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cherry-leclerc · 7 months ago

Text

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?”

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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pellucid-constellations · 3 months ago

Text

Trial and Error (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Illness, angst babyyy <3

a/n: I'm going insane and crazy and every iteration of that. I love writing this fic so much I want it tattooed on my forehead. Thanks, love you all <3

Main Masterlist ♡

You were in and out of sleep for the next few days—much to your displeasure.

After attempting to down all the herbal remedies Azriel’s healer had left and continuing to care for your daughter without missing a beat, Azriel had made it clear that that would not fly. You told him several times to go home and not burden himself with caring for the two of you, but he was entirely too stubborn to listen to you.

You even watched as his shadows left and returned with messages for him, sure that his High Lord was calling him home.

But Azriel still stayed.

He made food, he served the food, and he fed Melanie, coaxing her delirious eyes open to make sure she took medicine at the right times. You weren’t completely incapacitated, but it didn’t matter; Azriel wouldn’t allow you to lift a finger.

He answered the door to the apothecary several times, sending away customers after collecting payments and restocking shelves, somehow privy to the knowledge of the store. You weren’t entirely confident that he wasn’t overcharging everyone or putting things in random places.

A few times, when sleep fought for the space in your mind, you felt fingers in your hair, along your face, across your shoulders. Each brush would send you deeper into the void you avoided so adamantly, and you were ignoring the fact that you had never felt safe enough to fall asleep in front of other people until now.

You caught Azriel holding Melanie on a few occasions.

You would crack an eye open after an unexpected bout of sleep and he’d be rocking her in his arms, bouncing her to sleep as she lay her flushed face on his shoulder.

Azriel had never told you if he had experience with children. Sure, he mentioned his closeness with Nyx and how much he loved his nephew, but that was… different from this. The ease with which he held Melanie, the instinct he seemed to have towards her—it felt different. Looked different.

You felt an unexplainable sense of safety as you watched them.

Melanie would pull back from his shoulder and arrange her fingers on the planes of Azriel’s cheeks and he would smile at her. And you felt safe.

You found more energy on the third day of the fever.

You got out of bed and took some semblance of a bath, fumbling around in the bathroom without much coordination. Your head was still fuzzy and an ache still permeated deep within your muscles, but the feeling was lessened.

It wasn’t until after your bath that you realized you hadn’t checked on Melanie the moment you woke up.

You hadn’t shot out of bed and raced to her room as you had done almost every morning since she was born.

You hadn’t feared that she was somehow taken from your home, from your arms—that she was in danger of being ripped from your grasp and sent back to Autumn to live out the same cruel fate you were destined for.

A small voice in the back of your mind offered a gentle whisper, reminding you that it was because of Azriel that you found that brief moment of peace.

You pushed it back.

With a shiver, you made your way down the narrow hallway to your daughter’s bedroom.

Empty.

You felt your heart rate tick up in a small bout of panic, but you were calmed by a fluttering in your chest just as quickly. The light pressure led you into the kitchen and then flushed into a warm bloom as the scene in front of you unfolded.

Melanie was bundled up in a blanket and sat atop the kitchen counter as Azriel whisked the contents of a bowl. She was talking her head off about something that happened at school and Azriel was nodding his head with each exasperated huff she let out. Another glance told you that Melanie had eaten an entire plate of food before you’d entered, a feat in itself as your daughter hardly ate to begin with—let alone when she was sick.

“Mommy!” Melanie cheered, wrapping her arms around your neck as you entered the quaint kitchen. “I thought you were gonna sleep forever. I wanted to wake you up but Mr. Azriel said you had to sleep to get better so he made me lunch.”

“Lunch, huh?” you smiled, gathering her into your arms and sliding her off the counter.

“Uh-huh. You slept through breakfast and lunch. Aren’t you hungry, mommy?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Well, you should have Mr. Azriel’s pancakes.” Melanie yawned. Her blinks became longer. “They’re so good, mommy. He should live with us and make them all the time.”

From the stove, you heard Azriel breathe out a laugh. You glanced at him through your lashes as you held Melanie in your arms, the broad expanse of his wings barely contained in the kitchen. The shirt he wore strained against his arms as he shifted a pan on the burner and he didn’t look back as the two of you spoke.

“I think I need a nap,” Melanie proclaimed, rubbing at her heavy eyes. “I thought I was a big girl at school now and didn’t need to take naps. You told me that, mommy.”

You tore your gaze from Azriel’s back and offered your daughter a soft smile. “Well, you need rest to get better, too. So it’s okay for you to take naps right now.”

“I don’t like having hot blood. This is so annoying.”

You jutted your head back at her statement and made to have her explain, but Melanie shimmied from your arms and scampered off to her room before you could make a sound, her blanket dragging behind her.

That left you alone with Azriel.

“Hot blood?” you asked, leaning against the counter and attempting to appear casual in your own home. It was still surreal that he was up here—making pancakes in your kitchen—when just a few days ago, you never would have let him get past the stairs.

Azriel hummed and flicked the burner off, leaning his back on a nearby counter to face you. “I think she heard what Madja said when she was explaining what was wrong with you both. Mel’s been calling it hot blood. I didn’t—I didn’t think it was my place to correct her.”

You pressed your lips into a line and rubbed your forearm in some attempt of comfort. “Right.” A long pause. Azriel didn’t press you to speak. You did anyway to fill the dead air. “You really didn’t have to stay for as long as you did. I know this place isn’t what you’re used to and it must have been a handful with Mel—”

“I wanted to stay,” Azriel interrupted. He stepped forward and placed a hand on your forehead, ignoring the tension you felt weighing on your shoulders. “You’re still warm.”

“I feel a lot better. Almost completely fine. It would be okay… if you had somewhere to go. If you had to leave, I mean.”

The hand on your forehead slid down to your chin and tilted your face up. Azriel’s gaze flickered between your eyes—back and forth with a furrowed brow as if trying to parse out a deeper meaning behind your words or solve a puzzle you hadn’t presented. His hand was hot against your chin in a way it wasn’t against your forehead.

“You should eat,” he settled on. He brushed your still-damp hair back from your face before turning on his heel. “Mel was right. I make great pancakes and you haven’t eaten in a while. Lucky for you she didn’t finish all of them. She was close, but there are a few left.”

You let him fuss, watched him as he rooted around the cupboards to pull out a plate and a glass, and tried to figure this out now that you were more coherent.

Azriel had stayed—for almost three days he had stayed at your apartment and cared for you and your daughter as if it was expected. Each time you had woken up he had been there, coaxing water and bone-dry broth into your mouth before helping you see Melanie and then helping you to fall back to sleep. He had held your daughter and made her pancakes and he was still here.

Could this somehow be nefarious? Some ploy to get close to you just to use you as a bargaining chip and send you back home? Had the High Lord demanded that his Spymaster keep a close eye on you and this was the outcome?

No.

No, that couldn’t be the reason Azriel was setting a plate down on the counter beside you. That couldn’t be why he caught your eye with a worried gaze and seemed to pinpoint your inner turmoil almost instantly.

But why?

His visits over the past few weeks had been welcomed—confusing at first, but a welcomed break from the mundane, anxiety-fueled life you lived. You had grown comfortable with him and Melanie had begun asking for him when she showed you her art projects or had questions about the walks of life. You had come to expect his presence in your store and found yourself looking forward to the chance to see him outside of Melanie’s school.

But what could he possibly have to gain from making himself a constant in your life?

You had asked before, a single question with a simple “Why not?” for a response that you had brushed off. Because it wasn’t too much of a big deal for him to stop by or help you lift the apothecary boxes or let Melanie talk his ear off.

But this was a big deal.

It was a big deal when he sat beside you until you fell asleep and it was a big deal that he was still standing here now, inches from you, eyes boring into yours.

“Why are you doing this, Azriel?”

Your question seemed to suck all of the air from the room. Azriel winced to such an infinitesimal degree you almost missed it. His fingers twitched as they rested on the counter. The plate of food sat forgotten, its intended distraction wasted.

“I’ve already said.”

You shook your head. “‘Why not’ was okay when you were stopping by the apothecary a few times a week and flirting with me for fun. It was okay when you were saving me from nosey teachers and opening doors when my hands were full. It was okay when this—” you jabbed your finger between your chest and his “—didn’t involve you in my apartment holding my daughter until she fell asleep. I need more than why not, Azriel. I need to understand if… if…”

“What?” he whispered so close the air between you warmed.

When had he gotten so close?

“I need to know if this isn’t safe. If there’s some other reason for all of this.”

This time, when Azriel winced, he flinched. His body seemed to stun and his face twisted into a frown etched with such an uncomfortable pain it was difficult to look at.

He spoke as his head shook. “I’ve told you this isn’t… I want you to feel safe with me. I thought I would have proved that was possible after this.”

“You have,” you were quick to reply. “I wouldn’t have been able to take care of Mel if you hadn’t been here. But, that’s the thing. I don’t even know how you knew to come here. You walked in asking if I was okay—asking where Melanie was. I know your shadows spy, but why, Azriel? Why take such an interest in me? In us?”

“Is it not enough to just want to know you?” he asked, his words tight and pained.

“No. For others, maybe. But not… not after everything I’ve been through. Not when everything I have could be ripped away. I need a reason, Azriel. I can’t let this happen without one. I can’t put Melanie in danger.”

“I don’t understand,” Azriel pleaded. He got closer, wrenching his head down to find your eyes. “Help me to understand. What danger are you in? I can explain, but I can’t protect you without knowing.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, tugging at your hair and regretting the action as a headache bloomed. You took a step back until your back met the kitchen wall.

“You can’t protect me, Azriel. You can’t.”

“I could if you—”

“It doesn’t make sense that you want to! You work for the High Lord. You spy for him! Do you have any idea what any of that means in the grand scheme of things? What it could mean if someone found out that the Night Court’s Spymaster was suddenly asking around about someone from Autumn?”

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, confusion marring his features, but you were breathing faster, the fever and the panic combining beneath your skin.

“I have stayed hidden for five years—five. I shouldn’t have sent Melanie to school. I shouldn’t have asked for help from anyone. If… if someone finds me—”

“No one will find you. Hey—hey.” Azriel invaded your space, your back against the wall and his hands against your face. His eyes softened as they caught yours. “No one is going to find you. You need a reason why I want to be here with you? Why I care about you and Mel?”

Your jaw quivered under his fingers. You nodded in place of speech, unable to find words that wouldn’t make tears fall down your cheeks.

Azriel stared back at you with so much torture and conflict in his eyes you almost wanted to take back the request. He took several breaths and seemed unsure of his next words. But he held your face in his hands with such surety, strong fingers unshaken.

The Shadowsinger brought you forward with the guide of his palms until his lips met your forehead.

And then he pulled back and said, “You are my mate. I want to keep you safe—to protect you and Melanie—because you are my mate. You are what I’ve been waiting for for hundreds of years and if you want nothing to do with me after this, that’s fine. But if you’ll have me, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

part 6

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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sometimesanalice · 5 months ago

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That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass. A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission. “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #rooster top gun

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months ago

Text

lightning strike | h. iwaizumi

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader, recently established relationship, mutual pining, pwp, dry humping + making out, nipple play, implied raw sex, super love-dovey, deliberate name change from iwaizumi to hajime 18+

✮ wc ; 4k (???????)

✮ a/n ; something deeply frightening happened to me in writing this but whatever. made it with ten minutes to spare happy bday mr iwaizumi

pls be nice if characterization is everywhere its been a while

He’s nervous.

So nervous.

You laugh at him over a can of beer, even harder when he visibly flinches at the sound. The room is too quiet since all of your company has left for the evening. Iwaizumi is tipsy but not drunk - though you think if he has another can he’ll get there just fine.

“Your face is gonna get stuck if you keep frowning.”

He shoots you a glare that makes your lips quirk up. “Shut up. You sound like my Ma.”

“How is she by the way? Still good?”

Iwaizumi snorts and takes a long sip of his beer. He tilts his head back against the couch, arm stretched along the seats. His muscles pull taut underneath the skintight material of his turtleneck. You find yourself sitting on your hands to calm down, but you’re too unfocused for it too work.

“She’s good. She likes the countryside. Been growing squash and tomatoes and everything. Gonna try and stay with her a bit during off-season,” His voice is wistful and affectionate. An only son, filial and polite - you smile at him lovingly. “You should come visit with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Guess it’s the same since we’ve already met but since we’re going steady I though you might be too nervous.”

The realization settles in too late. Just when you thought he’d swallow the nerves down, they make an appearance once again. He sits up straight, clearing his throat, diverting his gaze to the coffee table separating you both. A blush spreads up, all through his body. His ears turn especially turn some shade of cherry red. Dusts all along his nose. He tsks at you, tongue clicking with a familiar petulance. You bite back a laugh.

“Going steady? Seriously?”

“Well,” Your face twists in mischief as you look up at him, your eyes locking briefly. “You’d get all hissy if I called us lovers.”

His eyes go wide - in equal parts shock and mild disgust. You can’t hold the laugh back that time time no matter how hard you try. It bubbles up out of you, euphoric and hysterical. Your laughter is too loud to savor his displeasure, so caught up in it that it takes you a few minutes to calm down again,

“I hate you,” Iwaizumi mumbles. A grin splits your face.

“No, you don’t.”

He frowns and his blush darkens just a touch

The room goes quiet save for the sound of your heartbeat. You try and collect yourself. The house feels too quiet, all prior company absen. Not that Mattsun and Maki dragged out Oikawa to be considerate of your newfound love or anything. You’re sure you’ve already gotten a long text detailing your extortion related to the favor. Still, you’re glad to be alone with him.

It’s easy to split your time between all of them separately when you’re all in the same place - but complicated to be all together. And alone time with Iwaizumi has always been hard to come by.

You’ve been pining for him since highschool - the frequency you wish to see him tuned tuned by the passing years of your relationship and feelings. You’ve gone through the whole spectrum of desires. From wanting to see him everyday constantly, to hoping you’d never have to see him again. It took you well over a decade to make any progress, and the entire process (while surely heartfelt) has been unmistakably clumsy and so, so long.

Spending alone time with Iwaizumi has thus always been complicated except for this one time. You got together, officially, just last week. The day he came home, where you incidentally found yourselves alone together. Something that’d been rare years prior due to said pining and trying to get over him. You don’t even really know how it happened. It felt like the most significant moment in your life thus far and incomparably anticlimatic at once. He was just sending you home since you’d got completely shitfaced, and before you left you grabbed him by the collar and announced it. Just like that.

(You threw up half-way through the car ride back. Your Uber was nice enough to pull over so you didn’t do it in his car.)

You went home after and didn’t speak for days. It took a few more days for either of you to work up the courage to sort things out forreal, but you made it work with the help of even more alcohol.

Things get busy though, when Oikawa returns home and Hajime is off-season. It’s rare things line up, and when they do - it’s only natural you spend all your time together. You did today too, celebrating Iwaizumi’s birthday among the four of you with take-out and Godzilla movies on your nice flatscreen.

But you haven’t been alone with each other since your chat establishing your relationship as not a pipe-dream, which was notably through text.

He’s nervous, so incredibly nervous but so are you. Just a little.

You look up after being lost in thought - to see Iwaizumi stare at you. The air shifts slow and steady, thick tension stirring in your gut. You bite the inside of your cheek, rubbing your feet together as you fold over yourself, chin resting on your knee.

You wonder if you should be the one to break the distance. Iwaizumi beats you to the punch this time. You suppose you’re even.

“Come ‘ere.”

He pushes the coffee table farther away from him with ease, careful not to knock anything over. Your tipsy self swoons over his competence, but you’re sure you’d do the same sober.

The look he gives you as you crawl over to him makes you feel bashful. You go over until you’re sitting side by side - stretching your legs out. Your thighs barely touches. Iwaizumi jolts, swiping a hand over his face in exasperation.

“Sorry,”

You shake your head. “It’s okay.” Because it is, then just to make sure. “Are we okay?”

“More than okay,” He admits, a breath of relief following the words. “It was a good birthday, by the way. Thank you.”

“They’ll get upset that you only thanked me,”

He bristles immediately making you giggle. “I’ll thank those knuckleheads later.”

You smile at him, wide and bright. He looks at you before quickly looking away, laughing a little humorlessly to himself. You wonder what he’s thinking about but decide against asking, comfortable letting him go at whatever speed.

“Can I uh—“ He clears his throat. “Wanna kiss you. Just uhh… shit.”

You’d love to tease him, but you feel like your heart might explode out of your body so there’s not really much room. Nodding, you sit up on your knees and turn a little to face him. His features soften with remarkable fondness. You flush at the sudden attention. He sits up straighter, turning his head to face you. His forehead knocks against yours softly, noses brushes. His eyes are so sharp. You have to close your own when you feel him leaning in to kiss you.

Iwaizumi is warm. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be. His hands feel big as one snakes up to cup your neck. He gives you one deep kiss, followed by two pecks before pulling away to make you chase him. He rewards you by kissing you agai. The sudden pressure makes your head spin.

You pull away dazed. “You’re… super good at kissing.”

“Yeah?”

You press your thighs together at his reply. So sexy it’s unfair. “Uh-huh.”

He gives you a weighted hum.

His reaction spurs you on then. You pull away from him momentarily. Iwaizumi stares at you in reply, worry making his brow furrow. Before he can get the words out, you seat yourself on his lap. He’s taken aback as he realizes your intent, your arms around his neck. It’s not even really the alcohol, as much as it’s everything else. Cramped in your living room together, pressed up against your couch. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and shiver in his arms smelling his cologne. Spicy with a hint of pine. He hesitates, hands settling so carefully on your hips.

He lets you stay like that undisturbed until you’re ready to pull away. Like he senses you needed that. He’s always been so good at knowing what exactly you need. Suddenly restless you decide you need to look at him again - make sure he’s real. That this is real.

“Hey,” He mutters. His pitch is low, sends your heart hammering.

You giggle, fluttering nervously. “Hi,” And then, “You like me,”

“Pfft,” His voice is so tender, so soft, so comforting. “More than that.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by your own giddiness, you squeak. You want to bury yourself in his shoulder again, but he’s quick to hold your wrist and stop you. He pins you under his gaze. It’s so intense you can’t help but feel like a deer caught in headlights. Your head is empty and all he’s doing is looking at you.

But maybe that’s the whole problem. He’s looking at you, and you’ve wanted that for more than a decade. Now having it is too much, too suddenly - and you’re almost afraid of having it. It’s just a gaze, but it’s yours. He’s telling he’s yours in a way that’s just like him.

“You…” He starts on something before letting you go. “For a long time,”

He doesn’t need to explain. You already know.

“Me too,”

He calms down when you get it..

“Really?” He follows up. He doesn’t look at you as he goes on. “How long?”

You think on it.

“Since we were fifteen?”

“Same as me, then.” He’s clumsy with the follow-up. “That’s…”

“Dumb? Ridiculous? Too long?” You say, filling in the words for him. “I know.”

The extent of your own longing comes to you in waves. Love, like the sea trapped behind ice - so easily shattered. You’re drowning, your lungs aching trying to get adjusted to what is finally yours. The shock of it comes and goes, but you’re surrounded by it all the same. Iwaizumi stares at you and you stare back and nothing in the world exists except this desire you’ve kept to yourself for years.

His name comes out like a whimper on your lips. “Iwaizumi,”

“Hajime,” He corrects, so tender. So sweet to you. “Please,”

“Hajime,” You test the name out on your tongue. It’s sweet.

He doesn’t say anything after that.

Your breath hitches as Hajime crowds into your space again. His hands are firm on your hips as he kisses you again. It’s different from before, lingers longer - his tongue pressing along the seam of your lips until you open them and allow him in deeper.The taste of alcohol is clearer on your tongue, bitter remnants of malt making you drool at the corners of your mouth. You kiss hungrily, your hands carding through the short, black hair with a longing sigh. Hajime groans a little when you tug at the root and the only thing you can think to do is try to sink into him further. .

The hear raises without warning. Your skin under your clothes feels like it’s on fire. It feels different too suddenly for you to adjust and keep completely calm. Lust that borders cosmic engraves into your bones. Crumbling under the weight of it, you kiss Hajime like your life would end without it. In the moment, it feels like it would. Exchanged breaths are the only source of air for that space and time. You feel frantic, hazy - and Hajime who you know to be so steady, proves to be in the same place as you.

His hands are so big. You can feel how tight he grabs you, his thumb pressing into your hipbones - itching to go lower. You don’t want to pull away but you want more. In the second you take a breath you tell him as much. Your own delirium might bring you shame if you were in any place to really feel it. “You can touch me. However you want.”

“Fuck. Don’t say that.”

“Hajime, please.”

You mutter something but you don’t catch what it really. Your head is swimming with unrepentant ardor and your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth. Hajime kisses you again and takes the lead. The pleasure echoes in how you sigh, your hips rutting against his lap as his hands squeeze your ass. His hands are so fucking big - strong and kind and hold you with no uncertainty. The groping goes straight to your cunt, stomach starting to twist with familiar arousal. You push your hips against him again.

You’re hardly thinking about it. Hardly thinking at all - no coherency or sense thrumming through your brain except his name. Hajime, Hajime, Hajime. An incantation of destiny. A love song.

You feel his fingers inch up to go underneath your shirt - all of a sudden feeling burdened by all the layers between you. You can’t calm down.

He pulls away from you first in that instance. Before you can ask, he nudges himself close to your neck, kissing along your jaw. You feel the fabric of your shirt tug. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, then mimic him wanting him to do the same. His laugh is raspy in the follow through - your shirt and bra discarded somewhere on the floor. He stops suddenly, flicking his gaze up to you like he’s asking permission again. You just nod, not knowing how else to convey your desires.

Your nipples pebble in response to the arousal and cool air. Hajime’s tongue flicks from his lips.

His gaze makes you feel ticklish. He runs his palms over your tits with an appreciative noise. His eyes linger long enough to make your skin go hot all over, your spine prickling with heat.

“Staring,”

He looks up at your face, amused by your pout then kisses you as he feels you up, calloused palms brushing against your nipples, tits fitting perfectly in his hands. He smiles a little against your mouth. “Guess I am.”

“Take yours off,” You plea.

He obliges you, peeling the tight shirt away from his body and leaving his bare torso in full view. The proximity makes your lungs tighten like they can’t get enough air - heat radiating from his skin. His physique is toned, layers of muscle soft and comfortable He’s structured and gorgeous like a statue. You’re greeted by his broad chest and the corded muscles of his biceps. All sinew and strength, down his core. Strong and stable and big everywhere you could possibly look. You feel awestruck, mouth-watering at the sight - clit throbbing. Objectively attractive, you’re sure anyone in your place would feel the same. But this is your Hajime and the body he’s worked so hard on, full grown and yours. The trail of hairs down his stomach, getting coarse. The v-line of his waist makes you clench.

Too much.

The words tumble out of you before you can stop them, like water spilling from a broken dam. “I want you to fuck me so bad,”

His brows raise. You can feel something twitch hard against your clothed pussy. At full mast underneath the confines of his pants. \Your eyes go wet when you realize what it is. Mind sticky, you draw your lips into a pout and silent protest. Despite your desperation, you almost want to say it again, pleasure thrumming through your body at his reaction. It feels like electricity sparking up from the base of your spine all the way to the top of your head.

Hajime presses his face to your neck all over again - hot, open mouth kisses trailing from jaw to chest. You gasp when his mouth closes around your tits, tongue laving over the tender skin and making your back arch.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” He mirrors. His voice is scratchy and his grip is tight. “Been wanting to fuck you so bad for so long, you have no idea.”

There’s something true and well pathetic about the yearning that wells up inside of your gut and settles itself in your sternum. It spreads and grows and tangles in your ribs, curls around the vessels of your heartbeat. The kind of yearning that makes your whole being tremble, makes you want to preen and sing like a canary. It’d be good if time stood still so he could fuck you infintely - never being able to go where you can’t reach.

You rock against him and Hajime holds you steady like always. His voice drops down to murmur - speaking with alarming clarity. You’re teary from the sound of his voice.

“Let’s cum together,” He offers as reprieve, so sweet despite the harsh grip on your hips as he draws your weight down closer to him. You’re suddenly conscious of your choice in clothes - how thin the fabric of your shorts really as as the rough outline of his cock presses against the seam. You’re glad you didn’t wear underwear “And then I’ll make you cum again. I’ll take care of you,”

“You always take care of me,” You say with no awareness of your surroundings. He laughs breathlessly. ‘

“Yeah..since it’s you, it’s easy.”

You go wide-eyed but don’t get a minute to dissect. Not bothering to unbutton his jeans, you gape at the hard outline of his cock confined in black boxers. his He picks you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as your spine touches the carpet of your living room floor. You make a surprised noise as you’re let down gently. He doesn’t unfurl you from him. You spark back to life as his lips meet yours again chastely. The complaint you had dies on your lips when he trails down your jaw again. His voice is next to your ear, sinfully rough - warm breath tickling your skin. His teeth tug on your ear lobe and you shiver.

“Tell me if it’s too much,”

You don’t get a chance to ask about it.

The sudden motion of his hard cock rutting and humping against your sticky, wet cunt punches the air of out of your lungs.

There’s only a single layer of wet fabric keeping him from fucking you. The very idea makes your pussy throb unhelpfully. You understand all of a sudden that this was what he meant about wanting to make you cum. But it’s Hajime, your Hajime - so making you do any work wouldn’t cut it. Humping you in missionary of all things like he’s already inside you.

The thought overwhelms and you gasp.

You don’t recognize the sound of your own voice, so high and pitchy with need. Pure pornography. But there’s no camera for you perform for, nothing but Hajime above with with a heavy gaze. Your spine arches at the sensation once it hits its stride, the angle of friction just right. The indirect touches makes your core throb. Your clit has been achingly sensitive for so long, and the release of tension in a single thrust is enough to make you shudder each time. It feels like you’ve been holding the feeling in your entire life. You wheeze his name out brokenly as he does it again - a sharp thrust, precise enough to be perfect like he already knows you that well.

Your lower body feels week as the arousal starts to climb to a steady chorus. You pant for him like a bitch in heat.

He’s not inside you but the smack of his hips against yours makes you feel like you’re getting fucked anyways. You imagine how it’ll feel when he really fucks you and can’t see straight after the fact. Each little movement spreads precum along your shorts, already wet with your own arousal. The friction of the damp fabric makes you cry out from pleasure, animalistic with need. Your nails dig into his biceps as he kisses you all over, wherever he can possible reach. Along your neck, shoulders, collarbones chest. Any place he has accsess.

You want him so fucking deep it’s frustrating, want him up to your throat - but the lack of direct touch makes you want him more desperately. And it makes it feel so, so good. The kind of pleasure that’s dull and throbbing but makes something in your spine go alight, like shoving your thumb into a bruise. You want Hajime to press himself into you hard enough to make the healed dull yellows vibrant purple and red all over again.

You gasp helplessly each time he rocks his hips into you. He’s whispering such filth against your ear, into your mouth each time you kiss and you can’t reply with anything but his name. He praises you each time anyway, goads you into saying it again. Again and again and again until you can’t find your own voice.

“Say it again,” Hoarse, punctuated by another thrust that nearly drives you over the edge and makes your eyes go wide. “Say my name again, baby”

“Hajime.” So you say it- can’t think of any substitute since you’re not sure god would suffice. Locked between you in the warm sticky air is just Hajime, all yours.

Every muscle in your body starts to lock up as you hit the final stride to your orgasm. You want to cum so badly for him and only him. All over his cock in any way he’ll light you. The thought pushes you over the edge. Over and over and over until you hang over the precipice of your own orgasm. When it hits, it hits like a crash of thunder on open plain. Like suddenly everything in you that’s every been grounded in Earth is scattered with sparks, skating and careening across your body. You feel him in the fiber of your being. Your toes curl at the sudden release, not able to voice a warning that isn’t just a soft gargle in the back of your throat. He doesn’t stop or stutter in his motion, instead gripping your hips tight as he can while lets you run through your high - nothing but praise and affection.

You can feel him more than you can see him cum along with you. Sticky, hot seed flowing in spurts as his dick twitches for you - his ragged breathing covering your skin in goosebumps. You moan at the warm sensation drenching your poor, covered pussy and find the load to be wasted though you feel contented anyway.

You’re barely sane enough to catch your breath, but he eventually lets you down - though you can’t keep from hugging him. You pull back to look at each other.

You brush the sweat matted hair away from his forehead with a lovesick sigh and giggle. He looks down at you with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours with.

“Can’t believe I came in my pants like a teenager,” He says through a laugh.

“It’s like making up for lost time,” You say warmly, all floaty. “Plus, the way you were fucking me but not fucking me…definitely a man. It was really hot, you know?”

He groans. “I’ll get riled up again.”

You smile at him. “Let’s fuck lots for your birthday, Hajime.”

“Is that the present you mentioned earlier?”

You pretend to think on it. “Mm..no. Not just the sex, anyway.”

He looks at you confused as you lean in closer to him. “It’s safe so there’s no condoms anywhere in this apartment, unless you wanna go stop to get some.”

He gives you a blown out look of lust with a soft breath, voice bordering a growl. “As if I’d make it through the door now.”

You laugh helplessly happy and kiss him. “Happy birthday.” And then a little quieter. “I love you.”

He softens visibly but doesn’t say anything else. You don’t need to hear him to know.

You think the spare copy of your keys might make him cry. So you decide you’ll give it to him later.

The clock hasn’t hit midnight yet, anyhow. You have plenty of time.

Now and always.

#writing tag #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi smu #iwaizumi hajime x reader

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 7 days ago

Text

Hard Launching ∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summary: lando and y/n wanted to hard launch their relationship after dating secretly for a while. lando finds the perfect way to do so.

☘ ln x reader ✧˖*°࿐

☘ fluff + humour ✧˖*°࿐

masterlist ☾☼

lando and y/n had been discussing for a while about hard launching their relationship. they had managed to keep it out of the media for an entire season, but the media liked to paint lando as a villain, in more ways than one. not only were they attacking his skills on track, they began collecting pictures of lando with women, no matter how many years ago, and publishing them with articles about him being a womanizer.

the funniest ones were the pictures of lando and her sister out on some bonding time. reading those articles always made y/n laughed, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have them bookmarked in her browser for a pick me up when she was having a bad day.

at first, they had thought of doing a simple post with a cheesy caption. enough to let the fans knows that he was off the market again. but, it also felt kind of boring, and that was not lando or y/n’s style.

they discussed it for weeks, looking at different social media websites for inspiration, until it struck lando. scrolling through instagram, he’d found the perfect way to hard launch his relationship with his girlfriend.

when y/n asked him, he said, “you’ll just have to wait like the rest of the world, my love. but, i know you’re going to love it.”

y/n waited, just like he had told her to. she waited for two months, until one day, in the middle of her work, she received the instagram notification of lando posting and tagging her. this was the moment, y/n thought.

opening instagram, she found a reel, instead of a post or a story like she assumed. quickly, wearing her airpods, y/n clicked on the reel, increasing the volume in the background.

the reel opened with someone recording lando as he walked, head down and concentrated. the person recording said, “excuse me, what are you listening to right now?”

lando took out one of his airpods, and said, “my girlfriend yapping,” and then walked away.

the reel immediately cut to different instances of y/n talking and lando patiently listening. they were all sped up videos, and y/n watched her animated hands as she ranted, and lando listening, changing his position every so often. the music in the background was a lively, jaunty sound, and it fit so well with the reel.

there were a series of videos, from their home, from the paddock, from conference rooms where they were waiting for zak, or even from the gym where lando worked out, and y/n basically followed him, still talking his ear off. there were multiple videos of them on facetime as well, or screenshots of their hour - hour and half long conversations.

y/n laughed. it truly was the perfect way for lando to hard launch their relationship. it described them perfectly, if she did say so herself.

scrolling through the comments, she saw a lot of fans crying that he was a taken man now. she saw some saying things like, “this is the realest representation of a relationship.” there were some hate comments too, but they were stupid, so she ignored them.

she commented on the post as well, typing, “wait till i send you a 20 minute voice note on my lunch break” to which lando immediately responded with, “can’t wait, i got my airpods and my phone fully charged”

y/n laughed again, opening her text messaging app, and sending a quick “i love you this was perfect” to her boyfriend.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! it came to me while i was driving to college! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #formula one #ln4 #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln x reader #ln

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y2kuromi · 8 months ago

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⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei !

contents: tooth rotting fluff w a dash of angst! established relationship (married), second person & told from yuuji’s pov. extremely whipped satoru! petnames, suggestive dialogue

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

yuuji was initially ecstatic about the prospect of living with gojo-sensei. he’d imagined lazing around, gorging on sweets and watching cartoons on tv — maybe a few training sessions squeezed in with gojo-sensei — ideally it would’ve been just the two of them.

his fantasies came crashing down when realised gojo-sensei’s “house” was actually a “home”. the walls in the foyer were riddled with picture frames. he felt like he was intruding on gojo-sensei’s personal life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures on the walls.

there was a woman beside gojo-sensei in most of the pictures. she had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. a friend? or a girlfriend? — nah. according to fushiguro, gojo-sensei got zero play. though she had to mean something to him. it was evident in the way he looked at her.

his cerulean eyes entirely averted the camera lens, instead devoted to committing every inch of her to memory

“that’s my wife” gojo said softly,“she’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he laughed wryly as he stared lovingly at the smiling woman in the photo. yuuji nodded slowly, studying his teacher closely.

“is she okay with me hiding out here?” he asked tentatively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“ahhh about that” gojo says sheepishly, “i haven’t had the time to mention it to her so you’ll have to wait here while i talk to her” he ran a hand through his hair, snowy white tendrils curling around his fingers.

classic gojo-sensei.

“oh” yuuji chuckled, the situation was amusing to him. he couldn’t wait to tell fushiguro — the sour reminder that he couldn’t had his laughter dying in his throat.

gojo-sensei shrugged off his shoes and patted yuuji’s shoulder, “don’t worry she’ll say yes , i’ve got her wrapped around my finger”

yuuji waited patiently in the foyer, amber eyes flickering over the expensive decor and woodsy frames of gojo-sensei’s family. he could faintly make out traces of your conversation

"oh? you're home early for once" you smiled, leaning into your husband as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "what's the special occasion 'toru?"

"do i need a reason to want to see my beautiful wife?”

“nope” you hummed, “‘m just surprised to see you” not that you were complaining. satoru was a busy man and you cherished the rare moments you spent alone together

“how was your day sweets?” he asked, taking your hand in his, his thumb stroked over knuckles, soft, loving.

“same old” you shrugged, “we’ve got some big case coming up next week, so i was pretty busy today. had a tonne of paperwork and meetings too"

"my busy bee" he smiles, "i missed you s'much, i hate going on these stupid business trips"

"you'd like them more if i came with you" you said teasingly, poking his rib with your free hand "i ran into kento the other day, you sure i shouldn't come back to jujutsu sorcery too?"

"nuh uh" he shook his head firmly, "stay at your law firm pretty, 'm gonna need someone to defend me when i kill all the higher ups"

"what have they done now?" you sigh exasperatedly, turning the knob on the gas cooker and reducing the heat. the faint clicking sound echoes in the kitchen as the orange-blue flames simmered quietly.

"what haven't they done" he grumbled, leaning against the counter. he gently tugged at his blindfold, lithe fingers unveiling the cerulean eyes that you loved so much. his snowy hair fell softly around his face, a curtain that failed to hide the anger he felt coursing through his veins.

"poor baby" you cooed, hands trailing up to his face and cupping his cheeks, your fingers smoothed over the frown etched on his face, pushing his lips together in a duck-lipped pout, "wanna tell me about it?"

"y'know yuuji? the new first year that's sukuna's vessel?"

you nod, allowing your hands to fall from his face and rest on the counter. his greedy hands make their way to your waist, rubbing circles on the soft flesh peeking out beneath your untucked dress shirt.

"well they sent the first years on a mission to rescue people from the detention center, after sending me on that stupid mission overseas mind you, and the kid had to fight a special grade curse"

"is he okay?" you ask, hands ghosting over satoru's bigger, veiny ones. he sighs, a look of mild irritation fleeting over his face at the memory. in retrospect, none of that mattered now. he was home.

"yeah he's fine" he shrugs, "sukuna ripped his heart out and he died, but he revived him eventually"

"your definition of fine is questionable satoru" you snicker, and he feels his heart melting at the sound of your laughter. "why'd they send them on that mission anyways?"

"they just want yuuji dead, he was supposed to be executed remember? and they're really scared of sukuna which is crazy 'cause he's kinda weak"

"someone needs to humble you" you say, amusement dripping from your words like honey, "pride comes before fall 'toru"

"you humble me all the time sweets" he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"i'm just doing the universe a favour" you tease, "what do you want for dinner? rice? noodles? or we could order food from that thai joint you like if you want”

"i'll eat anything you cook sweets,” he murmurs, “though i have something else i wouldn’t mind eating”

“satoru” you gasped, “you just got home and you’re already trying to get between my legs” you smack his shoulder playfully

“i’ve missed her too” he shrugs, “i’ve missed all of you”

you shook your head, “can’t believe i married such a feen” a languid smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you could try all you wanted to resist his charms, but he’d always win in the end

"so...about yuuji" satoru starts, testing the waters, "the higher ups really want him gone, i can't keep him at jujutsu tech right now"

"i can see why you wouldn't" you hum, leaning on the tips of your toes to reach for the salt. satoru had a habit of placing the things you needed in places you couldn't reach just so he could have the honour of retrieving them for you

“need help with that sweets?” he asks eagerly, pushing himself off the counter and sifting through the wooden shelves. he easily brings the jar of salt down and hands it to you

"you have to stop doing this, it’s such an inconvenience" you sighed, but you were grateful nonetheless.“you’re insufferable i swear”

“‘m still yours” he says suavely. satoru’s smile is unwavering though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you can tell the thing with yuuji is weighing heavily on his mind. he’s more restless than usual. his lithe fingers run up and down the counter as he stares into space

“‘toru?” you prompt, nudging him with your elbow, “i can hear you thinking”

“i don’t know where to keep him” he exhales, “i would ask shoko, or kento but then i’d risk getting them in trouble with the higher ups”

“what about the secret room we found in our third year?” you asked, “you could keep him there, unless they found out about it”

“i would keep him there.. but i just...don't want him to feel alone," he says softly. you didn’t think it was possible to fall even deeper in love with satoru, but he never failed to surprise you. “he's just a kid, so i— i want to look out for him.”

he knows it’s a big ask. you can hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out how to possibly convince you to let sukuna’s vessel stay in your home.

"can he stay?" he pleads, "can yuuji stay with us please? it’s only until the kyoto goodwill event" he's clasping his hands together, imploring you with his infinitely blue eyes. you raise an eyebrow. knowing satoru, yuuji was probably waiting around in the foyer

"he's already here isn't he?" you ask, shaking your head fondly as a guilty look flickers across his face. classic satoru. although you would've loved for him to give you a heads up, you didn't mind a bit. it would be nice to have some company when satoru went on his missions

“i didn’t really have time to plan all the details before bringing him with me” he says, sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck, his fingers brushed against the soft strands of his undercut, "are you mad? don't be mad baby"

"no" you laugh, "i'm not mad 'toru, he can stay"

it’s the little things like this that make you realise just how much power you have over him. within seconds your husband is whirling you around, hands gripping your waist tightly and pressing chaste kisses on your face as he sets you down

"yuuji she said you can stay" a wide grin blooms across his face as he bounds into the foyer excitedly. the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, reduced to the faint resemblance of a child getting their first sleepover approved

you set the jar of salt down on the marbled counter. trailing after your husband. true to your suspicions, yuuji itadori had been standing awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together in his hoodie pockets and silently taking in the intricacies of your home.

he couldn’t help but feel out of place.

there were pairs of everything — shoes neatly arranged on the coat rack. umbrellas tucked in a corner in the foyer. coats hung up next to each other on the wall.

the pale blue wallpaper hung row after row of framed photographs. their wooden mahogany panels reflected the warm lights. yuuji’s light brown eyes flickered on the pictures in all their glory and glossy sheen.

the ones that caught his eye captured a young fushiguro’s trademark scowl, the irritated quirk of his brow and the curled spikes of his hair that defied gravity.

he was standing beside a girl who looked just like him, except she was slightly taller with long bone-straight brown hair. yuuji’s eyes lingered on her smile as your beanstalk of a husband shook him excitedly

he wondered what fushiguro would say if he knew he’d seen pictures of him as a little kid. ( he’d probably summon his shikigami on him )

“really?” he beamed, eyes momentarily drawn away from the plethora of frames. you feel your heart melt into a sickly sweet puddle of happiness and warmth, as you watch satoru drape his arm over yuuji’s shoulder

“yes really” you laugh, “it’s nice to finally meet you yuuji, you’re a friend of megumi’s right?”

yuuji nods frantically, his mop of pink curls bouncing enthusiastically . his mannerisms were nervous and eager. he wanted to fit in. he wanted you to like him. you could tell — he reminded you oddly of your husband ( they were practically the same person in different fonts )

“speaking of megumi, he doesn’t know yuuji’s alive so please don’t let it slip when he calls you” satoru murmurs, taking slow steps towards you.

he knows he’s asking for too much now. you practically raised megumi and it would be nearly impossible for you to keep something like this from him. satoru can see the cogs spinning in your head, the subtle anger in your heart and for the first time in years he’s afraid.

“we’ll talk about this later” you say through gritted teeth. he pleads silently with his eyes and you swallow your protests, you exhale loudly before turning towards yuuji again “c’mon yuuji, i’ve just started on dinner”

yuuji kicks off his shoes and nudges them neatly beneath the shoe rack before padding after you. satoru isn’t far behind

“it smells really good mrs. gojo” yuuji says politely, as he takes a seat by the kitchen island, legs dangling as he drums on the smooth marbled counter.

“thank you yuuji” you beamed, “do you prefer rice or noodles?”

“ahh i’m not really picky” he says, “i like all kinds of food really, but i suppose rice? if it isn’t too much of a hassle, i really don’t want to be a bother-”

“slow down yuuji” you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “i’m really glad to have you here, it gets kinda lonely when ‘toru’s away on business trips so make yourself at home okay?”

no wonder gojo-sensei was always happy, his wife was an angel. yuuji thought as he nodded fervently

“i can make the rice baby” satoru offers, his hands make their way around your waist, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch. you’re mad at him, and he knows you have every right to be

“thank you” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could muster, “come with me yuuji, i’ll show you around”

yuuji was positive he was intruding now, standing in the middle of megumi’s room while you stripped navy blue pinstripe sheets off his bed and replaced them with canary dressings.

“are you sure i can sleep here?” he asks, “ i don’t mind taking the couch..”

you seemed horrified at the idea of yuuji sleeping alone on the couch. he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him here. he was so used to being unwanted

growing up with his grandpa was something he wouldn’t trade for the world, yet he’d always craved the warmth of a mother. a mother’s love was the purest, and there was nothing more blameless than the softness in your (e/c) eyes when you looked at him

“i mind yuuji” you frowned” and i want you to stay in gumi’s room, his clothes should fit you since you’re around the same height”

“thank you again for letting me crash here” yuuji didn’t think he could say it enough. he didn’t deserve such kindness, not when the king of curses lived rent free in his head

“don’t mention it yuuji” you said, “i meant what i said downstairs, i could really use the company”

you ruffled his hair softly before resuming your ministrations of making the bed. you tucked crisp sheets beneath the mattress and fluffed up pillows with ease.

“you’re a really good mom, why don’t you and gojo-sensei have any kids of your own?” yuuji only realises the question is slightly insensitive after the words hang in the air and an unreadable look fleets across your face, “i’m so sorry that was really rude of me-”

“you’re good yuuji” you laugh, you sit down on the freshly laid duvet and pat the space beside you. yuuji hesitates but he sits down eventually

“it just never happened y’know? we adopted tsu and gumi a few years back, plus toru’s always seen his students as his kids, he cares about you guys a lot”

“even me?” it doesn’t seem plausible to him. all he’s seemed to do is cause problems for gojo-sensei ever since he ate that gross finger

“especially you yuuji” you smiled, ruffling his hair, “you remind me of him funny enough, even though i used to hate him back in our school days”

“really?” he gawked, he was practically falling over megumi’s bed with anticipation.

“really” you affirmed , “he was a real piece of work back then, i bet he’s the reason yaga has so many grey hairs”

“how’d you fall in love with him then?” yuuji enquires, brown eyes sparkling with immense curiosity “and how’d you meet?”

“are you guys gossiping about me?” satoru gasps, peeking around the doorway, “how mean of you yuuji, i thought we were friends”

“ahhh we weren’t gossiping per-say, mrs. gojo was about to tell me how you met”

“can i tell him?” satoru’s eyes sparkle, “the way i remember it i walked into the common room and cherry blossoms started falling, classical piano was playing softly in the background and-”

“that didn’t happen” you said, “he’s finally going senile” you tried and failed to push satoru out the doorway but he stood his ground.

he stood almost toe to toe with you, a pleased grin blooming on his face as he towered over you. yuuji’s eye’s flickered between you and your husband, cheeks dusted a rosy pink as he stifled giggles

“it did happen!” satoru insisted, “i’m sure shoko has a recording of it somewhere, now as i was saying.. she took one look at me and fell head over heels in love”

“you’re deluded” you muttered, “i didn’t love you until our second year, get your facts right”

“so you did fall head over heels in love with me” he grinned, “so early too? i knew you couldn’t resist my charms — owww!”

satoru feigns as you finally manage to shove him out the door after hitting his shoulder. by now, yuuji is a spluttering mess on the soft tatami mats lining megumi’s floor

“i’ll tell you what really happened one of these days” you said over your shoulder, “you can shower and settle in, take as long as you need, we’ll wait for you to come downstairs before we start eating”

your smile falls the moment the door clicks shut behind you. satoru feels his heart shattering. he’s so sure he’s going to die because his wife is mad at him. the universe might as well combust into nothing but ashes

“baby-” satoru starts, catching your wrist in his palm. he grips the bone loosely, careful not to hurt you “‘m sorry, you know that, but megumi can’t know”

you trudge down the stairs in silence, opting only to speak when you’re seated beside satoru in the living room. your cat natsu watches you wearily from her cat post, slanted eyes shooting satoru a well meaning glare.

“you can’t ask me to keep this from him” you said, shaking your head, eyes looking everywhere but your husband’s piercing blue gaze. “you’re taking things too far now”

“i know” his voice is a mere whisper, the words barely speak themself into existence, “i’m being selfish again, but you’ve gotta understand (y/n)”

“i can’t” you splutter, you feel tears treading your waterline “put yourself in his shoes, c’mon satoru we’ve seen him at his worst, why would we do something that could hurt him?”

“i’m not doing this to hurt megumi, i’m doing this to protect yuuji”

“just think about it please” you frowned, “if instead of executing suguru they kept him alive and let us think he was dead, you’d never forgive them”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice catches over the three syllables. he doesn’t miss the way your fingers tremble against his forearm. he hates this — arguing with you, he could think of infinite things he’d rather do than this.

“that’s different” his voice is wavering now, “suguru made his choice, yuuji didn’t ask for any of this” he winces as the words fall from his lips. to think he’d stooped to speaking ill of the dead. he doesn’t believe that, not really.

“you still wouldn’t forgive them” you prompted, “and i don’t want ‘gumi to go through any more, tsumiki being in a coma is hard enough as it is”

“i know baby, i know” satoru says softly, he cups your trembling face in his hands and places the sweetest of kisses on the tears that threaten to stream down your cheeks, “trust me on this okay? he’ll be fine i promise”

“okay” you nod, letting your husband, your one and only, wipe away the tears spilling over your lashes.

satoru could really kill the higher ups for putting him in this position. one where he nearly sacrificed his wife’s happiness for something as insignificant as jujutsu sorcery. with his lips still pressed to the corners of yours, he makes a silent vow with himself

it would be you before everything. it was you before everything

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip “you. are. everything. to. me” he punctuates each word with a kiss. his lips committing every inch of you to memory

they ghost over your cheek, your quivering lip, your shoulder, your wrist, and finally the silver wedding band encasing your ring finger. and they linger on the cool silver for what seems to be eternity before satoru speaks up again

“dance with me?” he prompts, although he’s not really asking. he’s already whisking you onto your feet and starting up the record player. the vinyl spins on its axis, as constant as his infinite love for you.

“what?” you sniffed slightly, “like we did in our first year?”

“like we did in our first year”

satoru’s hands were on your hip, drawing you closer, he felt your chest brush against his for a second as he leaned into you. you swayed gently side to side, keeping in time with the intricate melodies streaming from the gramophone

his six eyes tell him his student is watching, listening. curious doe eyes peeking from the stairwell. he doesn’t mind. satoru had never been one to hide his affection. you were his. and he was infinitely yours.

“can i tell you a secret?” satoru murmurs, as he twirls you back into his arms. he wishes he could stay like this forever. with you. he’d selfishly sacrifice the universe to keep having moments like this. he would kill for you. he’s positive he would. he’d do it without hesitation.

“i thought we didn’t have any of those” you quipped. satoru feels his heart melting. watching the sadness in your eyes fade into utter bliss was like watching the sun come out after a rainy day. maybe even better.

“it’s a good one i promise” he grins, you raise a brow sceptically but you’re listening “i was the one who fell head over heels in love with you. way back in our first year…and i didn’t even know what love was, i was so confused”

“when did you know?” you asked, “you always say you knew the moment you saw me, but you were an asshole then”

“it was the first time we snuck out together” he admits, “when we went to that night market. you were right, i was jealous of suguru but could you blame me? i wanted you all to myself”

“you’ve always been so greedy” you giggled. satoru doesn’t need the six eyes to see that you love him regardless. it’s evident in the tenderness of your tone and the way your (e/c) sparkle when you look at him

“cut me some slack baby” he groans “i’m trying to be romantic”

“you don’t need to try, i heard through the grapevine i can’t resist your charms” you hummed

satoru cracks a smile at the inside joke, a slow symphony of contentment.he kisses you again and it’s sweet and full of blind adoration. loving you is his religion. the only thing he’s wholly committed to. your hands looped around his neck, carefully avoiding the ever-so-sensitive scar that ran beneath his chin

your hands founds repose in the soft strands of his hair, carefully threading through the ivory curls. satoru could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

yuuji peered at the scene with stars in his eyes. he knew he should look away. that this moment was sacred, strictly for the two of you. but he’d never seen gojo like this before — completely vulnerable, completely himself in the confines of your embrace.

here he wasn’t the strongest, the richest, the one-man clan, the one whose mere existence shifted the balance of the world. here, he wasn't satoru gojo, he wasn't gojo-sensei, he was just 'toru.

#𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #❛ 五条悟 ❜#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #⭑ : js ‘toru gave me js george vibes #i love gojo too much pls sedate me <3

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tsukimefuku · 6 months ago

Text

voice kink: the reckoning (or so you thought) ♪ nanami kento

This is the continuation drabble to that because this teasy man occupied my every waking moment, it’s not even funny. Have my horny once again.

You thought you had the upper hand when Nanami got back home at night after relentlessly teasing you in the morning. You had confessed finding his voice sexy and oh did he leave you completely pent up after whispering dirty talk inches away from your ears and leaving for the day.

Needless to say, you body slammed him onto the mattress the minute he stepped inside the apartment, thinking you had surprised him.

However, the only upper hand you had was both of your hands pinned above your head as he pounded you on the bed relentlessly and whispered obscenities in your ear.

“Were you needy like this... ah... all day long? Horny for... ah... this? To have me fucking you... like this?” His warm breath tickled all around your cheek and earlobe, and it just added another layer of sensations sending shivers down your entire body.

His low, usually well collected voice was now breathier, raspier and slightly stuttered in between his own moans.

Your brain had turned to complete mush by this point, and that very familiar pooling heat began concentrating in your body, the lewd sounds of his cock slapping in and out of your folds filling the room along with your whimpers.

“Y-yes... Kento I-I’m... I’m gonna... kiss me-“ you begged, wanting nothing more than his tongue — by this point completely glazed with your taste after he made sure he had his dinner before giving you what you were begging for — thrust into your mouth.

“No... how would you hear me if- ah... I’m kissing you...?” This time, his tone was a little more playful, but just as intense and truthful.

Oh no. No no no. Ohhhhh he did not.

He was very serious about it.

The teasing demon had not only not left his body, it was actually trying to kill you. You were sure of it.

The heat in your belly was unsteady, wavering, and you were nothing short of desperate for it to burst — something especially hard to do when your man would deny you that warm, sloppy wet kiss he’d always give you to tip you off the edge.

“K-kento... please please oh- I’m begging I’m ahhh- please, p-please, God... I’ll die... don’t, I’m... fuck, pleas-” you weren’t even making sense anymore. All that came out of your mouth were senseless begging pleas through whimpers and pathetic moans.

He chuckled.

That relentless little devil chuckled.

“Die? Ah... don’t be so dramatic-“ he huffed, honeyed tone gnawing at your frustration by the second, “cum and I’ll kiss you”

He’s trying to kill me.

“I c-can’t... I just... please, please please- I can’t Kento I can’t without-”

You sounded pitiful.

“Come on... be a... good girl for me, love...” Nanami answered, husky voice brushing over your skin before he planted a warm kiss on your cheek.

To help you out, Nanami drew one of his hands down and began circling his thumb over your throbbing, desperate clit.

It took less than five seconds to have all of your pent up frustration and desire completely bursting at the seams. Your entire body jolted and convulsed as you came with a strained cry, blabbering away his name and your own desperation, your cunt tightening with ungodly strength around his cock.

“Good girl,” he cooed, before sliding his tongue wetly over your cheek and thrusting it inside your open mouth, giving you the taste you had been begging for those past few minutes.

His hip thrusts became erratic, his moans broke into your breath, and he, too, reached his peak.

You felt his thick, white cum blossoming warm inside you, and for a second, you felt like you had a tiny second orgasm just from it.

Letting go of your pinned hands, Nanami held your waist and parted his lips from yours.

“Is this what you wanted when you attacked me by the door?” Nanami asked with a sly smile to his face, panting as he locked his gaze to yours under his completely messy, disheveled hair.

“Shut up, Kento. Just shut up.”

He let out a soft chuckle before pressing his lips on yours again.

Little devil.

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

Note

Batboys with reader who has a silly collection of stickers and puts them over their faces, their suits or their weapons (most of them with silly encouraging phrases to cheer them up lol)

Dick

He bought you a set of stickers once and ever since it’s been his ultimate downfall but in the most humorous way possible.

Dick has a sense of humour, he didn’t mind a couple of stickers here and there, even going so far as to keep the cute cartoon mushroom stickers that you’ve left on his escrema sticks as your personal touch on his belongings.

He even once woke up to a face full of them and when he asked your reasoning as to why, you only shrugged your shoulders and said ‘I thought it’d be funny to see how many stickers I can put on your face without waking you up.’

Dick takes the whole thing in stride and in good faith and loves the fact that you went out of your way to cheer him up through your cute but inspirational stickers. It was almost as though you knew that he needed a little pick me up that day and did so tenfold by coating his hands in stickers that reminded him of your deep care for him and his mental health.

So nowadays Dick doesn’t mind waking up just to see his face covered in stickers and instead smiles and goes about his daily routine as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jason removed his red helmet from his hand and could only stare at the stickers that littered across the sides and back either a blank stare as Roy practically pissed himself with laughter.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, how did I not see this?’ Jason muttered under his breath, scratching at sticker of a cartoon Robin holding a stick in its beak.

‘Oh there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a little self expression Jason,’ Roy snickered, ‘but I didn’t peg you as the type to collect stickers and cute ones at that.’ He then points to a particular sticker on his helmet of a cat hanging from a branch followed by the saying; just hang in there.

‘piss off.’ Jason told him. He knew something was a miss but didn’t know what it was and now that he knew, everything was starting to make a bit more sense. For starters you didn’t kiss his helmet like you usually did before he left of patrol, almost as though you didn’t want to ruin something on his helmet that he didn’t see, at least not at that point in time.

He should’ve known because you’ve pulled this stint with his guns before in the past but what you didn’t know was that he kept a few that were now a little worn and faded. So while he appear a little peeved that you have took it upon yourself to decorate his helmet, he was a sentimental guy deep down who loved anything and everything you’ve given him and treasures it with his entire heart.

Jason’s a secret sap when it comes to you and knows that he’ll come to laugh at all this at a later date as he recalls all of it to you when he comes home, already envisioning your reaction when he’d inevitably calls you out on it, knowing that he could never stay mad at you for very long. He physically couldn’t and refuses to when all you were trying to do was lift his spirits.

You were too sweet for him but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Damian

Wants you to take them off at first, how was he meant to be taken seriously if he was covered head to toe in stickers, ridiculous.

He thinks them childish unfortunately

However when you do stop putting your stickers across every one of his belongings for a brief stint, he begins to realise the true intended purpose behind them, and would begin to leave subtle hints that he wanted you to go back to coating everything he owned in stickers in his own way of apologising.

He’s stubborn but he cares for you and what you meant to him and if planting stickers on the sheath of his sword on the premise to uplift his spirits, then who was he to stop you from doing so. He wasn’t use to someone going out of their way to try and cheer him up and was more use to isolating himself from everyone in his room and just draw out his innermost feelings.

So you covering his face, suit and or weapons with stickers with cute and uplifting words was something he needed time to get use to, but once he does he tries to keep the stickers that had long served their purpose within the pages of his sketch pad as a keepsake of your thoughtfulness towards him.

This portion of his sketch pad is kept under a lot of secrecy on his part but you find it eventually because of course you do.

Damian wasn’t use to someone caring about him as much as you did and in a more unique way than littering the hilt of his sword in stickers made to make his day just that a little better. Damian, much like Jason, keeps a sticker or two on his weapons but in places where it would be harder for others to spot and would run his thumb over it whenever he felt that he needed your presence.

Tim doesn’t mind you putting stickers on his stuff, he’s pretty much unbothered by it and would just accept the fact that this was your way of saying that you’re thinking of him and his well-being. Tim knew you well enough to understand what you were trying to say through your stickers from the stickers you used consistently.

However due to his egregious sleep schedule lead to many instances where he would wake up to his face covered entirely in stickers, and at first he thought it was the lack of sleep that was making him see things but soon realised that his face was indeed covered in stickers, and would silently stare at you through the mirror as you tried hard not to laugh.

He threatens to plaster your face with stickers next time, he does follow up on his promise but that’s a story for another time.

To Tim it was almost as if you had just made up an entirely new way of communication through stickers, he’s even got them categorised based on their subliminal messages and what you were trying to tell him through them.

He appreciates the stickers and would even find himself smiling at them on the odd occasion and run his fingers over them gingerly as to not accidentally peel one of them off. He loved your unique way of cheering him up and would get a little sad when he sees that someone them were starting to fade or become worn, only to feel a warmth spread throughout his chest when he saw new stickers next to the places of the old ones.

Each and every sticker had it’s sentimental significance to him and if Tim were to ever find out that you didn’t have anymore stickers to spare, he would buy you more sets and act like he didn’t have any part in this despite the parcel having his name on it.

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fettuccin-e · 1 year ago

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Something Bad

Kinktober Day 20: Corruption

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, blowjob, face-fucking (do NOT look at me rn), corruption, slightly innocent!reader, age gap mention, Joel is simply not prepared for how filthy his girl is (w/c: 1.4K)

A/N: I believe in filthy old man Joel and younger even filthier girl okay!!! This may have gotten a little out of hand but idk I can't help but ramble about sucking Joel's dick alright?? (I have been using these prompts by flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

Joel Miller is a bad man. A bad fuckin’ man.

He knows it, has known it for years. He has too much blood on his hands, too many skeletons in his closet, to be a good man.

But fuck, this has got to be the worst.

You’re supposed to be off-limits, the pretty little nurse that floats around Jackson, tending to the sick and injured. You, the sweet little thing who's never seen the outside of the town walls, who wears pretty dresses you make yourself and brings fucking baked goods to the patrol groups after they get back.

You, who asks him how he’s been, who traces a gentle hand down his forearm, sending goosebumps across his body. You, thirty fuckin’ years younger than him, and so angelic you practically glow.

You, on your knees on his kitchen floor, sucking his dick like you’re fucking starving for it.

You’d started off so delicate, so innocent, when he’d started this... thing with you. This dirty, nasty secret he has to keep from his own brother, from the entire town.

It had started with a gentle kiss when you’d patched him up after a patrol gone wrong. You’d fashioned a bandage over his chest, and God, when you looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes, he was a fuckin’ goner. He wasn’t sure who moved first, you or him, all he had known was that your lips against his were soft. So soft, softer than anything he’d experienced in twenty fucking years.

“Don’t know how to do this,” you’d breathed against his mouth, your fingers clutching into his shirt, “just know that I want you.”

Joel pulled back, looking down at you with a hard gaze, ready to pull back, tell you this was a mistake, “Darlin’-”

“I know you want me too, Joel,” you’d said, firmer than he’d ever thought you could be. “I just need-” you’d stuttered, and leaned your forehead against his as you collected yourself, “I just need you to teach me.”

It had spiraled from there.

He’d tried to be gentle with you, but fuck, it’s so hard when you’re so soft beneath him, whining his name and tangling your fingers in his hair. You’d been so nervous the first few times you’d done this, nervous enough that Joel had pulled back, night after night, just to make sure you were still alright with him seeing you like this.

“You can say no anytime you want, sweet girl,” he’d mutter, “I won’t mind.”

But you’d always shake your head, eager to learn, eager to please. And fuck, Joel can’t help it when he fucks his fingers into you a little too hard, treats you a little too rough. He’d a bad fuckin’ man, God, he shouldn’t even be near you.

When you’d both started this, you’d been quiet and uncertain about what you wanted, leaving Joel to ease it out of you with soft touches across your body and licks of his tongue into your mouth.

Now, though. Now Joel thinks he’s made a fuckin’ monster.

You crave him in ways he’d never thought you capable of, dragging him to your bedroom when he gets home and stripping him down before he’s had a chance to say hello. You beg him to fuck you, use you, anytime he wants.

“Need it Joel,” you’ll whisper, pulling him with you. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You don’t even make it to the bedroom today. No, you corner him while he’s making dinner for you both, turning him until his back is pressed against the counter. You look at him with those pretty, pretty eyes, warm and gorgeous and calling to him like a goddamn siren, as you sink to your knees.

“Sweetheart, you can’t-” he stutters over his words like a virgin, and all you do is look up at him as you unbutton his jeans, pull his fly open and free his cock. It’s fucking sinful, the way it looks huge next to your pretty little mouth, the way you press it against your cheek, looking up at him with all of the fucking innocence he’s taken from you.

“What Joel?” You coo, pressing gentle kisses up his shaft before sucking the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it for one horrible, maddening moment, before pulling back again. “You don’t want me to suck your cock?”

Joel is going to fucking die here, in this kitchen, if you keep talking like that, keep licking at his cock and looking at him like that from the floor. “Darlin’, fuck ‘course I want you, but fuck, not here. We can go to bed-”

“Too far,” you whine, and Joel doesn’t have a chance to fucking breathe before you’re sucking his cock into your mouth, bobbing down as far as you can before he hits the back of your throat, and motherfucking Christ, that’s it, he’s going to die.

You suck his cock like a goddamn pro, like you hadn’t just learned to do this a few months ago. And Joel should feel bad, he should feel some modicum of guilt for making this pretty, innocent nurse into such a filthy little thing, but he can’t bring himself to when it feels so good. So fucking hot and wet, and your fingers digging into his thighs over his jeans.

“God damn it, baby,” he grunts when you hollow your cheeks, making it that much tighter and his head is spinning, fuck, he must be losing it. You fucking smile around his cock, bobbing deeper, pumping the part of his cock that can’t fit in your mouth with a slick hand. “Suckin’ me so good, that’s so fuckin’ perfect, shit-”

His hips twitch uncontrollably, shoving his cock far, too far down your throat. You choke, pulling off of him immediately, pumping him in your hand as you gasp for breath. And Joel fears he’ll pass out when a line of spit connects the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. “Shit, sorry, sweetheart-” he grunts, but you only smile up at him, pumping him quick and so overwhelmingly perfect. Joel’s knees threaten to start shaking.

“You can fuck my mouth, Joel,” you say, blinking up at him slowly, sweetly. “I promise I don’t mind.”

Joel’s vision blurs at the edges, and he sucks in a labored breath through clenched teeth as you suck him into your mouth all over again. Your hands wrap around his wrists, tugging his hands into your hair, and fuck, how can Joel resist you? He’s never been able to, and damn it, he probably never will.

He curls his hands into your hair, pumping his hips up into your mouth as far as you can take him, before pulling out again. Fuck, what would people say if they knew Joel Miller had the little nurse, with the baked goods and kind smile, on her knees in his kitchen, fucking her mouth like she’s no more than a filthy fucking whore.

His cock throbs in your mouth as he drags his hips in and out, in and out. You make obscene, sinful fucking sounds, little whines when he pulls out, loud, wet sucking noises when he pushes back in. You just kneel and fucking take it, letting him pull your mouth onto his cock with his fist gripped in your hair.

From the corner of his eye, Joel can see your hand move, subtle and silent. He nearly chokes when that pretty, delicate hand disappears between your thighs, rubbing at your clit through your pants as Joel fucks into your mouth like a goddamn madman. The sight nearly makes him black out.

His orgasm rushes into him without warning, and he can barely choke out a rough, “Fuck, gonna cum-” before he’s shooting his cum down your throat. You moan around him like you love it, the vibrations reverberating up his fucking spine.

Joel Miller is a bad fuckin’ man, but he thinks this might be what heaven feels like. It's probably as close to heaven as he's gonna get.

When he finally releases his grip on your hair, you lean back, letting his sticky cock slip from your mouth, and Joel watches as you stick your tongue out, showing him that you swallowed every drop. Joel’s spent cock twitches between his thighs.

“Take your fuckin’ clothes off,” he mutters, dark and deep and every bit the bad man everyone thinks he is. “Right now.”

You smile softly, standing up off the floor and pressing yourself against him. “Why don’t we go to bed, Joel?” you murmur in his ear, and Joel growls.

He spins you both around until you’re bent over the counter, ass out for him.

“Too far,” he murmurs, and wrenches your pants down your thighs.

#joel and his giant dick will be the death of me #love him for that #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fic

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starmapz · 2 months ago

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(TONGUE) TIED

𓉸 husband!ryomen sukuna x f!reader || non-curse au

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ you can't possibly get home fast enough in the eyes of your husband who's been undressing you with his eyes all night. to his delight, he finds that you're just as eager as he is and feeling a little freaky, which means sukuna gets to pull out your collection of toys and ropes. ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. this is kinda freaky idk what was up with me. explicit smut. rough sex. safe word established but unneeded. unprotected. manhandling. nipple play (f! receiving). neck kissing. marking. biting. toys (rabbit vibrator, nipple clamps). bondage. overstimulation. fingering. oral (f! receiving). dacryphilia. use of pet names (girl, woman, minx, princess, brat, baby). praise. choking. stomach bulge. cervix mention. light impact play. degradation (slut). creampie. cumplay. fluffy aftercare. kinda soft!sukuna?

𓉸 words ; 7.5k.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

Your husband has been mentally undressing you from across the table all night, his attention drawn to you as though you have your own personal gravity meant for him only. There’s barely a second throughout the entirety of dinner where his eyes aren’t filled with an unspoken fire directed at you.

It’s not like it’s unusual to catch a glimpse of Sukuna eyeing you up, but his lack of attention towards the rest of your friends at the table hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You wonder if he caught a glimpse of the crimson panties adorned in black lace with garter straps that held up your stockings and a matching crimson and lace bra before you left to meet your friends. It was intended to be a surprise for your husband for later but given that you couldn’t often find him much further than a room away from you at most, you wouldn’t be shocked if he’d noticed.

“Can ya stop undressin’ your wife at the table and listen, dumbass?” Toji’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, a brow raised as at last he manages to get Sukuna’s attention. “I was askin’ if you can watch Megs and Miki next weekend for a day so I can take my wife out on a date.”

“Hm? Ask Uraume,” Sukuna grumbles, an air of irritation around his words. The two of you are free next weekend and Uraume already stated they weren’t able to, which Sukuna would know if he’d bothered to listen.

Toji sighs but before he can explain to Sukuna what he’s missed, your heel jabs into your husband’s shin and his knee collides with the bottom of the table. The commotion silences the entire table, pulling Uraume and Shiu’s attention to the glare you’re getting from your husband. In spite of his grit teeth and clear irritation, there’s no malice behind his glare. There never is when it comes to you.

“Christ, fine, yeah, whatever,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff, snarling in disapproval at Toji’s teasing chuckle.

“Tell your wife thanks,” Toji launches a shit-eating grin at the tattooed man, who only sneers in return, rolling his eyes.

“Tell her yourself,” he grumbles, sulking in a way that only your stubborn husband would.

Still, his eyes are back on you and the commotion is forgotten in almost an instant when he hears your candied laugh at something Shiu’s said.

It’s not like you weren’t already planning on surprising him with new lingerie once you got home, but you could already tell you were in for a ride tonight.

And you couldn’t possibly be more right about that as he shoves you forcefully up against the door the moment you’re back at your apartment. His grip on your hips is bruising as his lips capture yours roughly.

“Fuckin’ teasing me all night, woman,” he grumbles against your lips, sliding a hand down your thigh until his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress. Hungry, his hands explore and squeeze the plush skin of your thigh until his fingers come into contact with the garter straps keeping your stockings in place.

He pulls back from your kiss-swollen lips to grin at you with lidded eyes. “R’ these for me, princess?”

“Always, Ryo.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck. He hungrily nips and bites at your skin, fingers mindlessly fiddling with the straps before sliding up to where they connect with your panties.

A guttural groan leaves his lips as he the tips of his fingers brush along the decorative lace of the panties you’re wearing for him. He pulls back from your lips, pupils blown impossibly big with unadulterated lust.

“Shit, what’d I do to deserve this?” He grins with lidded eyes.

“I’m asking myself that too given how much of a menace you were at dinner,” you mumble, thumbs brushing the base of his jaw that’s slack in a playful sneer.

“Oh whatever. Actin’ like you don’t like gettin’ ogled by me,” he rolls his eyes in exasperation, squeezing your hip with the hand that’s still firmly holding you against the door. His other hand moves suddenly to brush your core, a deep chuckle leaving your husband when you gasp. “Go ahead n’ act like ya haven’t been wet all night, ya ain’t foolin’ me.”

You pout up at him, lip jutting out playfully.

But that’s just the thing about your husband. He may have more bravado than any one person could need, but it wasn’t an act. He’s right. He’s always right when it comes to you. He knows you like the back of his hand, just like he knows what it means when you dress up for him.

“Feelin’ a lil’ freaky tonight, princess?”

Your cheeks flush red at his implication, but you nod.

“You’ll use the safe word if it’s too much?” He confirms.

You nod again. “I promise, Kuna.”

The smug grin Sukuna flashes you is only in your vision for a moment before he’s throwing you over his shoulder with ease. You’ve long grown used to him manhandling you, but it doesn’t make it any less jarring when your ass is suddenly in the air and you’re clutching to the muscle shirt that hangs over his broad shoulders.

You let out a yelp as he tosses you on the mattress of your shared bed, his expression fiery with hunger. That look alone has you clenching your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed as your husband’s tongue swipes his lower lip.

He’s on top of you in an instant, lips grazing the skin of your chest from the deep V neckline of your dress. It’s gorgeous on you, it suits you like it was designed just for you to be admired by him, but Sukuna’s lust is so overbearing he wants to tear through the neckline and have you exposed before him.

Your palms splay on his shoulders and press against the muscles to push him away, a sign that has him staring at you in confusion with one hand gripping at the fabric of your dress.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you warn. “Don’t you dare. This is new.”

He scoffs in disbelief, practically whining for you.

“You’re so impatient, Kuna,” you scold. “I’m gonna run out of clothes at the rate you rip them.”

His lip curls in frustration. “So?”

You raise a brow insistently. “I need clothes?”

“Nah, you don’t,” he grins, lowering his face back to yours to press a kiss to your lips. You tilt your head in an effort to give him better access, your hands sliding over his shoulders and around his neck as Sukuna dominantly takes control of the situation again and-

RIP.

You pull your head back. “Are you incapable of listening?” You scold him, brow furrowed.

He’s shooting you a shit-eating grin. You’ve dealt with his bullshit so long that you already know the answer is yes when it comes to things like this of little consequence. He’s got a good grasp on when the best moments are to push your buttons and much to your dismay this was one of them. Contrary to what most people would likely assume, Sukuna is a good husband, a great one even.

Words don’t come easily to him, he’s only talkative during sex and he’s frequently grumpy over inconsequential matters. He’s imposing and aloof around those he doesn’t know and seems to make a game out of scaring your co-workers the first time he meets them. He doesn’t know how to tell you that he loves you through words. It’s simply not in his vocabulary.

That’s the thing about Sukuna, he finds other ways to express his love. Ways that fill you with warmth and assure you that yes, he does love you, more than words could ever say.

Sukuna’s surprisingly attentive. Even when he seems as though he isn’t paying any mind, even when he acts as though he’s bored, he’s listening. His grumbly and standoffish attitude is little more than an act around you. He pays attention to the little things and takes care of chores when he sees that you’re too exhausted to do so. He sneaks back to stores where you mention liking something so that he can buy it for the next birthday or anniversary.

He knows your favorite flowers, he knows the kind of jewelry you like best. He knows that although you can hold your own on a motorbike, you love to be his little backpack. He knows you love to watch horror movies just to jump into his arms and have an excuse to cuddle, even though you don’t need one.

He knows the exact spots that you like to be kissed, the places that send a shiver up your spine and make your back arch and toes curl. He knows you love the way his tongue piercing feels cool in contrast to the warmth of his tongue against your clit.

He knows that when you make a point of dressing up for him like tonight, it’s with the intent of letting Sukuna have his way with you for the remainder of the night.

It’s for that exact reason that he ignores your remark about him not listening and leans down to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck, eliciting a pleasurable gasp. You grip at his shoulders for purchase, squirming beneath him as he tugs at the dress, ripping it further until he’s opened it from the front.

He feels your chest raise as you take a breath to scold him, moving fervently to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, and to shut you up. He grins against your lips, positioning himself between your thighs before he pulls back to admire you.

And god, does he ever love what he sees. The deep red and black lace of your panties and bra sets his skin alight with want, eyes trailing from the way your breasts are pushed together so deliciously down to where the garter straps attached to your panties meet the thin layer of sheer stockings that cover your legs. Everything about the lingerie, everything about you is so incredibly sexy, and he plans on making that known.

That is, after he rips everything off of you just like he did your dress.

Really, can you expect anything less from him at this point?

“Shit, y’ look gorgeous,” he breathes against the skin of your breast, holding himself above you with a strong forearm. His other hand moves to find the clasp at the back of your bra, easily releasing it and humming with delight as your breasts bounce when they’re freed.

The moment the cool air hits your nipples, Sukuna’s warm tongue licks a long, languid stripe up the left one, the contrast of his tongue piercing always sending your mind into a frenzy as you let out a moan, clutching at his shoulders.

You’re so tiny beneath him, a given when your husband is a nearly seven foot tall man with abs of steel, but it doesn’t make it any less daunting all these years later when you feel the massive tent in his pants brush your legs.

Sukuna knows better than to tear you apart without warming you up for him, though. He’ll have you cumming three times over before he dares to sheath his massive cock in your tight cunt.

Tonight is no exception. He sucks on your nipple, the sensation sending shivers down your spine as his tongue circles the sensitive bud. You can hear him fiddling with something on the bedside with the hand that’s not holding him up, but it’s a distant sound when his tongue piercing is bringing you so much pleasure.

His lips separate from the swollen skin of your breast with a pop, a satisfied smirk on his kiss-swollen lips as he pulls one of your wrists from his shoulder, pinning it above you.

“Gonna be a good lil’ wife f’r me tonight?” He growls darkly, waiting for your consent.

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker to the movement of your lips, jaw ajar as his chest rises and falls with a lust-filled hum. “Words.” It’s a command, not a question.

“Yes, Ryo,” you breathe. His tongue swipes his lower lip hungrily as he leans forward and begins to tie a very expensive soft red rope around your wrist. His movements are practiced, the action something Sukuna took extra time to research and learn to make sure you would be comfortable, even as he ties you to the headboard. Your second wrist is tied expertly as well and Sukuna pauses to press a gentle, loving kiss to your nose.

Momentarily, Sukuna’s eyes fill with adoration, but as he grabs the next rope and moves down the bed to tie your ankles to the end of the bed, that look in his eyes changes to one of dominant lust. He stands back, a predator admiring its prey, caught and splayed out beneath him. The red matches your panties in a way that sends his brain spiraling when you tug against the rope and your breasts jiggle with the effort.

“You tryin’ the run, woman?” He teases, his voice dangerously low and raspy. He knows this is as much of a game to you as it is to him when you whine in protest, eyes filled with desperation. “Needy lil’ thing.”

You pant, wriggling against the restraints as the wet patch of your panties grows increasingly uncomfortable and your need for friction increases. Your husband slips his shirt over his head, your eyes trailing the length of his built form, the way his tattoos seem to accentuate the ridges and valleys of his pecs and abs. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, he’s a work of art.

He drops his jeans to the floor, leaving only a pair of black boxers on over his aching cock. The confines of his boxers are equally as uncomfortable as he’s certain your panties slick with arousal are, but he needs to take care of preparing you to take his length before he can deal with that.

Crawling back over your body, he pinches your nipple in time with biting your lower lip, your broken whimper swallowed by his lips. The rough pads of his fingers are harsh against the swollen bud as his tongue presses into your mouth, dancing with yours dominantly.

“Gonna make you feel so good tonight, m’kay?” He pulls back to wait for your needy little nod before dipping down to lick a languid and teasing stripe straight up the wet patch of your lace panties. Your pussy tingles with anticipation as you tug hard against the expertly tied ropes binding your wrists to the corners of the bed.

With desire-filled eyes, Sukuna shoots you a devious glance as he hooks his fingers beneath the fabric of your brand new panties. Your eyes widen as you catch his train of thought. “No no no, not again Kuna, don’t you-”

RIP.

With a coy grin decorating his lips, he tosses the torn remnants of your panties aside, sliding the garter straps and stockings down your legs. You begin to let out a sigh at his actions, choking on it when the flat of his tongue meets your folds as he licks another long stripe up your needy cunt, dripping with desire. The contrast of his warm tongue and the cool metal of his piercing never fails to send a shiver up your spine.

Gasping at the sudden contact, you buck your hips towards him. Sukuna responds in turn by plunging his tongue into your entrance, large hands moving to hold you in place and keep you from your desperate wriggles. You can no longer greedily move your hips against him for friction, you’re completely at his mercy and he won’t take that opportunity for granted.

The harsh contrast of his metallic piercing against your gummy walls is something that in all these years you never did get used to, every prod of the metal sending pleasure straight to your core.

Sukuna knows this, he knows you like the back of his hand and he knows just how to drive you to your first orgasm of the night as he pulls back slightly, flicking the metal of his piercing over your clit.

He moves his tongue expertly over your clit before sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves. Pressure builds quickly in your lower stomach and you clench your fists, pulling hard against your bindings as you struggle to find purchase for your hands with nothing to grip, unable to move your legs beneath Sukuna’s insistent and bruising grip on your thighs.

With one final harsh suck and a flick of his piercing over your clit, you cry out “-Kuna!” and come undone as your orgasm washes over you in waves. Your body jolts with each languid lick of Sukuna’s tongue over your clit as he draws out your orgasm, pussydrunk lidded eyes watching your blissed out expression.

Your body goes limp and Sukuna pulls back, moving back over the bed to sloppily kiss you, your arousal coating his lips and chin as the taste of you lingers. He’s surprisingly gentle as he purrs in your ear.

“Good girl.”

Eagerly, the burly man positions himself back between your legs, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his neck to the side, a display that has you watching the way his muscles tense and relax with each movement, veins popping in his upper arms.

One look at the man between your legs always has you questioning how you got so lucky. The ridges and valleys of his abs decorated in tattoos are a sight to behold that would make anyone jealous, you might even call it a common occurrence. The real treat with Sukuna though is the way he absolutely worships the ground you walk on.

He’s cold and a downright pain in the ass to everyone else, but since the day you met him, he’s always been soft for you. That’s not to say he can’t be a pain in the ass, after all you’re now down a dress and a pair of panties, and he has a bad habit of starting arguments over things that don’t matter among other small grievances that come between you, but he’ll never let you go to sleep upset with him.

There’s no sleeping on the couch, no ignoring one another for extended periods of time. Sukuna knows he can be a dick and he knows he’s a lot to handle, but you’re his girl and he wouldn’t dare lose what he has with you.

You’re his world, and he’ll do anything for you, even if he has a funny way of showing it. Sometimes, it’s by tying you to a bedpost and fucking you until you cry.

His eyes survey your body, tongue swiping along his lower lip as he admires the swell of your breasts, your curves, landing finally on your arousal dripping from your pulsing cunt.

“Shit, y’ look like such a pretty little slut for me,” he groans, palming his painfully hard cock. What Sukuna wouldn’t give to bend you over and fuck you right now, his restraint running thin. The only thing keeping him from doing so is the thrill of having you tied beneath him and wanting to take things slow. That, and the size difference between you that begs that he prepares you to take him.

Your chest still rises and falls heavily from the aftermath of your last orgasm, but Sukuna is too eager to wait for any semblance of overstimulation to pass as he slides the tips of his fingers featherlight over your puffy lips, passing over your clit.

A light moan drags from your lips at the sensation. You lift your head to watch where Sukuna’s digits part your folds. His eyes are blackened with lust as he twists his left hand to sink his middle and ring finger into your slick entrance.

Nothing turns your husband on more than watching your arousal coat his fingers, in particular on his left hand where his wedding ring is tattooed on in the same style as the rest of his tattoos. Watching the way you drip down his finger and over the tattoo is the sole reason he got particularly good at fingering you with his left hand.

As your body eagerly swallows his fingers, he tenses his jaw as need tightens in his lower stomach. He can feel his resolve pulling taut just as his boxers are with each desperate pulse of his hardened cock.

“Kuna, ‘m sensitive, go easy on- mmph!” Your words are cut off in a gasp as you writhe in his grasp, pulling both wrists and ankles hard against your restraints when he sinks his fingers in to their hilts until the tattooed ring is buried within your pussy. You drip down his wrist as he curls his fingers expertly, wasting no time in prodding at the plush of your sensitive spot.

“Atta girl, show me how needy y’ are for me,” he purrs, eyes locked with his fingers.

“F-fuck- Ryo-” You babble words out as he speeds up his ministrations, pulling you quickly back to the edge of an orgasm.

“Y’ gonna cum on my fingers?” He grins, taking his free hand to press down gently on your lower abdomen. The tension in your stomach coils and tightens with the movement and you buck your hips, eyes shut tight as overstimulation and pleasure mix in such a beautiful union that you think you’re seeing stars behind your tightly shut eyelids.

“Y-Yes, Kuna,” you barely managed between moans and pants to answer his question as he curls his digits faster, brushing your g-spot rougher with each curl.

“No runnin’ from me, baby,” his voice is low as he presses down harder on your abdomen to stop the way you’re shuffling away from him. Tears form in the corners of your eyes from the sheer amount of stimulation that’s heightening every one of your senses and with one last curl, you pull your knees inward hard as your second orgasm of the night hits you like a ton of bricks.

The tug of your legs against the bedposts make a loud creaking noise, but the ropes don’t relent, keeping your knees apart a fair distance still. Sukuna slows his movements as he drags each wave of your orgasm out. Your moans and whimpers are like a song meant for his ears only, one that he directs with his fingers just as a conductor might direct a choir.

“Thaaaat’s it, doin’ such a good job for me, princess,” Sukuna praises as he watches your chest heave, your head thrown back as you jerk with each wave of your orgasm. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from your pulsing walls, the movement dragging a pretty moan from your lips. Your body trembles, muscles twitching with each convulsion as you come down from your climax.

“Look at me,” your husband instructs commandingly, leaning over you. You obey, heavily lidded eyes finding his handsome face. “Open.”

When you part your lips, Sukuna brings his fingers to them, sinking his digits into your mouth. You make eye contact as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, drinking in your own juices. Sukuna can’t help the groan that leaves from deep within his throat at the sight of his wedding ring disappearing within your lips as you obediently lap up and clean his fingers.

In truth, he could watch this for hours if he weren’t throbbing in the confines of his boxers still.

“Such a good lil’ slut,” he moans, pulling his fingers back as he leans over you to kiss and suck on the skin at the top of your breast. Leaving a trail of hickeys at the edge of your breast, he soothingly laps at the bruising skin, following suit up to the crook of your neck as he decorates you in bites, painting you with purple markings that glisten with his saliva in the soft evening light coming through the window.

Your brain is foggy in the wake of your second orgasm and you watch as Sukuna suddenly hops to his feet before languidly making his way over to the bedside table.

“Y’ think you can handle me yet?” He asks, tilting his head in a cocky manner. You nod your head eagerly, but your husband clicks his tongue. “Silly woman,” he huffs, leaning down to a drawer filled with-

Oh fuck.

You squirm against your bindings, whining at the realization that Sukuna has his heart set on pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you tonight before he cums even once.

“You whining as though ya didn’t ask for this?” He chuckles, standing at his full height again with a cute pink rabbit vibe in one hand and a pair of nipple clamps in the other.

“Kuna, just wait a bit,” you beg, tugging on your restraints again. “‘M sensitive.”

“Sensitive?”

You nod.

“Was it not you beggin’ me the other day to fuck you through your oversensitivity, y’ lil’ brat?” He scoffs, tilting his head with his lips slightly parted. He sneers slightly as his eyes roll. “Oversensitive,” he taunts.

With that, there’s no escaping your husband as he crawls from the end of the bed towards you, splaying your legs further apart with his forearms as he sets the vibrator to the side. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as you watch his movements.

Holding himself over you, he places several soft pecks on your left nipple, causing it to grow perky. Sukuna presses the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin, flicking it with his piercing as it catches the bud. Your head is thrown back in a moan, fist balling as you tug at the rope.

The tattooed man catches you off guard as your eyes blearily rest on the ceiling while he clamps the first side to your left breast. You gasp, followed shortly by a whimper.

“Look so fuckin’ hot with this shit on,” he groans, following his movements on your right breast. With a flick of his tongue over your perky nipple, you moan again and he takes the opportunity to place the next clamp over the hardened bud.

Your back arches off the mattress as you cry out. With the chain in one hand, he leans back to admire you, tugging on them and smirking when you whimper. The sensation makes your head spin as your pussy pulses and drools for your husband.

“Shit.”

He’s aching in the confines of his boxers, cock throbbing and tip leaky, but he won’t waste this opportunity to have you tied and at his grace. It may be his absolute favorite thing to have you bound on the bed for him, but this is all about you. He wants the bed soaked below you before he even has the chance to get his dick wet.

He picks up the rabbit vibrator, your favorite out of the drawer of toys and one of his favorites to use on you and teases your entrance with it. The toy is cool, the cold silicone sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine.

With a tug on the chain of the nipple clamps, Sukuna sinks the tip of the dildo portion of the vibrator into your leaky cunt, your arousal from your previous two orgasms enough lube to allow the toy to slide easily into your entrance. He watches your lips part, back arching as he hits the first ring of resistance.

“It’s too much-” you squeak, just as Sukuna pushes the toy in deeper. You moan his name, pulling hard on your restraint as you attempt to reach out to him and stop his movement. He does pause to allow you a chance to adjust, though he knows you’re babbling about it being too much purely from overstimulation as tears prick in your eyes.

Dropping the clamp chain over your stomach, he reaches out to wipe your tears. “Doin’ so good,” he hums. You whimper as he sinks the toy in further. His muscular forearm flexes as he presses the toy heavily to your g spot.

“Ryo- Please,” you writhe against the rope as pleasure coils in your stomach once more. With the dildo fully sunk into your gummy walls, the rabbit vibe now sits comfortably against your clit, prodding at it as Sukuna twists his wrist lightly, the pressure of both sides of the toy sending you into a state of pure bliss.

The bliss is short-lived as Sukuna turns the vibrator to the lowest setting and your body jerks and jolts from the stimulation.

“Too much-! Toomuchtoomuch-” You cry out between gasps as you attempt to run from the toy. Sukuna’s large hand grips your waist tightly as he holds you in place. Not like you were meant to get far anyway with how well he’s tied you down.

“Shut up n’ take it, princess. You’re the one who asked for this when ya let me tie you up,” Sukuna growls, a familiar lust-filled darkness clouding his eyes as he kisses your inner thigh.

You shake your head wildly, but the overstimulation gives way quickly when he turns the vibration setting up a notch. You shut your eyes tightly with a moan as you arch into the toy.

“That’s it, baby. Gimme another orgasm, yeah?”

You swallow hard as you pull yourself up the bed barely an inch with a hard tug against the rope. Sukuna hums at the sight of your foggy eyes when they open once more, your head rising to watch where the toy meets your clit, the dildo swallowed by your needy cunt.

With the vibrating portion prodding your clit, Sukuna keeps it steady while twisting the rest of the dildo to brush your g spot with quick and rough thrusts. You can feel a third climax fast approaching as you arch against the toy, pressing into the vibrator.

With a click of a button, the vibrator goes up one more setting and you’re crying out suddenly as it pushes you over the edge.

As your walls clamp and pulse around the toy, your juices flowing out around the pink silicone, your moans become screams as overstimulation rocks you. The vibration is absolutely too much and yet you can’t get enough of it, squirming and wriggling in an attempt to escape the relentless friction.

Only when your cunt stops gushing out around the toy does Sukuna turn it off, leaving the dildo buried to the hilt within you as your chest heaves. With a sloppy squelch, the toy is pulled from within you and set aside. You shudder as you’re given a moment’s respite from the stimulation, your head falling back as you catch your breath.

“Whattaya think, pretty? You ready to take me yet?” Sukuna teases, waiting for you to meet his eyes. Your head swings up as you nod your head.

“Please baby,” you beg in such a saccharine sweet voice that Sukuna can’t help but indulge you. Well, that and the tension in his cock is growing physically painful, twitching against the confines of his boxers. It stands alert, slapping against his abdomen as it’s freed from the fabric.

“Since y’ beg so nice for me,” he purrs, sliding out of his boxers with his slutty upper thigh tattoos now fully on display. He positions himself over you, sliding his length through your folds repetitively and covering it in your slick as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss. Holding himself up on one forearm, he wraps his free hand delicately around your throat as his thumb strokes the side of your neck.

You whimper at the friction provided by his cock, desperate to have him inside you, all the while the overstimulation clouds your brain and you can hardly make sense of any thoughts. All you know is lust and need. You pull against your restraints in an attempt to wrap your legs around Sukuna’s waist and pull him down, but it’s no use.

Your husband chuckles at your pathetic whimpers and whines that get swallowed by his hungry tongue shoved down your throat. “Poor thing,” he coos, pulling back to kiss a line up your jaw. “Such a needy lil slut for me.”

Sitting back on his heels, he reels his hips back and ruts his cock against your clit once before he positions himself at your entrance. Your body jerks as cum leaks from your cunt. Sukuna keeps his gaze fixed on your expression as he tugs once on the chain of the nipple clamps, pulling a whimper from your pretty, kiss-swollen lips. As your lips part, he drops the chain between them, biting his lip as the petite chain decorates your mouth so prettily.

His cock throbs again and he can’t wait a moment longer as he pushes the angry red tip of his cock into your pussy. Your head falls back into the plush pillows as he stretches you and pain and pleasure mix with overstimulation. It’s such an overwhelming sensation that your abdomen coils and pressure builds immediately.

At nearly seven feet tall, it’s no surprise that Sukuna is big, but being both long and thick is always a shock on your system, even after years of being with him. The size difference is immense and even three orgasms deep, your walls are tight around him as he pushes past the first ring of resistance.

Sukuna reaches forward with a groan, large hand wrapping around your throat once again. “Doin’ so good, my little minx,” he hisses as he continues to feed you inch after inch of his cock. His thumb gently rubs soothing circles into the skin of your neck until he bottoms out. He remains still, giving you a moment to adjust and uses the opportunity to lean down and press an uncharacteristically sweet kiss to your lips.

“Still good, princess?” He asks in a tender tone you don’t hear all that often from your gruff husband. He knows he can get carried away when you let him bind you to the bedposts and with the size difference between you, he wants your full consent before he considers moving.

You nod, bedposts creaking as you attempt to move your hand to cradle his face, unable against the restraints.

“Words, princess.”

“I’m good, Kuna,” you assure him in a muffled voice as you speak around the chain residing between your lips.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pushing himself up to watch where your bodies connect as he begins to rock his hips backwards in a slow pace, watching his cock sink back into you. He positions himself to brush your g spot with each languid thrust and as you moan and throw your head back once more, Sukuna’s fingers begin to put pressure on your throat. He restricts your oxygen with expertly placed fingers, your jaw going slack at the sensation.

Your mind goes blank, overtaken by a foggy high as all you can feel is Sukuna’s pace beginning to increase, each thrust sending pleasure through your body like a bolt of lightning. The ropes tied to you are pulled taut at each limb as you attempt to reach out and cling to your husband for purchase.

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight,” Sukuna groans hoarsely, relenting on your throat and letting oxygen back into your lungs as he slides his hand down between the valley of your breasts to feel your stomach. He places light pressure on your lower abdomen, the feeling of the bulge of his cock beneath his hand setting his entire body on fire.

Like you’ve set him off, he leans back and unties your ankles suddenly. Now unbound, you attempt to move your legs to straddle his waist and pull him deeper, but Sukuna has other plans.

You whine when he pulls out suddenly, loosening your arm bindings by about a foot on each side so that he can flip you onto your forearms and knees. Your forearms are nearly positioned in an ‘x’ below you thanks to the cross-sections of the ropes still tied to the headboard. The chain of the nipple clamp falls from your mouth as the clamps themselves brush against the blankets beneath you. The friction sends shivers through your body.

With your ass exposed to him, your husband lets out a guttural groan, nearly an animalistic growl as he kisses the plush flesh of your left cheek before biting down. You yelp in surprise, jumping as you attempt to get a glance of the hungry look in his eyes. Crimson eyes stare back at you as he licks the spot soothingly seconds later.

He presses a peck to your opposite ass cheek as well, nipping the flesh more gently than the previous one as he leaves his mark on your skin alongside the purple decorating your neck and collar.

Leaning back, he stands tall on his knees behind you and pushes back into your sopping pussy in one swift movement. You cry out in pleasure for him, fingers finally able to grip at the sheets for purchase and ground you as you become starry-eyed in pleasure again.

With a harsh slap to your ass, his hand slides down the small of your back and up your spine until he reaches your hair. Leaning over you, he presses you into the mattress, muffling your moans and screams with the blankets beneath. He keeps up his meteoric pace, every thrust causing your abdomen to twist and coil until you’re teetering over the edge, threatening to come undone beneath him.

“Ryo, I’m gonna- fuck-!” A muffled cry leaves your mouth between babbles as your legs quake in an effort to keep you upright. Your whole body jerks and shakes beneath Sukuna, your walls milking him for all that he’s worth. You’re so tight, gummy walls sucking and squeezing him so much that his movements grow sloppy, a sure sign he’s about to cum too.

“Ah shit, feels so good when you cum around me,” he groans, staring down at the ring of white arousal that coats the base of his cock. He wraps his free arm around your middle to keep you upright and held flush to him as your legs give out on you as he thrusts harder, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. The sounds of skin on skin slapping in the room is so lewd and hot that it makes Sukuna’s head spin.

In a few more thrusts, Sukuna’s climax finally hits after a night of denying himself any amount of pleasure all for having you tied beneath him. The amount of cum that paints your walls is immense as his warm arousal fills you up and spills out around his thick member. His abs tense with each wave of his orgasm as he continues to thrust until your walls have milked every last ounce of cum from him.

He leans over you as he stills, holding himself up over your bare body as both of your chests heave in an effort to catch your breath. Both of you jerk and jolt on occasion as the aftershocks of your orgasms pulse through you.

With a kiss to the small of your back, Sukuna leans back on his knees, staring down at his throbbing length as he pulls out of you. He hisses through his teeth as your walls attempt to suck him back in.

“Shit,” he mumbles as he watches his cum leak from your pussy, dripping down onto the blankets beneath you. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he gathers some of the cum on his fore and middle fingers and presses them back into your pulsing cavern.

You gasp in surprise, entirely too overstimulated and your husband chuckles when your body jerks in response to that feeling before collapsing fully onto the mattress.

Pulling his fingers out, he deftly flips you back over and presses his fingers between your lips. You suck on the digits, cleaning the fluids from his fingers obediently with a hum. Sukuna smirks at you with lidded eyes as he pulls his digits back from your lips with a pop!

“Y’ did so good for me, princess,” he praises as he removes the knots from around your wrists and removes the nipple clamps to set them aside. Your eyes are still noticeably foggy as you come back down from your fourth and most intense orgasm of the night, so Sukuna takes the initiative to take care of you.

Sukuna isn’t the most adept when it comes to your emotions. If you aren’t blunt with him, he’ll often miss the signs that you’re upset and brush past any clues you drop for him. He may not always catch on to little hints you provide him, but he does try his best to keep an eye on you and provide nonetheless. That includes knowing exactly what the best kind of aftercare looks like for you.

He checks over both of your wrists and ankles for any sign that your harsh tugging on the ropes hurt you at all but he’s done far too much research to allow the ropes to bring you any harm.

Taking in a breath, he gets to his feet and starts the shower, reaching an arm out to test the temperature. When it reaches the temperature you prefer, he returns to the bed and lifts you easily into his arms bridal style. He relishes in the way you subconsciously cling to him, nuzzling your face into his chest like the monstrous biker with a reputation for being an asshole is your own personal hero.

Reaching the washroom, he gently places you on your feet although he knows your knees will buckle beneath you, so he holds you tightly to him, doing all the work as he moves the both of you into the shower as one.

As warm water washes over you and cleans all traces of sweat and other fluids from your body, Sukuna simply holds you tightly against him. When he feels you bury your face into his pecs after a couple of minutes, arms encircling his torso tightly, he knows you’re coming down from your climax.

“How d’ you feel, baby?” He asks. After sex is one of the few moments he does tend to get tender and gentle with you. He knows on any other occasion you can match his snide comments and keep him under wraps, but when it comes to aftercare he knows better than to get on your nerves.

He wants to keep you happy and in a state of bliss for as long as he can, enjoying the sweet and doting version of his wife he always gets after dicking you down so good that you can’t walk- which is exactly what he just did.

“Mmm, good, Kuna. You?”

He chuckles at the dreamy way your words come out, light as a feather on cloud nine. “Yeah me too, baby.”

Sukuna cleans you up as you move in slow motion post-orgasm, though he always keeps an arm around your waist to ensure you stay upright. It’s a sweet sentiment, knowing just how willing he is to not only do all the work of showering for the both of you but also hold you upright the entire time as well.

Once you’re both clean, he places one last kiss to the crown of your head, squeezing you tightly to him. He shuts the shower off and dries both of you off before finding his muscle shirt to throw over your head. It hangs off of you like a dress, the long holes on both sides where the sleeves have been cut off revealing the swell of your breasts.

Your husband’s head tilts as he admires the sight of you draped in his shirt, a yawn overtaking your features. He can’t help but to think of just how lucky he is to have married the hottest woman on the planet. And to think that woman lets him tie her up?

His cock throbs at the thought and he needs to push it aside out of fear of breaking you. He gets you settled in bed, pulling the covers over you before he pulls on a pair of boxers.

Sukuna slides into bed behind you, pulling you flush to him as his strong arms wrap around your middle. He buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of floral body wash. Everything about you lulls him into a comfortable near-sleep state as you hum contentedly in front of him, feeling safe and happy in his embrace.

“I love you, Ryo,” you whisper over the dulled sounds of cars outside the window.

“Mhm, I know, brat.”

Sukuna may not say he loves you with words, but he shows that he does through the way he takes care of you. As his fingers move to gently card through your hair, you know Sukuna is showing that he loves you too.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; thanks for reading! i had so much fun with this one, please feel free to check out my husband!sukuna au that inspired this work and as always reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated ♡

𓉸 taglist ; currently open. please comment here or on the masterlist to be tagged in the rest of my kinktober work ♡ @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens @r0ckst4rjk

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no-144444 · 1 day ago

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risotto- l.norris

summary: brazil was shit.

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

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Brazil was his chance, and he fucked it up. He’d never been the best wet-weather driver in the world, he knew that. Going from pole to p6, effectively ruining any chance at the title didn’t exactly make him feel very good. All he wanted was some rest, some sleep, some good food, something to take his mind off his potentially fucked career. But you wouldn’t even be home, too busy overseas to even text him after the race. Not that he was mad, but he wished you had been there, even just in Monaco so that he could come home to you and your famous risotto recipe which was definitely not diet-approved, but it made everything ok again. He would kiss you and you would smell like you, maybe you’d even tell him he did a good job.

When he opened the door to his apartment, he did not expect to hear slow Frank Sinatra songs playing from his speakers, the smell of butter and parmesan in the air, and his beautiful girlfriend humming along to the lyrics as she soft swayed to the music.

“You’re home,” you smiled gently, making your way over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well done on getting through the weekend,” you whispered and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He teared up slightly, dropping the bag in his hand and tightly wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close as possible. He burrowed his head into the crevice of your neck and sighed, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there.

You let him hug you for a moment, hugging him back. He was broken, exhausted, and probably way too in his head about it all. You’d seen him do this before, putting too much pressure on himself until it was too late. You patted his back, letting go of him as his arms fell away. “Risotto is 3 minutes away, go get changed into some pjs, yeah?” you instructed. He nodded, yawning and sulking away to his bedroom as you started plating the food. You set it on the table and sat across from him as you both ate in silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. “We don’t have to.”

He shook his head. “I’m kind of tired, I might just go to bed,” he explained. “How was your weekend?”

Deflection, he was good at that. You indulged him anyway. “It was fine, boring,” you admitted. “Just a bunch of collecting samples and testing them. The drug trials are going well though. I missed you too much though, so I decided to come back early.”

A ghost of a smile graced his lips and you felt your worry lessen. “Boss let you off early?”

“He understood the circumstances,” you nodded. Lando chuckled lightly.

“I love you,” he confessed. You giggled, taking his hand.

“I love you too,” you smiled. “Now, let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“But the dishes-” “Can be done in the morning,” you finished for him, taking his hand and intertwining them with yours. You dragged him into the bathroom to brush his teeth, where he leaned on you from behind the entire time, making the both of you laugh. He even got his camera out and snapped a few pictures, ‘capturing your beauty’ as he would always say. When you both finally got into bed, he wrapped his arms around you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck once more. Everything was right with the world, you two were together, and once Lando had you, he wasn’t too worried about what the outside world had to say about him.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 month ago

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New Routine Comfort

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> You work with the Tornado Wranglers and have done for a couple of years, but being newly single means you need to find a new routine and Tyler might just be the person to help.

Disclaimer: Mentions and appearance of a cheating asshole ex, Tyler and Reader are more co-workers than anything until that eventually changes..., swearing, love confessions, use of "Sweetheart" from the Cowboy Scientist, two-stepping, teaching to dance, mostly fluff, little angst, and the Cowboy Hat Rule (..kinda..) Not Proof Read.

When you joined the Tornado Wranglers, you joined at the request of Boone. They needed someone who could capture more footage than either him and Lily got and, since they had raised so much for families that had suffered from extreme tornado weather, they wanted to make it more permanent.

Which was where you came in. You could help with footage collection, fundraisers, social media pages, editing and a couple other things. The rest of the team helped where they could, but you managed it well.

However, this did mean that you didn’t see the team as much as you’d like save from the videos they sent you and the group chat Boone had added you into.

However, it was one night sitting in a local watering hole that you found yourself growing closer to one of the Wrangler’s in particular.

Tyler Owens.

There was a week here and there that you’d join the team storm chasing each season. Except, this year’s week of you joining them on the road couldn’t have fallen at a worse time.

“Please don’t tell me you’re gonna sit here all night drowning your sorrows in crappy beer?”

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

Boone tilted his head. “Oh, not the head tilt. Please.”

“Come on, Y/n. He was an asshole. Forget about him.”

“Little hard to forget when I was the one to walk in and catch them,” you looked back at your beer bottle. The label was practically torn to shreds from where you’d been scratching at it. “It’s like it’s burned into the back of my eyelids.” You took a long swig of your beer.

Just a little over two months ago, you’d watched as your relationship of three years burst into a ball of flames. You’d come home, smiling as you texted the Wrangler’s telling them the company you’d been pestering for a large donation that, with their track record, would put them out of pennies, had not only agreed to donate but also to host and bring all of their more-than-wealthy partners to the event.

Only, as you called through the door for your boyfriend, you heard a noise. Had he fallen?

Then you found the trail of clothes leading into the kitchen before another one made its way up the stairs towards your bedroom.

“Have you tried thinking of something else? Maybe watching a horror movie?”

You nodded. “Apparently finding your partner cheating on you in your own bed, and subsequently finding out they’d been doing that for over a year…is the scariest thing for me.”

“Well…screw him! He never deserved you! And you deserve a good night! And some decent beer.”

You gave a slight smile. “Boone. I like my drink.”

And it was true. You did.

You watched as he grimaced and picked up the other beer bottles. “Don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

And away he went back to the dance floor with the others. And you turned back to your drink, your thumb still scratching away at the label.

An hour or so later, Tyler’s eyes found you in the crowd at the bar once more. He’d watched you all night. He’d watched you for the last two weeks if he was being completely honest with himself.

Since you joined the team, he saw you maybe for two weeks across the entire year. One week storm chasing, and the next seven days scattered throughout the rest of the year. But when he found out of Boone you’d be joining the team for most of the chasing season, something sparked inside of Tyler.

He was glad to have you aboard, of course. He might not have known that much about you, but he knew you well enough to know you joining the team for longer than a week meant something was wrong.

And once you arrived, it took him three days to finally figure out why.

“Are you sure she’s okay?”

Lily looked behind her, following Tyler’s gaze. Though, she could guess who it was. “Y/n? Oh, yeah. She’ll be fine. She’s hurtin’ right now, but she’ll be okay. Dude was an ass! Glad he’s gone.”

Tyler had met him only a handful of times but he could agree with Lily. He was an ass. An ass to you and an ass for letting you go.

But, as Tyler watched you, he saw something in you change. You’d gone from slouched on the bar stool to…alert. And nervous.

Confused, he followed the direction of your eye-line until he saw…

Him.

Stood with some blonde who couldn’t stop giggling into his chest as his arms were wrapped around her in such a way he was being possessive whilst trying to show her off.

And it was at that moment Tyler realised he wasn’t the only one watching you anymore. Because your ex had spotted you.

“No.” Dani and Boone told him as the bottom of his chair scraped the wooden floor. “No, let her handle this. She needs this.”

Tyler didn’t look convinced. So, Lily added.

“And if she’s not ready, then you can go. But they’re right. Let her handle it.”

So, reluctantly, Tyler sat back down. But he was itching to stand. He was itching to be at your side.

But you handled it.

Your ex approached you, and he seemed to make some kind of asshole comment about you. You didn’t seem pleased. Then everything about you…became fake.

One look around you made you realise there were plenty of people still left inside the bar. More than when you had entered with the team, even. If you caused a scene, you’d get kicked out. And your team would follow. But it had been a long week. They deserved a good night.

So you took it. You took his comments about smiling more, and setting him free and his thank yous for showing him he could have ‘something more with’ whoever the Blonde was waiting at the end of the bar for him.

And when he patted your arm, you could have thrown up. You never wanted him to touch you again. You’d told him as much when he tried to hug you, not ten minutes after being caught having sex with someone else.

And when he finally walked away…you wanted to run. But you had no energy left. Seeing him again zapped it all. You had been in love with him once, and believed he felt the same about you. All the memories of your relationship flashed behind your eyelids, before going back on themselves. The pictures told you of the lies he’d made in the last year you’d been with him.

Tyler watched as your entire body sighed before you started counting the cash in your pocket to leave for your bill.

Your ex didn’t get to ruin your night by being here. He didn’t get to take away your happiness, or your freedom to have fun in your bar.

“Okay, come on.”

You looked to your side and found Tyler stood there. He took your hand in his and dragged you with him.

“Tyler!”

“No, no.” Turning to face you as he finally reached the dance floor, he kept his eyes on yours. “He doesn’t get to take your night away. Fuck that asshole.”

“That’s my problem. I did fuck that asshole. And then he fucked someone else.”

“Then let him.” Tyler told you. “You deserved better than him, anyway. You still do. Do you know how to dance?”

You were in shock. You and Tyler were never exactly close. Sure, you’d talked over text, but that was mostly in the Group unless you needed to contact him directly for something about a fundraiser or an appearance at a school to help students when it came to Tornado warnings.

After a moment, you shook your head.

He gave a curt nod and stepped closer to you. “That’s okay. I can teach you. Is it okay if I put my hand here?”

You looked to see where he meant. It was around your back. You nodded.

“Okay, just keep your eyes on me. I’ll make sure you don’t trip.”

With one hand in his and your other on his arm, your eyes fell to the floor as you mirrored his steps. “I think you’re underestimating my two left feet.”

Tyler smiled with a small chuckle, and pulled you a little closer before tilting your chin up until your eyes met his. “Eyes on me, Sweetheart. I promise, I won’t let you trip. And nobody can be a worse dance partner than Boone.”

“You’ve danced with Boone?”

“Somebody had to teach him how to dance. I think my feet are still bruised.”

You smiled. “I’ll try and not make them worse.”

Tyler smiled as your eyes found his own, again. You were relaxing into the music. You were trusting him to take the lead. And before you knew it, the pair of you were two-stepping further into the dancefloor, a bright smile shared between the both of you.

Four songs, two line dances, and one group square dance later, you found yourself back in the comfort of Tyler’s arms as he held his hand out to you from where you had both sat down at the table.

With a nod and a genuine smile, you took hold of his hand and let him lead you towards the middle of the dancefloor. Tonight might have been the first time you’d both danced together, but somehow, it felt familiar. Routine. To be in his arms, to have his hand in yours, to have only him in front of your eyes and in your mind as you both softly danced to the slow song that played from the Jukebox Band on stage.

“Thank you,” you found yourself saying.

Tyler lifted his head from yours to look at you, and you did the same. “What do you mean?”

“I was about to go home. I would have spent the next twenty-four hours wanting to be alone and depressed. Instead, you did something else no-one has ever done.”

“And what is that?”

You felt yourself laugh a little. “Taught me to dance.”

Tyler’s mouth broke out into a smile before he took your hand and spun you around and back in. “You’re very welcome, but if I’m being honest, I might have had my own reasons. I need my own dance partner and, as much as I love the guy, Boone isn’t the most graceful.”

“So you’re calling me ‘graceful’? Have to say, that’s never been a word people have used to describe me.”

“Really?” Tyler sounded genuinely shocked. “All because you couldn’t dance?”

You felt a small blush heat under your cheeks. “Maybe I was in need of the right partner.”

Tyler felt himself blush. “Maybe you were. But I’d still call you graceful. I don’t know what people have described you as, but- if you don’t mind me saying.”

You shook your head. Coming from him, something in you didn’t mind a bit. In fact, you wanted to know.

“I think you’re so much more than whatever people tell you.”

When his gaze locked on yourself, you felt the rest of the room disappearing.

“You’re beautiful. In your mind, in your heart and in your soul.”

You could feel your heart beginning to race.

“Nobody should ever make you feel anything less than that. You’re an incredible human being, Y/n. We’re lucky to have you. I-”

Tyler felt the words catch in his throat. He didn’t want to scare you away. But he needed to tell you. He wanted to tell you.

“I’m lucky to have you.”

You smiled as you watched Tyler. He was one of the kindest men you’d ever met. Maybe he had a wild side, but that was what made him so good at his job. Beneath all of the adrenaline chasing, Tyler had a heart and soul unlike any other. He loved his team, his family, his job and his life.

Slowly, leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m lucky to have you, too.”

Tyler smiled and slowly, the rest of the room started to fade back in, slowly.

“You should come out with us more. Who knows? You might just catch the bug for chasing Tornados?”

You smiled. “Boone has been trying to get me to come chasing for years. What makes you think I’ll change my mind now?”

Tyler smiled. “We’ll go out tomorrow. The data is showing a small EF-1. Just me and you. After all, you can’t stay in the van forever.”

Tyler could tell by your smile you were deliberating it.

“You know,” you started. “Boone isn’t going to be happy we’re chasing without him.”

Tyler smiled. You had agreed. “I’ll make it up to him.”

Your smile settled onto your face. “Okay then. But just this one.”

Tyler nodded as you both slowly turned around in a circle. “We’ll see.”

Two months later, you’d been more chases than you could count. That morning Tyler had taken you out in his truck, there was a chance you could have called him an asshole (in a slightly more affectionate term) as he drove towards the tornado.

You’d edited hours of footage but being the one in the passenger seat was something else.

But the minute you looked up and out of the window and back to him…something changed. Something changed between you and storm chasing. Something changed between you and your job. Something changed between you and Tyler.

Boone, once he’d been cleared of his hangover, wasn’t happy about being left out from a chase. But Tyler found a way to make it up to him. And since you left Boone to sit in the front for most of the chases, had you made it up to him, too.

Sometimes you’d stay in the truck with Dexter and Dani but it was becoming much more routine for you to sit in the back of Tyler’s truck as he drove into another tornado.

And on the rare opportunity. Boone would give you his seat beside Tyler in the truck. You’d get better pictures for socials that way. At least, that was his excuse. It definitely wasn’t to give the Live Feed viewers what they wanted, which was more of you and Tyler together.

But in those two months, things had just been…teetering. You knew you felt something for Tyler, but you were too scared to let your feelings known in case he didn’t feel the same. At the end of the day, you loved your job and the team. You didn’t want to give them up because of a school girl crush you had on the Cowboy Tornado Wrangler.

But the others saw the way Tyler looked at you, too. They’d seen it since he first met you. He never made a move considering you were in a relationship, but that didn’t stop his feelings from growing when he saw you or saw your name pop up on his phone.

And since you started actually chasing with him…he was a goner.

He looked at you like you hung the moon, and you looked at him in the exact same way. But apparently only the team and the comments section of the videos could see it.

“I can’t believe the season’s almost over.”

Tyler shook his head. “We’ve still got a month or so left.”

“I know, but…I’m really enjoying it.”

He smiled proudly. “Told you you’d catch the bug.”

You and Tyler, like every weekend, had found yourselves back in each other's arms on the dancefloor, two-stepping along to another song. And being back in his arms was like your two left feet had disappeared.

It might have also helped you’d both practised in your hotel rooms over the last couple of months. For the last month, you’d both been sharing a room since every motel that Boone and Lily found only seemed to have so many rooms left. And with the others bunking together, it left you and Tyler together.

“I got a call, by the way. A school just outside of Wichita is wondering if you and the team will come down and talk to the kids. Most of them have seen your videos, but a lot of them are scared and the city’s local ‘what to do in a Tornado’ has scared them all half to death.”

Somehow, Tyler had this magic about him. Whenever he and the team went into school to explain about Tornados, all the kids walked away a hell of a lot less scared than they were when they walked in. In fact, most of them walked away talking to their parents about meteorology and the science behind a Tornado.

“Of course we will.”

You smiled. “Good. Because I already said yes.”

He figured you might have done. “When do they want us there?”

“As soon as you're available.”

“We could go after this next chase? There might be an EF-3 in the next couple of days. I want to make sure people are safe.”

You nodded with a smile. “We can go after, then.”

Soon the song came to an end. “I’m gonna get a drink, want one?”

Tyler nodded as he let go of your hand and he went towards the team’s booth. “Please.”

Ordering your drinks, you waited for them to be ready. Only, as you did so, you felt the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There was a familiar smell in the air and it made your entire skin crawl.

Then you saw him.

“Aren’t you meant to be in a mourning period or some shit?”

You were taken aback by his abruptness. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve been broken up for less than six months then I come in here and see you trying to flirt your way into some guy’s pants.”

“What? Like you and her over there? Tell me, is she the one from during me, or after me?”

“You bitch. She’s my girlfriend.”

“And that’s different?”

You ex stood straighter and hissed. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s my girlfriend. He’s just- What? You’re fuckbuddy?!”

Before you could answer, you felt a much more comforting presence behind you followed by his voice and a hat being placed on your head.

“Boyfriend, actually.”

You turned your head and looked at Tyler who just winked and you relaxed into his arm that laid across your shoulders.

“And I don’t appreciate you calling her a bitch.”

“How long have you been fucking him?!”

Then Tyler stepped in front of you. The hand on his back let him know he’d done the right thing.

“You’re done talking to her now. You’re gonna talk to me. Better yet, you’re gonna listen. The biggest mistake you ever made was thinking you could find anyone better than her. Now, I’m sure your girlfriend loves you very much and I think she came out here to enjoy her evening like everyone else and doesn’t want to be kicked out with her boyfriend who’s just been given a black eye.”

“Are you threatening me? You can’t threaten-”

Then Tyler’s voice lowered, making the conversation strictly between himself and your ex.

“The minute that hat touched her head, it let everyone know who she’s with and considering I know the owners here, them and everyone in this bar will protect her over some scumbag like you. And unless you’d like to spend a night in a cell with the County Sheriff, I suggest you and your girlfriend find some other place to have a drink and you never even think about my girl again. Do I make myself clear?”

One look around the bar to see if anyone else had seen or heard what had gone on let your ex know they had. And from the looks of the patron's faces, they were more than ready to defend both you and Tyler against the asshole standing in front of him.

“Whatever, Dude.” Walking away, he called out for his girlfriend, grabbed her hand and walked towards the door, constantly looking over his shoulder. Especially after one of the owners followed him out of the door and watched him load himself into his car.

Once the owner walked back inside and gave a curt nod to Tyler, everyone went back to normal and Tyler turned back around to face you.

“I’m sorry if-”

“Thank you.”

Tyler was expecting you to tell him off, or yell at him. Say something that made sure he knew never to do that again unless you asked.

“What-”

“Nobody has ever done that for me before and, if I’m being honest, I was 90% sure he would have done more than just yell at me whilst I was here. So, thank you.”

“I meant what I said. You should never let anyone make you feel less than what you are. You’re beautiful, Y/n. Inside and out.”

You smiled and turned towards one of the beer bottles that had been placed in between you and Tyler in order to hide the blush of your cheeks. “Nice touch, by the way. With the hat.”

There was a slight twinkle in Tyler’s eyes along with his semi-confused and intrigued look.

“You know about the hat?”

“You explained it to him, didn’t you?”

Then he realised. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Right.” And nervously took a long swig of his own drink.

But then you removed it from your head. “You’re gonna want this back.”

And for a moment, Tyler held it in his hand, deliberating on what he wanted to do, vs what he should do.

He shook his head and handed it back to you. “Keep it. In case he thinks about coming back.”

“I don’t think he will.”

“Well, if he does. He’ll get the message.”

It took you a moment, but keeping your eyes on his, you placed the hat back on your head. Tyler swallowed another gulp of his drink and turned to face you before he fixed the hat on your head.

“Better?” You asked.

Tyler nodded as he looked away. He had to hide his blush somehow. “It suits you.”

Then the next song came on.

“Come on, let's dance.”

Taking Tyler’s hand, you dragged him back to the dancefloor.

By the end of the night, you all walked back towards the motel considering it was only a block or two away. Down the road, Lily and Boone were giving each other piggy-back rides, Dani was listening to Dexter talk about everything he knew about Tornados and where Tyler would usually be on his own at this point in the night, he found you right next to him, still wearing his hat.

“Careful.”

Tyler took your hand in his as he pulled you away from a deep puddle in the path.

“Thanks.”

When you’d both finally made it to dry concrete, your hand never left Tyler’s.

“What are you thinking about? You look like you’re in deep conversation with yourself under that hat.”

You broke into a small smile. “I am.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing important,” you shook your head.

“Try me.”

Looking at Tyler, you took in a breath and looked back at the sidewalk. “Okay. I’m thinking about what to do.”

“About what?”

You stopped in your tracks and looked at where your hand was interlinked with Tyler’s. Then you looked him in his eyes.

“I know you were just helping me before, with my ex and…everything. But…”

Shit. You cursed yourself over and over again. But you didn’t want to waste any more time in your life.

Just spit it out. You told yourself.

“Is..is there a world…maybe…where…” You took in a tough breath. “Where would you want something more?”

“Something more?”

You cursed yourself for a whole other reason now. You’d dug your grave this far. Might as well hope for it to collapse on top of you.

“Something more between…us?”

The next ten seconds were the longest ten seconds of your life. You were pretty sure you’d died three lifetimes over by the time you felt like you were back in your body again.

“You know what, forget I said-”

“Yes.”

You felt yourself physically stall. “What?”

“Yes. I want something more. There is a world where I want something more. And it’s this one.”

You didn’t know what to say. The others were long down the street so it was just you and Tyler.

“I…I don’t know what to say from here. I wasn’t expecting to actually say anything.”

Tyler smiled and stepped a little closer to you. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

“Where do we go from here?”

Tyler thought about it for a moment before looking around. “Come with me.”

Tyler dragged you back down the street, over the puddle and towards a small field just off the side of the road.

“Tyler, what are you doing?”

“Getting rid of the light pollution.”

You felt yourself laugh. “What for?”

He pulled you a little further out into the field before the lights faded away over the hedge and all you were left with was the blanket of stars above you and Tyler. And, being back in the comfort of his arms, he danced you around a small patch of wildflowers.

“Neither of us knew what to do, so I’m taking you on a date. Usually, we would have gone for dinner or I would have brought something with us but since we’ve done that part without knowing where we’d end up…I’m skipping to the end a little.”

“So you’re saying, for our first date, you would have packed a picnic and we would have gone stargazing? That’s…incredibly romantic.”

“Think it’s corny?” Tyler asked and then he laughed. “You think it’s corny.”

Your eyes narrowed a little. “Maybe. Just a little. But, I love it.”

There was no one else. It was just you and Tyler, dancing, under the stars.

“I do have one question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Would you have kissed me at the end of the date? Would we have danced under the stars then and would you have kissed me?”

“Now who’s the corny one.”

You blushed a little and laughed. “I’m serious. I’d need to know if you were a good kisser. Couldn’t wear my cowboy’s hat and not enjoy kissing him, too. And before you say anything, I know that might not be the rule. But it does come as a part of mine.”

Tyler felt most if not all of his face turn red at the thought. When you had asked him in the bar…you already knew. He was glad there were no bright street lights surrounding either of you right now.

“Well, then, since you’re already wearing my hat…I can’t start breaking the rules now…”

With another smile, Tyler’s hand cradled your head as he pressed his lips to yours, letting his free hand hold you flush against him by the waist.

By the time he pressed a final small kiss to your lips, with his forehead against yours, you felt your lungs scratching your chest to breathe.

“Yep, definitely didn’t break any rules.”

Tyler let a chuckle leave his chest. “Come on, we should get back. Before the others start wondering where we got to.”

Boone and Lily had had too many beers to be left unsupervised. Last time Tyler had left either of them alone, they’d somehow chalked out an entire Tornado on the side of a motel wall. Even if it was exquisite, the motel owner wasn’t the happiest of people to see it.

“Okay. But we’re doing this again.”

“What? The date, the kiss or the dancing?”

“All of the above.”

Tyler smiled and reached down, lifting his hat from the ground before placing it back on your head. “Good, because I wasn’t finished.”

With a smile that hurt your cheeks, Tyler took your hand in his and you both hurried your way back down the road, over the puddle and towards the motel where you both found Boone and Lily playing a very terrible version of hide-and-seek.

But something that neither missed was the way yours and Tyler’s hands were intertwined between you both, or that in the morning and the mornings after, you and Tyler rarely left each other's side.

And neither of you had to be pushed to share a room.

It became a routine. Along with the dancing, kissing and storm chasing.

And when the third teacher hit on him at the elementary school he was talking at, despite you finding it a little funny watching him try and shut down each woman with kindness that left them just wanting him more, he proved his point in front of the faculty and his team (even if they already knew) by giving you the millionth kiss of a lifetime from him, with his hat upon your head.

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ink-n-shadow · 1 year ago

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Alright...hear me out. Ghost with a fem!reader that wakes him up with a blow job, and he later returns the favor by waking her up by either eating her out or very gently fucking her awake. I am a FERAL for consenting somno.

this, THIS is what i needed to write about😌

WAKE-UP SEX

𝜗𝜚 the one where you wake simon up with a surprise and he returns the favor

𝜗𝜚 pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), consensual somnophilia (m! and f!receiving), oral (m!receiving, mentions of f!receiving), slight dirty talk? (basically just simon having a way with words), not proofread 𝜗𝜚 note: pt. 2 can be found here ⤳ link

you wouldn’t even know how this whole thing started with simon. you would both probably be a bit tipsy, trying to celebrate his most recent mission with a few sips (an entire bottle) of wine at home.

you would be sitting in simon’s lap, thighs hooked on either side of his hips and leaning back against the hands he was running along your spine. you weren’t even sure you heard him right at first, which made your eyebrows furrow a bit as you met his gaze.

“you want me to what?”

simon rarely got sheepish or embarrassed, but when it came to sex, he was typically a bit more reserved.

“c’mon…don’t make me say it again, sweetheart. that’s fuckin’ cruel to do to a man.” he joked quietly, the touch of his hands on your back becoming a bit firmer as he pulled you closer. “just wanted to give you somethin’ to think about, lovie. i think it’d be bloody sexy to wake up with my cock halfway down your throat."

simon never mentioned it again. but you remembered, letting the idea hang in the back of your mind for weeks. the more you thought about it, the more it excited you. so when you woke up early one morning with simon still fast asleep next you, you knew that it was the perfect time.

you slowly slipped down the bed, nestling yourself under the blankets and between simon's slightly opened thighs. you gently tugged down the hem of his briefs until you could fish his semi-hard cock from its confines, unable to hold back the soft hum that fell from your lips as you felt its heaviness in your palm.

it didn’t even matter that the blanket over your head concealed simon’s peaceful face—all you could focus on was licking a long stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue flicking against the soft pink tip and fingers squeezing along the base. the heady taste of simon bled out on your tongue, making your eyes slowly flutter closed as you closed your lips around him and gave him a gentle suck.

simon’s legs twitched at the sudden stimulation, his brain slow to catch up and stir out of his tired stupor. “mmm…what’re you—oh christ.” his hand found the back of your head beneath the blanket, his other making quick work to push the fabric away from your face and letting his eyes feast on the sight in front of him. “jesus, sweetheart. m’not—fuck, not gonna last long with your throat squeezin’ me like that.”

simon was still half-asleep, his movements slow and sluggish as he shifted further up on the pillows to get a better look at you sucking him off. one hand remained on the back of your head, not as a guide but simply to touch you, the other resting along your opened jaw and fingers brushing at the corner of your stretched lips. he was right—he didn’t last long. it took only a few more languid dips of simon’s cock into the back of your throat before he spilled his cum into your eager mouth with a soft hiss and whimper of your name.

what you didn’t expect to happen after that morning was for simon to return the favor.

you had fallen asleep on the couch one afternoon, legs splayed open and head nestled against the armrest as you slept. it was a blazing afternoon, one so hot that you were only wearing a pair of silk shorts and a tank top—all of which exposed too much and not enough all at once.

simon was walking through the door, arms loaded with his bag of gear and dirty laundry he’d collected while away at base. his eyes caught on your figure immediately, and it took everything in him not to drop the items in his grip. you looked so peaceful as you slept, but simon couldn’t care less about that.

once he had placed this things into a neat pile by the door, simon made his way over to the living room and sunk down on his knees in front of your sleeping form. he didn’t even bother pulling your shorts off of your hips, afraid the movement would stir you from sleep too quickly—so he settled for pressing heated kisses directly along your clothed core, a soft groan leaking from his lips as one arm curled around the thigh propped up against the back of the couch and tugged you closer to his waiting mouth.

a smirk flitted on simon’s lips as your sleeping body reacted perfectly to him, your legs falling open a bit more as you shifted your hips up in your sleep. he continued pressing those kisses along your covered slit until a breathy whine fell from your mouth. he peeked one eye up to notice your tired eyes fluttering open, a soft ‘what’re you doing, si?’ falling from you in a panted breath.

“remember last week? woke up cummin’ down that pretty little throat of yours.” simon mumbled into the heated skin of your thigh as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, pulling away with a lewd pop. his hand dragged up your body, palm pushing against your balmy skin from the top of your cunt until his fingers were splayed on your sternum. “just returnin’ the favor, sweetheart. relax f’me, baby—yeah, that’s it. go back to sleep and let my tongue do all the work, m’kay?”

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley headcanon #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod smut #call of duty smut #ghost mw2 #iNs requests ⭒#iNs anons: ✧w✧#iNs over 1k ❂#iNs Simon “Ghost” Riley 💀#ink's personal faves ❁

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gogogodzilla · 1 month ago

Text

✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟞 : 𝑅𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✧

【 𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑆𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑀𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 】

╰› 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

╰› 〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: The walls of your apartment are thin, and Steve lets his imagination run wild

╰› 〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, mutual masturbation, slight dirty talk, eavesdropping

╰› ✧ 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧ 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 ✧ 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑝𝑎𝑑 ✧

Steve never planned to have the life that he did. He never planned on surviving Vecna, he never planned on going to college, and he certainly didn’t plan on liking you as much as he did.

Moving in with you was the logical choice, of course. You got along well enough and shared the same horrifying memories that kept you up in the middle of the night. It wasn’t like Steve had a thing for you or anything. It was simply convenient. That’s all.

The first few weeks of living together were rough. His college plan included bringing home a new girl every weekend, and your college plan included not hearing that.

In truth, he couldn’t bear spending the night alone. All he could do was think. Often, he’d think of everything that had happened and everything that could’ve happened. It often led him down an unsettling road that he wasn’t keen on revisiting.

Sometimes his mind would wander to you. He’d wonder if you were up, and his ears would strain to hear any sign that he wasn’t alone in the early morning hours. Unsurprisingly, the walls of his apartment were thin, and it didn’t take him long to hear the telltale sign of your mattress springs squeaking as you shifted in your sleep.

If he got lucky, he could hear you attempt to stifle your sighs as you touched yourself in the late hours of the night. He had blushed and tried to ignore the growing tightness of his pants the first time it happened. Over time, he’d begin to relish those quiet, lonely nights when he’d picture you splayed out on your twin-sized mattress as your fingers dipped between your legs.

He’d mirror your movements and his hand slipped under the waistband of his briefs and freed his cock from its confines. He’d pump his hand once and then twice. You liked to go slow.

He pictured you dipping a finger down to your entrance, teasing yourself, before circling back to rub your clit. A small gasp filtered through your shared bedroom wall, and he liked to think he was right.

He slid his thumb over the head of his cock, collecting his precum and using it to lubricate his languid strokes. He wondered if you’d fuck yourself on your fingers tonight. He could fill you up so much better. He clung to the thought as his strokes increased in time and your sighs became more frequent.

He wondered what you looked like as you came. Would your face scrunch up or would your eyes roll in the back of your head? He wondered if anyone ever made you feel as good as he could.

The few times you’d taken your revenge and brought home a guy of your own, he’d try to memorize the noises you made. Eventually, he listened so often that he could tell when you were faking it, which was often with the chumps you brought home.

You’d look so pretty taking his cock, tits bouncing with every thrust. You’d be so good for him, he could feel it. He’d be gentle. He’d take care of you. He wondered how your skin would feel under his fingertips. He wondered how you’d taste against his tongue— sweet and entirely you.

You let out a particularly desperate whimper, and he felt the familiar coil tightening in his belly. A strangled sigh left him as he increased his pace, twisting his wrist with every pass over his cock.

“C’mon, baby,” he panted. “Please, honey. Cum for me, please, please–“

You let out a high-pitched whine as your release crashed over you. Spurts of cum covered his wrist as he bucked against his fist, riding out his high. Each stroke of his hand was punctuated with a shuddering groan and his heart pounded in his chest.

After a few moments, he finally settled back against his mattress and attempted to catch his breath. His eyes fluttered shut, and he hoped to finally drift off into a peaceful sleep.

A gentle knock at his door sounded, and his eyes shot open.

Shit…

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #reader insert #no y/n #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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globalrebrand · 2 months ago

Text

An Unexpected Evening

Warnings: Capitano x Reader, not sfw, mutual masturbation, slight coercion

A/N: A piece posted from my Ao3, a gift for @gojoidyll for their stubborn hearts series. Posted here after a request.

It had nearly been a month since your impromptu arranged marriage to Capitano. The first of the Lord Harbingers. He was a notoriously aloof and enigmatic figure, and thus far, married life had been far from standard. Not that it bothered you per se. You both agreed to have minimal expectations of one another. However, you weren’t entirely used to your independence being hampered by the proximity that marriage brought. You two now shared a home, a bed, and the occasional bath, and while you didn’t mind, sharing these important spaces made it difficult for you to have much-needed “me time,” especially in light of the fact you and your husband had yet to be intimate.

It is late, and Capitano is in his office. You’d spent much of the afternoon helping to archive some older documents at his request, and while you were happy to help, you hadn’t been able to be very far from him since his return home last week. He’d often request your company for all manner of tasks and activities. It was evidence that your marriage was going far better than expected, considering it seemed that Capitano really enjoyed your presence or was putting in effort to acclimate to you, but all of this attention is also what has you feeling rather frustrated as of late.

“Um, my lord. Is it alright if we sleep in separate quarters tonight?” It had taken you all night to gather the courage to make such a request, but you were pent up and desperate for release.

“Why? Are you unwell?” Capitano's brows furrowed with concern as his hand came to his favorite perch on your chin, tilting your face this way and that as an impromptu medical examination. Gently, you gripped his wrist and pressed forward with your gambit.

“No, I would. I just like a bit of alone time, just for this evening.”

Your husband's lips pursed. It was clear this was not an acceptable solution to him, so you offered a compromise.

“I could even come back later in the night if that would be preferable.”

Capitano's eyes narrowed, before a slight look of epiphany flashed across his features. “Wife, do you intend to touch yourself?

“What! No, I-” You stuttered, embarrassed he would state things so plainly. Not that it was all too surprising based on what you knew of his character.

“Do not lie to me. I am your husband, and you needn’t be coy with such matters.” He said sternly. Your eyes snapped to meet his gaze, knowing well that if you didn’t meet his eye, he would simply make you.

“Yes.” You admitted, shoulders slumping with embarrassment but doing your best not to break eye contact. “I felt it would be rather inconsiderate to do so next to you while you slept.” That and you usually kept the light on to read whatever smut novel you liked from your collection. It was quite a challenge balancing a book, flipping pages while stimulating yourself, but you’d gotten the science down to an art. Capitano’s expression relaxes, and you feel a bit of hope that he’ll grant you what you desire.

“Thank you for your consideration, wife.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back after-” You eagerly assure him, a light smile settling on your lips, but your excitement is interrupted, by your husband's thunderous voice.

“You get ahead of yourself, wife.” He raises an eyebrow. “I will not permit you to sleep in the other chambers tonight.”

“Oh…alright.” You sigh. Perhaps he would at least allow you to bathe alone…balancing a book in the tub was tricky, but you’d managed before.

“But do not fret. You are permitted to masturbate in our shared quarters.” You cringe at his phrasing but continue on in desperate need of a bit of clarification on the logistics of exactly how you’ll get off…privately, of course.

“…and where will you be, my lord?” You question.

“I shall be watching.” Capitano attempts to hide his grin as you gasp at his declaration, and the color drains from your face.

“Oh no, that’s quite alright.” Touching your tender parts in front of your husband was out of the question. Besides a few kisses and bathing with each on the rare occasion he was home, you and Capitano were nowhere close to consummating your marriage as far as you were concerned, but even so, this ask to touch yourself, to bring yourself to completion in front of his steely eyes, felt like an even more intimate prospect than sex.

Capitano catches your flustered expression, eyes darting back and forth as his piercing stare silently demands your attention.

“While I am home, you will take your pleasure with me or not at all.” His countenance is stern. You instantly understand this is an important rule to follow if you want to stay in your husband's good graces. And to a certain point, you understand his perspective. He is seldom home, and to pleasure yourself without him would be cruel, but you had not yet broached actual intimacy…how would you manage such a task!?

“I promise it’s not an event that would be worth watching.” You try to insist. Eyes quietly pleading with him to just allow you to have your privacy.

“I shall see for myself.” Capitano peered over your shoulder. “Are those your materials?’” He gestured to the book you had held behind you back.

Your face threatened to burst into flames, but any further protest would likely only upset your husband, with your glance askance you quietly muttered “yes.”

“I can read it for you, so you may use both hands.”

“No, it’s ok!” You urge politely.

“Then you will read it aloud so I may hear what arouses you.” He suggests instead.

Fuck. This was certainly not the anticipated or desired turn of events.

The short novella you’d selected was an absolutely debauched tale about a menage-á-trois, where a married couple corrupts a young, innocent maiden who stays weekend at their country estate in Fontaine. Capitano would certainly think that you were a horribly lewd young woman if he heard this.

“I’ll pick another selection-“ Capitano interrupts you by abruptly rising from his seat.

“No, we’ve already wasted enough time on this matter tonight.” With that, Capitano grabbed your arm, his burly hand gently tugging you out of his office and up to your bedroom. If you didn’t know any better you would think he was rather eager to watch your toy with yourself—something you’d never done for an audience.

Should you try to make it good for him? Being deliberately sexy was not something you were familiar with, any perceived sexiness in your past intimate encounters was just consequence of your desperate arousal.

Ugh…you were regretting not just trying to figure out a workaround in the bath. Maybe if you’d perched your book on the end of the tub between the faucet and spout, you flip the pages with your toes? And just drape one foot over the side so your toes wouldn’t wet the pages?

But then again, you’d ruled out that idea because Capitano’s tub was made for a man of his size and stature, the end of the tub was nearly a mile from the back rest-

“Wife. Make yourself comfortable.” Your husband drops your hand as he finished guiding you to your shared chambers. The opulent room is on the top floor of his manor, and while the wooden finishes are beautifully dark and glossed and the windows suitably grand and imposing, the furnishing in the room remained rather spare.

Thanks to you there was now a plush rug, set of twin wardrobes and a perfectly situated chaise, oriented to look across the dark forest to the nearby bay. Before the bedroom consisted of just a bed, a rather cruel looking bearskin rug and one side table with every drawer neatly packed with a variety of state documents. But even with your additions in the dim candle light the room felt cavernous. It would take quite a bit more furniture to make things feel homey in your opinion.

You glanced at Capitano as he pulled his night clothes from his armoire, without missing a beat you moved to do the same, but you struggled with the the back of your corset. Normally a lady would help you undress for bed but Capitano had seemingly been so impatient for this evenings decided course of events that you were now stuck fumbling with the laces on your back.

You let out of slight groan as your nail bent crudely as you picked at ribbons, but before you could even register his advance Capitano was at your back. His hands surprisingly deft and focused as he worked you out of the piece of supportive clothing.

“Thank you. “ You spoke softly but gasped in shock when your husband immediately went to pull you out of your dress and underdress, pulling both layers in one go, leaving you only in your stockings and garters.

You were too shocked to utter any rebuttal, and it seemed that Capitano interpreted this as consent to strip you entirely.

You felt his course hands glide down your thigh to begin undoing your garter and pulling the stockings down your legs, but his thumb grazed too close to your bare cunt, and you leapt away from the contact. Entirely unprepared for the feeling of his coarse hand against your silky flesh.

“It’s ok husband I’ll do this part, thank you for your assistance.” With no more than a grunt of approval Capitano retreated to the bed as you undid your stockings and put them away. You cast a glance over your shoulder only to see your husband reclined on his side of the bed and quickly scanning a fresh stack of documents as he waited for you. Turning back to your wardrobe, you reach for a nightgown, but you are interrupted by your husband’s booming voice.

“You won’t need that until later now come.” He patted your side of the bed.

You hesitated at his command, a bit petrified at the prospect of laying next to Capitano naked, especially when he had the privilege of being clad in silk pants and a matching buttoned top which laid open against the firm planes of his chest and torso, dimly illuminated by lamp light.

“Okay.” You muttered softly, resigning your yourself to the surprising turn of tonight's events.

As you climbed into bed, Capitano handed you your book. He must have grabbed it while you were busy undressing. It was already open to the flap with the plot summary. Ugh, archons save you. You gingerly took the book from him and placed it on you pillow. The poor novella was so accustomed to being used for this nightly ritual that its spine gave absolutely no resistance and fell prone, pages splayed against downy sheets.

Your nerves were through the roof, so to calm yourself, you decided it would be best just to pretend your husband wasn’t there and that you were alone in your old dark bedroom in the attic, reading by candlelight.

Your favorite position was a bit unconventional. Turning over in the bed, you got on all fours before sinking to your forearms and leaning back on your heels. Capitano let out a light groan as he watched you prostrate yourself, his hand slowly stroking against his thigh.

“Begin.” He encourages gruffly.

Like you’ve done hundreds of times in your dark bedroom, you slide your hand under your body and touch your pussy lightly, letting your fingers slide through your folds to gather slickness. To your absolute surprise. You're completely soaked. Usually, you need to read a bit of the story and thumb yourself over your panties before your fingers are damp enough to glide through your plump lips, but tonight, even the creases of your thighs are slick with the evidence of your arousal.

With a shaky breath, you begin. You skip to the best bits of the story, hoping you can get yourself to come quickly.

You finger yourself through the plot, reading aloud all the while. Describing in vivid detail, Monsieur Guillaume Berteau secretly fingers the protagonist, Vivienne, in the bathroom. At the same time, his wife entertains the rest of their party guests, then steals her sopping panties, forcing her to parade around sans culotte for the remainder of the evening.

But you get really close when, later, the couple seduces Vivienne into the swimming pool, and she shares a kiss with both husband and wife as she relishes being the center of their attention. Then Carmen guides Vivienne to spread her legs and welcome her husband's cock with all the enthusiasm of a baker gleefully spooning a first bite of something sweet into a child’s mouth.

You spare a glance at your husband. Capitano has pushed down his pants, leaving his groin exposed as he strokes himself to your words. Something about his arousal spurs you on, making you feel even hotter, even closer to reaching your peak. The headiness of your husband stimulating himself only inches away while you did the same felt empowering.

Your cunt aches deliciously as your stroke between your folds even faster. Your awareness of Capitano’s arousal is riling you even more than the contents of the story at this point. You turn to look at your husband, and with just a few more tight circles on your clit, you feel your whole pussy begin to spasm. You accidentally push the novella onto the floor. It's work done as your hole clenches around nothing as you start to cum, your fingers pressing firmly against your nub, working you through what is likely your strongest orgasm in recent memory.

Capitano catches your eyes as his hand slides fluidly over his shaft while his thumb occasionally teases the head. His cheeks are flushed with pleasure, but his eyes are so frighteningly intense that your natural instinct is to turn away from his predatory gaze. Faintly, you hear him scoff, but your mind and body are too far gone to register what that could even mean.

You shudder as you come, hips dropping, twitching, and grinding against the quilt of your bed to elongate your pleasure. With a few heaving breaths, you struggle to collect yourself. Eventually, you turn back to face Capitano, only to find him scowling.

And still hard.

“Turn over.” He instructs, not quite waiting for you to move of your own accord and flipping your hips.

You spook slightly as he positions you on your back and spreads your legs.

Is he going to fuck you!? The thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should, but this definitely wouldn’t be an ideal scenario for you to finally make love to your husband.

By way of protest, you offer, “Should I get the bo-”

“No.” He cuts you off immediately.

Capitano hooks your legs over him as he kneels in front of you, his thick thighs keeping your legs parted.

You tense as he takes his member in hand and begins to stroke himself again. His eyes first trained on your cunt. He groans at the sight, and his other hand steadies itself on your thigh.

“May I touch you?” He asks, only slightly breathless.

Silently, you nod, and Capitano takes the invitation to slide his hand higher. He pushes aside the curtains of your hair that have fallen over your breast and takes a soft mound in hand, grasping it with surprising tenderness and swiping his thumb firmly over your stiff nipple. You whimper at his ministrations, and his eyes snap your face. His hand quickly follows his stare as he brings his rough palm to your cheek, not waiting for permission, and presses his thumb between your plush lips. Capitano licks part his lips to offer a command, but you’re already sucking on his thick digit before he can instruct you.

Your husband hisses and tosses his head back. You take the cue glance down to his member just in time to see the firm planes of his abdomen contract, and with a few more tugs of shaft thick white seed starts to spurt out. Then it is your turn to cry out at the contact of the hot liquid splashing onto your clit and dribbling down between your swollen folds.

Capitano’s eyes return to your body, his steely orbs now pinned to where his spend clings to your cunt lips. Your frame is tense, but with a few strokes of his strong palm against your side, you begin to relax.

“Good girl.” he praises as he begins to lower himself over your body. You reach a hand between the two of you and gather some of the semen coating your pussy on your fingers.

Without thinking, you bring a hand to your mouth and tentatively suck his seed from your digits, tasting the viscous fluid like an adolescent sipping wine for the first time, which was essentially what you were. You didn't hate it as you thought you would, your eyebrows raise as if to say 'not bad.'

“Who taught you such a whorish trick?” He growls, grabbing your wrist. A slight look of awe mixed with a flare of righteous anger.

“I um, just wanted to taste you. I was curious.” You mumble shyly. Honestly. This was the most intimate contact you've had with a man and every physical sensation became new grounds for exploration.

Capitano glares at you skeptically for a moment before pulling you up into a kiss, far deeper than any you’d shared up to that point. His tongue seeks yours eagerly, his lips surprisingly plush against yours. When you part, he gingerly lays you down and settles atop you, pressing you into the mattress. He lets out an aching sigh into the crux of your shoulder.

“Beautiful.” He decides.

And your heart races.

#capitano x reader #il capitano #genshin capitano #capitano smut #capitano #fatui harbingers #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano

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