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pucksandpower · 10 months ago

Text

Hands On

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: celebrations after Lando’s first win get a bit hands on after he notices your obsession with a certain body part

Warnings: 18+ content

Based on this request

The pounding bass rumbles through the Miami club as Lando pulls you close, his arm snaked around your waist. The dim lights cast his face in chiseled shadows as he lets out a whoop of joy.

“We did it!” He yells over the music, eyes bright with elation. “My first bloody win!”

You beam up at him, heart swelling with pride. “I knew you could do it.” Standing on your tiptoes, you plant a lingering kiss on his lips, tasting the tang of celebratory champagne.

Lando grins against your mouth before reluctantly pulling back. “Let’s get a drink to toast, yeah?”

Nodding vigorously, you allow him to lead you through the crowd to the bar. Lando orders some lurid cocktails that probably cost more than an average person’s weekly grocery budget. You don’t care — tonight is for indulging.

As he hands you a glass, his calloused fingers brush yours, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You quickly look away, hoping he didn’t notice. But of course he did.

“Alright there, love?” Lando asks with an amused quirk of his brow.

You force a laugh. “Just, uh … got a chill, that’s all.”

“Mmhmm.” He gives you a look that says he’s not buying it, but allows the subject to drop for now.

The two of you migrate to a plush VIP area, sinking into the soft leather couches. Lando slings an arm around your shoulders and you snuggle into his side, basking in his warmth and earthy scent.

God, you’re so proud of him.

“To us,” Lando murmurs, clinking his glass against yours. “And many more race wins to come.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You take a sip of the violently purple concoction. It tastes like alcoholic cough syrup but you don’t care.

As the alcohol works its magic, you feel yourself relaxing further into Lando’s embrace. Your eyes trace the strong line of his jaw, the delicious smattering of faint freckles, those gloriously long lashes ...

Your gaze catches on his free hand resting on the arm of the couch. You find yourself fixating on those slender fingers, the calluses from years of clutching the steering wheel ...

“Y/N?”

You start, blinking rapidly as Lando’s voice pulls you from your trance. “Huh? Sorry, what?”

“You’re staring again.” His lips quirk in that devilishly handsome half-smile.

Flushing hotly, you look anywhere but at him. Or more specifically, his hands. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you absolutely are.” Lando chuckles, low and teasing. “Go on then, what’s so fascinating?”

You squirm uncomfortably, feeling your face heat up even more. How to put this delicately ...

Apparently catching onto your distraction, Lando sits up straighter, settling his drink on the table with a muffled thunk. “Actually, don’t bother answering that. I think I know.”

Before you can protest, he reaches out to gently grasp your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb strokes your flushed cheek as those clever eyes bore into yours, equal parts amused and intense.

“It’s my hands, isn’t it?” Lando murmurs, voice dropping to a low rumble that has your heart tripping in your chest. “You can’t stop staring at my hands.”

You open your mouth to deny it, but Lando’s penetrating stare has you frozen, the words sticking in your throat. Slowly, you give a tiny nod.

Lando hums in acknowledgement, the pad of his thumb still caressing your skin in a maddeningly distracting way. “They are rather nice hands, to be fair. Years of keeping a firm grip, you know?” He winks at you roguishly.

You make a small, strangled sound in the back of your throat. Goddamn him and his innuendos.

“Would you ...” Lando pauses for dramatic effect, gaze dropping to your parted lips briefly. “Like a closer look?”

Every rational neuron in your brain screams at you to say no, this is too far, you’re in public, oh god. But your desire-muddled mind doesn’t seem to be receiving those signals. Instead, you give another mute nod, feeling yourself leaning the slightest bit closer.

“Yeah?” Lando’s voice is barely more than a gravelly rumble now. “You want my hands on you, don’t you?”

You make a tiny whimpering sound of assent, mouth suddenly bone dry. Your eyes drop of their own accord to those wicked fingers, still cupping your jaw so tenderly.

Lando lets out a quiet chuckle, deliciously sinful. “How bad do you want it, baby?”

Squeezing your thighs together self-consciously, you manage a strangled, “S-So bad ...”

“Good girl.” The praise has you melting into a puddle right there on the couch.

Then, in one torturously slow movement, Lando lowers his hand from your face … trails his knuckles down the column of your neck … over the swell of your chest … all the way to the hem of your skimpy dress. He hooks a finger under the silky material, drawing it up your bare thigh with agonizing leisure.

You inhale a sharp breath at the sensation of his rough skin on your flushed flesh. Your eyelids flutter shut, every nerve ending thrumming with exquisite tension.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back open at Lando’s commanding tone. He gazes back, brows raised in silent challenge. You force yourself to hold his searing gaze as his hand maps lazy circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Good girl,” he praises again, the words liquid sin. “Nice and relaxed for me.”

Despite the burning awareness of being in a public place, you feel yourself subconsciously parting your thighs ever-so-slightly, allowing those talented fingers higher access. Heat pools between your legs, your rapid pulse thrumming double-time.

“God, you’re so wet for me already,” Lando husks in approval. “I fucking love how worked up my hands get you.”

As those dexterous digits tease feather-light strokes over your quickly dampening underwear, you have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to stifle a whimper of shameless need. Every touch from him sets your body alight with feverish want.

“Shhh, inside voice, darling,” he chides quietly, humor dancing in those multicolored eyes. “Don’t want to cause a scene, do we?”

You rapidly shake your head, wholeheartedly agreeing. The last thing you need is for someone to wander over here and catch you being debauched by your boyfriend in a public place.

The thought should probably mortify you more than it does.

Lando gives you a crooked grin, like he can read your deliciously filthy thoughts. “Good girl,” he praises again, rewarding you with another teasing caress between your legs.

You suck in a shuddering breath, spine arching ever-so-slightly as Lando’s sinful fingers work their magic through the damp fabric. He knows every spot that drives you crazy, rubbing and stroking with perfect pressure until your inner muscles quiver with delirious need.

“You’re dripping for me, love,” he murmurs in a thick rumble. “Been thinking about my hands on you all night, haven’t you?”

No use denying it anymore — not with the embarrassingly loud squelches coming from between your shamelessly parted thighs. You give another frantic nod.

Lando makes a tutting sound. “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes,” you force out in a ragged whisper. Already, your breaths are coming faster, the molten coil in your core winding tighter and tighter with every deft stroke. “God, Lando, please ...”

“Since you asked so nicely ...” With those words, he slips one long finger under the sodden lace, finally making direct skin-to-skin contact with your aching heat.

You choke back a moan as he delves into your dripping folds, crooking his finger to find that spot that makes you see stars. Alternating between tight circles and firm strokes, Lando works that magic digit at an agonizingly slow pace. Your hips lift shamelessly into his touch, desperate for more friction.

“So greedy,” he chides with a dark chuckle. But he acquiesces, slipping in a second finger to join the first.

You have to clamp your lips shut to muffle the broken keen that tries to escape. The stretch and burn as he scissors you open is pure bliss. Your inner walls flutter greedily around the delicious intrusion.

“Like that, baby?” Lando’s hot breath ghosts your cheek as he leans in close. “You feel so fucking good stretched around my fingers.”

You nod frantically, nails digging into the buttery leather as he starts pumping those wicked digits in a steady rhythm. Each slick thrust has your whole body tensing and the knot in your core winding ever tighter.

“You take me so well,” he praises in a hoarse rasp. “Always so tight and perfect around my cock too. Can’t wait to be buried in that sweet little pussy later.”

A broken whine escapes you at the filthy promise. Your thighs are trembling now, pleasure spiking through your veins with every curl and drag of those talented fingers. You’re quickly spiraling higher, that euphoric edge looming tantalizingly close ...

Lando’s free hand drifts up to toy with the strap of your dress, tugging it down to bare one straining nipple to the heated air of the club. He leans in to lave his tongue over the tender peak and you practically convulse in his lap. Too much, too good, you’re going to combust-

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your damp skin. “Let go.”

The low, commanding growl is your undoing. With a strangled cry, you shatter apart on his fingers, back arching as the pleasure crashes over you in relentless waves. It whites out your vision, every nerve ending set alight in blinding ecstasy.

You come back to reality cradled in Lando’s arms, his lips brushing reverent kisses over your damp hairline. As the pulses gradually subside, you slump bonelessly against his chest, thoroughly spent.

“That’s my good girl,” Lando murmurs, rich voice laced with smug satisfaction. He slowly retracts his drenched fingers with one final curl that has your body giving a languid shudder.

A blissed-out hum is all the response you can muster right now. Your eyelids are heavy, head swimming in that delicious post-orgasmic haze. Lando chuckles softly, tightening his embrace as he drops another kiss to your brow.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me yet, yeah? The night’s still young, love. Got plenty more celebrations planned for you ...”

***

The door to the lavish hotel suite bursts open with a bang as Lando practically shoves you through the entrance. You stumble slightly on your high heels, drunk on anticipation and champagne fumes. Before you can regain your balance, his strong hands are on you, spinning you around to pin your back against the nearest wall.

“Been wanting to get my hands on you all night,” Lando growls against the sensitive skin just below your ear.

You shiver at the rumbling timbre of his voice, already growing hazy with rekindled desire. “Y-You already did at the club ...”

He rewards your cheek with a teasing graze of teeth. “And you were such a good girl, taking my fingers so nicely in front of everyone.” His hips grind against yours, allowing you to feel every rigid inch of his arousal. “But now I want more. Need to be inside you properly.”

A broken whimper escapes your parted lips as Lando’s hands roam greedily over your body. You arch shamelessly into his possessive grip, craving his burning touch everywhere at once.

“Arms up,” he commands in a gravelly murmur.

You immediately comply, and he wastes no time in dragging your skimpy dress up over your head, leaving you in just a flimsy scrap of lace. His heated gaze rakes over every newly exposed inch of bare skin with undisguised hunger.

“God, look at you ...” Lando exhales a harsh curse through gritted teeth. “I swear you get more gorgeous every bloody day.”

Face flushing beneath his scorching appraisal, you resist the urge to cover yourself with your arms. You know he prefers an unobstructed view.

“Turn around,” he orders in a voice that brokers no argument. “Hands on the wall.”

You spin obediently, biting back a needy whimper as your breasts brush the cool surface. The room suddenly feels several degrees warmer from the blazing anticipation alone.

There’s a pause where you can practically sense Lando’s eyes devouring the lines and curves of your body. You fight the urge to squirm beneath his piercing scrutiny. Then his callused hands are on your hips, squeezing with delicious possessiveness as he steps in to blanket your back with his solid heat.

“Already so wet for me,” Lando observes in a rough purr, dragging your lace underwear aside to reveal your slick folds. “Seem to recall you liking a taste of your own medicine at the club, hmm?”

The tip of his index finger glides through your arousal in one torturously slow pass, gathering the evidence of your desire onto his skin. Before you can so much as draw a shaky breath, he brings that glistening digit to hover just in front of your parted lips.

“Open up, love.”

You moan softly in anticipation, obeying without hesitation. The instant his finger slides into your mouth, your eyes flutter shut in wanton bliss. Your tongue swirls around the thick digit, hungrily lapping up every last trace of your own tangy essence.

“That’s it, nice and sloppy,” Lando praises in a low, heated rumble. “Show me how much you love the way you taste on my fingers.”

Spurred on by his heated words, you begin sucking in earnest, hollowing your cheeks with shameless enthusiasm. The slick sounds of your efforts fill the air, the wet noises doing absolutely nothing to quell the rising tide of arousal between your legs.

Behind you, Lando exhales a harsh curse. “Fuck … so bloody good at that. Should’ve known you’d look perfect with my fingers in your greedy little mouth.”

A fresh gush of arousal floods your center at his filthy words of approval. You can’t help the desperate whine that vibrates around his digit as you increase your pace, desperate to drive him as crazy as he’s driving you.

“Alright, enough teasing now.” There’s the sound of a zipper rasping, then suddenly Lando’s other hand is shoving yours away from the wall and around to grasp his newly freed erection.

You moan again, shocked but overwhelmingly aroused by his boldness. He pumps his length slow and purposeful, engulfing your smaller hand with his larger one to set a languid but firm pace.

“Good girl, that’s it ...” he rasps out harshly. “Wanna feel how hard you’ve got me, baby? Aching to be inside your perfect cunt ...”

At his filthy words, your core pulses with a fresh rush of molten want. You can feel the fat head of his shaft nudging demandingly against the crease of your thigh, leaving smears of pearly fluid on your heated skin.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, Lando spins you back around to face him. His eyes are blazing with dark, predatory hunger as he swiftly sheds the rest of your flimsy underwear. Then he’s hauling you up by the backs of your thighs, pinning you against the wall with his hips nestled firmly against your aching core.

“Tell me what you want,” he rumbles in a tone of deliciously wicked authority. The thick head of his erection drags through your slick folds in one maddening tease after another.

You whine high in your throat, scrabbling at his broad shoulders for purchase. “P-Please, Lando! Need you inside me ...”

“Need me to what?” He tilts his hips in a slow, torturous grind, spreading your arousal in a slick glaze. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Fuckmefuckmefuckme ...” The desperate mantra spills shamelessly from your lips as you try to pull him closer.

Lando rewards your begging with a wolfish grin. “As you wish.”

And with one slick thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, stretching and filling you in the most exquisite way. Twin groans echo through the suite — his a guttural growl, yours a high-pitched mewl of relief.

There’s an endless moment where you both simply still, savoring the friction of being so intimately joined. Lando’s forehead drops to your shoulder, the pair of you panting harshly against one another’s sweat-slicked skin.

Then he starts to move.

It starts with a slow roll of his hips, languid but purposeful strokes that drag his length through every last velvet inch before pulling nearly all the way out. You clutch desperately at the carved muscles of his back as he sets a relentless pace, each powerful thrust punching the air from your lungs.

“So tight ...” he grits out in a gravelly burr. “Taking me so deep, god, you feel incredible...”

You can only whimper helplessly in response, overwhelmed by the feeling. Every nerve is alight with shuddering bliss.

Soon Lando’s lazy rhythm devolves into harsh, pounding strokes, the harsh clap of flesh on flesh echoing like thunder. The solid wall at your back provides delicious traction as your boyfriend jackhammers up into your fluttering heat with rapidly mounting frenzy.

“Yes … yesyesyes!” The breathless affirmations tear from your lips in sync with each punishing slap of his hips.

“Can hear how much you love this, getting pounded against the wall like a desperate little thing,” Lando rumbles with dark approval. “Am I hitting all those perfect spots, baby? Making that greedy cunt squeeze me so damn tight?”

“So close, so close!” You chant in a high, thready whine. Your release is rapidly building, that glorious crest just out of reach.

As if sensing your desperation, Lando shifts his grip so one hand can snake between your bodies. His clever fingers instantly find the swollen bundle of nerves at your apex and start working tight, purposeful circles with just the right amount of pressure.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god ...” The frantic mantra punches from your lungs in time with his feral thrusts. You can feel yourself teetering right at that blissful precipice, every nerve pulled tourniquet-tight with impending release.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Lando coaxes in a rough growl. “Let go for me. Wanna feel you come all over my cock ...”

His filthy words are your undoing. With a sobbing cry, your vision whites out in a supernova of shattering ecstasy. Pleasure rockets through your veins in pulsing waves, every muscle locked in the most beautiful torment. Vaguely, you feel Lando snarling curses against the fevered skin of your neck as your convulsing walls grip him in scorching velvet vice.

When your senses finally begin drifting back to you, Lando is peppering your sweat-dampened face with gentle kisses. He brushes the mussed hair from your brow tenderly, eyes brimming with naked adoration.

“So perfect for me,” he murmurs in hushed reverence. “Every bloody time. Fuck, I love watching you fall apart.”

You manage a weak, boneless smile at the affectionate praise, still riding the afterglow. You feel deliciously hollowed out, pleasantly achy in all the right places. Like every muscle has turned to warm honey.

After another moment, Lando carefully lowers your trembling legs until your wobbly knees find purchase on the plush carpeting. He frames your face with those gloriously rough hands, calluses catching on the flush of your cheeks.

“That good for you, love?” He asks with a hint of gentle teasing.

“Mhmm ...” You nod drowsily, leaning into his solid palm. “S’always good with you.”

Lando’s answering smile is bright enough to power every chandelier in the lavish suite.

***

“Baby, where are you? I’m home!”

Lando’s voice rings out as the door to your shared flat opens with a muffled snick. You pause your lounging on the couch, book falling forgotten to your lap as he steps inside, hauling a discreet black bag.

“In here!” You call out with a smile, already tingling with curiosity.

He appears in the doorway, flashing you that signature crooked grin that always has your insides melting. “There’s my gorgeous girl. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

You sit up a little straighter, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Rather than answer, Lando moves to the couch and deposits the bag between you two with a heavy thunk. Your brows shoot up quizzically.

“Well someone’s being mysterious,” you tease, giving the matte exterior an experimental prod. “What’s in this, Mister Norris?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” There’s a wicked glint in his eyes as he gestures towards the zipper pull.

Fighting a grin, you obligingly grasp the metal tab and pull, allowing the discreet covering to gape open. The first thing you register is a tangle of padded straps and buckles in sleek black leather. Then your eyes catch on the protruding shape nestled securely in the center … and you promptly choke on your own tongue.

It’s a hand. Or rather, a perfectly molded silicone model of one — every crease and callus captured in lifelike detail down to each delicate whorling fingerprint.

A whimper catches in your throat as realization slams into you with dizzying force. This hand … this hand with those long, talented fingers you’ve fantasized about more times than you can count … this hand is modeled after Lando’s.

“Oh my god ...” The words slip out in a strangled exhale. “Lando, is this ...”

His expression is carefully neutral, but the fiery glint in his eyes gives away his smug satisfaction. “You’re always going on about how much you love my hands. Figured you deserve to have the full experience whenever you want it, love.”

“I ...” Words temporarily fail you as you lift the shockingly realistic appendage free of its padded enclosure. The weight and articulation is uncanny, from the subtle flare of knuckles to the blunt tips of each digit. It’s almost unsettling how realistic it is.

You glance up to find Lando observing you with dark, hooded interest. His tongue darts out to wet his lips in a reflexive tell of arousal.

“What do you think?” He asks in a low, rough murmur. “Want to take it for a test drive?”

Heat lances straight to your core at the blatant suggestion. You reflexively squeeze the silicone digits in your grip, reveling in the slinky give and firm resistance. Already you can vividly imagine those fingers pumping into your dripping heat, stretching and stroking with that same delicious friction you’ve come to crave ...

“Y/N?” Lando’s voice pulls you from your lust-hazed daze. His eyes are blazing now, pupils blown wide. “Need you to use your words, sweetheart ...”

You make a small, needy sound as your thighs instinctively shift in subtle search of friction. “Yes … yes, I want to try it. Please ...”

That’s all the encouragement he seems to need. In the span of a heartbeat, Lando is divesting you of your thin cotton shorts and guiding your legs apart to settle between them on the couch. The hand rests heavy and solid in his palm as he holds it aloft, allowing you an unobstructed view.

You bite your lip against a whimper, already flushing with a heady cocktail of arousal and shameless anticipation. Lando’s lashes dip to half-mast as he brings the sculpted digits to his lips and lays a reverent kiss to each knuckle.

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” he rumbles in that low, raspy tone that never fails to have you melting. And then, with agonizing leisure, he trails the smooth pads down your chest … over the soft swell of your stomach … through the damp thatch of curls at your apex ...

A gasp punches from your lungs at the first glancing stroke against your folds. This may be an inanimate object, but its perfected shape coupled with Lando’s practiced touch feels so exquisitely familiar. Like the real thing is finally breaching that aching place inside you ...

“Bloody hell, you’re already dripping,” Lando observes in a rough growl. The flexed digits slide through your arousal in one slick pass, gathering your essence onto the sleek silicone. “Is this what you were thinking about, love? Having my fingers buried knuckle-deep in that greedy little cunt?”

You can only whimper and nod frantically as he draws tantalizingly close again. That unhurried brush of solid firmness against your most sensitive flesh already has your inner muscles fluttering desperately.

“Tell me what you want,” Lando rumbles in a tone of smoldering command. Those clever fingers circle your aching entrance, spreading your slick arousal in a torturous tease.

“T-The hand,” you stammer out in a pitchy whine. “Lando, please ... I need it i-inside me ...”

A wolfish grin curves his lips as he rewards your obedience with a searing kiss. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are blazing with liquid smoke.

“As you wish.”

Then Lando is tipping the toy at just the right angle to catch on your swollen entrance. With one smooth, purposeful thrust, he sheaths every last inch to the knuckle root inside your clenching heat.

The fullness is glorious, that solid silicone bulk stretching you wide in the most delicious way. Every delicate ridge and contour drags against your velvet walls with maddening friction with the slightest movement.

“Fuck ...” Lando practically snarls the curse through gritted teeth as he begins pumping the toy in a slow, purposeful rhythm. “So goddamn hot seeing you grip it like this, baby … squeezing so perfectly tight.”

You can only whimper helplessly in response, overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation. With each careful stroke, Lando angles the silicone fingers to create a firm nudge against that spongy cluster of nerves. Jolts of electricity hoot up your spine until you’re shuddering and whimpering.

“There you are ...” Lando’s voice is a rumbling growl of smug satisfaction as he locates that magic spot. “Squirming like a desperate little thing on my hand.”

To punctuate his words, he rotates his wrist with a purposeful flex of hard knuckles against your tender front wall. The exquisite pressure has your hips jerking upward in a helpless spasm, eyes flying open to lock gazes with your wickedly grinning boyfriend.

“Like that, do you?” He husks, lips brushing your cheek. “Never seen you make noises like this before. So hungry for my fingers buried deep...”

As if to emphasize the slick sounds already filling the air, Lando picks up the tempo of his thrusts in rapid, punishing strokes. The squelches are more erotic than anything you’ve ever heard as he rails you open on that delightfully thick silicone.

“Oh god, oh g-god ...” The desperate mantra spills shamelessly from your lips as white sparks begin bursting across your vision.

“Let it happen, baby,” he coaxes. “Need to see those gorgeous walls fluttering when you come ...”

With a startled cry, your spine bows off the cushions as your long-awaited climax finally detonates. Searing pleasure lances through every nerve ending in tsunami waves. You’re vaguely aware of choking out Lando’s name over and over in a breathless keen, your inner muscles flexing uselessly around the thick silicone toy.

When you finally drift back down, it’s to the feeling of damp hair being brushed from your brow. You blink blearily to find Lando gazing down at you with naked awe and unguarded adoration.

“You’re a vision like this,” he murmurs reverently. The hand-shaped toy is finally, carefully extracted with a slick sucking sound that has you flushing. “So beautifully ruined all because of my hand ...”

In a tender gesture, Lando cradles the back of your skull and brings the glistening silicone digits to your parted lips. The clean, musky tang of your own arousal coats every contour.

“Clean it up, love,” he commands. “Know how much you love the taste ...”

You moan faintly at the filthy demand, feeling a fresh slick of heat pooling between your legs. But there’s no way you can deny him this or yourself the heady intimacy of such an act. So with hooded lashes, you obediently part your lips and take those thick fingers onto your awaiting tongue.

Lando’s low groan of approval vibrates through your very bones as you seal your lips in a tight ‘O’ and suck with wanton fervor. The harsh breaths punching from his lungs spur you on, swirling your tongue over every crease and imprint hungrily.

“So fuckiny gorgeous,” he grits out in a tone of strained reverence. “You have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?”

As if to emphasize his words, Lando shifts position — and you suddenly become aware of the painfully rigid line of his erection pressing against your hip. With a needy whine, you instinctively grind up against that hot, insistent length through the thin barrier of his athletic shorts.

Your boyfriend’s lashes flutter as he bites back a growl. “Easy there, minx. You’re going to get me inside you soon enough.” He nips sharply at the bolt of your jaw, silicone fingers still working your slack mouth in shallow thrusts. “But first I want to watch you come apart on the real thing one more time ...”

A full-bodied shudder races through you at the dark promise underlining his words. With a pitchy sound of submission, you allow your heavy eyelids to slip shut and your jaw to unhinge obediently around the thoroughly used toy.

Every expert curl and flick of those clever digits is centered on the singular goal of dismantling you again. You’re powerless to resist, simply allowing the heady l sensations to crest higher and higher. Lando’s hoarse rumbles of encouragement cradle you, pushing you higher until you finally shatter into sublime oblivion once more.

And fuck, you love it when Lando’s hands on.

1K notes · View notes

revelboo · 3 months ago

Note

I absolutely love your writing! Scratches my brain just right! How do you think they would react to tattoos? I'm pretty much covered and just curious about your thoughts!

Tattoo Reaction Scenarios

Various Transformers x Reader

IDW Starscream

• Skimming his lips against your neck, Starscream feels you shiver when his denta graze you. Optics devouring as he lazily maps you out with his mouth and servos. Lingering on the colorful designs inked on your soft skin. “I like these decorations.”

• “They’re tattoos.” Sprawled on your belly beside him, you feel his servos tracing along your shoulder and lingering there. “Do you guys do anything like this?” Inhaling as he finds the one on your hip with gentle touches.

• “Decorating our armor plating is fairly common,” he replies, moving your hair aside to trace over your neck. He’d never bothered with the practice, liking himself the way he is, but he likes the art decorating your skin. “Some change their color schemes regularly.”

• Rolling onto your back, his optics heat as he looms over you. “You could write out your name for me in Cybertronian characters and I could get it tattooed somewhere,” you tease, tugging at his wrist so you can lay his servos against your collar bone. “Maybe here.” Pulling his down to your inner thigh, you grin as his expression becomes possessive. “Or here.”

IDW Sunstreaker

• Ignoring the twins doing their own things, you turn your back to them and pull your sweater off over your head, stripping down to a tank top. Because for once, it’s not freezing cold. Or maybe, you’re running a fever. Sitting crosslegged to fold the sweater, you don’t even realize Sunstreaker has moved until a big servo touches your shoulder nearly scaring you to death. Something that big shouldn’t be that quiet when he wants to be. Reaching back, you swat him. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

• Ignoring your annoyance, his optics trail over your shoulders and upper back. Studying the colorful designs winding over your skin that you’d kept hidden. You’d made yourself a canvas, so why hide it? “Different artists,” he murmurs, servo tracing a pattern on your bicep.

• There’s no judgment in his tone, just curiosity and it eases the tension bracketing your spine. Reaching, you touch one. “Yeah, I designed this one,” you say, chin lifting. “This one a friend sketched out.” You wonder what he thinks of them, unwilling to explain their meanings to him just yet. Some of them still hurt you if you dwell on them like the script on the inside of your wrist with a signature painstakingly copied.

• Fascinated, he explores each one. Wondering what they mean, the stories behind them. Also knowing from the way your jaw is set, that you’re not ready entrust them to him just yet. Venting softly, he turns over his wrist, servos tracing a scar marring his otherwise pristine paint. Not art, but a mark with a story and your eyes study it and then lift to his optics. “A story for a story?” He offers and you smile slightly.

IDW Bluestreak

• “Needles?” He ask, his tone so dismayed you almost laugh as his servos hover over your skin. Not touching you, because he’s always so conscious of your personal space. Afraid of upsetting you or crossing a boundary he’s not allowed. “Didn’t that hurt?”

• “It gets easier every time,” you say, catching his big servo in your hands and pulling. And finally he cautiously touches your arm and the scrolling tattoo there. “I kind of look forward to that little bite of pain now.” Door wings lifting slightly at that, he can understand all too well needing pain to ground yourself. You’re like him, then. Carrying around something you keep hidden inside.

TF Earthspark Megatron

• “Gladiators painted themselves before battle. To inspire themselves and to instill fear in their opponents,” he murmurs as he gestures at the ink peeking out at your collar. He’d worn such paint in the pits, remembers striding out under those blinding lights as the bloodthirsty crowd looked down and screamed his name. Fans that would still cheer whether or not he survived his next battle. “They usually weren’t permanent marks, though.”

• He sounds so melancholy as you reach to touch his servos, bridging the distance between you both and surprising him. “If you ever want to talk about it?” Smiling ruefully, he gently traces your cheek with a servo. And you know it’s a no. Or at least a not yet. Laying your palm against his lingering servo, you begin to speak. Explaining your tattoos and showing them to him. Reaching out even if he’s not ready to share with you just yet.

TFP Ratchet

• “Another one?” He growls, spotting that shiny stuff taped to the inside of your wrist. Knowing you’ve gone and had another human embed ink under your skin again even though he can’t understand why. The designs are pretty enough, but he’d done some research and he knows it’s a painful process. So why harm yourself for art?

• Rolling your eyes, you ghost your fingertips over the dressing covering your tattoo. Still too new and sore, but you wonder what he’ll think of it when he realizes you had tattooed his cross with the Autobot insignia inside it on yourself. Most likely, he’ll just gape at you and get flustered. But you’d wanted to wear his badge, wanted something permanent of him to carry for the rest of your life.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #ratchet x reader #bluestreak x reader #sunstreaker x reader

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babydollisdead · 3 months ago

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AGAPE - JINX X READER

contains: fluff, g/n reader, really short, no proofread

warnings: none

summary: you help jinx fall asleep.

A/N: This is my first time ever writing one of these!! I hope you enjoy. Sorry if she seems a little out of character, I’ll write a better one soon lolz.

“Jinx..?” You called softly from the couch in her.. “room.” She had been sitting at her desk for hours now, and all you could hear was mumbled curses and what sounded like power tools every so often. And the occasional spray paint can, of course.

When you didn’t get an answer, you huffed and rolled your eyes. She had said she’d be done a while ago. You trot closer to her, rubbing your sleepy eyes. But as soon as you see her hunched over form, you know something’s wrong.

Her shoulders are tense, and the way her hair is frizzy around her braids shows she’s been tugging at it. She fiddles around with some odd thing she’s creating, her nimble fingers making it look effortless.

“God dammit..” She mumbled, a small groan leaving her lips. You step closer slowly, tapping her shoulder. She slowly glanced up, a tired look on her face.

“You know, you said you’d be done a while ago.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. She rolls her eyes and smirks a little. “Got carried away. Sorry, toots.”

She goes to look back down at her.. well, whatever the hell she was making, and you quickly stop her.

“C’mon, Jinx. It’s late.” You give her a bit of a look, which earns a small groan from her. “You always are bothering me..” She huffs out as she stands up from her chair. You know it came from a place of love.

You were really one of the only people she trusted these days. Where everyone else failed, you seemed to not. It was almost fascinating to her. Jinx had gone so long keeping everyone at a distance, safe for the few she was close with.

But something about you.. just made her love you. She did kinda hate it. She’d say it was because you turned her into a lame sap, but deep down it’s because she’s scared.

Loving something meant you now have something to lose. And that was never a good thing.

She stretched, a few bones cracking. You smiled a little at how sleepy she seemed. “Those energy drinks ain’t working anymore, huh?” You teased, tugging lightly on her arm towards the couch. “I need to inject it into my veins.” She whined and you chuckled lightly.

You plopped down against the couch and she followed, flopping down right on top of you. A small sigh left her lips, and you could feel the tension leave her body. As if on cue, you rested a hand in her hair, running it over the blue braids.

“You ever gonna cut all this hair?” You spoke softly, watching as she cuddled into you. She shrugged. “I dunno. I think it’s part of my whole.. persona now.” She grinned and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“If you ever want to, i’ll help. Make it look all nice and not choppy.” You suggested. Her chin was resting on your chest. She gazed into your eyes for a moment, and it was a bit intimidating.

The way her eyes gleamed pink, almost blowing. You’d seen those eyes hold all different kinds of emotions, and still the intensity of them never failed to make you shiver.

Jinx then suddenly pressed a bunch of kisses to your face, and you squeaked before giggling. “W-what are you doing?” You spoke through giggles. She pulled away, a smug look on her face before she settled back down onto you. You could only imagine how dazed you look, all goofy and smitten with a bunch of dark kiss marks on your face.

“Just wanted to kiss you.” She hummed out, closing her eyes as she buried her face in her arms. Something she always did when she slept. You’d know. You spent so many nights just watching her as she slept peacefully.

You snorted. “God, you’re such a sap.” You spoke, continuing to play with her blue locks. “Your fault.” She retorted. A small smile remained on your lips as you sighed and cuddled close to her.

“Goodnight, Jinx.” You whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She didn’t say anything, but you did hear her huff softly, and she cuddled closer into you.

Actions always speak louder than words.

#arcane #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #fluff #fanfic #league of legends #gender neutral reader #arcane fanfic

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darlingdaisyfarm · 1 month ago

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Hi!! I love your writing!!!!! Could I request some totally self indulgent headcanons or a small Drabble/fic? Ford x reader on their birthday! It’s my birthday in a few weeks and I just really want my fictional man there 😭😂 but I thought I’d ask early in case your inbox was full! Thank you! ❤️

when the scientist loves you | Ford Pines x reader

hii angel, happy birthday!! ♡ i hope your day is as lovely as you are, may this year bring you endless inspiration, happy moments and everything your heart desires! ♡ ♡ ♡

tags: birthday, fluff, sfw, established relationship

Ford's voice carries softly from the kitchen, muttering as he reads measurements off an old recipe card. You sit at the table, watching the back of his head tilt toward the stovetop. The apron Mabel gave him, the one with "may the fork be with you" scribbled across the front in obnoxious block letters, look ridiculously cute tied over his sweater.

“You look very dignified in that, professor,” you tease, propping your chin on your hand.

Ford turns his head to shoot you a dry look, though there’s a tug of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Sweetheart, you know, my culinary doctorate doesn’t let me cook in anything else.” he teases you back.

You laugh and Ford straightens a little, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his wrist.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you look at the table where a neatly folded napkin waits beside a single glass of wine. “it’s just a birthday.”

He glances over his shoulder, his face expression changes into serious one. “Just a birthday?” he repeats incredulously. “this is the day the universe decided to grace existence with you. The fact that you think it’s ‘just’ anything is absurd.”

You're staring at him in silence right now because, to be honest, you can't find the right words to respond to such a compliment. And as if satisfied with your surprised cute face, Ford turns back to the stovetop, missing the way your lips press together to suppress a smile.

“Besides,” he adds, stirring whatever’s in the pan, “i’ve run calculations. The probability of me burning this is well below fifteen percent.”

“Comforting.” your answer makes Stanford smirk, but he keeps his focus on his work.

Minutes later, he places the plate in front of you with both satisfaction and concern on his face. “honesty, no pressure, but if it’s terrible, i might die of shame. . .”

You roll your eyes at your husband because how does a man that smart always doubt and criticize himself?

Taking a bite, your lips turn into smile, the taste becomes warm and pleasant, pulling a hum of approval from your chest. “Ford, this is amazing?”

He exhales with relief and pulls out the chair beside you. “Good, i wasn’t sure if the seasoning would—”

“You’re incredible,” you interrupt and Ford stops mid-sentence as the tips of his ears turn red.

“Believe me, my love, you deserve nothing less.”

You eat together and at one point, he picks up the fork himself, offering you another bite. Once the plates are cleared, he stands abruptly, holding out his hand. “Lets go, sweetheart.”

“Where?” you ask, letting him pull you to your feet.

“You’ll see.” you barely have time to grab your coat before he’s leading you toward the door. His six fingered hand feels so warm in yours as you step outside into the cool air. “Close your eyes,” he says, and when you hesitate, he squeezes your hand. “trust me.”

You huff but obey, curling your fingers against his. Ford proudly guides you through the woods as he starts talking enthusiastically. “You know, if we were walking blindfolded through the quantum multiverse instead of this forest, you’d have a thirty-five percent chance of stepping into a dimension where time runs backward.”

You grin, keeping your eyes closed. “Fascinating.” you're parodying his catchphrase. “should i be worried about that here?”

“Unlikely,” he deadpans, though you can hear the smirk in his tone. “but if you hear an oscillating sound, let me know immediately.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously well-prepared.” some minutes later the ground beneath your feet changes texture, the soft crunch of dirt giving way to grass, and Ford’s pace slows.

“Are we there yet?” you ask impatiently.

“Almost, darling. Okay, stop. You can open your eyes.” you hesitate, preparing yourself before letting your eyelids flutter open. The sight in front of you makes you gasp.

Ahead of you, nestled in the clearing, is a flower that glows, it's long and translucent petals, curved outward, are made of the thinnest glass. Luminous veins, similar in color to silver, pulsate through them. The center shimmers with different colors, like the aurora borealis trapped in a single bloom.

“Ford. . .” you take a step forward, the damp grass pressing under your shoes, but you can’t look away. You turn your head slightly, glancing at him. Ford is staring at the flower too, the bright light from the flower is reflected in his glasses, but his expression isn’t the detached curiosity he usually wears while talking about his discoveries. It’s different now, gentler.

“A luminaria eximia,” Ford explains, predicting your question. “it’s rare, very rare, it only blooms under specific conditions.”

“You brought me here to see this?”

“Of course,” he replies with intonation as if the question confuses him. “you deserve extraordinary things.”

Your chest tightens and the tears you’ve been holding back sting at the edges of your vision. You don’t want him to see, don’t want to ruin the moment with your sudden wave of overwhelming emotion, so you turn away and close the space between you and him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest.

Ford stiffens, caught off guard by your reaction. Did he do something wrong? That's his first reaction, worry and concern for you, but then he relaxes, settling his hands settling your back, hugging you too. The time he spent with you made him know exactly what to do without you needing to ask and explain.

“Hey, hey,” he says gently, leaning down. “now what’s this?”

You shake your head, tightening your arms around him. “You—” you hate how your voice trembles, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

Ford chuckles. “sweetheart, of course i did, i wanted to.”

You lift your head slightly, still not letting him see your face, and his hand moves to your chin, tilting it upward until you have no choice but to meet his attentive gaze.

“You deserve this,” his thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek. “you deserve everything.” his words unravel you completely and he must see it because his brows knit together with concern before softening again. His six-fingered hands cup your face gently, treating you like his precious artifact he’s vowed to protect. “you mean so much to me, i don’t know how else to say it except—”

But you don’t let him finish. You lean up, standing on your toes to close the small distance between you, and kiss him. The first reason is just because you want to, and the second is because that smartass needs to shut up with his touching speeches before you flood the whole field with your tears. Ford freezes for a moment, startled, but then his hands find your face and he deepens it carefully, afraid of breaking the moment.

You don’t know how long you stay like that because you're ready to spend eternity with his lips on yours, kissing you slowly, so sensually, softly, so damn tenderly, trying to memorize the shape of your mouth while his thumbs moving in slow arcs over your cheeks.

When you finally pull back, his hair ruffled from your hands, Ford looks at you as though you’ve just rewritten the laws of the universe. “oh, you really do have a way of surprising me.” he raises his eyebrows.

“Takes one to know one,” the corner of your mouth lifting as you run your finger over his jawline.

He laughs at that and after one last lingering glance at the luminous flower, he takes your hand again. “come on,” his voice changes into more teasing. “i haven’t even given you your present yet.”

“This wasn’t it?” you ask, gesturing back toward the flower as he starts to lead you out of the clearing.

“No, this was. . . an extra. A bonus, if you will.”

“Ah, an extra,” you repeat teasingly. “you’re ridiculous, Stanford Pines.”

“You already said that.”

By the time you step inside the Mystery Shack, the lingering chill of the evening has melted away. The warm glow of the lamps greets you and Ford’s hand lingers on yours before he releases it. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair. You follow suit, watching as he rubs his hands together nervously, before giving you a soft lopsided smile.

“Wait here for a moment!” and though you’re still glowing from the earlier surprises, his tone piques your curiosity again. He disappears, leaving you standing there, before you can ask any questions.

When your husband returns, he’s holding a small wooden box, polished as though he carved it himself. Its edges are rounded and there’s a mark burned into the top: his initials, alongside yours.

“This,” and for all his brilliance, his voice sounds so nervous as he holds it out to you. “this is for. . . you.”

You take the box carefully and lift the lid. Inside, on a piece of dark fabric, is a necklace. No, calling it a necklace doesn’t do it justice. It’s far more otherworldly, the pendant a swirling prism of beautiful colors that change, reminding you of the starlight caught in a bottle.

You stare at it, not daring to find the words.

“It’s called a crystallite shard,” Ford explains again. “i found it on one of my expeditions. It only exists in one dimension and it’s said to reflect the thoughts of the person wearing it. Not their memories exactly, but their essence, in a way.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “Ford. . .”

“I thought,” he continues, “that if anyone deserved to have something so unique and unrepeatable, it would be you.”

You’re speechless, brushing your finger over the pendant as it gleams under the light of the Mystery Shack.

And before you can say something, ”b-but that’s not all,” Ford gestures to the box. You tilt it slightly and see another layer beneath the fabric: a small, intricately detailed wooden charm, shaped like a constellation. More simple compared to the necklace, but so beautiful in its own way.

“I carved that,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s. . . it’s the constellation we saw the first time we stargazed together. I wanted you to have something from me, personally.”

Your heart swells and before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around his neck, clutching him tightly. “Ford, you didn’t have to. This is. . . this is so perfect.”

Stanford smiles softly, wrapping his arms around you. “you deserve perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you deserve more than I could ever give, darling.”

“This is more than enough,” you pull back to look into his eyes.

Ford akes the necklace from the box. “May i?” what a damn gentleman, you think and nod, turning around as he drapes it carefully around your neck. When he’s finished, you touch the pendant lightly, marveling at the way it seems to shift with your movements. “It suits you, matches your beautiful eyes.” he just stands there and can't stop admiring you.

You both end up on the couch not long after, wrapped in the softest blanket he could find. Ford's arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you against him. But some time later, blanket is forgotten as his hands desperately, but gently explore every part of you they can reach, your back, your arms, the curve of your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ford brushes his lips against your hair. “i hope you know that.”

You laugh. “well, you tell me often enough.”

“Not often enough,” he says firmly, cupping your cheek. “i don’t think i could ever say it enough or show you enough. You're everything i don’t deserve but can’t let go of.”

“Ford—” you start, but he doesn’t let you speak, kissing you, stealing the words from your mouth. Ford tilts your head gently, threading his long fingers into your hair as the kiss grows with aching intensity, damn, he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, clutching at him.

“Every time i touch you, i can’t believe you’re real.” he breathes out between kisses, trailing his lips down to your jaw, then your neck. He pauses there, pressing another kiss just below your ear. “your skin,” his hands trace the line of your shoulders. “so warm, i could stay like this forever.”

You can’t even reply, not when he’s kissing you like this, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

Then he leans back only to take your hands in his, bringing them to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “these hands, they’ve done so much. They’ve built a life for us, cared for me in ways i never thought i’d experience again. They’re precious to me.” you bite your lower lip when his mouth finds the delicate skin of your wrists. “and this heart,” he presses his lips where your pulse beats steadily. “so full of love, so generous, i’m in awe of it every single day.”

“So beautiful, every part of you. I could spend a lifetime just looking at you, touching you, loving you. I just love you, love you so much it terrifies me sometimes.”

You can’t find the words to respond, so you just lean into him, burying your face in his neck as he holds you. His hands never stop moving, caressing and holding you, trying to reassure himself that you’re here, that you’re his. Because you damn deserve to be cherished, every inch of you deserves to be kissed, to be loved. And Ford Pines will spend the rest of his life making sure you know that.

“Come here, darling, closer, need you closer,” he pulls you deeper into his embrace, his lips are on you again, kissing your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. You giggle when he presses another kiss to your temple, then to your ear. “do you know how long i’ve waited to hold you like this? to touch you, to love you? it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but he doesn’t stop, cradling your face in both hands. “youre extraordinary, every part of you. your mind, your heart, your body. I don’t know how i got so lucky, but i’ll never stop trying to be worthy of you. You're everything to me and i’ll spend every day reminding you of that. Happy birthday, darling, thank you for letting me love you.” Ford kisses you until you’re dizzy, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to keep up.

#ford pines x reader #stanford pines headcanons #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #stanford pines #ford pines smut #ford pines #stanford pines x you #grunkle ford #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x you #ford pines x oc #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls headcanons

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imsofreakingtired · 1 month ago

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Hi! I love your writing <3

I wanted to ask,can you please write something about really drunk Sevika being vulnerable with reader and reader comforting her?

Maybe drunk Sev talking about how tired she is or her expressing some insecurity?

anon i love this ask so much, here u go<3

tired (angst, hurt/comfort)

content warning(s): alcohol abuse, heavy(ish?) angst

“you haven’t felt right for days is it the fact you never say what comes in your mind that day? maybe it’s time to shut away ‘cause i’ve never really felt okay.”

~~~

You can’t find Sevika anywhere—she’s not at the Last Drop, she’s not at the harbor, and no one in the Shimmer warehouse has seen her all day. You finally find her up in Silco’s empty office, sitting on the couch, nursing a bottle of hard liquor and staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Her prosthetic arm is detached, propped up against the low table. You remember that Silco’s away on a trip uptown for the night, something about him needing to buy things for Jinx’s room. The room is so silent you can hear everything in the streets outside—the fights, the drunk laughter, the rumble of wheels. Somewhere deep beneath the building you hear the distant boom of an explosion—Jinx must be working on her experiments.

“Sevika?” you say in a low voice. She gives a start, stares at you like she’s never seen you before.

“Hey,” she says. Her gaze is slightly unfocused, and in the dim light of the lamp the rings beneath her grey eyes look deeper and heavier than you remembered.

“You okay?”

You approach her slowly. You’ve never seen her like this before—sitting in this slouched position, hand limp, absent-minded. You feel a sudden concern. Is she sick? But that was like wondering if the sun shined at night. Sevika didn’t get sick.

“I’m fine,” Sevika says gruffly.

You feel her forehead anyway. Half-heartedly, she bats your hand away. You’re closer to her now and can smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Hey,” Sevika says again. “Why do you stick around?”

“What?”

She raises the bottle to her mouth, but seems to decide even that motion requires too much energy. She lets the bottle roll onto the floor. It was empty anyway.

“I’d leave me, y’know, if I could,” Sevika mutters. “So why don’t you.”

Then you understand. The slurring of words. The heavy tone. She’s drunk. This is somehow even more alarming than if she were sick. Sevika doesn’t get drunk. She has a powerful alcohol tolerance and disciplines herself with a limit to how much she can drink each day. She can’t afford to get carried away, doesn’t have the time to let herself fully escape from the world. There’s just too much to do. Silencing Silco’s opponents. Overseeing shipments. Bribing Piltie suppliers. Making deals with the magistrates of Zaunite districts. And, lately, cleaning up Jinx’s messes.

At any rate, though, she’s drunk now—no doubt about it. You’re almost fascinated. Working at the Last Drop, you’ve seen any number of drunks: some sobbed loudly about past wrongs, some picked violent fights, some jumped up on tables and sang. But Sevika is collected even in intoxication. Her voice is subdued, and she looks more tired than anything.

“I stick around because I care about you,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting down beside Sevika.

“I’m no good,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m no good. You deserve better.”

“Don’t say that, Sevi. It isn’t true.”

There’s something desperate in the way she’s looking at you—a raw plea in her eyes. You cup her face in your hand, raising her chin to look her in the eye. “Hey,” you say softly. “It’s okay. Talk to me.”

She looks away. “I feel like I’m holding up a crumbling brick wall. I’m walking through these streets and I see these kids, you know, playing in the gutter and looking up at me with their hungry eyes, and my chest gets so tight I think I might die.” She shakes her head, draws in a shuddering breath. “It’s never enough. No matter what I do, what choices I make. It’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

“You’re doing all you can.”

“I’ve done horrible things. I close my eyes and I see these…these faces, these twisted angry faces, cursing me for what I’ve done to them.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“I had the choices. I made all the wrong decisions.” Her voice breaks and she stops abruptly, biting her lip. “I just…I just don’t know myself anymore.”

“I know you,” you tell her. “And I know you’re doing your best. I know you’re more than enough.”

She looks at you tiredly. You wrap your arms around her, rubbing her broad shoulders.

“It's okay, Sevi. I’m here.”

With a deep sigh she rests her head in your lap, and you stroke her hair until she falls asleep. You don’t leave her side even after you hear her slowed breathing. You stay there, running your fingers through her hair, threading out the heavy thoughts, warding away the nightmares. She won’t remember this in the morning. She would deny she ever gave a thought to any of what she told you, let alone spoke them aloud. So you store her secrets in your heart for her. If you could take away her burdens by doubling your own, you would.

In her sleep, Sevika clings tightly to you.

#what do you MEAN i have 12+ hours of homework that i'm ignoring to write sevi angst.#ngl yall writing this one broke me a little bit #okay it broke me a lot #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika angst #sevika x female reader #sevika fanfic #song: tired by beabadoobee

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ivymarquis · 10 months ago

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Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave.

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him.

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger.

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either.

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back.

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification.

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy.

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it.

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face.

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children.

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine.

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access.

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore.

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further.

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it.

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly.

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his.

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore.

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children.

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt.

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to.

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name.

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air.

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate.

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her.

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities.

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home.

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss.

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John.

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely.

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd.

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake.

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife.

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John.

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress.

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her.

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong.

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night.

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has.

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden.

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan.

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed.

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed.

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming.

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her.

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits.

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.”

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally- and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance.

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down.

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion.

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest.

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control.

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted.

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children.

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her.

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely.

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules.

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions.

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it.

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down.

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?”

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#captain john price #John Price x reader #john price x you #captain price smut #dub con #dark!fic #<- that is just my typical 'catch all' blocklist tag for anyone who doesn't wanna read anything dark/dubious/etc.#I am being conservative with using the tag pinky promise #my writing

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alba1221141 · 2 months ago

Text

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Jinx

“What an absolutely fucking tragic story.”

“Boy meets girl,” I say, flipping the book open and letting it smack the table with a loud thwack.

“They swap a couple of lines, maybe a little eye-fucking across the room, and then bam—marriage, murder, and melodrama. Honestly, Romeo and Juliet is just horny teenagers making bad decisions with a death toll. Kinda iconic, but also… pathetic.”

Y/N’s trying so hard not to laugh, but that little twitch at the corner of her mouth gives her away.

She glances down at her notebook like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world, but I know better.

I always know better.

“Come on, admit it,” I press, leaning closer.

“This whole thing is just Shakespeare projecting his wet dreams onto paper. I mean, would you throw yourself into a coffin for someone you just met?”

Y/N looks up, her face a little red, and gives me this look—half-exasperated, half-amused. “It’s supposed to be romantic,” she says, her tone just a little too patient.

“Oh, sure,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Nothing screams romance like poison and stab wounds. That’s hot. Super sexy.” I lean back in my chair, grinning.

“Although, I guess dying for someone is one hell of a flex. Bet Juliet was into some kinky shit.”

“Jinx!” she hisses, her eyes wide as she glances around the library, like the ghost of Shakespeare himself might pop out of the shelves and strike me down.

“What?” I ask, throwing my hands up.

“You think Romeo was all sweet talk and poetry? Nah, that guy was definitely whispering filthy shit to her under the balcony. Bet he was like, Juliet, you light up my world—now get on your-”

Y/N lets out this strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and covers her face with her hands. “You’re impossible,” she mutters.

But I can see her shoulders shaking.

“Impossible, but not wrong,” I say, leaning forward with a smirk.

“You know I’m right. Horny teens and bad decisions—they go hand in hand. Speaking of…” I waggle my eyebrows at her.

“You ever had someone wax poetic about you? Or, I don’t know, climb a fire escape to declare their undying love?”

“No,” she says firmly, her voice muffled behind her hands.

“Shame,” I say, tapping my chin. “You’re missing out. Although, honestly? If someone pulled that shit with me, I’d probably just drag them inside and—”

“Jinx!” she whisper-yells, her voice high-pitched and scandalized.

Her face is so red now I’m almost worried she’s going to combust.

Almost.

I grin, sitting back in my chair and crossing my arms. “What? I’m just saying. Life’s short. Might as well enjoy it. Or are you more of a ‘tragic, yearning stares from a distance’ type?”

She gives me a look.

The kind of look that says I’m pushing my luck.

But I catch the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

It’s faint.

But it’s there, and it’s enough to keep me going.

“Can we please focus?” she says, her voice trembling with suppressed laughter.

“Sure,” I say, picking up the book again and thumbing through the pages. “But I’m warning you now, I’m not letting Romeo off the hook for being the patron saint of bad decisions.”

Y/N leans back in her chair, pressing her lips together like she’s trying desperately not to laugh.

Her cheeks are pink, and there’s this quiet glow to her that tugs at something in my chest.

I ignore it.

“So,” I say, flipping the book open again with an exaggerated flourish.

“Are we supposed to write some revolutionary take on this mess, or is it just vibes and clichés? You’re the genius here, enlighten me.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s that little curve to her lips, the one that makes her whole face soften. “Themes,”

“We’re supposed to analyze the themes, connect them to modern relationships, and explain why the story is still relevant.”

“Relevant?” I snort, leaning back. “Oh, sure. Because every teenager I know is out here marrying strangers after one dance and dying for them two days later. So relatable.”

“You’re impossible,” she says, shaking her head, but her voice is warm, light, teasing.

“Thank you,” I say, grinning.

She picks up her pen again, her focus shifting back to the notebook in front of her.

Naturally, I lean over, because how could I not snoop, but she slams it shut before I can even get a glimpse.

“Oh, come on,” I groan, clutching my chest like she’s mortally wounded me. “What’s the big secret? Writing a love letter? A sonnet? A tragic ode to unrequited love?”

“It’s not a secret,” she says firmly, though the way her fingers tighten around the notebook tells a different story. “It’s just not finished.”

“Uh-huh.” I narrow my eyes at her, my grin sharp and unrelenting.

“You’re not secretly crushing on Romeo, are you? Or maybe…”

My voice drops, dripping with mock drama. “Maybe you’ve got your own Romeo? Someone you’re tragically pining for?”

Her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of crimson, and her eyes dart everywhere except at me.

“Oh my God,” I say, sitting up like I’ve just cracked the biggest mystery of the century. “You do! Who is it? Come on, spill. I need to know everything.”

“There’s no one!” she protests, but her voice is high-pitched, and her fingers fidget with the corner of her notebook.

“Liar,” I say, my grin turning downright devious.

I tap my chin like I’m deep in thought.

“Is it someone in our class? That broody guy who always acts like he’s too cool to care? Or…” I pause, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe it’s a girl?”

Her pen freezes mid-air.

For a second, she looks at me like I’ve uncovered her deepest, darkest secret.

Bingo.

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Y/N

I can feel my heart picking up its pace, a strange fluttering in my chest that has nothing to do with the subject matter at hand. Jinx’s words echo in my mind, her teasing lingering far longer than I’d like to admit. The way she looked at me, the mischievous grin on her face—it’s enough to make me squirm, but I won’t let her see that.

“No one,” I reply firmly, hoping the edge in my voice sounds more convincing than it feels. “I’m not—there’s just no one.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms with a soft chuckle. “Alright, if you say so.”

I focus on my notebook, flipping a page with deliberate care. The task at hand should be enough to keep me grounded, and yet the thought of her knowing something I’ve never fully acknowledged myself unsettles me. It feels as though she’s pierced a part of me I’m still figuring out, and that makes me more uncomfortable than I’m willing to admit.

Still, I refuse to let that show. Instead, I straighten up, refocusing on our assignment. “Regardless, Romeo and Juliet is still a farcical tragedy,” I begin, keeping my tone calm and collected, but there’s a subtle bite to it. “The impulsiveness, the poor decisions—it’s a pattern in a lot of Shakespeare’s works. It speaks to the nature of youth, to desire, rather than rational thought.”

Jinx snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, sure, I’m sure that’s exactly what Shakespeare was going for. Desire, right? More like he was just a horny old man trying to sell sex on the page. No wonder those two idiots killed themselves over each other.”

I nod, careful to keep my composure. “Yes. Desire, more than love. They acted on passion rather than considering the consequences. Shakespeare’s portrayal of love is often hyperbolic, exaggerated to the point where it’s almost abs-"

I get cut off by another snicker from her followed by, "You damn nerd."

I pause mid-sentence, blinking at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she says, tilting her head, her grin widening. “You’re such a nerd, Y/N. Who even says ‘hyperbolic’ in casual conversation? It’s like you’re auditioning for a Shakespeare reboot.”

I huff, sitting up straighter. “It’s called having a vocabulary,” I reply, my tone clipped but teasing. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like I’ve struck her through with a dagger. “Wow. Coming at me with the intellectual smackdown, huh? Careful, or I’ll start quoting Shakespeare back at you.”

“Please don’t,” I say quickly, holding up a hand like I’m warding off some impending disaster.

Jinx grins, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “Oh, but wouldn’t you love that? Imagine me up on a balcony, all, But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” She pauses, fluttering her eyelashes for effect. “You’d swoon. Admit it.”

“I’d laugh,” I correct, refusing to give her the satisfaction. “And then I’d shut the window.”

She cackles, the sound sharp and chaotic, and it’s impossible not to smile. “Cold, Y/N. Ice cold. No wonder you don’t have a Romeo climbing fire escapes for you.”

I roll my eyes, flipping a page in the book to feign disinterest. “Not everyone needs a grand romantic gesture, Jinx. Some of us prefer substance over theatrics."

Jinx leans back in her chair, propping her boots up on the edge of the table like she owns the place. Her smirk is sharp, eyes glittering with mischief.

“C'mon, Y/N,” she drawls. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want someone to show up, grand gesture and all, declaring undying devotion? Maybe a little dramatic fainting thrown in for good measure?”

I snort. “No. Definitely not. I’d find it mortifying.”

She tilts her head, feigning innocence. “What about some spicy poetry? Like, Oh, Y/N, your... uh, unparalleled intelligence leaves me trembling.” Her voice dips into a breathy almost smutty tone, and I roll my eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” I mutter, flipping through my notes.

“And you’re boring,” she fires back without missing a beat. “Where’s the fun, huh? You don’t think Juliet was secretly hoping Romeo would skip the iambic pentameter and just pin her to a wall?”

I look up, feeling my cheeks heat. “Jinx.”

“What?” she says, her grin downright wicked now. “I’m just saying. The whole woe is me, tragic romance thing might’ve been for show. Behind closed doors, she was probably like, Enough about the stars, Romeo, let’s talk about your sword.”

And I falter, my laughter bubbling up uncontrollably before bursting out so loud that it shatters the quiet of the library. The sound is obnoxious, and I can’t stop it, even though I know I should. Mrs. Clark, the poor librarian, scurries over to us, her face draining of color when she realizes it’s me—me—who caused the disturbance. Her eyes widen in horror, and I shrink back in my seat, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Clark says sharply, her voice quivering with disapproval, “This is a library. I expect more from you.”

I swallow, my throat tight, and I can barely meet her gaze. The silence that follows is suffocating, broken only by the scratch of Mrs. Clark’s pen as she writes us both a detention slip. “After school,” she mutters, her voice tight. She hands us the slips, one by one, and I want to crawl under the table, but I can't. Not with everyone staring.

I take the slip, my hands trembling, my face burning with the weight of the embarrassment. Jinx’s laughter, the one that started all this, has quieted, but there's still a mischievous glint in her eyes. At first, it seems like she's enjoying my discomfort, and I can't help but wish she’d be quiet for just a moment, let me process this in peace.

But then, her smirk fades. She glances at me, her expression softening as she catches the way my shoulders slump, the way I'm trembling. I try to blink back the tears threatening to spill, but they’re already in my eyes. It’s stupid, it’s just a detention, but the humiliation is unbearable.

Jinx doesn’t say anything at first, but I can feel the weight of her gaze on me as I struggle to hold back the tears. She slides out of her chair, slowly stepping closer, crouching down beside me with a quiet seriousness I’ve rarely seen from her. Her voice, when it comes, is low, almost soothing.

“Hey,” she says, her words gentle, like she’s trying to reach through the storm inside me. “It’s not that bad, okay? Detention's just... it's nothing. It’s temporary.”

I don’t respond, but I can feel the tears starting to burn in my eyes, and I just can't stop them. I keep my gaze fixed on the floor, trying to hide how I’m trembling.

Jinx doesn’t back away, though. Instead, she reaches out, her hand soft as it rests on my shoulder, the touch surprisingly warm and comforting. “Come on toots, let’s go,” she says, her voice so different from the usual teasing tone, like she’s saying it for me, not for her. “I’ll take you somewhere... just let’s get out of here, okay?”

I nod, my throat tight, and let her guide me out of the library. The hallways feel colder now, like everything around me is a reminder of how utterly humiliated I feel. But Jinx stays close, walking beside me, her presence steady and unwavering, like she’s determined not to let me fall apart alone.

She leads me into the girls’ bathroom, the door shutting quietly behind us. It’s quiet, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead, and for a moment, everything feels still. Jinx leans against the counter, watching me with a softness in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. She doesn’t say anything at first, just lets me breathe, lets the silence settle between us.

I break.

The tears come without warning, and I retreat to the corner, curling into myself, trying to make myself smaller. I press my hands to my face, desperate to hide the rawness of what I’m feeling. The sobs are quiet at first, but they soon escape in harsh, ragged breaths. The shame, the embarrassment—it’s overwhelming, suffocating. I feel completely exposed, fragile, and utterly out of control.

I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want anyone to. But she doesn’t leave.

There’s a quiet moment, just the sound of my breathing, of me trying to stifle the sobs. And then Jinx moves toward me, her steps slow, careful. She crouches down next to me, not trying to force anything, not speaking. She just watches me for a moment, her eyes filled with something tender, and then her hand reaches out. Her fingers brush through my hair, slow and soothing, the soft strokes almost enough to make me forget everything else.

"Shhh," she murmurs, her voice quiet, barely above a whisper. "It’s okay."

I can’t stop the tears. I don’t even try. But the sound of her voice, the feel of her fingers weaving through my hair, so gentle, so careful—it’s grounding. She doesn’t rush me, doesn’t tell me to stop crying. She just stays there, her touch like a balm for the rawness inside me.

After a long moment, she shifts again, her hand moving to wipe away the tears that have soaked my cheeks. Her fingers are gentle, each movement deliberate, as if she’s treating me like something fragile but important. Her touch is steady, patient, and it’s like she’s saying, without words, that I don’t have to hide. That I’m allowed to feel, to break.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

"C'mon, toots—it’s only an hour, alright? No big deal." I glance at Y/N, tucked behind me like a little puppy, her hand in mine.

It’s like she’s trying to disappear into the floor, and I don’t... I don’t know what to do with that.

I peek into the detention room, Mr. Wheeler’s already there, half asleep

Of course he is.

His glasses are dangling off his nose, like he forgot they even exist.

He’s ancient—like, fossil-level ancient—but whatever.

Doesn’t matter.

I yank the door open.

And there he is. Boy savior himself, sitting in the corner, all quiet and broody.

I waggle my free hand at him. Big, dumb wave. Like, hi, notice me!

Ekko’s head pops up.

His face twists into full-on confusion. Like, what the actual hell?

His eyes dart to Y/N behind me, all tucked in and quiet, and I can practically hear the gears in his head grinding.

I can see it.

The way his gaze softens, just a little, but then hardens again.

Like he’s trying to figure out how to act, what to say, how to breathe, maybe.

And I get it. I do.

Because once, a long time ago, it was the three of us.

Ekko. Y/N. Me.

Best friends.

And now?

Now we’re... this. Whatever this is. Unspoken crap hanging in the air like a bad smell.

After what happened—Vander’s death, Vi’s wrongful juvie sentence, and Silco taking me in...

Shit hit the fan.

Everything snapped.

The three of us? We used to be inseparable.

Me, Boy Savior, and Y/N. We were the kind of trio that people envied—always laughing, always plotting, always looking out for each other.

But after everything fell apart?

That trio was gone. Just... gone.

Ekko and I? We managed to reconcile. Somehow. It wasn’t easy, but we put the pieces back together.

Mostly.

But Y/N and him?

Never.

Whatever they had? Whatever we all had? It just crumbled. And they never found their way back to each other.

The air feels heavy. Like it’s pressing down on us.

Y/N’s hand squeezes mine. Tight. Too tight. Like she thinks if she lets go, she’ll just... vanish.

I glance back at her. Pale. Shaking. Her eyes darting everywhere except him.

Ekko.

The Boy Savior.

He’s staring at her like she’s a ghost. Or maybe a grenade. His jaw’s tight, hands fidgeting like he doesn’t know where to put them.

Say something.

Do something.

But he just sits there. Quiet. Staring.

It’s unbearable.

“Gonna sprain something, Boy Savior,” I snap, too loud, too sharp. “All that thinking’s dangerous, y’know.”

His head snaps up. Eyes narrow. “Jinx.”

That tone. Even. Calm. Like he’s the adult in the room.

Which he's not cause fucking Mr Wheeler's old ass is at the desk asleep now.

“What?” I throw my free hand up, grinning like a lunatic. “Just saying. You look like you’re trying to solve the meaning of life or some shit.”

Still nothing.

He glances at Y/N again.

And she flinches.

I can’t. I can’t with this.

“Seriously? We’re doing this? Now?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean. “It’s detention. Not a goddamn soap opera.”

“Jinx, stop.”

Her voice.

Soft. Cracked. Barely there.

I freeze. Look at her. She’s hiding behind me, eyes on the floor, her face red like she’s about to cry again.

My chest tightens.

Ekko’s watching us, his expression... weird. Guilty? Concerned? I can’t tell.

“Whatever,” I mutter, pulling Y/N further into the room. “Let’s just sit.”

I drag her to the far corner, away from him. Away from everything.

We sit. She tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let go. Nope. Not happening.

“Uh-uh, toots,” I whisper. “You’re stuck with me.”

She doesn’t argue. Just wipes her face with her sleeve, all quiet and miserable.

Across the room, I can feel him watching.

Always watching.

And I hate it.

I hate all of this.

I hear a grunt and then...

"The hell is she in here for?"

Ekko’s voice slices through the tension like a blade.

Y/N stiffens beside me, her hand still in mine, like she’s trying to hide behind me.

“Y/N’s here because—” I start, but I don’t know how to finish that.

The fuck should I say?

“Because I laughed too loud,” Y/N mumbles, barely loud enough to hear.

Ekko blinks.

“You?” he says, voice full of disbelief.

“Apparently.” Y/N pulls her hand away from mine tucking them into her sleeves like she’s trying to hide.

I snort, rolling my eyes. “It’s ‘cause Mrs. Clark is a total cunt.”

Ekko’s eyes narrow.

His face hardens a little—like he’s getting pissed off, not at us, but at the absurdity of it. “She really gave you detention for that?” His voice drops, angry now. “For laughing? That’s... that’s fucking ridiculous.”

I nod, crossing my arms. “Told ya. Stupid.”

Y/N looks down, trying to disappear into the floor like she can avoid everything.

So, of course, I’m not having that.

I grab her hand. “C’mon, Y/N. Detention? Are you seriously gonna sit here like some sad sack when we could be out there making actual trouble?”

She gives me the side-eye, clearly hesitant. “I’m not sure—”

“Stop thinking, and just do,” I snap, tugging her toward the window. "I’m done with this place, and you should be too."

She hesitates again, her face a mix of nervousness and confusion. I roll my eyes. “Detention’s for losers, Y/N. And you’re not a loser. You’re a rebel just waiting to burst out.”

Ekko’s already halfway through the window, a grin plastered on his face like he’s got nothing better to do than burn this place to the ground. “C’mon, this is way better than sitting in that crap hole. You don’t want to miss it.”

I lean out the window, breathing in the night air like it’s the first breath of freedom I’ve had in ages. “You’re seriously gonna let this lame-ass detention keep you locked up? Or are you gonna live a little?”

She’s still stiff, unsure, but there’s a flicker in her eyes.

She’s fighting it.

I see it. She’s craving a reason to break the rules, but she’s scared.

I pull her closer, voice low but firm. “Look, it’s just one little jump, Y/N. What’s the worst that can happen? Get caught and get another detention? Big deal. You can always blame me. I’ve got it covered.”

Finally, after what feels like forever, she steps up.

Slowly at first, but then quicker.

She's in.

I laugh, watching her climb out. “That’s my girl,” I mutter, watching her face. There’s a spark in her now, and I can feel it.

She’s gonna love this.

We all slide out the window, landing in the cool night air.

Ekko shoots me a look, like we're all in on some big joke. “Now this is how you do it,” he says, grinning ear-to-ear.

Y/N looks at me, her face still a little stunned, but now she’s definitely feeling it. “I can’t believe we just did that,” she says, breathless.

“You bet your ass we did,” I say, with a grin that could cut glass.

“Best decision of your life. Welcome to the rebellion, toots.”

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: the friendship has begun to progress slightly, more where that came from ;)

please like and reblog!

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brailsthesmolgurl · 9 months ago

Text

PUPPY LOVE?

Preview: You had always been the apple to their eyes. How would they express their affection towards you in highschool?

Warnings: I had to make it slight-slight-slight angsty hehe, teeth-rotting fluff for comfort for my beloved readers <3 btw readers and the boys are highschool kids in this one-shot so no suggestive or anything!

P.S: This idea came to me in the middle of the night and I knew I had to burn the midnight fuel to squeeze all of my brain juice for this piece :> Enjoyyy!

RAFAYEL

You lifted your head up when you heard a chair dragged against the tiled flooring. It came to a halt and down sat the lilac haired fellow, right in front of you, his chin propped on the back of his hand as he leaned down to look at you, a smirk hung on his thin lips. Rafayel. "Someone looked like they had a nightmare yesterday."

"It's none of your business." You furrowed your eyebrows, gaze turned towards the classroom door. More classmates are starting to walk in, greeting each other good mornings and immediately getting into their daily routines of catching up or gossiping. You, on the other hand, do not really belong to any 'gangs'. You find solace within your own bubble and occasionally, do hang out with your only friend, Tara.

The purple haired individual in front of you frowned, your answer unappealing to his taste. This young man sitting in front of you is the lucky charm of your school, and almost everyone dotes on him, headmaster, teachers and students alike. Both of his parents are renowned artists, comparable to Van Gogh and many other artists throughout history books and as expected, Rafayel inherited the same talent as his parents. Rich, handsome, charming and talented, he is basically a girl magnet.

"You do not have to be so rude you know." He stood up when he heard his name being called. Reaching into the pockets of his blazer, he took out two cheese sticks and placed it onto your table. "Here, have this. Your frown makes you look like a shriveled up prune. Some cheese sticks would probably do well for you." He chuckled teasingly and stepped out of your personal bubble, heading out of the classroom.

If glares could kill, you would probably be laying on the floor motionless by now. The cheese sticks that sat at your table were attracting unwanted attention from the girls in your class. You had absolutely no idea why Rafayel would always approach you. The attention you are receiving from him does not beat the attention other girls are getting as well, not that you cared but you just find it odd. A lone girl getting so much attention from the school's celebrity, what would the others think of it? Maybe he is just trying to be friendly. That always remains the reason to your question.

Here comes the other question. You do not think you like him, but why does your heart flutter whenever he is near you? Bidding you good morning and goodbye had became a part of a routine for the both of you. Why would your heartstrings tug whenever you find another girl initiating skinship with him? Why?

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Rinnnggggg. The bell rung, indicating the end of another school day. Students rushed out like ants out of the school premises, flooding the empty hallways. You packed your things, eyeing the time displayed by the clock. 3pm. It is the perfect time for you to go to the art room to practice some drawing. You may not be an artist like the talented Rafayel, but you still do have your own fascination towards drawing and sketching.

You walked in the direction opposite of the flow, passing through the crowd like a fish trying to swim upstream. As you were nearing the art room, someone knocked you over and you fell backwards, with your bagpack being your cushion as you landed back first onto the floor. You still winced upon impact. "Oh look, it's Rafy's pet." The girl that knocked you over crossed her arms, her blond curls tied up in a high ponytail. Oh, it's the school's flower girl, Jarianne, but you guessed it. She is nowhere carrying the aura of a flower.

Sighing, you pushed yourself off of your back, not even having the thought to fight back. "Know your place would you?" Jarianne spoke, studying her oval shaped painted nails. "Rafy might give you cheese sticks every once in a while, but that does not mean anything. Don't get your hopes up, okay sweetie?" Huffing a smile, the mean girl strutted off, leaving you calculating your next steps.

Shrouded with anger, you got up and made your way towards the art room. You are ready to splash some paint onto the canvas, wanting to express your anger in a much more 'healthier' form. She was right. Who are you to be engaged with Rafayel. Someone who is a loner like you should not be in any way associated with someone of such a high status like him. You are halfway at being disappointed at yourself until you slide the door opened and you saw Rafayel in the art room.

He looked ethereal, basked in the warm light of the sun in the midst of a cloudy afternoon, his lilac hair slightly tousled on his head. His back was facing you, but you could tell with the way his paintbrush moved across the canvas with grand gestures, he is painting yet another masterpiece. Part of his uniform, the dark blue blazer and white collared shirt was messily tossed onto one of the desks nearby, and he is left in his black t-shirt. Right when you are about to leave, his head snapped around and he caught sight of you standing in the doorway with beady eyes. "Finally, you're here." Framing himself to be waiting for you this whole time. Well, he was.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you." You consciously tucked a stray strand of your brunette curls behind your ear, your face immediately turning red when you realised that you may have taken a bit longer then usual to be staring at the young man. "I'm gonna go." You turned and immediately started jogging down the hallway.

"Wait! Wait!" Rafayel called out for you, yet, you did not bother to turn back. All you could hear was the sounds of chairs creaking and a loud thud, followed by hurried footsteps.

You turned a corner and slid yourself into an empty classroom to catch your breath. When you sat yourself down, the door slid right open and Rafayel presented himself, huffing and panting as he bent himself down to slow his breaths. You were shocked of course, that he would run down the halls for you. Jarianne's words rang through your head like an alarm and it filled you with more regrets.

"You should stop talking to me." You clenched your fist, standing up, getting ready to leave. "We are not friends to begin with, so we should keep it that way." When you walked past him, he gripped your wrist and you gasped in response. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Do you actually..." He took in a huge breath and straightened his posture, now eyes meeting yours. "Are you actually so naive?"

"Look, I don't know what you are trying to do Rafayel, but I am not interested in whatever you are going to say. Just leave me alone." You pulled your wrist out of his grip but it only prompted him to hold your wrist tighter. "Leave me be!"

You slipped, and he grabbed you by your waist, underestimating the strength of his before he stumbled backwards and you ended up pressing him against the wall. The both of you had the same expression, widened eyes and flushed cheeks. Tension immediately started pumping into the air, causing your body to tense up. "Are you upset?" He broke the silence between you two, leaning down closer to you to inspect your face. "I had never seen you getting so mad before."

MAYBE. JUST MAYBE. A part of you do like him, you liked that he would only greet you in the morning and when you leave home, you liked that he would offer to teach you art anytime you wish, you liked that sometimes he would ditch his friends just to come and sit with you during recess. But, Jarianne was right. You always have this part of you that refused to accept the fact that you do indeed, like Rafayel. Just like all of the other girls out there. It's just that you are nothing special at all. You will be regarded as any other fan girl of his.

Hesitation laced in your voice. "I just don't think someone like you should be spending time with someone like me Rafayel." Your gaze dropped, feet shuffled against the floor beneath, watching the dust particles flying up into the air.

He clicked his tongue, but remained still. "You have not answered my question. Why do you think I go out of my way to talk to you everyday hmm?" Your silence was met with the continuation of his thoughts. "That's because I like you, y/n."

Your breath hitched in your throat when he confessed to you and you nervously took a step back to put more space in between the both of you. "Don't." His arms snaked around your waist and he reeled you in, nose tips almost touching. It took you a while to only realise that Rafayel is red like a tomato, the confession of his happen to be genuine afterall. His blushing expression is a sight to behold. Just like in a watercolour painting, all of the colours are harmonised, his purplish, tousled soft curls that sat on top of his head framed the outline of his carved facial shape well, with scarlet red lightly dabbed across his pale cheeks, giving the illusion of his eyes sticking out like magenta gemstones on a iridescent rubicund-white marble complexion. "I really do like you y/n."

"Why?" That is the only question you can mutter out of your mouth. You sounded dumb for a second but you would like to find out what he deemed special about you.

You can sense his nervousness when his eyes started darting everywhere and his arms withdrew from your waist. "I...You're...Uhm..." He is clearly struggling with his words. "You are different. You do not find the need to please me or to catch my attention." His words were spoken slowly and precisely, calculated even. "I like you because of the way you are, y/n. You are not like the other girls. Sometimes, when I look at you, I wanted to sketch a drawing of you, but I couldn't, because that's how alluring you are to me. No drawings could achieve that."

The way he phrased his affection towards you, was nothing of confidence but only of his vulnerability. Five years throughout his secondary days, you always regarded him to be the embodiment of confidence, carrying himself well has always been a gestalt of his. But today, you do not find that in him, all you see is this young man stumbling over every single word, self-doubt equivalent to yours hinted in his tone. He does not see himself to be worthy of you, just like you do not think you are worthy to him. The thought of it ached your heart.

"Rafayel. I...I never knew you liked me." Reaching your hands up, you patted his shoulders awkwardly, not really knowing where to position your hands. "I thought you just wanted to tease me and push me around like a plaything."

"The audacity to say that." He scoffed, face scrunched up like a shriveled prune he had mentioned to you earlier. "I don't like keeping the people I like as pets or any derogatory words you may think of, you know?" The sight of you holding onto his shoulders, eyes widened made him smile, one of his hand lightly patting the top of your head. Rafayel notices the way your lips would wobble the slightest when you tried to alleviate your own anxiety, convincing him further that you do possess the same feelings as him. He only has to figure out how to make you believe that he is not messing with your feelings and how to not escalate this sweet moment into a dramatic and awkward mess. "I don't want you to be accusing me of something so lowly anymore, yeah? Promise me?"

"But... what would people say when they see..." You gestured between the two of you, head already coming up with all sorts of accusations that would be thrown towards the both of you. "Us together? I don't want to trouble you..."

"They can say anything, but we can treat it as nothing y/n." He ran his hand down to your cheek, cupping your small face in his palm now, your face slowly warming up in his palm. "In the end, I chose you. It is only right for them to be jealous." He smiled leisurely, confidence resurfacing again. "So, would you date me y/n?"

Gnawing onto your lip, you nodded your head and looked down. You had only seen this in romance shows, where lip kisses are supposed to happen after confessions do. But you felt his soft lips collided against your forehead and your heart released sparks of fire uncontrollably. You are screaming internally as if you had won the lottery. As he pulled back, you raised your head up to glance at his facial features. Rafayel is beaming, hand still placed on the side of your cheek. As if it was cued, he managed to answer your question before you could even ask. "I will not kiss your lips until you allow me to, yeah? I will always wait until you're ready, as I respect---"

Wrong question, but does not beat the fact it was relevant to what you were initially going to ask him. Something along the lines of ‘whether are we going in for the kiss’. You decided to act upon your decision. Closing the short distance between you two, you planted your lips onto his, swallowing his uncertainty to fuel your bravery for the upcoming challenges you will have to face for being Rafayel's girl.

ZAYNE

"So, for this experiment, find someone you can pair up with to write a report based on your findings." Miss Akko instructed, placing the chalk onto her large wooden desk and scanning the crowd for any blank slates. "If you have any questions, you can always come and find me for consultations."

You looked towards the guy sitting next to you, Zayne. Ballpoint pen held in between his long fingers, gliding swiftly against the paper to create a neat yet slanted handwriting. Altough the class had ended, you could tell that he is still very much in his zone, jotting down whatever the teacher had mentioned earlier. If he could record it, you believe that would be the most viable way for him to stay on top of his grades all of the time. His posture relaxed when the last bell of the day rung. "Hey." You called out to him and he turned his head to face you. "Would you like to pair up? For the experiment?"

You had paired up with him for a few times for chemistry class. Being with the smartest kid does earn you a few perks, but he is not much of a talker so sometimes doing assignments with him would result in a crow-cawing awkwardness. "Sure." He nodded his head once and started gathering his reading materials into a pile while standing up.

Zayne has always been a man of a few words. Nodding is his most useful reaction whenever you ask him of something that he is borderline interested in. But if he does not agree with you, then he shall give you the stare that would make you question yourself about the absence of an answer from him. "When do you plan to do---"

"I will see you after class tomorrow." He cut you off, zipping his bag up and pulling it over his broad shoulders effortlessly. "Remember to bring your brain." OOF, COLD. It most likely explains why nobody would usually pair up with Zayne. More like he just refuses to.

Zayne was best known for his good looks and big brain but other than that, he does not have an appealing personality that makes him desirable among girls. Good to admire from afar but not good to interact with. Ever heard of the trend 'He is a 10 but...' . Yeah, that is Zayne's title trend. Only to people who has been in close contact with him. Yeah, he could be a dick with how straightforward he is but you find it as an admirable trait of his. He stabs people with his words, with truths that nobody would dare to say and maybe, you do secretly like him for the way he is.

“Come on Zayne, it’s not like I don’t study or help out with the reports for the past few times.” You rebutted, palms faced upwards and eyebrows knitted closely together. Zayne stood in his spot, expressionless face hiding his amusement. “So I do have a brain!”

He turned towards the direction of the door and started making his way out, not without giving his last statement. “Says the one who can’t even score a decent C grade.” There you stood, in the empty classroom, choked onto the curse words that you were about to throw at him when you heard his statement but you are sure with his lanky legs, he would have been out of earshot by now.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

TAP TAP TAP TAP… Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, reverberating through the empty classrooms. You were late for the meeting with Zayne because you had forgotten to bring your lunch to school today so you ended up having to run down to the vending machine to grab some quick bites. The machine however, betrayed your trust, the ultimate cliche move anyone can think of putting into a filler clip for a movie, when the snack gets stuck during the retrieving period purely because of the vending machine error. You could have easily gotten in trouble if anyone were to spot you with your whole arm shoved into the machine just to grab the item you had literally paid for.

The door slammed open with force and you were greeted with the sight of Zayne in the classroom. With a girl bent halfway down right next to him. You recognised her immediately, the long blond hair with forest green eyes, milky pale skin with a smile that could make anyone faint upon seeing it. She is the school’s student president, Nyla. The both of them perked their heads up, reacting to the sound of the door being slammed opened only to see you standing in the doorway, face flushed from the heat, holding onto your snacks in your hand. “Hey y/n.” The student president grinned, her pearly whites nearly blinded you. “Do you mind giving us some time? We have some personal matters to settle.” Not only does she look pretty, she has a pleasing attitude too? Just great. Pursing your lips, you nodded and went out the same way you came in, sliding the door closed behind you in a more polite manner this time.

“I still can’t believe that you are working on an assignment with her.” Nyla huffed, pushing her hair back with her fingers as she bent down next to Zayne again, staring at his notebook. Nyla had initially wanted to meet up with Zayne regarding the discussion for the upcoming school festival that will be held but eventually, she turned it into her personal chat session with Zayne. “Is she a freeloader most of the time?”

“No.” Zayne replied. “She does her part as I do for mine.” Zayne, at this point had already caught note on what Nyla is trying to do. Provoking a conversation out of him when he is late for the initial assignment arrangement with you bothers him. “I think you had already gotten all of the answers you needed for the school festival.”

“But, I would like to get to know you too.” Nyla sat herself onto the side of his desk, manicured fingers fanned herself in an attempt to cool herself down. “Say, how about we try to go out for a little bit hmm?”

The raven haired young man did not even spared her a glance, eyes focused on his handwritings. “Zayne, come on. Smarty pants with a cute face like you dating me would be the talk of the school for weeks to come.” The pitch of her voice heightens at the end of her sentence and Zayne sighed in frustration. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and exhaled.

“I am not interested in being your pawn.” He glanced at her and her smile faltered, alongside her confidence. “Nor do I find the necessity to feed into the delusions of yours.” The indifference shown on his body language gave her the conclusion she did not expected from him. Her pretentious ‘girl-next-door’ attitude no longer on display. The anger of a spoiled child who gets whatever they want seeped through and she raised her palm, ready to land it onto his cheek but he caught it right before it touches his cheek. “I wouldn’t do it to someone who believes in gender equality.”

Nyla withdrew her hand, strings of curse words falling out of her lips as to save herself from embarrassment and she left the classroom. The young man sat in the room, staring at the new page he had just flipped over on his notebook and he noticed the drawing of a stick man next to the page number. The stick man appeared to be holding onto the number 6 like a hockey stick and the 0 being reimagined as a puck. His lips pulled into a small smile, flashing back to the time when you tried to be sneaky when he was out of the classroom during one of your past assignment pairings, conducting this tomfoolery on his notebook and quickly returning everything back to its original position. But he saw it all, from the crack of the door when he was about to enter the empty classroom. He finds your childlike behaviour amusing after all.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“We are done talking.” You stared up, the blinding sunlight immediately getting shielded by Zayne’s opaque outline. You squinted your eyes narrower only to find that Zayne has his hand stretched out to you, given you are in a seated position. “We should get started on our assignment.” You took his hand and he pulled you up, the sheer size of his palm wrapped around your whole hand easily.

“Here.” You reached your hand into the pocket of your uniform and pulled out a small box of chocolate cookies. “This is for you. It fell out when I was trying to grapple for my sandwich.”

Zayne took the box into his hands, contemplating on the way you got it. “Did the vending machine got stuck again?” Your nod made him smiled a little. “If it gets stuck again next time, you can just ask me to get it for you.”

His sudden suggestion nearly made you choked on the last bite of your egg and cheese sandwich. It is hard to believe he would come out all of the way here to find you, let alone making small talk and telling you that you can ask him to solve your troubles whenever you please? But your dumb brain only believe that he was only trying to be helpful and he is merely thanking you for bringing him a snack. “So what did you guys talk about?” You could not help but to ask as the both of you slowed down your steps to be in sync with one another.

“She wanted me to go out on a date with her.” You were lucky you had finished your sandwich, or else this sentence would have sent you into full on choking mode. You did expect Nyla to ask him out to a certain extent given his popularity, but you were caught off guard that he was even willing to share the details about what had went on behind those closed doors earlier. “I told her that there is not a need to waste her time.”

Hm? You stopped in your footsteps and turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” Your lips had blurted out the sentence before your mind is in control and you swallowed the instant regret of the question. Zayne too, stopped in his footsteps and he looked at you, his hazel green orbs stood out more like a lush forest under the blazing sun above your head. When he took a step towards you, your heart lurched, eyes scanning the surroundings for anyone present.

“I already have someone on my mind.” Zayne closed the distance between the both of you. Within arms length, Zayne reached his right hand outwards and held your cheek. An immediate gasp could be heard, the pace of your heartbeat quickened, so as your breath. You could hear your own heartbeat in your head. It does not take a genius for one to unravel who he likes. You stood in front of him, drinking in his gaze that had softened for one of the very few times, and this time he did not snap his head away immediately. His thumb moved back and forth on your cheek, soothing the spreading redness that is a result of your realisation regarding his point.

Your eyes lit up and your jaw slacked, eyes frantically searching for a joke within his eyes but when you found no ill intention, you amounted to satisfy your curiosity. “Why…why me?”

His thumb slid down to your jawline, and stopped at your chin. Raising it up just enough for his eyes to be looking into yours and you gulped nervously when he closed the distance between the both of you. He smiled, lips tugged up slightly on both corners because all these while, he knew that the both of you have the same feelings for one another, but he just never really have the opportunity to be alone with you, till now. "You will find out soon enough." Leaning down, Zayne pressed his lips softly against yours to present his confession to you, stealing your first kiss away.

XAVIER

The countdown in your head never fails you. When the minute hand hits 12 on the clock, the bell rung, the teacher looked up from the book he was holding, glasses slid down his nose slightly as he realised his class period had came to an end. "Remember your homework kids. I will see you next week." He announced as the students all got up in sync, bowing and thanking the teacher for his teaching efforts.

As you landed your bum back onto your chair, you heard someone calling your name and your head turned towards the source of the sound. The blond bloke named Xavier sauntered over to you, his eyelids still half closed. "Hey, you going over for the fencing extracurricular later?"

"Yeah I am. Why?" You asked him nonchalantly, all while clearing your items off of the table and placing them into your bagpack. When you do not hear his response, your hands rested on your bag and you looked up at him, squinting your eyes. "Wait. You plan to skip it don't you?"

Xavier's eyes widened and his light eyebrows arched upwards. "What, no. I just..." His right hand reached up to rub the nape of his neck. "I just thought we could walk there together if you'd like."

Sighing in relief you smiled and nodded, pulling your bagpack over your back. You had forgotten to arrange the books you have to bring today hence the load of your bag became a deadweight and it nearly sent you rolling onto the ground. Xavier caught you on time before your face gets planted onto the tiled ground. "Careful. Here, let me help."

"Thanks." The blond young man easily took your bagpack off of your back, slinging it over the side of his shoulder that has his messenger bag hung onto. With the weight of fingerpads pressed against your arm, you flushed red when you realised that he had not released his hold on you. Catching your sight, he trailed it down to your arm and he released his grip, equally embarassed at how long the skinship lasted.

Truth is, you and Xavier are somewhat at the level of best friends. The both of you share the same classes and same taste for food, alongside same extra curricular activities. But recently, you started feeling more and more abashed around him. You would consciously want to look good in front of him; either it be tucking your hair behind your ears, chuckling gently instead of laughing like a troll, ironing your clothes to make it look pressed and neat. You are like becoming a whole different person just for him. But it is not necessarily for the bad.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Clank, Clink, Clank Clank. The sounds of the blades grinding against one another created screeches and clinking, which are not the right music for the ears. You sat a couple of meters away from the mat, eyeing Xavier clad in the metallic polyester jacket that is overlain with a thin, interwoven steel strands in between to provide him protection. Lamés is the right term for the protective gear on his torso. Gasps and mutters could be heard echoing in the huge hall, judgements and commentaries thrown around as the showdown between Xavier and his opponent has been relatively entertaining.

The whole nine minutes, both of the fencers has been extremely aggressive, parrying and lunging against one another whenever an opening is spotted. The race to land 15 touches on the opponent make it an extremely fast and deft sport. The both of them had equated to 14 touches each and this last touch would determine the winner. The referee stood in middle, arms raised midway to insinuate the start of the tie-breaker round. "Pret? Allez!"

The blades then ensued, waving in the air. "Halt." It was called out in two seconds and both of the opponents backed up, standing still in their spots. Your heartbeat thumped, the last you saw was the both of their blades touched both of their respective opponent's foil. It is hard to determine who is the winner. The referee was seen walking over to Xavier and he spoke. "Parrying then riposte, point-in-line is perfect and that forward extension of yours is worth the risk." He grabbed Xavier's arm and raised it, everyone in the hall cheered as Xavier removed his headgear and grinned, eyes landing onto you.

You smiled back, proud that he had manage to win the competition. You stood up when he walked off of the platform, wanting to congratulate him but Chiara beat you to it. "Xavier! You did so well!" The girl bounced over, her curls bounced to her footsteps' rhythm as well. "Oh my god, that was such a fight."

"Thanks." Xavier smiled and she grabbed him by his neck, throwing herself into his arms and you were stunned at her boldness. Xavier however, did not seem fazed as his arms raised up to pat her back. Chiara may just be an amiable individual but your mind abnegated that possibility and only opened its chamber doors to jealousy.

In a disconsolate, nervous manner, you turned and proceeded to walk out of the hall. Your heart thumped hard against your chest like booming speakers in an EDM concert. It also caused a lump to form in your throat. It hurts. Something about her just greeting and hugging him so casually made her wonder why did he never told you about his girlfriend before? He is already mysterious enough but at this point, it felt like a betrayal to you. But then again, he does not owe you that favour to tell you about his dating life if he does not wish to say anything.

Finding a cosy corner next to the herb garden that belonged to the Plant Society, you sat down at the side of the curb and amused yourself with the view of butterflies twirling around blooming flower petals. Amongst the weeds, Magnolia blossoms are most of the denizens found within the small patch of ground. Time passed by, perhaps around a couple of minutes and you heard hurried footsteps in the background but you were too engrossed with the butterfly landing onto a magnolia's carpels that you did not bother to turn around.

"Y/n." Xavier called out. "I had been searching everywhere for you." You turned your head slowly, stopping with only half of your face visible to him. "Did you noticed me winning just now?" "Yeah I did." You pushed yourself off of the curb, dusting the dirt off of your dark skirt and you faced him, gaze catching his chest rather than his cerulean orbs. "In fact, I saw Chiara went up to hug you." Your pout although not shown, it was obvious to Xavier. You are jealous.

He stepped forward and wrapped his lanky arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You were bewildered. In his arms, feeling his warmth spreading to your body and his scent swathed you, he smells like clean sheets and a bubble bath. Perhaps from his change of clothes. "I'm sorry." He spoke, breath batting against the nape of your neck. "I should have rejected her hug right then and there."

"It's okay Xavier, I didn't know you have a girlfriend." You were quick to address your hesitation, ready to take a step back from him but his hold around you tightened, not allowing you to leave his arms.

"She isn't. She isn't my girlfriend, y/n." He slowly pulled back, arms now moved to rest on your shoulder. For a moment, a gleam of wary was ready to surface but Xavier was quick to put out that emotion of his. "I don't think of her anything more than a friend. Unlike you."

Confusion clouded you like a misty apparition above your head. "What about me?" Your index finger pointed towards yourself. "What do you mean by 'unlike me'."

"I like you." His gaze unwavering, genuine intentions full on display. "I had liked you for a very long time y/n." Your jaw dropped to the ground almost instantly. You were not expecting this to happen at all but look at how fate has presented itself. Xavier smiled, his angelic smile akin to his divine features. He would have been mistaken to be an angel if you did not know that the halo around his head is the sun peeking out from the back of his head. “And I think I would very much like you to be my girlfriend instead of her.”

Your eyelids blinked rapidly, eyelashes just a few more blinks away to cool down the redness in your cheeks. As a reflex, your hands flew up to your mouth to mask your excitement, your lips probably pulled into a grin that stretches to both ears. “I…I…” Your stammering further betrayed your feelings and Xavier leaned down, supple hands held onto your wrist and he pulled your hands down, finally being able to see your shyful expression.

“Seeing you like this makes me very happy y/n.” He cupped your cheeks softly, tediously brushing the pads of his thumb across your cheek and he leaned in, planting a kiss onto your lips to officially make you his girlfriend.

Hope this fluff makes your day my lovelies! <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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lady-of-moths · 3 months ago

Text

Electric Blue (Sanji x Reader)

Word count: 8,200

Tags: NSFW, 3rd POV, past tense

Established relationship, romantic sex, lingerie, oral (f & m receiving).

Summary: Sanji’s lady decides to spoil him, but Sanji is a giver himself.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

It was no secret that Sanji loved the finer things in life - whether they be fine women, fine cuisine, or fine couture. So what finer way than for the woman of his dreams to spoil him than to bring those things together?

First was a five course menu served with all his friends.

Then, a couple glasses of the finest red they had in stock, sipped at a small table on deck, with just the two of them under the bright moonlight and the myriad of stars that freckled the night sky.

When the chilly breeze overpowered the warmth of the wine, it was time to head in. Sanji, ever the gentleman, slipped his suit jacket off and gently draped it over her shoulders, before leading her to the door. How she adored him. He’d open the doors along the way for her, and hold her hand as she walked down the stairs. Every time he looked her way she could see the love in his eyes. There was a certain glimmer in his eyes that often made his expression border on awe. That night was no different, as Sanji watched her every move, and hung on every word that left her beautiful painted lips with such ardent love and fascination that one might have wondered whether she might just be his All Blue.

And there they were - at their bedroom door. Sanji’s hand reached for the doorknob and let the door fall open before her. Those beautiful red lips smiled at him as she entered the room, with him in tow.

Her hands still clung to the jacket on her shoulders. It was so warm, and smelt like him - a mix of cologne, and cigarette smoke. His scent always made her feel so comfortable and safe - she practically radiated joy whenever he was around.

Closing the door behind them, he turned towards her. “May I take your coat, ma’am?” he asked with a soft smile.

His love turned her back towards him, and tucked her flowing hair out of the way. Sanji gently lifted the jacket off her shoulders and neatly placed it on a hanger that hung off a hook on the wall.

Meanwhile, she went to sit down at their desk. She carefully undid her earrings, placing them in a small jewelery box he had gifted her on their 10th date. She read the inscription above the little mirror in the box - ‘No jewel can shine as bright as you’. The words never failed to bring a tender smile to her lips. Sanji was far more precious than any jewel under the sun.

Having finished hanging the coat, Sanji turned to find her hands were just reaching for the clasp of her necklace. In an instant, he traversed the small space between them. Standing just behind her, his large, warm hands gently grabbed hold of hers.

“Allow me, m’lady” he said, his tone warm and loving.

His nimble fingers made quick work of the dainty clasp, and he carefully removed the thin and fragile necklace from her neck.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she turned around to face him.

“It’s only natural,” he said as he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

His lips were warm and soft against her cold skin. His eyes lifted to meet hers, concern written over his face.

“My love, you are freezing. Let’s get you in bed before you catch a cold.”

“Yeah, let’s,” she murmured softly, a subtle smile on her face.

Sanji gently tugged her up by the hand, and she slowly rose to her feet. Upright, she took a step forward, pushing her chest against her partner. The angle gave Sanji a great view into her decollete, now pressed flush against him.

Her head tilted, as she looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and a small, sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her index finger rubbed against the stubble on his chin as she spoke.

“I think I might need some help,” she said, trailing off. Her hands found his, and gently placed them on her sides, before pushing them as far up along her back as she could, towards her dress’ zipper.

Sanji’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed the look in her eyes as she moved his hands over her body. He wasn’t quite sure what he’s ever done to deserve a woman like her, but he certainly felt blessed.

He couldn’t help but trail his hands up and down over her form a couple of times. There was a choked gasp when he realised how unusual and intricate the sensation beneath her dress was. Had she been wearing it this whole time? The thought made him swallow dryly.

A sly smirk tugged at her lips as she saw the realisation dawn on his face. She tucked her hair out the way once more, making sure there’s none left near the zipper.

“Could you help me… out of this dress?” Her voice feigns innocence, but the look on her face betrays her intention.

She could feel Sanji’s hands travel up to undo her zipper. He was slow, and gentle, as usual. He took his time, savouring the sight of the soft material falling apart to reveal the beauty beneath. She can feel his breath growing ragged as it hits her skin.

The zipper was down, her dress now held up merely by the pressure between them, and their eyes met once more.

She took a small step back, allowing gravity to do its work. The fabric hit the ground with a light thump, revealing her final surprise of the night, and leaving Sanji’s jaw hanging.

Sanji’s eyes travelled down her body. Her heavenly bosom plumped up in a lace push up bra of bright, electric blue. Between her breasts, shone a small, pale blue jewel. Underneath, the bra was linked by short, thin straps to a somewhat broad, elastic band that hugged her ribs.

The garterbelt too had such a band at the top - plain and simple - before it gave way to intricate patterns of soft lace and silky bows, as they hugged his woman’s hips.

Matching blue lace panties peaked from underneath the lace and ribbons.

Thin straps trailed from the high waist band of her garter, down the lace, and finally down her legs, where they clasped around the tops of her hold ups.

Her supple legs, too, bore the same broad, blue bands around her thighs. Flowing from the bands, the top of her stockings was detailed with small, but intricate floral design, similar to those on her other garments. The lace offered a small glimpse at her skin in between the fragile lacy petals, before the stocking turned skin-coloured and smooth, and disappeared into her high heels.

She smiled slyly as she watched Sanji take in the various intricacies of her latest purchase. A drop of blood peeked from Sanji’s nose - a job done well, it seemed.

Sanji admired her in breathless awe - the woman he loved and who loved him back, her soft touch, her honeyed voice as she calls his name, her perfectly beautiful curves, framed so tantalisingly by the killer set she went through the trouble of putting on just for him. Sanji tried to string words together to express his admiration, but it was futile. And unnecessary… For she could read on his awestruck face just how much he liked what he was seeing, and she could tell by the glint in his eyes, and the way he wet his lips just what kind of thoughts were running through his mind that moment.

“Sanji,” she repeated softly; this time breaking him out of his trance.

Sanji shook his head gently trying to regain his composure. “You look ravishing, my love,” he breathed against her knuckles as he kissed them softly.

She smiled at his words. His lips on her knuckles sent a small shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t help but remember what those soft, skillful lips of his felt like on other parts of her body.

“You can touch me… not just look, my love,” she says softly, as her hands caress his hand, running idly through his silky blonde locks.

Sanji never meant to seem crass, nor did he ever want to rush her, and so he always tried his best to restrain himself. But when her voice sang such an invitation in his ear, who was he to turn it down?

Sanji took her hands in his, and gently tugged them to the side. His soft lips pressed against her shoulder, and worked their way up her neck with a trail of hot kisses. He pecked her earlobe, before gently taking it between his teeth and sucking on it.

She sighed softly at the feeling, loving the way Sanji always found a way to be both gentle with her, yet still a little rough.

“Do you have any idea what your beauty does to a man, my love?” he purred in her ear.

She merely gave a low chuckle, as she tilted her head back further, allowing him better access to her throat.

Sanji’s lips trailed down her neck once more, and settled on her collarbone. His lips kissed her soft skin. His teeth nipped here and there. He sucked on her neck, just the way he knew she liked it. Then his tongue would lick the marks to ease the sting.

She tugged at his grip on her wrists - wanting to touch him, to feel him under her fingertips, to pull his head up to her lips - and Sanji relented; instead, wrapping his arms around her waist.

His lips trailed lower, down her chest. They found her breasts - so plump and full - so teasingly displayed in that little bra. He nestled his face between them, feeling their softness against his cheeks. Her fingers daintily brushed through his hair, and caressed his head.

His hands traced the outlines of her lingerie along her back - every band, every strap, every ribbon, every frill. He drew in a deep breath. He swore her scent could get him high.

“Do you have any idea what your love does to me, ma cherie?” he asked, his voice now a little deeper.

Her hand tugged gently on his locks. She wanted him to meet her gaze.

“Why don’t you show me?” she asked him with a smile.

It took but a moment for Sanji to dive in and capture her lips. His hand cupped her face gently, while her hands found their way to his strong shoulders and his chest. His tongue slipped quickly into her mouth, and he could feel her smile into the kiss, as he began to lose himself in her scent and the taste of her lipstick. Their tongues danced together, growing ever hungrier for each other’s taste. His hands roamed freely over her body - caressing her waist, her hips, her ass - rubbing over skin and fabrics alike.

Snap! His fingers hooked into the strap of her bra and snapped it lightly. When he felt her moan into his mouth, he knew what she was in the mood for that night. Snap! He snapped the waistband of her garter. Snap! There went the straps holding her stocking.

Every pleased little moan earned her a harder snap. And every harder snap, earned him a deeper moan from her pretty throat.

Hearing her needy sounds for him only fueled his need for her. His lips left hers - now smeared with red - and dove between her breasts, placing desperate kisses all over her exposed skin.

One of her hands found her way on his back, and grasped at his shoulder. The other, meanwhile, tangled in his soft locks once more.

His large, skilled hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them, before pushing them closer together as if wishing to suffocate in her softness, her warmth, her essence. His thumbs brushed over her clothed nipples. Though he could not feel them through the padding, the way she sighed and sucked her lip told him where to be.

Sanji’s hands slipped the straps off her smooth shoulders. His hot lips placed kisses all over her chest. His hands reached up and around her, where his nimble fingers made short work of the hooks on her straps. In a matter of seconds, the bra was tossed to the floor. Released from their constraints, her breasts now captured Sanji’s every attention. His mouth was quick to latch on to her hardened right bud - licking, kissing, and nipping as he went. His other hand, meanwhile, continued to squeeze her left breast, until it was time to switch sides. His eager mouth wasted no time in giving her left breast the same treatment he had just given to her right.

With one hand squeezing her chest, his other hand now made its way down, trailing over the intricacies of her outfit, and giving her plump ass a good squeeze. Her skin was starting to grow warmer under his ministrations. Her breath picked up, punctuated by the occasional sigh and moan.

Sanji’s tongue ceaselessly worked her nipples in turns, while his hand, continuing to grope her ass, inched closer and closer to her core. The anticipation made her shiver - a sign that was not lost on her lover. It wasn’t long until Sanji’s long fingers went for a feel. He needed to know just how much he was pleasing her, just how wet she was for him - just how much she wanted him.

His finger brushed against her gently, softly, teasingly… Then he stopped abruptly. He looked up at her with wide eyes, and his mouth hanging slightly as he tried to string the words together. His finger was coated in slick. The sly grin on her face - her lipstick now dishevelled out of bounds - and that subtle wiggle of her eyebrows gave him the answer to his silent question.

Sanji could feel a thin stream of blood peak from his nostril as the realisation sunk in. He didn’t think he could have loved this woman even more, and yet, here he was, overcome with love and lust alike for the goddess before him.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned the blood off his face. Afterall, it wouldn’t do to smear the lady with his blood.

“I didn’t think I could love you even more,” he whispered, as he stared down at his wet finger. His confession earned him a mischievous smile from his lover.

“Oh?” she mused teasingly, as she gently pushed his wet digit into his mouth. Sanji’s lips parted, taking it in, and sucking her essence clean off. He hummed at the taste - every aspect of her was simply delicious to him. She smiled at the sound and let go of his hand.

“How about you show me just how much you love me then?” she asked, a mischievous grin on her beautiful lips. She slowly turned around for him, his eyes trained on her form as she moved. Bending over slowly, she propped herself on the desk seat. The frilly lace of her blue panties parted to frame her lips perfectly, and reveal her welcoming warmth to him. Her pussy glistened with arousal, twitching slightly in anticipation.

Sanji wasted no time yanking his tie loose, and dropping to his knees behind her. It was far from the first time eating her out, yet he could never tire of it. Sanji was a pleaser - if he could spend the rest of his life pleasuring this divine being that deigned to claim him as her own, he could die a happy man.

He grabbed her hips and teasingly traced her folds with his tongue, making her jolt from the sensitivity. Sanji smirked at her reaction. His hands trailed

“My gods, darling, everything about you is simply divine,” he murmured as his hands roamed over her belt - over silky and lacey fabrics alike, before settling on her ass cheeks. His breath fanned over her core, sending a shiver up her spine. Then Sanji’s fingers slipped under her straps - it was so close, so intimate, like being bound to her in body too, and not just heart. His heart thumped at the thought.

“To think that I get to taste you…” His words trailed off. His tongue flicked over her sensitive bud, making her pussy clench hard.

“...is more than I deserve…” He continued. His tongue dragged languidly over her wet warmth. Sanji moaned at the taste, sending pleasant vibrations up her back.

“...and I thank you for it, love.”

With that, he eagerly set about his work. His tongue licked circles over her clit, making her tense with pleasure. It then trailed over her folds - once, twice, thrice. With every flick of his tongue, her sounds grew more strained - more needy - wordlessly asking for more.

Every time he dipped past her entrance, her needy core would clench around nothing, pushing out more of her essence. Every time he left her aching, she’d whine so sweetly. His tongue dipped between her folds - after all, who was Sanji to deny his lady her wish?

She hummed at the feeling of his slippery muscle exploring her wet core. Her fingers grasped a little tighter at the little cushion on the chair. The way he ate her never disappointed - he seemed insatiable; like a parched man who’d just discovered an oasis in the desert.

Sanji devoured her feverishly. He lapped at her juices as if trying to get every last drop into his mouth. He hummed and moaned at the taste; at the thought of pleasuring her. His sounds of pleasure vibrated against her core, adding to the stimulation. His hums and moans were met with whines and moans of her own, only spurring him on.

His lips latched onto her clit, sucking on it just the way she liked it. He moaned softly as his tongue assaulted her little bundle of nerves in all the best, most delicious ways.

She struggled to keep her voice down. No one needed to hear this but them… And maybe the Marimo, though that was mostly Sanji’s opinion. He’d have loved to rub it in his face… Yet, restrained as they were, their moans were enough to fill the small room.

Her restraint began to falter when Sanji dipped a long, graceful finger inside her, easing it in, bit by bit. With Sanji now knuckle-deep in her, she nearly choked on her strained moan when he began to curl his finger, tickling that sweet spot. He curled and pumped his finger inside her as he continued to lick her clit relentlessly.

She dipped down to her elbows, and placed a hand over her mouth, trying to tame her voice. But Sanji was having none of that, as he slipped in a second digit, and began pumping them faster.

“Come on, love,” he hummed. “Let it out, love” he encouraged. “Let me hear that beautiful voice.” His tongue sucked hard on her swollen clit, as his fingers curled to press hard on her soft spot. And she broke… A loud moan escaped past her hands, prompting her to press her palm harder to her lips. But Sanji would not have it, as he continued his ministrations ín force.

“Sanji,” she managed to choke out. “They’ll… hear- ah! Ah! Sanji!” She could feel a grin tugging at his lips.

“Hmm? Let them hear us,” he hummed against her. “You just enjoy yourself, love.”

Sanji felt honoured to be of such intimate service to a woman as precious and radiant as her; honoured to be allowed to dip his sinner’s tongue between her precious folds. And he would do anything and everything in his power to ensure her pleasure.

“Come on, love,” he urged on. His free hand pinched one of her garter straps. “Let go.” Snap. He let go. The strap snapped against her skin, adding a pleasant sting to his words. “Cum for me…” His fingers curl and pump inside her, hitting her soft spot faster and harder. “Please...”

The way he was working her cunt - his lips on her flesh, his tongue flicking over her clit, his fingers ruthlessly hitting all the right spots, the way he hummed against her, sending such pleasant shivers up her spine, and those dirty words leaving his pretty lips, giving her goosebumps - made it near impossible to keep her voice down. Her climax was approaching fast. She was panting as she felt that familiar knot form in her belly. Her moans grew louder, as her walls started clenching harder and faster around his fingers. Sanji could tell she was close.

“Come on, love. Let go,” he urged again. His voice was low, and deep. There was that certain tone he only ever got when they were alone together. He knew it drove her wild.

Her voice was growing louder - just the way he wanted it to. He snapped her garter strap again. Her walls spasmed. She could feel that knot tightening, threatening to burst. Sanji had to fight back a smirk. She was so close. His fingers rubbed her clit fast. He hummed deeply as he continued to suck and licked her clit. The vibrations rushed through her core, through every nerve, finally pushing her over the edge.

“Sanji~” Her voice sang out his name on a broken moan as she came undone around his fingers. Sanji chuckled, pleased with himself, as he continued to finger her through her orgasm. His chuckle sent another wave of pleasure to her sensitive core, making her clench even harder around him. Her sweet sounds filled the room as she moaned and panted in ecstasy.

Sanji pulled his fingers out of her weeping cunt. She was slowly coming down from her high, and he took the opportunity to indulge himself, and dive in, lapping at her nectar. His tongue dragged past her folds a few times, before dipping in to collect as much of her essence on his tongue as he could.

She was still sensitive from her release. The feeling on his tongue hungrily roaming her insides once more was intense - almost too much. Her fingers clenched at the seat’s cushion. She whimpered as he continued to eat her out for a few more seconds. It was intense, but she knew he loved this part oh so much. And afterall, she didn’t mind it all that much either. She loved the way he revered and adored her.

He squeezed her ass cheeks and pushed them closer together. His face was a mess by now - coated in her thick, glistening slick - and he loved it that way. He could have done it for days, but the way she whimpered under his touch told him that a few more licks will have had to suffice for now.

His tongue slipped out of her once more. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief to quickly clean up his face - It wouldn’t do for a gentleman to kiss a lady while smeared so.

Having cleaned himself up, he tossed the handkerchief on the desk. He watched her as she steadied her breath and regained her composure. She arched her back, stretching like a cat. How graceful she was in all things. Sanji rose to his feet, and she turned around to face him. Their eyes met, and they both smiled at each other - softly, gently, like the love in their hearts.

“That was so good, darling,” she praised him. Her hand came up to cup his cheek. Her thumb lightly rubbed over his stubble.

“Only my best for you, cherie,” he responded, while taking his hand in his once more and placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Leaning in, she beckoned Sanji to kiss her. Their lips met in a slow, deep kiss. Her hands caressed his firm chest and arms slowly, sensually. His hands cupped her face, before one of them sank to rest on her lower back. His hand was large, warm, and soothing. It made her feel safe… wanted… like she truly belonged there, in his arms.

She pressed her lips harder against his. Sanji happily obliged her, and deepened the kiss. Her hands made short work of loosening his dress shirt’s buttons. Her hands roamed over his bare chest, feeling it rise and fall. His breathing was slowly picking up, as was hers. She paused for a few moments over his left breast. She could feel his heart beat firmly in his chest. Though it beat fast, she knew that it beat fast for her, with love, and with desire. Every time she felt his heart beneath her fingertips, or laid her head on his chest, she was reminded of just how deeply one can love another.

She smiled into the kiss. Her hands resumed their travels, continuing on south - down from his firm chest and to his sculpted abs. His muscles tensed under her touch. Her fingers traced them slowly, feeling the way they dipped and bulged.

Sanji licked her bottom lip, gently requesting entrance - a request she most happily approved. Her soft lips parted for him, and his tongue entered her mouth slowly. The kiss was slow, yet passionate. Sanji took his time to savour her tongue on his, swallowing the soft moans she gave him. His hands reached down to squeeze her plump ass, and he groaned softly into the kiss.

One of her hands slipped further down. It trailed lightly over his belt, feigning to hook its fingers in it, before continuing on lower, and settling on his bulge. His hard shaft twitched in his pants under her light touch. She smirked into the kiss. Her hand applied more pressure, and began rubbing up and down his generous length. The roles now reversed, Sanji groaned into her mouth - his cock straining against the constraints of his suit pants.

Her fingers hooked themselves into his belt, and made short work of his buckle. Then the button… and finally the zipper. Sanji made a somewhat high pitched noise at the newfound freedom. He loved it so much when she undressed him - it just made him feel so wanted. And to be wanted by a woman like her was certainly quite the accomplishment.

His hands travelled up to cup her face. He meant to do so gently, as a silent ‘I love you’, but the way she shuffled his pants off his hips and grabbed a firm hold of his clothed hard cock, made it hard to contain himself. Sanji took control of the kiss. His lips pressed harder against hers. His mouth became insatiable. He needed her. He needed her in every way conceivable. To love, to cherish, to hold… and to fuck absolutely senseless.

She melted into the kiss. Melted in his warm, large hands as they trailed over her body, pawing at her every curve.

It didn’t take her long to yank the boxers off his hips. His pretty cock sprang to attention - long, thick and glistening with precum. Her thumb rubbed over his tip, spreading the precum around, earning her a grateful moan from her man.

Their mouths parted slowly. They both looked so messy smeared with her lipstick, and a string of drool dangling between their lips. They gazed into each other's eyes. There was love and passion in them - soft as the soothing summer rain, yet wild like the storm. She pecked him on the lips once more before shooting him a look. There was a cheeky grin on her lips, and her eyes spelled mischief.

“Sit down, love,” she urged, as her hands nudged him towards the bed behind him.

Sanji obliged, stumbling back, his pants still around his legs. A few shuffles later, he plopped on their soft bed. His hands lingered on her form, running up and down her sides, and rubbing over the soft fabrics that hugged her curves so sinfully. His eyes, turned upward, behold her with an awe that borders on reverence.

“You are truly majestic, my love. How a man like me could be so blessed, nobody knows,” he murmurs softly.

She smiled and shook her head at him. Placing her hands on his strong shoulders, she leant in to plant a soft, warm kiss to his swollen lips.

“I’m the one that’s lucky to have you, darling. And tonight I want to show you just how much I appreciate you,” she whispered against his lips.

With one more gentle kiss to his lips, she sank to her knees before him. Her hands pulled his boxers and his pants all the way off, and he shuffled them off his feet, tossing them someplace in the room.

His length stood firm at attention. He could feel her breath slowly fanning over it as she looked up at him. Her warm hand wrapped around his girth, her hand too small to wrap all the way around it. She smiled up at him as she slowly began pumping his cock.

“Wait,” he said. His hand reached back and grabbed a cushion. Bending forward, he gestured for her to place it under her knees. “Here,” he said, as she allowed him to slip the puffy padding under her, “it wouldn’t do to have you kneeling on the hard floor.”

Sanji’d always been so soft and caring towards her.

“Thank you, love,” she murmured, giving him a warm smile.

Sanji returned the smile, and placed a hand on her head, caressing her hair.

Her eyes then turned to her work. His tip was still squeezing out tiny droplets of desire. She rubbed the tip, spreading it around. Her head dipped down and began pressing chaste kisses along his length, from the thick bottom, to his pretty, pink tip.

Sanji sighed, feeling her lips teasingly kissing his shaft. His cock twitched hard when her tongue flattened against the base and traced a long line up to his tip. She teased the tip of his dick, tasting the salty cock droplets. Her lips sucked on the tip, as if trying to get more of it. Then, she set about licking along his length a few more times. It was torture for Sanji, but he was not one to complain. While eager to feel her beautiful lips wrapped around his cock, his length sliding down her pretty little throat, a part of him relished the teasing and anticipation. His fingers twitched in her hair, trying to grab it just yet, trying to keep himself composed.

She judged how long to tease him based on his reactions - his wistful sighs, the tensing muscles in his strong legs, and the way his cock twitched so deliciously in her hand, begging for more. At last, she relented. Her eyes looked up at him as she tentatively wrapped her lips around his tip and sucked gently. Sanji nearly hissed at the feeling. She sucked a little harder, and could feel his fingers twitch in her hair again.

Gathering some spit in her mouth, she welcomed him in her mouth, slowly inching down along his smooth length. She could hear him sigh above her. His hands now gathered her hair at the top of her head. His fingers tangled in her silky soft locks, keeping them out of her face.

She’d made it about halfway down when she began slowly bobbing her head. One hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping him in sync with her mouth. The other hand rose to cup his balls and gently fondle them.

He swallowed dryly and tried to hold back a whimper. This only urged her on to suck on him harder.

Sanji’s breath was becoming shallower. His cheeks were dusted with such a pretty pink, as he looked down at her head bobbing up and down his length. Her hand would sometimes twist around his cock. Every now and then she would give him a particularly harsh suck, and he would groan. Down below, she took his sighs and groans as compliments and directions.

His girth was generous and she would sometimes need a small break. In those moments, she would sometimes settle on teasing the soft, pink tip - sucking it, or swirling her tongue over it. Other times, she would pump his full length with both hands. Either way, she would leave him waiting for too long.

She was quick to show him just how much she appreciated him. Removing a hand from his cock and placing it back on his sack, she dove down along his length, swallowing him whole.

Her lover gasped at the sudden wave of warmth and pleasure, somewhat surprised to suddenly feel himself sliding down her throat. She held him there for a little while, enjoying the way he moaned helplessly above her. Sanji had always been vocal in bed, and she loved it. Trying to elicit those sounds out of him was something of a competition she had with herself.

She began moving her head up and down again, sucking as hard as she could along the way, before releasing him from her mouth again with a lewd pop. She was such a mess as she looked up at him, all flushed and panting. A string of drool hung ‘tween her lips and his cock, and Sanji was quite convinced there were few sights more obscene than this. His cock was covered in her spit. Her once painted lips had left a red ring around the thick base of his cock, a reminder of how deep she’d gone. Sanji’s heart skipped a beat when he looked at her like that. Even after all this time, he sometimes still could not believe his luck. He felt beyond special to have such an effervescent beauty on her knees for him, sucking him off.

She looked up at him with flushed cheeks and teary eyes. There was still that smile on her face, as if silently asking ‘Is this good enough for you?’ It was about to drive him mad.

“You are too good for me, ma cherie,” he muttered, and she grinned, diving back down. She insisted on giving him her best shot. Even if it often made her choke and gag, it didn’t matter. Hell, judging by his sounds, the vibrations must have been quite nice for him. Or maybe it was the sound of her choosing his fat cock over the oxygen she needed to breathe?

Drool coated her fist, and dripped down towards his balls. His breaths were shallow and ragged. His legs trembled, and she could feel his balls tightening. He was close to cumming. She could feel it. And she wanted to taste it.

Though struggling, she tried to keep up the pace - bobbing, and sucking, pumping as needed. It was no easy task, but it was worth it to see the look on his face when she swallowed his milk.

Sanji moaned above her. His one hand grabbed a hold of her hair, while his other hand clutched the sheets. She bobbed her head faster, trying to take him as deeply as she could without gagging too much. Her mouth threatened to suck the very life right out of him in the most deliciously zealous way. When she moaned around his cock, it was game over. He throbbed in her hand, and twitched in her mouth. His cum spurted into her mouth as she continued to pump him through his orgasm. A strangled gasp left his lips as he tried to steady his breath, as his hand slowly caressed her head.

Once he stopped twitching, she released his spent cock from her mouth and looked up to him with a smile. His eyes gazed down at her with the most tender expression; love, admiration, and gratitude written all over his handsome features.

She opened her mouth. His breath stopped and his body tensed with a new wave of arousal as he looked at the salty white liquid that filled her pretty mouth. She then swallowed heavily, not taking his eyes off him for a second. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her pretty little throat twitch as she swallowed his load. Her fingers came up to gingerly dab the corners of her mouth - her thumb brushing lightly against one corner of her lips, then her ring finger against the other. She was breathtaking.

She slowly rose to her feet and placed her hands on his shoulders. His gaze followed her, mesmerised.

“Lay back, love,” she instructed, as her hands gently pushed down on his strong shoulders. Sanji did as he was told. Who was he to disobey his lady, especially when she was being so very persuasive?

With him flat against the mattress, she wasted no time climbing on top of him, her thick thighs straddling him. Her hands roamed every inch of his chiselled, exposed torso, as she leant down and captured his lips in a fervent kiss.

Sanji grabbed her shoulders, pushing her upright and following suit. His hands desperately tugged at his shirt, trying to shake it off his shoulders. Catching on, she rushed to help. The more skin exposed, the better. They quickly managed to dispose of his shirt, tossing it somewhere across the room, and resuming position. Her hands pushed him back down on the bed, while his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer.

The kiss was growing more and more heated. Lips dancing against each other’s, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, hands roaming wherever they could reach. Sanji ground up against her; his hard length pressing and rubbing against her slick, wet folds.

She broke the kiss, leaving his still hungry lips hanging, and quickly latched on to his neck, kissing, sucking, and licking down, along his neck, collar bones, and chest.

His hands roamed her sides, tracing the smooth curves over her body. He enjoyed the contrast between her bare skin and the intricate designs of the lingerie still enclosing her hips, her waist, her legs.

Jolting up, and arching her back, she ground her heat over his cock. She moaned at the friction, and panted lightly as she smiled down at him.

“Ready for the main course?” she asked.There was a frenzied look on her face as she looked down at him - anticipation, no doubt. She could feel him twitch against her.

“Oh, I could not be more ready,” he rasped, as he reached up to cup the back of her head and pull her down in an ardent kiss. His free hand reached down, and positioned his cock at her entrance. She was practically dripping for him. He prodded her entrance, always making sure she wasn’t forcing it. He moaned into the kiss. Her walls clamped hard around him, before letting up again.

“You doing alright, love?” he asked. No matter how many times they did this, his concern for her well-being and satisfaction would never cease, nor diminish.

“Mmm~,” she hummed, as she rose up again and dragged a hand through her dishevelled hair. “I am more than alright,” she assured him, right before her hips pressed down on him; her needy cunt swallowing his length whole, the sudden feeling making them both gasp loudly.

“Gods,” he gasped, as his hands grabbed her ass. “Ah~” His head fell back against the mattress. “You’re so. fucking . tight!” he hissed between his teeth, as his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. She could only moan in response, as her walls clenched around him, still adjusting to his sizeable girth. Sanji, too, could use the moment to steady himself - wouldn’t want to disappoint the lady, now, would he?

They laid there for a moment or two, in each other’s embrace, as they caught their breath and adjusted to one another. Their eyes then met - there was that same frenzied, hungry look in them. A small smile twisted on her lips in a blend of sweet love and unadulterated lust. A nod of her head was all he needed - his hips pulled back slowly, then pushed back up into her heat. Her hips met his tempo, bouncing herself up and down his length as her tongue slipped into his mouth. Moans and sighs were muffled by their kiss. The slapping sounds of skin on skin echoes off the walls of their bedroom. One’s drool in the other’s mouth. One’s sweat on the other’s body. One’s juices blending with their lover’s.

The heat was rising. The tempo picked up. Fingers dug deeper in each other’s flesh - her nails clawed at his chest; his fingers dug into her hips as he helped bounce her up and down his cock. Her juices coated him completely. Sanji admired the way sweat started dripping down her neck… pooling between her plump and glistening breasts as they bounced around for him. But there was only so far she could go. She could not keep up with the pace any longer - her legs were tired, her body felt heavy. Sanji noticed, and stilled her hips, pulling them down on him. He smiled at her.

“You’ve done far more than enough, my love,” he said. His hand reached up and gently grasped her chin between his fingers. He guided her down to his lips, meeting her halfway in a soft kiss. “It’s time I took good care of my lady,” he said softly, placing one more kiss to her lips, before flipping her on her back. He never once broke their union - it would have been sacrilegious.

Sanji wasted no time resuming their dance. His pace was steady, moderate, as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Sanji,” she sighed. “Please~ I need more…”

She didn’t need to ask him twice.

Sanji carefully grabbed her thighs, and lifted them slowly. His warm lips pressed soft kisses to the sides of her knees as he eyed her, checking for any signs of discomfort. But the deeper angle only made her sigh in pleasure and drop her head back on the pillow. This was good.

Sanji smiled to himself as he watched her face twist in pleasure. He could do this all night, just to see her like that. And he loved to hear the way his name would fall from her swollen lips in broken moans or breathy whispers; the way she chanted his name and his praises; the way she begged for more, as if in prayer.

Indeed, it had come thus far. He hadn’t even noticed how his pace had picked up, but she clearly had - there was no doubt that she’d forgotten all about being quiet… or perhaps no longer cared? Her cries filled the room as his cock bullied her G-spot.

“Sa- Sa- Ah! Sanji! Sanji! Oh! Harder! F-Fuck- Fuck me- Harder!”

Sanji leaned a little heavier on her legs, propping them closer to her chest, fucking her still deeper. He leaned down, their foreheads nearly touching, their breaths mixing as they panted and moaned and groaned in unison. Her arms reached up to wrap around his neck. A sheen of sweat was starting to form on his brow as he pounded her harder. The heat was steadily rising. Her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping him against her body. Her cunt was so tight, so welcoming, so… greedy for him.

“My gods, I love you,” he groaned in her ear, each word punctuated by a hard thrust.

She was past the point of stringing words together - every sound coming from her pretty throat a wanton cry begging for more as her fingers clawed at his back.

Sanji was mesmerised by her - the pretty sounds she made, the way her breasts bounced so sensually before him with every impact, the way she was so needy for him and only him, the way he’d reduced her to this moaning, screaming mess.

The room was filled with their pleasure - their moans and cries, the sounds of her soppy cunt, and his balls slapping against her ass, the smell of sweat and sex, the growing heat… It wasn’t all that long until her walls started clenching around him. Sanji sucked a breath in. She was threatening to pull him over the edge, but he had to hold back - hold until he knew she’d come.But it was hard… So damn hard…

“I - I’m so close!” she cried out. Sanji groaned in response. He was giving it his all and then some. His hands grasped her shoulders for leverage, aiming to go as deep as he could.

With a broken moan she came undone beneath him, her slick coating his cock and forming a white ring around the thick base. She looked so pretty like that - her lips parted in a silent scream, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Sanji kept fucking her through her orgasm. His pace was growing frenzied as he searched for his own. He was so close… So close! He needed to be deep - as deep as he could - when he pumped her full of his milky white seed.

And there he was, coming just shortly after her. Her body’d gone limp in bliss underneath him; the biggest smile on her face - all blissed out. Her legs trembled around his waist as his thrusts stuttered. He pushed into her a few more times, pumping his cum into her greedy cunt, then slowed down.

He placed his forehead on hers and looked into her eyes. This had to be the very height of love; the closest that two souls could get to becoming one - their sweat, their cum, their breaths all mixing, as they gazed into each other’s eyes. They say the eyes are windows to the soul… And Sanji could remember ever having seen such a bright and beautiful soul before in his life.

Silence fell over them as they slowly came down from their highs. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks.

“I love you,” he whispered, breaking the silence, and his lips found hers in a long, sweet kiss - gentle, tender and full of love.

When their lips parted, she looked up at him with a sweet smile.

��Are you ready, love?” she asked softly. She knew she had to ask it - if it had been for Sanji, he probably wouldn’t have pulled out ever again. And Sanji knew it too…

Sanji nodded. “You know I’ll never be ready. So it’s up to you, love,” he said with a small smile, and a hint of amusement on his face.

She giggled and nodded at him. Sanji shifted his weight around, and he slowly pulled out of her. Watching his seed seep out of her twitching cunt was a sight to behold; a sight he’d never tire of. A part of him was considering trying to go for another round, but the look on her face told him she was spent for the night. ‘And what a perfectly wonderful night it’s been,’ he thought to himself.

Standing up, Sanji headed to the faucet in their little en-suite bathroom. When they decided to move in together, Sanji asked Franky if he could arrange some privacy for them, which Franky was happy to puzzle out.

He grabbed a soft wash-cloth and turned on the tap, letting it run warm for a moment. He washed himself in the low basin with warm water and soap, then returned to her with the warm, damp cloth.

She was still laying on the bed; her legs still somewhat open. The flush on her skin was starting to wear off.

Sanji sat down on the bed and began cleaning her up. He did this every time. Of course she could do it herself, but he always insisted that it was the least he could do for her and the truth was that she enjoyed the extended intimacy.

She’d watch him clean her up - always so careful of hurting her - and talk to him in hushed tones about this or the other, blending in sweet nothings wherever she could. He was just so good to her.

When he was done, he went and placed the cloth on the edge of the sink, and made haste to return to her.

“Shall I get you your nightgown, love?” he asked, noticing the goosebumps on her skin.

“I don’t think I’ll need it with you by my side,” she answered, getting under the blankets and holding them open for him to join.

Sanji smiled at her. Smiled to himself. He’d never imagined such a love was possible - certainly not for him. And yet, here they were - more in love than the poets could verse.

He made his way to the bed and crawled in beside her. He turned the lights out from the switch by the bedside.

She turned around and pulled her hair back. Sanji slipped an arm under her head, while his other arm went to pull her closer. He nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent - perfume, and sweat… and him.

Her hips shuffled around, pushing back against his. “You know,” she started, “the early hours are particularly cold… I might need some extra help to stay warm in the morning,” he mused, and she could feel Sanji’s soldier rise up to attention again.

Tag list: @sampaisleyriot Not sure which of the guys you were waiting for (if any in particular), but I hope you like it :)

#Not proofread #Might edit later #Building on my OP Lingerie HCs #divider by cafekitsune #one piece #one piece smut #Sanji x Reader #Sanji x Reader Smut #Black Leg Sanji #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji x reader #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji smut

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solxamber · 5 months ago

Note

hiii~ I saw that you had the tray open 👀 I liked the request about reader angel so I was wondering if I could request something similar with reader being a cherub but a mischievous and rebellious version in addition to keeping his nature a secret and pretending to be a human? (for Jamil, Rook, Vil and Lilia) thanks in advance and have a good day ^^)/

Jamil, Rook, Vil, Lilia with a Cherub! reader.

thank you for the request, I hope you like it!

Jamil Viper

Jamil had always suspected there was something odd about you. It wasn’t just your tendency to show up exactly when something chaotic was about to happen, but the way you somehow managed to always diffuse situations with that sly smile of yours—like you were pulling the strings from behind the scenes. You, on the other hand, were doing your best to pretend you were just another student at NRC.

One day, as he was wrapping up a particularly stressful training session with Kalim, you approached him with your signature grin, holding out what looked like a poorly wrapped sandwich.

“What’s this?” Jamil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A peace offering,” you said, your eyes twinkling mischievously. “I noticed you’ve been a little, uh, tense.”

Jamil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Gee, I wonder why…”

You chuckled, nudging him with your elbow. “Come on, Jamil, lighten up! Not everything has to be so serious.”

Jamil eyed you suspiciously but took the sandwich. As soon as he bit into it, his eyes widened. “This… this is amazing,” he said, shocked at how something that looked so amateur could taste so perfect.

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I have my ways,” you said, your smile growing wider. “What? You think I’m just some normal person who stumbled into this school?”

Jamil gave you a sharp look. “Wait… you aren’t just a regular student?”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m kinda like your own personal guardian angel, except I’m not great at the ‘innocent’ part.”

He blinked, trying to process this. “You’re… an angel?”

“A cherub, technically,” you corrected. “But, you know, I got bored of playing by the rules.”

Jamil stared at you for a long moment, then sighed, shaking his head. “Of course. The one person who actually makes sense around here, and you turn out to be an actual celestial being.”

You grinned, leaning in a little closer. “Don’t worry, I’m on your side.”

Jamil couldn’t help but laugh, the stress from his day melting away as he looked at you. “I’ll hold you to that. Just… maybe don’t tell Kalim?”

“Not a word,” you promised, but your mischievous smile told him that you might not be as innocent as you claimed.

Rook Hunt

Rook had an uncanny ability to sense when someone wasn’t being entirely truthful, and that’s exactly why you loved teasing him. Every time you managed to dodge one of his questions about your past, you could practically feel his intrigue grow.

One afternoon, as you lounged under a tree in the courtyard, Rook approached you with his usual theatrical flair. “Ah, mon cher! The enigma that is you continues to captivate me.”

You grinned up at him, enjoying the attention. “What can I say? I like keeping things interesting.”

Rook knelt beside you, resting his chin on his hand. “But who are you, really? I’ve noticed the way you move, the way you always seem to be in the right place at the right time… surely, you cannot be just another student.”

You stretched out lazily, tilting your head as if considering whether to tell him. “What if I said I’m a cherub, here to cause a little mischief?”

Rook’s eyes gleamed with delight. “A cherub, you say? How fascinating! And yet, cherubs are known for their innocence, are they not?”

You laughed, sitting up to meet his gaze. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m the black sheep of the cherubs. Got tired of sitting around and watching people from afar.”

Rook looked absolutely enchanted. “Ah, how marvelous! A rebellious angel, seeking thrills among mortals. You truly are one of a kind, mon cher.”

You leaned in a little closer, your playful smile never fading. “Maybe I just wanted to keep an eye on you, Rook.”

He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “To think that such a celestial being would take an interest in me… I am truly honored.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how easily he fell into your playful banter. “Just don’t expect me to be all fluffy wings and harps, alright?”

Rook’s smile was dazzling as he leaned closer. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was far too observant for his own good, which made hiding your true nature as a cherub a bit of a challenge. You had to be careful, constantly balancing your mischievous streak with maintaining your “normal” student cover.

But one day, as you were sitting in the dorm lounge, Vil glanced at you, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re hiding something,” he said, not bothering to soften the accusation.

You gave him your most innocent smile. “Who, me? What could I possibly be hiding?”

Vil crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving yours. “Don’t play coy with me. I’ve seen the way you handle certain situations with… a peculiar ease.”

You tilted your head, still smiling. “Maybe I’m just good at handling things.”

“Or maybe you’re something more,” he countered, his tone sharp but curious. “Perhaps even something… supernatural?”

You laughed, unable to help yourself. “You’re too good, Vil. Fine, you caught me. I’m a cherub.”

Vil blinked, momentarily taken aback. “A cherub? You’re telling me you’re an angel?”

“Technically,” you said, still grinning. “But don’t get any ideas. I’m not the pure, innocent type.”

Vil stared at you for a moment longer before sighing. “Why am I not surprised?”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Maybe because I’m always one step ahead of you?”

Vil smirked, clearly amused despite himself. “That’s a bold claim. And what, pray tell, is your goal here?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see what it’s like to live among humans,” you replied, your voice taking on a more serious tone. “You’d be surprised how different things look from up there.”

Vil watched you carefully, clearly intrigued. “I see. Well, whatever your reason, I can’t deny that you certainly know how to make an impression.”

You winked at him. “Only the best for you, Vil.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Flattery will get you nowhere. But I suppose I’ll allow you to stay… for now.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia was no stranger to magic and strange beings, which made it a little too easy for you to keep your secret from him. After all, he’d probably just laugh it off, right?

One day, while the two of you were sitting together after a particularly chaotic training session with Sebek, you decided to drop a little hint about your true nature.

“You know,” you began, leaning back on the bench, “I’m not exactly what I seem.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow, his mischievous smile already in place. “Oh? And what, pray tell, are you hiding?”

You smirked, deciding to go for it. “I’m a cherub. But, you know, the rebellious type.”

Lilia burst out laughing, clapping his hands together in delight. “Ah, I knew there was something different about you! A cherub with a mischievous streak? How delightful!”

You shrugged, grinning. “Got bored of sitting around and being all pure and innocent. Figured causing a little trouble might be more fun.”

Lilia’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, you’ve certainly found the right place for that. And here I thought you were just an ordinary human.”

You leaned closer, your voice teasing. “Do I look ordinary to you?”

Lilia chuckled, his smile widening. “Hardly. You’re quite the fascinating creature, aren’t you?”

You winked. “I try.”

Lilia gave you a sly look. “Well, if you ever tire of causing mischief alone, you know where to find me.”

Masterlist

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fanbasetwo · 4 months ago

Text

✦ SHORT ON HEIGHT ┊ RIIZE

001. PAIRING , riize × short ! afab reader

002. GENRE , fluff, reaction, headcannon

NOTE FROM SENA , if you’ve seen this on my enhypen blog already and are worried about plagiarism, don’t worry!!

♫︎ REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED

SHOTARO . . . ✦

Shotaro adored every moment spent with you, especially when you were cozied up on the couch together, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder. The warmth of your presence made him feel at home. He glanced down, admiring how small you looked next to him, and couldn’t help but smile. “Are you comfortable, little bean?” he teased, playfully pinching your cheek. You scrunched your nose and swatted his hand away, rolling your eyes with a smirk. “Ugh, I swear, one day I’ll grow taller,” you shot back, trying to sound serious but failing to hide your amusement. Shotaro chuckled, leaning in closer. “Why would you want that? You’re perfect just the way you are.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and you felt your cheeks flush. “Plus, I love being your personal giant,” he added with a wink. “Personal giant?” you echoed, pretending to think it over. “Exactly! I’m always here to lift you up—literally and figuratively.” You melted into his embrace, feeling utterly cherished and loved.

EUNSEOK . . . ✦

Eunseok was in the middle of a video game marathon when he spotted you struggling to hang a cute poster on your wall. You were on your tiptoes, desperately trying to reach the corner while the poster threatened to slip from your grasp. “Need a boost, short stack?” he called out, a playful smirk spreading across his face. You shot him a mock glare, your cheeks puffing out in annoyance. “I’m not short!” you protested, though the laughter in your voice betrayed you. Eunseok chuckled and bounded over, his playful demeanor making your heart flutter. “Alright, let’s see if my superhero skills can save the day,” he said, effortlessly lifting you with one arm and using the other to help secure the poster. As you hung there, dangling in his embrace, you couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Ridiculously in love with you,” he replied, grinning as he set you down, and you both admired your handiwork, feeling warmth and joy in the moment.

SUNGCHAN . . . ✦

You were sprawled out on the couch, deeply engrossed in a magazine when Sungchan plopped down next to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s so fascinating over there, my little bookworm?” he teased, leaning closer to steal a glance at the pages. You glanced up, pretending to be annoyed. “Just some tips for tall people. You know, to remind me what I’m missing,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a dramatic flair. He chuckled, the sound warm and infectious. “I bet there’s a section on how to embrace your shortness!” Before you could retort, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, causing you to squeal in surprise. “See? Being short just means you can sit here like this,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. Your cheeks flushed at his affection. “So you’re saying my height is just an excuse for extra cuddles?” “Exactly,” he grinned, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “And I love every bit of it.”

WONBIN . . . ✦

Wonbin loved those lazy afternoons when you two cuddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a cozy burrito. With your head tucked under his chin, you felt safe and content, listening to his heartbeat, which always seemed to match the rhythm of your own. “Do you ever get tired of being so short?” he teased lightly, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he glanced down at you. You shot him an exaggerated glare, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me? Being short is a lifestyle,” you replied, puffing out your cheeks dramatically. Wonbin laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to carry you everywhere,” he said, playfully lifting you up as if you weighed nothing at all. “Or maybe I’ll just start using a booster seat,” you quipped, and he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Nah, I love having you right here.”

SEUNGHAN . . . ✦

Couldn't you feel a little irritation just flipping through pictures that you and Seunghan took together? There you were, standing next to him, just like a small child sitting next to a gigantic tree. Your pouting face looked so much the deeper as you continued to zoom in on how he flashed it with all confidence and not how you were in catch-up mode. “Why do I look like I belong in a toy store?” you huffed, tossing your phone onto the couch. Seunghan caught your sulk from the corner of his eye and chuckled, pulling his arms around you from behind. “You're cute like this!” he teased, nudging your cheek with his chin. “Cute?” you sneered, but the warmth of his embrace melted that annoyance away. “You just want to be the big spoon, don't you?” you accused with a chuckle and he just gave a squeeze to your sides, lifting himself up enough to snuggle into the crook of your arm. “Always,” he replied with a laugh, and it spread a smile across your face.

SOHEE . . . ✦

You were going to snag that salt off the top shelf. Laser focus, one leg up, reaching for it, you were going to come out victorious and take it. But that was when, just as you were brushing a finger over the container, someone swooped in and snatched it with ease. “Really?” Sohee said with a small smile, his teasing voice snapping you out of your moment of concentration. “You're climbing counters now?” You turned, flushing with embarrassment, shot him a half-hearted glare as he held the salt just out of reach, clearly enjoying this. “I had it under control,” you muttered, hopping down with as much dignity as you could muster. “Yeah, Spider-Woman,” he laughed, finally handing over the salt. You had no time to protest as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. “You're cute when you're all determined like that. But next time, just ask for help, okay?” he said, pressing a playful kiss to your forehead.

ANTON . . . ✦

As you strolled through the park, the sun was shining brightly upon you and Anton. He walked alongside you, his long legs swallowing space so easily that you began to walk a little fast to keep pace. “Hey, slow up, will ya?” you laughed, faking to be out of breath. “I'm not built for marathon walking like you are!” Anton turned to you, playing the innocent. “What are you talking about? I thought you enjoyed our adventures!” you rolled your eyes as you nudged him lightly. “Adventures don't have to feel like a workout!” He chuckled, quickly snatching your hand and swinging it playfully as you walked. “Alright, I'll keep the pace slow for my favorite shorty,” he teased, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the cheek. You smiled back at him and your heart bounced in your chest. “You bet, or I'm running you round the park.” He grinned, his eyes flashing an opportunist glint of mischief and saying, “Deal.”

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bookworrm1999 · 12 days ago

Text

How Far Away? Part 6

Caleb x Mc

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication, miscarriage scare

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she's pregnant. She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

AO3

Epilogue

Your anatomy scan was in two weeks and the little baby bean was doing well at 18 weeks.

This sugar drink from Hell was just nasty though, oh the things you do for love. You laid a hand over your bump, now a sizable little thing.

It was so cute, even though the bean inside it had caused you so much sickness.

You sipped more of the nasty glucose drink, grimacing the whole time. Finishing this horrible thing in 15 minutes seemed like such a chore.

Screw it, you threw it back like a shot and chugged it.

Ugh, you nearly puked from the taste and the texture but managed to hold it down as you wiped your mouth.

Tossing that bottle into the trash felt like victory.

You couldn’t even drink some water after all that.

What were you going to do for 30 minutes?

Well, you had lots of practice in just staring into space these days.

A memory swallowed you, bringing you back to happier days.

“Caleb?”

“Yes sweet girl?”

“Do you think we could play a game?”

“Sure what do you want to play?”

You scrunch your nose before clapping with glee.

“Oh! Can we play truth or dare?”

Caleb laughs before settling down on the couch next to you, pulling on the end of your nose.

“What, you didn’t play that enough in high school pipsqueak?”

“No! I mean I did but you never let us play it together when we were young. You always found some way to deflect.” You pouted a bit but fascination overcame you as you watched the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Well,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I couldn’t exactly play it and risk my feelings for you coming out. My friends weren’t exactly kind enough to not dare me to kiss you or some shit like that.”

“Ha! So the truth comes to light!”

He digs his fingers into your waist, making you squeak because it was ticklish.

“And what about it?”

“Can we play now though?”

“Sure squeaks.”

You tap your chin before holding your finger up as if an important thought came to mind.

“I dare you to kiss me!”

“Really? That’s what you use your dare on? I would’ve done that without a dare.” He scoffs and kisses you, holding your chin as he bites your bottom lip a bit before pulling away.

“I’m going to ease you into it!”

“Well I’m not! I dare you to go to the other room and take a naughty photo then send it to my phone, I need a new wallpaper.”

“What?!” You squeak.

He uses his evol to push you up off the couch

“Hop to it squeaks!”

“You’re going to regret that!” You say this as you stomp to the bedroom, you’re going to make his dick so hard that he’ll beg you for release.

30 minutes passed as you escaped to your memories. Tears leaking out a bit as the image of Caleb was seared into your mind.

“Hey.”

This jolts you out of your daydream, you sit up jerkily as your legs had fallen asleep. Rubbing your eyes and face to get rid of the evidence, you look towards the speaker.

It’s Zayne, he looks at you with concern.

“Is something wrong? Why are you waiting here?”

“Oh,” you laugh a bit, “I’m fine, just waiting on my glucose test.”

“Oh, have you gotten your blood drawn yet?”

“No, I need to go do that now. Thank you for checking on me.”

Getting up to leave, he stops you before glancing away, not wanting to meet your eyes as he asks

“Can I take you to dinner?”

This instantly brings back the memory of him asking you to marry him almost two weeks ago. You didn’t think it was a good idea, way too soon to think about marriage and not fair to Zayne at all.

“Zayne, maybe that’s not a-“

“I just want to take you to dinner. If it happens to show you that I could be a good choice, that’s great. But I really just want to make sure you’re okay. You’re my friend after all.”

Oh, well that deflates your argument. He’s right, he’s your friend first and you had shut everyone else out.

Maybe going out for once could be good. Get some actual food for the baby instead of a protein bar and a banana.

“Ok, I’ll go to dinner with you. I just have to go get my blood drawn and we can go.” You glance down at your outfit, right. “I’m not really dressed for anything fancy.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He waves his hand “Go finish the test.”

Right, you walk to the lab and finish the test without issue.

Walking back, he’s already clocked out and waiting for you.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can get you a nutritious meal, I have my doubts on how well you are eating at home.”

“Hey! I have a basket right by my bed full of things that I made sure are acceptable foods for the baby.”

“By the bed…”

Oh, you had just given away a small piece of what life had been like for you lately. Too late to take it back now.

Getting into his car and sitting in silence was so awkward. But finding something to talk about to fill the silence was like trying to scale a mountain in the snow.

You didn’t have the energy to waste on small talk these days.

He pulled up in front of a small restaurant surrounded by ivy, kept warm by glass barriers from the winter weather.

He held your door open for you and offered a hand.

You took it, thankful, getting out by yourself even at this early stage of pregnancy was awkward. Getting out of your deep and comfy chair at home was like competing in a triathlon. Zayne didn’t need to know that though.

You and he were seated relatively quickly with menus at a small table in the corner. Which gave you an immediate distraction from his intense gaze.

“Have you seen a therapist?”

“Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?” You glance at his serious face over the menu.

“I should think that the reason would be obvious.” Now holding his hands out with all his fingertips spread out and touching, he leans against them, only his eyes visible.

“No I haven’t.”

“I think you should, it would be beneficial for you and for your baby.”

“I know, my OB gave me some information on therapists and social workers that I could reach out to if I choose to.”

“But you haven’t.” He states this as if it affects him and not you.

“No, now stopping bugging me about it.”

He sighs before laying a hand on yours, the warmth of another’s touch leaving you a bit breathless after not touching anyone in almost a month.

“I’m worried for you, I care about you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Zayne, I… I really can’t think about you in that way right now.”

“That’s not my intention right now. My objective is purely to make sure you are alright, as a friend. If I could help you by marrying you, if that’s what you needed, I would. But it’s not my focus.”

Now you felt really bad, you kept boiling him down to thinking he only wants you as his wife.

He was your friend first and foremost.

“I’m sorry Zayne. I-I will try to reach out to somebody soon ok?”

“Thank you.” He releases your hand and looks at his own menu.

You order a light meal, just some protein and a side. But it was your first real meal in weeks.

Having it next to such a good friend who cared made your heart feel a little warm.

Your baby now able to kick you a bit, leaves you feeling not quite so alone.

You end your dinner with Zayne on a higher note than you would’ve expected it to be. Holding a small box of what you couldn’t finish, you smile at him. It was small but a real genuine smile was on your face.

It lightening your countenance and a bit of that pregnancy glow finally came through.

Snowflakes started falling lightly from the sky.

Landing in your hair and eyelashes, making you look like you truly belonged in the snow.

Zayne looked at you eyes a bit wide before he raised your hand, held it to his lips, brushing against your skin as he whispered

“Goodnight.”

You pulled your hand away, it wasn’t time for that.

“Goodnight Zayne.” You drew your line in the sand.

Turning around, you headed towards that transit center, hoping you could get home before the snow got bad.

Coming home to Caleb’s empty house made you feel guilty. You hadn’t even done anything, you’d set the boundary but you still felt a bit dirty.

Zayne was wonderful but he wasn’t for you. He deserved a girl who loved him with all her heart. Who wouldn’t forever look to the stars for a love that wasn’t ever coming home.

Whose belly wasn’t swollen with the evidence of another man’s love.

But the guilt rose in your throat, choking you. You felt gasping for breath, you sat heavily on the floor next to the bed. You gulped your water bottle but the room still spun.

Caleb, Caleb grounded you.

You fumbled as you pulled your phone out, turning on the camera. Talking to him like this, it made you feel like he was still listening and here with you somehow.

So you gasped and sobbed into the camera.

“Caleb! I can’t breathe! You aren’t here with me and I feel like I’m drowning!”

Getting this out, you managed to suck a few Dee breaths in. Calming down as you imagined him on the other side.

“I went to dinner with Zayne tonight. You know he asked me to marry him? He said he wanted to help somehow….”

You laugh as the absurdity of it hits you.

“Who’d want to marry me? You didn’t, I wasn’t even your girlfriend.”

You glare at your clenched hand.

“Why do I feel so guilty? I love you so much but you’re gone so why is it eating me up?”

You look at your lap but something strange captures your eye. Your dress had ridden up and you thought you saw a flash of red.

“What in the world?”

You set the phone down, forgetting to stop recording.

“Is that blood?”

Lifting your dress, you found your suspicions to be correct, blood in between your thighs. Panic sets in as the world collapses around you.

Tags:@gojosballsack69 @apple-lov3r @dinochocochip @moonberry69 @supermyeon22 @tinnyrabbit @gavin3469 @marina27826 @crowleysthings @tabi-callico @midiplier

@his-ocean-emissary @rosalyne08 @xaviers-pookie-bear @tsunamethyst @thejujvtsupost @cherrybeomgyu

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader

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phoenixblaze1412 · 1 month ago

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P-P-P-P-P-PLEASE MAKE DOTTORE WITH A FEM READER WHO'S INSCURE ABOUT HER BODY + HEADCANONS PLS JDDHDISIDHDH THIS MAN IS MAKING ME CRAZY ARGH😭😭💗💗💗

Of course anon!!

From the moment he met you, Dottore was captivated by your presence. Your soft features and curves were a stark contrast to the cold, rigid environments he was used to and he found them absolutely mesmerizing.

He’s a man of science, after all, how could he not admire the balance and symmetry of your form? He often comments on this in his clinical yet endearing way.

“Fascinating. You’re truly exquisite in ways others fail to appreciate. Yet you are mine and mine alone, which makes me the most happiest."

When he notices you feeling self-conscious or trying to cover yourself up, he immediately intervenes. Dottore has little patience for your insecurities, not because they annoy him, but because he can’t fathom how you could doubt your own beauty.

He’ll tilt your chin up with a gloved finger, his piercing gaze meeting yours. “Do you truly believe I would waste my time with someone unremarkable? I chose you for a reason.”

Dottore adores how soft and warm you are compared to the cold sterility of his lab and even his own cold exterior frame. He often pulls you into his lap while working, resting his chin on your shoulder and letting his hands trace lazy patterns along your arms or sides.

“You’re like a perfect cushion,” he teases with a smirk, though his tone is fond.

Whenever you express doubts about your appearance, he cuts you off with a firm but loving reprimand. “Enough of that nonsense. Your body is a masterpiece, and I won’t have you insulting it nor my taste.”

He’s not afraid to use his sharp tongue to cut down anyone who dares make a comment about your size.

Dottore’s compliments often come wrapped in scientific musings or dry wit.

“Your skin is remarkably soft. I should study how it manages to stay so perfect.”

“Your proportions are ideal. Truly, the gods must have been paying attention when they made you.”

He simply knows how to make you flustered and he lives for it.

Dottore loves seeing you in clothes that accentuate your curves. He insists on getting you tailored outfits that highlight your beauty, often acting as if it’s purely for his own benefit. “I can’t have people thinking I’m with someone so plain. Let them see what I see.”

Behind closed doors, Dottore lets his guard down. He kisses every inch of your body, murmuring soft reassurances against your skin.

“Every part of you is perfect. Don’t you see? You’re mine, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Dottore often surprises you with thoughtful gestures, like creating a custom chair for your comfort or designing shoes that fit perfectly. It’s his way of showing you that your body is not a limitation but something to be celebrated.

He’s fiercely protective of you, especially when it comes to your self-esteem. If he ever overhears someone making a cruel comment, they won’t dare to do so again after facing his wrath.

“You’d do well to mind your words. That’s my beloved you’re speaking of.”

Dottore loves teasing you about how irresistible he finds you. “If you keep looking that tempting, I might just have to cancel my experiments for the day.”

----------

One evening, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at yourself in the mirror. The dress you had on clung to your curves in a way that made your stomach churn with self-doubt. You tugged at the fabric, wishing it would just hide you better.

Dottore, ever observant he is, noticed immediately. He approached from behind, his hands settling on your shoulders as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You hesitated before murmuring, “I just.. I don’t look right in this. I wish I looked.. better..”

“Stop,” he interrupted, spinning you around to face him. His hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your face up so your eyes met his. “I won’t hear another word of this nonsense.”

“But--”

He silenced you with a kiss, slow and deliberate. When he pulled back, his gaze was piercing yet filled with something warmer than you expected.

“You are breathtaking,” he said, his gloved hands trailing down your arms. “Your softness, your warmth, the way you fit so perfectly against me.. Do you think I, of all people, would settle for anything less than perfection?”

Your cheeks flushed and he smirked, clearly satisfied with your reaction. He pulled you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “All of you. And I’ll remind you of that every day if I must.”

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, the weight of your insecurities felt just a little lighter.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #female reader #il dottore x reader

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potatoplace · 5 months ago

Text

Truthteller

Azriel x Reader

kinktober day 8 | knifeplay

kinktober '24 masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Your eyes have been drawn to a certain dagger at your mate's hip for weeks now. And maybe your thoughts, as well. What you hadn't expected was for your mate to notice your drifting attentions.

Warnings: knifeplay, cutting a your partner's name into your skin (do NOT do this irl unless you are VERY committed and trusting!!), light smut

Words: ~1.8k

Author's Note: well it's a couple of hours late but it's here! Some fun lil knifeplay Az, and it's a lil fluffy too imo. I like it. I hope you guys do too!

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

For weeks now, your eyes had been drawn to the daggers constantly at Azriel’s hip, lingering over them until Azriel felt your eyes on him, and you looked away with a blush on your cheeks.

Every night before bed when he would take off his knife belt, your eyes tracking his movements.

Tonight was no exception.

Azriel had been teasing you more than usual at family dinner earlier, letting his shadows play under the skirts of your dress. They had trailed up and down your legs, leaving a path of slight cold from your calves to your inner thighs. Az himself had also let his hand rest on your thigh throughout most of the meal, his fingers drumming an entrancing beat into your skin.

By the time the two of you said your goodbyes to his family and returned to your house, you were more than ready to find out why Az had been so insistent on driving you mad with his touch all night.

Azriel opened the door to your shared home, letting you pass through the doorway first before following you, shutting the door and turning the lock.

“Let’s go into the bedroom, hm, doll?” Azriel suggested in a low voice, a hand on your lower back already leading you past the living room and kitchen, through the hallway and into the master bedroom.

You loved when he was like this.

Confident, commanding. Taking control.

“Turn around and sit on the bed, doll,” Azriel told you as he turned to shut the bedroom door.

You did as he asked, settling down on the edge of your plush mating bed, the sapphire bedding rustling beneath you.

Azriel was facing you when you looked up again, and he crossed the distance between the two of you in slow, decisive steps, his wings flaring behind him.

And still, your eyes slipped from his face down to his favorite knife, Truthteller.

It was your favorite, too.

Probably not for any sane reason, but, well, you had never claimed to be fully in your right mind.

One of Az’s fingers lifted your chin so you were looking at his face once more.

“Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind, little mate?”

Your face flushed. You shook your head, his finger still holding your chin.

“Oh? Not going to share those pretty little thoughts with me?” Another slight shake of your head. “How about if I guess, hmm? I want to know what keeps distracting my pretty mate from me,” Azriel said possessively before leaning down to claim your mouth in a kiss.

If he guessed… You supposed that could be an… easier way to admit what you wanted.

“Okay,” you said softly. Azriel smiled down at you, hazel eyes so captivating that you couldn’t look away.

Until Truthteller was raised in front of your face a few seconds later, Az’s smile turning to a satisfied smirk at your widening eyes.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that my mate’s eyes had drifted from my cock to my dagger, doll?” He asked, twisting the dagger in his scarred hands. “I’d just like to hear you say why, Y/N.”

You bit your lip. If he had already guessed that you’d been fascinated by the dagger, then he had to know the reason why already… Which means that he wants you to say it.

He always had liked pushed you out of your comfort zone in the most pleasurable ways.

And this might prove to be the best one yet.

“I…” You started. “I want you to…” You buried your face in your hands, hiding yourself from his piercing hazel eyes.

Azriel kneeled before you, placing Truthteller on the bed next to you before taking your hands in his and gently prying them away from your face. “Keep going, love, you’re doing great,” he praised, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I want you to use Truthteller on me,” you whispered, finally admitting your most recent obsession. You met Azriel’s eyes, happy to see so much warmth and love within them.

“Such a good girl for me, little mate. How much do you like this dress?” He asked, running his fingers along the sleeve.

It was a beautiful dress, in a dark blue that was nearly black with long, flowing sleeves and a semi low cut neckline, showing off a decent amount of your cleavage.

But the trouble in Azriel’s eyes promised a night worth losing something as replaceable as a dress.

“Not too much,” you replied, biting your lip in anticipation when Az’s mouth curled into a predatory grin, and he grabbed Truthteller from beside you.

“Tell me if you ever need me to stop, doll,” Az said seriously, waiting until you nodded in agreement to move again, standing from his place kneeling on the floor. “Stand up.”

You did as he said, watching with butterflies in your stomach as Az circled you, the cool bite of metal just barely grazing your skin as he tore through the laces of your dress with ease. You breathing hitched when the tip of Truthteller pressed into your lower back just enough for the pinch of metal to register, before Az was circling back to your front.

He cut the dress from between your breasts to just above your pelvis, then pulled the dress off of your body. All you were left in now was your underthings, a pale cream set that had Azriel’s gaze lingering over you, even more appreciative of your body in the delicate lace.

Azriel pushed you back until your knees hit the bed, then tapped your shoulders. You laid down as he requested, your breath hitching when he followed you down.

The two of you shared a soft kiss, tongues dancing together before Az pulled away. He leaned on one arm as he brought the other up to the strap of your bra, using Truthteller to slice through it, repeating the action on the other side.

Then he slid the knife underneath the band of your bra, twisting it so it was resting vertically on your skin, letting the smooth edge of the knife press into your breastbone. You bit your lip as you stared up at him, your hips twitching, ready to chase your pleasure.

He felt it, of course, and rewarded you for your impatience by slicing the remaining fabric on your chest, pulling it away from your body and tossing it to the floor.

Next he moved to your hips, knife making quick work of your panties so that Azriel could pull them away, leaving you bare for his eyes to feast upon.

And his mouth, if he had any say in the matter.

You were glistening in the low light of the bedroom, worked up from the soft glide of Truthteller against your skin and your mate above you, watching you with heavy lidded eyes. You met his gaze, certain that you already looked wrecked from the small amount of stimulation.

“Still feeling good, doll?”

You nodded your head, giving your mate a small smile.

“Good. Now, do you want more of soft brushes of the blade,” he demonstrated, the light press of the blade tickling your skin and leaving a small red mark in its wake. “Or, do you want something more focused? Maybe even have me write something? It’s all up to you, doll.”

The teasing brush of Truthteller against your skin had you squirming beneath him, but you tried to focus, for Az.

“Uhm… both are… both are good,” you said slowly, teasing passes of Truthteller against your stomach distracting you. “I… I’ve thought about, uh, having your…” you hesitated. This was the big part that you were worried about. “Your name on me…”

Azriel’s mouth split into a grin, something you saw so rarely. “You want my name put into your skin, my sweet little mate? Hmm?” He hummed as he leaned in to kiss along the expanse of your neck.

“Mhm, please,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a reassuring kiss.

When your lips parted, Az was looking down at you with such fondness, such love in his eyes that you couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“Where do you want my name, doll?” Az asked softly into your ear as one of his hands drifted across your skin, waiting for you to choose the spot where he would gently carve his name into your flesh. It passed over your breasts, giving them each a soft squeeze before drifting lower, passing over your ribs, stomach, down to the curve of your hips-

“There,” you breathed as his hand passed over the skin of your lower stomach, just above your pelvic area.

“Right here, front and center doll?” You nodded your head vigorously in agreement, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch as Az grabbed Truthteller and readied the tip of the blade against your sensitive skin. “Let me know if it gets to be too much,” he said seriously, waiting for you to nod your understanding before moving the blade even a hair.

And when he did move…

The soft pinch of the knife against your skin, just barely cutting it open was perfection, the small amount of pain pairing wonderfully with the arousal thrumming through your veins.

Az’s careful, steady hands worked the blade into your skin as lightly as he could to get the effect that he knew you were desperate for, by now. Between letters he pressed his lips to the skin of your inner thighs, your hips, just barely skirting around your dripping cunt each time.

You were barely able to keep yourself still by the time he was finishing the last stroke, the ‘L’ in his name, but you managed, reveling in the look of pure approval in your mate’s eyes as he looked you over.

“Look at it, baby,” Az said, helping you sit up so you could inspect the imprint of his name.

And there it was. Delicately carved, with very little blood coming from them. More like deep scratches than true cuts, but the effect had your heart beating faster either way.

“It’s perfect, Thanh you Azzie,” you said softly, pulling his face to yours for a heated kiss. “I love it. And I love you.”

Az smiled at you. “I’m glad you like it, love. Now… were you wanting another treat?” He asked, his eyes darkening. You nodded your head. “Good. Go ahead and lie back, and just enjoy,” Az instructed, a hand on your back making sure that you lowered yourself down slowly.

You kept your hands by your sides, as much as you were dying to wrap them in your mate’s hair.

In the next moment, his mouth had descended upon you, his shadows joining the fun as well and wrapping around your breasts, giving them a squeeze.

You were in for a long night.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff

#truthteller #Azriel x reader #az x reader #Azriel x reader smut #Azriel #Azriel acotar #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #knifeplay #smut #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #kinktober 2024 #acotar kinktober #kinktober #kinktober '24 #tato writes

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starxanemone · 6 months ago

Text

꩜ⴰ ࣪˖ FROM DUST TO DUST

michael kaiser x gender neutral!reader

you liked to see him crumble—from dust to dust.

warnings ! mdni ! sexual content — sub! brat!kaiser, dom!reader, praise kink, cock sucking, handjob, teasing and denial. also slight character exploration based on his backstory.

note — as a femdom, i am a firm and avid fan of the idea of submissive kaiser. oliver aiku is my next target. also, sorry this took a while : ( i'm busy with uni.

From dust to dust; there is nothing more beautiful than to view the evolution of things. A being grows—all supple skin and flesh and fragile bones—from a mere zygote, born from the fusion of sperm and egg.

And you think that man goes through the same cycle again and again throughout their life. From learning how to stand on one’s feet to no longer being able to do so. From seeking to finding, then to seeking again. From exalted kings to abdicated ones. All from different facets of the humans of society; they go back to their roots, ultimately. From dust to dust.

Michael Kaiser is nothing more than a mere cog born to inevitably contribute and connect with society that is just like him. Yes, by the gods, he was birthed, chosen to be an emperor, and how ethereal he truly is as he devours and rules lowly humans that grovel underneath him. No mercy was shown to anyone that attempted to overthrow his position, and not a simple glimpse was spared for those who raved on about the ‘impossible.’

He was arrogant and his mouth never knew when to stop running. But he would get what he deserves. Just like all the kings and queens, and emperors and empresses that stood before his rule.

They all fall down.

From dust to dust.

“Now, now… quiet down, liebling.” You hum, pressing your right hand tightly over his swollen pink lips. You know he loves it when you call him that, especially with the way his hard-on presses against your knee. He thrashes a little underneath you with his cheeks, ears, and exposed neck all tinted in pinkish and red hues.

You like to think that he looks like a work of art when he is like this. Not when he is in his most glorious state, but when he looks human in their rawest form. All supple skin and flesh ( you’d like to paint with your lips ) and fragile bones ( you’d like to caress ).

You pull downwards, cat-like eyes gazing intently into his half-lidded ones as you hover your face over his sweatpants. You press your cheek right against it teasingly, smiling a little in amusement when he glares down at you.

“Kitty’s got bite, hm?” You chuckle, rubbing your cheek against his crotch, feeling his cock twitch underneath the fabric as you massage his hips with your fingers.

“S-Shut up, a-ah—”

He spits out his words, though you get the feeling that it’s not as angry as he would have liked it to sound, especially with the way he holds back his moan and breathes heavily towards the end.

“Oh,” You pout mockingly. “But you wouldn’t be in this position if you weren’t being such a slut earlier. Like, seriously, making out with me in front of everyone and leaving a hickey on my neck where everyone could see? All because you were jealous of sweet little Yoichi?”

“S-Stop,” He rasps out, bringing his hands down to cup your cheeks to lift it up from his clothed cock.

You can tell that he’s irked with the way you call his rival ‘sweet.’ Your smile softens and you pull yourself up to plant your chin against his chest.

“Why are you so envious, mein schatz?” You bring your hand up, thumbing against his pink bottom lip. You watch in fascination as you press on the soft skin, nail biting onto the flesh, leaving a small crescent in its wake.

His lips part and you grin lazily, slipping your finger into his mouth to touch the wet muscle. Your eyes don’t miss the way his tongue runs over the tip of your finger, brushing over your nail before his mouth closes around it entirely.

You bring your other palm up to cup the side of his cheek as you sit up on his abdomen again. His electro-blue irises and sharp ebony pupils swallow you entirely as he sucks and licks on your finger willingly.

Oh how you loved seeing him crumble like this. All of his wits and pride dispersed with a flick of your fingers. You who have given him the feeling of something new—something so incredibly yet not supposed to be foreign for any living human. An emotion that he could only utter as a wistful wish underneath the eyes of the constellations.

Love. So this is love.

You pull your finger back, chuckling a little as he lifts his head up to chase for the sensation between his lips again before dropping his head back down upon realizing his actions. His cheeks are flushed cherry red and his brows are furrowed as if his senses had come back, and you know that he is beating himself up over the constant lapses of weakness before the gaze of someone else. But you don’t care about that.

It was never a weakness to choose to open up oneself to somebody.

You cup his cheek, firmly this time.

“Why are you always so envious? Tell me.”

But he was a stubborn one.

He keeps his lips pressed firmly, glaring up at you in a disobeying manner. It doesn’t look very intimidating with his black cotton shirt half-way lifted up on his upper body, his hair scattered around his head like a makeshift blue pearlescent crown, and the cute little wet patch marking his grey sweatpants.

“Not talking, hm? Okay, then. Fine. We’ll do it your way.” You hum in amusement before you’re snaking back down onto his hips.

In a split second, you grasp the garter of his sweatpants and pull it down, wordlessly gazing at the way his curved cock slaps at the skin below his belly button.

He hisses, “W-What are you—”

“Shut up. Don’t talk.” You murmur before dipping your head down to lick at the pinkish tip. It was already oozing with precum, bubbling and dripping down against the length of his cock, tracing a vein.

“F-Fuck—” He groans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

You pull your lips away from his cock and strike your palm against his inner thigh, leaving a red mark though not enough to cause any significant pain.

Nevertheless, he hisses, eyes widening in shock. “Why did you—”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Your hands smooth over the spot you had just hit before traveling north once more. When your hands reach its destination, you blink when you hear a silent whine leave his mouth.

“Please…” You hear him mumble and your gaze flickers upwards, seeing his disheveled state. Eyes half lidded with his soft lashes pointing southwards, cheeks turning a shade darker than it was previously.

His hips twitch upwards and your gaze softens.

“Okay,” You breathe out. “Okay.”

You have to admit. You cave in way too fast.

You place your hands on the sides of his bare hips, squeezing as you lick your tongue flat across the length of his cock, stopping near the tip. You keep your eyes trained on him and his gaze on yours, brows furrowed over.

You brush your tongue repeatedly against the underside of his pink tip—now all shiny underneath the fluorescent lights of your shared apartment from the mixture of precum and your saliva. His hips twitch and you immediately hold it down, digging your fingers against his skin, leaving marks on the flesh.

“P-Please,” He groans quietly, eyes closing. “Give me more, liebling. Please.”

“Hm?” You hum, tongue toying with his tip. The little crevice is soft and smooth against your touch, now all sensitive. You press your tongue against the underside of it harder before taking just the tip inside your mouth. Your fingers trace against the veins protruding the length of his cock teasingly. “But you haven’t— haven’t answered my question yet.”

You suck on his tip lightly, just enough to have his stomach and shoulders twitching, and hips buck between your hold.

“I-I want you to look at me!” He groans, body twitching when you trace your tongue with more pressure against his length repeatedly, humming a little as you listen to him speak. “I w-want you to look at me only and not that worthless, pathetic man. H-He won’t serve you half as good as I do. He can’t. I want you to love me, and me only.”

You pull away momentarily, chuckling at his uncharacteristic honesty. He whines at the sudden loss of your touch.

“Oh but I already do.” You smile, pressing your lips against the side of his stomach. “I love you, and only you.”

He doesn’t respond, simply staring down at you with pink cheeks and furrowed brows.

He never says ‘I love you' back.

But you already knew how he was. He was never used to the straightforward affection and loving words directed at him, but that never bothered you. Being with him entailed having the ability to read between the lines—it entailed being able to appreciate the little crevices and permanent folds that marred his shirt and was never able to learn how to iron. You appreciated the marks left behind by the past and the past that brought about this present—this gift—him, and only him.

And that was alright with you.

You loved him. You had the ability to build him up, make him crumble, and build him up again.

From dust to dust.

But mere dusts of cement clumped together could form a stable foundation, the same way a cluster of atoms can make up a single cell, and how multiple similar cells can form tissue.

You loved him from dust to dust.

You lick a stripe up from the base of your palm up to your fingers, keeping your eyes trained on his and his to yours and what you were doing, before encircling your fingers around the length of his cock, pumping him up and down slowly. He jolts and heaves out a breathy moan each time your hand squeezes at the right areas, up towards his shiny pink tip leaking with his fluids and down once again. Your other hand plays with his balls and you grin at the way he throws his head back, eyes rolling up.

“You must be so tired, mein schatz, but it’s okay, you can come to me. I will always be here to make you feel better.” You mewl, smiling up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“A-Ah, fuck, don’t speak like that to me, I-I’m gonna cum—” He bucks his hips helplessly, whining.

“But why?” You giggle, tilting your head innocently, “Can’t I speak like that to the person I love?”

“S-Stop, haah—” He brings his hands up to cover half of his red face, blue eyes glaring down at yours, but you don’t falter.

“My poor baby,” You pout, pumping your hand against his cock upwards and brushing your thumb against his tip. You hear him choke a little. “You’re so beautiful and you work so hard! I’m so proud of you, hm?”

“H-Haah— I-I’m gonna, gonna cum!”

"Give it to me, my love."

His hips buck against your hand a few more times before he’s shooting spurts of his cum onto your face. He moans, eyes squeezing shut.

You shut your eyes, feeling the liquid spill all over your face for a few seconds.

After a while, you open your eyes to him breathing in and out deeply, his body laying limply on the bed with sweat thinly coating every inch of his skin.

You chuckle, wiping the cum off your face and bringing your hand up to taste it.

He raises his brow as you do so and scowls. “Don’t— don’t do that. That’s dirty.”

“And I happen to be a dirty person. I don't mind." You grin, licking your hand.

He’s silent for a while before he speaks up.

“But is it true?”

“What?” You question curiously, laying right beside him flat on your back. You turn your head to look into his eyes levelly.

“That you,” He purses his lips, voice growing more silent. “Love me?”

You smile, genuinely this time.

“Of course.”

From dust to dust.

#blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock oneshots #blue lock #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x y/n #kaiser smut #blue lock smut #sub!michael kaiser #sub!character #dom!reader

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