at the squishy spots of your thighs, inching close enough until he can part the lips of your pussy with his shaft. Pink head bumping into your clit.
You nod, biting into your lower lip.
Eijirou uses his thumb to angle his cock down where your warmth waits to greet him. To suck him in like a vice. To clamp down around him until his brain is fuzzy.
He barely dips the head of his cock in once, twice — before finally applying enough pressure his tip fully pops in.
The initial stretch makes you shiver. As he fills you with the rest of his cock, you start to tremble.
Your pussy doesn’t offer even a hint of resistance.
You wheeze out his name, when he bottoms out. Eijirou’s blunt nails leave indentations on the backs of your thighs as he pushes them a bit towards your chest.
His grip is bruising, licking his lips as he concentrates on being still so you can adjust.
You look down to where you’re connected, fists clenched in the sheets by your sides. Your pelvis throbs briefly from just how big his cock is.
Eijirou grabs your attention with a strangled sound. Your gaze flickers back to him and his expression is pleading, impatient.
You snort, giving him the go ahead.
He runs with it, proceeding to carve out a space inside you for himself. His eyes flutter shut as your pussy pulses, choking his cock.
His lips part slightly, eyes glued to where you’re swallowing him just right.
He rolls his hips, pulling back and thrusting in with a singular fluid motion. Slowly working up to a rougher, faster pace.
Katsuki’s curses from somewhere behind you. Voice low and ragged as he tells you just how fucking pretty you look taking Ei’s cock.
You echo the sentiment, praising the red head as he shifts around on his knees and thrusts harder.
Eijirou whimpers, taking your ankles, lifting until your knees hook over his shoulders. He bends you in half, placing his hands by your head.
A moan is punched out of your chest and you cling to his shoulders. It feels like his cock is in your belly.
“Eijirou, holy shit! Please — don’t stop!” you beg, voice edging on a sob. Katsuki hisses in pleasure behind you. The slick, wet sound of him jerking his cock burned into your ears.
“Anything baby, whatever you want,” Eijirou says with a breathy sigh, fucking you hard enough to bounce your body with each thrust. The smack of his skin against yours spurs him on even further.
Your pussy chases his cock every time he pulls back, not letting him go for a second. He fucks you until you feel high, and when you get impossibly tighter — he knows you’re cumming.
Eijirou talks you through it, because of course he does.
He makes sure to drag out your orgasm as long as he can.
A drop of sweat falls from the tip of his nose into the valley between your tits, admiring the way your body releases all its tension as you come down from the high.
“Good girl, you cum so beautifully for me,” Eijirou praises. “I’m gonna cum inside you okay?” He’s panting as he moves, clearly hanging on by a thread.
“Cum for me Ei,” you murmur, trailing your hands up and wrapping your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Eijirou whines as you pull him down into a hungry kiss, attempting to eat him alive.
He whimpers into your mouth, shoving his cock to the hilt in your pussy. A new warmth blooms inside you as your boyfriend cums.
Eijirou wrenches his mouth from yours to gasp, jaw falling open as he rides out the last few pulses of his orgasm.
A high pitched whine slices through the gooey atmosphere and you look backwards just in time to watch Katsuki’s gorgeous face as he cums.
Eyes pinched shut, the muscles of his neck straining as he tosses his head back on the headboard with a thump.
He traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth, partially muffling the next moan he can’t control.
Eijirou hisses when your pussy involuntarily flutters around him as you watch the blonde squirm with pleasure.
Katsuki’s shoulders drop as he relaxes, chest heaving. His stomach is covered in cum. As is his chest — there’s even some on his cheek.
Reluctantly, your attention snaps back to Eijirou when he gingerly pulls his softening cock free. Taking a moment to track the way his release sluggishly flows from you.
“Enjoying the view?” You ask coyly. Eijirou glances at you in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.
“I always do.” He’s giggling now.
“Fucking sap,” Katsuki snorts.
“Hey!” Eijirou protests. You laugh, reaching backwards to slap Katsuki’s ankle.
“Don’t listen to him Ei, he’s just as bad.”
Playful banter consumes the three of you as you enjoy the relaxing and affectionate atmosphere.
Eventually, you manage to clean yourselves up.
You and Eijirou easily convince Katsuki to cook and fill your bellies with food.
As you wait, you sit at island in your kitchen.
Happily retelling Eijirou how you got a new PR today at the gym.
Not leaving out the way Katsuki used dirty tricks and promises of sex to persuade you, which makes Eijirou laugh out loud.
Katsuki just raises his middle finger over his shoulder in return, taking all the credit for your lift either way.
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glad I crashed the wedding // oscar piastri
summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.
pairing: oscar piastri x female! reader
warnings: sexual tension, one bed trope, difficult sister relationship (though they love each other very very much), eventual smut, fake dating (I’ve been reading too much Ana Huang lately)
“so let me get this straight,” she began, swirling the coconut-mango-pineapple icy drink in her hand, leaning back against the photocopier. “you, the great oscar piastri, wants to come home with me to be my date for my sisters wedding, and you don’t want anything in return?”
oscar nodded, a wide grin on his face as the copy machine continued to churn out waivers for the hot lap guests to sign. “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“but why?”
oscar shrugged, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “because I’m your friend. and this is what friends do.”
y/n sighed, sipping her drink before turning away from the driver. keeping eye contact was dangerous when it was with oscar piastri. when it was with the man who set her nerve endings on fire, who made her stomach churn like the rising tide with a gesture as small as a wave, or an offer to buy her a drink.
who had an accent that made her core throb, soaking her panties right through when she thought about how his voice would sound in her ear if he was whispering some less-than-holy things to her.
“I don’t want to subject you to the insanity. you might not want to be friends after you meet my family. we can’t even be in the same room sometimes, it’s like dropping a match onto a pile of dry leaves.”
oscar laughed and she tried to ignore the shivers the sound sent up her spine, the rising goose flesh on her arms as she counted the waivers, having to start the count over again more than a few times.
“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” oscar reasoned, taking the file folder from her, insisting on lightening her load. “I just want you to feel at ease.”
she rolled her eyes, grabbing her drink as she started to walk out of the motorhome. “I’ve been living in delias shadow since I was fourteen. she’s a well respected medical professional; and I went to a three year college. everything she does is perfect. hell, she’s getting married this weekend and here I am, convincing myself that letting you tag along is a good idea so I don’t look like I’m going to die alone.”
it’s not like she wasn’t successful. she was a part of the legal team for one one of the biggest racing names in the world. when Oscar’s contract dispute started, she had been the one who served otmar his papers (and to this day, saying the words “otmar szafanuer you have been served, see you in court” was still one of the finest moments of her career).
it’s just that delia always brought out the worst in her, every insecurity, every flaw she hated about herself. their childhood has been fraught with insecurity and competition.
she sighed, leaning against one of the paddocks scratchy palm trees, bark digging into the skin on her arms. oscar was still trying to plead his case, and she wondered why she was fighting it.
this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? oscar on her arm, making her feel like she was wanted, loved, even?
she took another sip of her drink before she spoke again.
“we’ll probably have to share a hotel room, and my dad might threaten you with his antique saw collection. you’ll also have to stop me from killing delia with my bare hands before the big day.”
oscar chuckled, handing back her file folder. “I think I can handle that.”
that goddamn smile. that’s where it all started, when she first started to think about his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his mouth wrapped around her nipples.
why on earth was she agreeing to this?
“you’d better be up bright and early tomorrow. it’s a long flight and my dad is meeting us at the airport. as far as everyone knows, I’m not bringing a date.”
the feeling of his hand against the small of her back burned into her skin. she could feel his body heat through the thick fabric of her papaya golf shirt as he started guiding her towards the garage where the hot laps were being conducted.
“oscar, what are you doing?”
he grinned at her, baring his pearl-white teeth, in their slightly uneven top row. “if we’re going to convince your dad that we’re together, we’d better start practicing.”
god, this man was going to be the death of her.
————
she regretted inviting oscar along the second they got off the plane.
from the moment they passed through airport security, it was as if a switch had been flicked in her brain, converting him from the serious, driven race car driver she met at the track, to a man straight out of the romance book she had been listening to on the flight. his hand was rooted to her back protectively, and he wouldn't let her carry any of her luggage on her own.
she could get used to this, she thought, watching his t-shirt ride up over his defined abs as he reached into the overhead cabin to pull down her two small suitcases.
they walked peacefully through the terminal, oscar pushing the baggage cart with one hand, his free arm looped over her shoulder.
"you know you don't have to act like my boyfriend until we see my father, right?" she said hesitantly, running a thumb over his knuckles. "my feelings won't get hurt if you don't want to pretend when nobody else is around.
oscar acted like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by a shout across the airport.
"y/n!" the voice shouted. "there's my girl!"
"dad!" she shouted, breaking away from oscar's side to launch herself into her father's arms. the constant travel that came with working in formula one took it's toll, and she didn't get to see her father as often as she liked. she'd had to move to england to work with mclaren, and her family had stayed behind.
she never said she loved that part of her job, but a little space away from her family often made her appreciate them a little more.
"dad, i want you to meet someone." she started, waving at oscar, who lumbered over with the weighed-down baggage cart. "this is my boyfriend, oscar." despite the lie, and how foreign the words were, saying them almost felt right.
my boyfriend oscar.
"i'm carl, nice to meet you." her father said, his voice a slight bit more gentle than his usual grunt.
oscar shook carl's hand, a bit of weariness on his face as he slipped his smooth, dainty hand inside carl's larger, more calloused one. "nice to meet you, sir."
carl raised an eyebrow. "australian? you'd better not be giving my daughter any of those australian kisses."
"dad, what the hell!?" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands as a blush began to coat her cheeks. if there was one thing she definitely was not getting from oscar piastri, it was australian kisses.
oscar thought she was cute when she was flustered. it was such a shame it took him an hot minute to figure out why.
australian kisses are like french kisses, just down under. it was mark who had said it to him first, in an attempt to be funny. as the meaning set in for oscar, he found himself silently cursing mark webber.
but it didn't mean he didn't get half-hard thinking about having his head between y/n's thighs.
________
"you've got to be shitting me."
she knew they would be sharing a bedroom. all of the plus ones were rooming in the chic, trendy motel with the guests who had invited them. and that would have been fine.
except that this hotel only had a queen bed, done up with plush white sheets and a small turquoise blanket draped over the bottom half.
a queen bed that she would have to share with a man that she wished would fuck her brains out.
"i can call the main office if you want." oscar suggested softly, reaching for the door handle. "i can see if they have another room, or they could bring a cot in for me?"
she sighed, raking her hair over her head as she looked around the room. "don't bother. the motel only has fifteen rooms, and it's booked solid for delia's wedding, between her bridal party and the fiancée's family, i doubt they'd even really have a cot. we can manage, right?"
oscar nodded, hands buried deep in his sweatpant pockets. damn those gray sweats.
"we can make a towel barrier, and the bed is more than big enough for both of us. hell, we could probably have a threesome on that bed and still have space."
did oscar piastri not have a single drop of shame?
she shook her head, trying to forget the thought of a half-naked oscar hovering over her, whispering things in her ear. she made a grab for her suitcase placing it on the bed and grabbing a handful of clothes and a travel bath and body works bottle.
"i'm going for a shower, can we talk about this afterwards? i'm jet lagged and i really just want to sleep."
"sure." oscar shrugged, spreading hismelf out on the bed, arms over his head so that his shirt once again showed off his stunning lower torso.
she tried to stop herself from staring at the happy trail dipping under oscar's waistband, but she failed miserably, her eyes following the small trail of hair down to the waistband of his jack and jones boxers, to the impressive lump underneath his jeans.
if his cock was that big when it was soft, how would it feel when it was hard, throbbing and inside of her. just the mere thought was making heat grow between her legs-
nope. we're not going there today.
she squeaked out some kind of muffled statement, clutching her clothes to her chest and making a mad dash towards the bathroom door. a cold shower should fix this, right?
when oscar heard the shower turn on, the music clicking on soon after, he sat up on the bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. he knew he should shower as well, but the fatigue of air travel was beginning to set in. a small nap wouldn't hurt, right?
he got up from the bed, socked feet sliding against the laminate floor as he reached for the wheels on the bottom of y/n's suitcase. all he needed to do was close the suitcase, move it out of the way, close his eyes, and then drift of into a peaceful slumber.
all he had to do was hope that he didn't wake up hard, or moan her name in his sleep. it should be easy, right?
wrong. the suitcase slipped out of his grip, almost sliding off the bed before he thanked god for his reflexes, stopping the suitcase from hitting the floor, save for a few articles of clothing.
he leaned down picking up the black busted tour shirt and denim shorts, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was resting on the area rug underneath.
it was a mass of bright peach lace, the color so close to the mclaren signature papaya, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked it up and unraveled the halter bralette. he bit back a moan as he stared at the lace and mesh that left very little to the imagination.
he started to think about his mild-mannered co-worker wearing it, her perky nipples pressing against the bright, skimpy fabric.
the mere thought sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.
god, he was down so bad that it should be criminal.
he shouldn’t be thinking about whispering dirty sweet nothings against her skin, or sucking a hickey into her thigh before he plunges his tongue inside of her.
he shouldn’t be thinking about anything that would make his boner worse.
and that was when he heard the bathroom door open. and there wasn’t enough time to hide the sweat seeping from the pores on his skin, the tent in his sweatpants, or the fact that he was still holding the offending lingerie in his hands.
“it’s not what it looks like!” the driver sputters, turning around to face her, and bitting his lip to stop himself from losing whatever composure he has left.
she’s wearing booty shorts that barely cover her backside, the ass emblazoned with the acronym for the college she attended, her top half covered with a loose-fitting muscle tank sporting a skeleton on a surfboard, the sides of her bare tits just barely visible through the arm holes.
“oscar,” she breathed, voice raspy when she saw the tent pitched in his pants. “do i turn you on?”
“you have since the day I met you.” he admits, dropping the bra and slowly moving closer, hesitantly running his hands down her still-warm sides. “tell me, y/n, do you touch yourself when you think about me?”
“i could ask you the same.” she shot back, her voice wavering as she pressed her hand shakily against oscars clothed cock. “your boyfriend act didn’t feel like an act this morning.”
they shouldn’t be doing this. it was crossing so many lines. but when oscar looked her dead in the eyes and breathed out a single word, all thoughts of self control went out the window.
"yes."
she pressed her lips against his, nipples springing to attention as she pressed her front against his, his hands moving from her sides to squeeze and caress her breasts, her mouth falling open in a moan against his lips. oscar took that chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands migrating to her hair as he maneuvered their bodies towards the bed.
she took the lead once her back hit the mattress, practically ripping her tank top off and casting it aside, hands making a mad grab for oscar's plain white shirt while he kissed and marked up her neck.
she whimpered under his touch, and would have been embarrassed had she not been so turned on.
"oscar, please." she begged, spreading her thighs as she tried to grind her core against his thigh. "i need you. i need your cock so deep inside me that i can still feel it three days later."
oscar practically growled at the admission, pulling his lips off her right tit. "are you begging for me, pretty girl? do you want me to make you feel good? hm, want me to treat you right?"
"yes." she breathed, tucking a hand underneath his boxers. "please, oscar."
god, his name sounded so sexy rolling off her tongue. he couldn't think straight when she had her slender fingers wrapped around his cock.
"are you sure you want this? because once i have you, i won't let you go. i'll need more."
"i'm sure, oscar. and i'm not just saying that because i think your mild possessiveness is kind of hot."
oscar smiled, a small, imperceptible blush forming on his cheeks. "you think i'm hot."
"since the day i met you." she hummed, sewing her lips to his, her fingers tugging on his hair, a small moan leaving his throat.
"oh, so pretty boy likes it when i tug on his hair." she giggled. "i learn something new every day."
"keep talking like that, and you won't be able to walk in the morning."
"i look forward to it."
oscar looked around, his eyes settling on the mirror hanging opposite the bed, right next to the bathroom door. he felt his dick throb as an idea formed in his head, pulling away from the body lying prone on the bed.
"shorts off, all-fours on the bed facing that mirror." he ordered, trying to keep a gentle tone in his voice as he clambered off the bed, stripping out of his sweatpants and boxers, hard member jutting straight out as her touched himself, trying to find some kind of release from the pressure between his legs.
she shivered at the command before making a show of dropping her shorts to show off the cream coloured cotton thong she was wearing, laughing to herself when oscar's eyes rolled back in his skull, a moan escaping his throat.
"god, you're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."
she couldn't deny the excitement in her bones as she settled herself on the bed, arousal literally dripping down her thighs when she looked in the mirror and saw oscar looking at her, mounting the bed behind her before slapping his cock against her ass.
in a more tender, loving action, oscar leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.
"you're so pretty." he whispered, the compliment sinking into her skin like tattoo ink before he sunk into her, gripping her hips and closing his eyes to try and show some restraint as she got used to his size.
it was a sinful picture in that motel room mirror as he began to rut into her, watching her tits shake in the mirror, listening to her sweet whimpers and whines and pleads for more.
"god, yes, oscar! feels so-so fucking good, oh my god."
he met her eyes in the mirror, sweat running down his chest and dripping onto her back as he kept thrusting, the same relentless pace. "you're so good for me, pretty girl. so stunning, so sexy with my cock inside you like this. god, you're prefect. perfectly mine."
he practically growled the last word, knowing damn well that he was ruined for any other woman.
-------
they woke up in a tangled heap of limbs, not knowing where one body ended and the other began, lazily exchanging kisses as the sun rose outside.
"oscar, we have to go to the rehearsal." she whined as he kissed her neck. "if we're late, i'm never going to hear the end of it."
"don't care." oscar hums, running his hands up and down her sides. "i would gladly stay in bed with you all day and order room service so we don't ever have to leave."
"osc." she warned, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet over her chest. "we're going to the rehearsal. i'm a bridesmaid, remember?"
fifteen minutes later, oscar was in the bathroom steam-cleaning the wrinkles out of his suit while she tried on the bridesmaid dress, caramel fabric falling over her skin as she stared at herself in the mirror.
the same mirror where, just twelve hours before, she had watched oscar piastri fuck her brains out.
she felt heat on her hips, and didn't even need to look up to realize that it was oscars hands, gently caressing her skin through the satin. he gently kissed her shoulder blades, his hands moving to do up the zipper she couldn't quite reach.
"you look beautiful." he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "you deserve better than me."
she giggled softly, tugging his arms away from her hips and around her waist, sinking back into his arms. "no i don't. you're exactly what i want, oscar. you're funny and you're sweet and you make me feel like the best version of myself. you're also really great in bed."
oscar laughed, kissing her softly. he would never get tired of feeling her lips against his. "the boyfriend stuff was never an act. and i volunteered to come with you this weekend because i wanted to get to know you off the track. who you are when you aren't serving legal papers to team principals."
"i only did that once. i missed out on the chance to fight with chip ganassi since arrow has a different legal team." she laughed. "i really like you, oscar."
"and i really like you too, y/n. my perfect, beautiful girl."
-------
the wedding came and went, marking the end of y/n and oscar's dream weekend, the reminder that very soon, they would all be going back to their real lives.
that she and oscar would need to figure out where they stood with each other.
but she didn't want to think about that. not while she was dancing with her sister, the pair of them finally getting along as they screeched the words to an old tove lo song.
oscar watched from the table, sitting next to y/n's mother and making polite conversation as his lovesick eyes found her under the disco lights.
"someone is feeling lovesick tonight." mrs. y/l/n hummed. "we heard you two last night. the motel walls aren't as thick as you think."
oscar blanched, coughing on his drink. "you heard all that?"
y/n's mom laughed. "her father had to leave the room and get a coffee before he walked in there and strangled you. y/n is always going to be his little girl. but she's growing up, and i think if she has you in her life, she'll be okay. you're good together."
oscar was about to say something else when a shout rang through the room. "delia is doing the bouquet toss!"
all of the members of each wedding party gathered in the middle of the floor, y/n's sister standing on the dj stand, her white dress brushing against the floor and picking up specs of dust and dirt, as she lifted the bouquet over her head.
y/n mother rested her hand on oscar's forearm, staring at him with a knowing look, hoping her other daughter would be the next to tie the knot.
sure enough, it was almost like fate as the boquet of white roses soared into the air, nailing y/n right in the face and tumbling into her arms as the other bridesmaids cheered. her face was pink and she was trying to hide behind the bouqet as delia came to pull her into a hug.
"i love you, sis. and i'm sorry i didn't know how to show it when we were younger." delia gushed, kissing her baby sister on the forehead before nodding her head at oscar. "you've got a good one. don't let him get away."
"i won't." she laughed, wiping at the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "i love you, deels."
the song changed, a slow kesha ballad humming through the speakers as the singer crooned about her old flame, and how they couldn't hold a candle to her current love. she turned away from her sister, who had just gone to find her new spouse to dance with, only to see oscar, looking dapper in his black suit and bowtie.
"can i have this dance, my love?"
she smiled, leaving her bouquet with her mother before stepping into oscar's arms, wishing for nothing more than to wrap herself around him like a woolen sweater. she rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to fall into him while they swayed to the music, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead as dolly parton began to sing the second half of the song.
man, she could really get used to this.
get used to oscar.
TAGS:
@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @love4lando @thatsdemko @diorleclerc
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Cowboy Like Me- L. Castellan
Luke x fem! reader
shorter then usual
“now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon. with your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con.” - taylor swift
Nothing had felt right since Luke had left. Days seemed duller, nothing was exciting anymore, it was a chore to just get up every day.
The pitying glances thrown her way had long turned cold. No one cared to check up on her anymore when she stayed in bed all day, the rest of the camp thought she should just get over it.
It made (Y/n) feel pathetic. Luke had betrayed them, he had left her without a goodbye! So why did she miss him so much?
She found it stupid, she found him stupid. Luke knew she would’ve gone with him without even so much as a ‘please.’
So why didn’t he ask her? Why didn’t he take her away?
Instead, she was left at camp. She was all alone, people didn’t want to talk to her anymore. Everyone was scared that Luke’s girlfriend would turn out just like him. That maybe she was a spy for him.
She supposed their feelings weren’t wrong, if given the chance she would leave like Luke. If given the chance maybe she would’ve been a spy for him.
But he hadn’t talked to her in months, not since the day he had disappeared without a trace.
She missed how it used to be, she missed the happiness. She longed for when Luke would sneak into her cabin late at night to hold her in his arms, or how they’d sneak away from the campfires to be alone, she even missed when he’d tease her over at bad she was at sword fighting but still assist her in any way he could.
It wasn’t like that now, and it would never be that way again.
She slept alone now, no longer with Luke’s warmth enveloping her. She found it annoying how her siblings would tease her when they found them cuddled up in the morning, but now she yearned for it more then anything. It was better then the harsh glares they sent her way.
Campfires were lonelier then ever. She never stayed long anymore, memories of the happier past haunting her. The fire burned at her skin, and the songs hurt her ears.
As she looked around, her eyes caught sight of Annabeth laughing and joking with Percy. She didn’t understand how Annabeth could act like nothing had happened, she was his sister..
Maybe it was her jealousy talking, it wasn’t fair how everyone had just moved on and (Y/n) was still stuck in her grief.
Had no one cared for Luke? Did no one care that he had betrayed them?
She had to leave, it wasn’t like anyone would’ve cared if she left anyways.
She slipped into the woods like her and Luke had done time and time before, trudging over the sticks and underbrush to the one place she knew would bring her comfort.
(Y/n) found herself in a secluded area near Zeus’s fist. It was a place her and Luke would come often, whether they just wanted to hang out or if Luke needed her and there were people in the cabins.
She slid down to her knees in front of a little opening in the rocks, (Y/n) reaching her hand in to retrieve the duffle bag she and Luke had hidden there long ago.
At some point, the bag had held all the things the needed when they were alone together. Snacks, a blanket, condoms Luke had snagged from Gods-knows-who, and a couple of mixtapes.
But now, the bag held all the remnants she had left of Luke. Clothes, stupid jewlery she had made for him, and poloroids of them were stuffed into the bag.
She had done this many times since he was left, sneaking away from camp and grabbing the duffle bag so she could pretend that Luke was still with her.
This time, however, the smooth fabric of the bag didn’t meet her fingers. (Y/n) frowned as she shoved her hand deeper into the crevice, but her hand only met dirt.
“What the fuck…” She mumbled as she lowered herself to the ground to look into the hole. “Where is it?”
Panic started to rise in her chest as she started swiping at the leaves that surrounded her, in hopes of finding the bag.
This was all she had left of Luke, she needed this bag!
“Where is it!?” Her breaths came out labored as tears started filming over her eyes.
Her shaky hands snaked into her hair, tugging on it in stress.
“Looking for something?”
(Y/n) froze as she heard the voice behind her, this wasn’t real. This had to be a stress induced hallucination.
She craned her head around, her mouth going dry as she saw Luke standing behind her with the duffel bag hanging from his fingers.
What was wrong with her? She’d dreamt about the moment he’d come back to her for so long, making up scenarios of what she would say or do to him.
Would she beat his ass for leaving her? Cry? Make-out with him?
But as he stood over her, dark curls hanging over his eyes, she was frozen.
“L-Luke?” She croaked out.
Luke smiled softly as he crouched down in front of her, his hand grabbing her chin as he tilted her head up.
She almost started sobbing right then, realizing just how much she had missed his touch.
“Hey, baby…” His breathed out. Now that he was closer, (Y/n) could see his face more clearly. He looked different, stronger. His face was more mature, and his clothes looked more expensive then the stupid camp shirt he had always worn.
But his hair was still the same curly mess she loved, and his eyes were still the same ones she adored.
“Why are you.. here..” Her voice shook as she gripped his wrist.
He unzipped the duffel with his free hand and pulled out a mixtape. “I wanted this.” He shrugged before tossing it back in. “It’s a plus that you kept all my stuff in here, needed some of that.”
(Y/n) felt her face grow hot in anger, he was here for that stupid mixtape? What about her! Was he not going to come steal her away?
She shoved his hand off her chin and stumbled away. “What about me?” She glared at him.
“That’s why I wanted the mixtape..” He frowned and reached out for her again. “I’ve been going crazy without my girl with me..”
She saw red at his statement. He was going crazy? How did he think she felt!?
“Then why did you leave me?” She spat out as she slapped his hand away from her, tears falling down her cheeks involuntarily.
“I didn’t want to get you involved—” Luke rushed out, trying to crawl closer to her. “I didn’t want to leave you, but it was too dangerous to take you with me.”
“You shouldn’t have made the choice for me!” She sobbed, head falling in her hands. “I need you, and you left me…”
“(Y/n)….” Luke whispered. He tilted her head up as his thumb brushed her cheek, wiping her tears away with fond eyes. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. You know I hate seeing you like this.”
Her cheeks flushed as she gazed up at him with wet eyes. She hated how after all this time, he still had this affect on her.
She was supposed to be angry, she should want beat his (pretty) face in with that stupid mixtape, but instead all she wanted his him.
She wanted—no, she needed—his comfort, she needed his affection, she just needed him.
“C’mon pretty girl, I know you’re happy to see me.”
(Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut and looked away from the boy, she was happy to see him.
“Take me.” She blurted out as she looked back up at him, her hands meeting his sharp jawline.
“What do you mean..?” Luke mumbled, his hands reached up to grab hers.
“Take me with you this time, I want to be with you..” (Y/n) begged him.
Luke hesitated as he stared down at her. His eyes flicked between her eyes and lips, desire clouding his thoughts. How had he been holding back for so long? He’d been so needy for her for months, and now that she was in front of him he hadn’t even kissed her.
“But what about camp?” He tilted his head to the side, reaching a hand out to run his thumb along her cheek.
“I don’t care about camp.” She immediately shook her head, melting into his embrace. “I just want you”
Luke sighed before tugging her forward, his nose brushing against hers. “You know there’s no coming back from this, right?”
“I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.”
Luke’s restraint snapped, and he captured her lips with his in a frenzied motion.
(Y/n) moaned as his hand gripped her throat, applying just the right amount of pressure that sent shivers down her spine.
Despite the months apart, he still knew her intimate desires. The knowledge made her heart pound in anticipation.
Her hands ended up in his curls, tugging at them softly as she desperately pulled him closer. The kiss was rough and desperate with longing, their teeth clashing as they tasted eachother for the first time in months.
“Fuck, I missed you so much.” Luke groaned as he pulled away from her lips and started to kiss down her neck.
(Y/n) crawled into his lap and gripped his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. “I missed you too, don’t ever leave me again.” She pleaded as she felt Luke suck on her neck, no doubt leaving marks along her skin.
Luke grunted as she climbed into his lap, bucking his hips up into hers with a needy whine. “Never again.” He mumbled into her neck, his hands gripping her hips tightly.
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