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trashytracktales · 27 days ago

Note

AND softdom lando with slightly unexperienced reader!!!! kill me nowwwe it cannot live only in my head

Nothing less | LN⁴

💌 INSPIRED by anon ──── No, cause you know what, anon? Let me do something about it real quick (I changed some things around on purpose, because I either go hard or go home lmao). ENJOY 💋

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𐙚 summary ──── It's their first time together, and Lando takes the lead, ensuring every touch and word is focused on her comfort and pleasure.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x virgin!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 catetegory ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, reader's first time, new relationship dynamics, soft dom!Lando, fluff & smut, descriptive language, swearing, unprotected sex, subtle exploration of emotional and physical trust in an intimate setting.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.8k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 26, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Gentle reminder that I know I have a lot of requests I need to take care of, and they are going to be dealt with, slowly but surely. Thank you for your patience 😁🤍

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SHE THINKS SHE should tell him, but she doesn’t know him well enough to be sure that Lando isn’t easily scared — or worse, that he wouldn’t walk out on her the second her little secret gets out.

They’ve only been dating for two weeks, but somehow it feels longer than that. Obviously, they’ve talked about sex before — casually, the way new couples do when everything still feels exciting and full of possibilities. But she never told him outright that she’s a virgin. He never specifically asked, and she didn’t see a way to bring it up without making things awkward.

In the midst of her chaotic thoughts, two things are certain: 1) she doesn’t want to ruin the moment, and 2) there’s no doubt he likes her. She sees it in the way Lando looks at her, and she feels it in the way his hands touch her: sometimes by accident, other times with intent.

That's why she doesn’t want to burden him with expectations or make him feel like he has to change to meet some unspoken standard. She wants him as he is: unfiltered, imperfect, and real.

It's almost midnight, and the room is drenched in a quiet intimacy, the only sound coming from the muted hum of the city outside. Lando sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing against hers with deliberate slowness. The soft golden glow of the bedside lamp illuminates his face, accentuating the way his lips curve into a smile that’s equal parts teasing and tender.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmurs, his voice a smooth drawl that makes her stomach flip. His thumb strokes over her palm, coaxing her to meet his gaze. “That nervous?”

Her breath catches in her throat, feeling it closing in from the inside, but she nods, not trusting her voice.

“That’s okay, baby,” says Lando gently, leaning in. The warmth of his breath fans against her skin as his lips ghost over her jawline. “I want to take care of you. Can I do that?”

She nods again, her heart thudding against her rib. But the way Lando is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters, eases some of the tension coiling in her chest.

She really thinks that she should tell him—

“Words, love,” he interrupts her thoughts, his tone soft yet firm. Lando's hand tilts her chin up so she’s looking directly at him. “I need to hear you, so I know we're on the same page.”

“Yes, Lando,” she replies back, his name dripping from her mouth like honey. “I want this with you.”

His smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes — desire tempered with a bit of restraint. “Sweet girl,” he says softly, the praise rolling off his tongue like a caress.

She closes her eyes, the words making her cheeks flush, but they also spark something inside her, a yearning she’s never felt so acutely before.

The air between them feels charged with so much expectancy. She knows where this is heading, can feel it in the way his eyes linger on hers, in the heat of his touch that seems to burn through her skin. The thought alone forces a wave of excitement rolling through her. At that, her body reacts before her mind catches up — her breaths quicken, her thighs press together instinctively, and a warm, insistent ache blooms low in her belly. She’s wet already, just from the anticipation, her thoughts spiraling into images of Lando gasping for air above her.

She shakes her head to push those thoughts away, just as he pulls her closer, his hands steady and confident as they frame her face. When he kisses her, his lips are so soft, moving against hers in a way that leaves no room for doubt. He’s in control, but he’s also completely attuned to her.

“If you need me to stop,” he says against her lips, “If anything feels wrong, just tell me, and we'll talk about it. Gonna need your words for this, yeah?” he continues as she nods again, making Lando puff out a small giggle, “What did I say?”

Words. Right.

“I promise I'll tell you,” she says, her voice tinged with nervousness.

He hums in approval, his hands sliding down to her waist. He moves her gently, guiding her to lie back on the bed as he leans over her. His movements are measured, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his hands skim beneath her shirt, she tenses for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut, and Lando immediately freezes.

“Hey,” he says softly, his brow furrowing in concern. “Too much?”

“No,” she says quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just— I’ve nev—”

He doesn’t let her finish. His thumb strokes soothing circles against her hip as he leans down to kiss her again, silencing her nervous stammer.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’ll go slow, alright? You and I. Just trust me.”

His words are like a balm, and she finds herself relaxing under his touch. He takes his time removing her shirt, his eyes never leaving hers as if to reassure her with every move.

“You’re fucking stunning,” he says, his voice low and reverent.

Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for him, and he lets her take the lead for a moment, watching her with a quiet intensity as she unbuttons his shirt. She fumbles slightly, and he chuckles, the sound soft and warm.

“Relax, love. It’s just me,” he says, leaning down to kiss her temple; a small act of tenderness that somehow steadies her racing heart.

The warmth of his lips lingers, grounding her in the moment as her nerves begin to settle. When there's no barrier left between them, Lando's hands explore her body patiently, every touch giving her goosebumps. Then, his fingers travel lower, slipping between her legs, and he freezes in place, his breath hitching.

“Ah, shit,” he mumbles mostly to himself, almost in awe when he realizes how much of a mess she is already. “So eager, you're soaked. I could just slip right in.”

The words send a bolt of heat through her, a mix of embarrassment and excitement, but they also give her enough courage to take action. Summoning all her nerve, she reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his cock with a tentative but determined grip.

She guides him to her entrance, her voice quiet but impatient as she whispers, “Then do it.”

Suddenly, that's more than enough for Lando to let his instincts take over.

He exhales sharply as he pushes forward, the heat of her drawing him in inch by inch. The sensation of her wrapped around his length nearly undoes him — soft, tight, and impossibly warm. His jaw clenches as he stills for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He presses his forehead to hers, his voice strained but tender.

“So damn tight around me, baby,” he gasps softly, his hand coming to rest on her hip. “How's it on your end? Can I move?”

She nods quickly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she adjusts to the sweet stretch. “It’s—”

Good. Perfect. Heaven.

“Didn’t feel as big in my hand,” she ends up saying, making Lando laugh in a high-pitched voice.

“Not sure weather it's a compliment or an insult,” he admits, amused.

“Just give me a sec,” she whispers, though there’s a slight trace of uncertainty in her tone.

His thumb begins to stroke soothing circles on her hip, and he kisses the corner of her mouth. “Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures her.

She lets out a shaky breath, her body gradually relaxing around him. With one hand, she traces the contours of Lando's face, studying every micro expression, every mole, and the way his breath hitches as she welcomes him in.

“You're perfect,” she says softly, her cheeks flushed with warmth. “Can you fuck me now?”

Lando whines, pulling back slightly before easing forward again, setting a slow, careful rhythm. The friction is intense, almost overwhelming, and he groans quietly, his grip on her hips tightening just a fraction.

Her lips part as a soft moan escapes her, and she tilts her head back, instinctively pushing her hips to meet his movements. “Lando,” she breathes, her voice a mix of need and disbelief.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, his tone laced with affection. “Tell me what you like, what feels good. Let me hear you, baby.”

“You,” she manages, her fingers threading through his hair. “It feels so—You feel so good. All of it, please.”

The corners of his mouth raise into a small, breathless smile. “Such a good girl, aren't you?” he praises, leaning down to kiss her neck as he resumes his thrusts. “You’re doing so well for me.”

Her nails dig lightly into his back, her confidence growing with each movement.

“Faster,” she whispers, her voice trembling with a foreign desire.

His brows raise slightly as he slows down, just to tease her. “Faster? You sure about that?” he asks, his voice taking on a playful edge.

“Lando,” she repeats his name, louder this time, her hips rolling against his.

“You want it that bad?” he says in slight disbelief, his movements speeding up just enough to draw a louder moan from her. Lando studies her closely, his gaze softening even as his control threatens to slip. “Look at you, fuck. Let me take care of you. Let me—”

He swallows his words as his starts thrusting into her, firmly but never rough, his touch always calibrated to her responses.

“God, you’re taking me so well,” he says, his lips brushing against her ear. “So hot and tight around me. Feels right, hm?”

Her breathing quickens at his words, her body responding in ways she doesn’t fully understand but craves nonetheless. His hands trail lower, and she arches into him instinctively, another whimper escaping her lips.

“I know, baby,” he says, his voice thick with approval. “Keep me inside.”

Lando’s rhythm falters, then slows to an almost torturous pace. Before she can question it, he drags his cock out of her entirely, leaving her pussy clenching around nothing. A cry slips from her lips, desperate and aching, but he doesn’t give her time to protest. His length glides up between her slick, puffy folds, spreading the wetness everywhere, his movements calculated and teasing.

Not to mention evil.

“Lan...” she whines, her nails digging into his back as frustration and need overwhelm her. She isn’t gentle, her fingers pressing hard enough to sting, and he lets out a low hiss.

At the sudden pain, Lando stops entirely, his eyes snapping to hers, dark and intense. “Careful, baby,” he warns, his tone soft but laced with authority.

Sitting up slightly, he reaches for a pillow, lifting her hips with ease and sliding it beneath her lower back. When he thrusts back into her, it’s maddeningly slow, as if he wants her to feel everything. His hand moves to her stomach, pressing down lightly as he fucks his cock inside her. The sensation sends shockwaves through her body, and she cries out, her voice high and pleading as the pressure amplifies the pleasure.

“Feel that?” he asks, his voice rough with arousal. “Feel how deep I am?”

She can only nod, tightening her legs around him, her body trembling as she grips the sheets for support. But curiosity and the overwhelming sensations push her to rise onto her elbows, needing to see what he’s doing to her. Her gaze drops to where their bodies meet, and that’s when she sees it — the way her lower abdomen rises and falls slightly with each of his deep, measured thrusts.

Her breath catches, her eyes widening in awe. “Oh my God,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Is that…?”

Lando notices her reaction immediately, his own gaze following hers. The corner of his mouth curves into a smirk, but his eyes burn with something primal. “Fucking hell,” he murmurs, tightening his hands around her waist, holding her steady. “Yeah, that’s me inside you.”

The realization sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her, and Lando seems to sense it. His grip on her waist tightens further, and he begins to move harder, his hips snapping against hers with a rhythm that’s still controlled but far more intense.

The room fills with the slik sound of her pussy as Lando thrusts in and out relentlessly, and her moans grow louder, her body arching into him.

“Let me feel you,” he growls, his voice deep. “Let go, baby. Let me feel you,” he repeats, over and over again.

She wraps her arms around Lando, pulling him closer to have something to support her. The way her pussy sucks at his cock, desperate and insistent, sends him careening over the edge before he can even process it.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, his voice breaking as his hips stutter, spilling into her with a throaty moan. He can get drunk on the way she grips him, her heat, her hunger — every part of her pulling him into pure bliss.

His forehead drops to hers, their shared breaths mingling as they pant and moan together, riding out every wave of pleasure as they hit.

Her nails are still buried in his back, the sharp sting blending with the pleasure coursing through him. He winces but doesn’t stop, his body shuddering as her walls flutter around his cock, milking every last bit of him. They’re locked together, shaking, until the pleasure ebbs into a warm, lingering buzz.

After that, Lando finally stills inside her, his body softening, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he rests his weight against her. Only then does the sharp sting on his back pull his attention, and he lets out a low chuckle, his voice rough and spent.

“You really dug in, didn’t you?” he teases, his tone affectionate as he lifts his head to look at her. The corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk despite the ache in his muscles.

Her face flushes with embarrassment, her hands slipping away from his back, burying into his hair instead. “Sorry,” she whispers, avoiding to look at him.

“Don’t be,” he replies, his gaze soft and adoring. “It was worth it.”

Before she can add something else, Lando leans down, his lips finding hers in a kiss that’s the opposite of tender. It’s a stark contrast to the raw intensity they just shared, and a quiet reassurance that he’s still fully present with her. His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing against her flushed skin as he deepens the kiss, savoring her.

When they finally break apart, their foreheads rest together again, their breathing still uneven but calming. “You okay?” he asks softly, his eyes searching hers.

She nods, a small, blissful smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey, don't go non-verbal on me again,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Lan?” she says softly.

“Hm?”

She swallows, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t look away this time. “You are… I mean, it was my first time.”

For a moment, her words don’t fully register. He blinks, his brows knitting together as if he’s processing what she just said. “First time?” he repeats, his tone slow, almost disbelieving.

When she nods, her lips parting slightly as she struggles to hold his gaze, Lando’s eyes fix on hers. His first instinct is to check if she’s messing with him, but all he sees is her wrecked, post-sex state. Her hair is mussed and wild against the pillow, her skin flushed from her chest to her cheeks, her lips swollen and parted as she breathes unevenly. The faint sheen of sweat on her body catches the soft light, and her eyes are glassy, still hazy with satisfaction. She looks thoroughly undone — raw and real.

And he knows she’s not lying.

The realization hits him like a tsunami, leaving him momentarily speechless. His jaw tenses briefly, and instead of speaking, he leans down and captures her lips in a kiss. It’s not rushed or frantic but deep and meaningful, his lips moving against hers with a peaceful intensity. His hand cups her jaw, kissing her like he’s claiming every part of her. Because he is. The thought makes his head spin — the fact that she’s his completely.

“You should’ve told me,” says Lando, his voice thick with emotion. “I would’ve been more careful.”

“No, it was perfect,” she rushes to assure him. “Because it was with you.”

His eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Are you even real?” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing her again; her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips, trailing down her shoulders and neck, where he makes sure to leave marks behind. His hands roam her body with a newfound reverence, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Gonna spend the rest of the night showing you how much you mean to me,” he says, his lips brushing against her collarbone. “If you’ll let me.”

Her heart swells as she nods, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, his voice a low hum of satisfaction. “Because you deserve nothing less.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

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peachylynnie · 1 month ago

Text

wolf in sheep's clothing

word count: 2k

synopsis: in which xavier acts innocent despite his not-so-innocent touches.

contains: xavier x mc!reader (early established relationship), he kinda gaslights you (but with no bad intentions really), freaky xavier (not smut tho), suggestive themes, mentions of violence and death, and cussing.

a/n: i had to write for my second favorite lads man at some point. i read somewhere that the official chinese description for xavier is "wolf in sheep's clothing," (don't quote me on that; i could be wrong) and i wholeheartedly believe he is. do NOT copy or translate my work. xavier does NOT endorse plagiarism.

you're convinced your boyfriend is a wolf in sheep's clothing. sure, his pure cerulean eyes and tender voice might convince you otherwise (they did at first). but, with the way xavier's been touching you, you're sure of it. your boyfriend is a wolf in sheep's clothing, and you have the evidence to prove it. countless pieces of evidence, actually. but let's look at the most memorable ones, shall we?

evidence #1

"welcome home, starlight," xavier greets you with open arms and crinkled eyes. your heart can't help but swell at the sight. nothing compares to seeing your boyfriend in a cozy white sweater after opening the door following an exhaustive day of battling wanderers. you swear you were this close to losing it after dealing with lemonette's stupid limes for what seemed like hours. yet, xavier, in all his ash-gray-haired, blue-eyed, soft-spoken glory, takes your pains away with just one simple gesture of welcoming you home.

"hi, xavier." you fall into him, basking in the warmth of his tight embrace. you could honestly die a happy hunter from this. "i missed you."

xavier chuckles, pulling away so he can look at you properly. "i missed you too," he caresses your face. "i missed you so much." he crashes his lips into yours, ardently seeking your taste, your scent, your everything.

you're taken aback by xavier's sudden fervor. but, you return the favor by opening your mouth, eagerly granting his tongue entrance. it's not the first time your beloved boyfriend has initiated such a passionate kiss. after all, you two love each other very much, to the point you're willing to die for each other. a kiss like this is natural to come by; you're blissfully used to it. what you're not used to is what xavier does next.

he weaves his fingers into your hair and tugs.

"ah!" you pull away, panting with wide eyes. what the heck was that? he's never done that before. why did he do that? it felt so good.

xavier blinks at you innocently before asking, "you okay?"

"uh yeah," you stutter, trying to process what just happened. "i'm okay. are you okay?" seriously, is xavier, your puppy-like boyfriend, okay? why did he pull your hair? by no means did it hurt. it was a single, firm tug, yet it did so much, as evidenced by your shortage of breaths and clenching of thighs.

xavier smiles brightly and nods. you close your eyes, expecting him to resume the kiss, totally not hoping to feel his slender fingers pull on your hair. instead, this motherfucker he pecks your cheek and walks away, yawning. "i'm sleepy," he has the audacity to rub his eyes. "let's go to sleep, yeah?"

your jaw drops. did he seriously just suggest you go to sleep?! staring at your boyfriend, you expect an answer for his confusing behavior. xavier blinks innocently, again. "you sure you're okay, starlight?"

you frown, growing even more confused. he's not dumb. you know he's not dumb. heck, he's the association's best hunter. there's no way he doesn't know what he's doing to you. you sigh and shake your head, concluding that perhaps xavier was just caught up in the heat of the moment and was genuinely tired. after all, he battles wanderers too, even more than you. "yeah, i'm okay, xavier." you walk past him and towards your shared bedroom, trying to relieve your mind of certain thoughts. "let's sleep."

unfortunately, you don't catch the amusement in xavier's eyes when you bid him goodnight and turn off the lights.

evidence #2

"how's the food?" xavier asks, whispering into your ear.

beaming at him, you nod excitedly. "it's great. nothing like hotpot with friends on a cold night, right?"

indeed, little to nothing compared to spending time with xavier and your fellow hunters at your comfort restaurant. you and xavier were shoulder to shoulder, sitting across from tara and nero. everything was perfect. the food tasted amazing, your friends were enjoying themselves, and most importantly, xavier was right next to you, with a hand on your thigh, of course.

you don't mind in the slightest. it's assuring, actually. the warmth his touch provides adds more to this delightful atmosphere. content from both the food and the mood, you can't help but rest your head on your boyfriend's shoulder. "thanks for being here, xavier." you murmur.

xavier smiles softly, resting his cheek on your crown. "of course, starlight."

you giggle, nuzzling into him. you love it when he calls you that. "starlight." though, you can't help but feel it should be you calling him that instead. like an actual starlight, xavier shines brightly wherever he goes. from hunting hundreds of wanderers to protecting hundreds of civilians, xavier illuminates the world and you can't help but be blinded at times. not that you mind. you would gladly be blinded by him a million times over if it meant being in his presence.

"okay, that's enough, you lovebirds," tara teases.

you roll your eyes playfully, lifting your head from xavier's shoulder. as much as you would like to stay there forever, you understand the occasional nagging that comes with public displays of affection. hoping to sit up properly, you go to cross your legs. with a click of his tongue, xavier grips your thigh, hard.

yelping, you jolt in your seat. immediately, you cover your mouth, embarrassed over the borderline wanton noise you just made. you stare at xavier, mortified. what the fuck was that?

"are you okay?" tara says your name in concern. she tries to reach over the table, but xavier stops her by handing you some napkins with his free hand and adding another squeeze to your thigh. it's taking everything in you not to squeal.

"she's okay," xavier answers, smiling innocently. "she just spilled some broth, right?" he turns to you, expecting you to follow along.

"yeah," you answer shakily. "sorry, just got a little clumsy, i guess." after pretending to wipe yourself with the napkins xavier gave you, you down a glass of water, hoping to relieve the heat in your face and also in between your legs. you're not sure what is happening anymore. he's never gripped your leg before, let alone touched you so roughly. it felt so fucking good.

for the rest of the night, xavier continued to squeeze your thigh, leaving you a flustered mess. it was torture having to sit through the gathering without making any noise. every so often, when tara or nero wasn't looking, you looked at your boyfriend desperately, begging him to stop (not really) or at least provide an answer for why he was doing this. instead, he would just inch his hand higher and flash that damned innocent smile. by the time the waiter came back with the paid tab, xavier's hand was threatening access to your hip joint. you're not sure how he made his arm look like it wasn't doing anything.

after bidding tara and nero goodbye, you immediately drag xavier outside. "what was that?" you ask impatiently. the freezing air was doing absolutely nothing to cool your heated face, and you're not sure if that pissed you off more or xavier's calm expression.

xavier tilts his head to the right, feigning confusion. "what was what?"

you're want to scream so badly right now. "that!" you snap as you motion to your leg.

xavier tilts his head to the left, gathering his lips into a pout. "i just wanted to massage your leg since it seemed sore from training."

what the fuck? dumbfoundedly, you stare at xavier. there's no way those squeezes could be called a massage. but looking at his pouty face, you can't bring yourself to argue. well shit, now you just feel like a pervert.

you sigh, taking xavier's hand and heading towards the car. "thanks for the massage, xavier."

you miss the smirk growing on his face. "anything for you, starlight."

evidence #3 (happening right now, send help)

"whatcha making?" xavier cutely asks as he wraps his arms around your waist.

you were at the kitchen counter of your shared apartment, rolling some dough with your flour-covered palms. "i wanted to try making some pizza," you answer, entirely focused on the task in front of you. "i saw a tutorial on tiktok. seemed simple enough."

xavier hums, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you giggle, feeling him inhale deeply. it's the quiet and domestic moments like these that make you imagine another life where you and xavier aren't hunters. just people free from the constant dangers of hunting wanderers and protecting civilians. you sigh, reaching across the counter for the tomato sauce. at the end of the day, you and xavier are evolvers. having an innate ability means protecting those who can't protect themselves, even if it means risking your lives. but, both you and xavier can agree the look of relief on people's faces when reuniting with their loved ones is worth the risk.

the tomato sauce is within reach until you jump back into place. why? oh, because xavier's right hand is inching towards the waistband of your panties. "xavier!" you turn around immediately, facing him with widened eyes and flushed cheeks. "what are you doing?!"

you've had enough. the last couple of weeks have been a literal hell with how much your boyfriend's been teasing you, filling your head with dirty thoughts, and acting as if he doesn't know what he's doing. it's as if he's purposely avoiding following through with his actions, not giving you what you fucking want even though he's the one that's been initiating things. not to mention, his hand is still in your pants.

xavier rests his left hand on the counter, pinning you in place. your breath hitches, feeling him rest his forehead on yours. "i'm sorry," he sulks. "i just wanted to touch your belly button."

"stop lying," you say immediately. "last time i checked, my belly button is NOT at my fucking panties." you don't care if you sound harsh. you want xavier to answer for his crimes—crimes being leaving you hanging and making you question your sanity.

xavier chuckles. this motherfucker he dares to chuckle while you look at him with furrowed brows and twisted lips. "it's not funny," you scold. "you've been weird the last few weeks-"

your breath hitches as xavier dips the tips of his fingers past your waistband. holy fucking shit. what is this man doing?! "x-xavier?!"

he doesn't answer. instead, he presses short yet sensual kisses all over your face, slowly trailing down to your neck. you try to stop yourself from whimpering.

"you know," xavier mumbles. "i've been waiting for you to say something." he continues to mouth at your neck, causing you to squirm.

"s-say what?" you ask trembling. fuck, you think you just felt his tongue peak out.

"oh, i don't know," he switches to the other side of your neck. "something like 'xavier please' or 'xavier more'" and with that, he returns both of his hands to your waist, lifts you up effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, and dives straight into your lips.

"xavier! mmph!" there was flour on the counter, meaning there was flour on your pants now. "you're making mmph! a mess!"

"that's not what i want to hear, starlight," xavier shakes his head as he pulls away from you. "it's like you want me to stop."

his fingers rub slow circles into your thighs, causing you to writhe uncontrollably. so this is why he's been acting so fucking teasing the last few weeks. he wanted to do things with you—take your relationship to the next level. but you had to be the one to say it. why? you're not sure. maybe it stroked his ego or something. you don't care anymore. you're pent up from xavier's antics, and all you want right now is for him to follow through. if saying "please" and "more" is what it takes, so be it.

you grab xavier's shirt collar, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him to you. his eyes widen at your sudden rough actions. but there's a hint of amusement in his eyes, teetering on the edge between curiosity and arousal. though nothing could prepare xavier for what you do next.

"xavier," you whisper into his ear, stroking his nape with your index finger. "can you please give me more?"

xavier inhales sharply, his grip tightening around your thighs.

"i thought you'd never ask, starlight."

#this took longer than i wanted #it's fine #anything for xavier #xavier x reader #xavier x mc #xavier x you #love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #lads xavier #lnds xavier #xavier fluff #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fic

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livingformintyoongi · 8 months ago

Note

Jungkook eating her gf out by the pool while she's laying on the lounger and enjoying the sun because he's so pussy whipped he just can't control himself

Summer Days

a/n: It was so hard to start writing this because the description was too vague AH- for the anon who asked for this, I hope it was what you were looking for, I tried to do the best I could 😣. wc: 1.4k taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss

“What's wrong?” you muttered under your breath, feeling your boyfriend pierce your profile with his gaze. You didn't bother to look at him, mostly because you didn't think what he wanted to ask you was something that warranted it. You loved your boyfriend, but you had waited too long to get to this part of your book, you couldn't stop now.

“Uhm, I was just thinking... you look very pretty today” he nodded quickly, stirring in his lounger, “I haven't seen you in that swimsuit before, it's beautiful.”

You nodded silently, pushing your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose, your attention still completely on your book, “I bought it recently, Soyeon saw it on sale and thought it would look good on me, so she bought it.” You turned the page, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook awkwardly got up from his lounger and approached you. For a second you turned to watch him, following his every move as he sat down across from you, using your lounger as a seat.

“Hey, can I ask you a strange question?” he said softly, resting his hand on your thigh and caressing your soft skin so gently that even you were surprised. Jungkook's touch was firm most of the time, indeed, you were very likely to feel his large hands land on some part of your body and give it a gentle but firm squeeze, never so light and delicate.

You set your book down resting on your abdomen, lifting your sunglasses so you could get a better look at your boyfriend, “Sure, go ahead.” You noticed how his hand slowly made its way up to your inner thigh, his cheeks were slightly pink, but you had no idea if it was due to the strong sun today or if it was out of embarrassment.

“Can I eat you?” he lifted his gaze from your legs to your face, giving you the most depressing and tender lamb eyes possible, just the ones he always gave you when he wanted something from you. He knew perfectly well that they were your weakness, and he was more than willing to use it against you.

“Here?” you laughed under your breath, looking around. You weren't in a public place, your boyfriend was lucky enough to have a medium sized pool in the backyard of his house, which to his luck had a fairly large wall that kept out the prying eyes of nosy people, but that didn't take away from the fact that you were still in an open place, and in the middle of the day to boot.

“I promise I'll be quick, before you know it you'll be cumming on my tongue, I swear” he hastened to say, swinging his leg up and down. He watched your every expression, trying to see what your response would be and praying it would be positive.

“Okay, but don't even think I'll clean the deck chair” you sighed, putting your sunglasses back down and opened the book to the page you were left with. You knew well that Jungkook cared little and nothing about you putting all his attention on him when he licked your pussy, he always seemed to be so immersed in his own world when he did it.

“Yes!” he nodded quickly, settling quickly between your legs, letting them rest on his shoulders. His fingers gently removed the cool fabric from your skin. He had no plans to fuck, so he just pushed it aside, watching your intimacy intently as he licked his lips.

He kissed your inner thighs with utmost care, each kiss he gave was a kiss closer to your center, the place he wanted, no, needed to get to in order to continue his quiet day. His teeth gently tugged at your sensitive skin, causing you to stir from the lounger. From your position you had been able to feel his shit-eating grin as he saw your reaction.

You felt an electric current run up and down your spine the moment Jungkook ran his tongue along your slit slowly but firmly. You both let out a moan at the contact. “You taste so good...I don't think I can get over it” he laughed softly, kissing every bit of skin he could find. His fingers itched with the need he felt to get at least one inside you.

You brought one of your hands to his hair, stroking from it as Jungkook's kisses became increasingly messy and sloppy, slowly disturbing your breathing and the tingling in your lower stomach.

He blew gently on your entrance, bringing his fingers to it so he could open it, plunging his tongue inside you. Jungkook had to hold your hips to keep them from lifting off the lounger, grunting against your pussy as he felt your fingers tugging at his hair.

“Shit, so soon? You're seriously desperate” you muttered, letting your head fall back as your boyfriend moved his tongue inside you, touching just the spots he knew would provoke a reaction in your body.

Jungkook completely ignored your comment, focusing solely on the sensation of your pussy enveloping his tongue tightly. He used one of his hands to hold your hips still while the other settled over your clit and gave it the attention he knew you loved.

He wasn't wrong at all.

Your back hunched slightly and your breathing became even more agitated. By this point your book had fallen to the side and you didn't even remember clearly what you read last, but you didn't mind at all, your boyfriend was making up for it in the best way.

You frowned as you felt his tongue slowly leave your insides and his fingers move away from your clit. You lowered your gaze to him, not quite understanding what he was planning to do.

He brushed the hair out of your eyes, wiping your chin with the back of his hand. His gaze never left your pussy, and you could feel from your place how he wanted to continue what he was doing. He gave you one last look before moving back down, but this time it was his mouth that started to play with your clit, causing your whole body to shudder. You had to cling to his hair to keep from losing your mind.

“Fuck” you moaned softly, too stunned to be able to say a full sentence. On his side, Jungkook was more than happy to suck and bite that little button he loved so much. He circled it with licks, bit it, pulled it with his teeth and sucked on it until his very lips felt numb, and it was only then that he decided to stick two of his fingers inside you, curving them right where he knew your G-spot was. His body trembled with pleasure as he heard you moan his name.

“You're squeezing my fingers pretty hard, are you going to cum yet?” he laughed teasingly, moving his fingers inside you faster than before, opening them once they were deeper inside you, he regretted teasing you the instant he felt you pull his hair so hard he feared you were going to pull a strand out of his head.

“Shit, shit, shit” you groaned through your teeth, futilely trying to push Jungkook away from your pussy, but he obviously wasn't going to allow that. He clung to your hips as if his life depended on it, trying to take every last drop of your cum, and even when you were done, he spent at least a minute giving little licks along your pussy until he was completely satisfied.

“I told you I wouldn't be long at all” he smiled proudly at you, wiping his chin awkwardly.

You rolled your eyes, fixing your swimsuit and getting up as best you could from the chair. Jungkook had to help you to another lounger due to the strong trembling of your legs, “Next time try to do it when I’m not busy, disrespectful” you laughed under your breath, letting your weight fall on the lounger.

“Whatever the lady of the house says” he replied teasingly, leaning back next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and settling his head on your chest, ready to take a nap in your arms, with one of your hands in his hair and the other on your book.

Masterlist

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mybelovedfleur · 22 days ago

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,,𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶" 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼

(Yandere!Silco x Amnesiac!Fem!Reader)

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

!TW! FantasyAU! Heavy Yandere Themes, Silco is ooc for sure, vomiting, sick!reader, violence, mention of death, I will tag every chapter seperately! :)

Description: ,, A series of unfortunate events causes you to completely lose your memory. Now, you find yourself thrust into the role of the Duchess of Zaun, married to a man you don’t recognize. But was this ever truly your life? And why does the scent of blood cling to you, no matter where you go? "

Note: english is NOT my first language, I am very much open for critique and suggestions but pls be nice and respectful :c

Also a big ty and ily to @ink-and-dagger because DWM is the best fic on the internet and you should read it immediatelly! They're the main reason for me coming back to writing after YEARS, yes it is that good C: GO READ IT NOW OR REREAD IT IDC

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

A violent cough escaped your lips, food remains mixed with blood landed on the undoubtedly expensive silverware before you. A warm hand found its way to your back, moving in soothing circles, while you tried to catch your breath. You frowned at the mess you made, tears slowly clouding your vision.

,,I'm so sorry" you whispered in embarrassment, looking down at your weak, trembling hands.

"Don’t," Silco muttered, his brow furrowed as he wiped your face gently. "I shouldn’t have let you eat at the table. You’re too weak, my love." His tone was firm, but the action was oddly tender. It felt as though you were a child being cared for by a doting mother. But the difference was evident - you were a grown woman, and he was your husband, at least that’s what he told you.

"We're going back to bed now, that's enough stress for you today, beloved," he said without a second's hesitation, immediately picking you up and heading towards the bedroom as you whimpered in his hold. It was the first time Silco had allowed you to be anywhere beyond your bedroom or the bathroom. Sitting at the table, rather than being spoon fed by him while lying in bed felt strangely liberating, a brief moment of freedom you hadn’t realized you craved so much.

,,It's morning" you were certain he heard your complaints, yet he chose to ignore them as he tucked you under the covers of an annoyingly comfortable bed. You felt like you had explored every nook and cranny of that room a hundred times, and stepping outside of it felt like a trip to an amusement park.

The matress beside you dipped under his weight, while his hand started to softly carress your hair

,,I'll bring you your medicine, you'll feel better then, alright?" his touch traveled over your temple, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear ,, I'll be right next to you, I'll read the reports and you'll fall asleep cuddled up to me, warm and soft" a delicate kiss landed on your head "Just like you used to"

It's been 2 weeks since you woke up. A dense fog shrouded your mind, obscuring everything. Who are you? What is your name? These seemingly simple questions only deepened the ache in your head. The pain had been unbearable then - every little movement was difficult. Your body felt exhausted and weak, as if it was pushing against the limits of its own capabilities.

It felt as though you had been dragged through hell and back—there was no other way to explain the state you were in. For the first few days, you burned with fever, teetering on the edge of consciousness, struggling to hold on to even a fleeting sense of reality.

In those brief moments when you managed to grasp even a sliver of reality around you, there was always that one hand gently touching your forehead, that one voice soothing your nerves, whispering sweet words of comfort.

You felt then as if some higher power took pity on your tormented soul, sending you an angel who became your only anchor in all this madness, his presence was like a silent ray of light piercing through the thick fog of pain. Every time his presence was felt, your whole body seemed to cry out for his touch, as if he was the only cure for the pain, the only being who could heal you. You were sure that if only you could, you would pull him to you, locking him in a strong embrace.

The reality turned out to be much more bitter than you expected.

When you first saw his face, a crushing feeling of terror ran through your body, unable to move on your own, completely at the mercy of this strange man. Your body trembled on its own with his every touch, almost trying desperately to scream for you to run away, the complete opposite of your imaginary savior.

At first you thought it was just his appearance that made you so terrified, and you couldn't help but feel disgusted with yourself.

Yet despite his terrifying, almost inhuman eye and wounded face, the fear you felt ran deeper. It was some intangible, subconscious force that told you to stay away, as if something in his presence dangerously shook your intuition.

At first glance, you could already tell that he was an extremely elegant and wealthy man. His clothes were woven with gold and silver threads, perfectly fitting his figure, as if it was an indispensable part of him.

You were convinced that this place belonged to him. The opulence and grandeur of this bedroom made you feel almost alien, like you had no right to be there, like all this luxury didn't suit you in any way.

But the way he looked at you made you feel like you were a priceless treasure, a million times more valuable and beautiful than anything he ever owned. Only then did you begin to consider that it was the same person who had been standing by your bed all those days. His face immediately softened when he noticed you were no longer desperately trying to get away from him.

He told you everything, not taking his eyes off your face, as if he was looking for any reaction in it, as if each of your glances could reveal something he hadn't said yet. "I am Silco, Duke of Zaun, you are (Y/N), my only, dearest wife" the way he said it, as if it was a sacred thing, known to the world for centuries. He knelt down in front of your bedside, took your cold hand in his and gave it a kiss that involuntarily made everything inside you instantly quiet, your fear, the trembling of your body, the accelerated heartbeat audible in your ears, and probably your common sense.

A month ago, when your carriage was attacked by his enemies, their goal was him - but fate would have it that he wasn't with you in that moment. Against all odds, despite your wounds, you managed to escape, the only survivor. Amidst the raging storm, you wandered breathlessly through the forest, with every moment your wounds were deepening, and your strength was fading. Surely at some point you had to fall, the doctors said that the wound on the back of your head was critical.

You felt the internal pain that he must have experienced, almost spilling over to you. Every word he spoke carried pain and indescribable sadness, as if what he was telling was not only a story but also a painful memory that would not give him peace.

You sat there, legs pulled up to your chest, heart beating at an accelerated pace. Although you tried to make a sound, the words died in your throat, and the huge lump that was stuck there prevented you from saying anything. Finally, unable to contain your emotions, tears began to flow, silently running down your cheeks.

The moment he pulled you to him and locked you in a tight embrace you were unable to resist , or tell if his embrace was a gesture of a savior or the bonds of an executioner.

You closed your eyes and gave yourself into his hands

You wouldn't get an answer.

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

A terrible coldness took over your body, you opened your eyes the moment an icy gust of wind touched your face. You groggily sat up, to your surprise the door to Silco's office was wide open, compared to the darkness of the bedroom, a faint glow of a dancing candle flame was emerging from that room. Your feet touched the cold floorboards, and the sound of your own breathing seemed exaggeratedly loud

And it was only when the door handle was within reach of your hand that you realized you were able to move without Silco's help. Your legs no longer seemed to disobey you, standing no longer made you nauseous, and the inevitable headache disappeared.

The office was shrouded in mist, and its humidity made you slowly squint. The candle flame seemed to shimmer more and more intensely in your eyes, its light reflecting aggressively on the dark walls. Could it be smoke and not mist? Surely such a small candle couldn't do that, a fire had to start somewhere. As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you felt it,

As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you felt it - the sharp smell of burning forcefully entered your lungs. Choking, ragged breaths spasmed from your throat. As you grabbed your neck, and tried to back away to the bedroom, only a blank wall stood where the door had been, as if it had never been there.

"Ṣ̷͇͓͚̓̍a̶̭͒v̷͉̹̦̊̋̿ẻ̷̳ ̵̪͔̭̓̿͑͝ư̸̖ͅs̸̻͚̯͐" a desperate cry echoed in your ears, your eyes wandering around the room in panic. But the blinding glow of the candle flames made everything around them merge into one, as if time and space had ceased to exist.

"I̷͗͐͜t̷̢͇̪͗͆͝'̸̘̟̕s̶͈̘͝ ̶̺̞͈͓͆̒̓͘h̷̜̥̙͚̄͐̏̕ì̷̟̙͇̭̐̑̕s̶̢͖̏ ̶͇͝f̵͓͋ą̸̘͔̤͐̍̌ú̵̹̕l̵̨͎̈́̒̓́t̴͉̬͒̍.̷̡̣̭́.̵̡̯̠̋̓.̸̩̭͍͎̈́͊́͐" screams, sobs, dying breaths, desperate attempts to catch even a moment of respite. In the background, that terrifying, constant sound of burning wood, as if the world was about to fall to pieces.

"Y̴̜̎̔͛͂o̴͔̎ṵ̷̾͆̊̈r̴̟̜͚͂͌͘ ̵̢̖͙̫́̄f̵̰̚a̷͈̽͋̀͝ủ̵͙͑̕l̷̹̳̻͖̈͝ţ̸̐͋"

#silco #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco x you #yandere silco #yandere silco x reader #arcane #yandere arcane #silco fic #yandere #yandere themes #arcane fanfic #fantasy au #yandere x reader

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minispidey · 2 months ago

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01. Unclaimed Wedding Vows.

Duke James 'Logan' Howlett x f!reader CHAPTER ONE: THE LADY'S DILEMMA

warnings: besides me being extra descriptive, none. Leclaire is just a random last name for reader's family, and isn't coded as any race. OLD MAN LOGAN! ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I had a dictionary and a dream.

summary: A new season has dawned for you, Lady Leclaire, and this time, the stakes are higher. Your father is encouraging you to seek out a suitor, a contrast to the previous season when you made your debut but remained a mere spectator, and avoided the social whirl around you. This year, none of the debutants have managed to capture the queen's eye... that is, until the arrival of Duke James Howlett, who has unexpectedly entered the market. His entrance has changed the dynamics of the season entirely, bringing in whispers of intrigue and the promise of romance.

word count: 4.1k no beta we dying like logan 2017 (edit 12/7/24: edited some parts that i thought weren't needed. It just really stretches out the story. Anyways as usual, english is not my first language)

series masterlist.

The Queen is no stranger to the drama and heartache that come with reluctant or unfortunate brides and grooms—after all, her children often create quite the spectacle. The quest for the perfect match is a thrilling dilemma shared by every woman, even the Queen herself.

Under the dulcet tones of courtly sounds, a buzz of pressure was felt as the mamas whispered amongst themselves, feeling that they were up against unfair competition. With every new lady, the stakes climbed higher, and the probability of their daughters getting one of those marvelous matches became even smaller.

All the mamas, except for yours, panicked. You stood among the other women after being cooped up for the entire season. This time, you felt trapped, as your father had finally returned home to guide you.

You watched intently as each young lady glided toward the Queen, curtsying with grace and poise, only to be waved away almost instantly. The Queen sat majestically on her throne, appearing bored, her eyes glancing over the newcomers without a flicker of curiosity or admiration. Each presentation seemed to blend into the next, as though she were trapped in a routine, her expression one of deep ennui. It was clear she had encountered countless hopefuls before, and they were nothing more than fleeting shadows in her world.

"And I assume you didn't have the opportunity to introduce yourself to the Queen during the last season?" your father inquired, his gaze fixed intently on the unfolding presentation.

You released a quiet exhale. "I did not."

"Perhaps it is not too late to gain her blessing then."

You shut your eyes tightly, yearning for the comforting embrace of your soft blankets, wrapped securely in the sanctuary of your bedroom. The dim light of the suffocating room pressed in on you, making every breath feel heavy and labored. Even the tiny, cramped space beneath a table offered a sense of solace, an escape from the atmosphere that surrounded you.

"I believe I do not need the Queen's blessing to gain a husband." You opened your eyes and met the gaze of the men across the room, all ogling you and vying for your attention.

"But it certainly would help."

"Father." As you turned your head to meet his gaze, he gently pressed two fingers against your cheek, a firm yet tender gesture that redirected your focus back to the Queen. The movement felt like a subtle command, leaving you with a sense of unease.

Everyone knew Lord Leclaire’s sweet but spoiled daughter. You were the cherished only child of his first love, a woman whose memory lingered like a delicate perfume throughout the halls. As the sole offspring of a father who mourned a lost love, you basked in the benefits that came with being the only child of a wealthy widower. One of the most significant perks was the freedom to indulge in every whim, as your father poured his affection and resources solely into you, ensuring that your every desire was met with lavish gifts and endless attention.

Deep down, you understood that you were worthy of nothing less than the finest luxuries.

You favored silk that cascaded softly against your skin over any mere satin; you would always choose a decadent cake, rich with layers of flavor, instead of a simple slice of bread. Lace trim, with its intricate beauty, was your preference over the ordinary ribbons that could never capture the same elegance.

It is no different for your future husband. While your father and governess might worry that your high standards would scare men away, the reality is quite the contrary. Instead of feeling intimidated, they find themselves irresistibly drawn to you, captivated by the magnetic allure that lies behind your icy gaze. Even with the cool, distant expression on your features, it only seems to heighten their curiosity and determination, making them yearn to uncover the warmth that they sense lies beneath.

You chose to disregard the men around you, even those who struggled to position themselves beside you. Each one of them was aware of your allure, for you were undeniably the most desirable woman in the room.

There no doubt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

The ideal husband embodies a man of immense respect and admiration within his community, someone whose character and achievements inspire others. He possesses a substantial income that not only assures financial stability but also enables a luxurious lifestyle adorned with beautiful estates and properties. Above all, he shall be someone with whom you share a deep emotional connection, a person who ignites your heart and soul, making you genuinely fall in love.

Even in tough times, your heart stayed open to romance, a belief instilled by your parents' words on love's power. They taught you that every love story holds magic, so you refused to settle for less than your ideals. The thought of growing old alone felt better than being with someone who didn’t meet your high standards for love.

Some mamas convince their daughters to settle for what they can have, and luckily (or unluckily), your mother had passed away so she had no say in who you would marry. But if she were alive, she would encourage you to keep searching for the one.

You sat in front of your dressing table as your father delicately placed down each one of the gifts he bought for you on your soft carpeted floor. All the boxes were wrapped with bright paper and ribbons that shone under soft light.

You absent-mindedly played with a chest filled with a variety of trinkets: delicate porcelain figurines of cats, shimmering glass beads, and rusty old coins, each speaking of far-off places.

"That presentation was a disaster, if I may say so, Father," you remarked. "The Queen seemed unsatisfied and I feel very bad for those young ladies involved."

"Don't worry, my dear. All the young ladies will have another opportunity to flatter the Queen tonight when she hosts her ball," your father said softly, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

He put a slice of cake in front of you, the scent of vanilla and frosting wafting up to greet your senses. "I just brought it home this afternoon. It seemed to be quite the hit at the bakery."

"Even so, the Queen is fussy. She knows exactly what she wants and exactly what she deserves." And you accepted a slice of cake from him, bit into it, and he made no allowance for such an unladylike manner.

"She knows her choice cannot be just a simple lady—someone who can proudly yet modestly reveal she is Her Majesty's favorite, embodying every trait a lady possesses or desires."

You stood up from your mirror and stepped out onto the balcony. The breeze tousled your hair while the sun danced across your skin. Your presence startled a cluster of doves on the railings, who flew away in a flurry of white feathers.

"Perhaps I have a chance..."

Your father smiled, thinking that you would seek the favor of the Queen and then secure a place of honor in her court. However, as he smiled at you with that gleam of expectation in his eyes, your thoughts went elsewhere. You couldn't help but think that if the Queen wielded the power to select her favored ones, then surely you too could find a husband who meets your expectations— someone who embodies those qualities you want and actually deserves your heart.

Far from the Leclaire house, a lavish carriage adorned with intricate gold detailing, and luxurious silk stopped in front of the Queen's grand palace. The arrival drew the eyes of the servants peering from the ornate windows, their breaths caught in awe as the distinguished Duke Howlett stepped out. His walk was far from graceful, marked by a heavy, almost cumbersome stride; yet, with every step he took, he demanded the whole world’s attention, as if the very air shifted at his presence.

The Queen sat on her throne, her heart fluttering with anticipation for her friend’s arrival. She clapped her hands twice, signaling the musicians to stop. As silence enveloped the grand hall, she took a deep breath, savoring the stillness before her friend's entrance.

The elderly man slowly stepped into the room, his soft curled silver hair glinting softly in the light as he bowed his head, a gesture of respect. A sharp jolt of pain surged through his back, causing him to stifle a groan that escaped his lips. His frame remained strong, but telltale signs of age were etched on his skin, and shaking his hands revealed fragility in his bones.

"Is that as low as you can go, old man?" the Queen raised an eyebrow.

The Duke exhaled softly, a hint of relief washing over him as he straightened his posture, pulling his shoulders back. "If I could humble myself any further, Your Majesty," he said with a wry smile, "I would find myself six feet under."

"Logan! My dearest friend, why have you come?" A chuckle escaped the Queen. "I suppose you will be joining the gentlemen this season to search for a bride. You are getting, oh so very old."

With a long sigh, he nodded. "And you would be right."

The Queen drops her cup of tea and her eyes are blown wide open. "Are you trying to kill me? I could have you executed for attempting to do so." she laughed loudly.

"I am the last Howlett. If I want to continue my family name, I need a wife to bear my children." Logan coughed into a handkerchief before quickly composing himself. "Any lady will do, as long as she won't disturb me."

"Nonsense!" the Queen exclaimed, clapping her hands loudly and surprising her ladies, who were busy cleaning up the spilled tea and the broken cup. "You are a highly respected man. A Duke! Do you think I would allow you to marry a simple lady? You shall marry my diamond!"

"While Her Majesty is very kind, I would prefer not to spend too much time searching."

"I know I am very kind," the Queen huffed. "For I would be the one spending too much time looking— I was not even planning on looking for one. You are very welcome."

"I am not very selective, Your Majesty. Any lady will suffice." The Duke shook his head.

"Then you should have married a maid," the Queen said, cutting off the Duke's response with a raised hand. "I do not tolerate objections. I am doing you a favor, and it is an insult to refuse a gift. As your most humble and loyal friend, I cannot accept your decision to marry merely any lady."

From a tender age, the Duke was aware of the dynamics that surrounded individuals of high status. Placed in the role of Duke early in life, he quickly became the center of attention, a figure that drew gaze and admiration from all. At lavish gatherings, young ladies would shamelessly fight for his attention, their motives often far from innocent. Such experiences led him to retreat from the social scene altogether, burying himself in the labyrinthine of his duties.

Years passed since then, and while he amassed vast wealth and commanded respect, the relentless march of time had etched deeper lines into his visage, a testament to his toil. In his pursuit of success, the concept of legacy slipped through his fingers like sand. The urgency of fatherhood, the need to secure a successor to inherit the family fortune and the sprawling estates, faded into the background, overshadowed by the relentless demands of his work.

He retraced his steps through the grand palace hallways, made elegant with tapestries and chandeliers that spoke of the royal family's rich history. The scent of polished wood lingered in the air as he entered his carriage.

As the carriage rolled through the bustling streets of London, he gazed out at the vibrant city. He was heading to his estate—a property that had been neglected from his infrequent visits. Despite its silence and overgrown gardens, he had ensured everything was prepared, as this time he sought a bride.

The estate needed to be more than just a residence; it had to convey wealth and status, a place where a future wife could envision a life of comfort and elegance. As he approached the imposing estate between tall trees and trimmed hedges, a shiver ran down his spine.

Change loomed over him like a storm cloud, heavy and foreboding. Everyone knew that the Duke didn't take kindly to anything that came between himself and his well-planned world.

In a dazzling celebration marking the start of the season, the Queen organized a magnificent ball.

The grand ballroom was decked with sparkling chandeliers, and the air carried the sweet melodies of an orchestra that enticed everyone to dance. The Queen initially wanted not to attend her ball at all. Her change of mind came when there was the unexpected arrival of Duke James Howlett - a man of nobility seeking a worthy Duchess. His presence sparked great commotion, forcing the Queen to reverse her decision and plunge deep into the celebration before her. Everyone moved graciously in unity across the polished floor within the grand ballroom while soft, sweet melodies filtered in the air from the orchestra, wrapping around each of the elegantly attired couples and bouncing off the ceiling lined with sparkling chandeliers.

Amidst the vibrant gathering, you stood there elegantly commanding the room's attention. The soft murmur of admiration reverberated in the air as captivated gazes fell upon you like the breaking of the clouds. Your beauty shone with an enchanting glow and drew intrigued whispers from those around you. The debutantes, dressed in their finest, exchanged glances, all in agreement that you were the epitome of allure, the most desirable woman present.

The men ogled, all desiring you— the impossible. You glanced at them with a sharp look in your eye, ready to pounce and overpower those who dared to come too close. Intimidation ran through the veins of the LeClaire family, a legacy passed down through generations as an artful weapon to draw out the right partner. Your father never quite mastered it, but you had it in spades.

A coarse hand jerked you against the warmth of a muscular body. You gasped sharply, your breath catching as crimson wine splattered across your silk dress, the bright stain blooming like a dark flower against the delicate fabric. Turning to face the source of this unexpected collision, you saw the culprit—a flustered figure retreating into the collar of his tailored suit, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Now you are looking at the rough, ancient man that pulled you against his chest. For a moment you were lost in the green depth of his eyes: the color of a rain-soaked forest. But then, with a sharp jolt, you feel yourself pulling away from his grasp, looking back to the deep red stain on your dress.

"This is silk-" you hissed, your voice laced with barely controlled anger that threatened to bubble over at any moment, like a pot that is about to boil over. Every fiber of your body was aflame with fury as you clutched the fabric, feeling the smooth texture slip through your fingers, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within you.

Before you can vent your pent-up anger, a voice cuts in on you, surprising you by its calmness. "On behalf of the gentleman, I profoundly apologize, my lady," the old man says, his face showing a hint of concern. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he adds, "I will summon a servant immediately to assist you."

His voice slowly relieved the fiery tension within your heart. You took a deep breath, feeling centered "I accept your apology," you responded with an elegant curtsy as if to hold off the weight of the moment. "However, I feel I should retire for the night."

You watch as he opens his mouth, in probable protest, and you spin on your heel, cutting him off before a single word escaped his lips. The atmosphere in the room grew stressful, as if it was squeezing the air from your lungs.

Every glance is like a sharp dart, piercing through you, and one can almost hear the stifled giggles that lie just under the surface. The picture remains in your head: this once-towering ice princess, now reduced to become the target of their teasing, a crimson wine stain spreading like an unwanted prophecy across her elegant dress, an emblem of the embarrassment from the evening.

You stepped warily through the garden, surrounded by the sweet scent of flowers when suddenly a firm hand gripped your wrist.

You turned around quickly with that swift pull and lost your airy handkerchief. As you regained your balance, you looked up at the grizzled old man, his face a weathered map of worry. "My lady," he said, his voice gravelly yet warm, "please don't go just because a gentleman has clumsily spilled a drink upon your dress."

"I've never been one to enjoy parties," you said, your voice almost whispering above the din of conversation around you. You looked down at the dark red wine stain that seemed to mar the elegant weave of your dress. Your sigh was heavy as you continued, "I want only to go home. This accident is just the right reason to slip away."

He bows his head once more as an apology.

As you moved out of the grand palace, the old man lifted his head, and you caught a glimpse of your eyes for a moment as you passed. You half-turned, nodding towards your footman, who stood there just beyond the entrance. At your signal, he ran off, the fine weave of his livery rustling a little as he hastened to summon the carriage.

The afternoon light seeps through the curtains, and your eyes linger on the deep red stains your dress still bears from last night. Running your hand absent-mindedly over the silk, you hear the creak of the door as your maids enter the room.

"My lady," one of the called you, her voice full of excitement. "A package has arrived for you."

They cautiously approached your bed, where a huge light blue box was lying there. It was shrouded in beautiful wrappings, the expensive and opulent silk ribbon beautifully cascading over it. This sight made you curious; hence, you drew nearer to it.

"Who is it from?" Your fingers played gently with the smooth ribbon that bordered the box, feeling its softness as you waited for the surprise inside.

"We cannot say for sure, my lady," the maid said, furrowing her brow with worry. "What are we to do with it? Are we to throw it away?"

"No, I assure you, it is alright." you said, fingers twitching slightly as you fumbled to loosen the flimsy ribbon securing the tie. You gave it a gentle tug, unfolding the layers of paper under your fingers like delicate silken petals.

As you opened the box with utmost care, your gaze fell on a letter in it. The letter had a deep red wax for its seal, and this was stamped with an intricately designed crest that instantly took your breath away. This was undoubtedly a Duke's crest. A feeling of awe swept over you as you softly gasped and stood up in shock. HOWLETT.

"I don't believe it."

You ran back, your breath coming up in expectation as you unfolded the thin tissue paper that covered an amazing sight.

Lying before you was a gown unlike any you had ever seen—a vision of beauty and majesty. The silk shone dimly in the light, and its texture spoke of the skill of the finest artisans in the land. Your heart races for the reality of what actually had happened at the ball the other night: a real apology at the hands of a duke— and this beautiful gown. It's too ridiculous to think that he— the duke would hand to you something this private for you.

Was he scouting you as a potential Duchess?

You could hardly suppress an excited squeal as you sent your maids off, hoping for a few minutes to yourself. Holding the dress up against your chest, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, mesmerized by its beauty. Reaching your bed, you snatched the letter.

As you read the Duke's letter that accompanied the dress, newspapers fluttered all over town with their front pages splashed with the face of Duke James Howlett. His face was everywhere—the center of attention since last night's ball when whispers and glances revealed he was after a wife to elevate to duchess status.

Despite his age, the mamas eagerly nudged their debutantes to charm the Duke. After all, they had high hopes for a prestigious match in high society.

Every lady in town eagerly flocked to the modiste, set on getting new exquisite gowns that would dazzle the Duke at the upcoming ball. Silks and satins fluttered in the air as they envisioned the moment he would notice their carefully crafted attire. Meanwhile, the Duke, unaware of the flurry he inspired, focused on matters far different from the shimmering dresses vying for his attention.

Like when he received the dress he gave you.

"What is this?" he said raising his eyebrow, curiosity dancing across his eyes as he observed the box that his servant held in both hands, the elegant packaging soft to the touch, a deep light blue, and silky ribbon tied across it shining under the warm light of the room. It was that gift he had picked up for you, and couldn't help but wonder at what your reaction had been when you opened it.

He slowly raises the lid of the box.

Inside, the dress lies perfectly folded in delicate fabric. Alongside it is a letter, its envelope decorated with an elegant wax seal. As he tears it open, a wave of fragrance envelops him, the sweet, unmistakable scent of fresh roses wafting through the air and stirring memories within him of when he held you close. He opens the letter, revealing your beautiful handwriting, each stroke flowing across the page.

“Dearest Duke Howlett,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I write to you with a heavy heart regarding the exquisite silk dress you so graciously gifted me.

As you may remember from last night’s event, a man accidentally spilled wine on the dress. Despite my best efforts to remedy the situation, the stain has proven stubborn.

Because of this, I think it’s best to return the dress to you. It deserves to be loved and worn as you intended. I am very sad to part with such a lovely piece, which brought me so much happiness.

Moreover, I find myself at a loss for words, as I cannot comprehend why a man of your esteemed stature would choose to bestow such an exquisite gown upon someone like myself. I am simply a lady, while you are a Duke. If my father were to witness this generous gesture, he might very well assume that you were proposing—a notion that brings a flush to my cheeks.

I deeply appreciate your kindness and generosity, and I hope to have the opportunity to discuss this matter further, perhaps with a dance.

With warmest regards...”

He finally learns your name, and as he reads it repeatedly. He softly whispers it to himself, allowing the syllables to linger in the air. A warm ember ignites in Logan’s chest, a stirring sensation that could be mistaken for something as simple as inflammation. Yet, deep down, he senses it might also be the dawning realization that he may have discovered a potential match—perhaps a true Duchess worthy of his affections.

tag list (open!) btw i cried when yall asked to be tagged ilysm: @dragovegogrimborn @manifester3 @buhitosueco @saltedcoffeescotch @angeiulst @moonpascal @v13nx @cleverfestivalconnoisseur @rexmeshlasblog @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @trickstersteve @tighrenicotine @luv4kook @steviebbboi @eldauvs @cards-and-daggers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @awsome262338 @lustdotlove @jax-the-oregonian @misscrissfemmefatale @hereforthehitsbaby @lightupsketchersperson @st4rrlighttt @cherrypieyourface @blossoming-hotch @freythecrazyfae @sweetenerobert (shout out to robert for cheering me on while I wrote this with one hand and a dictionary in the other)

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pandapetals · 2 months ago

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Hi hi! What about old man!Logan thinking you’re too sweet for him and he’s too old for you but he can’t stay away from you. And you wouldn’t like it anyway, because he has everything you need and want.

AHHH i just wanna say I love your account and writing so much. Thank you for the request.

old man logan x fem!reader - drabble, flirting, teasing, slight angst, no y/n used, no reader description

“Sweetheart,” Logan drawled, his voice rough yet tinged with warmth as you shifted on his lap, teasing him with that playful gleam in your eye. His hands tightened instinctively on your hips, a steadying anchor against your mischief. “This is the last time. I promise.”

You tilted your head, a soft smirk tugging at your lips. “That’s what you said last time... and the time before that... and—”

“Alright, alright,” he interrupted, exhaling a gruff sigh that couldn’t hide the hint of amusement beneath it. “But I mean it this time. I’m too old for you. You deserve someone who can keep up.”

Before the words could sink in and twist your heart, you reached up, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, moving slowly over the weathered scars that mapped his face. Each one told a story—of fights fought, losses endured, and battles survived. Some were deep, others faint, but all of them were unmistakably his.

“Do you think I could ever stay away from you?” you murmured, your voice soft as your touch lingered, your thumb brushing the roughness of his cheek. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Logan. You need me, and we both know it.”

Your words made him pause, his chest rising and falling with a slow, steady breath as he studied you.

“You’re too good for this life,” he finally said, his tone quieter, almost pained. “Too good for me.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “That’s not your call to make,” you said, your voice firm but laced with tenderness. “I’ve made my choice, Logan. It’s you.”

His hands loosened on your hips, his thumbs brushing lightly against your sides as his gaze softened. “You don’t make things easy, do ya?” he muttered, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Since when do you like easy?”

A rough chuckle escaped him, and for a moment, the weight he carried seemed to lift just a little. “Guess I don’t.”

He leaned forward then, his forehead resting gently against yours, the closeness grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “You really aren’t gonna give up on me, are ya?”

“Not a chance,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair, gently tilting his head back until his hazel eyes met yours. “Now,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye as you leaned in close, “where were we…”

Before he could answer, your lips met his in a kiss, slow and deliberate laced with mischief. He sighed into the kiss, his hands sliding up your back to pull you closer, his rough touch sending a shiver throughout your body.

“Oh, I was teasing you,” you murmured against his lips, your smirk evident in your voice as you shifted in his lap, your hips moving just enough to draw a groan from deep in his chest.

“Darlin’,” Logan growled softly, his grip tightening on your waist as his eyes darkened, warning and want mingling in his gaze. “You’re playin’ with fire.”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening as you trailed your fingers down the line of his jaw. “Good thing I’m not afraid of getting burned.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #x men logan #logan howlett x you #x men wolverine #logan x reader #james logan howlett #hugh jackman #marvel #fluff #old man logan #angst #logan howlett imagine #james howlett #logan wolverine #logan howlett smut #logan xmen #the wolverine

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

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Hello! I love all of your stories! Always got me giggling and kicking my feet.

I was wondering if you would be interested in poly!marauders and massages? Or Sirius and massages. I’ve recently been doing a lot of leg exercises and now I just have moments were walking hurts and I wouldn’t mind a good massage.

Have a wonderful day!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a wonderful day too!

cw: implicit nsfw stuff, but really no description or anything

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 457 words

“Sirius.” You try to make your tone stern, but it’s very clearly teetering on the edge of a giggle. “Can you stay on task, please?”

“Can you trust that I know what I’m doing?” The eye roll is evident in your boyfriend’s voice. “The internet said to get you warmed up first.”

“I’m fairly sure they meant my legs.”

“Fine, fine.” He stops groping your ass, moving his hands down to press on the backs of your legs. Your aching muscles stiffen at the contact, and Sirius hisses through his teeth. “Shit, does that hurt already?”

“No,” you say, voice tight. “Sorry, no, they’re just tense.”

“I can tell.” Sirius starts rubbing up and down your thighs, softer now. His voice becomes tender. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay angel?”

You hum and do your best to relax, closing your eyes as his fingers slowly spread out and start applying more pressure. At the first firm push of Sirius’ hands up the length of your thighs, you sigh.

A chuckle. “That working for you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shameless.

Sirius doesn’t double down on the teasing like you expect. Rather, he repeats the same motion again, humming satisfiedly when it works another sigh from you.

“I don’t know how I feel about this gym business,” he muses. “Seems to be causing a lot of problems.”

“It’s part of the process,” you say.

“Yeah, yeah, no pain no gain. You’re starting to sound like James.” He finds a tight spot, pressing his fingers carefully into the muscles. You let out a stringy little whimper. “All I know is my girl goes to the gym, and she comes back hardly able to walk. I’m not feeling particularly favorable towards the place.” He presses into a funny bundle of tension, and the noise that leaves you is borderline pornographic. You hide your face in your arms, mortified.

“Okay,” Sirius says, and now amusement permeates his tone, “I get that you’re enjoying this, darling, but if you’re going to make sounds like that you can’t be upset when I get distracted.”

“Sorry.” Your cheek is hot where it squishes against your forearm.

Your boyfriend chuckles darkly. “I’ll allow it. But after I’m done, I’m expecting a similar treatment as payment.”

“Like what?”

“Kisses. Many of them.” He splays his hands over the skin of your thighs, working his way towards the sides. “And the best hug you’ve given in your life.”

You hum. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to move after you’re done,” you admit. “But if you lay down on top of me, I can promise to do my best.”

Another quiet laugh, and Sirius presses his lips gently to the small of your back. “That’ll do.”

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azen13 · 7 months ago

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Looking at the items the Starlight Pawnshop has to offer... I'd like to purchase the < Avian Necklace >, please. Because a pretty little songbird deserves only the prettiest chain with which to tie it down.

Paradise Lost, Paradise Found

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Avian Necklace: A silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a bird mid-flight, imbued with a strange energy strong enough to shackle its wearer in paradise forever.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Description: After the Charmony Festival, Sunday returns to Penacony with the Stellaron Hunters, desperate to be reunited with his lover.

CW: Yandere Themes, Brainwashing, Mind Control, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Intense Distress, Manipulation

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It is a Monday night in Penacony, and all is well in the world.

Sure, your hotel room is cramped. The mattress is lumpy. The view is horrible. But it is real, and that is all that matters to you. After an eternity of dreams so sweet you felt like you were drowning in joy, you would rather be stuck in this dingy hotel room than some luxury VIP suite anyways. It’s comforting in all its imperfections.

That is, until you hear someone knock on your door.

The sound is rhythmic, three short, quick, evenly spaced knocks. It’s all you truly need to know who stands outside your door. Your heart already knows, beating so fast you feel like you could go into cardiac arrest.

But then you hear his voice. Smooth and rich like espresso, laced with a subtle sweetness. “Darling,” Sunday whispers quietly, “please, open the door.” It is both a request and a command, though it isn’t infused with Sunday’s usual pacifying power.

He liked doing this when you realized Ena’s dream was all an illusion; he would give you a chance to submit and acquiesce to his love and care, but when you inevitably refused, he had no qualms about worming his way into your mind. Once inside, he’d gently smash any shred of resistance you had, before pulling you into his arms and crooning his hymns, praising your holiness.

Isn’t this dream so blissful? he would ask you quietly, his hands ghosting over your skin, soft as feathers. I can give you anything you want. In Ena’s dream, it was true. Sunday could give you anything you wanted, even your freedom. But you knew it was an artificial imitation of independence; no matter where you traveled in the pseudo-universe, he was always there, always watching you. That was good enough for him: knowing you were safe, his hands cupped around your world like the way one would hold a bird.

The sound of Sunday’s voice breaks you out of your momentary reverie. “My dove, please, I don’t want our reunion to be bitter, but it seems like you aren’t giving me a choice.” You can feel the resonant harmonies in Sunday’s words grow louder, gripping your mind gently, giving you one more chance to open the door through your own free will.

You look around your room for any way out. On the opposite wall is a single window. You’re on the first floor. All you have to do is break through it and find someone. Frantically, you rush over, scrounging around for something to break the glass. You hear a loud sigh. “I wish you could just understand, my love,” Sunday laments.

The lock clicks.

Instantly, you are pounding and clawing on the glass like a rabid animal. In brief moments of clarity through your haze of desperation, you can feel your shoulder ache from ramming into the glass. Your throat feels raw. Someone is screaming. It’s you.

Sunday’s hands are just as excruciatingly tender as you remember, gliding over your arms and clasping your wrists in a tender but firm embrace. “Shh, it’s okay, my dear,” he whispers quietly. Beneath the insanity that clouds his own eyes, you can glimpse genuine concern in his gilded gaze. “Calm down, shh, yes, relax,” he coos.

All of the sudden, the world goes soft and blurry; every color in your hotel room, the pallid, washed-out grays and pale, muted blues seem to turn into a psychedelic kaleidoscope, luring you deeper and deeper into a state of tranquility.

With slow, delicate motions, Sunday lets go of one of your wrists, a placid smile gracing his face for a mere moment. Making sure that you won’t hurt yourself anymore than you already have, he reaches into one of his coat pockets, pulling out a small necklace imbued with the power of the Order.

“After the Charmony Festival, I was in such a deep state of despair. I thought I had lost everything. My dreams. My power. My home. My sister. My love.” His grasp on your wrist tightens, though you’re so lost in his spell that you can’t even feel the pain. “But now…now I have you again, my dearest,” he whispers hoarsely. Sunday can hardly believe you are real, with how constant misfortune has haunted his life. Time and time again, he has lost everything. Everyone. All his dreams and aspirations have shattered to pieces like stars crashing down to the earth from the heavens. But not you.

“Perhaps my plan was ill-timed,” Sunday muses as he loops the chain of the necklace around your neck. “But for right now, if I can’t give everyone paradise, then at least I can give it to you. And that will be more than enough,” he whispers, taking your appearance in, drinking it in like a man without water for forty days.

The effects of his tuning are fading, but the power of the necklace is taking root in your mind, warping and twisting it until you understand. Truly magnificent. He can see the clarity and consciousness in your eyes, but he can also see behind it, the compulsion to listen.

“Now, we must go,” Sunday says, his hands moving to clutch both of yours, pulling you up from where you’re sitting on the floor. “The rest of the Stellaron Hunters are likely getting anxious and ready to leave.” Still, he can’t help but steal one more moment alone. He presses a quick, light kiss to your lips, looking at your splendor one last time.

His sweet, foolish, caged bird.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere oneshot #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x you #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #the starlight pawnshop #thank you for requesting!

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dadsbongos · 7 months ago

Text

a nymphoid and the enabler

938 words / warnings - pinv unprotected sex, public sex, i assumed kirara was blonde before dying her hair, reader has a vagina but is otherwise non-descript

summary - you and your gf Kirara and public menaces

~~~

Kirara can’t take you anywhere.

Not on the train.

Her hands are firm on your hips, simultaneously crooking you back into her and trying to stabilize you in the rocking train cabin. Kirara’s flushed ruby face is burrowed into your hair, she prays onlookers assume you’re simply young, shy lovers new to PDA rather than an exhibitionist grinding against their girlfriend’s cock through her skirt.

And all because you batted your lashes and asked super sugar sweetly.

Not to visit friends.

Hikari was polite enough to let you and your girlfriend take his bed while he made a pad on the floor. Kirara’s almost ashamed to now be humping you in that bed while he snores away. But you kept groping and pleading and whining. You’d shucked off Kirara’s pajama pants and spread your legs to beg, “please, please, even just the tip, please!”.

Kirara was basically helpless to your soft, desperate voice.

So she conceded, nudging into your warm cunt and gasping into your neck -- just the tip burning way to three inches melting into four until finally, your hole had sucked in her entire cock.

Not shopping.

Your knees are cramped over Kirara’s shoulders with her leaning over you, heat and quiet huffs filling, floating into every corner of your changing room. A thin piece of plywood on squeaky, rusted hinges separates you from the surrounding stalls. Two women linger in the hall just outside your door, and if Kirara wasn’t stitching her teeth into the tender meat of your neck they might be enough to distract you from your high.

“Minx,” she curses under her breath, voice wispy, hot, and weak in your ear, “Minx, minx, minx…!”

Giggling into the flaring warmth of Kirara’s cheek, you whimper back, “You knew, ‘rara.”

Because, of course, Kirara should’ve known better than to believe you dragged her into a lingerie store stall only to try on sets.

And certainly not out to eat.

“God, God, God!” you’re just so loud, moans barely muffled by the meat of Kirara’s palm as you ride her cock.

“Shh!” Kirara hisses out, all venom lost as soon as it bubbles up when she tosses her head back. Spindles of black hair fluttering around her shoulders and bleached bangs curling into her lashes. Her rosy, swollen bottom lip is snatched between her teeth, “Gotta- hng- !” but she can’t stop whining either, “Gotta- gotta be quiet!”

Stubbornly, you shake your head, drool leaking into your girlfriend's hand. Your bouncing fills the entire tiled bathroom -- the sound of clapping thighs and pitchy moans and the rocking hinges of the closed toilet lid under Kirara’s ass. All masking the lewd, wet swirling of her inside your cunt.

Kirara plants her platform boots firmly against the floor, thrusting up into you to hammer harder against the sweet spot you were thrumming onto her cock. Because as much as she can huff and play the coy part of your little toy, Kirara revels in your debauched behavior as much as you do. She may not feel the scorch of arousal as often, nor as debilitating as you apparently do, but she does love feeling wanted.

And you want her like you need her. Like you'll die if she strays too far.

Your sweat and cum from previous rounds has already wet the lavender material of Kirara’s bell bottoms halfway down her thighs; and she has a sneaking feeling you won’t let up until the pants are totally soaked.

Kirara’s hands are tight around your love handles, dark marks sure to welt in the wake of her tugging your hips down into hers. The coil squeezing and squeezing in her gut becoming unbearable to put off.

She snaps into you hard, lifting entirely off the porcelain lid and biting back whimpers to take in the sound of your squeals and moans.

“Please, please, please, please…!” Kirara isn’t sure if she's praying for you to take her cum, or for none of the restaurant staff to come banging on the door.

“‘Rara!” you slur into the air, eyes fluttering up to stare at the ceiling. Your lashes wetly beat against your cheeks when Kirara squishes your pelvis against hers. You sigh at the feeling of her cock filling you, spurts of her cum shooting soon after.

Before the building sensation of (hopefully, Kirara thinks) your final orgasm can fade, she forcefully swishes your hips to grind against her. Your clit catches against her flaxen pubes.

“C’mon, you can give it to me,” Kirara hums, pressing her lips to yours to swallow down your rising mewls, “There you go,” she coos when you shudder and jerk in her arms, “Good baby. Good bunny, cummin’ for me. You love me so much, baby,” she places proper kisses to your lips once you’ve started coming down, “I love you, too. I love you so much, too.”

Her arms wind tight around you, hands massaging at the fat of your ass and hips.

Deep gasps fill the locked bathroom.

Until your cunt squeezes around Kirara’s softened cock, and you push your hips down onto hers.

“Still need me, baby?” she kisses your sweaty cheek, grinning when you nod dumbly, “Let’s at least move to the car, huh?”

You pout, but comply, speedily pulling your cotton panties snug over your cunt to keep Kirara’s cum from spilling out. She assists, supporting the weight your numb legs refuse to.

Because your need for Kirara is insatiable, but Kirara’s need for your attention is just as bad.

And this date night probably won’t be over until she’s nailed you over every available expanse, at your mere whim.

how is there only 1 ao3 fic for her i'm losing my mind

#kirara hoshi x reader #kirara x reader #jjk x reader #kirara hoshi smut #kirara smut

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padfootagain · 2 months ago

Text

Love in Verses (XXVII)

Chapter 27: ‘They loved music and swam in for a singer, who might stand at the end of summer’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This one is one of my favourites… I’m very proud of Andy in this one :)

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 5601

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The Singer’s House

When they said Carrickfergus I could hear the frosty echo of saltminers' picks. I imagined it, chambered and glinting, a township built of light.

What do we say any more to conjure the salt of our earth? So much comes and is gone that should be crystal and kept

and amicable weathers that bring up the grain of things, their tang of season and store, are all the packing we'll get.

So I say to myself Gweebarra and its music hits off the place like water hitting off granite. I see the glittering sound

framed in your window, knives and forks set on oilcloth, and the seals' heads, suddenly outlined, scanning everything.

People here used to believe that drowned souls lived in the seals. At spring tides they might change shape. They loved music and swam in for a singer

who might stand at the end of summer in the mouth of a whitewashed turf-shed, his shoulder to the jamb, his song a rowboat far out in evening.

When I came here first you were always singing, a hint of the clip of the pick in your winnowing climb and attack. Raise it again, man. We still believe what we hear.

Seamus Heaney, Field Work

Andrew was kissing you.

Fingers in your hair, he cupped your face in a tender yet firm hold. His lips were divine against yours, your head spinning with the feeling of his beard against your soft skin, feeling intoxicated by his scent…

Christ, he was so good at this…

His lips fell away from yours to trail along your jawline, down the curve of your neck, and you shamelessly moaned when he nipped at the soft skin there, leaving it reddened with his kisses. You unbuttoned his brown shirt, your favourite, the one that made him look so… divine…

“I want you so bad, Y/N.”

His voice was rough, so deep it made your entire being tremble.

“The things I want to do to you…”

You moaned at his words, kissing him again, pushing back his open shirt until you could peel it off him, run your fingers along his pale skin.

You fell onto your bed then, now both of you mostly naked. It was a blur, how the world kept on spinning, how time kept on ticking, how the last pieces of garments disappeared from your bodies. You didn’t care. All you cared about was the size of Andrew’s hands as they splayed over your breasts, across your ribcage, over your thighs, how he dug his fingers into your hips, the roughness of his calloused skin making you shiver. It felt like he was touching all your body at once.

His lips were trailing along your thighs now, and you moaned as he left a few marks here and there, as he rubbed his beard across your skin to make you squirm, which worked so easily every time.

“Y/N.”

The way he whispered your name before kissing your inner thigh again…

“Y/N…”

His voice a little louder as his breath fanned over the most intimate part of you.

“Y/N!”

You opened your eyes with a jolt, looking around, completely lost, not recognising where you were…

A car. You were inside a car. Trees and the countryside through the window…

“Y/N? You’re alright?”

You followed his familiar voice to look into the driver’s seat, next to you. Andrew was sitting there, his frame ridiculously big in the secluded space of the car. He was driving.

“You’re alright?” he asked again. “You were… kind of moaning in your sleep… I wasn’t sure whether you had a nightmare or something…”

Your eyes grew round, you averted your gaze back on the moving landscape on the other side of the window.

You had fallen asleep… you had fallen asleep while Andrew was driving you both to Bray, holy shit…

You had a wet dream about Andrew… when he was sitting next to you…

HOLY SHIT!

“Erm… can’t remember it but… I think it was a nightmare, yeah,” you nodded, trying to breathe despite the embarrassment that made your throat tighten.

“I didn’t mean to wake you at first, but I was a little worried… we’ll soon be there, anyway.”

“No, no, you were right to wake me. Thank you.”

You tried to find back your composure while Andrew hummed along to Bruce Springsteen.

Indeed, you had almost reached Bray, would soon be in Andrew’s hometown. You watched the sea stretching before you, the water darker than usual under the grey of the sky.

The town was ready to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day, the streets decorated and full of colours. Andrew would miss the parade to rehearse for his gig, but you would enjoy the festivities on your own for a couple of hours before joining him again before the show. You had offered to stay with him while he rehearsed, but Andrew had asked you not to. He didn’t want you to ‘hear him fail’ as he put it. You didn’t want to make him nervous or uncomfortable, so you didn’t insist.

You were to meet up with his friends still. You were relieved when Andrew told you he wouldn’t invite Sam today. You had asked him, knowing it would be a great opportunity for him to spend time with her, but he didn’t want to invite her. You weren’t sure why.

For now, it didn’t matter. You were getting nervous as Andrew drove through the streets of Bray, and your embarrassment over your dream wasn’t helping.

You hoped his friends would like you. You had heard a lot about Alex, just like you had mentioned Siobhán often. You knew the rest of the group had been formed during their college days, that some of his childhood friends would come to the gig too. You felt a little lonely, but you hoped you would hide it well. You knew no one, except for Andrew. You hoped no one would notice how nervous you…

“Y/N… relax, it’s alright.”

You looked up at him.

“What?”

“You’re nervous. But there’s no reason for you to feel that way. It’s gonna be alright. It’s just a few friends… and besides, you’re not the one who’s going to sing tonight!”

He winked at you, shot you a charming smile, and it made your heart skip a few beats.

You scoffed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“No?”

“Not at all!”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“You’re tough enough as you are, no need to pretend to be invulnerable.”

There was something so tender in his voice, so earnest, as he spoke those words, you felt your chest and throat tighten.

“Maybe I’m a little nervous…” you mumbled under your breath, making him laugh.

“You’re adorable,” he let out the words like a confession, making your body grow warm.

“It’s a lot of new people to meet,” you argued, and he nodded.

“You can leave whenever you want. Don’t feel pressured to stay.”

“We’ve come with your car.”

“I’ll pay for the cab.”

“That will cost you an arm and a leg…”

“Anything for you.”

The words were humorous, but his tone was too tender for you to laugh.

You remained silent while Andrew was waiting at a red light, asked the question that had been on your tongue for days once the car started moving again.

“Andy… why didn’t you invite Sam?”

You saw that his hold on the wheel tightened, regretted asking that stupid question. But he answered anyway.

“I didn’t want her to come.”

His answer was genuine, it took you aback.

“Why not?”

He shrugged.

“She doesn’t care about music. She came only once to one of my gigs, when we started dating, and I thought I wanted to make a living out of it. She was bored out of her mind. She never came again.”

You frowned hard.

“What about your poetry? Your readings?”

“She doesn’t like poetry. She never came.”

“But… but it’s you.”

You saw the way he struggled to swallow, the heavy bopping of his Adam’s Apple.

“I was never reason enough, Y/N.”

You frowned hard at that.

“What do you mean? You were her partner. She should have…”

But then you thought of Frank, and when was the last time he had shown interest in the things you loved most?

Andrew shrugged, his eyes fixed on the road.

“I don’t want her here today. I’m going to sing, and have a good time with my friends. I don’t want to think about her, I want… I want to move on, today.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“Do you think you can do that? Move on?”

Andrew gave you a sad smile.

“I think I can. I think it hurts, but I can.”

You saw him blushing this time, before he would speak again.

“Actually, I… I think I’m falling for someone else.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow. Your heart was racing, at first with excitement, and then with disappointment.

Of course, he couldn’t be talking about you… that was why he was confiding with a friend. It wasn’t you. And you didn’t care! You didn’t care at all, because you wanted Frank, you wanted the life you had with him, you wanted your life back. Andrew could fall in love with whoever he wanted and you didn’t care. You didn’t care if it wasn’t you, you didn’t care, your heart was already taken, you didn’t…

“I… I think it’s been going on for a while,” Andrew went on, clearly nervous now. “But I realised recently and… I don’t know… I want to wait, until I’m over Sam. But I don’t think I’m going to actively try to get her back anymore.”

“Oh… okay…”

“It’s alright, I’ll still help you, if you want. I’m not even sure what I’ll do…”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Y/N, could we… could we not talk about them today?”

You bit your lip, nodded in agreement.

“Yeah… sure… sorry for bringing her up.”

“It’s alright, I just… I don’t want to think about them today.”

You gave him a smile while he was pulling up in front of a small house in the suburbs.

“This is our stop. My friend Katie is hosting.”

You were nervous again as you walked towards the house. There were seven people inside waiting for Andrew and you, people you didn’t know, people Andrew loved deeply, people…

“HOZIER! YOU FUCKER!”

You looked up as a blond woman opened the door and rushed into Andrew’s arms for a hug.

“Hi! Katie!” he chuckled.

“You’re late! As per usual…”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“There was traffic!”

“Traffic, my arse!”

She turned to you with a bright smile.

“Oh, you must be Y/N!”

“Yes, I am. That’s very nice to meet you.”

“Come on in! There are beers in the fridge!”

You grinned at her, followed Andrew inside. You were introduced to everyone, greeted with welcoming smiles. Alex gave you a hug, which you reciprocated with a chuckle.

“I feel like I know you already, given the amount of time Andy spends rambling about how wonderful you are.”

“Alex…” Andrew hissed, nudging him in the ribs, but you laughed.

“He rambles about you a lot too,” you answered, and Alex heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know, but I’ve already told him, he needs to move on. He’s just a friend.”

“You’re breaking my heart, mate…” Andrew dramatically put his hand on his chest for good measure, making all of you laugh.

“Y/N, are you staying for the rehearsal?” asked Katie.

“Erm… no, I think I’ll head out and enjoy the city.”

“Oh! We’ll come with you! Let’s split. Musicians here, and the rest of us out there enjoying the festivities and getting pre-drunk.”

You laughed at that, but nodded at the invitation. You stayed in the house for a little while, people merely chatting. And then the four musicians had to get to work, and you left with the rest of the group.

You had barely walked out of the house that Katie was beaming at you.

“It’s great that you could come Y/N! It’s nice to know that Andy is moving on, that he’s got someone he can trust up there, in Dublin.”

You smiled.

“Yeah, we’re good friends now.”

She tilted her head.

“Just that?”

You blinked, surprised.

“Erm… yeah… we’re friends.”

“Oh, I thought you were together.”

“No! No, we’re not.”

“Oh, sorry then! It’s just… Andy was so excited about you coming, and he’s been rambling non-stop about you and… Just… in there, he seemed so happy with you. I thought you were more than friends. But sorry if I got it wrong.”

You gave her a reassuring smile, tried to hide how your heart was pounding.

And yet he was falling for someone else… right?

You watched the parade with Katie, Maggie, Seamus and Sheila. Or rather, you used the parade as décor while you caught up on a lot of gossip from their friend group.

Sheila was married to Rory, the drummer. Katie was a childhood friend of Andrew’s. They had shared one kiss when they were teenagers and promised each other never to do something as disgusting ever again. Then there was Alex and Sebastian, who had met Andrew while in college, both of them musicians. Seamus and his wife Maggie had been Andrew’s friends for almost two decades. There were talks of a baby, Andrew would be the godfather, without a doubt.

You found the group welcoming, and a lot of fun to be around. They all seemed nice, all were kind to you. It was a little strange how they seemed so eager to know more about you, to easily speak of Andrew and you as if there was more than friendship between the two of you. You brushed that detail away. Your head must have been playing tricks on you, it was nothing serious. You had made it clear that Andrew and you were just friends, and you had no doubt that he had never lied about that to his friends either.

You were on your way back to Katie’s house, choosing to walk there instead of taking the bus. It was easier, it let you enjoy the celebration throughout the city a little longer. Besides, the weather was quite nice today. Better enjoy it while it lasted.

“So… you’ve met Samantha, huh?” Katie asked, and it was obvious that she didn’t like Andrew’s ex very much.

“Yeah, I have.”

“How did you find her?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know… she’s not… bad or anything. Like, she’s pretty nice. But… I don’t know. Andrew told me she never came to his gigs or that she didn’t read his poetry. That doesn’t sit quite right with me.”

“We couldn’t agree more,” Sheila nodded. “There was nothing wrong with her but… she wasn’t right for Andy. And the way she kept on pushing him away…”

“He hasn’t told me much about that,” you confessed.

“He asked her several times to move in with him, she always refused, said that they were too young, that she needed to find herself first… It was bullshit. She was just… keeping him around but didn’t want for things to get too serious.”

You nodded. Thought about Frank, of the way he kept on delaying everything too. They had done the same, you could see it now.

Didn’t you deserve better than that, too? Couldn’t you have better?

“I’m really glad you’re coming tonight,” Katie gave you a warm smile. “We all are.”

“I’m glad to be here. I’m glad he asked me to come.”

“Hozier’s voice is… unmatched, really,” Katie nodded. “And he’s so good on stage. He would have been a brilliant musician, if he didn’t like poetry so fucking much, and if… if things had been easier at the time.”

“Hmm… He told me about his family.”

“Yeah, it was rough. Again. But they came through. I know that Sam used to think he had wasted his chance, his life, because he didn’t take a record deal at the time. But it was bullshit through and through.”

“The pop thing?” you asked, and Katie nodded.

“The songs were just… pop hits, really. Or written to be pop hits. And Andy didn’t want that. He deserved better than that. He was right to say no. And then he chose not to pursue music further, and I think he was right. At the time, it was what he needed. I will never forgive Sam for making him feel like he wasted his chance.”

“He loves it though… Trinity, I mean,” you told her. “It’s obvious. He’s an amazing teacher. And a brilliant academic.”

“I heard he’s popular there,” Sheila nodded.

You laughed.

“All the students love him. His lessons are always full. I get why, he’s good at it.”

“And he’s hot,” Katie added, making all of you laugh. “If I didn’t prefer women, and had never seen him so trollied he puked on my shoes… I might even agree.”

“He threw up on you?” you asked while laughing.

“Ooooh! I need to tell you all about that!”

The weather was good enough for a barbecue, something simple and full of laughter. The gig was to begin at 9:30, and the pub was nearby. You decided to eat and celebrate Andrew’s birthday before the show. You were learning so many stories about Andrew, most of them being embarrassingly funny. He was blushing, but seemed content with the teasing camaraderie that had settled in Katie’s garden. Indeed, you had rarely seen him smiling so much.

It was finally time for the cake, and Alex carried it from the kitchen, candles glowing and ready to be extinguished with a wish. You were singing too loudly, not caring about neighbours complaining. The beer and the cheap wine that had been drunk throughout the evening were enough to make you tipsy and merry.

Andrew was grinning as he blew on the candles, and quickly scooped up a little bit of icing on his finger, mischief painted all over his features as he did so, making you all laugh.

God, he was so cute. Adorable. And so fucking hot…

You tried not to think about the dream you had earlier that day, about what it meant. You couldn’t want Andrew, of all people, it would make things so complicated in your life… and yet…

“Alright! Gifts!” exclaimed Maggie, and she immediately handed him a square box and put it in front of him on the table.

Andrew blushed, his smile growing more emotional.

“You didn’t have to…”

“It’s your birthday! Don’t start!” Seamus argued, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

You all brought out your gifts, and you felt so nervous when you put your own bundle in front of him. Meanwhile, he grinned.

“Thank you so much,” he mumbled, a smile shining through a thicker accent.

He opened the gifts one by one. Some were inner jokes between the group of friends, some were books, others music-related. He seemed happy with all of them. Katie made him wear a ridiculous colourful birthday hat, and he didn’t complain, merely giggled like a little boy. Then came your gifts, and you were so nervous and embarrassed at the thought that he might not like them, that it was silly…

He frowned a little as he noticed that there were several items in your bundle.

“You didn’t have to buy me anything…” he complained, but tore off the paper anyway.

First, there was a set of whiteboard markers, as he always lost his at work and constantly borrowed yours five minutes before his lectures. He laughed at that, rolled his eyes as you called him a thief, but couldn’t deny the truth.

He picked up the notebook you had chosen next, a leathered cover with a Seamus Heaney quote traced in golden letters.

Noli Timere

He looked up at you with surprise, but you merely smiled. He opened it to take a look at the pages, read the note you had written there.

For the poems I hope to hear one day.

He was blinking tears away as he put the notebook down, he didn’t say anything, and you could tell that it was because he wasn’t certain he could summon his voice. There were two books as well, one of your recommendations for him, and a special edition of a collection of Irish poetry. He let his fingers run across the beautiful covers, traced the letters before looking up at you. There were so many emotions in his smile.

“Thank you,” he let out in a breath.

“Happy birthday, Andy.”

You smiled at each other, and then Katie brought a knife for the cake. You saw how he carefully placed your gifts down, how his eyes lingered on them.

After the cake was eaten, it was already time to leave for the pub. You helped Andrew carry his presents to his car and were alone with him for a moment. Once all his gifts were safely placed in his trunk, you were about to walk back to the house, when Andrew called you back.

He stared at you for a moment, as if he were looking for the right words to say.

“I just… I just wanted to thank you. For your presents.”

You gave him a bright smile.

“It’s nothing, Andy.”

His expression softened, but there was something a little sad in his gaze as well, a longing he couldn’t refrain.

“It isn’t nothing. These… These were very special. Thank you.”

“I simply wanted to finally keep my markers.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t talking about the markers, although that was funny. I didn’t even know those notebooks existed…”

“Oh, I ordered it. Like… I chose the quote to add on the cover. I thought… I thought it was fitting. I hoped it would help you write.”

You saw his eyes glistening, noticed the tears that gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“That’s really sweet. Thanks,” he spoke with such a soft, loving voice, you could feel your heart melt. “And the books… that’s really fucking perfect. Thank you.”

You grinned, feeling relieved that he liked your gifts. You weren’t expecting him to move closer though, it took you a couple of seconds to reciprocate his hug when he wrapped his arms around you.

You tried hard not to be overwhelmed by his scent, something woody and earthy that fitted him perfectly; by his warmth; by the feeling of his arms around you and his hands splayed over your shoulder blade and your back. They felt so big on your body, and you couldn’t help but feel safe under their touch…

“Thank you. For everything,” he whispered into your ear, his deep, low voice making your heart miss a few beats. “For coming today, for being here, for… everything.”

You tightened your hold on him.

“Thank you, Andy.”

You held onto each other for a long while, unaware of his friends seeing you and deciding not to interrupt whatever was going on. When he broke your embrace, Andrew leaned down to kiss your cheek, his touch feathery across your skin.

You hoped he didn’t notice how you couldn’t breathe…

The pub held a larger crowd than what you had expected. It had a decent acoustic, Katie told you, and some nice whiskey. You were high on laughter and the rest of the wine from dinner though; you decided not to drink alcohol for the rest of the night. You wanted to enjoy Andrew’s performance, and you needed your head to be clear for that. You had only a vague idea of what would be sung tonight. Some traditional songs at first, Sheila had mentioned The Humours of Whiskey and The Parting Glass. Then there would be covers of jazz, blues and rock songs.

You were so excited about this, you were buzzing with energy, your legs slightly shaking.

And then it was showtime.

They all walked on the small stage, the crowd gathered in the pub cheering loudly. Andrew was so tall on that tiny space, although Alex kind of balanced his friend’s impressive height with his own. Andrew greeted the crowd, and you were surprised to find that he didn’t seem so shy on stage, compared to how he usually was. He picked up a guitar, and the show began.

And God, what a show it was.

They were good. Like… actually good. And Andrew’s voice was so deep and powerful, he had something magnetic about him while he was on that stage. You understood now why everyone kept on saying that if he didn’t make it as a professional it was not by lack of talent, but by choice. He was truly impressive. You could only stare at him, the world forgotten except for him. His long hair flowing as he moved around the stage, the kicking of his feet with the rhythm of the song, the three undone buttons of his white shirt, the way he stared at you sometimes, glance darkened compared to its usual softness. And then he threw his head back as he played electric guitar, revealing the ivory column of his neck and damn…

… you had not been so turned on in years.

You were struggling to breathe as you watched him, as you sang along, as you danced with the crowd. When Andrew stared directly into your eyes as he sang in a growl, you were certain that your legs would give way from under you.

There was no denying possible left, there was no way you could try to fool yourself into thinking about Frank when Andrew was on stage singing like that and looking like that…

And then the tone shifted, the next song was quieter, a folk song for which he played acoustic guitar while he sang with so much emotion you started to actually cry…

Christ, you liked him. You liked him. Perhaps… perhaps even a little more than liked…

Andrew was beyond tipsy at that stage but he was allowed to drink without caution tonight, it was his birthday after all. And the gig was brilliant, he and his friends had been so good, the crowd was full of energy, he was high on adrenaline. And you… God, you were a ray of sunshine, now more than ever. Beautiful, radiant, and you fitted so well in his group of friends, and your gifts were so thoughtful, you were so funny like this, tipsy and about to fall into proper drunk, and you were just… you were…

“Andy, next time you and your friends have a gig, you need to tell me!” you ordered, looking serious despite how your words were a little slurred. “This was amazing! You were amazing!”

He blushed, but the liquor he had been drinking helped him accept the compliments.

“Thanks,” he gave you a smug smile and a wink, almost certain to have heard your breath stagger as he did.

“Alex told me he’ll have a gig in Dublin next month. We’re going!”

Andrew laughed, raised a surprised eyebrow.

“’We’?”

“Me, you… Katie and Rory are coming too…”

“I didn’t even know he had a gig yet… You signed me up?”

“You were already signed up, Alex said you always come. He looked so disappointed not to be able to come to your reading session for your poems.”

“Yeah, he’s all the way to Glasgow at the time. That’s alright, he’s seen plenty of those.”

You nodded brought your glass to your lips and only then noticed that it was empty.

“Oh! I need a refill! Want another beer?”

Andrew finished his glass in one large gulp, then nodded.

“Thanks.”

You giggled, leaned closer to confess something, and Andrew bent slightly as well, curious to know what you were up to.

“Can I make a confession?”

“’Course.”

“You were really hot out there.”

He raised an eyebrow, hiding badly the way his heart stumbled in his chest, the way he struggled to breathe…

He tried to control how his body reacted to this statement, he was in the middle of a busy pub after all, but it was difficult to do so…

“Really?” he asked, trying to sound smug and cool, when he was effectively struggling against his urge to simply smash his lips into yours and kiss you until none of you could breathe, and you could go to his car and be alone there…

You nodded.

“Not too bad, Andy. Not too bad.”

You gave him a flirtatious smile, before pulling away and heading straight to the bar.

Bloody hell…

He took a couple of deep breaths, tried to gather his wits.

You were just letting loose because you were drunk, this was nothing. He couldn’t let a two-minutes long flirt get to his head…

As a cold shower, his phone buzzed in his pocket and when he looked at the screen, the pixelated name of Sam’s was shining brightly in the dim light of the pub.

He hesitated to pick up, searched for you again. There were lots of people at the bar ordering drinks, you were patiently waiting for your turn.

He heaved a sigh, picked up the call.

“Sam? Everything alright?”

“Hi, Andy! Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” he nodded, looking down at the tip of his white converse shoes.

“How are you doing? Celebrating?”

“Hmm… yeah, I’m out with the band, we had a gig tonight in Bray.”

“Awesome! Sounds fun!”

“Yeah, ‘s fun.”

“So… you played tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah… we had a full house. It was grand. Really grand, like… yeah…”

Sam giggled on the phone.

“You’ll need some water in the morning, you seem to be heavily celebrating.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to have the whole gang together, you know?”

“Be careful when you head home, okay? You’re staying in Bray for the night, right?”

“’Course, at Katie’s.”

“Good. That’s good. Be careful. Have fun, but be careful.”

“Sure will.”

This was such a normal exchange, why was he surprised by it? They used to have these kind of phone calls, back in college… why did he feel like she was holding back?

“By the way, while I have you… I wanted to ask you, for the wedding…”

Ha, there it was. What he had been expecting.

“Frank and I need to talk to you about the songs you’re gonna play at the wedding. We’ve made a little list, we need to see with you if it’s all okay.”

Play? The wedding?

God, he had forgotten about that… early on, right after the announcement, she had asked him to sing. He had completely forgotten about that.

And it hit him in the face then, how ridiculous that was. She had broken up with him to marry another guy, she had never come to his gigs, and she wanted him to sing at her wedding now?

But what did Andrew want? None of that… he didn’t want any of that…

“Look, Sam, I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“What? I’m sorry, the noises of the pub are very loud, I didn’t get that.”

Andrew didn’t want to raise his voice. He checked on you, but you were still waiting to reach the bar and order drinks. He made a bee line towards the exit.

The air was cold outside, the little alley at the back of the pub narrow and badly lit by a single, tired lamppost. A couple was kissing against the wall a few meters away. The alley stank, a mixture of cheap beer, urine and cigarettes, but Andrew didn’t pay much attention to it.

“I was saying… like… I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for me to sing at your wedding, Sam.”

“What? You said you’d do it!”

“Yeah… but… honestly, it doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Why not? You said you would! I want you there!”

“Do you?”

“What?”

He didn’t want to get angry. This evening was perfect, this day was perfect…

He didn’t back down, though. He was too drunk to be polite or cautious, to mind whether his words could be hurtful or not. He clenched his jaw, spoke his mind.

“Sam, you never came to my gigs, to my poetry readings, to anything that had to deal with my artistic endeavours… and now that you need a musician you want me to sing? That doesn’t sound fair. If you weren’t interested in hearing me sing for the past seven years, then you won’t be interested in hearing me sing at your wedding either.”

“I… I’ve always thought you had talent. It’s not my fault you didn’t pursue music…”

“It’s not what I’m saying. I still sang at gigs regularly after taking this decision. You didn’t come. You never came.”

“If it bothered you, why didn’t you tell me?”

Andrew’s eyes drifted back to the black door he had just crossed, thought of you and his friends all gathered in the bar, a group that loved him and supported him throughout everything…

He deserved better than Sam. He deserved so much better than her. And he had better. He had his friends, his parents…

God, perhaps, one day, he would have you…

“I shouldn’t have had to tell my long-time partner that it hurt me that she didn’t care about the things I love. I shouldn’t have had to tell you to come, Sam. You should have wanted to come. You should have loved me better. Get someone else for your wedding, I’m not singing.”

Before she could reply, Andrew had hung up, turned off his phone so he wouldn’t be bothered by it again, and then he walked back into the pub.

You were standing where Andrew was a minute ago, two beers in your hands, looking around in search for him, a puzzled frown on your brow. You grinned when you spotted him.

“I thought you were gone,” you pouted, handing him his new drink.

“’Course not. Just went to the bathroom.”

You nodded.

“Rory and Alex are challenging us at darts. Come kick their arses with me!”

Andrew laughed at that.

“Oh, hell yeah! Come on! Let’s get these losers begging for mercy!”

You gave him a toothy, excited grin.

“I’m so happy you invited me, Andy!”

His heart melted, there was so much love for you there…

And he knew he shouldn’t have used that pet name, it wasn’t reasonable to yield into that kind of intimacy when you weren’t his. You weren’t his… even if he was already yours…

Still, it was his birthday, and you were so beautiful, so kind, and there was so much love for you there, in his heart, that he yielded and said it anyway.

“I’m glad you came, love. I’m really grateful you came.”

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier series #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #fanfiction #fanfic #au #series #writing

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lovelyunholyc · 2 years ago

Text

starving, darling

!!nsfw, minors and blank/ageless blogs dni - will be blocked :)!!

fem!reader, names (sweetheart, baby, darling, my love, reader calls him good boy). praise, spitting, oral (f! receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex. gratuitous descriptions of making out...bc who doesn't want to eat choso whole.... ',:|

you have no measure of the power you hold.

to bring a strong, towering curse to its knees, to make him feel something he had never felt before, had been missing for a millenia, an eternity, it seems, sometimes. choso himself cannot fathom the power you hold over him, cannot seem to comprehend why he so willingly lays himself at your feet - you, a delightful little beauty, a simple little human.

choso likes to be held like this, you had learned quickly. in quiet moments, in the safety of your bed, he buries his face in your bosom, arms secure around your waist, and you brush through the tangles of his hair with your fingers, soothing his scalp; just that morning you'd helped him brush them into those unruly buns he likes, that endear him to you so much. his weight across your bottom half is comforting, his warmth seeping into you.

he's still a little shy to ask for what he wants, but already you've learned him and can glean from the tired droop of his eyes (though they shine just a bit when he sees you), the pout pulling at his lips, and you open your arms and pull him into you.

he'd known he loved you when he watched you dress his brother's wounds that first time. your touches were tender, yet firm and sure, unwavering.

and then you had turned to him, that adorable pinch of concern to your brow, giving him a once over to ensure he was unharmed, before wrapping him in a bone crushing embrace. he'd laughed at the contrast of your gentleness with yuuji to the strength you displayed when you squeezed him.

you're full of contradictions: soft yet hard, tender yet tough, loving yet - when necessary, ruthless. he wants to unravel every single one of them until he has you figured out completely, and then memorize every aspect of you until he can think of nothing else.

he still hasn't had the courage to tell you.

when you hold him like this, so soft and warm and adoring, soothing the aches in his muscles, the cloudiness in his mind, he thinks he doesn't have to.

choso looks up just to be able to admire your beauty, cheek to your chest, ear pressed to the steady thrum of your heartbeat, and you pause stroking his hair to smile softly down at him. "hi, handsome," you purr.

heat rises to his face; he'll never get used to your praise, would rather sing yours instead. still, it makes his heart flutter every time, makes a giddy feeling take over his chest.

he hides his face back in the fabric of your shirt, suddenly shy. it was bad enough for his heart that he'd found you lounging in bed in nothing but one of his undershirts and your underwear, warm and smelling fresh and faintly like your favorite perfume.

you giggle, a sound so lovely that he swears he could listen to it forever, and revels in how it vibrates through your chest and seeps into him. "choso," you call so sweetly, he has no choice but to turn to you once more, cheeks burning. "can i kiss you, sweetheart?"

the nickname makes him blush even harder, though a zip of pleasure buzzes through his body at the confident way you address him, knowing he wouldn't ever refuse.

choso just nods, raises himself up gently to meet your lips.

though you're below him, you dominate the kiss. with a soft nibble to his bottom lip, he parts them easily, lets you slip your tongue into his mouth to coax his out for you to suck on. you lick at his lips, slow and purposeful with your movements, intent on getting him to moan sweetly against you (which he does quickly), on making the back of his neck prickle with pleasure, his fingers to twitch at your sides.

he loves the way you taste, how quickly you can make him fall apart on your tongue. the way you tug lightly at his hair to maneuver his head the way you like, to delve even deeper and take over his mouth. he loves letting you take control of him, his pleasure; you take such good care of him, let his thoughts and worries fade away and allow him to just (feel).

when you pull back, you leave him breathless, panting lightly but smiling because you continue to trail your lips up the line of his jaw, across his cheek and over the bridge of his nose to follow the inky black line bisecting his face. he closes his eyes and revels in your careful attention, your soothing touch. he hums in satisfaction, like a cat purring low and lovely, and the sound makes you giggle softly against his skin.

you touch your noses together and grin, kissing him once more before beckoning him to lie next to you. you sling your arm around his neck and lean over him, your faces still barely a breath apart, basking in the closeness, the comfort.

"how are you today, baby?" your words are simple, soft against his skin as they brush along the strong line of his jaw, but they make his chest warm.

before you, who else outside of his brothers had cared enough about him to know?

choso takes comfort in the warm weight of you settling across his chest, soft hands cradling his face, the pads of your thumbs smoothing absently over his cheeks, and the intensity of the day that had worn away at him so forcefully, instantly dulls and melts away beneath your touch. he relaxes completely in your hold, a bliss he'd never known and from now on would never let go to the best of his ability.

"fine," is all he says, though watching his expression change, knowing all his tells, you know he means much more. "i missed you." and that, you know he means tenfold by the emotion in his voice, the tender hold of his hands on your hips, long fingers drifting up along your lower back beneath the hem of your top, chasing the warmth of your skin.

for someone so skilled in blood manipulation, he never seemed to be warm enough without touching you.

the constant little reminders he gives you that in his overabundance of time on earth, you're something completely new to him, entirely different and extraordinary, somehow - it never fails to make your heart race.

"mm, missed you, too, my love."

you grin almost sheepishly when you say it, though he knows that doesn't take any sincerity away from the sentiment, especially when it brings heat to your cheeks, makes your smile so lovely.

my love. your love. his love.

choso can't help but smile with you, tilting up almost imperceptibly in search of your pretty lips again, yet you indulge him so easily, as if on instinct, as if you can read his mind as naturally as breathing.

you kiss him soft and slow, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him, as if you were memorizing his mouth all over again. the quiet moan he lets out, that you swallow up without hesitation, coaxing out more, more, more, makes you shiver inexplicably. you only let him go for mere fractions of a second to breathe, and neither of you could be happier to drown in each other, in the deep, passionate movements of your lips, your tongues, sharing breaths until you're lightheaded.

it's dizzying, how much he wants you. now, more than ever, but always. now, most, because it's the present - later he knows he'll want you even more than he ever has.

when you pull away a final time you're grinning devilishly, cheeks full with it and a shade darker with the rush of blood, lips wet and bitten an irresistible red that makes his mouth water even more. you've somehow migrated into his lap, legs on either side of him, fingers woven into his soft hair, his own hands caressing your back beneath your shirt and squeezing appreciatively at the thick of your thighs.

you see the lovesick look in his pretty eyes, clouded with desire and syrupy sweet, and can't help but chuckle quietly to yourself, though you must know you're not much better off.

"what do you want, darling?" you ask from mere centimeters away, tracing his plump bottom lip with your thumb, leaning in to kitten lick at it and swipe your combined spit away from the smooth skin.

choso nearly whimpers, his tongue darting out on instinct to follow the trace of where yours had been, his eyes glazing over even further. you know, of course you know.

you pull back a bit further, sitting up on his hips, hands propping you up on his chest. you had felt his cock stir a long, breathless moment before, and it ached now, hard and heavy against the heat of your center, confined beneath both your layers of clothing, twitching and throbbing for attention.

"you look like you want something, sweetheart," you purr, teasing, and the difference in your tone presently from when you'd first spoken, the dangerous gleam in your eyes now, is enough to make his head spin.

choso wets his lips again, desperation coating every syllable. "i want you."

you smile wide, satisfied, reward him with a slow roll of your hips that makes his jaw drop just a little. "yeah?"

"yes, i-" he cuts himself off with a gasp when you do it again, "-i want to make you feel good."

the sincerity, the wholeheartedness that floods his voice and the look in his eyes, how eager he always is to please you, always makes your heart melt. you pause, leaning back down to kiss him again, short and sweet, a small reminder of your overwhelming affection.

"you will, choso," you murmur against his lips, feel his whole body tremor with excitement and anticipation beneath you. "as long as it's you."

when you pull away again, he follows you, holds you close to his chest with big arms winding across your back, fingertips traversing over the smooth expanse of your skin. you smile when you capture his lips again, reluctant to part until he finally asks, "may i pleasure you?"

you can't help but giggle quietly at his politeness, charmed as you always are by how earnest he is in everything he does, a sort of genuine innocence in his actions and the way he carries himself that opposes his physicality and age. it never fails to send you reeling, heat blooming in your gut.

you nod easily, kiss him as if in answer. you nip at his perfectly petal-soft lips, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth before releasing it with a satisfied hum, grazing your teeth along the skin just to make him shiver. your fingers drift back up to his jaw, caress at the edges of it as you shift carefully up his body, straddling his stomach instead so you can stare down at him from a higher angle with a wanton smile.

"can i give you something first, darling?"

the hazy lust gleaming in his eyes intensifies as he blinks slowly, eyelids heavy under your own hungry gaze. he's breathing heavy from your kisses and the anticipation, chest heaving beneath one of your palms.

"please," choso breathes, ever so polite, the movement of his lips tickling the pad of your thumb when you trace over them again, hand gliding down to pinch his chin gently between your thumb and forefinger. there is no pressure behind your touch, merely a guide - support, because his body knows instinctively what to do, poised and ready.

your grin is nothing short of wicked. you can't help but lean down for a moment to peck at his lips again, before rising back up and pursing your own.

choso clutches at your waist with lightly trembling fingers, pretty lips parting so nicely as he opens up for you, tongue resting dutifully on his bottom lip. you splay your fingers out across his throat in a loose grip as he bares it just for you, thumb tracing over the edge of his jaw. the hand on his chest moves to tangle through his soft, soft hair, like silk between your fingers, and he looks up at you expectantly, eagerly, eyes shining with the thrill of it, the silent plea for you to take care of him.

it doesn't take you long to gather enough saliva. you watch him carefully, releasing it slowly to drip like syrup down onto his waiting tongue, stroking lovingly at his jaw with your thumb.

"good boy," you whisper sweetly when he swallows you down like it's nectar, and you feel his adam's apple bob beneath your palm. he shivers at the praise, tilts his chin up in that way again, hearts in his eyes and all across those pretty lips, slick with your spit and his own, searching for more of you, so you giggle softly and shift again to kiss him deeply.

when you render him breathless again, he speaks through soft pants. "i want you to-" -there's that hesitation, the pause before he can say what he truly wants, encouraged to continue when you peck lovingly at his pretty face- "-can you cum on my face?"

and who are you to deny him?

you nudge your nose against his fondly, already shoving at the flimsy waistband of your panties, giddy at his promise. "of course, darling," you breathe against his lips, swallow down his low groan as he helps you wriggle out of your underwear and slides his fingers up between your folds.

you're soaked - his long, elegant fingers glide easily along your slit, his thumb practically slipping over your clit and making you jolt.

choso doesn't bother much more after the initial touch - he's impatient, and feeling your sweetness on his hand isn't nearly enough to satiate him and only further delays what he really wants. you huff a little when he grabs at your thighs and hoists you up to nudge your pussy closer to his face, laughing softly at his eagerness and petting at his hair before positioning yourself properly, his head below you and between your knees.

before you can ask if he's even ready, choso pulls you down, kissing at the crease between your inner thigh before diving into your sweet, dripping cunt.

he groans appreciatively, deep and guttural, after giving your slit one long, slow lick, from your hole to your clit, punctuating it with a swirl of the tip of his tongue at the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it to flick at it until you're whining and trying to squirm out of his hold from the intensity. choso holds you firm with those strong fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, a smile playing at his lips when he finally releases your clit to lap up your sweet nectar instead.

he takes his time, savoring you, sliding his tongue smoothly along your folds and relishing how you mewl for him, at each gush of arousal he coaxes out only to lick up and moan with satisfaction. the vibrations of his deep voice against where you're most sensitive leaves you reeling, clutching at the headboard and his soft hair below you, back arching when he delves his tongue deeper, dipping into your entrance as far as he can go, his nose nudging at your clit in tandem.

"oh, fuck, baby," you whimper when he thrusts his tongue into you, shameless in his open enjoyment, whining along with you as you spout random praise, and bucking his hips into the air inadvertently.

he snakes one hand down to relieve some of the ache, squeezing desperately at his straining cock, your breathy cries of his name and the obscene, wet sound of him lapping up your slick like music to his ears. he could swear he sees heaven when you tug at his hair, when he withdraws his hand from himself in favor of urging you to start grinding on his face, two of his fingers slipping easily into your entrance.

your hips stutter first in uncertainty, concerned about him, like always, but choso doesn't loosen his hold, one hand clutching at your bottom and pushing you forward onto his flattened tongue. soon enough, with his fingers pumping in rhythm, it feels too good for you to resist, and you lose yourself on his hunger to taste you, to take from you until he's satisfied. your hips are moving wildly, chasing the sweet friction of his smooth tongue, the tip of his nose, the tremor his voice elicits when he moans so deeply, pleased at what he can do for you, how much pure pleasure only he can give you.

he knows your body so well, he can tell instantly when you're close - the choked up gasps, your muscles beginning to tense - he sucks ruefully on your clit once more, curling his fingers in just the right way to press into that sensitive spot inside you. he doesn't relent even when you throw your head back with a sharp cry of his name, hips shoving down on him and undoubtedly complicating his ability to breathe - no, instead, he doubles down, pulls his fingers back and forces his tongue as deep into your fluttering hole as he's able, just so he can feel your walls spasm around his tongue and greedily swallow down everything you gush out as you orgasm, completely lost in his brand of euphoria.

choso loses himself too, forgets about his own aching cock begging for release still confined in his pants - he could care less about breathing properly either - he licks into you with vigor, mesmerized by your sweet, pretty little pussy, until you're wriggling away from sensitivity, thighs quivering, weakly pushing at his fingers still gripping tightly at your cheeks (where he's surely left bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and the thought makes him shiver in delight).

when he finally lets you go, you collapse into bed beside him, rolling on your side to sling a shaking leg possessively over his waist, grinning gleefully up at him; the sight of his face, reddened with exertion, tainted all across with a mix of your arousal and his spit, hair mussed and sticking to his dampened forehead - gives you a whole new rush of giddiness. you're both breathing heavy, but despite that, you bring him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck. you run your tongue along the seam of his wet, red lips, shades darker and swollen with use, moaning softly at the taste of yourself, before licking into his mouth, sucking that capable, lovely tongue into your own mouth.

"oh, you're so sweet to me, aren't you?" you coo when you pull back, laughing breathlessly and swiping at the mess on his face with your fingers. "so lovely." you pepper kisses across his cheeks and nose as you go, nosing at his heated skin and delighting at his soft smile and the gooey look shining in his eyes, clearly lovestruck.

choso preens under your attention and praise, fingers twitching on the small of your back when you trail yours down the solid plane of his abdomen. "my love," you continue quietly with your nose pressed to his cheek, your tone so gentle yet palpable, your breath tickling his skin, making him shiver, "you're so good to me, so handsome too." he closes his eyes and can't help but whine helplessly when your hand slides under his waistband and fists his cock.

you thumb at the glistening head before pulling it out fully, glancing down just to catch a glimpse of how pretty you know it to be, thick and heavy in your hand, throbbing with need and already so wet with his excitement. you squeeze tighter at the base then, cooing at him once more when his whole body jolts at the sweet pressure. "oh, my poor baby." you kiss him again, pumping his cock simultaneously, eager to swallow up all the pleased little sounds he makes. "i'll take care of you, too, okay?"

choso just nods vigorously, eyebrows scrunching up adorably as you swirl your thumb over the tip of his cock again, flicking at the frenulum and toying with his sensitivity. he gasps out your name when you twist your hand on your downstroke, and you nip at his jaw playfully, so charmed by his reactions.

"you wanna cum inside me, baby?" you're back at his lips, biting lightly at them as you wait for him to compose himself enough to answer between heavy breaths, his fingers kneading restlessly at your waist. "i want you, choso, want you to fill me up nice and deep, like only you can."

he bucks up into your hand at that involuntarily, and it takes all his strength not to keep going lest he spill into your fist before he can even get between your legs again. "y-yes, please," he nearly whimpers, spurred on by another passionate kiss you grace him with, to switch positions and hover above you, on his knees between yours.

you pull at his top until he tugs it off and tosses it away carelessly, your fingers immediately tracing over the ridges of muscle along his chest, his abdomen, nearly purring with satisfaction when they flex and jump beneath your touch as he moves. you trace along his scars, too, etched into his otherwise smooth skin, cruel imperfections that you've already memorized, continuing your trail even when he bends to get closer to you, capturing your lips again like he can't bear to be even that far from you.

he moans so deliciously into your mouth when you find his dick again, wasting no time and pressing him against your pussy to coat him in your slick. he ruts against your folds, he can't help it, you're so warm and wet and heavenly, and he didn't know he could be so impatient.

"inside, baby," you murmur against his lips, breaking him out of his trance only to put him in another spell when you guide him to your entrance.

your back arches as he pushes into you, agonizingly slow despite how wet and wanting you already are, your muscles barely offering any sort of resistance. choso splits you open in every way, you think, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in just as deeply as he feeds into you, stretching you wide on the swollen crown of his dick and pinning you in place, hands fisting the sheets beside your head, his elbows locked behind your knees. you're taking him so nicely it's like your cunt is sucking him in, walls clutching so sweetly at his cock, as if you're made perfectly for him.

you sigh happily when he pulls back just a bit to thrust back in to the hilt, when he finally fills you so completely you think you can feel him lodged in your throat, throbbing with desire for you and hot, hot, hot. your eyelids droop with pleasure, watery with your blissful little smile as he pauses right there where you can feel the most of him, just to hold you even closer until you're sure there's not any possible space between you.

and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"feels good, love?" your words are heavy, thick with emotion and the overwhelming pleasure you're feeling, nearly slurred together with your adoration for him.

choso nods again, kisses at your cheeks and nose, nips at your pretty lips. when he looks at you again, you think his eyes hold stars in them for you, sparkling in his irises and falling across his cheeks. "s'good, darling, so good." he sounds just as intoxicated as you, raw and vulnerable, and you giggle softly and bring him back to your lips then, swiping tenderly at the skin just below those pretty eyes, at the tiny droplets of diamonds that escape them, at the stark black mark across his face.

"you're so beautiful, choso," you whisper, and his cheeks burn so furiously you wonder how your palms haven't been scorched by them, laughing quietly to yourself at the thought. it seems silly, but you can't be bothered to believe it is, not when he feels so good inside you, so snug and warm and lovely, and he's enveloping you so wholly in his embrace, and his heart beating erratically against your own feels all too much like you're home. safe, blissful.

choso wants to hold you forever. he wants to mold you to himself so that he never has to let you go, doesn't care in the least how irrational it may be, he loves how you feel, how you make him feel, just by being this close. he wants to tell you you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, he'll ever see all his life, and if he were to live another millennia, that your eyes may just hold all the answers in the universe - but he chokes on his words when your walls flutter around him, when you claw at his back and wordlessly urge him to start moving.

instead, he whispers, too, a broken, breathless confession, dripping with emotion, "i- i love you."

you gasp, whether from his revelation or the slow roll of his hips he isn't sure, but he is sure you heard him and know how sincere he is, breathing out a stuttered response just as ardently.

choso thinks he loses himself again, in the sweet clasp of your pussy, in your low moans and how your body moves for him, only pulling him closer, until he all but drowns in you, happily.

his pace is unhurried but undeniably deep, balls squishing up against your ass, savoring the tight heat of your walls around him, the sharp, fleeting pain of your nails raking across his back - he loves the sting, is too lost to wonder whether it seems wrong to. the wet sound as he pounds into you, so deep it takes your breath every time, nearly drives him into a frenzy, makes him want to make a bigger mess of the both of you.

he doesn't stray too long from your face, he loves your sultry, blissed out expressions just as much, loves every little reaction you give when he nips and pinches lightly at where he knows you're most sensitive, when the head of his cock hits undeniably deeper, teasing at that spot that drives you wild. he doesn't even pull back far enough to remove the shirt you're still wearing, instead rucking the hem up with rough fingers just so he can lick and suck at your nipples and make your back arch off the mattress.

"so pretty," he murmurs into your skin, almost to himself, but the deep cadence of his voice against you gives him away, makes you shiver. "my love, my love." he repeats it like he can't help himself, carves into you like he's trying to shape your perfect cunt to his dick, like he wants to forget how it feels so he can keep doing it for the first time again and again and again. you all but squeak when his pelvis grinds up against your swollen clit on every downstroke, breath caught in your throat when he licks at your pulse, squeezes at your thighs. he's everywhere, devouring every part of you, it seems, and you couldn't be happier to let him, to trust him so thoroughly with the softest, most vulnerable parts of you.

choso groans so deeply, it vibrates through your entire body, makes you shudder pleasantly. he finds your lips again, swivels his hips a little quicker, and you're panting lightly into his mouth, that little smirk shining through.

"close, baby?" you lick at his lips, fingers tugging at his hair. his pupils are blown charmingly wide, eyelids heavy as he only grunts in response, hips stuttering, cock twitching inside you - you laugh lightly, nibble at his bottom lip. "cum for me, handsome, i wanna feel you."

his next moan is so resonant, it shakes through him - and you by extension. he pulls out until only the flared head of his cock stays inside you, shifts a little higher on the bed, gravity stretching your legs even wider, hips lifting up along with his. when he plunges back in all the way in one smooth thrust, you nearly scream. the angle somehow makes him hit even deeper, the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix. you're mewling, grasping desperately at his shoulders, his biceps flexing with you trapped between them as he drives his cock deep into the sweet clutch of your cunt.

you're rendered speechless by the force of his thrusts, your whole body jostled by it, your insides undoubtedly battered.

the reminder of his silent strength makes you whine a little higher, like wordless praise spilling from your lips.

choso whispers out your name like it pains him, over and over as he chases his high, his dick spasming inside you within just a few more heavy, gut-wrenching thrusts. you reach up to weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair and tug, back arching, and he gasps, pretty eyes rolling back in his head. in one startlingly deep stroke he's spilling inside you, pumping you full just as he'd promised, wave after wave pulsing into you, the feel of it making your walls clench and squeeze in turn. you whine along with him, hold him as close to you as you can, choso clutching onto you just as desperately, almost as if he's melting into you, until you're molded into one.

he ruts into you lazily until it's too much for him, until he feels raw with oversensitivity. he comes down panting heavily into your sweat-dampened skin, just as you start to languidly chase the sweet grind of the base of his cock against your swollen clit.

you're still stroking his hair, praising him softly, "good boy, so sweet to me," trailing gentle fingers across the planes of his back, almost as if in apology for where your nails had dug bright red lines into.

choso shivers blissfully with the aftershocks of pleasure, with the soft tickle of your fingers on his skin, and he feels insatiable. he presses wet lips onto wherever he can reach, up the line of your neck, your jaw, your pretty lips, and pulls back just for a moment to look at you. just as dazed as he feels, warm and rosy with love, eyes droopy and shiny with it, fluttering along your lashes and in the playful little smile on your lips.

oh, how he adores you.

he kisses you again, licking at your lips and sucking on your pretty pink tongue before drifting back down the way he came, dropping kisses all along your body with reverence. he spends precious time at your chest, finally sliding your shirt off and kneading at your breasts and sucking and nipping at each pert nipple until he's satisfied, until your voice catches in your throat from moaning.

when he has to pull out to continue down further where he truly wants to be, he bites his lip in displeasure at the loss of your warmth. but he's immediately appeased by the view before him, by the lewdness of his seed spilling forth from your hole, the way it leaks out and catches on your folds, the inside of your thighs.

choso almost instinctively slides his fingers through your pussy, scooping up what he can and pushing it back into you, plunging his fingers into your entrance in a futile attempt to keep it in. your fingers tighten almost painfully where they're woven in his hair, and wordlessly, he continues his trail of kisses down your stomach. he's handsome even in the mess of you, in the wreck you've both left of each other, and especially when he's down between your legs.

he presses his lips against your hip, nips at the supple flesh of your thighs.

"darling?" you question breathlessly, but he's so thoroughly lost in you he barely registers it as he suddenly laps at your swollen clit, his fingers still plugged up in the sweet clutch of your cunt.

your reaction is immediate, back arching and voice breaking on his name as he kisses and licks at your sweet pussy. his tongue flicks at your sensitive bud, teeth grazing at the hood of it before his lips wrap around it and he sucks, and you nearly scream his name. your hips start to buck up against his face, and he holds you down with a strong hand splayed across your hip, the other still occupied, fingers now pumping into you.

choso takes his time. his lips are laden with worship, his tongue reverent, gratuitous. he eats you out like he'd rather be doing nothing else for the rest of his life (he thinks that's true), like nothing makes him happier than feeling your walls hug at him, sucking him in so sweetly, your sweet nectar leaking out just for him to swallow up and savor. he licks his release clean from you just to mess you up again, just to make you whine and cry from pure pleasure, tears dripping from your eyes because your body can barely comprehend so much of it.

he hardly realizes it when he's rutting against the bed, hard once more just from eating you out again, his fingers now replaced with his tongue because he wants to taste from you directly, wants to feel it on his tongue when you clench up and cum just because of him.

and he hardly realizes when he cums too, almost instantly after you do, until his vision goes white and he whines against your pussy just as your velvet walls pulse and squeeze around his tongue, your release spilling into his greedy mouth, lips smacking lewdly as he laps it all up through both of your orgasms, filling him just as he'd filled you with his seed.

he loves giving to you, receiving from you. he's so tired of taking, weary of seeing destruction at his own hands.

when he sees the wreck he's made of you, your entire body trembling with the force of what only he can give you, he thinks he's found the measure of his own power.

and when you still reach out for him, kissing him like nothing else matters to you, he knows you have much more of it than he.

1K notes · View notes

itwasthereaminuteago · 2 months ago

Text

|| Perfect Fit ||

Pairing: Huge monster boyfriend x regular female gf

Tags/warnings: choose your own monster! I've left it fairly open description-wise apart from him being generally huge and the massive cock... he can be whoever or whatever you like 😉

Minors DNI, size kink, fairly gentle monster!bf, until things get going? Pet names, praise, begging, massive cock kink, bucketloads of come, creampie, aftercare.

WC 2.2k of pwp.

Reblog if you enjoy! 🖤

I'm talking about that usual trope of your monster boyfriend having a monster-sized cock but that there's just absolutely no way he's gonna fit and it's making you upset.

Even though you both have a multitude of other ways to give each other pleasure, you're so very desperate to make this happen, you're having almost constant daydreams about how utterly full he'd make you feel, your mouth watering and body melting at the mere thought of what would happen when you… and if he... 🫠

"I want to try!" You whine, annoyed that you sound so pathetic but you're so frustrated by his doleful eyes and the way he's shaking his head at your insistent pleas.

"No, sweetheart, we've already been over this. I'd never want to risk hurting you."

"But y-you wouldn't, I know you wouldn't, I can do it, I want to do it. We can try, please just let me try!"

"Is it because I’m not doing enough to satisfy you?" He traces his claws lightly against the side of your face, bringing his huge hand to cup the side of your jaw. His brows are knit together with concern. "You've got to let me know-"

You shake your head emphatically, placing your hands on the vast expanse of his chest. "No you do, of course you do, but I really want this."

"Kitten, just... just let me use my mouth on you, you know I'll make it so good-"

He lets out the tiniest oof as you ineffectually push him back in mild annoyance.

"This is me letting you know my love, you're just not listening to me!" You sigh dramatically, throwing yourself face down on the huge bed you share.

You hear a resigned sigh behind you, and then the tender touch of his hand on the skin of your back, moving downward to give your ass a gentle squeeze. "Well, we're gonna need a lot of lube." He concedes.

You quickly spin around, a huge, bright smile on your face. "I know, I've already been shopping!"

Now that it's about to happen, you're shaking, laid on your back with your knees up and spread wide, sweat dripping from your shuddering body and soaking into the sheets as your handsome monster boyfriend brings you to your third orgasm using one of your biggest cock toys. You've worked your way up gradually but it's still nowhere near the same massive girth of his own. Even so he was extremely insistent on spending plenty of time on preparing you properly. The rippling waves of your latest high are slow to dissipate, but that doesn't mean you aren't anxious about what's to come next.

"M'gonna leave that in there just now, you okay with that sweet girl?" He pushes on the thick base of the soft silicone, making sure it stays seated in your pussy while you're still contracting around it.

"mmhm," you hum, opening your eyes to look up at him. "Feels real nice..."

"Looks real nice." He says, in that familiar low tone that so often marks his arousal.

Your gaze is automatically pulled down his body, and no matter how many times you've seen it before, you're always left mesmerized at the unsheathing of his cock. It fills up and firms steadily, blood pumping to make it heavy and thick, so painfully thick…

He must notice the slightly apprehensive look on your face. “You know we don't have to, you can tap out any time. You know I'd be more than happy just fucking those pretty tits of yours.”

He flashes a grin that breaks the worry, your light laugh turning into a gentle moan as he palms your bare breasts, pinching your nipple between his claws.

“I told you, I want to.” you pout, and he finally grunts in acknowledgement.

“Alright princess, I'll give you what you want.”

You had already made clear you wanted him over you despite his claims that you being on top would give you more control. There was no way you could keep holding yourself up on your thighs above him after the earth shattering orgasms you'd already had, so he'd promised to go as slow as you needed and you fully trusted that he would.

He slowly pulls the dildo out of you, a wet flood of your arousal following as you murmur softly at the sensation of suddenly feeling so empty.

You're looking up at him now as his massive bulk shadows you, opening yourself as much as you're able to let him fit between your thighs. The very tip of his bulbous cock slides slowly between your folds, deep reddish purple in colour, shining as he bathes it in your slick juices eagerly nudging at your entrance.

“You ready, pretty girl?”

Even though your pussy is so engorged and puffy after all the prior stimulation, you're still tiny next to his enormous and angry looking thick-ridged shaft. He’s almost having second thoughts about if he will fit at all, but turns his attention to the bud of your swollen glistening clit, spitting right on it. It's not like you really need it with the way you're soaked with your own arousal and the generous amount of lube he'd used earlier, but your reaction as he starts to rub slow sloppy circles around it makes him sure it was the right decision.

“M’ready- unnh!” You mewl as his hips push forward again and you feel him breaching you.

“That's good, you're doing so good...” he soothes. “just relax.”

You start to pant, moaning louder as he presses in further, you already feel stretched, so full up, you don't know how much more you could possibly take.

“Ohh- oh! Is there much more? It's so big!”

He's not even got past the thickest part of the head yet… but he's not gonna worry you with that.

“Just a little more, take a big deep breath for me sweetheart, you can do it.”

Your tight little cunt flutters so maddeningly around him as he starts to rub your clit faster and firmly. He listens to you breathe in, then, as you exhale, he punches forward, growling as the fat head of his cock finally pops inside you with an obscene squelch. You squeal, writhing uncontrollably beneath him, back bowed up from the bed as your body tries to accept the blunt intrusion. You've never felt so incredibly stuffed and overwhelmed, thinking you've really bitten off more than you can chew, panting so hard, trying your hardest to just relax because you know it'll make it easier but he's just too much, he's too big…

“There we go, that's it baby, just breathe. You're such a good girl, you know that?”

You have to force yourself to gulp in more air, blowing it back out in a slow shuddering breath. You nod even as you whine with the effort, your wide wet eyes blinking up at him in adoration.

“Okay, m’gonna give you a little more now. Nice and slow, hm?”

More?! There's more?? It can't be possible, it feels like he's reached right up inside to your navel already, like there's just not any space left for him to go. Your eyes are starting to sting from holding back tears, more of frustration than of pain. Your hands are clasping and gripping to hold onto the small part of his massive shoulders you're able to reach, and you're aware that you're whimpering constantly now.

You wanted this, you remind yourself, as he reaches for the large bottle of lube and drizzles a generous amount on to where his monster dick disappears into you.

He draws his hips back slightly and then gives another small thrust forward causing you to moan out his name long and loud. It's a lot, but as he gives your body some time to adjust it's also beginning to feel good, your walls clenching repeatedly around his girth.

“Mmn… y’like that, huh?” He husks close to your face. He holds himself so steady with his immense strength above you, it must be difficult for him to reign in his desire and enact such patience, that's he's holding back from just letting fully loose and fucking you hard and fast. The thought drives you wild. A squeak escapes as you feel him twitching inside.

“Sorry baby, can't help it when you're so tight and feel so good like this.”

He leans down towards your chest, eyes glinting and tongue emerging to lick around and over your pebbled nipples. You arch again, this time due to the fact your sensitivity has increased tenfold, the movement dragging his cock so much deeper within you, easily probing against the sweet spot that makes you lose your shit. He's still only halfway in, pushing the backs of your thighs back closer to the bed allowing him to squeeze another fat inch inside.

“Uhhh fu-ck!” your voice breaks as you think you just might explode. He tries another short thrust, more lube squishing out from your stretched hole as he nudges in even further, your nails digging deep into his skin as you whimper with increasing pleasure.

“That��s it princess, almost there…” he grunts through gritted teeth. “so perfect, doing so well.”

He starts slowly moving his hips back and forth, gradually working that massive dick in and out of you, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll back into your head. You feel the soft weight of his heavy balls against you each time he pounds into your weeping pussy, your mouth hanging open, every forward thrust punching loud desperate sounds from you.

“S-so goood!” You mewl up at him, and he smiles as he leans down to kiss you. As he licks into your mouth he reaches between your joined bodies, a gentle finger brushing over your slippery throbbing pearl yet again.

“Oh- ohhhh!”

He draws tight focussed circles as he fucks you, and before you can even warn him, you're coming hard, crying out as your poor stuffed cunt clenches over and over.

He doesn't stop. Just rolls you both over so you're sitting above him now, thighs spread so wide you think you'll break in two. You're surrendering as you tire, you want him to use you as his own personal little fucktoy.

As if reading your thoughts and feeling your body adapt he starts to fuck you faster, holding your hips, taking your weight in those big hands, bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your cream coats his length every time he withdraws, making slick wet sounds so loud yet you're not embarrassed by them, it only makes your next orgasm more intense, your come dripping down to his sac. Those huge balls bounce up against your ass as he keeps on going, drawing up and tightening as he gets close.

“Such a good girl, you can give me another one, can't you sweetheart? Yeah I know you can…”

Breathing is difficult, nevermind trying to talk, you're only capable of gasping and whining as he toys with your overstimulated clit. Could you even come again? You don't know, your body feels so wrung out, but the thought of being able to have him come inside you for the first time gives you the boost you need to carry on. You slide your hands from where they rest on his stomach up to your breasts, knowing how much he adores watching you play with them. You're clutching and pushing them up, teasing and pulling at your nipples as you moan, eyes locked with his. The way he's looking you can tell that he's almost there, even before you feel the first powerful throb of his cock.

“Fuck-…” his growl reverberates through every nerve of your body. “You ready, baby?”

Pleasepleaseplease you beg, and he hisses through sharply clenched teeth, spearing you on his giant shaft again and again, the thick, raised ridges of it stretching your cunt wide every time it forces its way inside your warmth.

Another twitching pulse within your tight walls has you wailing, the wave of feeling inside you crests and you fall forward, clinging on to him as it seems his cock is swelling even larger still.

Then it happens, your fifth orgasm rips through your entire body like a tsunami, your mouth opening to set free your little uh uh uhhs when you finally feel the hot rush of his seed as he unleashes with a magnificent roar.

It gushes inside forcefully, filling you up in thick spurts until it physically can't anymore. You obviously had experience of his ejaculation before, but this was different, his pulsing cock wasn't showing any signs of stopping, come leaking out in thick, viscous rivulets down your quivering inner thighs.

Instinct drives him to keep it deep inside you, pulling you close to lie flush against his body, hot grunts puffing against your neck as his hips snap up sharply, trying to push it all back inside. When he finally slows his movements and stops, his cock still throbs for a long time after. Mine, he purrs with a possessiveness that makes you feel so loved, snuggling you close and kissing the top of your head as you both wait for it to soften. When it eventually slips free you're on the verge of sleep, woken when you feel the flood of your mixed fluids trickle out of your sensitive core.

“Mm, I knew I could do it.” You murmur, nuzzling into his chest. You're very sore but satisfied, even a little bit proud of your achievement .

He grins, carefully scooping you up, carrying you to the shower where he is amazingly gentle and soft whilst cleaning you up. “You did, sweetheart, you were incredible. Never felt anything as good as when I'm with you.”

When you're done he kisses your sleepy face, on your forehead, your eyelids, and finally, a small kiss on your lips as he gets you warm, dry, and tucked into a cosy clean bed.

"My princess."

#monster!boyfriend x regular girlfriend #monster fucking #monster!bf x regular gf #monster smut #choose your own character #monster x fem!reader

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damned-punk · 8 months ago

Note

Can you do sth with getting a real good massage (don't mind with happy ending 😅) from Kid and Killer? 😍 These strong arms are made for this 💪💪

Stiff (Kidd x Reader x Killer)

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Content Warning: implication of sex ♡

Content Description: gn!reader is overworked but their partners decide they’re in need of some rest

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You’d been exhausted, completely void of motivation, and wanted nothing more than to take a well deserved nap, but your responsibilities aboard the Victoria Punk seemed to be never ending. You’d been pulled in every imaginable direction, providing some sort of aide for what felt like each one of your crewmates. You loved them dearly, but it could be a lot at times. To top it all off, you’d promised Kidd a shoulder massage as he’d mentioned that the scarring from the loss of his arm had been causing quite a bit of discomfort.

You trudged to the door of Kidd’s workshop, knocking a couple times before opening the door and telling him to meet you in his cabin. You sat against the headboard, flinching slightly as the worn muscles of your back constricted at the sudden change in posture. Kidd was rather observant, your pain not going unnoticed as he sat himself in front of you at an angle that allowed you full access to his left side. You lifted your hands to work, mindless tenderizing his injured muscles as you continued to ignore the aches within your own.

“You good?”, he asked, his tone low and much less brash than usual.

You hummed in response, an unsatisfactory answer as far as he was concerned but he chose to let it go for the time being. It wasn’t like you to be so quiet as the two of you typically bickered to show affection, your dejection gave way to the fact that something was wrong. He reveled in the comfort you afforded him while studying your face, admiring your features and thinking about what you weren’t telling him. Perhaps Killer would be able to work it out of you, he was typically better with emotions and had a better sense of the right things to say at the right times. As you leant forward to accommodate the height difference between the two of you, a muscle pulled just above your lumbar and left you gripping onto Kidd for support with glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry, Captain.”, you forced yourself to loosen your fingers and sit up, “I just need a second…”

“Lay down, (Y/N).”, he commanded, turning and using his hand to push you down.

“No, I want to-“, you tried to reason with him, feeling guilty for falling short on your promise while fighting against the searing sensation that was beginning to spread into your lower back.

“Lay down.”, he stood firm, “I’ll be right back and your ass better still be in this bed.”

You huffed as the door closed behind him, frustrated beyond capacity but admittedly grateful for the soft plush of the bed that cradled your aching body. After a few minutes, the sound of heavy boots outside the door replaced the quiet tranquility of the cabin. Kidd had apparently left to retrieve Killer who, alongside Kidd, kicked off his boots and shed his mask. You loved every moment you could admire his bare face, his eyes so soft and content as they danced over the sight of you.

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart?”, he asked quietly, easing his way into the empty space on your right side as Kidd reassumed his position on your left in tandem.

“I’m alright, just a little tired.”, you replied, not wanting to cause unnecessary worry or generate any additional stress.

“You couldn’t even sit up earlier.”, Kidd retorted while you pouted, “Roll over.”

You relented and flipped onto your tummy, giving in and finally resigning to let them take care of you. Killer made quick work of his hands, using his calloused fingers to apply delightful pressure on your restricted muscles. He kneaded your flesh carefully and drew little murmurs from your lips as particularly sensitive areas received some very overdue attention. Kidd kneaded the plush of your hip and thigh, pressing his thumb in an outward motion to work out each and every ripple he felt. The combination of their hands servicing you at the same time felt so good that it was dizzying. You let yourself fall into the intense waves of relief which allowed sleep to finally take hold, the lush pillow clutched in your arms only working to hasten your impending slumber.

You woke to find yourself planted snuggly on Kidd’s chest with his arm wrapped around you, his hand drawing mindless patterns on the soft skin at the small of your back. You tilted your head up to face him only to be met with a toothy grin smiling back at you. He leant down and pressed a kiss to your lips, littering your cheeks with several small pecks while you giggled.

“Hey, what about me?”, Killer asked from behind which caused you to giggle even more.

The dichotomy between their brutality toward the outside world held against their unwavering commitment to their loved ones always warmed your heart. Some would say you were in one of the most dangerous positions pressed between the Massacre Soldier and Captain Kidd, but they were just Kidd and Killer to you. Nothing more or less than two rough and rowdy partners who’d turned out to be the best lovers you could’ve ever imagined.

Not wanting Killer to have to wait any longer, you turned onto your back and scritched the blonde hairs of his chin as he brought his lips to meet your own. One of his hands trailed to rest on your lower tummy, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden shift in physical intimacy when he began to knead his fingers. Kidd’s eyes focused in on his hand, silently praying for it to sink lower in order to have you squirming beneath them. Killer’s thoughts seemed to be headed in the same direction, dancing his fingers just under the waistband of your bottoms while he watched your face for consent.

As Kidd began playing with the hem of your top, you realized that this was the beginning of a very long night that would likely leave you even more exhausted than the night before, but infinitely more satisfied.

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#kid pirates #one piece #anime #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #eustass kid #killer one piece #eustass kid x reader #captain kid x reader #massacre soldier killer

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spicyclover · 9 months ago

Text

Soft morning

Summary : Once again, we wake up in bed together. We're naked and snuggly, with brains that are still foggy and sleepy, but bodies that are ready to dance.

Request

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING : soft smut | praising | description

He kissed her gently, taking her mouth with spellbinding tenderness, tasting her sweetness. She whimpered. The vibration sizzles through him and stiffens Mick’s already erect cock. He presses his hardness against the firm, silky flesh of her bottom.

"Good morning, baby," she coos, putting her hand around his neck.

"Good morning.” Mick smiles and leans in to whisper in her ear, “I’m so hard for you.”

“And I’m wet for you.”

Her hair lies like a fan on the white pillowcase. Her breathing is slow and regular, the lateral profile of her breasts easily visible. Her nipples stiffen, magnifying the fullness of her ample curves. She is amazing. A lazy half-smile spread across her face. He traces with his fingers along her skin until his fingertips met a peaked nipple. She melted into him, pressing her warm, curvy ass against his hard-on. He grows harder. Mick press his cock against her bottom and kissed her, his tongue blazing a trail from her ear to her jaw, and finally to her hot lips.

"I love your lips on mine," He uttered his words between two tender kisses. This thought is more personal than he wants, but he can’t deny it.

She slides her hands along the muscles of his chest and their breathing develops rapidly and the pressure their tongues probe each other’s mouth. He grabs her lower lip between his teeth and she escapes a sweet moan. Pushing himself upright, he sweeps the blankets and draws a path between her chest and her hip. Then, Mick puts her on her back and presses his knees so that he can rub her clitoris on her panties, noting the increasing moisture of the fabric.

"I love mornings like this. I never want them to stop." She chuckles and bites her lips.

Blushed cheeks, and bright blue eyes, she watches him stoop to his full chest. His expression shows the raw and wild effect he has on her. She never hid it, never hid her fierce hunger for him. She is so open and needy and sexy as fuck. His chest tightens. He kisses her cheek to her jaw, licks her neck, and then lowers her scarlet and swollen breast. Her full breasts are plump with excitement, and her nipples stiffen into hard spikes. Mick devours her left nipple, sucking and sucking with need. When he bites the beaded tip, she inhales strongly, her fingers raking the skin of his back while he slips my hand into her panties.

She is completely soaked. And he needs to taste it.

He stoops down and grabs her ankles, pushing her legs up, reveling in her magnificent curves. He slips her panties half-thigh and looks at her. They closed their eyes and she smiled, that sensual smile as she let her knees fall closer to her body, exposing her most private and vulnerable part.

Perfectly styled, her pink folds shine under the soft sun that danced on her skin. Mick lifts her legs for better access and he kisses the back of the thighs. Her breath taken in anticipation of what would happen, and he slowed his descent, kissing and licking a trail along the back of his legs, a slow and deliberate torture. Finally, the need to taste her sweet flavor dominated him and he took a long, slow blow of her silky sex. As soon as his tongue meets the delicate skin of her clitoris, she gasps audibly. He slips his tongue along its smooth folds and her legs have separated in response.

"You taste like heaven." He said with a wet nose and swollen lips.

Her nectar is intoxicating and his raging cock is tense as he caresses her in long lazy strokes. She moans involuntarily and her chest rises and falls with irregular breaths. Mick reaches out his hand and rolls her tight nipple around his fingers, causing a panting moan. He looks at her face as he slips a finger into her, possessing it, then two fingers. Her lips parted, and her skin reddened with a mask of ecstasy.

Then Mick takes off her panties, slowly and surely, prolonging the sweet agony. He kisses her feet and when her panties fall on the floor, she spreads her legs, her sex quivering in anticipation. His mouth is on her the next moment and she moans, her knees falling even further. She squeezed the back of his head and forced his tongue to work until it was wet.

"More..." she moans between two breath.

He reaches down and caresses his cock, now wet with pre-um. As if she felt his urgency, she sits on the bed and pushes him on his back. His badass is heavy and thick against his belly, imploring her expert touch. She knows him like no other woman. She grabbed the base with her hand and looks so perfect wrapped around his thick root. She looked up at him, her lips parted, her mouth bending in the corner in a sneaky smile. Then she took a long blow from the crown.

The sensation explodes in him, radiating from his heart with this tongue stroke and he moans. Rejected, she took it in her hot and wet mouth. The pink lips covered his cock, his blue eyes pinned to hers she aspires, taking its length. Mick’s eyes widened when she reached the base, stunned that she could take everything. She pulls back with a firm suction and the air seems cold where her mouth has been. She pumps it and caresses his balls with her pretty hand. She licks the crown, her tongue swirls, slowly, quietly turning around and up and down, finally bringing it back into her mouth once more. Mick bends his back in feverish abandonment. His balls tighten as his cock throbs, desperately needing to sink into her, fill her, claim and own every inch of her.

"Stop, he commands, so close."

Mick gets up and pushes her unto her back, spreading her legs where he huddled at the entrance of her sex. She reaches out and grabs his cock, pumping it, sliding it against her smooth pussy. He must be inside her. Mick sinks his cock head into her pink opening and when he encounters resistance pushes further, finally breaking her tender flesh.

Her gentle moans inflame him more and the next moment he is completely buried in her, surrounded by her humid heat. Mick looks down, observing, mesmerized by the beauty of seeing his thick cock moving in and out, disappearing repeatedly in it. This is the ideal point of view to see her breasts bounce with each push, her clitoris engorged palpitating with excitement. The pleasure radiates throughout her body from the hot and tight flesh surrounding my cock.

He caresses her clitoris and using the pads of his fingers, traced the smooth opening of her slit. Then using only his middle finger, he sank into her and she trembles, her hips rising as he touches his burning core where his cock will soon follow. He fingers her with a deliberate and enticing touch as she squirms and gasps, her sex softening even more.

He rubs his head against her soft pink folds, up and down, against her clitoris. Mick repeats it several times until her whole body is a thin layer of sweat. She gasps and scratches the sheets.

"Oh, baby," she moans. "Please. I can’t wait."

Again, Mick shoves his cock into her with a weak grunt. This time, her flesh resisted only momentarily before giving way completely. He has buried himself to the hilt in her damp heat. Their flesh slips against each other, warm and smooth with sweat.

"Ooh!" She sighs when his cock reached that tender place deep inside.

"You are mine," the words come from his mouth in a guttural and wild voice.

He turns her on her stomach, pulls her hips up and he sinks into her from behind. Mick then watches as he removes his cock, the juice so thick and wet that fascinates him by the evidence of her intense excitement. Knowing how excited she is for him, she encourages him even more and he dives into her, voracious and greedy, filling her from root to tip.

He pushes his cock in and out, unable to stop himself from pushing her to the limit, taking as much as he can, as hard as he can. Her mouth is open and her breathing is fast, moans gushing from each push.

"Oh, my God," she whispered through raging breaths. "I’m so close."

The friction of his sex is accentuated by the inclination of her ass and when her hips begin to undulate, her core tightening, he knows that she is close to coming. He pounded her enraged cock into her faster and faster, grabbing her shoulders and neck to immobilize her, my hips twitching. She screams as the climax quivers through her body from head to toe.

Tension accumulates, the heart deeply coiled, excitement settles inside until finally, without warning, his climax loads and he loses all control.

“Ahh, fuck!” Mick curses. With a guttural moan his orgasm tore through him, and savagery took over. His hips jerks wildly as his cock exploded, and he spurts hot and hard inside her, angling her hips and sinking even deeper so his pulsing cock filled her with cum.

“Give it all to me baby,” she encourage as her pussy milked every last drop from him, his entire body quaking with bone-deep shudders.

Spent, Mick collapse onto her side, his body quivering in aftershocks, his mouth dry as he tries to catch his breath. She reached around and cupped his face, smiling her sexy, just-for-him smile.

Still buried deep inside his lover, he leans down to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you, Micky.”

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher smut #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut

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