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julietsf1 · 2 days ago

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For Her - Lando Norris x Reader

summary: She came to support him. Instead, she was met with hate and a paddock full of people who acted like she didn’t exist. But if there was one thing about Lando Norris, it was that he loved out loud (3.2k words)

content: protective boyfriend, public relationship, public displays of affection, romantic grand gesture

AN: happy new season guys!!! what a race, I hope china will be kinder with my heart :') here's another fic for our race winner! muah <3

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The first race of the season should have been magical.

It should have been the kind of morning you’d always imagined—walking through the paddock with the giddy excitement of someone witnessing greatness up close, feeling the electricity in the air, the intoxicating mix of tire smoke, adrenaline, and champagne already waiting for its moment in the podium spray. You had thought of how proud you would feel watching Lando, how thrilling it would be to see him in his element, how belonging you might feel in a world that, until now, had existed for you in stories and through screens.

You had not imagined being denied entry.

"Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to step back."

The security guard barely spared you a glance, already moving on to the next person in line, his voice impassive, as if he had done this a hundred times before and you were simply another face in a sea of hopeful girls who had tried to talk their way into the paddock.

You gripped your lanyard a little tighter, your heart skipping slightly. "I have a pass," you said, voice gentle but firm as you lifted it to eye level, the McLaren logo glinting in the sunlight.

The guard exhaled sharply through his nose, unimpressed. "We've had a lot of fans trying to sneak in today. If you don’t have the right accreditation, I can’t let you through."

Your stomach twisted.

"I do have the right accreditation," you tried again, as kindly as possible, despite the heat creeping up your neck. "I’m with McLaren. My boyfriend-"

"Yeah, that’s what they all say."

The words were clipped, dismissive, and spoken with the kind of flat finality that suggested he had already decided you were lying.

Embarrassment coiled in your chest, wrapping itself around your lungs, making it suddenly difficult to breathe.

You stood there, cheeks burning, as people brushed past you, throwing curious glances your way. The seconds stretched endlessly, each one more excruciating than the last.

It wasn’t until a McLaren staff member recognized you—"Oh, she’s with Lando," they had said offhandedly—that the security guard finally stepped aside, not bothering with so much as an apology.

By the time you walked through the gates, the joy you had carried that morning had dulled into something smaller, something fragile.

And then, somehow, it got worse.

...

The McLaren motorhome stood like a beacon in the paddock, its sleek glass windows reflecting the bustle of team personnel moving inside. You exhaled slowly, shaking off the earlier embarrassment, and made your way toward the hospitality lounge, longing for something warm and familiar.

A latte, perhaps. Something to reset the day.

You stepped up to the hospitality counter with a practiced sort of grace, the kind that had been instilled in you from your childhood—shoulders back, chin lifted, a polite smile even when you wanted to disappear.

The woman behind the counter was stunning in a sharp, effortless way, her McLaren uniform crisp, her dark eyes shrewd, assessing. She barely looked up when you stepped forward.

"Good morning," you greeted, your voice light, pleasant. "Could I get an oat latte, please?"

The woman’s gaze flicked to you then, sweeping over you in a way that wasn’t unkind but wasn’t exactly warm, either.

"Are you with media?" she asked, already sounding bored.

You shook your head, still polite. "No, I’m—"

"Hospitality is for team guests only," she interrupted, her words clipped, a polite but unmistakable dismissal.

There was something about the way she said it, the way her lips curled just slightly, that sent something sharp down your spine.

You held up your accreditation again, your expression kind but unwavering. "I am a team guest. It is my first race though! I'm with Lando."

A pause. A flicker of something in her gaze.

And then, a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

"Ah," she said slowly, like she was only just now realizing. "Of course you are."

There was something else behind her tone, something you recognized.

You had met people like her before, in glittering lobbies, at perfectly curated events, in spaces where perception was everything. People who measured others in careful glances and quiet, ruthless judgments.

The woman tilted her head, her smile suddenly saccharine. "I’m afraid we’re only serving certain guests at the moment."

The words landed with the soft cruelty of a velvet dagger.

She wasn’t saying no outright.

She was refusing you while pretending it was about something else entirely.

You stared at her for a moment, your fingers tightening slightly over the strap of your bag.

You could have fought. Could have pointed out that this was ridiculous, that you had every right to be here, that her behavior was as transparent as it was petty.

But instead, you simply let out a soft breath and smiled.

Not the kind of smile that was warm and grateful.

The kind of smile that veiled the frustration you were feeling.

"No worries," you said gently, dipping your head, your voice smooth, graceful. "I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

And with that, you turned and walked away, back straight, head held high, because if nothing else—you were not the kind of woman who begged.

But it still stung.

...

The hotel room is quiet except for the faint murmur of the city outside. The occasional car hums past beneath the window, the distant noises of Melbourne nightlife drifting in through the small gap in the balcony door. Inside, the glow from the bedside lamp casts soft golden light over the pristine sheets, the half-finished cup of tea you abandoned hours ago, and your phone—face-down, untouched, deliberately ignored.

You had set it aside like it burned you.

And in a way, it had.

You don’t need to look at the screen to know what’s waiting for you there.

A photo. You, walking alone through the paddock, caught at an unflattering angle—your hands adjusting the strap of your bag, your gaze flicking off to the side. Out of context, impersonal, just another frame in someone else’s story.

But the caption beneath it?

That made it personal.

The caption beneath it, however, was anything but subtle.

"Classic gold digger. No personality, no job, just another wag looking for a paycheck."

The replies were worse.

"She looks so full of herself. I bet she spends his money like crazy."

"Lando deserves better. She looks disgusting."

"Does she even like racing or just his wallet?"

You had expected something like this eventually. Being seen always came at a cost.

But expectation doesn’t soften the blow.

It doesn’t make the words less sharp. It doesn’t stop them from settling in the quiet places of your mind, the ones that whisper in the dark when the world is still.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your hand over the sheets, willing away the tightness in your throat.

It’s fine.

You were raised to handle things like this with grace, with an understanding that women who stand beside successful men are often reduced to spectators, accessories, footnotes in their own stories.

You know who you are. You know your worth.

And yet, knowing doesn’t stop the sting.

A keycard beeps at the door.

Then, the soft sound of it swinging open, of footsteps—light, easy, carrying a kind of restless energy even now.

"Hi, darling," Lando’s voice fills the space before he does.

You don’t turn immediately, letting yourself blink once, twice, composing yourself in the quiet before offering a small smile as he steps inside.

He looks effortlessly disheveled—his hair still damp from the rain outside, his McLaren polo slightly untucked, the fabric creased like he’d run a hand over it one too many times.

He is still buzzing—from the high of the weekend, from the thrill of being back in the car, from the sheer joy of doing what he loves.

And then he looks at you.

And everything shifts.

His grin falters. His brows pull together.

"Hey," he says again, but softer this time, slower. "What’s wrong?"

You hesitate, fingers brushing against the sheets. "It’s nothing."

Lando stills.

"You’re upset."

It’s not a question.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly, lips curving in something almost amused. "No big deal, this is your weekend."

But Lando doesn’t smile.

Instead, he moves—crossing the room in three long strides, sinking down in front of you, his hands warm against your thighs, his gaze level, intent.

"Tell me," he says, quiet but firm.

All day, you have been ignored, dismissed, treated like an inconvenience. And yet, here he is, giving you his undivided attention, his entire world narrowing down to this moment, to you.

You hesitate. Then, finally, you murmur, "People weren’t exactly kind today."

His grip on your legs tightens just slightly.

"Security thought I was a fan trying to sneak in. Hospitality wouldn’t serve me." You let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head. "And now there’s a photo of me online. People saying I’m a disgusting gold digger."

Lando doesn’t move.

Doesn’t even breathe.

Then, slowly, he reaches for your phone, flipping it over with careful precision before scrolling. He doesn’t need you to guide him—he finds it immediately.

His jaw tightens.

And then, in a tone so low and steady that it makes your stomach flip:

"Are you joking?"

You open your mouth, but he’s already shaking his head, pushing himself up, pacing now, running a hand through his curls.

"Such bullshit," he starts, turning sharply, voice too controlled, too even, "that after everything—after how much effort you’ve put into being here, after how much of your life you’ve adjusted for me—these people had the nerve to treat you like that?"

You shift under his gaze, biting your lip. "Lando, it’s not—"

"No, no, hold on," he interrupts, hands in the air like he needs a second to process. He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it.

"Because from where I’m standing, you’re the easiest person to love in any room, and I genuinely don’t understand how anyone could be that dense."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, jaw tight. "Honestly, I don’t even know whether to be pissed or impressed by their level of dickheadness."

He stops, inhales sharply, then turns back to you.

"Tomorrow," he says, voice steady now, decisive. "We fix this."

You raise a brow. "We?"

Lando tilts his head, giving you a look like you have just asked if the sky is blue.

"Obviously."

...

There are very few things in life that can silence an entire paddock.

Lando Norris walking in hand-in-hand with you is apparently one of them.

The usual morning commotion—the hurried strides of engineers, the murmured strategy discussions, the distant hum of espresso machines—all of it seems to slow, the air shifting as one by one, heads turn.

Eyes follow you as you move through the paddock, curiosity crackling in the air like static before a storm.Conversations taper off, whispers trailing in your wake, phones discreetly lifted, cameras capturing the moment in real time.

Lando, of course, is unbothered.

If anything, he thrives under the weight of their attention. His grip on your hand remains firm, steady, unwavering, his strides unhurried, his smirk bordering on self-satisfied.

He wants them to see.

It’s deliberate—the way he holds you close, the way his fingers brush over yours in soft, thoughtless patterns, the way his head tilts toward you slightly every time you speak, like you are the only thing worth listening to.

There is no question about what this is.

There is no question about where you belong.

He makes sure of it.

And then, with perfect, almost cinematic timing, he steers you toward McLaren hospitality.

Right to the coffee bar.

The barista from yesterday stands behind the counter, the same sharp-cut uniform, the same perfectly applied lipstick, the same calculating gaze.

Only now, it falters.

She sees Lando before she sees you, her posture straightening, professional mask slipping into place like second nature. But then, her eyes flick toward you—toward your hands intertwined, toward the subtle, unspoken intimacy of the way he keeps close.

You watch as realization dawns.

Oh.

Lando leans against the counter, effortless, grinning.

"Two oat lattes," he says, voice bright, easy, amused. "One for me, one for my girl."

The silence that follows is exquisite.

The barista hesitates—just for a fraction of a second, just long enough for you to see it.

Panic.

"Of course," she says, voice smooth but not quite as sharp as before.

And just like that, there are no shortages, no waiting, no excuses.

The coffees are made within seconds.

Lando watches, humming thoughtfully, tapping his fingers lightly against the counter as she slides the first cup toward him. He lifts it to his lips, taking a slow, exaggerated sip before letting out a long, obnoxiously satisfied hum.

"Mm," he muses, shifting his weight, sparing her a glance. "Tastes better today."

His smirk is dangerous.

"Must be the service."

The barista’s lips press together just slightly.

You take your coffee, cradling the cup in your hands, offering her a soft, serene smile.

"Thank you," you say lightly.

You watch as she winces.

And Lando, the ever-efficient instigator that he is, takes it one step further.

"You know," he muses, as if the thought has just occurred to him, "I think I should make this a tradition."

He turns to you then, eyes bright with mischief, voice just loud enough for the surrounding staff to hear.

"Morning coffee," he says smoothly. "Every race weekend. For the foreseeable future."

The barista looks like she wants to disappear.

You, on the other hand, can’t help but smile.

...

The checkered flag had waved, the roar of the crowd still vibrating through the air, but none of it mattered—not the celebrations, not the flashing cameras, not the McLaren team swarming the pit wall in victory.

Because the moment Lando climbed out of the car, eyes scanning the chaos, he found you.

And then—he ran.

Straight toward you, helmet discarded, race suit half-unzipped, curls a disheveled mess from the heat of the cockpit.

You barely have time to react before he collides into you, arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

You shriek—an actual, real shriek—as your feet leave the pavement, the entire world tilting as he spins you in circles,laughter spilling from his lips like he can’t contain it.

And then—he kisses you.

Right there, in front of thousands of fans, in front of cameras, reporters, his entire team.

Hard. Fierce. Like he’d won the race and you in the same breath.

The world erupts around you—cheering, chanting, Oscar groaning dramatically in the background.

"Oh my god. You two are disgusting."

None of it matters.

Because Lando is grinning against your lips, breathless, victorious, yours.

When he finally sets you back down, he doesn’t let go.

Doesn’t even try to.

Instead, he beams down at you, cheeks flushed, curls damp with sweat, voice all cocky, all Lando.

"So, did I impress you or what?"

You roll your eyes, fond and exasperated all at once. "Eh. You were alright."

He gasps. Actually gasps.

"You’re joking." He turns toward the cameras, mock-betrayed. "Did you guys hear that? I win a Grand Prix, and she says I’m ‘alright.’"

You bite your lip, pretending to consider. "You were pretty fast, I guess."

"Pretty fast?" he repeats, positively scandalized. "Babe. I am literally the fastest man in Australia right now."

You burst out laughing. "I was kind of rooting for Oscar."

Oscar, mid-drink of water behind you, chokes.

"Lies." Lando pulls you back in, forehead resting against yours, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for you.

"Say you’re proud of me."

You sigh dramatically. "I guess I’m—"

"Say it."

You grin, heart pounding. "Fine. I’m proud of you, Norris."

He hums, satisfied, smug, still absolutely glowing. "Thought so."

...

Lando was still riding the high when he got to the media pen, his race suit unzipped to his waist, curls damp with sweat, and that stupidly charming grin still plastered across his face.

It wasn’t just a ‘first win of the season’ grin.

It was a ‘my girlfriend is here, and I just won a whole-ass race for her’ grin.

The interviewer barely got a word in before Lando pointed directly at you, standing just off-camera.

"Her."

You blink. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!" He turns back to the cameras, nodding enthusiastically. "Let’s just get this straight—I did this for her. Like, entirely. One hundred percent. Full motivation. If she hadn’t shown up, I probably would’ve parked it in a gravel trap on lap ten."

The interviewer laughed. "So, you’re saying she’s your good luck charm?"

"Absolutely," Lando replied, dead serious. "I mean, have you seen her? Look at her."

The camera did not pan to you, thank god. The poor guy running the live feed probably had no idea what to do.

But Lando? Oh, he was just getting started.

"She walked into this paddock today looking like an actual goddess, completely unaware that she is, in fact, the sun incarnate, and people want me to talk about tire degradation? No. I want to talk about her."

The interviewer tried so hard to stay professional.

"You—uh, you had great pace today—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Lando waved him off.

"Lando, I don’t think—"

"Listen, I need to emphasize something." Lando leaned in, tone conspiratorial. "Do you know how lucky I am? Not only is she breathtaking, but she’s also, like, annoyingly smart. Like, did you know she reads all the time? Real books.Not just memes and Twitter threads like me."

He gestured vaguely, suddenly overwhelmed by his own emotions.

"She doesn’t even realize how much people admire her. But I see it. I see everything. And I just think the world needs to start appreciating her at my level."

"That is… very sweet." The interviewer was visibly struggling to keep up.

"Just had to get that out there."

"Well, congratulations on the win, Lando," the interviewer finally managed, skimming over his list of unanswered questions he had prepared.

"Thank you." He nodded seriously, finally letting go of the mic. "And big thanks to the team, of course."

You rolled your eyes from behind the cameras, suppressing a smile.

...

The internet had seen many things, but no one was prepared for Lando Norris using his post-race interview as a full-blown love letter.

"Lando’s race pace was great, but his girlfriend propaganda was even stronger."

"THE WAY HE JUST POINTED AT HER IMMEDIATELY I CAN’T."

"Lando Norris said ‘this win is for my girlfriend’ and proceeded to recite a romantic sonnet on live TV. My standards are ruined."

Later, as the two of you curled up in the hotel room, finally away from the cameras, Lando buried his face in your neck with a content sigh.

"You know," he murmured, voice sleepy, warm, full of love. "I really did win that for you."

You ran your fingers through his curls. "I know."

"I meant every word, too."

You smiled. "Don't you think it was a bit much?"

"I don't think it was nearly enough," he said, already half-asleep, grinning like he had never been happier.

#f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #lando norris #lando norris x you

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blessedmisery · 3 days ago

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DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH ME BABY!

✰ pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader ✰ summary: after several sexless months of a very vanilla marriage, nanami kento learns how his slutty wife actually likes to be fucked. wc; 4.1k ✰ warnings: food play, a tiny bit of ass play, dirty talk, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names, very light bondage, hair pulling, some very sweet after care, nanami is soo addicted to his wife, honestly just pure filth. 18+ MDNI

your sex life with your husband was basically dead—buried so deep, it felt like it might never come back.

i mean, you shouldn't be surprised right? when you got married, everyone warned you it would be this way. “just wait until the honeymoon phase is over”, “wait until work gets in the way”, “wait until you start sleeping in separate beds” they told you. although you thankfully hadn’t made it to the third phase yet, you didn't believe them—at least not at first.

the first few months of your marriage felt purely euphoric—like a drug you just couldn't get enough of. you were bathing in the seemingly never ending marital bliss, convinced that nothing could have come between you and your husband— at least not when the two of you were fucking like animals in heat, absolutely devouring each other no matter where the pair of you were. well, it seems life has a way of being deceiving, doesn't it?

so here you were, only one year into your marriage and somehow, sex had completely fallen off your marriage itinerary. you don’t even know how it happened. your work lives took over, and the honeymoon rush had slowly but surely died out. your daily orgasms slowly turned into weekly orgasms which eventually turned into none. the number of times you and your husband have had sex in the last few months has been a big, fat, zero. your revised daily routine now looked a little like this: wake up, breakfast, work, dinner, sleep. exciting right?

kento was a very busy man—you couldn't blame him. he was always working overtime, always being pushed past his limits by his boss and always coming home completely and utterly exhausted. but that didn't change the stark reality—your marriage had become painfully sexless, and severely depressing. and you’d endured months of this silent, dry torture before you finally stepped up and decided you had had enough.

you and nanami were a picture perfect couple—that much was obvious from just looking at the two of you. you had the perfect wedding, the perfect house and perfect vanilla sex. though, despite its initial merits, clearly it hadn't gotten you very far—not if you found yourself so sexless this early into your marriage.

you couldn't let your marriage go down like this, you simply wouldn't. something had to change; you both knew that. the only question was, who would be the one to fix it first? so, you finally mustered up the courage to tell your husband you were sick and tired of the drought, and you were more than ready to break this invisible wall which had stood between you two for months.

when you told nanami that you wanted him to fuck you nasty, whenever and however he pleased without so much as a warning— naturally, his cock hardened, and nanami had displayed the rarest of his facial expressions: shock. though, despite his obvious shock, he was just as desperate to bridge the painful distance between the two of you.

so, of course he agreed— because nanami kento was not one to deny his beautiful wife.

and then it began—the waiting game. a semblance of hope finally returned as a light in your plain, boring days and the thrill of the unknown had you going absolutely feral. not knowing when and if he was going to fuck you had you living through your day to day life in a constant state of need and arousal. you finally felt yourself getting closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel where a long, loving marriage awaited you.

it had only been two days since your conversation when he walked into your shared apartment after work, and saw you standing behind the kitchen island in the tiniest, sluttiest white dress, preparing his favorite after dinner dessert—apple pie. what a perfect, thoughtful wife you were.

you looked up from the recipe book to see him standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and overworked as usual but, also looking remarkably handsome in his clean suit. gosh. he had just walked through the door and already your warm and wet arousal was settling comfortably in your panties.

“hi kento, how was work?” you asked softly, your lips pulled into a light smile.

“tiring” he replied, his voice an octave deeper than normal. he must have worked very hard if he sounded this exhausted, you thought. his bag dropped to the ground with a thud and he took his shoes off followed by his blazer, leaving just his dress shirt and pants on. you watched him intently as he walked over to where you stood behind the kitchen island, rolling up his sleeves and throwing his tie on the marble surface.

you flinched as he wrapped his big arms around your waist, welcoming the warm yet unexpected touch. he nuzzled his stubbly face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses along its delicate skin. you let out small, pathetic whimpers, feeling another rush of heat settle in your core. your slick would start dripping through your panties and onto the floor if you didn't fix this soon.

“my dear wife, i didn’t know you were so dirty” he mumbled into the sensitive flesh of your neck, lightly nibbling at it, and leaving a trail of wet kisses down it’s stretch. fuck. why had the two of you ever stopped doing this in the first place?

“w-what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly, already feeling worked up from his minor act of intimacy. he inhaled your sweet vanilla scent—relishing in it, before he spoke up.

“yes kento, i want to be fucked” he started, while slowly snaking his fingers down the side of your dress. “whenever you want, however you want” he finished, mocking you sweetly with your own filthy words from just days ago. he was playing with you, baiting you—and you were falling right into his waiting hands.

his fingers met with your soaked panties as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, feeling him rub slow, lazy, teasing circles on your clothed clit, leaving you wishing you skipped the panties entirely when you got dressed this morning.

“is that not what you told me just a few days ago, my dear?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, watching you in amusement as you squirmed under his light touch. he’d barely given you anything yet your head was already clouded with arousal, making you literally tremble with need. dirty, dirty girl. “mhmmm” you hummed in response, not bothering to utter any words. not when you were so busy relishing in your husbands sweet proximity—a proximity you hadn’t felt for months.

“if i had known my wife was such a slut—” he said, slowly moving your wet panties aside with two long fingers “maybe we would’ve never had this issue in the first place” he finished, his deep, velvety voice sending little shivers racing across your skin. you closed your eyes, letting out sweet little mewls and whimpers while he toyed with your drenched pussy.

“k-kento” you moaned, desperate for more. it just wasn't enough. after so many celibate months, you were brimming with need, ready to burst at any given moment.

“yes baby? what is it?” his coo was sweet and honeyed. he toyed with you like a doll, teasingly pushing his fingers in and out of you, slowly pushing each and every coherent thought out of your mind, leaving you in a hazy, blur of need.

“ah— i n-need more” you whined pathetically in response, reaching a trembling hand up to the nape of his neck while your knuckles turned white on the other from your desperate grip on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“more what sweetheart? use your words for me” he practically purred in your ear, his voice a soft caress. the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you like this.

he pressed himself closer against you, removing your dress strap from your shoulder to give himself easier access to your tits. you bit your lip, desperately stifling your moans as he seized a handful of your breast, kneading and teasing the supple flesh, his fingers rolling your nipple with a torturous precision. fuck him.

"p-please kento, want you t-to make me feel g-good" you let out, voice shallow and breathy. your whines and moans were music to his ears, and he vowed they would be the only sound he ever craved to hear again.

you let yourself surrender to the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body as nanami pumped two of his thick, long fingers in and out of you. god, what a sight you were for him—eyes squeezed shut, rosy-cheeked and completely breathless. until this moment, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed in these last few sexless, stressful months he had lived through.

you whimpered a desperate plea as your husband pulled his fingers out, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. no, he was not going to give it to you that easy— especially not after this long of a wait. he turned you around to face him, and in one swift motion, lifted you onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble cooling the burning, aroused skin of your thighs. you felt a strong, big hand grab your waist while the other rest on the soft skin of your cheek. he looked at you through lust filled, hazel eyes—admiring his irresistible wife.

growing impatient, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. "kento" you breathed against his lips, desperate for more of his attention. no matter how much he gave you, you felt it would never be enough to make up for all the time you missed with your husband.

he kissed you softly, mapping every inch of your mouth with his wet tongue. you flinched, as he caught your lip between his teeth, teasingly biting down and nibbling on it before pulling away and leaving you whining and aching all over again. removing his hand from your cheek, he reached his arm around you and picked up the bottle of whipped cream that stood with the rest of the pie ingredients.

"my dear wife, when was the last time you made me this pie? the day after our wedding?" he chuckled deeply, studying the can in his hands.

"thought you'd like it" you mumbled, embarrassed by his mocking tone. you'd never seen him like this. his expression was one—in all your years of dating and one year of marriage—you've never seen him display. he looked hungry. a hunger that went beyond satisfying his human needs—this hunger looked feral, almost primal and he looked ready to do whatever it took to satisfy it.

nanami took a step back, opening your legs further apart to give him a better view of all your sweetest parts. you watched him flick the cap off the whipped cream can, buzzing with impatience as you waited for his next move. a strong hand pushed the fabric of your skimpy linen dress up to your waist, and you almost jumped when he sprayed some on your leg.

"ah- kento, what are you doing?" you gasped, looking down at your bare thigh, where a cute little heart of whipped cream was now drawn.

"apologizing to my sweet wife" he muttered, placing the can back down on the counter. he leaned his head down to your thigh, one of your hands instantly tangling itself in his hair. that's right. this is how nanami kento would apologize for all your missed orgasms—for unknowingly denying his wife.

his tongue met with your leg and he began slowly dragging it up and down the skin of your thigh, licking up all the cream that sat in the shape of a heart. a soft moan escaped your parted lips, and you tugged on his hair to pull his head up despite him not being finished.

"dear husband, when did you become so dirty?" you echoed his earlier words right back at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you locked eyes with his ravenous gaze. there it was, that hunger— that pure look of desire which you hoped would never disappear from his eyes. marriage was hard but in this moment you were both convinced that doing this every night, would make it feel effortless. nanami only smirked lightly before diving his head back down to meet your trembling thigh. that's right, he had you trembling with need—that's how desperate you were for his touch.

strong hands held your thigh down as he finished licking the heart of whipped cream on your leg. this was an interesting way to apologize to say the least. he lifted himself up, locking eyes with you as he slowly licked the last traces of cream from his lips. holy fuck, you almost came from the sight alone.

moving his hands, he pulled your dress over your head, leaving you in just your skimpy, soaked, panties. "so beautiful" he rasped, drinking you in with just his gaze while grabbing the can and getting to work on your tits. you giggled, watching him spray two hearts of whipped cream, one around each of your nipples.

"baby you- ah" the words died on your lips as he began licking the cream, finishing off with a light nibble that had your toes curling from pleasure. with a groan, he worked his way to the other one, sending chills down your spine and whimpers past your lips. one thing was for sure—nanami knew exactly what he was doing. and he wasn't going to stop.

"please" you whined desperately— impatiently. nanami was holding you on the brink of release, dangling your orgasm right in front of you before ripping it right back when you were about to finish. it was fucking frustrating.

so many nights, while nanami stayed late at work, you lay in your shared bed, desperate and aching, your fingers working tirelessly—trying, and failing, to replicate the feeling of his. little did you know that your dear husband spent his time in similar ways. in the late hours of the night while you were soundly asleep, he stood in the giant two person shower of your shared bathroom, hand wrapped around his veiny cock, warm water streaming down his body, pumping himself endlessly. he tried, he really tried. but nothing—nothing could compare to the addictive pleasure that came from your warm, tight walls clenching around his cock or the heavenly feeling of your soft, wet lips wrapping him so sweetly. yes, it was safe to say you were both very desperate and very frustrated.

"you wanted it nasty baby, that's exactly how i'll give it to you" he groaned in your ear moments before you were flipped face down onto the counter, toes barely touching the floor. you had awakened something inside him, and now that you'd gotten a taste of this nanami, you never wanted to go back.

you craned your neck to look back at him, watching him unbutton his now crumpled white dress shirt. he met your gaze, smiling at you while he reached beside you to grab his tie. you had never reacted to your husband this viscerally before. just the mere sight of him was intoxicating, leaving your head light and hazy, as if you were drunk on his presence alone.

he moved your hands behind your back, crossing them over each other before binding them together with his tie. a light moan escaped you, and you wiggled your hands, getting a feel for the restraint.

"spread your legs" he ordered, his suddenly stern and commanding voice only fueling the desperate throb between your thighs. you obeyed, stepping your toes further apart to allow him to stand between your legs.

you'd never thought you'd be this pliable, this eager to please. but here you were, pushed against the marble counter, wrists tied and ready to fulfill any of his wishes and demands—no matter how filthy. nanami held a dangerous level of control over you and your body, and the thought of wanting it any other way terrified you. surely this is what addiction felt like.

you flipped your head over to the other side, enjoying the cooling feeling of the marble against your burning cheek while you watched him pick up his handy whipped cream once again. guess he wasn't done with that huh.

"kento" you whined, indulging in the slow, sweet pleasure but impatiently needing more than just the teasing he was giving you. it wasn't fair. you had waited long enough.

"ah ah, so impatient, my dear wife" he clicked his tongue, grabbing hold of your wrists. you shuddered slightly when you felt the cold whipped cream meet with your tight holes. oh. he placed the can down, and got on his knees, still holding your bound wrists tightly with one hand and squishing the flesh of your soft thighs with the other. he dragged his tongue up all the way from your clit to your ass, licking up the string of cream he had drawn on you just moments before.

god, this man was filthy. his tongue lingered around your rear entrance, licking playful circles around it and prodding it with his tongue. the initially foreign feeling slowly grew on you, shooting warm pulses of pleasure through every vein in your body and deep into your aching core.

he dragged his tongue away from your tight ring, lapping up the last bits of cream left around your drenched cunt. you clenched your fists, desperate to hold something—anything to help you cope with the overwhelming pleasure you felt.

"kento— e-enough, i need you inside me" you uttered, unable to contain your restless, writhing need for him any longer.

"fine, if my beautiful wife so desires" he replied lazily, letting out a low laugh. you heard him unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the ground while he unzipped his pants. finally.

"my dirty, filthy wife" he muttered, idly pumping his hard, veiny cock with one hand. before you could protest, his fat, leaking tip found itself at your seeping entrance, prodding the wet flesh around it. you heard him suck in a sharp breath, a low hiss slipping from his lips as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you so wide that your eyes fluttered to the back of your head.

"nngh- ah" you moaned at the feeling of his tip reaching your cervix. he was sheathed inside you, waiting for your quivering body to adjust to his thick length. nanami was huge—there was no denying it. no matter how many times you had taken his cock, it was always an adjustment for you.

wiggling your hips, you tried to get as comfortable as you could on the hard, white marble countertop while he started slowly moving his cock in and out of you. "i-i haven't ah-adjusted" you whined, needing more time to get used to him. after all, the months of fucking yourself with your small fingers were nothing compared to your husbands cock.

but nanami only said, "you can take it" whilst speeding up to an almost frantic pace. you felt like you were going to fucking break. but don't say you didn't ask for this. you exposed your most vulnerable self to your husband just days before, begging to be treated like this. so yeah, you asked for it. and he was only doing what his wife desired.

nanami began to question his sanity. he never cracked under pressure, no matter the circumstance, but he felt his once strong grasp on his self control now slipping through his fingers. yup. this felt almost too good to be real—like he was either high on the most potent drug or finally losing his damn mind. he couldn't recall the last time he'd ever felt like this—not even during all the other times you had sex. you just felt that good in this moment.

each thrust had you crying out and clenching around him tighter and tighter—reassuring you that this marriage could be saved, that your sex life was not dead forever. your mind was swimming in pleasure and pain, the head of his cock kissed your cervix so roughly yet so sweetly. you silently said your final goodbyes to the sweet, innocent, vanilla versions of yourselves, and welcomed this new beginning for your marriage. you wanted this version of nanami for the rest of your life.

he fisted a handful of your hair, quite literally pulling you out of your lustful haze. nanami wrapped the strands around his hand once, securing you in place—not that you had any intention of being anywhere else anyway.

"fuck- baby you feel so fucking good" he growled from behind you, his breaths slowing into heavier, raspier ones. push. pull. push. that's what this fucking felt like. your scalp ached from the strong pull on your hair and your pussy throbbed from how hard he fucked you. your bodies fused together, connecting with each of his slams inside of you.

"nngh k-kento gonna c-cum" you stuttered out. he had you so fucked out on his cock you were barely able to even think, let alone form a sentence. it was fucking pathetic.

"yeah- f-fuck come for me" his voice came out in a ragged breath and his erratic pace began to slow into a more languid, agonizing one. he couldn't help himself—he wanted, no— needed to feel every single muscle along your tight walls clench around his cock. nothing felt better than this.

a desperate cry ripped from your throat as your entire body tensed, the long built up pressure in your core finally snapping free. your breath hitched, and you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation, finally unraveling around him. your walls clenched and throbbed, milking his cock with every pulsating wave of pleasure that coursed through your body.

"that's it, good girl" nanami purred behind you, feeling his cock throb deep inside you— the unmistakable sign of his climax finally reaching him. he went still, letting his cum spill out inside of you as he came down from his high. he gently untangled his hand from your hair letting your head drop back down onto the counter top.

your eyes were shut and your body was limp. there was no way that you’d be able to get up and walk around— at least not for a while. you felt your husband finally pull out of you, hearing him buckle his pants back up. warm hands met with your still trembling body, and he gently flipped you over, scooping your body up into his arms. not a single word would come out of you. you were fucking spent.

“my love” he whispered softly, placing you onto the plush bed of your shared bedroom. you looked up at him through half lidded, blurry eyes. “hm?” you hummed out, hoping that was enough of an answer for him.

“let’s take a bath” he said simply and you nodded in response. you could use a warm soothing bath right about now. he stalked into the bathroom and you heard the water turn on. he came out naked moments later, and picked you up off the bed, carrying your limp, exhausted body to the bathroom.

he lowered himself in, and you followed, sitting in between his thighs, his huge frame towering over you from behind. he pushed you lightly to sit up and you obeyed, tilting your head backwards to give him easier access to your hair. he began running his long fingers through the strands, untangling the little knots that resulted from his pulling earlier. you hummed lightly at the feeling, enjoying this small, sweet act of intimacy.

he moved his hands down to your shoulders momentarily, placing light, wet kisses on each one, and a few down the length of your back. “you did so good for me” he whispered sweetly, his gentle praise sending a rush of warmth through you.

god. you loved your husband. he was so caring and so tender, and moments like these made sure to remind you of that. you hoped you’d never have to experience another drought in your marriage like that again and you would do anything to make sure it stayed the way it was in this very moment.

“kento?” you spoke up softly, eyes still closed and head thrown back as he began to lather your hair with your vanilla scented shampoo. “yes my love?” he asked in response, waiting to hear what you mustered up all your remaining strength to say.

“i didn't finish baking the pie" you said, letting out a soft laugh. so much for being thoughtful.

he let out a deeply chuckle in return, recalling how adorable you looked, baking in a cute little white dress. he'd never eat his favorite pie again if it meant sex like that for the rest of his life.

he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered "it's okay, i already had my favorite dessert"

a/n: holy shit if u made it this far thank you so much for reading. this ended up being wayyyyyy longer than i planned it to be but i had such a good time with this <3

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jjjjisun · 2 days ago

Text

My Playmate, My Sister

Hanni X Male Reader | 8566 words

TW: Incest

—

I'll be honest, growing up with a sister like mine was no cakewalk. It was abundantly clear that my sister, Hanni, was destined for some form of modeling from the moment she started developing her killer body in her early years. All throughout high school she had the attention and longing gazes of every boy, man and even some women there. As I went through my freshman year, lusting after any bit of female I could grasp, I was constantly teased about my senior sister's looks and how much every one of my friends would love to "bang her."

Now I won't lie and say I didn't notice; after all, I was in the peak of my sexual desires too. However, my thoughts never strayed beyond the occasional hope to see her coming out of the shower or undressing in her room. I did get a peek every once in a while, but it was all innocent and never got out of hand. Luckily for me, Hanni was incredibly wholesome and modest about her looks, having a few lucky boyfriends here and there but largely displaying her beauty in tolerable amounts. So even though I had to stare down or ignore someone for the occasional comment about Hanni's "hot ass and tits," I never felt embarrassed by any of her actions.

I suppose I should probably tell you what she really looks like. Aside from a body that looks to be sculpted from marble, she is about 5'3" weighing just over 100 lbs. She has 24" waist and from inspecting some of her more seductive lacey bras in the laundry is done I know her breasts measured a full 32C which I wanted nothing more than to at least any chance I could get. She has the most gorgeous eyes, more green than hazel, framed by a cute, freckled face and tiny chin. To top it all off she has the perfect shade of blonde hair with dark streaks, which she wears in a variety of styles mostly with long bangs swept across her face.

Unfortunately, in high school I was a shrimpy little kid, never really breaking 130 lbs. until my senior year, when I finally came into my own. So when Hanni brought her usual slough of beautiful friends around, I was always just her little brother to them. It didn't matter to Hanni though, she was a bit nerdy like me and was always willing to play a video game or two or watch a movie late at night. She even got me with a few pretty girls if she knew their older sister or invited me to a party she could maneuver me around. She and I got along well, and even though we didn't interact much at school, we have always been good friends. After she went away to college across the country we separated a bit, but whenever we were both together we were thick as thieves.

But things changed for her early in Hanni's Junior year of college. As I walked through a convenience store on my way to the train home from school, I caught the top of a Playboy on the clearance rack behind the counter.

"I'll be damned if that doesn't look just like Hanni's face," I thought, not even realizing what that would mean if it really was her.

I asked for the copy, and after I showed my 19 year-old driver's license to the cashier and a sideways glance, he handed it to me. The photo on the cover, now many months old, was definitely in Playboy's usual style, airbrushed and photo-shopped to an almost unrecognizable degree, but I was 95% certain it was my sister. She was body-painted in the same colors as her college, Oregon State, and displaying what I had always known to be her fan-fucking-tastic form. I had no time to dwell on it, however, as my friends were all waiting so I shoved the Playboy into my backpack, paid and headed outside. I could barely focus on getting to the train and then home, and I don't think I said a word for the whole ride to my stop 30 minutes away.

I was in shock; "would Hanni really do that? She's always been adventurous but this is totally different," I thought.

When I finally got home I made for my room as fast as I could after a quick catch-up on the day with my Mom. As I pulled out the magazine and that's when I knew for sure, the beauty on the front cover was my sister. I thumbed through the pages and opened up to a her spread, not even thinking of the taboo implications. There she was, for all the world to see, and what a sight it was. She was going by the name Hanni Jean Underwood, obviously not the same as our family name. She was every guy's wet dream, clearly the best looking in the entire magazine, and she was my sister. I had to say it in my head a few times before it really set in, and after a cold shower I pulled out my phone and decided to text my sister.

"Hey Hanni, anything new," I wrote.

A few long minutes later, I received:

Hanni: "Nope, nothing really, I'm coming home Friday, a week early for summer, though!,"

Me: "That's cool, is something going on?"

Hanni: "Just felt a little overwhelmed is all."

Me: "Anything you want to talk about?"

Hanni: "We can catch up when I get home in a few days, okay?"

Me: "Sure, I miss you."

Hanni: "Miss you too!"

Soon enough it was Friday and I was nervous to see my big sister so soon after the recent development. I decided to do a little research online, and I wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. A quick search of her name brought a whole bunch of results, at least three photo shoots - all stemming from the fact that she had apparently been crowned playmate of the month in July. I clicked on each gallery and scanned the page, seeing my sister laid out in a bunch of unbelievably sexy poses in all states of undress. I couldn't help it, the pictures were turning me on. I imagined her laid out on the window-bench in my room, looking at me straight in the eye as she pulled her top off, light glancing off her just like it did in the pictures. In my daze I didn't even hear the sound of my sister clamoring up the stairs, and then standing at my open door, seeing clearly what I had found.

"Okay, now I know what that text was about," she said as I clicked out of the browser at the speed of light. "No point in pretending now, we obviously are going to have to talk about this."

I just stared at her, she was different than the last I saw of her about 8 months before that. She was tan, her hair was better than it had ever looked, and she was in the best shape of her life. Even her clothes were thin and more revealing than ever, and after looking at the pictures on my computer, I realized I would never see her the same again.

"Come here and give me a hug first, I've had a long day of travelling," she said with fatigue thick in her voice.

At 19 years old, I was a full 6'0" and taking good care of my body had left me at 180 lbs. with a decent shot with women. I walked up, towering over her now, and she sank into my arms. Maybe it was what I had just seen on the computer, her clothes, or maybe it was something she was doing on purpose, but every part of her seemed to be pressed against me. I could feel the swell of those amazing breasts pressing against my chest, and my hands around her felt a toned backside most girls dreamed of.

"You've really grown," Hanni said, leaning most of her weight into me as she ran her hands innocently over me.

We hadn't seen much of each other the previous summer as she was working (at Hooter's I later learned) near her school in Oregon. That and the 8 or so months of school had given me plenty of time to grow, gaining an inch or two and a ton of manly muscle, if I didn't say so myself.

She moved away from me and looked into my eyes, saying "I need you to be calm about this, and to please not talk to Mom or Dad about it until I'm ready."

Still slightly aroused, I pulled myself together, "Okay, but you have to tell me all about it at least."

She eagerly agreed. We sat in my room, the loving brother half of me paying attention to her story of how she was found in a little Playboy talent search I had seen on the cover of that fateful magazine and how the feedback on her first photos was so good they decided to make her Playmate of the Month. The other half of me could not stop thinking of what I had seen and how this beautiful specimen in front of me could be seen by anybody in the heart-stopping galleries online, and that she was my sister!

"...so what do you say?" I snapped back in. After a short pause she knew I hadn't heard the question.

"I know this is a lot to handle, but let's just do our best to act normally around each other, okay Oppa?"

I agreed of course, and she hopped out of my room, her sculpted little butt swaying a bit as she turned and shot me a slightly mischievous smile.

All things considered, it was pretty normal around the house for the next few days. Our parents were rarely around, busy with their work or fairly hefty social lives, so I didn't have to deal with blurting out our secret to them. Hanni was out visiting friends during the weekend and I was studying for finals, albeit occasionally distracted by the fact that I had a Playboy Playmate living under the same roof. One night as I studied for a relatively easy exam the next day, Hanni came in and we talked for hours, her in tight white tank top and some tiny shorts, teasing me, maybe not so unintentionally, the entire night. She told me she had dropped out a few months ago because things were going so good with Playboy. Then she began to talk about her love life, something that had never really been off limits with us. It was obviously different now to talk about love and relationships and sex, for my mind kept straying to what a man might do with a girl like my sister in the privacy of their own room.

"I can't relate to any of the guys I am meeting, they all are kind of slimy and just want me because of my photos. I miss being with a guy who might actually care about me, and I miss the sex too," she said, blushing and looking down, missing the wide-eyed look I had on my face.

I told her about some of the girls I had dated, and even noted a hint of bitterness as I named a few girls she apparently didn't approve of. She curled up in my arms as we talked through all of the changes in both our lives and we fell asleep together, laying a comfortable distance apart.

When I awoke I felt like a million dollars, warm and cozy and ready to get up and shower before my test. Slowly waking I realized the coziness came from the gorgeous girl I was now tightly spooning and who had wrapped herself around one each of my arms and legs. It was both loving and arousing, and I realized my hand was gently resting in the middle of her perfect chest. I tried to slowly move out of position but she only latched onto me more, pushing my hand further into her soft, cotton-covered breasts. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before I hardened fully and she would easily be able to feel it. That worry disappeared as she closed the space between us and nestled her tight bottom right over my shaft.

"Mmmmmh, good morning Oppa," she said softly, wiggling a bit as she turned her head to look at me.

It was excruciating to resist the urge to thrust forward between her cheeks. There was that suggestive smile again.

"I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time, I am so glad to finally be back," she whispered.

"How long will you be staying? Are you going to have to leave for any more shoots soon?" I asked quietly, trying not to move or address the fact that I was aroused by my sister.

"Actually, there is talk about making me Playmate of the Year, but I don't think I stack up to the competition. Either way, I have another shoot in a few weeks," Hanni said, turning to face me and finally relieving the pressure on my growing problem.

I paused, appearing deep in thought, "Yeah, I wouldn't count on it." I said sarcastically, making a funny face at her as her mouth dropped, insulted.

In mock anger she rolled on top of me, battering my chest with playful blows as she straddled me, both of us laughing as I grabbed her wrists with one arm and tickled her always sensitive sides with the other. As she twisted to avoid my prying fingers, her hips ground lightly down on my still slightly enlarged member, and I could hardly focus on the tickling for all of the pleasure it was causing me.

The wrestling intensified, both of us breathing hard between laughs and feeling her lithe body against mine. Our play continued, and I rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed with her hands above her head. Her tank top had ridden up by now, revealing a mouth-watering abdomen and her bottoms were scrunched up towards her waist. She panted beneath me and arched her back, trying to push me off of her and once again forcing herself against my engorged cock. Still holding her down I moved my mouth to her abdomen and blew, making a funny sound like I used to when we were just kids. The subtle scent of her body wash and perfume lingered and she squealed as I rubbed the morning whiskers of facial hair on her smooth skin.

Displaying that she had obviously been working out, she somehow gained leverage over me and flipped back on top, her legs interlocked with mine, straddling my thigh. I could swear I felt faint yet rhythmic thrusts against my leg with her nimble frame squashed against my chest. I could feel her warm breath on my ear and she finally sat up raising her arms in victory as I gave up, exhausted. If I hadn't been so entranced with our arousing battle, I might have noticed her nipples standing proudly and entirely visible through the soft cotton of her tank top.

Our horseplay ended, and as I looked up at her with her abdomen and firm breasts heaving from our tussle, I knew then that she would undoubtedly win Playmate of the Year. It was almost as if she read it on my face, because she gave me a little peck on the lips and hopped off, maintaining the innocence our little slumber party had began with. She had the walk of an angel and she once again smiled at me as she bounced out, swinging around the frame of the door and out of sight. I laid there for a few minutes, trying to pull myself together and shake off any further thoughts of the hottest woman I had ever laid eyes on; it was no easy task.

As I worked through my exam, my thoughts occasionally strayed to Hanni, wondering what was going on and if I was out of my mind for thinking of her as any more than a sister. The exam was as easy as I thought it would be, so I finished and returned home early. When I got back my sister was at the fridge, deep in thought, biting on her finger as she always did. Dressed in tiny jean shorts and an oversized football jersey, tied at the waist and hanging slightly over one shoulder, I thought of she now seemed to know exactly what to wear to complement her figure. I scolded myself inwardly for then thinking it would be better if she wore less.

"Oooh, you scared the shit out of me," she said as she jumped and the jersey fell the rest of the way down her shoulder, revealing the strap of a black bra beneath.

I wanted to ravish her on the kitchen table right then and there as she turned her head and cocked her hips, playing at my desires.

"I was just going to make us both lunch, how did your test go?"

I told her about it as I sat at the table and she prepared lunch, slapping my hand away a few times that I reached for some little morsels.

"I've been taking cooking classes," she told me, "It's funny because I'm finally doing all the things I want to do, maybe I wasn't cut out for college anyway."

"You're nuts Hanni," I fired back, "you have always been the smartest girl I know, and are probably still the only female who can beat me in any game on the Xbox.... you're amazing."

She glowed in response to my comment her striking eyes locking onto mine, "I love you so much Oppa."

We ate and chatted about this and that, and I realized that even though Playboy Playmate status had taken her from a hot young girl to a to-die-for image on the page of a magazine, we still got on as well as ever.

"So I was thinking," she interjected, "I've got to go to this club tonight and shake hands with a bunch of the higher-ups of Playboy here, but I don't really want to go alone. They might be a little weirded out if I brought my brother, but do you think you might want to go as my date?"

"I mean, sure, if you think that's okay," I fired back, excited but nervous.

"Of course it is," said Hanni happily, "I'd just love to have someone to hold on to, it can be kind of intimidating considering the nature of the work."

She told me a little more about the night and what was in store, some dancing, some drinking and of course some more playmates - which I obviously couldn't complain about. The rest of the day went on with little consequence, we watched a movie together and caught up on some work individually.

After I had thrown on a nice button-up and dress pants I went and sat on the couch and waited for Hanni, who was never on time. When the doorbell rang and I hopped up to answer it, I was surprised to see a expensive-looking limousine sitting in the driveway.

"We should be going sir, wouldn't want to keep Hanni's employers waiting." said the driver.

Just then, the click of heels on hardwood alerted us that Hanni was finally ready to go. As I looked up I nearly collapsed, and so did the driver. Hanni wore a red, slightly shimmering dress, cut low between her breasts and high on her thighs. Her cleavage was so perfect I could die happy right there, the dress seeming to be holding on to it for dear life. It clung to her form and I couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight. As she gracefully stepped down the stairs in her simple but sexy black heels, the driver struggled for words.

"Good e-evening Miss Underwood, I am d-d-david, your driver for tonight."

Hanni was a good sport and thanked David as we walked out the door. As I took the first step out the door, Hanni stopped me and whispered in my ear, causing a tingle to run through my body,

"I think he saw something he liked."

Not to be outdone, I turned and whispered back, "He wasn't the only one."

She squeezed my hand and after she got in the limo, David, who was holding the door said, "You are a lucky man." I knew I was.

Hanni sat close to me the whole ride there and her presence was intoxicating. The night pretty much went as Hanni had described, we sipped on drinks while meeting a whole bunch of people who pretty much jumped over me to get to Hanni as she answered their questions. When all of the connections were finally made, Hanni dragged me toward the bar and said

"I need a shot or two, I almost couldn't stand it anymore."

I agreed and we both winced back two shots of something that was way above my budget, apparently free of charge. Then came playmate introductions. Some were scattered about the dance floor, others at various bars about the classy establishment. I recognized some from television but most were gorgeous and unknown to me. I did, however, notice that almost every one of them paled in comparison to Hanni.

Hanni dragged me onto the dance floor among the beauties and we were innocently spinning each other around and sharing the occasional close moment as the alcohol began to work its magic. Then, as if in a dream, Jessica Burciaga, a crush of mine with whom I had spent a little time flirting with earlier grabbed me for a dance. The beating music, dark atmosphere and ever-present buzz of the alcohol had me confident and forward as the tanned, Latina beauty pushed against me. She was beginning to really get into it, grinding her hips against mine in away only a fiery girl like her could. I was in another universe, doing what every guy always dreams of, and with her hands on top of mine I felt every inch of my long-standing playmate crush.

I obviously wasn't paying attention to much else because it took me a while to notice that Hanni, who was nearby, had found a guy and was dancing against him too. I tried to disregard the immediate pang of jealousy I felt, but it would not go away. Jessica was now doing her most seductive dancing, pulling my body into hers, our breath heavy upon each other, but it wasn't enough to keep me from stealing a glance at my sister across the way. Her dress was catching the little bit of light on the floor and her body was unfathomably sexy as she moved to the music. Once more I looked, and I saw on her face the same jealousy I had felt. Our eyes locked. We stared at each other as the music seemed to get quieter, and our dance partners continued their movement around us. I knew she wanted to be dancing with me at that moment, and I, with her. At the end of the song we thanked our partners, and Jessica planted a kiss on my lips, slipping a note into my pocket and whispering for me to call her.

I approached Hanni, who was now glaring at me and leaning on the bar a few feet away.

"Looks like somebody is having a good time," she said with a bit of an attitude, "you can take the limo home with her if you want, I'm sure I can get another ride."

"Hanni, don't be like that," I said with the best puppy dog eyes I could muster, "I got carried away, besides, it looks like you and Mr. Hands over there were getting along just fine by yourselves."

She loosened up a bit at that comment and looked at me sideways, smirking, "alright, just promise me at least one dance before the night is up killer," she requested with a sweet look on her face.

"Hanni," I said with a hint of seriousness in my voice, "I don't want to dance with anyone else tonight if that's okay with you."

Instead of voicing her approval, she stood on her toes and planted a kiss right on my lips, holding my head in her hands as she did. It only lingered a second, but I saw stars as she pulled away and motioned to the bartender to make us two seven-and-sevens. She leaned over the bar a bit, and the bartender ogled her cleavage as I, on the other end was helpless to the view of her backside, the red cloth stretched thin over it. I wondered if she was wearing any underwear, "maybe not," I thought mischievously.

We took our first sips silently as she batted her eyelashes at me, somewhat embarrassed from the kiss.

"I hope that wasn't your best effort out on the dance floor Hanni," I said with a hint of arrogance, "I don't think Playboy would like it if they knew their new protégé danced like she was at a junior high mixer."

Hurt, Hanni quickly shot back, "oh and I suppose you would have me shaking my ass like that little tart you were dancing with?"

"I'm not saying I wouldn't like it..." I trailed off.

Hanni quickly set down her drink and grabbed my hand as if to say, "I'm done talking about it, let's dance."

She dragged me deep into the crowd of people; it's amazing how you feel more private when surrounded by thick swells of human beings. At first she just pushed me back, swaying to herself and running her hands seductively up and down her flowing curves. My head spun as I watched and I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or my hot older sister moving like she was in front of me. Then she approached me and I wrapped my arms gently around her, careful not to break the rhythmic surging of her body. I began to move with her, running my hands more daringly around her, and I heard a quiet moan into my neck.

She gracefully grabbed my arms and spun herself around, facing away from me and keeping herself enveloped in my grasp. Her style was entirely different from Jessica's, and I couldn't get enough. I savored the feeling of her petite form against mine as she ground he firm ass slowly against me. There was no question why dancing like this had become so popular, her undulations and grinding aroused me more than if she had instead turned and grasped my shaft with her nimble little hands herself. I was no amateur myself, and I moved easily behind her, touching her in all the right places, proud to see many people watching us dance so well together.

We were lost in each other, our heads buzzing from perhaps one too many drinks. I buried my head in her fragrant blonde hair, blowing softly on her neck - a move I had successfully used in the past. We were both so aroused about the fact that nobody knew our true relation that we nearly forgot it ourselves. She leaned back and looked deep into my eyes, my gaze confirming that I felt as strongly as she did. As she turned her head I boldly pressed my lips against hers, tasting a hint of cherry on her lips. I was not entirely surprised when she opened her lips a bit, and her tongue darted out to touch my mine. We broke the kiss about as soon as it started - locking our eyes together as she turned toward me and hugged her close once more.

Then after a few seconds that felt like hours, we ended our pause and were making out like a couple of teenagers. She jumped gracefully into my strong arms and we battled our tongues to see who could display the stronger desire. We were hidden from the outside world by the surging crowd but I could swear our passion caused a good number of couples around us to start engaging in the same activity.

After we were both out of breath and tired of pounding music, we broke our kiss and I said with a witty smile, "what do you think about getting out of here and going back to my place?"

She showed me that beautiful smile of hers and grabbed my hand once again, dragging me outside. I held her in my arms as we waited for the limo, and once inside we made sure the divider was up and she jumped in my lap like there was no time to lose.

Now that we had room to move about our kisses were practiced and still overflowing with desire. She thrust gently against me as I ran my hands up and down her sides, then lightly resting them against the breasts I had so dreamed of seeing. I ran my fingers in circles around her nipples which were protruding stiffly through her red dress. She moaned into my mouth and continued grinding herself against me as she straddled my lap. Not wanting her to do all the work, I gently laid her tiny frame down on the seat and hovered over her.

I teased her, putting my lips just millimeters away from hers and as she snapped up to try and lock hers to mine, I pulled away, concentrating on my hands moving firmly from her legs all the way up to her face. When they reached their destination, I grasped her neck and finally locked lips once again, this time lightly pressing my leg between her thighs. She moaned enthusiastically, barely able to maintain the kiss as I pressed hard and then eased over and over. My fingers moved just below the fabric next to her generous cleavage, wishing my hands were unhindered by the dress. She swelled back against my leg and I continued to massage her body and breasts. Just as she took a deep breath in anticipation of impending orgasm, there was a knock on our tinted window and we realized we had been stopped for some time. I looked down at Hanni and collapsed, both of us laughing at how our arousal had caused us to lose all track of time.

"Not fair," Hanni said, gasping and visibly pissed to be withheld what would have been a fantastic orgasm.

I pulled her up, also unhappy to be leaving the privacy and comfort of the limousine's cabin.

As we left vehicle, the driver said "Goodnight to you Miss Underwood, and to you too sir," giving me a knowing look.

Hanni was none the wiser as she sauntered toward the door, still moping about her suspended pleasure. I thanked the lucky stars that my parents were spending the weekend on a sailboat with friends and I would have the house, and Hanni, all to myself.

When we finally got inside and I shut the door, Hanni pushed my body against it softly with her own.

I looked at her and started in a concerned tone, "Hanni..."

But Hanni put her finger over my lips and stopped me, saying, "I want this, and I know you do too. I am your older sister, I can make my own decisions. Yes, this is technically against the rules, but so is looking at those pictures of me online little brother."

I thought about it for a second, "You've made a few good points."

"Now," she said, a little more demanding than I am used to, "I am going to go upstairs, and if you know what's good for you, I suggest you grab us something to drink, preferably without alcohol, and follow me up in five minutes."

With that, she turned and headed up the stairs without looking back.

I was stunned, and more than a little turned on. My sister had never been so forward in her whole life, but I loved the new her. I grabbed two waters and stood at the counter in the kitchen, taking hold of reality and reveling in how lucky I was. I knew that when I walked up those stairs, I would be spending the night with the most beautiful girl I'd probably ever come across, let alone my sister and a Playboy Playmate unlike any other. With that, I knew that there was no decision to make and my feet took me up the stairs like they had a mind of their own.

Taking a drink, I opened the door and for the second time that night, my sister blew me away. She had been under the covers, but as I opened the door she sat up and proudly showed off her full form. I literally spit out the water I had just drank as I took her in; she giggled, flattered at the reaction. She was wearing a slightly transparent magenta lace bra, which pushed up her ample breasts ever so slightly. Her bottoms were a simple but sexy black cotton that I couldn't wait to rip off.

She motioned to me and said "Come here;"

I walked to the edge of the bed. She crawled on all fours at me like a jungle cat, and equally as graceful. As she came eye to eye with me she took one of the bottles from my hand, opening it and taking a quick drink. She capped it and dropped it nonchalantly to the side, the glistening water still on her lips. She then gave me a slow and sultry kiss, once again holding my head in her hands; I could taste the cool water on her lips.

I placed a knee on the bed and pulled her close to me, once again beginning to slide our tongues against the other. I tried to go as slowly as possible as I laid her down and continued to kiss her deeply, but how could you blame me, with all the skin to explore my hands moved on their own. Up and down they travelled, not wanting to leave an inch of her body unexplored. I kissed her neck as I massaged all over her, and she once again began to pant into my ear, quickly nibbling at it. I couldn't believe how exciting it was to feel her move strongly against me, arching her back and thrusting her hips out to meet mine. My hands cupped her round cheeks and gave them a squeeze; I could feel her smile as we kissed.

My hands finally finished their journey, and one of them moved to the clasp in her bra. I had never been too good at removing a bra, but tonight, I was so hot with luck that I did it in one fluid motion. The fabric loosened, and I slowly walked my fingers along the patterned lace. She loved how much attention I was paying to each part of her; she had thought hard about what to wear for me. I pulled back from her face and looked into her eyes before I knew I'd finally have her naked body before me. The soft glow of the lamp nearby upon her made her all the more beautiful.

"Oppa...I..." she started, but this time it was my turn to quiet her, with a kiss.

She was about to tell me how much she wanted me, how happy I made her, but I already knew, and she let out a breath in relief as I acknowledged it with my kiss.

I ran my hand up one of her arms and placed it above her head, and doing the same with the other I joined them, restraining her harmlessly. With my free hand I gingerly moved her bra up her arms and covered her with my body, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side. She nipped at my lip and caught me off guard, freeing her hands and allowing her to reach for my shirt and nimbly unbutton it faster than I could have myself. She pushed it down my shoulders and off and I kissed her once again, our partial nakedness adding fervor to our efforts.

I finally wrapped my hands over her breasts, one at a time, playing with it slowly and beginning to breathe heavily myself in arousal. I thumbed her nipples and found that she was extremely sensitive there, because her moans became more frequent into my mouth and neck. We both moved our hips against each other in unison, mimicking the action we both so desired to get to, but I wanted anything but to rush things. She on the other hand, had already begun removing my belt and unbuttoning my pants, and in no time, she was wrapping her legs around my pelvis and impressively removing my pants mostly with her feet.

I could feel her pussy wet against my thigh, and our new proximity caused me to resume the pressure that had been so effective in the limo. I once again had her humping at my leg, becoming wetter with each push. I replaced my thigh with two of my fingers, rubbing softly but surely against her lips and clit. She squealed in pleasure and dug her nails lightly into my back. She was so close to orgasm she could barely stand it, and as I drank her in I couldn't fathom that a girl could be any sexier. My older sister was beneath me, begging for my touch, both of us wanting each other more than we had ever wanted someone before.

As I continued my ministrations, I slipped my fingers beneath the cotton of her panties, finding her mound baby smooth and slick with her desire. Being the consummate teaser that I am, I continued to keep her at the peak of her pleasure without pushing her over. She was frustrated, and she began to grab at my cock through my boxer shorts. She moved her dexterous fingers over it, allowing me to savor the feeling and the cotton between them. Then, just as I had done, she moved her hands underneath my boxers and grabbed me firmly, shuddering occasionally from my own onslaught of her smooth quim. She brushed her fingers up and down over my shaft, lightly touching the tip and rubbing the pre-cum over it.

"Please...please....oh...Oppa," she begged into my ear as I continued to rub against her clit and eased one finger, and then two, slowly into her wet pussy.

In and out I moved them gently, feeling how tight she was, but only enough to keep her bucking her hips at my touch and begging for release.

She once more grasped my cock, not even able to wrap her small hand around it and pushed her other hand against my chest.

"I want you, no... I need you...inside me," she pleaded.

Now I may have been teasing her, but the entire time I could do little more than think about how fantastic if was going to feel to finally be inside my gorgeous playmate sister. I kissed down her neck, not failing to stop at each of her breasts and lick tenderly at each hard nipple, hearing her moan in return. As I continued I kissed at her tight abs, belly-button and then looked up at her, smiling as I pulled her panties down the first few inches with my teeth. She managed a smile through her sighs of passion and I finished taking off her cute little black bottoms the rest of the way with my hands. Me standing at the foot of the bed, she reached out with her toe and grabbed the elastic band of my shorts, pushing it down, showing me what she wanted. I took them off in one fluid motion and when I looked up she was using both hands to make a 'come hither' motion at me.

As I slid up her body, feeling our skin rub lightly against each other, I knew this was it. We stared lustfully and longingly into each other's eyes and I could feel my fully enlarged shaft pressing directly between her soaked folds. We kissed once more, a kiss so deep and meaningful that only a brother and a sister could share, and I gazed upon her stunning features.

"Are you sure this is what you want? I know I do, but I want you to be sure," I said, and I meant it.

She pulled me close and, still panting, spoke a breathy "Yes...fuck me...please."

She reached between us and gently pointed me directly towards her, placing the tip right at her entrance. With one hand, she pulled at my back, encouraging me to move inside of her. I did as instructed, but as if in one last effort to tease, I pushed only a bit of my tip inside of her before pulling it back out. The feeling alone was unbearably good, and I had hardly entered her yet.

This time she demandingly breathed, " Oppa," strongly, "Fuck me."

With that, I began to press into her. We both gasped into each other's necks as I slid in, inch by inch. I stopped briefly for her to adjust to my sizable cock, and pulled out a bit, causing us both to hold our breath at the feeling. Finally I made one final thrust, and our hips touched together as we joined in a passionate kiss. We were both smiling from ear to ear at the sheer bliss we were experiencing. She pawed at me, fidgeting at the intense pleasure I was giving her.

I could have stayed locked together like that forever, but we both began, slowly at first, to rock against each other. We stayed pressed together as my cock slid further and further, in and out of her impossibly tight tunnel. I began to lose focus on the kisses we had been sharing and was unable to do anything but grasp at her hips with one hand and support myself with the other. Her moans came almost every other breath now, a sound so soft and sweet I wished they would never stop.

"Oh...oh...Oppa...Oppa," she gasped into my ear.

"Hanni...Hanni...you feel...so....fucking....good," I whispered back.

We were moving as one, two bodies locked in a passion for each other so strong nothing could not stop us. She then wrapped her legs around me, grabbing at me with her heels and pulling me deeper. I continued to thrust in and out, and she pushed in perfect time back toward me, grinding her clit against me every chance she could. We pushed hard enough each time that I could see her breasts, possibly my favorite feature, bouncing a bit at each stroke, still sizable even as she lay on her back. She began to squeal just a bit now with each breath, a pitch that just barely came through with each breathy moan. Finally, the orgasm I had deprived her of for so long came and she tensed up, grabbing me with impressive strength as I kept moving in and out of her, her pussy pummeling my cock with its contractions as she came for what seemed like minutes. She continued to moisten and I continued to thrust, not allowing or wanting her to come down from her climax. I couldn't believe it, I still had time to go, and though I could probably have made myself climax at any second, my body seemed determined to let me continue my enjoyment of the amazing playmate, my sister, before me.

She finally began to come down from her orgasm, and pulled me tight against her.

"Don't move.. I can't handle it... I need a moment," she managed to say.

I observed her in her post-orgasmic glow and once again had time to marvel at my luck.

"Tell me when," I challenged her.

A few slow, controlled breaths and, as if encouraged by my dare she said with all the strength she could muster "when."

With that, she flipped on top of me as she had done so many times before, without removing herself from our incestuous connection. I could tell that she was still sensitive from her first orgasm but after a few seconds she began to move her toned core in the most seductive motion. She flexed and relaxed her abs, working me in and out of her soaked pussy like a piston around a camshaft. She smiled as she saw my eyes roll back, astounded at her ability. I firmly grasped her body, feeling it move and moving with it, my hands free to do whatever they pleased. I took her breasts in my hands, cupping them and feeling their weight and wonderful softness. She leaned into me, still moving her hips so smoothly up and down on my cock. I thrust up meet her downward movements, us now face to face and joining again in a lustful kiss. I felt myself closer to orgasm but fought it away, I couldn't give in just yet. Hanni on the other hand was not quite close, I could see her face change just a bit with each up and down thrust, and you should have seen it as I moved my thumb to her clit. As I rubbed at her little button she smiled again against my mouth and moaned my name:

"Oppa...fuck....Oppa....oh God."

Encouraged, I scooped her up, moving to the edge of the bed still inside her and could feel us both pulsing now that the thrusts had momentarily stopped. I looked around for something to set her on and found the that padded bay window across from my bed to be the perfect place. I stood up, but always wanting to try it, and her light body the perfect size, we began to fuck standing up. I grasped her ass tightly in my hands and she wrapped her legs around me. We adjusted to the position and for a minute or two were once again lost in our passion as I fucked her, the sexy little minx that she was, as well as I could. Holding her weight distracted me from my own not-so-far-off orgasm and I plunged into her again and again, seeing that she was enjoying it too. The feeling was like no other, having her wrapped securely around me, suspended in the air and still enjoying the heat of her sex sliding up and down my shaft. I savored it, her breasts pushing against my chest so I could feel her teasing nipples and each breath.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck me...Oppa... fuck your sister... Fuck you're big...shit...shit...Ohmygod."

I was so turned on by the dirty mouth she got as I fucked her, she never spoken like that before, and I began to pound her harder. Her moans got louder in approval as I pounded at her and her little hole nearly dripped in enjoyment.

Finally I moved with her still impaled on my cock over to the window, set her down, and looked her right in the eyes as I pulled out just past the tip and then began to thrust back into her slowly. Our looks both shouted that we loved and wanted each other so badly. My cock fit perfectly inside my sister's tight little pussy. I knew my orgasm was coming, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that hers was too. She looked back at me, pleading with me to keep going, and we both watched between us as my cock disappeared inside her again and again. The pleasure was agonizing and we never wanted it to end.

Each stroke brought us closer to our impending climaxes and I looked over her body one final time. She was just barely glistening with sweat and her face was flushed. Her chest, and firm breasts with it was heaving with each moan. She once again pulled me into her with her legs, and used one hand to bring my face to hers. I brushed the hair from her face and grasped her hips with my other hand. We were oblivious to anything else now but the sensation of her wet tunnel grasping at my cock. We alternated between quick, fulfilling strokes to slow and pleasurable ones where we held our breath for an entire thrust.

We ground against each other, feeling our bodies pressed together and our tongues dancing drunk with lust, and we were both seconds away from release. For a few strokes we looked deep into each other's eyes, wanting to see the other pushed over the edge. I pulled out one final time and Hanni's teary eyes begged for that one final advance. As I thrust into her, she screamed aloud, and I nearly blacked out as I began releasing inside of her. Her walls contracted around me, flowing with fluids and I pumped my seed again and again into her, trying to thrust in deeper as I did. She was clutching at any part of me she could with her hands, unable to breathe until her orgasm began to fade. Her legs held me inside of her, and I could think of absolutely nothing as a wave of such intensity washed over me that I went temporarily blind. Hanni quivered again and again as her own orgasm rendered her limp in my arms. Her pussy squeezed the last bit out of me and we both held each other, speechless for who knows how long.

I began to pull myself from her and the tenderness of our lovemaking made it almost impossible to move without both of us trembling at the feeling. As I finally moved completely out of her, we both felt an intense emptiness, which I remedied by quickly laying her down in the window and sliding in behind her. I held her tight as we spooned on the cushions, every sense heightened, and our desires for each other stronger than ever.

We lay like that for a long time, just feeling each other breathe, still unable to form words or thoughts at what had just transpired. All I knew was that I had just had the experience of a lifetime, and I wanted it to last as long as it possibly could. As if reading my mind, Hanni finally managed,

"I can't believe what you just did to me, that was...." I was hanging on her every word, "fucking incredible," she finished.

We both smiled at her phrasing, and I knew she felt the same as me.

"I love you so much Hanni, and that was the best thing that will ever happen to me," I said back, knowing that words really couldn't describe fully how I felt.

Hanni turned to me with a look on her face I didn't understand, "best thing that will ever happen to you, Oppa?" she questioned. "What about next time?"

...to be continued

#njz smut #newjeans smut #hanni smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #newjeans #njz #hanni #smut #kpop #newjeans hanni #njz hanni

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norrisainz33 · 3 days ago

Text

dream job || ls18

summary: you are starting the 2025 season in your dream role, as a f1 journalist and end up meeting a certain aston martin driver who sweeps you off your feet

pairing: lance stroll x journalist!nonfamous!reader

fc & warnings: none & some hate comments

requested: yes! thank you for your patience anon!!

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by yourbff, friend1, friend2, friend3, coworker, skysportsf1, yoursibling, and 432 others

ynuser: grwm for the first day of my dream job! so excited to cover f175 with skysportsf1 today 🤍

p.s thanks to friend3 for letting me borrow my outfit and yourbff for the hair and makeup

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yourbff: thats my best friend!!!! here before you become the most popular journalist in the game

ynuser: an og fan! thank you sm bestie

friend3: outfit looks so good omg 😭

ynuser: thank you 😭😭 i appreciate you so much

friend3: couldn’t let my bestie go out there and not serve tf

friend1: soooo coool!!!!!! [liked by ynuser]

skysportsf1: can't wait to see you there!

ynuser: looking forward to it admin 🫶🏻

friend2: i will be watching the red carpet to try and get a glimpse of you bb

ynuser: if you see me please take a picture 😫

yoursibling: don't blow up and pretend you don't know us no more pls

ynuser: how could i ever?!

ynuser has posted to their story

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yourbff: im trying so hard not to fangirl but is that OLLIE AND ESTIE?! AND LANCE

ynuser: yes!! it is!!!!!! not fangirling was incredibly hard. you'll also NEVER guess what happened

yourbff: screaming already - what happened?!

ynuser: after we stopped recording lance told me that he really liked the questions i asked and that he hopes to see me with the media at the races

yourbff: SHUT UP! GIRL

ynuser: and then ofc i forgot how to be normal and told him that he hasnt seen the last of me and then he said and i quote 'i hope thats true.' and then left

yourbff: if i didnt know any better id say he was flirting?

ynuser: literally no way he was just being nice

yourbff: its ok bestie ill be delulu enough for the both of us

friend3: ollie bearman the man that you areeeeeee

ynuser: he was so goofy silly im such a fan

user1: fire content this is going to do numbers on f1twt

friend1: OMGOGMOGMMfgajfgg

ynuser: same

friend2: I SAW YOUR INTERVIEW WITH LANCE!!!!!! AND LANDO??!!?@?@?@?@??@? A N D THE LEWIS HAMILTON????

ynuser: ahhhh you saw them?!?!

friend2: yes!!! you're all over socials for making lance and lando giggle

ynuser: that would explain all the new followers hahaha but seriously all of the drivers were so kind im so excited for the rest of the season. bahrain can't come soon enough

yourcoworker: never gonna get used to this

ynuser: me neither. definitely going to take time to sink in

user3: loved your interview questions! truly such unique ones and you can tell the drivers really appreciated it!

user33: how the heck did u get this job

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estebanocon: why do you need this information mon ami?

lance_stroll: science! research!

estebanocon: mate

chloestroll: ..... care to share w the class what this means?

lance_stroll: nope :)

chloestroll: you know that’s not gonna fly

lance_stroll: 😔

chloestroll: TELL ME!!!!!!

lance_stroll: fine!!!!!

lance_stroll: skysports got a new interviewer and she asked really good questions and was really pretty and we chatted a little and i can’t stop thinking about her ok. let a man live

chloestroll: 👀 trying to be nonchalant about this

lance_stroll: see this is why i didn’t want to tell you

pierregasly: kika says it was y/n y/l/n! that is if you mean the girl that asked the funny but really good questions

lance_stroll: yes thats her! thanks pierre or should is say thanks kika xxoo

pierregasly: she says you’re welcome but that you’re gonna have to spill the beans abt what is going on here next time we hang out

lance_stroll: deal

flavybarla: 🤨

lance_stroll: 🤭

fernandoalo_oficial: ask the social media team they'll know

lance_stroll: i'm scared to bc you know they'd make me do like 2 tikoks in return for the info

fernandoalo_oficial: fair

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yourbff: obsessed with the duality of the groutfit from target and the insanely fancy drinks you're drinking in this last slide

ynuser: i felt a bit out of place in the restaurant in my little tj maxx dress but he was so insanely sweet it didn’t matter

yourbff: i’m sure you looked stunning bestie. PLEASE spill the beans about your DATE

ynuser: if you had told me it was a dream i would have believed you! like we’ve been texting for a couple weeks but idk i was worried about how it would be in person but talking to him was so easy it felt like we had know each other for forever

yourbff: 🥹🥹🥹 obsessed. are you going to see him again?

ynuser: he did ask me if we could go out again 😭

yourbff: YESSSSSSSSSSSSS I STAN THIS SO HARD

user33: man didnt know being a journalist meant you could afford 5 star restaurants... must be nice

lance_stroll: thanks for taking a chance on me and coming out tonight

ynuser: thank you for inviting me out! i had a really lovely time getting to know you better

lance_stroll: likewise! i’d really like to keep getting to know you 😅

ynuser: it’s a good thing i feel the same way

friend3: was this the dinner and drinks with you know WHO?!

ynuser: yes and it was incredible 😭

yourcoworker: longest day of my entire life. running from the airport directly to the track is not for the weak

ynuser: no for real. our sleep schedules are going to be crazy but it’s going to be so worth it

user1: looking forward to seeing your interviews!

friend2: what is your life these days... a jet setting super star u have become

ynuser: pleaseeeee i am still just little old me

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user28: you’re really spoiling whoever this is

user18: SOFT LWUXNHEVFOW NG IRNG

user18: sorry let me calm down

chloestroll: looooook it’s my favorite girly

lance_stroll: already trying to steal her from me huh

chloestroll: yes! she’s the sweetest little thing ever 🥹🤍

user19: the miami gp better be good to you this weekend i swear

ynuser: i love loving you

lance_stroll: these past few months have been the best of my life

ynuser: same 😭🤍

user33: did you…… get this girl a birkin?????? gotta be a gold digger im

estebanocon: i’m really happy for you mate

lance_stroll: i appreciate you so much mate. thanks to you and flavy for making her feel so welcome last weekend 🤍

estebanocon: you both are always welcome to visit us when we have time off ❤️

yourbff: who is that cutie

lance_stroll: my girlfriend 😉

yourbff: she was mine first 😔

user21: how will i ever survive knowing you’re off the market

user29: i’m taking bets that this is that journalist from skysports

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liked by astonmartinf1, yourbff, user1, skysportsf1, your coworker, lance_stroll, chloestroll and 11,345 others

ynuser: imola - you were a dream. make sure to catch my interviews from the weekend over on skysportsf1!

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user1: you’ve really bewitched me this season i think you’re my new favorite media person [liked by ynuser]

lance_stroll: 😍 [liked by ynuser]

ynuser: ❤️‍🔥

user18: i’d know that lance stroll hair in slide 3 anywhere

yourbff: LOVEEEEE this pretty girl

ynuser: bestieeeeeeee thank you 😘

user33: the glow up you’ve had is interesting….. wonder where all these nice things have come from….. seems like a certain billionaire..

flavy.barla: obsessed actually

ynuser: and i’m obsessed with you 🥹

skysportsf1: catch y/n recaping the weekend over on our page! [liked by ynuser]

user12: need outfit details stat

friend3: there are so many people here not sure how to act normal

ynuser: just be you bbgirl

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liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user33 and 18,375 others

f1gossip: flavy, alex and y/n have all arrived at the monaco grand prix! y/n y/l/n, sky sports correspondent, is rumored to be the girlfriend of lance stroll and has been spending a lot more time in the paddock and with flavy and alex when she’s not reporting.

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user1: god they’re so beautiful

user2: the ultimate trio

user3: i wish i could be part of their friend group

user33: i s2g this girl is just using lance for his $$$

user1: get a life and leave her be

user99: i have noticed that he’s very clearly giving her stuff. like if you look at her posts before they were together she was not dressing like the rest of the wags and now suddenly she is?

user28: this is the happiest i’ve seen lance in like literal years stfu and stop being mean to her

user33: she just wants the influence.. have you seen how much more traction her interviews get now?

user19: being mean isn’t gonna make lance like you user33 like be so for real rn

user18: omg y/n made the wag page this is huge

user20: pleasseeee someone tell me where alex’s dress is from

user11: they’re all literally glowing wow

lance_stroll has made a post

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lance_stroll: with love from summer break ft my favorite person in the whole world 🤍

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fernandoalo_oficial: looks incredible! hope you two had the best time 💚

lance_stroll: we did! looking forward to seeing you soon mi amigo

user18: looks like the vacation of a life time

ynuser: i love you my handsome man

lance_stroll: i love you gorgeous girl

yourbff: cutie patooties i love you both so much

lance_stroll: we love you so much

ynuser: 🤍🤍

chloestroll: thanks for letting me crash your vacay for a few days

ynuser: seeing you was one of my favorite parts 🤍

lance_stroll: it’s always wonderful spending time with you and scottyjames31

user11: honestly this is my royal family. you two are goals idc what anyone else has to say

user23: i can’t wait to see you back on track

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes and reblogs appreciated🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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rafesangelita · 3 days ago

Text

♡ standing in front of rafe’s door after everything that transpired was the last thing you thought you’d do.. yet here you were. luckily for you, rafe has no intentions of ever letting you leave him again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, rough sex, marathon sex (these two have a lot to catch up on), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, choking, face fucking, cum eating, cum play (they are sooo gross), multiple orgasms, rough handling, hair pulling, biting, slapping, overstimulation, crying, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation kink (?), praise, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: aaaand this is the end ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this series was something i thought of on a whim, and i couldn’t be any more happier with the way everything came out. to everyone who showed sm love and gave me your thoughts and feedback, thank you so much!! reading your comments and your theories made me smile <3 wrote this while listening to ‘hotel’ by montell fish, i highly recommend listening to it, it’s what inspired this chapter!!

links: previous | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

it’s been four days since rafe’s been blowing up your phone with every second he could spare, all of his calls and messages being either dismissed or ignored. you had fabricated a lie the next morning and told chanel that you and rafe just weren’t compatible with each other, and even though she could see the solemn look on your face, she knew not to dig any further. “you call me if you need anything, okay?” she hugged you tightly before leaving, using her own key to lock the door to your house as you stayed laying in bed.

as much as you wanted to give in to rafe, you just couldn’t find it in you to overlook the fact that he held back from telling you what he knew. sure, now that you look back on it, it was obvious, but to continue feeding into your fantasies, receiving your pictures, and talking to you on the phone as if he didn’t know who you were made you feel like you had been played in a way. since that night, you went to your tumblr and deleted everything, along with deactivating your account and uninstalling the app as a whole.

once rafe saw that your blog was gone, he went ahead and decided to delete his as well. it was pointless for him to be active if you were no longer on there anymore. he had been checking his phone religiously, hoping for any kind of reply, but each time his phone screen illuminated with a notification that wasn’t from you it was just a blow to his chest. he hated not hearing from you, especially because he had grown so used to listening to your voice everyday. now that was all gone. he no longer had that balance that he needed to keep him from going insane.

rafe didn’t view you any differently once he found out his dream girl behind the screen was you. if anything, it just made him want you even more. to know that the same girl that never put up with anyone’s shit was the same girl that wanted to be told what to do was nothing short of gratifying. he loved being the man that did that for you. both of you needed each other, and that was something you were slowly starting to realize as the days went on. finally folding, you had turned your read receipts off so rafe wouldn’t know that you opened up the plethora of paragraphs he had been sending you.

you scrolled down from the very top, only reading the messages that stuck out to you the most.

[Sunday - 10:11 AM] rafe: i just checked into my room, please text me back.

[Sunday - 11:00 AM] rafe: i don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me but we’re gonna have to settle this now or when i get home. either way, you’re still mine. whether you like it or not.

[Sunday - 11:09 AM] rafe: has it ever occurred to you that you know things about me that nobody else knows either? i knew who you were and i still didn’t hold back from being vulnerable with you. i care about you y/n, i think about you all the fucking time. after opening up to me last night, i really just want to make sure that you never feel alone again. let me be there. please.

[Sunday - 10:17 PM] rafe: this is the first night in months that i’m going to bed without hearing your voice. please consider talking to me again.

[Monday - 8:20 PM] rafe: not that it matters anymore but for the entire time that we were texting each other, i never saw anyone else. i wasn’t interested in anybody and then once i found out that you were closer than i thought, you’re the only thing that i could think about. phone sex aside, i truly believe that we see each other and understand one another— at least for me, you do. this isn’t a sunken ship, and i won’t let you turn it into one.

[Monday - 8:27 PM] rafe: i’ll do whatever it takes to be back in your good graces, but leaving you alone isn’t an option. i don’t think it ever was.

[Tuesday - 3:55 PM] rafe: well i finished up all the deals i needed to make, but i want to give you the time that you need, so i’ll be staying here for the rest of the week. i’ve put your name on the visitor’s list for my room number, i know it’s far fetched to think you’ll show up, but i’ll be here.

and then the most recent ones from this afternoon..

[Today - 1:09 PM] rafe: #501

[Today - 1:10 PM] rafe: that’s my room number.

you bit your lip. you couldn’t believe you were really considering going over there. you spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the halls, trying to come up with excuses as to why you shouldn’t pack a bag and give in to the man that undeniably has you in a chokehold. by the sounds of his texts, it’s not like you can just get out of not communicating with him, he has made that abundantly clear. by the time it was seven o’clock you were cursing under your breath as your car parked onto the ferry headed towards the mainland. “you better not embarrass me, asshole..” you whispered, swallowing your pride as the minutes counted down to your destination.

you were hesitant when it came time to go into the lobby, your chest rising and falling as you got off the car on shaky legs. you knew that coming over here meant more than just ‘talking it out’, this was you allowing rafe to prove himself worthy enough for something to grow out of this; something serious. “good evening! are you a guest or a visitor?” the receptionist smiled at you brightly as you answered. “visitor. for rafe cameron.” she clicked away on her computer for a few moments before humming pleasantly. “y/n?” she confirmed. with a curt nod, she motioned towards the elevators, “enjoy your night.”

adjusting the pink bag on your shoulder, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the elevator dinged on rafe’s floor. no matter how much you were trying to downplay the situation, you couldn’t help the violent thumping of your heart with every step you took towards the end of the long hallway. standing in front of his door made everything feel like it was closing in on you, like suddenly you couldn’t get out of this and you hated the feeling of losing control. before you could successfully talk yourself out of facing him and running away, you knocked and waited with a bated breath for rafe to answer.

the man on the other side of the door was sitting at the edge of his bed in deep thought when he heard the small sound against the thick hardwood. eyebrows twisting in confusion, rafe got up and looked through the peep hole. he felt relief wash over him as soon as he saw you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest without a word, he opened the door, your eyes finding his. his gaze said just as much as your own, both of you sharing a mutual understanding without having to say anything.

pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe nodded understandingly before dragging you inside, your heart fluttering in your chest at his display of strength. “rafe—” you didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he grabbed your bag and tossed it to the side, his hands cupping your face before he backed you into the wall. “just shut up.” he whispered, both of you moaning once you felt each other’s lips finally press into your own. he tasted like mint with a hint of alcohol and you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of it.

snaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails down his toned stomach before tugging at the waistline of his jeans, a small gasp leaving your lips once he inserted a thigh between your legs and pressed into where you needed him most. “fuck,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, “please, i need you.” hearing you say that you needed him made rafe’s head spin in the best possible way. “yeah? i’m not really convinced..” he leaned in, licking a stripe across your bottom lip. rolling your eyes, you dug your nails into his neck until he groaned, pushing you into the wall with a thud.

narrowing your gaze at him, rafe smiled once he saw what looked like a hint of a challenge dancing in your orbs. picking you up off of your feet, you yelped when rafe slammed you onto his bed, wasting no time in slotting himself between your thighs. “it’s gonna take a lot more than some pathetic begging to get me inside you.” he said through gritted teeth. you refrained from saying something smart, your stare faltering as you swallowed thickly. he was going to make this difficult for you. stroking the back of his neck, you pulled him down so your lips were next to his ear.

he shuddered at the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin, a sigh falling from his lips as you trailed your foot along the side of his hip up to his torso. “please, rafe? i might cry if i have to my own fingers again..it’s been too long,” you whispered, “what will it take for you to fill me up with your cock instead?” rafe cursed under his breath as soon as he heard your lewd words, his hands working to get you out of your clothes so he could give both of you some kind of relief. you shivered once you were left in your bra and panties, your eyes beaming up at the man in front of you as you slowly removed the lacey material.

maybe it was because rafe was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t help but feel overexposed as he ogled your chest, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he took your tits in the palms of his hands. “holy fuck,” he laid you back, letting his touch roam your body as you squirmed with anticipation, “the camera doesn’t do you justice, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.” your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies at the nickname. “and these..” he tugged at your underwears, his jaw clenching once he caught a glimpse of your glossy folds.

in no time, rafe had your thighs shaking around his head, your back arching off of the plush mattress as you clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the pure, white hot pleasure coursing through your tummy. “rafe!” you squealed, your entire body buzzing with need as you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. “you taste so good, ‘pretty, m’gonna have to keep you on your back for me all fucking day from now on.” he cursed, flicking his tongue against your overstimulated clit. you felt like a puddle of nothing once he had his digits curled inside of you, his fingertips continuously hitting that sweet spot that made you jolt with each stroke.

“t-too much!” you shook your head, your hips drawing away from his mouth. he chuckled, his strong grip on the curves of your waist making you hiss in pain. “this can’t be too much for you already, i’m just getting started..” you whined helplessly, feeling the band in your stomach snap for the second time already, the motions of his digits eliciting wet squelches from your cunt as you writhed uncontrollably beneath him.

with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, rafe removed the hand he had inbetween your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your mouth, his tongue still working skillfully on your sensitive bud as he forced you to taste yourself. you moaned, sucking on his digits without a second thought. “you’re so fucking hot, i love it.” he grumbled, grinding his clothed erection into the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction he could get as he leaked precum from merely giving you pleasure.

he brought you down from your high until your breathing slowed and you were dragging him up to kiss you once again. rafe’s lips molded to yours so perfectly, you cupped his chin and pecked the tip of his nose before slipping out from under his body. rafe didn’t ask any questions as you grabbed his hand and guided him back up to his feet. how you managed to stand up after being overstimulated into oblivion? you don’t know, but you were determined to get rafe out of his clothes one way or another.

rafe watched as you lifted his shirt above his head, the thin material of his t-shirt getting lost on the floor somewhere as you stared at his glorious build. “as much i hated you, i always thought you were stupidly hot.” rafe snorted at your words, his eyes following the way your fingertips trailed down his pecs to his v-line. “hated?” he repeated, noting the past-tense of your statement. meeting his eyes, you blinked softly before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. “yeah, hated.”

within seconds, you had dropped to your knees, biting your lip at the sight of rafe bulging out of the denim material of his jeans. looking up at him with sultry eyes, you palmed him through his pants, his nostrils flaring slightly as you took your time getting him out of his boxers. oh and once you did, you were gobsmacked. you’ve spent so much time daydreaming about this cock, just wishing it was the one thing putting you to sleep instead of your fingers, and now that it was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the sight.

you smiled sweetly before placing your hands on the back of his knees, the man above you already fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, his hips bucking at the pleasure shooting into his core. “o-oh, fuck..” he swallowed thickly, watching as your sparkly lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his aching tip with ease. you moaned around his length, taking him inch by inch until your nose nudged his pubic bone.

blinking up at him through your eyelashes, you slowly pulled off of him, holding him at the base as he watched you trace your lips with a mix of spit and precum. “you’re gonna get it.” was the last thing rafe said before he pulled your head back down on his cock, a muffled whine sounding from your mouth before you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. rafe’s head rolled to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. your grip tightened around his legs, your eyebrows pinching together as rafe groaned, his muscles constricting underneath his skin.

“i imagined this for so long..” he said through gritted teeth, “..since way before we even started texting.” you moaned at the revelation, grateful that he took the hint and let you slide off of him for a moment so you could breathe. gasping once you were able to get a full breath, rafe cursed when his eyes landed on the thick string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. “why didn’t you do something about it, then?” rafe shook his head, letting go of your hair before landing a playful smack across your cheek. “you know what? that’s a really good question, ‘think you would’ve been okay with me stuffing your mouth back then?”

you giggled, licking your lips before getting up and pushing him down on the bed. rafe brought you down with him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you kissed him sloppily. feeling him like this, skin to skin, made a weight that you didn’t even know was there lift from your heart, your soft hands stroking his chest as he held you in his big arms. snaking down his torso, you pressed a trail of kisses down his stomach until you reached his length, wrapping a hand around his base.

“tell me, rafe,” you scooted down so you were straddling his thighs, “would you have even had the balls to take me the way you wanted?” rafe’s chest rose and fell as you stroked him languidly, his eyes struggling to stay open as you watched him with that dark gaze of yours. “nah, i didn’t think you’d be able to take it.” you smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before you picked up your pace, the action making rafe’s hips buck. “ah, fuck!” he heaved, his jaw falling slack as he felt himself teetering the edge of euphoria.

“already gonna cum?” you teased, “so fucking pathetic.” rafe blinked, his jaw tightening at your words. he couldn’t let you win this easily. despite it feeling impossible, he mustered up the strength to stop your ministrations, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down beneath him. “you might be royalty out there, but in here? with me? you don’t get to have your fucking way. you’re nothing.” you gasped, your heart beating in your ears as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

suddenly you didn’t have the same confidence from earlier now that rafe had you right where he wanted you, his cock sitting snuggly between your folds. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him teasing your clit, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he entered you slowly. rafe buried his face in your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. your eyes watered at the stretch, a small cry emitting from your throat. rafe looked down at you and made sure you were okay before thrusting into you, both of you moaning in unison.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praised you, “better than what i could’ve ever imagined.” he pressed a kiss to your calf, pressing a large palm over your lower stomach. you squeaked at the pressure, your toes curling as he fucked into you with vigor. “i wonder what people would think of you if they knew you were a cock hungry slut,” he started thumbing your clit, your hands shooting up to dig crescents into his biceps, “i should mark you up, ‘show everyone who the fuck you belong to when they see us out.”

you don’t know why, but the idea of walking around with rafe, everyone’s eyes falling on you two in every room you enter, turned you on beyond belief, especially at the prospect of being littered with bruises and hickeys from none other than the man on top of you. “i want that,” you whimpered, “want’ everyone to know you’re mine too.” rafe groaned. all he’s wanted to hear since you two started this whole thing. that he was yours.. that you wanted him the way he wanted you.

rafe wished so badly that he didn’t refrain from letting himself cum over the course of these last few months, because then maybe he wouldn’t be close to blowing his load this soon. “still think i’m pathetic if i cum right now?” rafe trailed his lips across your collarbone, his forehead nudging your chin as you nodded breathlessly. “oh, totally.” you laughed, the smile from your face being wiped off as soon as rafe picked up his speed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i guess that’s gonna make two of us then..” you had heavy tears rolling down your cheeks when your high washed over you in waves of pure ecstasy, your legs trembling as you thrashed against him. you lost all ability to speak or think, rafe’s hips coming to a stop as he pulled out, still stroking his length as he emptied himself over your drenched folds. rafe shuddered, watching the way his cum painted your pretty cunt. you were left clenching around nothing, a pout forming on your lips.

“w-why didn’t you just cum inside me?” you stuttered, rafe’s eyes widening at your display of offense. “well i wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that—” you cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth before reaching down and guided his tip over the mess he made. “put it in me.” your had seen plenty of gazes turn dark before, but rafe’s was just incomparable. he was distraught, the look on your face sending him into overdrive. he did as you said, his mind churning with a thousand thoughts at once.

you took every drop like a champ, his eyes hanging low as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his side. cradling his head to your chest, you reveled in the feeling of his arms being wrapped around you, both of you panting softly in an attempt to catch your breaths. staying in this position for what seemed like forever, you blinked once rafe’s voice broke you out of your post-sex bliss. “what made you change your mind?” he asked, running his fingertips up and down the column of your spine.

“my mind was already made up..” you whispered, “i just needed to put my ego away and finally choose something for myself.”

at your words, rafe pulled you into a heated kiss, which only then lead to round two and three and so on until you were barely able to hold yourself up in the shower. you and rafe slept in the next morning, both of you spending the rest of the week seemingly catching up with all of the pent up sexual frustration you two shared until it was time to go back home and do it all overs again. your phone had been blowing up with unanswered calls and texts from chanel, your best friend worried sick about you and your sudden disappearance. “where the fuck have you been?! i was starting to think i should file a missing persons report!” she shouted.

“i promise i’m going to explain everything. meet me at our brunch spot in ten minutes.. and feel free to bring topper..”

“how did this happen?!” chanel squealed excitedly, looking between you and rafe as he draped an arm across your shoulders, your lips finding his. oh, god, where could you even start? “it’s a really interesting story, but trust me when i say you’ll thank me for sparing the details.” you laughed. topper was also mildly confused at his best friend’s sudden attitude change towards you. “blink twice if you need help, bro.” he chuckled nervously, both you and chanel shooting him a glare. “nah, no cries for help over here. i’m right where i wanna be..”

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zomgcaleb · 3 days ago

Text

time of the month

-`♡´- synopsis — based on this drabble, extra blurb at the end.

-`♡´- tags — bunnyhybrid!xavier, bunny rut cycle, m!masturbation, xavier stealing your clothes, panty sniffing, pillow humping, mutual pining, scent kink, spitting (once), mating press, handjob, oral f!receiving, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasms m!receiving, xavier calls you master, cockwarming, biting, breeding kink, aftercare, whiny!xavier, kinda pathetic!xavier, sex with feelings, porn with plot, love bombs, marking, premature ejactulation, xavier passes out (he's fine), dom!xavier, tummy bulge, creampie, unprotected p in v sex (be safe please)

minors do not interact — 18+ only!!

wc — 6.2k

quick context — male bunnies typically lose consciousness temporarily after ejaculation

notes — not proofread!! i haven’t written a fic like this in quite a while, so i hope it’s somewhat coherent and you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it ^^

He could feel it. It wasn’t far away. The blood in his veins felt like fire. An invincible flame that nothing could quell… except…

You were none the wiser of this ordeal, hacking away at the vegetables you’re preparing for the soup you’re making for dinner.

Xavier bounced his leg to the rhythm of his thoughts. You’d surely be getting suspicious by now, about the stains on your pillows. His heart plummeted when you confronted him about it, the limp pillow case dangling from your fingers. To his fortune, his lucky stars, you begin to ramble about a supposed leak in the ceiling. ‘I knew our insulation was getting bad but not that bad’ you’d told him. The relief he felt came in strong intense waves and in blew a high he carried for days. You’d hadn’t caught him yet.

You’d hadn’t caught him so he can do it again.

But his streak soon ends when you came home from work early one day and a strange knock sounded at the door. It was a maintenance worker. A maintenance worker who took a look at your insulation systems and said they were perfectly fine.

A maintenance worker who just replanted the seed of doubt in Xavier’s garden of ecstasy. How was he supposed to spend his ruts without his only outlet? Now that he thinks hard about it, they’ve been lasting longer and longer. It seems his makeshift methods have grown stale.

Maybe he should pretend to run away. No, that’s stupid. Maybe he’ll come up with a distraction…But, what kind of rouse would last a whole week?

Xavier shakes his head to calm his racing heart and huffs dejectedly. He listens to calming sounds of your kitchen tools clanking softly and with a twitch of his ear his eyes shoot open.

Maybe… he can convince you it was your idea.

He’s seen the way you look at him when you think he can’t see you. He’s noticed the glimmer in your eye when you take care of him. He’s even noticed the way you touch him, or rather, that places you touch. If he thinks hard enough he can still remember the feeling of your fingertips on his neck as you checked his temperature after his last rut. You’d been so worried he’d shut himself away and his chest tightened painfully at your confession that night.

You’d thought you’d done something to upset him.

He can’t let things go how they are for much longer.He’s starting to make you doubt yourself.

It ultimately comes down to two outcomes. None being good. You either find out of his naughty endeavors eventually, or his long, grueling, unsatisfying ruts will give him away anyway.

His brows crease in distaste.

Before he can spiral anymore into his rabbit hole you call him sweetly from the dining room. Dinner was ready.

He was certain now. Or at least more certain than he was.

You both sat at the table to eat, like you normally would. However he couldn’t shake the feeling of a watchful eye…like usual. He tried not to make anything of it really. He was a bunny hybrid. His fluffy ears were hard to miss. But due to his earlier turmoil he paid closer attention this time. To what you were looking at.

He was wearing a rather old t shirt. It’s been out through the wringer a number of times, used for various activities like painting, cleaning. Whatever you wouldn’t want on a shirt you actually like.

He was doing laundry last week when he noticed the collar had been snagged. Not enough to really make him think to throw it away but it wasn’t too noticeable... Except since now that he wears it, it sags pitifully below his collarbones.

You definitely noticed.

He’d trailed your wandering eyes through his peripherals right to his neck. At first he wasn’t sure what to do with his finding. It wasn’t until he finally looked over at you that your eyes meet and he sees a glint of something.

Of want. Of desire. The same one he has when you bend down in front of him…or when you lick the batter off the spatula and moan in delight..or when he smells your perfume in the bathroom after you’ve left for work…

It was then, he knew exactly what to do.

The tests started small. A fleeting touch here, a lingering stare there, hugs that last for a little too long. But it wasn’t enough. Not to make you crack.

He needed to get you to act first. And quick. It wasn’t until his skin starts to burn deliciously when you touched him and his brain starts to fog with—indecent—thoughts of you that he gets his rude awakening.

His rut was coming, and fast. He needed to up the ante somehow.

He lays helplessly in his bed. His body suffering from a heat wave all too familiar. It was faint, few and far inbetween but its effects showed no mercy. His hands clutched a shirt you’d gotten together at a new park stand that sold lemonade. It was a grand opening souvenir you’d gotten from the tender and you’d been so happy with it. It was big on you, too big. You’d both shared a laugh at the time when you slipped it over your top and it draped down to your knees.

The graphic was stupid and hard to look at. He thinks if he thought hard enough he’d be able to come up with something better. Something less of an eyesore.

But right now…he couldn’t seem look away.

He’d waltzed into your room the next day with innocent intent, trying to find a pen to finish the grocery list, when he saw the crumbled yellow fabric of it tangled in the sheets of your bed. He held it up, chuckling as he reminisced. But before he could put it down he gets a whiff of you. Your perfume, your deodorant, the conditioner you use; it even smelt faintly of him. It was enough for him to take it.

And now, it was clutched tightly between his fingers, sniffing wildly at the ugly fabric as each wet schlick of his other hand filled the room. His breath hitched softly, his voice catching in his throat. The smell of you was faded and weaker than before as it’d been a while since it’s left his bed, but it still quelled the heat growing in his core nonetheless.

If he closed his eyes he could picture your hand instead of his, gripping his weeping cock tightly—possessively. He’d be so pliant, yielding to your every word yet you’d tease him anyway.

“Please….” Xavier wheezed. His voice was strained and rightfully so. His cock bobbed against his abs, demanding attention with his angry pink tip. Spurts of pre-cum glisten against the ambient lights of his room.

He wants to touch you. His hands need to grip and kneed at your hips—at your waist, to fondle what ever he can reach and burn the feeling into memory. He’s so tired of looking longingly from a distance. To not be able to have you whenever he wants.

Oh, how he’s wanted to kiss you sweetly before bed every night. Or hold you from behind to nuzzle into your neck, only to bite softly into the juncture of your shoulder. You’d gasp in surprise, so cute and helpless pressed against him like that.

“Hah…“ Xavier’s hips thrust into his hand. Faster. Tighter. His hands start to get sweaty and his hair sticks to his forehead. He was already so close, the rising heat of his orgasm was only getting stronger and his stomach drops.

With a long lingering sniff of your shirt he presses it to his tip as his cock twitches. A groan rumbles in his throat as hot white ropes erupt into the fabric, soaking it almost completely. He chants your name softly, mumbling to himself as he fucks himself through his high; his thrusts slow and he hums at the warm feeling of cum coating his fingers. The once vibrant yellow turns into a muddy mustard variant and he only stares down at it with a glaze over his eyes.

It’s ruined…looks like he’ll have to borrow another one.

Xavier sighs. His ears are flopped over his pillows and his tail flicks behind him.

What can he do to occupy your head like you do his? How can he get under your skin?

Under… your skin…

Well, if you liked his ogling his neck, you should like this, right?

He’d woken up the next morning and did his usual routine—with a slight tweak. Brushing his teeth, making his bed, changing out of his pajamas…Only this time instead of digging around in his drawer and throwing on the first feel of soft cotton up and over his head, he just…didn’t.

He was shirtless and shivered at the unfamiliar breeze of the cold AC against his chest before strolling out into the hallway.

-`♡´-

It was almost as if he’d developed an estranged allergy to wearing a shirt the next two days.

You’d wondered what the sudden interest in this behavior was considering Xavier wasn’t exactly the type to do such a thing so excessively. Not to mention bunnies were prone to temperature change and if anything it made you worry. It didn’t last long enough for you to ask about it but you kept it in mind.

You kept in mind the sleek curves of his collarbones…and the ripples of his back when he rolled his shoulders— the dip of his back to the twitch of his cute little cotton tail.

But mostly his unusual behavior, of course…

You’d thought that maybe it was just a fleeting habit, something that would show its head for a bit before going dormant.

Well it didn’t.

It was movie night. The one night out of the week that was designated for the both of you to relax, unwind, to make up lost time with each other. And relax you did—until you didn’t.

You’d hadn’t even managed to sink into the couch properly before Xavier walks over to you, casual as ever, dressed so non-casually.

The obvious bulge in his sweats was staring at you through the whole movie. You tried not to make eye contact but the act was almost impossible. You wanted to look. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. However, that didn’t stop your cheeks from heating, or quell your racing heart at the thought that…you could just.. grab it. What kind of owner would that make you though? Taking advantage of your sweet bunny? You worry your lip in between your teeth as you move to sit on your hands.

You didn’t want him to shut himself away. Again. You went a whole week without seeing him and it crushed you. You hated it. So you keep a comfortable distance in hopes that you won’t upset him.

This was only the beginning.

Eventually it got to the point where he’d walk around in nothing but a towel every night after his bath. His actions seemed more deliberate after a while.

He’d hold your hips to slide past you in the kitchen. he’d lean over you and peer at you from above with those beautiful blue eyes when you sat on the couch. He’d sit and watch an episode of your favorite show next to you, legs spread and skin still glistening with water.

It wasn’t until tonight that he’d seemed to have had enough.

“Why won’t you touch me?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise and you start to choke on your own spit. You shove your bookmark in the book you were reading and practically toss it onto the table by the couch.

You clear your throat with a curt grunt before facing him with teary eyes. “Xavier, what are you talking about?”

He stands there, looking down his nose at you with an unreadable expression. His eyebrows are scrunched and he can’t quite seem to meet your eyes, opting to stare at a spot on the floor. It was extremely mundane compared to you.

“It’s…I’m so..hot.” He whispers. His fingers twitch at his sides.

You soon wear a look of concern. Now that you’re looking at him his chest is heaving a little heavier than normal. His forehead shines faintly with a sheen of sweat and you tilt your head confused.

“What do you mean? What’s the matter?” When he doesn’t answer right away you shift to the edge of the couch and widen your knees, just enough for him to fit through. You sit up straight and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Hesitantly, he sinks down to his knees before you, nestling in between yours with his hands in his lap. He sneaks a glance at you but quickly turns away.

You press the back of your hand just above his eyebrows. “You are hot…” you trail off. Before you think to stop yourself, you drag your hand along his neck and he flinches. You retract your hand as if it had been burned. “…and flustered.” You whisper. “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird lately? Are you getting sick?”

Xavier sighs. “It seems…I am.” His velvety voice echoes throughout the living room and suddenly the air feels hard to breathe. His hands move from his lap to trail his fingertips up your calves. When he reaches your knees his fingers draw petite patterns along your knee caps. “But…there’s only one way to take care of me when I’m this way.”

Finally, he meets your eyes and you see it. He looks hazy, almost drunk off the tension that swells in the room. Your breath becomes shaky and you feel like you can’t move. Probably because, you can’t. Not anymore.

Xavier’s hands rest beside your hips and he rises, slowly, almost predatory. If the situation had been less intimate, you’d laugh at the irony. All you can do right now is stare at him in anticipation and you start to lean back instinctively as he gets closer. Your elbows catch you as collapse under him.

Your gaze flickers down to his shirtless torso but you look away shamefully. Xavier’s fingers quickly grip your jaw and turn you to face him. Your noses are almost touching and his eyes bore into yours with something desperate.

His warm minty breath hits your face when he speaks. “You seem to know all about how to deal with bunnies, right? Then…” he takes your wrist in his grip and spreads your palm over his chest, “you don’t need any hints?” He keeps his gaze level with yours and he starts to push your hand. Down, down, down. You feel the divot between his pecs and soon the ridges in his abs. It wasn’t long before you were dangerously close to the waistband of his abnormally low pajama pants. Ones that appeared to have a suggestive tent growing in them.

Before you can reach it you resist against him, your arm twitching to pull away. He stops but he doesn’t let go of your wrist.

“Xavier you..w-we can’t.” You try to contain the way your body warms at his ministrations yet, your voice is breathless as if it was punched out of you.

You startled slightly when his knees hit the floor, his body shakes and crumples into your lap. He talks before you can.

“Why?” His voice was deep, deeper than you’d ever heard it and firm, albeit shaky in his current unfamiliar condition. “Why—Why won’t you…” his breath is heavy against your thighs and his back heaves with every inhale.

Your eyes are wide in surprise. Your eyebrows crinkle when you suddenly remember something, something you’d buried inside your head a long time ago when you first looked into homing a hybrid like Xavier. It was a notice that warned new partners of… particular seasonal behaviors. It clicks in your head and your hand hovers over Xavier’s head reluctantly.

“Xavier, are you…in some sort of heat?”

His body jolts and you feel something hard brush against your legs. It’s as if the dam breaks and he keens loudly at the feeling. He tries to catch his breath to reply. “I—hah—I want you to make it go away. Please...” His big, glassy blue eyes look up at you and your body gets shocked with arousal. “…Master.” You gasp quietly and feel the heat flare in your core. You fidget slightly in his grasp. Is this really happening?

You reach out to him and cup his cheek, an innocent gesture, but the second he feels your touch it’s like he can’t live without it. He shoves his face into your palm and his lips part to moan. His hips start to pick up a languid rhythm as he humps against you.

“I tried so hard to get your attention. You didn’t reach out to me, not once. Didn’t even look at me.” Xavier shakes his head frantically. His thrusts get firmer and rock with intent before coming to a jarring halt. His head drops from your hand and the tips of his bangs tickle your thighs. “Do you…regret bringing me here?”

You grip his face and lift his head up to face you. You use your fingers to scrunch his lips into a small pout. You lean down and press them into yours, kissing him with a longing you’ve held for a while. You hoped he could feel it. He groans sweetly and you separate with a soft smack. “Xavier I could never regret you. I wanted to touch you I just.. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.”

He perks up at this, looking up questioningly at your confession. You shake your head dismissively and smile before pecking his forehead, letting go of his face to push coaxingly against his shoulder. “Switch with me. Let’s take care of you, bunny. Yeah?”

His breath hitches in his throat and he groans, eyes squeezing shut to nod aggressively. He quickly takes your spot and now it’s you who’s leaning over him, plopping down to sit on his thighs. You take a moment to truly breathe him in. Xavier was a gorgeous man. Even now with the new and unfamiliar shift in your dynamic, this was the first time you could truly admire him. No sneaking glances or peeking through cracks in the doors, or staring at him through photos you’ve taken together. And this time, he’s actually looking back at you, with the same feverish want.

You start with his ears. They’ve been bobbing on top of his head, standing proud as if begging for attention. You couldn’t help yourself when you reach up to touch them, gently grazing and caressing the fluffy outer shell, just the way he likes. He grunts and you feel his hips stutter. His hands quickly find purchase on your thighs and you feel his fingers dig into you firmly.

You glance down at the sizable bump that sits right below his waistband. It throbs angrily as if trying to escape its confines, trying to get to you. His eagerness is really turning you on.

Your eyes drag up, and up, past the faint veins under his belly button and the chiseled creases of his stomach. Right to his collarbones. You salivate at the thought of finally being able to take the soft, almost porcelain skin into your mouth and ruining it with pretty, red and purple splotches—like you’ve always imagined.

Your eyes settle on his face and dark, half lidded eyes look back at you. His long lashes flutter with anticipation and he tries hard to keep himself from squirming.

However, the second you dip down to take the skin between your lips, he blows caution to the wind. You sink your teeth into the junction between his neck and shoulder and he whimpers. Right into your ear. The sound rings through your ears and clouds your brain, and you don’t register the way you start to bounce at first. It was the pitchy moans and cries that sounded soon after that snapped you out of your haze.

His hips start to buck, searching for something, anything, to tame the heat in his abdomen. He groans with frustration when he realizes you’re sitting too far back and grinding against the fabric of his pajamas is not enough. Your name flows from his mouth in a sickly sweet plead.

You hum into his neck and lick over the mark tenderly, giving it a firm suck before you grab his hips and press them down into the couch.

“Be still, baby. Let your Master claim you. You want that, right?” You purr, choosing another spot to nip the skin between your teeth. He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist while the other trails up your back to tangle his fingers in your hair. Every suck, every lick made him twitch but he endured it. You finally pull back and he looks dazed. His cheeks are red and flushed, and there’s red marks littering his lip where he’s sunk his teeth into it.

Before you can act he thrusts forward, smashing his lips into yours. His hands come to cup and hold your face as he leans back, taking you with him. Your hands are spread over his chest for stability as he devours you and swallows the noises you make. He tugs at the hem of your shirt and you pull away to rip it off, tossing it somewhere on the other end of the couch.

“So pretty…” he mumbles, softly palming the lacy fabric of your bra. He leans forward to kiss the peaks of your boobs before trailing sloppy open mouth kisses up your neck to your jaw. You sigh, dragging one of your hands down his torso, to hook into his pants. With a swift tug you pull them down and tuck them under his balls, his cock slouches from its own weight to rest on his stomach.

You curse at the sight of him. It was smooth like the rest of him. The head was a pretty pink, glistening in so much pre you start to wonder if he’d cum already at some point. You take him in your hand and immediately his head is thrown back. He arches towards you, a whimper on the tip of his tongue. Thanks to his leaky tip it easy for your hand to glide against his length. It soon leaks over the top of your fingers and you bite your lip at the feeling.

“Mmm. S…Stroke me faster, Angel. Please.” He whines breathlessly, his chest heaves violently with every breath and his thighs shake and tense. “Faster, faster, faster…” you follow his instruction, your grip tightening and all that fills the room is the naughty shlicks and moans coming from Xavier. “Yes. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

Finally, finally. He feels your soft skin touch him like this. It was euphoric. The tension in his core was about to snap and he had no time to prepare. This was so much better than what a pillow could give him, or a shirt. His eyes roll back under his eyelids and he can’t seem to shut up. Your hands slide and grope at his chest and he feels an overwhelming rush of adrenaline that he can’t ignore. With what strength he has he hoists himself up to nuzzle into your neck, huffing the sweet scent of you and pressing heated kisses to wherever he could reach. Between the pace you’re going and the weight of you on top of him he’s going to blow his load. Right now.

His body goes rigid and his hand flies up to grip your wrist. “Don’t stop. I—I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum—m’cumming.” His cock was hot to the touch and pulsed aggressively in your hand. White runny ropes of cum stream out and down his tip, running over your fingers to pool at his base. He continues to writhe and wiggle, thrusting into the comfort of your hand through his orgasm.

You loosen your grip when he starts to grunt, giving one last stroke before it flops between you. It was…still hard. As a rock.

Suddenly you feel as though you’re about to fall backwards. Your legs hug his waist and your arms are thrown around his neck. Xavier props you up in his arm and hold you close with the other. “Hold on to me.” He whispers.

You nod, placing a soft kiss just below his chin. He hums, rubbing your back soothingly with his thumb and placing soft pecks of his own against the span of your neck.

Soon your back hits the soft padding of your bed and you grab at Xavier to follow suit. You pull him into sweet kiss and you both hum in delight, Xavier shifts from where he lays comfortably on top of you, pinning you to the mattress.

“I really want to taste you, Angel. May I?” He sits up on his forearms and litters your face with kisses. Kissing your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your temples. You giggle and his heart sings at the noise.

“Yes, bunny.”

He sighs softly, pressing a final kiss to your lips before he sinks down. His lips kiss and lick down your navel to the start of your pajama shorts. He hooks his fingers into the elastic and pulls, tossing them to the side. All that’s left is your panties. They’re a beautiful light blue with lace trim with a cute little bow on top. He thanks his lucky stars for this moment. You looked like some kind of sexy present for him to unwrap. Only for him.

He groans at the wet patch right in the middle. Right where the entrance of your cute little cunt was. Just leaking, begging for him.

“It’s for you.” You call out. He looks up at you through his lashes and the view is burned into brain. You’re bashful now, having being spread open for him like this. Your face is flushed and the curves of your body align perfectly in this angle.

He curses to himself, opting to caress the skin of your inner thighs with his lips. He stops and glances at you again with those deep blue eyes. “I think…” another kiss, “it’s only fair to give you some of my marks as well.” He happily decorates your thighs with purple marks of his own, even forming one into the shape of a heart. You moan dreamily, trying to fight off the urge to close your legs around his head already.

He shoves his nose deeeep into your panties, inhaling deeply at the scent of your arousal. His ears twitch above him and you can even see his tail wag briefly.

“You smell so good. Mm.” He nuzzles into your cunt and his nose catches your clit. It was also mindnumbing how sensitive you were. You jolt with a gasp and your thighs threaten to close on him but he wraps his arms under your legs to keep them apart. His fingers make dents in the soft skin, the sight was erotic.

He places a few more kisses to your cunny before licking a fat stripe right down the middle. Your hips buck at the stimulation but it wasn’t quite enough. You pout down at him. “Don’t tease me, Xavier.”

He chuckles, so quiet it was almost to himself you think. “You got to have your fun. Now I’ll have mine.” He gives your clit a sloppy kiss and pulls your panties to the side. Your slick clings to crotch, seeming as if it didn’t want to let go but it finally pops off, connected by hypnotizing strings.

Xavier groans and wastes no more time. His lips wrap around your clit and suck, your back arches off the bed in ecstasy. Hot waves of heat shoot through your limbs and you keen at him, reach down to card your fingers through his hair and rub at his ears. He moans into your cunt and the vibrations make you shiver.

“You feel—hn—so good.” You cry out shakily. Your hands tighten their grip against his scalp and he grunts, the bed started to wobble as he bucks against the mattress. You feel a pop in your lip as you bite it, the faint taste of copper fills your mouth. His tongue moves up and down in a steady pace, catching and swirling around your hard bud. The tip of it teases the rim of your entrance before easing in, your legs resist and against his grip to close but to no avail.

“You’re so pretty. So pretty, Angel.” He slurs. “Think of you spread for me like this when I touch myself. Love how your body squirms, just from my mouth.”

He spits on cunt and uses it to glide across your clit in quick circles.

“I need you, I need you so bad.” Xavier kisses around your labia tenderly only to dive back in, swallowing whatever he’s able to take from you.

“Xavier, baby, please.” Your hips grind in tangent with his face and you feel your eyes cross. One of your hands moves from his silky strands to grip the sheets instead.

“Gonna cum for me, Master? Give it to me. Let me have it, let your bunny have it—please.” His thrusts start to stutter and he whimpers. His hand leaves your thigh to grab yours, untangling your fingers from the sheets to intertwine them with his own. “Cum for me so I can fill you up.”

Your core tightens and snaps all at once. With a wanton moan you arch into mouth, squeezing his hand to ground you. He squeezes back, eyes fluttering shut as he erupts into your pretty bedsheets.

The room is filled with heavy panting and soft groans. You sounded so good together.

You’re still basking in your afterglow when Xavier sits up, climbing over you with a new glint in his eye. You glance down to see his raging erection is still seeking satisfaction.

“Angel, I need to be inside of you. Please, sweetheart open.” He grabs at your legs that lay limp between his and his hands under your knees to throw them over his shoulders. His brows furrow at the burning sensation of his skin. The tip of his cock kisses the soft plush of your entrance and he looks at you, swooping down to take your lips as his hips push forward.

You’ve never felt so full than you do now, the walls of your wet cunt cling to his cock like a lifeline. You moan into each other at the stretch, his hands once again searching for yours, desperate to ground himself to you like and anchor at sea. His mind is lost in you and only you can find him.

His touches are firm but gentle. He works you open, taking in every jolt and twitch of your body. The feeling he was chasing was finally his, the warm suction of your pussy was slowly taming the fire that lit his bones. His voices catches in his throat.

He needed more. More more more more.

Xavier pulls away from your lips with a soft smack but he doesn’t stray far, he leans forward to touch his forehead to yours and your breaths combine.

“H-How do you feel, does it hurt?”

You shake your head firmly. “Good. Can feel you…” you grab his wrist and drag it over you, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Right here.”

“Shit.” Xavier feels the push and pull of his cock inside you, and his jaw drops at the revelation that every inch of him has been accepted by you. He’s touching parts of you that no one else will ever come close to and it makes him crazy.

“Go faster.” You whine, hooking your heels into his lower back. “I can take it, bunny, promise. Use me to feel better.” You coo at him.

“But I want this to be special.” His pace picks up and you see a line a drool start to spill over his lip. “Love you. I love you…loveyouloveyouloveyou—“

He attacks your neck, licking and sucking colorful spots in places he knows you can’t hide. He wants people to see. See that you’ve been ravished in a way they can only dream of. At the end of the day, you’ll come home to him and he wants everyone to know it.

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become damning, forcing you into the mattress only for your cunt to bounce back up at him, taking him deeper than before.

“Yes!” You squeal, pawing and scratching at his back. “I love you, Xavier! I love you...”

Your name falls from his mouth pitifully, a cry you respond to by peppering his face with small pecks. Your hands fall to cradle his face and your eyes snap shut as your walls clench around him.

“Say you’re mine. Tell me.” He pleads his hands knead your waist and you’re sure you might bruise tomorrow.

“I’m yours! Only yours. Forever and ever.”

His eyes open to gawk at your sweat covered bodies and he watches his cock disappear inside you. A rubber band is forming in the pit of his stomach and his breath hitches.

“Mine. My angel. Gonna fill you up. Gonna give you a big pretty litter. You’d want that, right? I’ll fill your cute cunt whenever you want. Keep you nice and happy and full. Full of me.”

Your mouth hangs open as loud moans escape your throat. His hand comes up to dig into your cheeks and pries your mouth open wider.

Tuah.

A wet blob coats your tongue and your teary eyes open to meet his. The look he gives you sends an intense warmth down your spine.

“Swallow.” Xavier releases you and you close your mouth, shuddering as it travels down your throat. “Good girl. So so good. I knew you’d be perfect for me.”

You whine, touching his chest, his shoulders, his arms, trailing your hands down his hard torso. He coos at the feeling of your fingertips gliding over his hot skin. He takes your hand and flattens it on the left side of his chest. His heart beats against your palm as if it wants to kiss it itself.

“D’you feel it? I’m yours. Master.” His thrusts start to lose rhythm and he pants heavy, using his free hand to rub frenzied circles on your clit. “Please, cum. I want to feel it.”

Your core pulses at his words as if they were the last thrush of water before the dam breaks. And break it does. You clutch him tightly, pulling him down to smash his chest against yours and the synchronizing of your heartbeats comforts you through your high.

Your cunt contracts and twitches violently, and with a long drawn out groan, Xavier shoves his cock as deep as it can go. His cum is hot like lava and you moan as it fills every crease, every crevice, every ridge and nook it can claim.

Finally his hips come to a still and he drops your legs to wrap around his waist, before the full brunt of his weight relaxes into you.

There was a comfortable silence, the sounds of your fatigued breaths filled your ears and you hum. Your fingers run through Xavier’s sweaty hair and you kiss the crown of his head. He nuzzles weakly into your neck.

“You okay, bunny?” You wince at rasp in your voice before peering down at him. His chest has slowed significantly and he’s… really heavy.

“Xavier.” You call out again, using your shoulder to jostle him. Your heart skips in concern when he doesn’t answer and with what strength you have left you rock back and forth enough to flip the both of you over. You quickly balance yourself on his lap, and clench slightly. He was still nestled warmly inside you.

Your hands take to his face, poking and prodding, trying anything to get a reaction. Eventually, his eyelids flicker and he opens his eyes albeit slowly. You sigh in relief and he turns to look at you. He props himself up his elbows, giving you a delicate Eskimo kiss.

He hums. “We’ll have to try this position next time.” His cock had softened a good while ago now, but he still grinds up into you, soft and teasing.

Your face flushes at his vulgarity. How can he say something like that in such a casual tone? You decide to ignore it. “Y-You had me so worried. What happened? Are you okay?” You whisper.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Angel. I’m okay. It’s common for bunnies like me.” His eyes squint cutely and he yawns. “M’sleepy.”

You smile and lean down to press a lazy kiss to his lips. “I’m sure you are, stud. Don’t fall asleep just yet, we gotta clean up.”

He groans reluctantly, but hops to his feet with you in tow. You yelp at the burst of energy and giggle as he blows small raspberries into your neck, carrying you into your—shared—master bathroom.

extra —

You wake up to soft chirps of your name and groggily open your eyes. The sky was still dark but the sun had just started to rise, casting the room into a light cool blue.

“Xavier? Whas’ wrong?” You whisper. Your eyes shoot open when you feel something hard poke into your ass.

He grunts as his hips jerk against you. “M’sorry m’sorry I..I’m really hot.”

This was going to be a long weekend.

-`♡´- tag list — @froleineeeee @hitorim106 @silverbrain

#lads #love and deepspace #lads xavier #lnds xavier #love and deepspace xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #xavier smut #bunny xavier #xavier x mc #xavier x you #love and deepspace fic

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jeonginsleftcheek · 3 days ago

Text

You're my comfort person

pairing: felix x afab!reader

warnings: period sex, lix is just sweet and gentle, soft lovemaking, pls i will cry

genre: fluffy smut

wc: 1.5k

a/n: i'm dying in pain so i needed this (this is disgustingly cute)

"Hey, is it any better?" Felix appeared next to the bed where you were currently clutching at your stomach with all sorts of blankets wrapped up around you.

"Just a little bit." you answered weakly, he had brought you some tea and painkillers earlier in hopes of helping alleviate your pain.

Felix looked at you with big sad puppy eyes, frustrated that you were in so much pain.

"We can cuddle?" he suggested and you nodded quickly, wanting to feel him close to you. Felix crawled under the blankets, wrapping his arms around you as he spooned you, his palms gently caressing where it hurt.

You relaxed a little bit as his body warmed you up, your boyfriend's presence comforting like always.

"You know..." he trailed off after some time in that tone. You knew he was going to say something out of the pocket so you rolled your eyes playfully, turning to look at him as he grinned impishly at you.

"What?" you grinned back.

"I heard sex can help with period pain. Especially when you cum, 'cause you relax and all that. I also heard that period make you more sensitive so you like... enjoy it more." Felix rambled.

"And where did you hear all that?" you lifted your brow at him.

"Google. I read an article." he answered and you giggled, shaking your head.

"All for some pussy, huh?" you teased him.

He laughed, poking your side gently.

"Not just any pussy, only yours." he wiggled his eyebrows, diving into a kiss.

"I don't know..." you sighed after you parted. "You might be grossed out."

Felix shook his head at that, pulling you into his body as you faced him.

"I'd never be grossed out by you. And periods are natural, there is nothing gross about them."

You whined at his words, burying your face in his neck and inhaling.

"You can't be real." you said and he laughed, squeezing you a little. "How did I get so lucky?"

"I'm the lucky one." Felix put his hand on your face and made you look at him.

"If you don't feel comfortable, I won't bother you with it anymore. But I promise, I won't be grossed out."

"Fine, we can try it." you said after a moment of thinking.

"Are you sure?" he asked once more.

"Yeah, I'm sure." you nodded and he smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up.

"Okay, I'll bring a towel. Be right back."

"Feeling okay? Are you cold?" Felix asked a few moments later, as your naked body shivered underneath him.

He had placed the towel on the bed so it wouldn't be too messy.

"Just a little embarrassed is all." you said with a sheepish smile, your cheeks warming up while Felix observed your face for any sign of discomfort.

"Babe, you literally peed while I was brushing my teeth the other day. I think we're past being embarrassed with each other." he said and you smacked his arm, chuckling.

"Shut up, I really had to go then and you were taking so long!" you whined and he giggled.

"I don't mind." Felix shook his head before leaning down to kiss you gently. "Just relax, my love." he added quietly, his hands caressing your hips, gently travelling up to your stomach and sides.

You closed your eyes, relaxing as he started kissing your jaw, down to your neck, all the while his hands were slowly mapping out your body, mesmerized by your curves and dips even though he had you many times before, he was always amazed by the beauty of you.

Felix cupped your breasts and you let out a quiet whimper as he bit into your neck, sucking on the skin and claiming you as his.

"L-Lix." you breathed out and he smirked against you as he played with your sensitive nipples.

"J-Just be gentle." you stuttered as he squeezed your breasts, massaging them and leaning down to lick at your hardened bud.

"Of course, my love." he whispered, wrapping his plump lips around your nipple and sucking. A wave of arousal washed over your body and you felt it dripping down on the towel, feeling a little embarrassed as you wondered if it was blood.

But Felix was touching you and kissing you so sweetly, making your head spin and your body tingle so much that you almost forgot about the embarrassment. Almost.

After spending a good amount of time worshipping your breasts, Felix reached to grab a condom from the nightstand.

"You wanna continue?" he asked and you nodded.

You looked at him as he ripped it open and grabbed his cock, giving himself a few pumps. You licked your lips at the sight of him, his skin was flushed, his cock leaking with pre-cum, his brows furrowed as he bit on his lip and rolled the condom on.

"So sexy." you sighed dreamily and he looked up at you, face breaking into a smirk.

"Oh yeah?" he kneeled between your legs. "You want me, hm?"

"So much." you said, your body arching towards his. He grabbed his cock, pressing it against you as he looked down and touched your clit with his tip.

"Don't look." you whined and Felix chuckled.

"Why not?"

"It probably looks gross."

"No, it doesn't. Relax, baby." he caressed your face with his free hand as he slowly started to push in.

A whimper escaped your lips as he slid in easily, filling you up perfectly when he bottomed out.

"Fuck." Felix's body shook for a second as he propped himself on his hands, giving you both a moment to breathe.

"Felix..." you whimpered, grabbing at him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked and you shook your head.

"No, you can move." you said as you wrapped your arms around him.

Felix nodded, his hands gentle on your hips as he started moving with slow and deliberate thrusts, making you feel every inch of his perfect cock, his tip hitting your g-spot every time he pushed in.

"You're so wet, baby." he groaned, keeping the pace as he rocked you gently.

"Mm." you moaned, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

"Feels good?" Felix asked, his hands sliding back up to cup your breasts again as he fucked into you with languid thrusts.

"So good." you moaned out, feeling yourself relaxing more and more even though your pussy was clenching and gripping his cock.

"Yeah? Feels so good for me too." he groaned, leaning down to nip at your neck again.

"Lixie." you whimpered as he pressed himself against you and you wrapped your legs around him, allowing him to push in even deeper.

"Y/n." he moaned your name as he kept fucking you, a little harder now but still keeping the movement languid and slow.

"I'm gonna cum." you whimpered, feeling sensitive and overwhelmed as his happy trail kept brushing against your clit and the tip of his hard cock kept pressing into your sweet spot.

"Mm. Me too." Felix moaned out, squeezing your breasts, fingertips pinching your nipples lightly.

It crashed over you like a tidal wave as you clenched around him, moaning his name loudly as you came around his cock.

"Ugh, fuck. I love you." Felix grunted, his hips stuttering as he fucked into you a bit harder before he came inside the condom.

"I love you too, Lixie." you gripped at his back, digging your nails into his skin as he rode his high.

Both of you breathed hard as you held each other and he buried his face in your neck.

After a few moments he looked up at you with a smile.

"So? Is your pain gone?" Felix asked.

"It is. I feel more relaxed." you said.

"Really? I was gonna say if it's not, we can go for round 2." he winked at you and you laughed.

"Don't push it."

"I tried." he pouted jokingly before pulling out.

"Is it gross?" you asked, covering your eyes.

"No, it's okay baby, don't worry about it." you heard him shuffling around, his footsteps leading towards the bathroom and then the sound of water.

He came back as you still had your eyes covered, a giggle escaping his lips before you felt the warm wet cloth pressed against you as he started cleaning you up.

You peeked at him through your fingers and almost melted as he stared at your face with a biggest smile.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing. You're just cute." Felix teased.

"Am not. That must be you." your voice was muffled as you hid yourself behind your palms again.

"You wanna cuddle again?" he asked.

"Yes, after a shower." you scrunched up your face, finally looking at him.

Felix laughed, extending his hand and helping you up, the two of you making your way to the bathroom.

When you laid next to your boyfriend that night, you nuzzled into him as he held you.

"Felix?"

"Yes?"

"You're my comfort person." you mumbled against his collarbone and he smiled, kissing your head.

"You're mine too." he whispered as you drifted off into blissful sleep.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world

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luv-lock · 2 days ago

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ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤUGLY LOVEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Reader Part 3

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : You couldn't do it anymore. You don't want this. You don't want this relationship, his love, him. And so you tried to end it...

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Mark was still holding you.

Still comforting you.

Still treating you like something fragile, something breakable, something precious.

And you couldn’t stand it.

You pulled away.

Abrupt. Sharp. Cold.

The warmth of Mark’s hands slipped from your skin, and for the first time tonight, you felt cold.

The sheets pooled around your waist as you sat up, forcing yourself to breathe, forcing yourself to keep the words from getting caught in your throat.

It was now or never.

"I want to break up."

The words came out blunt. Flat. Devoid of hesitation.

Mark froze.

Like the whole world had just stopped.

Like he couldn’t comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

"...What?"

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

At the wide, confused eyes. The slight tremble of his lips. The complete and utter disbelief written across his face.

And you felt nothing.

No guilt. No hesitation. No regret.

Just exhaustion.

"I don’t want to be with you anymore," you repeated, each word precise, cutting, final.

Mark let out a soft laugh—short, breathless, like he thought this was some kind of joke.

Like you couldn’t possibly mean it.

"...Y-You’re just tired," he said quickly, stepping forward, reaching for your hands. "I—I get it, tonight was a lot, and you’re overwhelmed, but—"

You yanked your hands back.

His smile faltered.

His brows furrowed. "Wait—"

You clenched your jaw.

Of course he would do this.

"You’re not listening," you muttered, shoving the sheets off you and standing up.

"Y/N—"

You ignored him.

Started dressing.

Pulled on your underwear, your pants, your shirt—quick, efficient movements, not looking at him, not saying another word.

But Mark was following you.

Hovering.

Like a lost puppy.

"Wait—wait, please just talk to me," he said, his voice rising slightly, cracking at the edges, desperation leaking in. "Tell me what’s wrong—tell me why—"

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t even spare him a glance.

You just grabbed your things and headed for the door.

But before you could reach it—

Strong arms wrapped around you.

Tight. Unyielding.

A desperate, suffocating embrace.

Mark’s face buried in your hair, his breathing uneven, shaking.

And when you opened your mouth to yell at him—

He cut you off.

A soft, broken whisper—

"Please... Please don’t go."

You froze.

Because his voice—

It was wrong.

Fragile. Trembling.

Utterly, completely wrecked.

And then you felt it.

The way his body was shaking.

The wetness against your hair.

Mark was crying.

"I love you," he whispered, voice raw. "I love you so much—I can’t—I can’t do this without you—"

Your stomach twisted.

"Please don’t leave me," he begged, pressing his face deeper into your neck, his arms tightening around you like if he let go, you would disappear. "I don’t care if you’re mad, if you hate me—just don’t go—please, I’ll do anything—"

You shut your eyes.

Felt his tears against your skin.

Felt his hands trembling as they clung to you, gripping your clothes like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

He was pathetic.

Completely and utterly pathetic.

And for the first time—

You felt sick.

Not at him.

But at yourself.

Because deep down, you had always known this would happen.

You had always known how much he loved you.

How much he needed you.

And still, you had let it go this far.

Still, you had taken everything from him.

And now, standing there, trapped in his arms, feeling his entire body shake against yours—

You didn’t know how to undo it.

Mark was seven years old when he lost his favorite comic.

And it was not just any comic.

Not just some random issue.

It was "Science Dog #1."

His prized possession. The one comic he loved more than anything. The one his dad gave him for his birthday, the one he read every night, the one he took everywhere—and now it was gone.

He sat on the curb outside the store, miserable, blinking fast to keep from crying.

He was not gonna cry.

He was not—

"Oi. The fuck’s up with you?"

A voice.

Mark looked up.

It was a girl.

She stood in front of him, arms crossed, chewing on a lollipop stick.

Her hoodie was too big for her. Her sneakers were busted. And her knees was absolutely destroyed—bruised, scraped, covered in Band-Aids like she got into a fight with a sidewalk and lost.

Mark blinked. "...What?"

She squinted.

Then—without asking—she dropped down next to him, legs sprawled out, rocking back on her hands like they’d been friends forever.

"You deaf?" she said. "I said— the fuck’s up with you?"

Mark’s brain short-circuited.

He just stared.

"...You cussed."

"Yeah?" She raised a brow. "And? Your dad gonna come outta nowhere and beat my ass?"

Mark frowned. "My dad doesn’t beat children."

"Well, mine does."

Mark had no idea what to say to that.

"Why you look like you just watched your dog get shot?"

Mark gasped. "WHAT?!"

"I’m asking why you look sad, dipshit."

After an awkward silence, he just mumbled, "I lost my comic."

She tilted her head. "Okay?"

"It was my favorite one," he muttered.

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

"Jesus Christ. You’re seriously out here looking like your whole family just got shot ‘cause you lost a comic?"

Mark flushed. "It was Science Dog #1!"

She froze.

Eyes widening.

Then—

"PFFFT—"

She started laughing.

Mark’s face burned. "It’s not funny!"

"Yes, it is!" She wiped a fake tear.

Mark grumbled, crossing his arms. "You're rude."

"And you suck!" she shot back instantly, shoving his shoulder. "Damn, you’re a whiny little bitch."

Mark’s mouth dropped open. "You can’t just say that!"

"Yeah? What are you, my mom?"

He gawked. "You smell."

"And you’re still crying over a comic book."

Mark huffed. "It was important."

"...Tch." She clicked her tongue, thinking. Then, she stood up.

"Alright, Crybaby, let’s go."

Mark blinked. "Huh?"

She shrugged. "I got money. You in or what?"

Mark lit up. "Really?!"

"Yeah, yeah, don’t nut yourself over it, Jesus." She cracked her knuckles. "Let’s go, before I change my mind."

Mark practically jumped to his feet.

He followed her across the street, into the tiny comic book store he loved so much, his heart racing with excitement.

The comic shop was small, but perfect—rows of shelves stacked with old issues, that perfect scent of paper and ink filling the air.

Mark immediately found the new Science Dog #1 reprint.

His heart soared. "I found it!"

But when he turned—

She was gone.

Mark blinked. "Uh—?"

Then—

"HEY!!! YOU LITTLE BITCH—!"

Mark jumped.

The store owner yelled from behind the counter, scrambling out of his chair.

And then—

SHE CAME SPRINTING OUT.

Laughing.

"RUN, LOSER!" she screeched, grabbing his wrist.

Mark didn’t even have time to react.

He just ran.

His legs scrambled to keep up as she dragged him down the street, the old man behind them shouting, "GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!"

Mark panicked. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"I GOT YOU THE FUCKING COMIC!" she cackled.

Mark’s heart stopped. "YOU STOLE IT?!"

"YOU SAID YOU WANTED IT!"

"NOT LIKE THIS!"

But she was laughing—laughing like she’d never had more fun in her life, gripping his wrist as they ran through the alley, dodging trash cans and stray cats until—

They finally stopped.

Panting.

Gasping for breath.

Mark was wheezing.

"You—" he gasped. "You—stole it—"

"Duh." She smirked, holding up the comic. "Here ya go, loser."

Mark stared.

"Don’t say I never did anything good for ya," she said, giving him a mocking little salute.

Mark hesitated.

Then—very slowly—he reached out and took it.

Held it in his hands.

It was real.

He looked back at her. "...Thanks?"

She grinned.

Then—

He saw the other two comics.

The special edition ones.

The glass-case ones.

The ones that were not for sale.

His soul left his body.

"YOU STOLE THOSE TOO?!"

"I— didn’t want you to feel like a broke bitch," she shrugged. "Figured I’d grab the good shit while I was at it."

"WE’RE GONNA GO TO JAIL!"

"Relax, nerd, no one’s gonna catch us." She patted his cheek. "Now take ‘em before I change my mind."

Mark wanted to die.

He looked around, panicking. "We have to take them back!"

She snorted. "Yeah, no."

"WE STOLE FROM HIM!"

"I stole from him," she corrected, poking his chest. "You just stood there looking pretty."

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!"

She sighed dramatically. "Damn, you whine more than my little cousin." she shoving the comics into his hands. "Just shut up and take ‘em."

Mark stared at them.

Then back at her.

"...Why?"

She blinked. "Huh?"

Mark swallowed. "Why’d you steal them for me?"

She stared.

Then she rubbed the back of her neck. "...I dunno. You looked pathetic as shit."

Mark froze.

Before he could say anything—

She punched his chest.

Not hard. Just a light fist bump.

"Atta boy."

Then she grinned, stuffing her hands in her hoodie pockets.

"See ya around, loser."

And then—

She just walked off.

Laughing.

Mark stood there.

Holding stolen comics.

Heart pounding.

Mouth slightly open.

That was the first time he ever saw her.

And even though he was horrified—

Something in his chest...

Felt warm.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 2.

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navydoves · 3 days ago

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Bunny!Xavier and his strange affectionate habits

there’s always something new with your bunny boyfriend. his habits are so strange!

✎ᝰ a/n: i guess this is a series now lmao. if i were to do zayne or caleb, what animals would they even be. cat and dog? we’ll have to figure this out >_>

dragon sylus version

mermaid rafayel version

𖤐

❥ he nibbles on you! it’s gotten to be a little bit of a problem, but xavier can’t help himself. he’ll nibble on your skin and hair until there are tiny little red marks painted on you. at first you thought these were little hickeys, but the real explanation is much more innocent.

bunnies nibble to groom you! he’ll especially groom you when you’re bed rotting or are too lazy to get up. he wants to make sure you’re clean and if you’re not taking care of yourself — he will! but he also nibbles to get your attention. xavier is known to be pouty and clingy, so if he’s low on your love today he’ll forcefully sit on your lap and nibble on your face until you give in.

❥ he hides in your hair. whenever xavier feels overwhelmed or stressed, he’ll go straight to you and dig his head in your hair. it’s a combination of your scent and your shielding hair strands that gives him a sense of safety. he likes the way your hair feels against his skin along with the way it keeps him warm.

but still — wet, dry, tangled, brushed; he really doesn’t care what your hair is looking like, as long as he can bury his nose in your scalp and close his eyes. this also makes for a good cuddling session!

❥ he eats everything. xavier has the appetite of three elephants and then another three elephants. whether he can cook or not is irrelevant, even if he burns something to the point of it being inedible, he’ll still eat it. snacks you’ve saved for later or baked good you’ve left out gets gobbled immediately by him, and it was only ‘til you scolded him that he stopped. stopped taking you food that is, he’ll still beg.

if he smells a meal in the house he’ll quickly sit next to you and smile silently, hoping that you’ll spare him a piece. he’s learned to be less greedy, go easy on him — but he’ll become extremely elated if you give him a quick nibble. he wouldn’t even ask for a full piece of chicken or bread, just a little slither is enough to keep him happy. he thinks of eating together as bonding.

❥ he mimics you. sometimes consciously, mostly unconsciously, xavier will pick up and mimic your habits. if you have a habit of playing with your hair, xavier will also start playing with his hair to mirror you. if you touch your necklace in thought, xavier will also touch his imaginary necklace while he thinks. it wasn’t until he picked up on your manner of sneezing that you realized you left an impression on him.

you didn’t say anything at first: finding it rather endearing how xavier unknowingly imitates you. but once you brought it up in passing xavier tilted his head in confusion. did he really mimic you that much? he was a little oblivious to that fact, apparently. but even with that realization, xavier doesn’t try and stop himself learning from you. in fact, he tries to tease you by imitating you even more. he loves being like you because he simply just loves you.

❥ he teases you with his ears. xavier knows how much you love his ears, so he’ll use them to his advantage to play. when you’re asleep and he wants you awake, he’ll climb the bed, lean into your face, and move one of his ears over your cheek to stir you awake. in a similar fashion, he’ll use his ears to wrap around your head or wrist as another way to embrace you. the fluffy feel of his ears was always welcome on your skin, it felt like a hug from a pillow.

but by far his favourite way to use his ears on you was when he lightly traced your midsection and thighs with the very tips of his fluff. it tickles you slightly, but the purpose of this tease was to get you riled up and beg for a little more contact. he obliges, of course, but slowly. he loves taking his time with you. by the end of it all, his ears around wrapped around your thighs as he satiates his hunger in a different way this time.

❥ he claps when he’s happy. this can be mistaken as a normal human habit, but xavier does it much more often and eagerly than any regular person. his hands will patter together rapidly to create a very quiet but joyful sound. he has no “normal” way of clapping, he only does it in one specific way to show how content he is. if he thinks the sound is too distracting for the moment, he’ll hide his hands behind his back and pitter-patter them there.

even over small things like finding his favourite ramen in-stock at the store, he’ll clap very quietly to himself before putting it in the cart, and later on, when he gets to show you what he got from the store, he’ll start clapping again from how happy he is to share his excitement. as reserved as he is on the outside, xavier is very chipper on the inside.

𖤐

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swordgrace · 3 days ago

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❝ 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: wedded to cregan stark, a man you’ve never met , in an arrangement of convenience, you come to learn that even a wolf’s stoicism is rather deceiving.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: cregan stark x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.1K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), arranged marriage, reader & cregan are strangers, virgin!cregan and virgin!reader, cregan is really sweet in this, mutual loss of virginity, talk of insecurities relating to appearance, heavy kissing, size kink / size difference, brief handjob & fingering (fem!rec), groping, unprotected p in v sex, descriptions of cum, creampie, obligatory stark breeding kink, missionary position, soft ending + aftercare.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was so so so fun to write, it’s a different take on cregan from how I usually write him as experienced, and lowkey loved this! I really hope that you all love this as much as I loved writing it! thank you for any support, much love! 🫶

DUTY — THE BANE OF LOVE, THE FOUNDATION OF ALL HONORABLE MEN, THE SPINE OF THE REALM; A SACRIFICE. A NECESSARY SACRIFICE, THE PLEDGE OF A MAN GROWN, OF A FLEDGLING LORD NOW COMING INTO HIS OWN POWER AND CERTAINTY.

Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, was to be wed beneath the Weirwood Tree, boughs of an ancient crimson serving as the canopy to his newly-forged union with you.

A man of nine-and-ten, it was expected of him — unions with advantageous houses, married to a woman in exchange for something he did not have. It was not in his nature to be fraught with nerves in the face of uncertainty; as he grew into his role as Lord, so too did his confidence grow.

Not only was the growing wolf deemed a strong man, he was adept with a longsword and a proficient fighter. Cregan had excelled at his duties as Lord of Winterfell — however, marriage is where he assumed he’d falter.

Inevitably, he knew that he would find himself in this predicament, sworn to marry a suitable prospect from a noble house. His advisors had arranged a rather promising match to a maiden of House Connington, an exceedingly wealthy name, well-known in the Stormlands.

Northern alliances were already strong, built upon blood, steel, and an unyielding winter — it would be useful to have an ally further South.

He did not know what you looked like; your temperament, moral character, or if you would even find him favorable. It was not often that Cregan allowed himself to be plagued by lingering insecurities, but they seemed to weigh heavy within his mind.

Fortunately, such sentiments were shared by you, unbeknownst to him.

Griffin’s Roost was all you’d known, a lifetime spent in the Stormlands until you had reached maturity, now pledged to the Warden of the North. It pained you to leave what life you knew before, surrounded by family and the comforts of home.

The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Ice-laden gales sang from beyond the Wall, bringing with it their callousness, whispers from savage lands.

Accustomed to the temperate forests and raging deluges of the Stormlands, the North’s biting chill would take plenty of adaptation on your end. The host of House Connington had arrived in all of their glory and bravado, bearing the twin griffin sigil, white upon crimson, crimson upon white.

From what little you gleaned of Cregan Stark, he was already a talented fighter, as thick as the trunk of an elder pine, and somewhat rugged around the edges. Roughness did not trouble you as it had other women — perhaps, it would give him character.

Part of you counted yourself fortunate to marry someone close to you in age, only one nameday your senior — plenty of women did not have such luck. Even then, you were frightened and nervous, hoping to make a lasting impression upon your new husband.

Much to your dismay, everyone seemed so eager to marry you off — to seal whatever pact had been struck, for you to begin your new life here, in the North. You hoped that you would find new companionship and comfort in your new home, but you neglected to get your hopes up.

The Old Gods were prevalent in Northern culture — the Faith of the Seven was nearly nonexistent here, a practice that your family had staunchly followed since your infancy. There were plenty of adjustments you would need to make in order to assimilate.

Sequestered within the guest chambers of your Northern host, handmaidens whose faces were unfamiliar to you helped dress you in your wedding gowns. It was a sentimental piece, handcrafted by your Mother before you departed from the Roost, a gown of crimson and silver.

Northern ceremonies were said to be much shorter, a tryst of few words outside of sacred vows. Your cloak hung heavy upon your shoulders, velvet encased by a line of fur, bearing the sigil of your House.

A lengthy, tarnished mirror sat before you, crystalline enough for you to admire your appearance, tresses pinned in intricate braids, visage dabbled with little cosmetics. You were to be given away by your uncle, journeying in the stead of your ailing father, Gods bless him.

With no facet of your appearance misplaced, you were prepared to make the journey to the Godswood, with your uncle upon your arm. As you stepped through ancient stone and over frozen ground, your heart hammered beneath your breast, like the beating of a bird's wings.

Anxiousness gnawed away at your fragile bones throughout your trek, mind continuing to race with a great many thoughts. What if he thought you ugly, or boorish? What if he was unkind or uncouth? What if the consummation was not satisfactory enough?

These were all feckless inquiries, born of your own insecurities and desire to make your new husband happy, make the most of your new life. Despite the biting chill that clung to your visage, perspiration slicked your palms, teeth absentmindedly gnashing against the inside of your cheek.

The dusky skies were blanketed by a penumbra of endless stars, as if the celestials themselves had gathered to witness your sacred union. Wisps of gray clouds scattered overhead, but soon dissipated in the wake of the moon’s glow.

Silvery rays touched a light snowfall, now muddled with hints of broken earth. There was no deluge to cast doubt upon your wedding — it was all endlessly clear, and the ice ceaselessly continued to stab at your exposed flesh.

The Godswood lay silent, surrounded by only a handful of Lord Stark’s closest advisors and kin, braziers lighting the way forward. Your grip upon your uncle’s arm became ironclad, as if you were attempting to hold on with every shred of strength in your bones.

Beneath vermillion leaves and pale bark, stood Lord Cregan Stark, with eyes as gray as winter’s shadow, chestnut tresses halfway pulled into a bun, the rest slicked with oils. He was nearly twice your size, frame clad in the taupe pelt of a wolf, countenance indiscernible from afar.

He was handsome, thank the Seven; and the closer you stepped, the more you realized that he possessed the same nervousness as you. One wouldn’t expect a man of his caliber to show it, but he did, the sentiment reaching his gaze.

As you reached the end, given to Cregan by your uncle, your stomach tumbled with butterflies, blood singed with anxiety. Cregan’s nervousness was far more subdued, though it lingered even still, especially as his large hand closed around yours.

Much to your surprise, the embrace of your Lord-husband was disarmingly gentle, coarse leather folding over your delicate palm. Storm-laden hues briefly fluttered toward you, as if searching for any scrap of discomfort caused by his own hand.

Vows were exchanged between strangers — and soon, in hours, you would not be so strange anymore.

“Will you take this man?”

It was your uncle’s voice, as spoken in Northern customs to give you away. He seemed uncertain as his inquiry filled the space around you, and yet you answered with a startling clarity.

“I take this man.”

In this close proximity, it allowed Cregan ample time to absorb you; a comely, beautiful stranger, soon to be the new Lady of Winterfell. It was your very presence that intimidated even the likes of him, enchanted by your delicate voice and beguiling appearance, features akin to the very image of perfection.

Admittedly, you stole every wisp of air from his burning lungs, something that he would not dare confess to — not here, at least. Fortunately, you did not seem terrified; nervous, perhaps, but that was to be expected.

Kneeling before the shadow of the Weirwood, Cregan uttered a brief prayer — he did not expect you to do the same. These traditions were likely a stark contrast to your own, something that perplexed him to no end.

In the recesses of your mind, you wondered what his heart was like — his interests, passions, the essence of his character. He seemed stalwart and rugged, as you’d been told, but he did not seem cruel nor callous, much to your relief.

He stood, unclasping your maiden’s cloak from your shoulders, presenting you with one crafted of elk’s hide and the tawny, dappled coat of a doe. It bore the sigil of House Stark, a direwolf embroidered onto thicker material, now swaddling your form in all of its warmth.

With your former House now by the wayside, the wedding feast was set to begin.

“My Lady,” As his husky, Northern timbre spilled forth from his mouth, hand outstretched, you took it, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Those onlookers who surrounded you in the Godswood looked on with subtle admiration for their young Lord. “It is tradition that I carry you to the feast.”

Cregan would not dare abandon the formalities of his countrymen, knowing full well that many eyes were upon him to uphold tradition. He sensed your twinge of hesitation, followed by a wave of embarrassment, however, you did not recoil from his gallant advances.

Knowing that he had an appearance to maintain, you nodded, both smitten and shy as thick, leather-clad arms hooked beneath your legs and back. It was effortless, the way he had hoisted you into his grasp, carrying you close to his chest as he began to make his way from the Godswood.

“I apologize if this is not comfortable, my Lady,” Even he found some wry amusement in this, all in a valiant attempt to ease the tension between you. “Once we arrive in the Great Hall, I shall put you down.” He assured, though your expression said otherwise.

“I insist upon you carrying me throughout the evening,” A playful lilt clung to your tone, and it seemed to ease Cregan’s nerves — at least you had a sense of humor about you. “I jest, my Lord. I must admit that I am a stranger to journeying through snow and ice.”

A brief huff escaped him, and the idle conversation slowly dissolved the foreign barrier between the both of you. Truthfully, he did not want his marriage to you to be distant, or icy. Northern superstitions dictated that snow during a wedding meant a cold union — fortunately, the skies were clear.

“You will grow accustomed to it soon enough.” Solemn, the young Lord ascended stone steps, making his way into the courtyard. The Great Hall would be full of people, most of them his own kin and denizens, as well as your host from the Stormlands.

A bout of silence occupied the space between you, your form lodged firmly against his chest, laden with muscle beneath his leather garb. Admittedly, you found a sliver of comfort within his hold, one that screamed with protection and a sense of security. It made you feel less unnerved.

In such close proximity, Cregan caught a gust of your scent; saccharine, bringing with it the warmth of the South, a touch of rainfall from the Stormlands. You did not seem perturbed by him carrying you — you fit within the crook of his arms rather perfectly.

Snow crunched beneath his boots, stricken with an ethereal glow from the face of the moon, glistening down to light your path. Smitten, your gaze briefly darted to admire his countenance — youthful yet worn, the bridge of his nose slightly crooked, a faint scar upon his chin.

Wisps of warmth emerged from between your lips, acclimating to the chill as best as you could. As you neared Winterfell’s Great Hall, rancor and excitement spilled from inside, orange light pooling from beneath the doors.

Cregan ascended another flight of stone steps, seemingly unbothered by cradling you, and once you reached the end, he gently deposited you onto solid ground. “Here we are.” Offering you his arm, you took it, led into the warmth of the castle’s archaic interior.

Met with the gleeful cheers of those in attendance, your host and his own, you narrowly avoided being pelted with flying deluges of ale. It was a merry hall, filled with immeasurable joyousness and laughter, which eased your anxiousness quite a bit.

Sentiments might shift once many of them sobered up, you imagined, but for now, you were delighted to enjoy your wedding feast. Your staunch husband led you through the commotion and gathering crowds with ease until you reached your table.

Situated at the helm of the hall, he politely moved your chair for you, allowing you to be seated before himself as he took his place by your side. A scarlet flush clung to his features, wisps of chestnut strands framing his strong visage.

The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach pulled taut, a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and thinly-veiled curiosity.

Following the exchange of toasts and presentation of foodstuffs, you became lost within contemplation, dreading the bedding ceremony that was sure to follow. You hoped that, if you closed your eyes, it would simply pass you by.

Cregan’s gaze remained transfixed upon you whenever you weren’t looking, blissfully oblivious to your husband’s ogling. He found you to be perfectly beautiful in all senses of the word — vexing, truly. Even he was not immune to the heated, carnal thoughts drifting within his mind.

Though, he was a touch nervous — unexpectedly so.

Carnal escapades were often packed into the richly-woven tales of his fellow advisors and compatriots, and it all seemed self-centered when they spoke of consummation. Cregan worried that he would fumble over himself, not know where to put his hands, let alone touch you.

As you prodded your fork into the seared haunch of meat, you happened to steal a glance at Cregan, and to your surprise, he’d already been staring at you. Warmth permeated your features, lashes fluttering as you cleared your throat.

Caught, he decided to be forthcoming in the matter. “Forgive me for staring, my Lady — you are rather beautiful,” He spoke plainly, blunt as he ensured you let his words sink in. Flattered, your lips quirked into a jubilant smile. “Is it all to your liking?”

A buzz of exhilaration bubbled within your belly, prompting you to sit a little straighter. “You flatter me, my Lord,” As you began to chew, a myriad of spices and flavors invaded your maw, sitting heavy upon your tongue. “It is — I must thank you for your hospitality.”

“This is your home now, as it is mine. You are deserving of such cordiality,” Cregan’s timbre had dissolved into a pleasant rumble, the cadence of it scratching at the back of your mind. You quite enjoyed his gruff nature, more than most. “I wish for you to be happy.”

The softness of his words made your stomach lurch with butterflies, lips parting in mild surprise. Admittedly, you had grown accustomed to the husbands commonplace within your life — they rarely took interest in their wives, especially with regard to their happiness.

“I … You have my gratitude, my Lord. I wish for you to be happy, in-turn,” Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you continued. “I know that we are somewhat foreign to one another, but I do not prefer it to stay that way.” You confessed.

Perplexed, Cregan’s brow furrowed momentarily, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even for his youth, he was a stoic man — he had endured plenty, hardening him to the outside world. However, he found it within himself to treat you gently, perhaps surrender a sliver of gentleness to you.

“I would not prefer it, either,” Cregan replied, an amiable shimmer dancing within his wintry-gray hues. Delighted, you reached for his hand, much larger than your own, his skin calloused. He allowed you to hold it, reveling in your velveteen flesh. “Perhaps, we can tour the Wolfswood on the morrow — how are your riding skills?”

Perhaps it was the twinge of wine invading your bloodstream, but your thoughts had strayed on the side of perversion. A brief hitch formed within your throat before you hummed. “They are better than some,” You mused. “I’ve a great passion for horses, and for the outdoors.”

Making note of your interests, he knew precisely what to give you, a forlorn warmth stirring within his chest. Whatever impact you had on him, it was beginning to take some effect, reducing him to naught but boyish nerves.

Admittedly, Cregan hadn’t expected you to be this lively and jubilant — he expected terror and indifference, but this was a welcome change. It dissolved some of his initial reservations, but it was still too early to make any hasty judgments.

It had melted the ice somewhat, conversing about menial topics, allowing himself to grow accustomed to your presence. It would take plenty of work — fortitude, determination, kindness. Cregan did not want to sow any discord in your budding union.

“Tell me of Griffin’s Roost,” Cregan murmured, intrigued by your place of birth. The castle itself was said to be humble yet resolute, using the surrounding countryside to its advantage. “I’ve heard it sits upon some crag.”

A comely smile fluttered across your features, grasp beginning to loosen upon his hand. Returning to your hearty meal, you chewed, throat bubbling with a gentle hum. “It overlooks Cape Wrath, surrounded by red stone cliffsides — the view from the East Tower is wonderful.”

With a low grunt, your Lord-husband proved most attentive, posture beginning to slump into some relaxation within his seat. “Should my duties not become insurmountable, perhaps we could visit in a few moons time.”

Despite his desire to heed to the North, to remain planted, safeguard his lands, Cregan understood the importance of home. He did not want you to completely abandon your roots in exchange for Northern traditions.

Touched by such a proposition, you nodded in agreement, thankful that he’d suggested it. It meant more to you than he might’ve realized. “I would deeply appreciate such a journey, my Lord. I am certainly looking forward to learning of your home and its people.”

Loyalty seemed a core value amongst Northerners, their bond ironclad, a pact of ice. Such devotion amongst kin was comforting to witness, a web that you desired to be part of, with time. Duties of a lady were not lost upon you, but anxiousness stirred whenever you contemplated the future.

The Lady of Winterfell — the title itself was daunting, something you never imagined for yourself, foreign upon your tongue. The weight of it was a crushing one, but you hoped to soar beneath the pressure, impress both the people and your Lord-husband.

The sincerity of your answer had certainly beguiled Cregan, whose hardened visage seemed to soften. Admiration glittered within glacial hues as he attempted to clean his plate.

Before he could properly pose another inquiry into your morality and history, he noticed the flock of men and women beginning to swarm the terrace’s base. The bedding ceremony — he’d nearly forgotten about it, lost within the pleasantries he exchanged with you.

The thought of some drunken bannerman laying his hands upon you seemed to incite a flicker of fury within his chest; he feared breaking a nose at his own wedding. Even through the growing commotion, Cregan had made a rather hasty and disrespectful move.

“Come.” Low and brazen, his large hand gingerly closed around your elbow. To your startlement, your gaze flickered in the direction of the merry masses, continuing to clash their steins together, the rancor merely increasing.

Perplexed, you slyly crept from your chair, following Cregan into a rather slim corridor that stretched behind your seat. A glacial chill permeated ancient stone, and your brow remained furrowed with confusion.

“Won’t this upset your subjects?” Despite the innocuous nature of your inquiry, you were eternally grateful to avoid a bedding ceremony altogether. It felt wicked and crass, too irreverent as a precursor to consummation.

“Perhaps, but I wish to spare you such humiliation,” He sighed, guiding you onward until the two of you stood within an empty stairwell, torchlight encapsulating the walls. “That is worth their momentary disappointment.”

This was one tradition that he could live without, much to the chagrin of his advisors and the numerous wedding patrons. Admittedly, it was the thought of putting up some performance whilst strangers gathered outside of his door, all to see if he’d put a babe in you.

The more he thought of consummation, the more wracked with nerves he became, a festering anxiety gnawing away at his hardened bones. His chest heaved with a heavier exhale — at least this way, he would be afforded some privacy, away from any potential embarrassment.

Here, sequestered within the hush of the corridor, Cregan fully admired you, bathed in the glow of flickering firelight, wedding dress spiraling against the ground. Even still, you held his arm, delicate fingers folded atop his leather vambrace, absorbing his heat in the face of winter’s breath.

“I do not wish to make a foul impression upon your people with this,” Concerned that it would tarnish your image, Cregan dismissed your worries with a mere grunt. “Even if I truly do appreciate your kindness and understanding in the matter.”

“If this tarnishes your reputation, I will deal with it myself,” Stoic assurances were uttered from his lips, Northern timbre deliciously husky, like the tremble of thunder. “Come, before we are apprehended.” A twinge of humor sank into his stalwart tone.

Ascending spiraling steps that led to his lordly chambers, some nervousness had been alleviated by his grand gesture. Having beared witness to your own kin’s bedding ceremony, you did not wish such shame and discomfort upon anyone else.

Silence had blanketed the both of you, two anxious youth, navigating your newfound marriage. Butterflies danced within the pit of your stomach, as if reminding you of what was to come. Fortunately, it wouldn’t be in the company of others — only his, and that was intimidating enough.

As you approached a wide, mahogany door, wrought with careworn iron, Cregan gave it a brusque shove, the hinges groaning in protest. A wave of warmth greeted you, hearth simmering with a cluster of waning embers, nearly reduced to mere wisps of smoke.

His chambers were rather sizeable, a footlocker at the foot of his bed, draped in the impressive hide of a bear. Pelts adorned the feathered mattress in patchwork patterns of taupe, fawn-brown, and black. Before the hearth, a direwolf hide served as a rug above the cold stone.

Its appeal was rustic, rugged — it certainly followed the Northern motif. Even then, you found it pleasing and cozy, warm enough to shield you from the bitter brunt of a glacial tempest. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind you both, moving to rekindle the flames.

Stirring the dried twigs atop hunks of log, your Lord-husband quietly resigned himself to his menial task, brows furrowing together in concentration. It gave you a moment to steel yourself, awkwardly shifting to admire the humble fixtures of his bedchambers.

Part of you pondered what your own quarters might look like — lined in furs, bearing no trace of your own home. It was commonplace for noble marriages to remain in separate chambers, even if the thought happened to irk you.

As the hearth began to roar to life once more, bringing with it a wave of warmth, you shivered even still, likely out of anxiousness. Nerves seemed to bundle within your belly, a tight coil that had been pulled as tight as a bowstring, threatening to snap at any moment.

Admittedly, Cregan had needed a distraction — the reality of what was to come had dawned on him, and he feared making a fool of himself. Standing upright once more, he happened to catch a glimpse of your doe-eyed countenance, just as disquieted; outwardly so.

“Should — Shall I remove this?”

In accompaniment to your sudden inquiry, your digits had clumsily found the clasps of your bridegroom’s cloak, along the collar of your wedding gown. Numerous tales of consummation often held a similar pattern — remove your clothing, let him climb atop you, and put a babe in you.

Cregan’s jaw tightened, storm-laden hues swirling with a palpable trepidation. For a man so stalwart and intimidating, his own vulnerability was laid bare for you to witness, gaze averting your own as he collected his thoughts.

It had become painfully obvious that neither of you were well-equipped to deal with the pang of awkwardness that had settled in. His hand clenched into a fist, attempting to relieve a sliver of bodily tension as he cleared his throat.

His stoic silence had only furthered your unease, as if you’d behaved in a manner most untoward. A lump formed within your throat, with Cregan seemingly gathering his composure as he stepped closer, gait measured and purposeful.

Sword-hewn palms gently grasped your upper arms, brushing over the delicate silks of your gown. A brief shudder passed through you, heat warming your features as his proximity from you had all but dissipated. His stature had become glaringly apparent, looming well above you.

Thumbs gently traced circles into your clothed flesh, the gesture disarmingly tender as he cleared his throat with a low hum. “I do not wish for any of this to be uncomfortable, and yet,” Cregan hesitated, a flicker of worry passing through him. “This is all unfamiliar.” He confessed.

Sharing in his sentiments, you began to relax beneath his comforting embrace, hands twisting themselves together. “I … It is just as unfamiliar for me as it is for you. I do not know where to begin.” You murmured, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

The first song of fervor sang within his blood, running hot with a spark of carnality. Despite his lack of knowing, it was instinct that drove him now as he attempted to discern where to begin with you. Gray hues fluttered toward your lips, visage warming with a flush of scarlet.

“I suppose the only way forward is to learn together.” Cregan proposed, his brows knitting together as he allowed himself to absorb your appearance. A slight lump began to coagulate within his throat, prompting him to hastily swallow it down for the sake of his nerves.

With a brief nod, you let yourself abandon this fear that had gripped you so tightly, knowing that he was a stranger to the act, just as you were. A tenuous silence filled in the crevices, invading the slight space between you both.

This was your duty — it was best to honor it.

Strong, calloused hands sluggishly slid down the length of your arms until he found your hands, delicate and velvety within his hold. His thumb traced over your knuckles, reveling in the sensation of your flesh against his, as downy as feathers, as soft as a wolf’s pelt.

Bending to reach you, Cregan stooped, looming closer, mead-tinged breath fanning across your visage. The rough pillars of his lips hovered above yours, gaze one of admiration as he allowed himself to absorb your beauty, akin to a kiss of summertime.

Wisps of chestnut framed his hardened countenance, which seemed to soften in your presence, losing its stony exterior. A brief hitch formed within your throat, accompanied by a slight noise of exhilaration as his mouth ghosted over yours in a fleeting kiss.

It was agonizingly slow, intended to be exploratory, test the waters. He did not think it as strange as he thought it’d be, the action initially stiff and rigid, attempting to grow accustomed to you.

A volatile churning of heat swirled within your belly, nerves set ablaze by mere friction of mouths. It was exhilarating yet frightening, knowing that this was merely the beginning of it all. Nevertheless, you let yourself relax as much as you could, a sharp inhale puncturing your lungs as he let the kiss linger.

Withdrawing after a few moments, you stared at Cregan, counting yourself deeply fortunate that he wasn’t uncouth nor cruel. He did not seem after his own self-gratification, hands untangling themselves from yours as he cleared his throat.

“Not so terrifying.” Nothing more than a mere lull, your voice was saccharine, endlessly tender as you spoke with a touch of assurance. The stiffness between you both seemed to gradually melt away, and you hoped it would diminish entirely.

A threadbare smile crossed Cregan’s countenance, a fleeting gesture that made your bones sing. One palm moved to cup your cheek, his stare incendiary as he studied you, committing every detail to memory. You were nothing short of mesmerizing, a beauty only sung about in ancient hymns.

“May I?” He gestured to your cloak, the swaddling fabric proving more of a hindrance. As you nodded, the young Lord calmly stepped around you, coming to stand behind you, now eclipsed within the might of his silhouette. Rough digits found their way to the clasps, unfastening the garment altogether.

Cregan draped your cloak over the foot of the bed, gaze exposed to a rather intricate line of ties that held your wedding gown together. He dared not touch them yet, chest nearly brushing against your spine as he bent to press a kiss against your shoulder.

It was so simple, so innocuous — and yet the gesture made you ache with desire’s heavy sting, unfurling within your heart. A soft gasp tore past your parted lips, craving his embrace as you would a gust of crisp air or the glittering rays of a warm sunshine.

The hollow between your throat and shoulder had tempted him, bare flesh ripe for the grace of his mouth. Wordlessly, he continued upon his own whims, planting a string of reverent kisses there, prickling when he heard the sweetness of your moan.

The noise did not seem anguished, and instead, one someone would make when satisfied. “You are beautiful.” Cregan’s Northern baritone had rattled your bones, set you aflame, all of you — the tension had climbed to a searing broil. Absentmindedly, you began to lean backwards into his embrace.

Desire seemed so foreign to you, a concept that transcended comprehension. Yet, as your new Lord-husband began to dote upon you, you felt it twist within your heart, unfurling from within.

He did not know where to put his hands, what to do with them — instead, they remained firmly by his sides, stationary until he asked for your consent. With a final kiss, he lifted his head, chest blossoming with tendrils of warmth as he looked to the laces of your gown.

Gooseflesh raked over your spine, prickling with a sharp jab of exhilaration as it warmed your insides. Similar to Cregan, your hands remained twisted together, anxiously plucking at the front of your wedding gown, nails picking at a swath of velvet.

“Does my Lady give me permission to remove her gown?”

Cregan swallowed his nerves, attempting to suppress any unease, letting it simmer down within his stomach. He had not seen a woman bare before — he’d imagined it on occasion, through heated dreams of a spirited youth, but you were flesh and blood made reality.

A twinge of hesitation clung to his Northern timbre, hands momentarily clenching together as he patiently awaited your consent. The silence lasted longer than he expected, and he wondered if he had brought about some discomfort.

Truthfully, it was your insecurities that began to fester like some creeping plague, a clutch of poison ivy coming to cling to your heart. “What if you do not find me favorable?” As your inquiry floated into the open air, you knew you had made a grave error in vocalizing it.

Through furrowed brows, Cregan’s nervousness had melded into bewilderment, and he seemed to freeze behind you. “Why would you think that?” His question, though sharp, lacked any lilt of malice or callousness. Instead, he was perplexed why he would find you anything other than beautiful.

“I … I do not know,” Twisting your fingers together, your confession seemed to weigh upon your shoulders, more than you revealed. “I often worried that my appearance might become a detriment, or worse, something boorish.”

Cregan’s chest stirred with a low rumble, contemplative of your words. He thought little of his own physicality, a youthful man built of stony muscle and fortitude, a hardened warrior. However, he imagined how it might be different for you.

He would be the envy of all men with you by his side; men that he hoped to ward away from you. Im truth, if it weren’t for his desire to seem stoic in the face of disquiet, he would’ve fallen to his knees at the sight of you beneath the Weirwood Tree.

“Boorish,” Cregan repeated, voice a sonorous hum as he stepped around you, facing you once more. His hands found yours, satin flesh and delicate, your grasp oozing with tenderness. “When I saw you beneath the Weirwood, my heart fell still for the very first time.” He murmured.

A hitch formed within your throat, coupled with a startled gasp of surprise, his words moving you in a way you didn’t think possible. “My Lord …” As your heart began to gallop like hoofbeats beneath your breast, he stepped closer, chest brushing against yours.

“Cregan,” His gentle correction had warmed your features, voice scratching the deeper parts of your very being. One hand relocated, roughened palm shifting to gingerly cup your jaw, thumb stroking over the silky skin there. “You are beautiful — you needn’t worry.” He reassured you.

Mesmerized by him, you rocked up upon your toes, mouth seeking his own as your lips collided in a seamless fervor. The kiss was far more passionate than the first, though still echoed with inexperience, ministrations somewhat erratic.

Flustered and charmed, your hands decided to abandon their position, finding the wide expanse of his leather-clad chest. Beneath your palms, it was all staunch muscle, hardened like that of indomitable stone, shielded by the rough veil of his tunic and cloak.

Returning your kiss, Cregan exhaled, the noise steady and resolute, hand shifting to perch atop the small of your back. Silken laces teasingly danced over his fingertips, as if attempting to rouse him to action — still, he did not bend to baser instincts.

Failing to part, the kiss continued, mouths beginning to find something of a rhythm, however unsteady it might’ve been. A surge of heat washed over you, the first wave of desire — at least, that’s what you assumed it was.

Cregan held you close, cradling you to his chest, grasp inherently protective and laced with gentleness. It was only when you drew away that he allowed it to slack, his features blanketed with a faint flush of scarlet, wintry-gray hues fluttering over your countenance.

“You may remove it.” The softness of your murmur was unmistakable, a sweet lull that had sunk its talons into the far recesses of his mind. Slowly, you turned, allowing him unobstructed access to the plane of tethered silk that clung to you.

With a brief exhale, Cregan steeled himself, ogling the back of your head — your tresses were braided and styled so intricately, the scent of a regal perfume wafting from you. Calloused digits found the column of laces along your spine, giving the very first a tug, making his way upwards.

The moment itself stewed with a searing tension, his body nearly snug against yours, the fabric beginning to loosen upon your body. Crimson and silvery silks gave way to the simple shift beneath, as pure as a newborn snowfall, its material tantalizingly sheer.

A stirring formed within his chest, exposed to your near-naked frame as you calmly stepped from your wedding gown. With respect to your garment, Cregan gathered it within his arms, placing it aside atop the footlocker.

As you turned to face him once more, instilled with a flicker of newfound confidence, you swore you heard his breath become heavy. The pliant peaks of your breasts prodded beneath the fabric, tresses spilling across your collarbone.

Nearly translucent, your shift left little to the imagination, material clinging to your form, as if tempting Cregan with what lay beneath. In a wordless rapture, he admired you — your beauty, the sparkling gleam within your eyes.

It was then that your attention had shifted to evening the score, gaze flickering toward the mantle of furs that still sat upon his shoulders, the studded leather jerkin. “I wish to see you, too.” Your confession was devastatingly tender, enough to make Cregan become a touch smitten.

“As you wish.” Cregan rumbled, lacking any qualms in regards to his own physicality. He was impressive for a man his age — nine-and-ten, and bigger than most. He watched as you quietly reached for the clasps of his cloak, easing it from him to join your wedding gown.

The assistance you provided in removing his own garb had made his heart fester with want, the proximity between bodies now incredibly thin. As your slender fingers went about unfastening the buckles of his vambraces, he gazed at you, as if you were the sun itself.

There was nothing boorish about you — the very air you exhaled was tinged with sweetness, air that he coveted. If Cregan did not know any better, he would believe you to be the goddess of beauty, made flesh incarnate before his very eyes. You drew him in so completely, making him burn.

As his vambraces joined the growing heap of clothing, both your attention and his had turned to his tabard and coarse tunic beneath. Leather slipped into your palms and his, fiddling with straps and buckles as he maneuvered it over his head.

His musculature was rather impressive, almost intimidating — Cregan took great care of himself, training daily and without rest. The dark, slate-hues tunic that clung to him came off next, as he pulled it over his chestnut mane until it fluttered atop the pile of garments.

Molten heat swirled within your belly as you marveled at the sight of him, statuesque and handsome, built to withstand even the hardiest of winters. You were nervous to touch him, just as he was with you — the hesitation was palpable, lingering between bodies.

The both of you stood with trembling hands and tremulous eyes, mere wisps apart, attempting to navigate through the first inklings of desire. To his surprise, it was you who had made the first move, hand slowly crossing the distance until it fell atop his chest.

A shudder gripped him, slithering along his spine, your embrace so very warm, a lick of fire piercing through his glacial gale of ice. “Is this alright?” You inquired, noting his nod of approval as he openly invited you to continue, pressing closer.

“May I?” Cregan returned the favor as his palms snaked toward the swell of your hips, and once you vocalized your consent, he let them sink into your pliant flesh. Despite the obstruction of fabric, he kneaded you even still, hands smoothing over your sides.

With a dip of his head, his lips danced over yours, a ghost of hot breath fanning over your features. He quietly awaited your consent, allowing you to bridge the gap, lips molding themselves to one another. The kiss made him dizzy, feeling your hands glide to perch atop his collarbone.

The hot, youthful surge of carnality came crashing down upon him like that of a tidal wave shattering upon the rocks. Cregan fought against his own instincts, what he’d been told to do, maintaining all sense of gallantry for your comfort.

This softness that he shared with you — it felt special, sacred; it was something that he envisioned himself growing accustomed to, with time. He felt you shiver within his grasp as his palm gently caressed along your spine, feeling your curves through your thin shift.

Each kiss seemed to sink into a gradual sense of comfort, shedding the initial awkwardness that had lingered at the start. Gods, you enjoyed his mouth quite a bit — more than what was deemed appropriate.

“You are wonderfully handsome,” As you murmured your praises against his lips, Cregan let the warmth of your words wrap around him. He became entangled in you, his mouth suddenly veering off-course, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Oh.”

A bewildered gasp tore past your mouth as he began to litter your throat in kisses, grunting when he felt your hand reach for the nape of his neck. This newfound sensation, however foreign, felt incredible to you — you wanted more.

Caging you in against his musculature, you felt the heat that wafted from him, as hot-blooded as the roar of the hearth. Arousal began to coalesce between your thighs, a pooling nectar that made you shift together.

His name emerged as a wanton whine from beneath your breath, enough to send a surge of desire throughout his bones, as sharp as a blade’s edge. Cregan’s jaw tensed, feeling his cock begin to twitch within his leather trousers.

Steady hands worshiped your body with reverent touches, fisting at the fabric that clung to you with a twinge of desperation. The young wolf continued to kiss his way across your neck until he found your collar, visage pressed into the soft canvas of your flesh.

“C—Cregan,” An unchaste moan floated from betwixt your lips, a song of mounting pleasure as he showered your skin in kisses. Gripping the chestnut tresses at his nape, your other palm slid around his torso, splayed atop his spine. “By the Seven.” You exhaled desire; exhilarated.

Biting back a threadbare smirk, his ministrations were ceaseless, wanting you to know just how flawless he found you, how beguiling. Muscles flexed around you, as if shielding you from the rest of the world, keeping you close to him.

Whatever chill had gripped his heart had all been melted away — fear of duty, fear of marriage, fear of sacrifice; it had all dissipated in your wake, leaving naught but ash.

Perhaps it was simply too early to feel such things, the imperviousness of youth, but for now, he cared very little for it. If Cregan was certain of one thing, it was that he wanted you, wanted your heart, to be your shield, a steady hand.

As he pressed a lingering kiss just above your sternum, a shiver passed through you, the shuffling of fabric becoming audible. He hadn’t fully realized that your hands had recoiled, now gathering against your ruffled shift. A flicker of surprise settled into his features, intermingled with a peculiar thrill.

Silence settled between, taut with want, the budding ecstasy of a new and promiscuous experience. Swallowing the slight lump that had coagulated within his throat, Cregan observed in hushed gaiety as you shakily fumbled to remove your shift.

Translucent material soared effortlessly over your flesh, pooling in a silvery heap at your feet. Tendrils of heat licked over your flesh, emanating from the hearth as your body revealed itself to your Lord-husband.

He seemed more a doe now than a wolf, visibly mesmerized by the sight of you, painfully beautiful, and he felt rather unworthy of it all. His heart galloped beneath his chest, storm-laden hues ogling every inch of you.

Standing rigidly still, more akin to a statue, you felt your words turn to ash upon your tongue, melting beneath Cregan’s incendiary stare. It was easy to discern the vermillion flush that had gripped his features, which happened to make you so very warm, hands awkwardly dangling at your sides.

“It feels untoward to touch you like this,” Cregan confessed, hardened countenance beginning to soften. “As if I might tarnish your perfection.”

The fondness laced throughout his cadence only stoked the volatile flame within your belly, thighs absentmindedly shifting together. A smitten smile permeated your features, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession as you shyly reached for his hand.

“There is nothing to tarnish,” Gently, you set his large hand atop your hip, able to hear the sharp inhale of glee from the young wolf. “I — I want you, Cregan. I want you to touch me.” Tapering off into a hoarse utterance, you looked to him with pleading eyes; it was so easy for him to submit.

Steeling himself, Cregan allowed his confidence to flourish, then and there. You wanted him, craved his embrace — there was nothing to fear, no reason to believe that he’d disappoint you. Bending to kiss you, he let his digits flex over your flesh, as downy as a bed of feathers.

No satin or silk compared to that of you, perfection incarnate, living and breathing within his grasp. Permitting the kiss to linger, deepen, he only withdrew to ask a very important question. “Where, wife?” Such an innocent word threaded with a blistering desire — your knees shook.

A hitch formed within your throat, and Cregan was desperate to please you, even if it did not outwardly display itself. Excitable, you reached for his other hand, fingers barely able to encircle his wrist, guiding it towards the oozing heat between your legs.

Through furrowed brows and bated breath, he exhaled when his calloused digits met the damp heat of your nethers, jaw beginning to pull taut. The sensation was a foreign one, and he coaxed you closer, muscled arm keeping you aloft as his thigh gently pushed your legs apart.

He watched you closely, to see what you enjoyed and what you disliked, digits beginning to push past your petals. Met with the rushing warmth of your arousal, Cregan touched you with exploratory caresses, fingers gently gliding over your cunt.

Eliciting a moan from your mouth, he let his lips dip to your throat once more, sluggishly allowing his digits to slide along your slit. You gripped his biceps, anchoring yourself there as he warmed you in ways you didn’t think possible, head clouded by the haze of desire.

His lips returned to the bend of your shoulder, the velvety hollow between that and your throat. A string of kisses manifested there, digits continuing to caress over your slit. This rhythm was agonizing, your body screaming with ecstasy.

As his digits brushed over the pearl of your cunt, you immediately tensed, gripping him like a vice as you released a shaky sigh. “There.” You encouraged, feeling his mouth begin to still, focused upon his new charge.

Quietly, Cregan looked to you, hues a glacial storm, glittering with affection as he circled back to your clit, fingers brushing over the bundle of nerves once more. The way your hips had jolted forward, nails digging crescents into his biceps — he reveled in your reaction.

Acting upon instinct, your hand had dropped, traveling to the laces of his trousers, earning you an exhilarated look. He did not protest in the slightest, hand stilling enough as you began to sheepishly tug at the leather ties, a shiver icing your spine.

“To bed.” He uttered, preferring if you were comfortable and situated for all of this, and you nodded in agreement. Even as you shyly crept toward his bed, you didn’t want to stop your previous ministrations.

Slipping onto the impressive expanse of furs, you sank into pelts of bears and wolves alike, gaze expectantly finding his own as he paused, finishing with his breeches. Sluggishly, he stepped from his clothing, which had all felt rather cumbersome, restrictive.

The sudden flurry of nervousness flooded your countenance when you saw all of him; butterflies erupted within your belly, gooseflesh crawling over your frame. There was nothing small about him, from his indomitable stature and bulk of muscle to his cock, now fully erect.

Choking at the sight, you began to wonder how it would all fit, how it worked — though, you trusted in him, trusted that he would be gentle. It was to be expected — a man of his impenetrable stature likely had the assets to accompany it.

As Cregan joined you, the frame of the bed rustling in protest to the newfound weight, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat. His bulky physique had swallowed you whole as he moved to lay over you, blanketing you in his warmth.

It was his turn to become shy, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he deliberated on what to do next, palms firmly planting themselves on either side of your head. His cock twitched at the sight of you, beautiful beyond compare, resting beneath him with a sense of uncertainty.

Able to hold himself aloft well enough with one forearm, the other returned to previous ministrations, fingers finding the warm slick between your legs. He inhaled at the sensation, brows creased in concentration.

As your visage blossomed with an obvious delight, you wanted to even the score, reaching for his cock as it prodded against your belly. He grit his teeth together when you first touched him, initially shy as could be, nearly hiding behind your lashes.

The softness of your delicate digits wrapping around the girth of his cock made him swear beneath his breath, forehead resting against yours. In a pleasurable tandem, you exchanged caresses, his fingers languidly circling around your clit, burly physique spreading your legs apart.

Gazes met, a fire ignited — he was quiet, but the rapture within his eyes was unmistakable. Lips clamored for one another, a hushed moan floating from your mouth, hand continuing to stroke in rhythmic motions along his length.

The weight of disappointing you had withered away entirely, leaving only a sense of newfound devotion, desiring to please you in the way that you deserved. Cregan’s chest reverberated with a low grunt as the pad of your thumb circled over the swollen head of his cock, eliciting a sonorous groan from him.

He feared that if he carried on, he might not have been able to hold himself together. As his mouth claimed yours once more, the kiss disarmingly tender, infused with passion, he felt your body arch into the friction of his hand.

Waning embers pooled over your flesh, turning it to some incandescent shade, captivating him completely. The heat from the hearth mattered little to you, replaced by the comforting warmth of your new husband, whose body bent to you just as yours did him.

“I will be gentle, I swear this to you.” Cregan swore, tone resolute and laced with want, baritone rattling your insides with a flush of bliss. His cock pulsed within your palm, and he nearly bit at your lip, resisting the wolfish urge to do so.

Between sweeter kisses, he let his fingers toy with the pearl of your cunt a moment longer, wanting to bring you such bliss before the act itself. Nervousness continued to swirl within him, a fear of hurting you still lingering as he planted a kiss to your brow.

“I need you,” You hadn’t expected the words to float so effortlessly from your lips, and yet, it felt right to say it. Cregan’s countenance bristled with yearning, carnal fantasies taking root as he imagined filling you with a babe. “Cregan, please.”

Smitten and endlessly flustered, you nearly shrank beneath the intensity of his gray-hued stare, throat bobbing as he swallowed. His roughened palm stroked along your thigh, and he knew where to insert himself, but what came after?

It was easy to envision you swollen with his child, his new Lady of Winterfell, carrying his heirs, a maiden worthy of his worship. Cregan settled between your legs, adjusting his position, the head of his cock brushing against your slick petals.

A sharp gasp punctured your lungs, hands holding onto his biceps. Both his virtue and yours dangled by a mere thread, tantalizing as he angled himself to the best of his ability, reeling at the sensation of your legs squeezing at his hips.

“Are you certain?” Despite the breathy cadence of his inquiry, he wanted you to be well-prepared before he continued. Fingers twisted into the thick furs beside your head, forehead ghosting above yours, wisps of chestnut framing his countenance.

With a nod, you prepared yourself for what would likely be discomfort, hopeful that it would devolve into bliss after some time. “Yes.” You sighed, gaze innocuous, completely and utterly charmed by his gallantry as he eased his hips forward.

Cregan carefully watched your face, searching for signs of discomfort as his cock began to push into your tight cunt, which clenched around him already. A low cry of pain tore past your lips, attempting to suppress it for his sake — he was so very well-endowed.

“We do not have to continue.” His response was instantaneous and apologetic, brows furrowed together as his hips stilled, and you shook your head. Cregan deliberated, wrestling with himself as you encouraged him through wanton moans, knees squeezing at his waist.

“N—No,” Whilst your protest seemed weak, you meant it entirely. The stretch was certainly discomforting, but it wasn’t agonizing — you hoped to grow accustomed to it. “I wish to continue — please, Cregan.” Your pleas to keep going were reluctantly answered.

Admittedly, he felt overwhelmed by you — the tightness, the sensation of your cunt around his cock, the feeling of your body nestled against his own. He exhaled, hot breath fanning over your countenance, his expression just as doelike as your own.

Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.

A trembling breath escaped him, muscles flexing around you, caging you in against him. His stalwart nature had crumbled completely, lips gently pressing against your jaw in an attempt to soothe you, hips slotting forward until he had sheathed himself within you.

He did not move, allowing you time to adjust, content to lay there and pepper your flesh in plentiful kisses. One hand clamored to the nape of his neck, fisting at his chestnut tresses as you eased out a shaky exhale.

“Are you alright, wife?” Gods, the title — it made your belly churn with liquid heat, coalescing as arousal, heavy between your thighs. If it weren’t for Cregan’s reassurance and caution, this might’ve been rather distasteful.

Fortunately, he was perfect in all ways imaginable, crooked bridge of his nose inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. You made sure to nod, his stillness becoming more of a hindrance than assistance. “Mm,” You moaned. “I am.”

The more time he gave you to grow accustomed to his girth, the more relaxed you became, no longer coiled like some furled lioness. As you let yourself become light, floating, the sensation gradually became pleasurable for you.

Cregan’s lips twitched into a threadbare smile; you took him so well, enough that it made his heart swell with ardor. Coaxing him in for a kiss, your lips met with a startling fervor, and he began to move, hips sluggishly rolling forward, ensuring that he was exceedingly gentle.

His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he held it within one palm.

Gods help him — he began to understand why so many men had talked of this carnal bliss, and it only made him ache for you all the more. Sharp grunts accentuated each of his thrusts, ensuring that his pace was careful, letting the pleasure build.

Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each roll of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with newfound feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.

It was you that had reached for his hand, fingers interlocking above your head, pressed into the downy pillows there. It filled you with molten heat, slick cunt aiding in his ministrations, hips urging into yours with a simmering friction.

His name fell from your lips like some sacred prayer, whispered into the heat between bodies, distance nonexistent. The pliant peaks of your breasts had brushed against his muscled chest, your other hand gripping his bicep like a vice.

It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.

He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. It made you feel protected, comfortable — as if you had nothing to fear.

Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat of your chambers. Clinging to him like a drowning woman, you savored the slow, sharp snaps of his hips, urging into you.

Cregan’s cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of passionate kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend — it was ecstasy, it was pure bliss.

The pinnacle of your pleasure was dancing upon the precipice, feeling his thrusts become a touch invigorated. Even still, he never once devolved to roughness, never strayed from his sluggish pace, made to feel all of you.

Wanton moans and low, thunderous groans echoed between you, inhabiting the warmth that crackled there, foreheads nestled together. Perspiration licked across your frame, permeating against your spine as your legs squeezed him like a vice.

As you called his name, Cregan grunted, the sound sudden and intense, attempting to restrain himself for just a moment long — and he was exceedingly unlucky. His hips urged forward once more, cock pulsing with an incessant ache as he spilled himself inside of you.

There was certainly intent behind it, filling your womb with his seed, desiring to see you round, lovely and full. Even if it did not take, he suspected that the opportunities would present themselves in the future. A shudder passed through his spine, feeling your cunt clench around him.

It was your release that followed suit, a white-hot tidal wave of ecstasy that made you see stars, moaning against his mouth as he cradled you close. Your interlocked fingers had tightened, bodies still craving one another, insurmountable heat making you delirious.

Seed oozed from your cunt, a sticky smattering that painted both your womb and inner thighs, your own nectar intermingled. Cregan heaved an exhale, letting his brow press snug to yours, mouth connecting in a tender kiss.

As his gaze found yours, you felt your features simmer with warmth, breath beginning to still as you regained your composure. The moment had stretched for an eternity, content to bask within his presence, lips curling into a demure smile.

The young wolf was wholly enamored, furrowed brows beginning to slack as he turned, bringing you with him. As he laid down, he let you rest atop him, bodies molding together as if they were two puzzle pieces, intended to fit.

Cregan himself seemed caught in the afterglow, dazzled by you, by all of this — unexpectedly so. A thick, muscled arm wrapped around you, palm splayed across the small of your back as he felt you shift, head nestled atop his chest.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He uttered, his worry thinly-veiled as he cradled you close, concerned that he’d caused you harm. “I apologize if I did — I did not realize …” Cregan trailed off, features painted with a scarlet pallor.

Admittedly, you would be sore — with your maidenhead surrendered, the ache between your legs was both pleasant and painful. “You did not,” You assured, letting out an awkward clearing of your throat. “Do you wish for me to go to my own chambers, now?”

Bewildered, Cregan’s head perked up just enough, head canting to one side. “Why would I have you leave?” He questioned, noticing the way you became embarrassed, as if you had said something completely foul.

“My own mother never shared chambers with my father,” You prompted, flustered as Cregan shook his head, bringing you closer, as if that were even a possibility. Already flush together, flesh to flesh, heart to heart, there was not a sliver of space to be found. “I only thought …”

“I understand,” His Northern timbre was soothing, reassuring as he caressed along your spine, pressing a chaste kiss to your crown. “I would prefer it if you stayed here — though, should you tire of me, I will accommodate you.” Cregan rumbled, nearly smirking at your fit of giggles.

“I do not think I will tire of you — not anytime soon, as it stands.” You mused, and that seemed to amuse your Lord-husband, who let out a brief huff as he soon swaddled you both within the furs.

No longer did you fear the Northern chill.

#house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction #cregan stark #cregan x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #cregan stark smut

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neeeooon · 2 days ago

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Hello!! May I request, where the reader traces the bllk chars' (Sae, Kaiser, Nagi, Reo, Rin) veiny hands without even noticing it, and they will have this reaction, either curious, shocked, or something? They either be in a relationship or just friends.

Thank you!! I hope you understand my grammar, English is not my first language. This is my first request, I really love your stories!!

thank you for the request!! and your grammar is great! 🩵

when you trace their hand veins

new relationship/friend bllk x clueless!reader. slightly suggestive in sae’s, reo’s, rin’s

itoshi sae

-> your relationship with sae was strictly platonic. yet you despised the thought of going on a date or spending time with someone who wasn’t him, and you had an inkling that he felt the same way about you

-> you’re cooking dinner together and chatting about your days. per routine, you’re in your normal spots: you at the stove, sae leaning against the counters to your left as he preps the food

-> he finished earlier than you, hands resting on the edge of the countertop. while waiting for the water to finish boiling, your hand mindlessly drifts over his arm, tracing the bulging veins from the way he’s leaning

-> your best friend is anything but subtle. “keep touching me like that, i’ll think you wanna be more than just my friend, y/n.” his words startle you at first, but when you look up and catch the way his eyes are deeply trained on you, you can’t help but step closer. “and be what instead, hm?”

michael kaiser

-> kaiser is always telling you how he hates the feel of hands on his skin, and you’ve seen how he flinches away from touch. however, he never complains or moves away when you curl into his side during movie nights

-> you only just started going out, so you’re surprised that he has so much patience and seems so comfortable with you. he told you in the past that you have a calm and inviting energy about you, but you don’t really know why

-> you’re watching an indie film, cuddled into his side without touching his skin too much, when your fingertips graze against his forearm. you don’t think anything of it, too immersed in the film, but kaiser feels your touch everywhere. and he doesn’t pull away

-> when kaiser flips your hand to clasp it and tightly intertwine your fingers, you finally realize what you were doing. “i’m sorry! i didn’t—“ “keep holding my hand..?” at the softness in his ask, they’d have to pry your dead body away to separate you from him

nagi seishiro

-> you and nagi were barely friends, but besides reo, you’re the only person who ever makes an effort to talk to him. his responses are usually short, but he always looks at you as you ramble about your day or a book you’re reading or what you ate for lunch

-> your class is traveling together for a field trip, and you decide to sit next to nagi on the bus. anxious about the trip, you find yourself subconsciously tracing the veins on nagi’s hand, which is pressed on the seat beside your thigh

-> he never says anything, so it takes a while for you to realize what you’re doing. once you do, you panic. “oh gosh, i’m sorry, nagi! that was super creepy of me, i swear i wasn’t doing that on purpose!” “‘s’okay. i don’t mind.”

mikage reo

-> you were waiting at his desk with your textbooks to study when reo returned from the gym. “oh, hey y/n! i forgot we were studying today.” “uh, yeah..!” you couldn’t pull your eyes from his arms if you wanted to. “gimme a sec to shower, and i’ll be right back!”

-> reo’s arms are still angry when he returns, making you feel all sorts of ways for your friend. sure, you’d been “talking” for a little while, but he was still only a friend

-> you’re seated close, forearms practically touching, as reo teaches you about business statistics. you’d never been as focused on market equations as you were with purple hair tickling your shoulder and cheek

-> “um, y/n?” “hm?” you pull your thoughts from how pretty reo is to follow his gaze, which is set on his arm. your fingers on his arm. tracing his veins. you nearly fall out of your chair with how fast you yank your hand away. “i’m sorry! how long was i doing that?!” “maybe fifteen min—“ “sorry, got to go! good night, reo!”

itoshi rin

-> you were curled up on the couch beside your childhood and longest best friend rin, dozing off while watching cartoons with him

-> trying to stay awake, you decided to fidget with your hands, which turned into fidgeting with his hand

-> you’re half asleep and unsure what’s happening. rin can’t turn his head in your direction because he’s afraid you’ll see how warm his face is

-> “pretty arms,” you mumble sleepily when you realize what you’re doing. rin only nods in response, praying you fall asleep before you realize the effect your touch has on your friend

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gf2bellamy · 2 days ago

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I have no idea if I hallucinated that requested this or smt, so totally ignore this if i've already asked.

But could you ever do a fic where spencer is at the hospital from that time he got shot at, and reader gets his belongings while he's in surgery and she sees a ring box in between them. (Engagement ring ofc) And she talks with spencer after and tells him that she saw it.

That's kinda the idea, love your work and thanks in advance if you decide to write it. 🥰

ring — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer is in the hospital because of his neck injury , mention of a shooting, reader being worried / panicked , a/n: hii !! i loved this request so much that i ended up writing like 5 different versions of it - i hope you like this !! <33 ( also i definitely got carried away with this )

Blake had practically shoved you out of the hospital waiting room, insisting you go to Spencer’s apartment.

You didn’t want to leave—not when Spencer was still in surgery, not when every second felt like an eternity of uncertainty.

But Blake had been firm but kind. “He’s going to be okay, but he’ll need things when he wakes up.”

You had resisted at first, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Garcia’s call hours earlier had sent your world spinning. “Spencer’s been shot,” she had said, her voice trembling.

You didn’t remember the drive to the hospital—only the blur of streetlights and the pounding of your heart. When you arrived, Blake had met you in the waiting room. She explained that a bullet had grazed Spencer’s neck, that it was serious but not life-threatening.

Still, the word “surgery” had lodged itself in your chest.

It wasn’t until the doctor emerged to tell you the surgery had gone well that you finally agreed to leave. Spencer was stable, but he wasn’t awake yet, and visiting hours were over. Blake had told you, “Go pack a bag for him. He’ll need clothes when he’s discharged.”

Now, standing in the middle of Spencer’s apartment, you felt weird.

The space was so him—neatly organized bookshelves, a chessboard set up on the coffee table, and the faint scent of Earl Grey tea lingering in the air.

It was comforting, but it also made his absence feel more pronounced. You took a deep breath and got to work, pulling out a duffel bag from his closet and starting to pack.

You began with the essentials: a few pairs of pants, sweaters , and socks. You couldn’t help but smile as you grabbed a handful of mismatched ones. But then you remembered his purple scarf, the one he always wore when the weather turned chilly. It was his favorite, and you knew he’d want it when he was discharged.

The problem was, you couldn’t find it.

You opened drawer after drawer, your frustration growing with each one. Spencer was organized, but the scarf was nowhere to be found.

“Where is it?” you muttered under your breath, your hands moving faster as you rifled through his things. You checked the top shelf of the closet, the hooks by the door, even the laundry basket, but it wasn’t there.

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you pushed aside the row of clothes hanging in the closet, your fingers brushing against something soft and familiar.

There it was—tucked away in the very back, as if it had been hidden on purpose.

But as you pulled the scarf free, something else tumbled out, landing softly on the carpet at your feet.

A small, rectangular white box.

Your breath hitched as you stared at it, your mind racing.

You carefully placed the scarf in the duffel bag, your hands trembling slightly as you bent down to pick up the box.

The box was too small, too specific to be anything ordinary. You held it in your palm.Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lifted the lid.

And there it was.

A ring.

A beautiful, delicate ring with a diamond that caught the dim light of the room, scattering tiny rainbows across your hand. It wasn’t just any ring—it was an engagement ring.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of your lungs. You sat down heavily on the edge of Spencer’s bed, your legs suddenly unable to support you.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your eyes were wide, your mouth slightly open as you stared at the ring, unable to look away. The diamond sparkled, almost as if it were alive, and you reached out to touch it lightly, as if to confirm it was real. The metal was cool against your skin, the stone smooth and perfect.

Your mind raced, trying to process what this meant. You couldn’t help but already imagine the moment he might have planned—his nervous smile, his hands fidgeting, his voice soft as he asked the question. The image was so vivid it made your heart ache.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the ring cradled in your hand, your thoughts spiraling. But then, like a jolt, you remembered where you were supposed to be.

The hospital. Spencer.

He was still there, still recovering, and you were sitting here staring at a ring.

Carefully, you placed the ring back in its box and closed the lid. Your hands were still shaking as you tucked the box into the duffel bag, burying it beneath the clothes and the scarf. You stood up, slinging the bag over your shoulder, and took one last look around the apartment.

As you locked the door behind you and headed back to your car, your mind was still spinning.

The drive to the hospital was a daze. The streets blurred together.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking lot. You sat in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady your breathing.

The ring. It was all you could think about.

Finally, you forced yourself to move, grabbing the duffel bag and stepping out into the cool night air. The walk to the entrance felt surreal, like you were moving through a dream. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and you made your way to the waiting room.

You sat down in one of the stiff chairs, the duffel bag resting heavily in your lap. Your thoughts were a swirling mess, replaying every moment, every interaction with Spencer over the past few weeks. Things that had seemed innocent at the time now took on a new meaning.

A couple of weeks ago, he had dragged you into a jewelry store, casually asking what styles you liked. You had laughed it off, thinking he was just curious. Then there were the random dinners at different restaurants, him intently watching your reactions as you tried new dishes. “What kind of food do you like best?” he had asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. Now it all made sense.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice Blake walking in. She sat down across from you. It wasn’t until she spoke that you snapped back to reality.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice gentle.

You blinked, finally noticing her presence. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” you mumbled, forcing an awkward smile.

Your voice sounded distant, even to yourself, and you could tell Blake wasn’t entirely convinced. She studied you for a moment, her gaze flickering to the bag in your lap.

“Did you get everything you needed?” she asked, her tone casual.

You glanced down at the bag, your fingers tightening around the fabric. “Yeah, I got him some sweaters, pants, and just… clothes in general,” you said, your voice trailing off as your gaze drifted to the wall behind her. Your mind was already wandering again, back to Spencer, back to the ring, back to the unanswered questions that were swirling in your head.

And then, almost casually, Blake added, “And scarves?”

That got your attention. Your head snapped up, your eyes locking onto hers. She was smiling slightly, her gaze knowing. “You found it, didn’t you?” she asked. She took in your wide-eyed expression, the way your hands tightened around the duffel bag, and she didn’t need an answer.

She already knew.

“He asked me for advice,” Blake continued, shaking her head as if recalling the memory. A soft laugh escaped her, and you could tell she was amused by the whole thing.

“He did?” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart was pounding, your mind racing to keep up with the conversation.

“Yes,” Blake said, her smile widening. “He wanted to make sure he got it right. Spencer’s not the type to do anything halfway, you know that.”

A smile tugged at your lips—maybe the first genuine one since Garcia’s call had shattered your world hours ago. You let out an emotional chuckle, the sound shaky. “It’s a beautiful ring,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“It is,” Blake agreed, her voice warm. “He spent weeks looking for the perfect one. Even spent hours in one store, agonizing over the details. You should’ve seen him.”

You had to brush a tear from your eye as another chuckle escaped you. “That sounds like him,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

The thought of Spencer meticulously searching for the right ring, second-guessing himself, trying to make sure it was perfect—it was so him. So thoughtful, so Spencer.

It was a lot to process and your mind was still spinning, when suddenly a nurse appeared in the doorway of the waiting room.

“Are you two here for Spencer Reid?” she asked.

You nodded immediately, jumping to your feet so quickly that the duffel bag slipped from your lap and landed on the floor with a soft thud. Blake reached down to pick it up, handing it to you with a small smile. “He’s awake,” the nurse continued. “You can see him now.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of relief and nervousness flooding through you. You turned to Blake, expecting her to follow, but she stayed seated, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Are you not coming?” you asked, your voice tinged with confusion.

Blake shook her head, her smile soft and knowing. “I’ll give you two a moment,” she said gently. Her tone left no room for argument, and you realized she understood. The emotions were about to be high, the moment intimate, and Blake was giving you the space you needed.

You smiled, gratitude washing over you. “Thanks, Blake,” you said, your voice sincere. She nodded, her eyes warm, and with that, you turned and hurried after the nurse, the duffel bag clutched tightly in your hands.

The walk to Spencer’s room felt both endless and far too short.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand questions, but all of them faded into the background when the nurse stopped outside a door and gestured for you to go in. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before walking away, leaving you standing there, your hand hovering over the door handle.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and then pushed the door open. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Spencer was lying in the bed, his eyes closed, his face pale. For a moment, you just stood there, taking him in, relief flooding through you at the sight of him alive and breathing.

And then his eyes fluttered open, as if he could sense your presence. “Hi,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Hi, Spence,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you closed the door behind you and stepped closer to his bed. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion and the bandage on his neck.

You set the duffel bag down on a nearby chair, your hands fidgeting nervously as you tried to find the right words.

But before you could say anything, Spencer’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. “You’re here,” he said, his voice soft.

“Of course I’m here,” you replied, your voice breaking slightly. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you could manage. Spencer watched you with a weak smile, his eyes soft but tired.

You weren’t entirely sure how to approach the situation. Your hands hovered awkwardly at your sides, unsure whether to touch him or keep your distance.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice gentle as you stood right next to his bed, close but not quite touching.

“I’m okay,” Spencer said. He tried to sit up slightly, wincing as he shifted. You instinctively stepped forward, your hands reaching out but still not making contact. “You sure? Do you want me to get you something? Water? A pillow?” you offered, your voice tinged with worry.

“No, no,” Spencer shook his head, managing a small smile as he finally settled against the raised bed. He glanced at you, his eyes searching yours, and then he whispered, “You can touch me.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him. He had noticed—of course he had. Your hesitation and your fear of hurting him if you touched him.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You immediately rushed to sit down on the edge of the bed, where he had slightly patted the space beside him with as much energy as he could muster. Your hands found their way to his face, brushing the hair away from his forehead, your fingers trembling as they traced the lines of his face.

“God, you scared me so much,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding in. Spencer closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as you continued to gently twist his hair between your fingers. Your hands eventually drifted down to his face, brushing over his cheekbones, your touch feather-light.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, his eyes still closed, his breathing steady but shallow. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

When he opened his eyes, you stared at him for a moment, trying to absorb the fact that he was really here, awake, and alive. The relief was overwhelming, but so was the flood of emotions you’d been holding back. You wanted to say so much, but the words felt tangled, caught somewhere between your heart and your throat.

Instead, you forced a small smile and shifted the conversation to something lighter. “I got you some clothes,” you said, gesturing to the duffel bag. “I figured your hospital gown isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“It’s not,” Spencer admitted, his voice still weak but with a hint of amusement. You set the bag on your lap and opened it slightly, pulling out a few items to show him. “I got you some books too,” you added, hoping to distract him—and maybe yourself—from the heaviness of the moment.

Spencer’s interest was immediately piqued, his tired eyes lighting up just a little.

“Which ones did you—” he started to ask, but then he stopped mid-sentence. His gaze had landed on something in the bag, and his expression shifted.

You followed his eyes and realized what he was looking at: the purple scarf. It was peeking out from beneath the stack of clothes.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker.

Spencer’s mouth opened slightly, his eyes darting from the scarf to you and back again. You could see the realization dawning on his face, and your stomach dropped.

“It was an accident,” you finally said nervously, breaking the silence. Your voice was rushed, almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean to find it. I was just grabbing your scarf because, you know, it’s freezing outside, and I thought you’d want it when you’re discharged, and—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were rambling. “I’m sorry,” you added, shaking your head and offering an awkward smile.

Spencer, meanwhile, was full-on blushing, his pale cheeks now flushed with color. It was a stark contrast to how he’d looked just 20 seconds ago.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes darting nervously around the room before finally settling on the wall behind you. He looked completely lost in thought, his mind racing a mile a minute.

“No—it’s… it’s okay,” Spencer finally managed to say, though his voice was quiet and hesitant. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he were trying to gather his thoughts.

“Spence?” you asked softly, your slightly trembling hand reaching up to gently cup his face again. Your touch seemed to pull him back to the present, and his eyes slowly met yours.

“I’ve been planning this for a long time,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Your hand fell from his face, but he caught it before it could retreat, his fingers intertwining with yours. His grip was firm, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away. “I asked Blake for advice,” he admitted, his tone sheepish.

“I know,” you whispered, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She told me.”

Spencer didn’t seem surprised that Blake had shared that with you. Instead, he nodded, his eyes dropping to your joined hands.

“I wanted it to be perfect,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I had a speech prepared, and I—I was going to have this whole routine on how I would ask you.” He tightened his hold on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry you found out like this,” he added, his voice hesitant.

He opened his mouth again, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away, as if he couldn’t bear to hold your gaze.

The room fell silent. You could see the disappointment in his expression, the way he was beating himself up for not being able to execute his plan the way he’d envisioned. But to you, none of that mattered. What mattered was the love behind it, the thought and care he’d put into something so meaningful.

After a beat of silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft.

“My answer is the same either way,” you whispered.

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“You want to…?” he started, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The hope in his eyes said it all.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yes,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes. “Of course I do, Spencer. How could I not?”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and pure joy. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire being. He squeezed your hand tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again.

You smiled, your own eyes slightly glossy as you looked at him. The room felt quieter now, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

“Now you have to heal faster,” you whispered, your voice teasing but tender as you brushed your thumb over his fingers, “so we can get working on our wedding preparations.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the word wedding, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts shy and delighted.

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he were trying to process the reality of what you’d just said. Then he let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and genuine despite the hoarseness in his voice.

“Wedding preparations,” he repeated, his tone a mix of awe and amusement. “I… I hadn’t even gotten that far in my planning yet.” He paused, his smile turning sheepish. “I was so focused on the proposal that I didn’t think much about what would come after.”

You chuckled. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got plenty of ideas,” you said, your tone playful. “But first, you need to rest and get better. No more getting shot, okay? I can’t have my fiancé—” The word felt strange but wonderful on your tongue, and you paused, savoring it for a moment before continuing, “—running around getting himself hurt.”

Spencer’s smile widened at the word fiancé, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fiancé,” he murmured, as if testing out how it sounded. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice soft. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for a moment against his skin. When you pulled back, his eyes were closed, his expression peaceful.

“I’ll heal faster,” he promised, his voice quiet. “I’ve got a wedding to plan now, after all.”

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