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aerialmirrorss · 29 days ago

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𝐝 𝐚 𝐲 𝐥 𝐢 𝐠 𝐡 𝐭 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ nicholas a. chavez

playing: 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 by taylor swift 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! reader woke up late for work but nicholas, your boyfriend, wishes to stay in bed longer..

paring: nicholas chavez x fem!reader

warnings: lots of fluff , sexual content + unprotected sex! oral (f! receiving) , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 2,500

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

Soft sunlight filters through the thin slats of your bedroom window shades, casting patterns of light and shadow across the room. It’s not abrupt, but rather a slow increase in brightness that touches your closed eyelids, warming your skin and pulling you out of your dream. The room becomes bathed in a soft, golden glow, and as you blink awake, the light feels like a quiet reminder of the world waiting outside.

However, behind you with an arm draped around your waist and soft snores coming from his slightly parted lips laid your boyfriend, Nicholas, making you want to tell the world to fuck off, turn off the lights, and try again another day.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you rubbed your eyes and stretched your arms making a half-asleep Nicholas stir. You smile softly and turn to face him with his eyes still shut. You ran your fingers through his tousled hair, briefly wondering how bad your own must look, before softly whispering, “Good morning.”

He hums softly, wrapping his hand around your wrist as it rests in his hair and brings it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss to your pulse. In a raspy voice, he murmurs, “Good morning, baby.”

“How’d you sleep?” You ask, your voice still low, not wanting to disrupt the stillness of this peaceful moment. It’s only Nick’s second time spending the night in your New York City apartment, the first just two nights ago.

He exhales peacefully, drawing you closer until your legs are tangled with his. “Your bed feels like sleeping on a cloud,” he murmurs.

You giggle at the sudden movement, watching as Nick plays with your fingers. Then he looks up and asks, “What are your plans for today?”

You groan at the thought of returning to reality. “I have to be at work by 8:30. I’m presenting a pitch for a headline, so I should probably start getting ready since it’s—” You stop to glance at his watch as he gently strokes the back of your hand.

“8:29?! No, no, no—fuck!” You quickly untangle yourself from his arms and get up, Nick’s shirt skimming the tops of your bare thighs as you fumble to put on your slippers. Just as you’re about to rush out of the room, Nick grabs your wrist and pulls you back into bed.

Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress again, pinned beneath Nick’s steady gaze.

“I love that shirt on you,” he uttered softly.

“Nicholas c’mon.” You ignore his remark, wiggling beneath him trying to free yourself. He however, seemed to have taken that as a damn challenge.

A smirk tugs on his pink lips before he leans down to ghost his lips against yours, teasing. It was almost like a test to see if you were gonna resist. But when you didn’t, he leaned down once again, capturing your lips between his in a slow, deliberate kiss.

In that moment, it felt as if the world slowed and everything narrowed down to just the two of you. The softness of his lips brushing against yours, a gentle pull, sparked a sensation that coursed through your entire body. There was an unspoken connection, an effortless sync as you responded to each other’s movements, and the kiss deepened naturally. His breath mingled with yours, and his touch was both tender and intense, filled with desire. Time became irrelevant; you could have stayed in that moment forever. Nothing else mattered except the feeling and Nicholas.

Nicholas. Nicholas. Nicholas...

He was all your mind could focus on.

His lips parted from yours with a soft, wet sound before trailing down your cheek, behind your ear, and slowly along your neck. The slow descent of his kisses gave your mind a fleeting chance to gather a coherent thought.

"Nick— I really need to get going," you breathe, trying to summon a resolve that feels distant in the moment.

"Do you, now?" he murmurs against your skin, gently nipping at your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue, drawing a gasp from your lips.

He knew all of your vulnerabilities, every spot that made you gasp for air, craving more, and he was definitely using it to his advantage. But you weren’t exactly upset about that.

Nicholas was feeling it just as intensely. Your sweet sighs and tugging of his hair as he suckled on your neck made all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock, leaving him a needy mess. And it didn’t help when he sucked on that sweet spot behind your ear, making your back arch into him and accidentally grazing his hard, throbbing bulge.

He let out a low groan at the small amount of contact and was desperate for more. Once again, his lips were on yours, more hungry and ravenous than ever. You felt the air leave your lungs when he rolled his hips into yours feeling every inch of him. The repeated action of his hips grinding into yours made you let out the softest moans against his lips, and that sound alone was enough to make Nicholas go wild.

He pulls away for a second to catch his breath as you do the same, though his hips never stop their mindless rutting against yours. He was so drunk on the taste of you, he couldn’t help but start rambling.

“Feel that? Feel what you do to me, pretty girl? Hm?” He’s breathless against your lips as he ground his hips against yours more intently, making you feel him through the barrier of your blue lace panties and his black boxer briefs.

At this point, you were ready to get fired.

Nothing would be able to drag you away from this moment with Nick, not even your fucking job.

All you could do to respond is moan into the air, hoping he wouldn’t stop. His fingers trail down to the hem of his t-shirt on your body. He lifted it just enough to reveal your navel and abdomen, kissing along the fabric as his head traveled lower and lower.

You wasted no time in discarding the nuisance item of clothing leaving you in just your underwear.

Nicholas left gentle kisses along your abdomen, trailing down in between your thighs, all the way to your ankles, then back up again.

“You’re perfect,” He whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers down your spine.

His eyes darkened as they lingered on what he craved the most, groaning in approval at the wet spot left on your underwear. You were soaking and Nicholas was ready to have a taste of your sweet nectar.

He planted a gentle kiss on your pelvis just above the little blue bow of your underwear, dragging his lips against you until he stopped right at the center.

Looking up at you through his long lashes, with a raspy voice he asks, “is this okay?”

You nod, breathlessly answering “yes.” And with that he wasted no time.

His lips pressed against your clit through the fabric, stealing your breath away. When his tongue slid slowly over the damp fabric, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped, and he smirked against you.

“Look at you. So wet for me," he rambled, pulling the lace to the side to finally see you.

His finger glided through your folds, and he brought it to his lips, sucking it clean with his eyes closed in satisfaction.

The sight before you is so pornographic it makes you rut your hips up instinctively in hopes for some kind of friction which has him chuckling. He stops teasing you and discards your last item of clothing, leaving you completely exposed and bare to him.

Without warning, his flattened tongue swept a long, slow lick between your folds, making you cry out, your body reacting on its own as you ground against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair.

You become dizzy as he begins to lap at your heat like a dehydrated kitten and your hips suddenly have a mind of their own, grinding against his face, hand shooting out to tangle between his brown locks.

His lips suction on your bundle of nerves and as your back arches, he plunges a finger in you starting a pace that has your eyes rolling.

“F-fuck!” You cry out, clenching around his digit as his tongue flicks your clit in different patterns that sends shocks throughout your body, that is until he inserts a second finger.

It’s amazing and almost pathetic how quickly he has you crumbling to pieces with just a flick of his tongue and fingers. Soon enough, you felt the knot in your lower stomach tightening, and Nick sensed it as well with a knowing smile, watching how tense your body was becoming.

“Gonna cum for me, princess? Huh?” He mumbles against you, never slowing the relentless pace of his fingers, feeling you clench around them so tightly, it makes him chuckle.

“C’mon baby, soak me. I wanna taste you,” His words push you over the edge off the cliff you were hanging on for dear life.

A string of moans leave your lips as your body begins to shake and convulse uncontrollably. His tongue rides you through the utter bliss, suckling and suctioning causing aftershock waves to jolt through you.

Nick runs his hands up and down your thighs, whispering praises, peppering you with kisses all the way up to your lips as you catch your breath.

“Feeling good?” He whispers, brushing your messy strands of hair out of your face with a soft smile. You nod, returning his smile, glancing at his sheen chest, running your fingers up and down it.

Your gaze then drifts down to the bulge in his briefs, begging for attention to which you trail further down, palming him with light pressure.

Nick’s head falls into the pillow beside you, a low moan escaping his lips at the friction his cock was aching for.

“Fuck— baby, don’t,” He babbles, gasping as you reach into his briefs and release his shaft from the tight confines, pumping him slowly.

You feel the heat in your belly flare up again at his desperate sounds of relief, and begin to tap the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing the both of you.

Nick crashes his lips to yours in a needy haze, both gasping as you line him up with your entrance and start inching forward so slowly it’s practically torture.

You’re so slick with arousal, there’s minimal resistance to his intrusion as you feel your muscles stretching to accommodate around him. You both let out a euphoric moan when he fills you completely, stilling himself and relishing in the feeling of your warm, wet walls.

“God—” He strains against your mouth, “I don’t think I'll ever get over how amazing you feel, angel.”

You moan softly at his words, rutting your hips against his, “please...” you beg, voice trembling.

He smiles against your lips giving you a quick peck, “please what, baby—hm? Tell me what you need.”

You whine in frustration, rocking your hips up once again, to which he takes as an opportunity to sneak his arm under the small of your back and pin you up against his chest. “What do you need, love?”

Before you could form a coherent sentence, he thrusts his hips forward once, the slap of your skin on his echoing in your bedroom which pulls a sharp gasp from your lips.

Then again, and again, and again.

“That what you need, sweetheart?” He pants, starting a pace that has you a mess of strained moans, matching the rhythm of his hips. “Need me to fuck into you like this huh?”

You can't help when your hands tangle in his hair, pulling on it as you cry out when his hips pull back and slams into you with such force, it makes your entire body jolt.

His pace quickens as he rests his forehead against your own, the small actions of you tugging at his hair seeming to enrage him more.

The sounds that echoed in the softly sunlit bedroom were the wet slaps of your skin colliding and a string of profanities and pants coming from the both of you, your walls clenching tightly around him as the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot over and over again with each thrust, sending you into a spiral.

You could feel the knot in your lower tummy starting to get tighter and tighter, your muscles flexing around him as you feel yourself quivering and he can certainly feel it too. His head drops down next to yours letting out low groans, never stopping his ruthless thrusts and determination setting.

“That’s it baby, one more, please.” He whines in your ear, kissing your neck and fingers landing on your bundle of nerves to spur you on alongside his sharp thrusts.

“Fuck— Nick, I’m gonna come,” You warn, feeling yourself start to clench around his cock, to which he keeps his relentless pace to finally push you over the edge.

You let out one last strangled moan as the knot inside of you snaps, digging your nails into his back, your head thrown back as your entire body convulses.

He buried his head into your neck, slamming into you so feverishly to drive you deeper into ecstasy and once you come down is when his thrusts start to become sloppy and moans louder.

He suddenly jolts forward, sobbing out moans through his teeth, feeling his warmth paint your walls white. He collapses on top of you, both breathing so heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms rolling out of you.

Neither of you could move, relinquishing in each other’s company and trying to recover from the sensations you both just experienced.

After a while of sweet silence and whispering sweet nothings and praises to you, he rolls onto his side, bringing you closer to him.

He plants a soft kiss to the side of your head, drawing patterns on your arm with his fingers.

“I should probably call off now,” You suddenly say to which he responds with a snort.

He reaches down to level himself with your plump and swollen lips, stealing a kiss. “Yeah, you’re gonna be pretty busy the rest of this afternoon, angel.”

#⋆ ˚𝐚𝐫𝐢𝜗𝜚writes #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas chavez fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas chavez smut

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goldfades · 1 month ago

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HAUNTED BY YOU──FATHER MAYHEW

part two!!!!!!!!

─ summary | father mayhew is being tormented by dreams of a worshiper at the church, who appears both angelic and temptingly sinful in his visions. as the dreams grow more intense, he begins to wonder if they’re a sign from above or a test of his faith. when you confront him, father mayhew must choose between maintaining his distance or giving in to the passion that’s been haunting him

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut! mdni! wet dreams (strong start! i know!), description of self-pleasuring, oral (m!receiving), heavy degradation,hair-pulling, just overall rough sex, orgasm denial

─ ev's notes | like everyone and their damn mom, i've fell under nicholas's damn curse and i just had to come back to tumblr for this very self-indulgent fic. this is just porn with a lot plot LMAOOO. BUTTTTT my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO)

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

Father Charlie had always believed in the purity of dreams.

They were, in his mind, the unfiltered whispers of God—or at least, they had been. Lately, those whispers had been replaced by something far more sinful, and the dreams that used to bring him peace now left him gasping for air, tangled in sheets soaked with guilt and lust.

It started a few weeks ago, innocently enough.

You—a devout presence in the church, never missing a Sunday mass—had always caught his eye, but only in the way a shepherd might glance over his flock. He admired the way they knelt at the altar, the reverence in your bowed head, the delicate movements as you lit a candle in prayer. He told himself it was only admiration. But then the dreams began.

At first, they were fleeting images: your hands, fingers brushing over rosary beads, your doe eyes glancing up at him, lingering just a moment too long. He could dismiss them as nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him, the remnants of a long day.

But the dreams grew more vivid, more demanding. He saw you standing in the chapel late at night, a halo of moonlight casting a soft glow over your features, and when you turned to him, your gaze held something more than devotion. Something in between desperation and lust, something that was pure filth.

Charlie would wake in the dead of night, his chest tight with guilt and desire. He’d slip out of bed and kneel before the small wooden cross in his room, praying for guidance, praying for strength. But no matter how many Hail Marys he whispered into the darkness, the dreams persisted.

And now, they were getting worse.

Tonight, the dream came again, but this time, it was sharper—too real. You stood before him, just as you did every Sunday, but there was no congregation. Just the two of you, alone in the quiet sanctity of the church. He could hear your breathing, could feel the weight of your presence as they stepped closer, your fingers grazing over his. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as they looked up at him with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of eternity.

"Father," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with something dangerous, something that made the blood in his veins run hot.

He wanted to look away, wanted to pull his hand back, but he couldn’t. Instead, he stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as you moved closer, so close now that he could feel the warmth of your breath on his skin. You reached up, their fingers brushing lightly across his cheek, and he felt a shudder pass through him—half desire, half longing.

"Why do you run from this?" you asked, your voice a low murmur that echoed in the stillness of the church. "Why do you run from me?"

He swallowed thickly, words catching in his throat as he tried to speak. "This isn’t… I can’t…"

But before he could finish, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him with a touch so gentle it felt like a caress. "You don’t have to speak," you whispered. "You already know the answer."

With that, you kissed him—soft at first, almost testing, as if waiting for him to push you away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he felt himself melting into the kiss, his resolve crumbling as you deepened it, your hands sliding over his chest, pushing aside the fabric of his cassock. The feel of their touch was electric, every nerve in his body alive with sensation as they explored his skin, your fingers leaving trails of fire wherever they roamed.

"Please..." he heard himself whisper, though he wasn’t sure if he was begging them to stop or to continue. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as desire overwhelmed him

Your lips traveled down his neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake, and Charlie groaned despite himself, his hands moving of their own accord to grasp your hips, pulling them closer. You pressed against him, and he could feel the softness of your body against his, the intoxicating scent of your familiar perfume filling his senses.

He knew this was wrong. He knew he should stop, should pull away and regain control of himself, but he couldn’t. His mind was clouded with lust, his body betraying him completely as your hands continued their exploration, your touch driving him to the brink of madness.

"Let go," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin as you slid a hand lower, your touch eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. The pleasure was overwhelming, surging through him like a wave as you stroked him, you movements slow and deliberate, coaxing him closer and closer to the edge.

Charlie’s grip on the altar tightened as he felt himself losing control, his body trembling with the force of his desire. He wanted more, needed more, and you seemed all too willing to give it to him, your lips pressing against his once again as your hand moved faster, pushing him closer and closer to release.

When it came, it was like an explosion of heat and pleasure, washing over him in waves that left him gasping for breath. He clung to you, his body shuddering with the intensity of it all, his mind spinning in a haze of ecstasy and guilt.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Charlie woke with a start, gasping for breath, his body tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. His heart raced, pounding violently in his chest as the remnants of the dream clung to him, vivid and inescapable. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to shake the images from his mind, but they lingered—soft touches, whispered words, the sensation of heat curling through him in ways it shouldn’t.

It had been more than a dream. It was more sinful, more explicit, and far too real. His skin still burned from where you had touched him, your hands roaming over his body with an intimacy that made his chest tighten with guilt. His throat was dry, aching, but not with thirst—no, with something far deeper and darker.

"God," he muttered, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Please..."

He shifted under the blankets, feeling the undeniable evidence of his arousal—a sickening reminder of what had transpired in the dream. Shame washed over him like a cold tide, dousing the warmth that had gripped him so fiercely only moments ago. He didn’t dare move, his entire being consumed by regret and disgust.

He couldn't believe he came from the mere thought of you. It was sickening—he felt like a teenager all over again. How could he have let this happen? How could his mind, his very body, betray him like this?

Your face flickered in his mind again—those eyes, filled with longing and desire, the way you had smiled at him, that wicked, knowing grin. It hadn’t been innocent, not in the least. You had touched him in ways he had never been touched in a while, ways he wasn’t supposed to experience again.

He threw back the covers, the cool air in the room hitting his overheated skin as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet hit the floor with a soft thud, and for a moment, he simply sat there, head in his hands, struggling to regain some semblance of control.

A priest wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to be consumed by desire, least of all for someone so... unattainable. Someone who had come to him for guidance, for spiritual comfort, not for whatever this had been.

He stood, shaking, the cold of the room biting into him. He needed to calm himself, to pray, to wash away the evidence of his sin.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the dream. Couldn’t forget the way it had felt—the warmth, the pleasure, the ache of it all.

Father Charlie whispered a desperate prayer under his breath as he padded to the bathroom. As the water ran cold over his skin, he prayed again for strength—for a release from this burden that had taken hold of him.

But deep down, the fear gnawed at him: what if this wasn’t the last time? What if he wasn't strong enough to resist?

He shivered at the thought.

──

Father Charlie stood by the doorway of the church hall, his gaze sweeping over the room. The sounds of children’s laughter and the murmur of conversations filled the air as parents and volunteers mingled. It was a typical event—one that should’ve had his attention focused on the joyful chaos before him

But his focus was elsewhere.

You sat at a table on the far side of the room, your attention seemingly on the children around you, but there was an unmistakable shift in the air between the two of you. His eyes kept being drawn back to you, despite his efforts to look elsewhere, to find something—anything—that might distract him from the growing heat in his chest and the tightness in his pants.

Then, you slipped the bright red lollipop between your lips, the movement slow, deliberate, and utterly intoxicating. It was a seemingly innocent gesture, one that any onlooker might dismiss, but Charlie saw it for what it was—a silent taunt, a temptation that you knew he couldn’t tear his gaze from.

His throat tightened as he watched you, your eyes flicking up to meet his, a playful glint dancing behind them. You held his gaze as you swirled the candy in your mouth, the exaggerated motion sending a jolt of excitement and heat straight through him. It was subtle enough to avoid drawing attention from anyone else, but the intent behind it was clear.

You were tempting him. And he knew it.

Charlie clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the back of a nearby chair. He felt torn between his duty—his responsibility to maintain control, to be the figure of moral guidance he was supposed to be—and the way his body reacted to you, the way desire simmered just beneath his skin.

You smirked around the lollipop, letting it slip slowly from your mouth before you spoke to the child beside you, your voice light and innocent. But your eyes remained locked on his for a beat longer, the unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Father Charlie turned away quickly, trying to suppress the fire burning through him. He felt as though he were in a battle with himself—a war between the man he was and the desires that he struggled to keep buried. His mind raced with guilt, knowing that this tension—this attraction—was something he should never indulge.

But when he glanced back at you, and saw the way your plump lips wrapped around the candy once more, his breath caught in his throat. The world around him—the event, the children, the laughter—seemed to blur into the background as you continued to play this dangerous game.

Every gesture, every glance, felt like a carefully orchestrated tease, one that made it impossible for him to look away, even though he knew he should.

Charlie’s heart pounded in his chest, the temptation pulling at him stronger than it had ever been before. He couldn’t let this go on, he told himself. He needed to leave, to step away before he lost control entirely.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself to walk away, the sight of you sitting there, sucking on that lollipop with a mischievous glint in your eye, held him captive.

He let out a sigh, feeling his pants tighten once more. He glanced down, there was a noticeable bulge poking out.

With a sharp inhale, he tore his gaze away from you and pushed himself toward the nearest exit, keeping his movements as natural as he could manage. His skin burned with shame as he walked, the feeling of his pants tightening only making his predicament worse. He kept his head low, praying no one would stop him on his way out.

Or worse, see the issue at hand.

The corridor leading to the church bathrooms was mercifully empty, the laughter and conversations fading behind him as he moved quickly toward the door marked Men. His steps were hurried, and by the time he reached the bathroom, his breath was ragged.

Charlie shoved the door open and stepped inside, locking it behind him. He leaned against the sink, gripping the edges tightly as he tried to collect himself. His reflection in the mirror showed a man torn between the roles he was meant to fulfill and the raw human desire threatening to break through.

The bulge in his pants hadn’t lessened, and the sight of it brought another wave of heat crashing over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would block out the image of you, teasing and playful, with that lollipop in your mouth.

The temptation was too much, and he hated himself for it.

He couldn't think about you. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on the way your lips had moved, or the sly glint in your eyes, or the overwhelming desire that had burned in the pit of his stomach. He needed to focus. To rid himself of this unbearable need before it consumed him entirely.

With shaking hands, Charlie fumbled at his belt, a silent prayer escaping his lips, though he doubted any words of faith could cleanse the guilt twisting inside him now. He fought to keep his mind blank, but the image of you kept resurfacing—your teasing smile, your suggestive glances, the way your mouth had played with that lollipop as if you knew exactly what it was doing to him.

His breath hitched as he unzipped his pants, his mind waging a losing battle against his body's demands. This wasn’t what he wanted—not really—but the heat, the tension, the pressure… it was all too much. He felt helpless, lost in a battle he had no hope of winning.

He cursed under his breath as his hand moved over the fabric, the friction both a release and a deepening source of guilt. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep silent, though the shame only made his body more desperate for relief. It wasn’t just physical; it was emotional, a chaotic mix of guilt, desire, and the thrill of crossing a line he had vowed never to approach.

His thoughts flickered back to the church hall, imagining you sitting there, your eyes still locked on his, your lips still playing that dangerous game. But instead of the lollipop, it was his cock instead. You were looking up at him with those doe eyes, the ones he could never get enough of.

This was wrong—so terribly wrong—but in this moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

A strangled sigh escaped him as the tension inside built toward its inevitable conclusion. His movements became more frantic, his mind clouded with both desire and self-loathing. He fought to suppress the groan rising in his throat, his body betraying him as he sought the release he knew would come all too quickly.

But before he could cum, he heard a knock. His eyes snapped open, his body shaking. But his movements didn't falter.

"Taken!" He groaned out, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Father, it's me."

Charlie froze, his entire body going rigid at the sound of your voice. The very voice that had been the cause of his torment—the one that filled his thoughts during long, sleepless nights, and echoed in his mind during moments of prayer. Hearing it now, so close, made his stomach lurch with guilt and panic.

His hands were still trembling, his sticky arousal refusing to dissipate even as the cold wave of reality crashed down on him. He bit down on his lip, heart racing, his mind screaming at him to pull himself together. But the fact that you were standing just beyond the door, oblivious to the storm you'd stirred within him, made it impossible for him to think straight.

"Father?" your voice called again, this time with a soft, almost innocent lilt that twisted the knife deeper.

He swallowed hard, forcing his breathing to steady, though the heat in his chest hadn’t faded. His hand hovered over his zipper, shaking with the shame of what he had been doing just moments before. His body still ached with unresolved tension, but he pushed it down, trying to ignore the unbearable need that still pulsed through him.

"Yes?" His voice cracked as he finally spoke, hoarse and raw. He cleared his throat, trying to sound composed. "I... I’m a little busy at the moment."

There was a brief pause from the other side of the door, and he could almost imagine the look on your face—the innocent expression you always wore, one that belied the way you had been teasing him, testing him for weeks. You had to know what you were doing. There was no other explanation for it.

"Sorry, Father," you replied, your voice apologetic, but with that familiar hint of playfulness that made his pulse quicken. "I just... I wanted to talk to you. Is everything alright? You sounded a bit... off. You just ran off, and I was worried."

Worried? You knew damn well what you were doing.

His heart hammered in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to respond, especially when he could still feel the tightness in his pants, the shameful evidence of his struggle with temptation. He couldn’t let you see him like this. Not after what he had almost done. No, not almost—what he had done.

"I’m fine," he replied, the words rushing out too quickly. "Just—just give me a moment, please."

There was silence on the other side, and Father Charlie closed his eyes, cursing himself under his breath. He knew he needed to calm down, to suppress the lingering arousal that still throbbed through him, but it was nearly impossible with you standing just beyond the door, your voice echoing in his mind, a constant reminder of the desires he could no longer ignore.

"Okay, Father," you said after a long pause, your tone gentle, yet still laced with that underlying tease. "I’ll wait for you outside."

As soon as you spoke, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, his body slumping against the sink in a mixture of frustration and shame. He could still feel the tension coiled tightly in his core, but he had to ignore it now—had to push it down and find some semblance of control before he faced you.

Charlie adjusted his clothes quickly, forcing himself to focus on anything but the ache that still pulsed through him. He wiped the sweat from his brow, straightened his collar, and took a long, deep breath.

The door was still locked, but knowing you were just outside filled him with dread and anticipation in equal measure. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could withstand the temptation you had placed in front of him, but for now, he had to pretend. He had to keep up the façade of control, even as the cracks in his resolve grew deeper by the day

With one final glance in the mirror, Father Charlie steeled himself and turned the lock, pulling the door open to face the very source of his downfall.

And there you were, standing just a few feet away, your eyes wide and innocent—though he knew better than to believe it was all innocence. You were a temptation he could barely resist, and every interaction only pulled him further into the darkness he'd been desperately trying to avoid.

"Is everything alright, Father?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, that sweet, familiar smile on your lips. But your eyes—those teasing eyes—held a glimmer that set his heart racing once more.

"Y-yes," he stammered, his throat tight, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. "Everything’s fine."

But as you looked up at him, your gaze lingering just a moment too long, Father Charlie knew this battle was far from over.

Your eyes glanced down at his pants, his bulge evident. Your eyebrows rose as you blinked up at him, the same teasing smile on your plump lips. "You don't look fine, Father."

The way you said his title almost made his knees buckle. He couldn't handle it, not anymore. "What do you think?" He snapped.

Your teasing smile widened, clearly pleased by the crack in Father Charlie's composure. His words, harsh and unsteady, only seemed to encourage you. You took a small step closer, the space between you shrinking as the tension in the air thickened, palpable and dangerous.

"What do I think?" you repeated, your voice soft and sweet, but laced with a knowing edge that sent another jolt through him. "I think you’ve been struggling, Father. I can see it in your eyes… feel it in the way you look at me."

He clenched his jaw, fists balling at his sides. Every instinct screamed for him to shut this down, to end the conversation and walk away before he did something he could never take back. But the heat burning in his chest, the tightness in his pants, and the way you gazed up at him with those teasing, taunting eyes made it impossible for him to think clearly.

His breath hitched, his throat tightening as he tried to keep his voice level, to maintain the last threads of control he still had. "You... need to leave," he muttered through gritted teeth, though the command sounded more like a plea. He took a step back, trying to put distance between you, but his back hit the wall, trapping him in a corner.

You didn’t follow him, but your eyes stayed locked on his, your lips parting ever so slightly as you spoke again. "Do you want me to leave, Father?" you asked, your voice dripping with temptation, your tone making it clear you knew the answer before he could even speak.

He opened his mouth to respond, to say yes, to do what he knew was right, but the words wouldn’t come. His body betrayed him, still trembling with the aftermath of the temptation he had barely controlled just moments ago. The guilt twisted deeper in his chest, but with you standing there, so close, so dangerous, he couldn’t bring himself to push you away.

You took another small step forward, your eyes flicking down once more to the bulge straining against his pants. "You don’t look like you want me to go," you murmured, your voice low and intimate.

The way you said it, so confidently, so calmly, broke something inside him. His breathing quickened, the shame mixing with desire in a way that left him dizzy and unable to think straight. His hands itched to reach out, to grab you, to pull you closer, but he forced them to stay at his sides, his knuckles white from the effort of holding back.

"Fuck," he got out before he finally grabbed your wrist. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"

You didn't respond, just stared back at him with a smirk. "What you mean—"

"Shh, shut up. Just shut up," Father Charlie got out as his grip on your wrist tighten. He looked around the empty corridors and pulled you into the bathroom, practically pushing you into it. He slammed the door behind him, locking it.

The slam of the door echoed through the small bathroom, the sound sharp and final. Father Charlie stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he fought to keep a grip on himself. The small, dimly lit space felt suffocating, the walls closing in as the tension between you thickened, charged with unspoken desire.

You leaned back against the sink, your expression still playful, teasing, as if you held all the power in this twisted game. And maybe you did. You watched him, your smirk never fading, as his eyes darkened with lust, the lines between what was right and what he wanted blurring faster than he could stop them.

"Father," you whispered, your voice lilting, almost mocking as it dripped with the weight of temptation. "We really shouldn't—"

"I told you to shut up," he growled, cutting you off. His voice was rough, raw with the conflict tearing him apart. But his body betrayed him, his hands trembling as he reached out, fingers wrapping around your arm with a grip that was both desperate and unsteady.

For weeks, he had tried to deny it—to push down the thoughts, the fantasies, the overwhelming pull of desire you had stirred within him. But now, standing here with you, the air thick with temptation, he felt like a man on the edge of a cliff, teetering between control and the abyss.

"Do you think this is a game?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, though you could hear the tremor beneath it. He stepped closer, towering over you, his body radiating heat. "Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing? The looks, the way you talk to me, the way you… tease me?"

You met his gaze, unflinching, your smile widening. "Maybe it is a game," you said softly, tilting your head, eyes dancing with mischief. "But you’re the one who's playing along."

His grip tightened, his breath hitching as your words sank in. He hated how true they were. Every time he had looked at you, every moment his mind had wandered to the things he shouldn't have been thinking—he had been playing into this. And now, he was standing on the edge of a line he couldn’t afford to cross.

But he had already crossed it, hadn't he?

"Shut up," he whispered again, though this time his voice was weaker, the command laced with more desperation than authority. His free hand pressed against the wall beside you, his body leaning in closer, so close he could feel the heat radiating from your skin.

You tilted your chin up, eyes gleaming as you watched him struggle, as if you were daring him to let go of the last shreds of control he clung to. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted you to push him over the edge.

"Or what?" you whispered back, the challenge clear in your tone.

Father Charlie’s jaw clenched, his entire body tense as he wrestled with himself, his grip on you tightening. His breath was hot and ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared down at you. For a moment, it seemed like he might pull back, that he might step away, regain the control that had been slipping through his fingers.

But then he kissed you.

It was sudden, rough, and filled with the weeks of pent-up desire he had been fighting so hard to contain. His lips crashed against yours, his hands pulling you closer, as if giving in to the temptation that had been haunting him was the only way to make the ache go away.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, and you could feel the conflict in every movement—how he both wanted this and hated himself for wanting it.

You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. His hands slid up and down your back before suddenly finding your hair, pulling it back from the kiss.

"You're a whore," he gritted out as he gripped your hair impossibly rougher. "A whore in disguise, aren't you? You feign innocence but you're the most sinful in this Church."

Father Charlie's words were harsh, laced with anger and lust, but the grip in your hair sent a different message—desire and desperation. His brown eyes, dark and conflicted, bore into yours as he pulled you even closer, his breath hot against your skin. His control was slipping, unraveling faster with every second, and he knew it.

You smiled up at him, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "If I'm sinful, Father, then what does that make you?" you asked softly, your voice teasing, daring him to continue.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing at your words, a low growl escaping his throat as he yanked your head back, exposing your neck. "It makes me weak," he muttered, his lips ghosting over your skin. "Weak because of you. Because of the way you tempt me."

His mouth hovered just inches from your neck, his breath warm, his body pressed against yours, every movement charged with the weight of the forbidden. His hands, still tangled in your hair, trembled with a mixture of restraint and hunger.

"You're what’s wrong with me," he whispered, his voice hoarse, as if he were trying to convince himself of the words as much as he was trying to convince you. "You’ve dragged me down to your level. Made me forget everything I stand for. Everything I’m supposed to be."

But even as he spoke, his lips brushed your neck, leaving a trail of heated, fleeting kisses along your skin. His body moved on instinct, driven by the desire he could no longer deny.

Father Charlie's lips pressed harder against your neck, his breath ragged as his restraint dissolved. His words, filled with self-loathing, contradicted the urgency of his touch. Each kiss grew more desperate, more reckless, as if he were trying to bury the shame and guilt in the taste of your skin. His grip in your hair tightened, pulling you closer, and the tension between you ignited into something explosive, something neither of you could stop now.

His free hand roamed down your body, fingertips pressing into your waist, his touch both rough and reverent, like he was grappling with the weight of his own desire. Every brush of his hand, every kiss, was a betrayal of the man he had once been. But the way your body responded, the way you leaned into him, only fueled the fire burning inside him.

"God help me," he whispered against your collarbone, the words barely audible, as if he were speaking them to himself more than to you. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

You let out a soft moan, your hands tangling in his hair, encouraging him to continue, to give in completely. His resolve crumbled further with every sound you made, every movement of your body against his. The line between right and wrong, between control and surrender, had long since vanished.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes wild, filled with a mix of anger, lust, and confusion. His chest heaved as he looked at you, torn between pushing you away and pulling you even closer.

"I hate you for this," he rasped, though the heat in his eyes betrayed the truth. "But I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting you."

You smiled, a knowing, satisfied smile, as your hand slid down his chest. "Then don’t stop," you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction, coaxing him deeper into the darkness.

That was all it took. With a frustrated growl, he crashed his lips against yours again, harder this time, as if punishing both of you for the sinful desire you had ignited. His hands roamed freely now, no longer held back by hesitation or fear. There was only the raw, uncontrollable need consuming him.

Whatever consequences lay ahead, whatever guilt or shame waited for him on the other side of this moment, Father Charlie couldn’t bring himself to care. Not anymore.

Charlie yanked your hair back again, then stared into your eyes. Without warning, he pushed you to your knees roughly. "How about you do something useful for once, huh?" He muttered breathlessly.

You blinked back up at him, your hands finding their place on his hips. You moved slow and deliberate, which angered Charlie more. Charlie’s eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling at your scalp just enough to make you gasp. The frustration in his gaze was palpable—fueled by your deliberate slowness, by the way you reveled in the power you had over him.

“You think this is funny?” he growled, his breath ragged as he watched you, his fingers digging into your scalp. His frustration was obvious, but beneath that anger was a raw, unquenchable desire. He hated how much control you had over him, how easily you made him lose himself.

You smiled up at him, slow and teasing, your fingers trailing over his hips, letting him feel the barest touch of your hands. “Maybe it is,” you whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief, enjoying every second of his torment. "At least, to me it is."

You could feel the tension radiating from him, the barely contained hunger in his every movement. Slowly, teasingly, you ran your hands lower, grazing over the bulge straining against his pants, earning a sharp intake of breath from him.

Charlie’s hand tightened in your hair as a low growl escaped his throat. “You think you’re so fucking clever,” he rasped, his voice low and dangerous, his grip on you firm as he stared down with a mix of lust and anger. “But you’re going to regret this.”

Your smirk widened, and without breaking eye contact, you undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clink. His breath hitched as you slowly unzipped his pants, the anticipation thick between you, hanging in the air like a loaded weapon.

“Prove it,” you challenged, your voice a soft murmur as you looked up at him, daring him to follow through on his words.

For a moment, Charlie stood there, his chest heaving, torn between the overwhelming desire that had consumed him and the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. But the pull of temptation was too strong—too powerful to resist any longer.

With a grunt of frustration, he grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you forward as he freed himself. “I don’t care what happens after this,” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with lust and anger. “Right now, you’re mine. And you're gonna do what I fucking tell you.”

You barely had time to respond before he pushed your mouth onto his cock, rough and demanding, his hand guiding you with a forceful grip. The suddenness of it made your breath catch, but you quickly adjusted, falling into a rhythm as he set the pace, his body trembling with the intensity of his need.

You wrapped your lips around him, moaning. His cock was dripping with pre-cum, and your saliva made it messier—but neither of you cared. The bathroom was filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing, punctuated by the occasional low moan as you worked him with sloppy, measured motions. His hips thrust forward, pushing deeper, his control rapidly slipping away as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure.

Your mouth was so warm and inviting, he couldn't stop. This was what heaven felt like, he swore—there was nothing better than this feeling, the feeling of your sinful mouth.

Charlie’s hand tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your scalp as he lost himself in the moment, all thoughts of guilt or consequences forgotten. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a growl as his head fell back, eyes fluttering shut. “You… you’re such a fucking tease.”

He pushed you until you were gagging around his cock, much to his dismay. "Take it, whore. This is what you wanted, right? For me to use you?"

Your eyes were watering and your jaw felt like it was going to break, but his mean words egged you on. You hummed around him, a wicked smile curling at the edges of your lips as you kept gliding up and down his cock.

But just as he was on the edge, just as the tension in his body built to an unbearable peak, he suddenly yanked you off him, breathless and furious, eyes blazing as he stared down at you.

“Get up,” he commanded, his voice low and guttural, barely holding onto the last threads of control. “Turn around, whore.”

You barely had any time to react before he turned you around to face the mirror. He bent you over the sink as you let out a whimper, before his hands found your hair again and yanked it up.

"Look at you," he murmured as he forced you to look at yourself.

Your hair was a mess, your mascara running down your doe eyes and your sticky cheeks and chin. You caught your breath as you glanced back to meet his eyes through the mirror.

He bent you completely over the sink and landed a sharp slap on your behind. You let out a yelp, shutting your eyes at the stinging feeling. "Fuck,"

"What? Is it too much now, baby?" Charlie spoke, his voice dripping with mockery. His lips were curved into a smirk as he tutted. "This is what you wanted, right?"

He didn't give you time to respond before leading the tip of cock to your folds. You felt his heavy tip on your sloppy entrance, practically begging to get fucked. He hadn't even gotten the chance to touch you properly and you were already soaked.

He hummed at the warm feeling before pushing inside. He let out a huff of air, his head falling back in pure ecstasy. "Oh, yeah," was all he could get out. Your hands found the edge of the sink, gripping it tightly as you let out a desperate moan.

Charlie pushed himself all the way in, bottoming you out within a few quick seconds. He didn't even let you adjust to his size before he began slamming you into roughly, the edge of the sink burying into your stomach.

His thrusts were sharp and relentless, he wasn't letting up anytime soon. You felt like you were on a different planet, the feeling of his cock was dizzying as your eyes rolled back into your head.

"O-oh, fuck!" You cried out as your head fell forward.

Charlie gripped your hips even tighter as he groaned with each slam of his own hips, his head falling back. Your cunt tighten around his cock, and he felt your release coming. One of his hands reached up to grip your head roughly.

"Don't you dare cum, not yet," He got out breathlessly as you tried your best to nod. "Do not cum."

You squeezed, holding off your orgasm as you were told. You didn't know if you could—but you knew the consequences would be dire, Charlie wasn't playing around anymore.

A few harsh slams and he was cumming deep inside you, his moans echoing in the small bathroom. He rode out his high, his grip in your hair not easing one bit. "Fucking take it,"

You whimpered as you tried to hold off your orgasm, tears falling from your eyes as you gripped the sink. Without warning, he slipped out of you.

Your eyes opened and you turned around to face him. "Charlie—"

He cut you off swiftly as he pulled his pants up. "You don't deserve it,"

"Deserve it?" You practically cried out. "I just let you fuck me and you're not gonna let me cum?"

Father Charlie just shrugged. "Whores don't get to cum."

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gilbertscurls · 2 months ago

Text

Taste ➵ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: SMUT, virgin!matt, softdom!reader, unprotected p in v, heavy on praise and consent, oral!f!receiving, can't tell if it's cringe or not lmao

synopsis: on their first anniversary, y/n and matt finally decide to go all the way.

“I can't believe it's been a year already.” You let out a quiet sigh.

Matt nodded, the thought of their year together bringing a smile to his lips.

“Yeah. It feels like just yesterday we had our first date,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

He remembered every detail of that day, the way you looked, the way he'd been so nervous he felt like he might throw up. But he'd found the courage to ask you out, and you'd said yes. It felt like a dream come true.

Matt's gaze drifted from your face to the room around them. The soft, warm light of the lamp by the bed was casting shadows on the walls, the room cozy and intimate. The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by their soft breathing. Matt couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, a feeling of being right where he belonged.

“I can't believe how lucky I am,” he murmured, his voice low. “To have you, I mean.”

“I'm the lucky one,” you whispered.

Matt chuckled softly at your words, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

“Oh, please,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I'm the one who gets to hold you like this, to call you mine. I think I won the lottery.”

You giggled, a sound that always made Matt's heart skip a beat.

“I can't argue with that,” you conceded. You snuggled closer to him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “But I get to hold you back, so we're even.”

Matt's hand moved to your back, gently tracing circles on your skin. The feel of you against him, the sound of your voice, was comforting and soothing, but it also stirred a different kind of feeling in him. A feeling of desire and longing.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer, his fingers tracing your spine. Matt's heart thrummed with anticipation. The fact that you've never done more than kiss had been on his mind a lot lately. He wanted you, more than he could say. And tonight felt different, special. It was their anniversary, a milestone in their relationship. A part of him ached to take things further, to show you how much he loved you. But his insecurities and anxieties held him back. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he disappointed you? The thought was terrifying.

“Baby,” he finally said, breaking the silence between them. He swallowed hard, his heart beating a little faster. “Can I ask you something?” His voice was nervous, and he was suddenly regretting asking you anything at all.

At his anxious tone, you knitted your brows and turned to face him. “Of course. What is it?”

Matt looked down at you, his thoughts a swirling mess of anxiety and desire. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “It's… It's our anniversary,” he started, his voice a little shaky. “And I was wondering…”

He trailed off, the words failing him. He felt like a complete idiot. He'd never been good with expressing his desires, especially when it came to physical intimacy.

You gazed at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. You could tell he was nervous, and it made you worry. You reached up, gently caressing his cheek. “Yes?” you prompted, your voice gentle and encouraging.

Matt's heart fluttered at your touch, and he took another deep breath, summoning his courage. “I was just… I was thinking…” he mumbled, his words barely more than a whisper. “Tonight, I was hoping we could… Take things further.”

He felt a blush rising up his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Are you sure? Like, 100% sure?”

Matt nodded quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice trembling slightly. “I'm sure. I've been thinking about it for a while now. I… I want you, baby.”

Saying the words out loud sent a shockwave of adrenaline through him. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and wonderful all at once. But he knew he needed to be honest, to lay it all out on the table.

“I'm just... nervous,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I've never done anything more than kissing, and I don't… I don't know if I'll be any good.”

“It's okay,” you whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek. “But are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”

Matt leaned into your touch, the warmth and tenderness of your hand calming him down a little. But your words also made him pause. Was he sure? He desperately wanted this, wanted you. But his insecurities were still looming, a dark cloud in the back of his mind.

“I'm sure,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “I want this. With you.”

“All right.” You nodded. “How… How far are we talking?”

Matt felt his cheeks flush even more, but he forced himself to keep eye contact with you. He appreciated your directness, and your willingness to talk about this openly.

“I, uh…” he began, his voice still a little shaky. “Everything, I guess. If you want that.”

He swallowed hard, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He hoped he wasn't pressuring you or coming on too strong.

You felt your heart skipping a beat and heat already pooling in your lower abdomen. “I do,” you said softly. “But I want to make sure you're completely comfortable.”

Hearing your confirmation sent a pang of excitement through Matt. He felt a mix of emotions, desire, affection, and a hint of fear. But overruling it all was a deep sense of trust. Your words, your reassurance, it was all he needed.

“I am,” he said, his voice a little steadier now. “I trust you, baby. Completely.”

A small, tender smile crept onto your face. “Okay.” Your voice was so soft, so sweet, so kind. “Do you… Want me to take the lead?”

Matt's heart leaped at your question, a mix of relief and desire coursing through him. The idea of you taking control was both frightening and exciting. He hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “I… I want you to take the lead.”

You put one of your hands on his cheek before slowly and gently pressing your lips against his.

Matt's heart skipped a beat at the feel of your lips on his. He'd kissed you countless times before, but this kiss felt different, more intimate. He let out a soft sigh against your mouth, all his anxieties and worries melting away as your touch filled his senses. He brought his own hands up to cup your face, his fingers gently tracing your jaw, his touch soft and reverent.

The kiss deepened, their mouths moving against each other in a slow, languorous dance. Matt could feel the heat pooling in his stomach, the desire for you growing with every passing second. The fear was still there, but it was muffled by the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. He pulled you closer, his hands moving to your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin.

Not stopping the kiss, You moved to straddle his lap, your knees on both sides of his thighs.

Matt felt a shiver run down his spine as you straddled him, your body suddenly so close and so warm. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, their bodies now pressed together in a way you’ve never been before. The feeling of your weight on his lap ignited a new wave of desire in him, his kisses growing even more intense. He wanted you, desperately.

“You okay?” you mumbled into his lips.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as you spoke, the feeling of your words more like breath than a sound. He couldn't even form a response, his mind completely consumed by your touch and the taste of your lips. He managed a nod, a weak yes whispered against your mouth. He was more than okay. He was on fire.

Matt groaned involuntarily at the feel of your tongue against his lip, the sound more a mixture of pleasure and need than anything else. He immediately parted his lips, granting you access without a second thought. His hands moved to your thighs, his fingers gripping your flesh as he opened his mouth to her.

The kiss grew hungrier, more urgent. Their tongues tangled together, exploring each other without restraint. Matt was lost in the sensation, in the feeling of you in his lap, your body pressed against him. He could hardly think straight, his mind clouded by desire and need. His hips involuntarily bucked slightly, seeking more contact.

“Impatient, huh?” You teased softly, pulling away a little.

Matt let out a low growl of frustration as you pulled away, a mix of desire and irritation in his expression. He was getting so lost in the moment, he was aching for more. Your words, your tease only heightened his need.

“Baby…” he breathed, his voice a mixture of pleading and impatience. “Don't tease me.”

You smiled tenderly before grabbing his both hands and sliding them under your crop top, urging him to take it off.

Matt let out a sharp breath at the feel of your skin under his hands, your top soft and warm. Without hesitation, he moved his hands slowly up your stomach, his fingers exploring the planes of your skin as he helped you pull off your crop top. It fell to the floor, forgotten. His eyes went wide at the sight of your half-naked upper body, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh God,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

Matt couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to. His eyes were drawn to your chest, his breath hitching at the sight. It was as if his brain was shorting out, his desire for you overwhelming everything else. He felt a mix of awe, arousal, and a hint of nervousness. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly very dry.

“You're… You're so beautiful,” he managed to whisper, his voice thick with want.

You smiled softly, your fingertips tracing his shoulders over the t-shirt. “Can I take it off, baby?”

Matt's muscles twitched under your touch, your words sending a shudder down his spine.

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice a little shaky. “Please.”

He wanted to feel your skin on his, the touch of your fingers on his bare chest. He raised his arms to help you as you tugged his t-shirt over his head, discarding it to the side.

Matt's muscles twitched under your touch, your words sending a shudder down his spine. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice a little shaky. “Please.”

He wanted to feel your skin on his, the touch of your fingers on his bare chest. He raised his arms to help you as you tugged his t-shirt over his head, discarding it to the side.

Once the shirt was off, his chest was now bare, exposed to your touch and gaze. Matt felt a mixture of vulnerability and excitement, his heart beating fast in his chest. He could feel your eyes on him, your fingers tracing soft patterns on his skin. He wanted you, all of you.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice ragged with need. “Touch me.”

Obediently, You ran your fingertips through his shoulders, to his arms, to his chest. “God, you're so beautiful,” you whispered breathlessly.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as your fingers glided over his skin, your touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. He shivered under your touch, a small moan escaping his lips. Your words, your voice, your touch — it was all almost too much to bear.

“No, you are,” he breathed, his own hands moving to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So beautiful. So perfect."

You were doing everything so slowly and gently, knowing that he'd never done anything like that before. You wanted to make it so good for him. Matt was both grateful and frustrated by your slow and gentle pace. Grateful that you were so patient, and so understanding, but frustrated because he just wanted more. He wanted to be consumed by you, to lose himself in your touch. But he knew you were doing it for his sake, to make it easier for him, and that only made him love you more.

“Baby,” he gasped, his voice pleading. “Please. More. I need more.”

You smirked before leaning a little closer to his face. “You want more?”

Matt looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, his expression a mixture of need and pleading.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice a little breathless. “I want more. I want all of you.”

He reached up to you, his hands skimming up your sides, his touch firm and possessive. He wanted to touch you, to feel you, to lose himself in you.

“Please,” he added, his voice a low, desperate plea.

You held his face as you kissed him once again, the kiss sweet and full of emotion.

Matt returned the kiss hungrily, his lips moving against yours with a mix of desperation and affection. He couldn't get close enough to you, his hands roaming over your bare skin, wanting to feel you, to touch you everywhere. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a new, more urgent fervor. He could feel his desire for you growing, overpowering everything else.

“Baby…” he breathed into your mouth. “Please, I… I need you.”

Matt swore, his head falling back on the pillow as you ground your hips with his. The feel of you grinding against him, the friction, the heat, and the pressure — it was almost too much. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, trying to pull you closer, to increase the contact. A low moan escaped his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Oh God,” he panted, his eyes squeezed shut. “Baby… That feels… That feels so good.”

“You sound so pretty,” you praised breathlessly.

Matt blushed at your words, his heart fluttering at your praise. He let out another soft moan as you rode against him, his body responding instinctively. He was completely lost in the sensation, the feel of your body against his driving him mindless. He tried to form words, to respond, but all that came out was another low groan.

“God… Baby,” he breathed, his hands still holding onto your hips. “Don't… Don't stop.”

His body was on fire, his every nerve alive with desire. He could feel his own hardness growing beneath you, a testament to how much he needed you. His hips canted upward, seeking more contact, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. He opened his eyes, looking up at you, his gaze filled with a mix of want and awe.

“Sweetheart… I… I don't know how much… How much longer I can last,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

“It's okay, baby,” you cooed, halting your movements.

Matt let out a small, involuntarily whine as you stopped moving, his body protesting the lack of sensation. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire and frustration, but also with a hint of relief. He was so close to the edge, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

“I… I thought you would keep going,” he breathed, his voice a combination of disappointment and need.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you teased, your hand running down his chest, from his shoulder to his happy trail, before finally resting on the buckle of his belt.

Matt's breath hitched at your touch, your hand igniting a trail of fire on his skin. He watched as your hand moved down his chest, down his stomach, to the buckle of his belt. A wave of heat washed over him, making his entire body shiver with anticipation.

“Patience,” he echoed, his voice a rough whisper. “You're… You're killing me.”

You gently hooked your finger under the belt. “Can I?”

Matt nodded, his eyes locked on yours, his breathing shallow and ragged. He trusted you completely and wanted you to take whatever you needed from him. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “Do whatever you want. I'm all yours.”

“So good for me,” you praised before expertly unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans down.

Matt's heart leaped at your praise, a sense of pride and satisfaction filling him. He lifted his hips slightly, helping you pull his jeans down. He was now only in his boxer briefs, the material doing little to conceal his arousal. He was completely exposed, both physically and emotionally, and he could do nothing but lay there and look up at you, his desire for you burning in his gaze.

“Only for you,” he whispered, his voice a quiet admission.

“Already so worked up for me, huh?” you asked breathlessly, a small smile on your face.

Matt blushed at your comment, the heat spreading across his cheeks. He could feel the evidence of his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He was so worked up, so needy, so desperate for your touch. He swallowed hard, his voice husky and raw.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on yours. “Only for you. I want you so badly, sweetheart.”

You sat back on his lap, caressing his cheek. “You want to try to take off my bra, baby?”

Matt's eyes widened at your suggestion, a mix of excitement and anxiety washing over him. He'd never taken off a bra before, and he was suddenly unsure of himself. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“Yes,” he rasped, his voice betraying his nervousness. “I… I want to try.”

His hands moved to your back, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the clasp of your bra. He tried to steady his breathing, but his heart was racing, his mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings.

“I… I'll probably be bad at this,” he admitted, his voice a hesitant whisper.

“It's okay,” you assured him softly. “I don't mind.”

Matt nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He fumbled with the clasp for a few seconds, his fingers feeling both clumsy and inadequate. But finally, with a soft click, the bra came undone. The cups fell loose, revealing your bare chest to him. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his throat.

“Oh… Wow,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desire.

You smiled a little sheepishly.

Matt's eyes drank you in, every inch of your beautiful skin, every curve and contour. His hands were itching to touch you, to feel your flesh under his fingertips.

“You are… You are so exquisite,” he breathed, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and admiration. “You take my breath away.”

Noticing his hands twitching, your smile softened. “You can touch me.”

Matt couldn't believe you were actually giving him permission to touch you, to touch this beautiful woman who was willingly sitting on his lap, your body bare for him. He lifted his hands, his fingers hovering slightly above your skin.

“I… I want to,” he breathed, his voice a shaky whisper. He wanted to feel you so badly, but he was also afraid of doing something wrong, of upsetting you in some way. “Are you… Are you sure it's okay?”

“I am. Don't think so much. Just… Feel.”

Matt took a deep breath, allowing the words to sink in. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting go of the nagging thoughts and doubts in his mind. When he opened them again, his gaze was clear, his expression relaxed.

And then he touched you.

His fingers skimmed lightly over your skin, slowly, delicately, exploring the soft planes of your chest. A shiver ran through him as he felt the heat of your flesh, the suppleness of your skin.

“God, you're so soft,” he whispered.

Sensing that he was still holding back, You smiled softly and grabbed his hand, putting it directly on your breast, and gently squeezing his fingers.

Matt gasped, his breath hitching in his throat as your hand guided his. The feeling of your flesh, your breast, under his palm was almost too much. It was so soft, so warm. He could feel your heart beating rapidly under his fingers. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh God,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “This… This feels… Incredible.”

His fingers traced a slow, tentative path over your breast, his touch firm but gentle. He could feel your own heart hammering against his palm, a perfect rhythm. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

“Is… Is this okay?” he breathed, his voice a low, raspy whisper. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“It's okay,” you assured him softly. “I'll tell you if anything. Just… Touch me.”

Matt nodded tightly, the lump in his throat suddenly replaced by a wave of desire and need. He took your words to heart, letting go of any lingering doubt or fear. He allowed himself to really touch you, to move his fingers over your skin, to feel the contours of your body.

His other hand moved up to your other breast, gently kneading it in his palm. “Is… Is this good?” he whispered, his voice almost inaudible over the sound of his own heartbeat. “You feel… So perfect, so soft.”

You let out a shaky breath. “So good.”

Matt felt a sense of power and satisfaction wash over him, emboldening him. He could feel your breath catching in your chest, hear the hitch in your voice. He knew he was doing something right, something that made you feel good. He continued to caress you, his touch becoming more confident, more sure of itself.

His breath felt hot and heavy, his heart hammering against his ribcage. “Can I… Can I kiss these, too?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You felt a sudden rush of so much love for this boy. “Of course. Anything you want.”

Matt's heart soared at your permission, at the way you were giving yourself to him so completely. You were so wonderful, so understanding. He leaned forward, his lips coming to rest on your breast, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. He was gentle at first, his touch light and tentative. But then he began to kiss you more firmly, more hungrily.

And then, a moan of his name escaped your lips.

Matt's heart leaped at the sound of your moan, the way you said his name. It was like music to his ears. He pulled back slightly, looking up at you with a mixture of awe and desire.

“Did… Did I do something right?” he asked, his voice breathless and shaky. “The way you said my name… It sounded… It sounded like it felt good, like you liked it.”

“You're doing… Incredible,” you whispered breathlessly.

Matt felt a surge of pride and satisfaction coursing through him. He couldn't believe this was actually happening, that he was pleasuring this incredible woman, making you feel this way. But the knowledge that he was pleasing you, making you moan and breathless, only fueled his own desire, his own need for you.

He continued to kiss you, his mouth moving across your chest, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. “More,” he murmured, his voice low and ragged. “Can I… Can I do more?”

“Anything.”

Matt felt a wave of heat and adrenaline wash over him at your word, your permission. Anything? The possibilities, the desires, raced through his mind. He wanted to explore you, to touch you, to make you feel things you'd never felt before.

His mouth moved down your body, his tongue tracing a path down your sternum, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your stomach. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of need. “Can I… Can I taste you?”

You pulled yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He looked so pretty, looking up at you from between your thighs. But it was his first time, and you wanted to make it special do him. “Are you sure? I want it to be about you. You don't have to…”

Matt paused, looking up at you. Your concern for him, your consideration, made his heart swell. He could feel your gaze on him, warm and gentle. He knew you would never force him to do something he wasn't ready for. But he could also feel his own desire burning beneath the surface.

He nodded, his voice steady and sure. “I'm sure,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “I… I want to. I want to taste you. I want to please you… If you're okay with that.”

You nodded shakily, before bunching up the fabric of your skirt in your hands, pulling it down and revealing your little lacy panties.

Matt's eyes widened at the sight before him. Your panties were a beautiful lace, delicate and feminine. He could feel his mouth go dry, his heart quickening in his chest. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with an almost reverent awe.

His hands tentatively moved up from your thighs, tracing gentle patterns on your bare skin as they crept closer to your panties. “You're so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice laced with need and desire.

He leaned forward, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His hands were still tracing feather-light patterns on your thighs, but he was now just millimeters away from your underwear. His heart was hammering, his mind a cacophony of emotions and sensations. “May I… May I touch you there?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Please,” you whispered breathlessly, your chest already heaving.

Matt didn't need to be told twice. With a mixture of nerves and confidence, he let his fingers graze across the fabric of your panties, just touching the soft material. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the moisture already seeping through. He swallowed hard, his own body responding to the feel of you.

His gaze flicked up to your eyes momentarily, seeking reassurance, before returning to his task. “Is… Is this right?” he whispered, his voice a little shaky.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. “Perfect.”

Matt felt a rush of relief and satisfaction at your words. He was doing well, making you feel good. He continued to touch you, to move his fingers across the fabric of your panties, feeling the heat and the dampness beneath.

As his touch grew more confident, more assured, he found himself getting more and more excited. His own breathing grew shaky, his heart racing. “Can… Can I do more?” he breathed, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Whatever you want,” you mewled. “I'll tell you if anything.”

Matt's heart fluttered at your response. The trust, the permission, it was almost too good to be true. He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But all he found was love, desire, and a willingness to explore.

He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky. He moved his fingers down to the edge of your panties, toying with the thin strip of fabric. “I… I want to touch you without these in the way…”

He paused, waiting for your permission. He was already so close, already feeling the heat and dampness of your through the thin fabric, but he wouldn't do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire but laced with the need for your approval.

You nodded. “Do whatever you want.”

Matt felt a shudder run through him at your words. Your permission, your trust in him, it was like fuel for the fire that was burning within him. He gently pulled at your panties, guiding them down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

The sight of you, bare and fully exposed to him, was almost too much. His breath caught in his throat, and he had to force himself to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed. His fingers itched to touch you, to feel the smoothness and heat of your skin, but he waited, looking up for your nod of approval.

When you gave it, he moved quickly. His fingers traced a path up your thighs, moving closer and closer to your core. His own breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest, and he struggled to keep his hands from shaking as they got closer and closer to the most intimate part.

His fingers grazed over your skin, feeling the heat radiating off of you. He could feel the wetness there, the evidence of your arousal, and he couldn't help but shudder. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hungry, his tongue flicking out to moisten his suddenly dry lips.

“You're… You're so wet,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips.

Your breath hitched. “Only for you.”

His heart leaped at hearing your words, at the idea that he was the only cause of your arousal. He could feel the power and the responsibility that came with it, and it only stoked the fire within him.

His fingers were now tracing gentle circles around your entrance, his touch light and tentative. He couldn't believe he was doing this, touching you this way. “Can… Can I… Can I put a finger inside?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Yeah,” you whispered shakily. “Please.”

Matt could feel his breath catch in his chest at your words, at the desire in your voice. His whole body was trembling, almost overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment. He nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes fixed on you.

He gently, carefully, eased a single finger inside, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he felt your warmth and wetness around him. As he moved his finger, You suddenly let out a gasp.

Matt was instantly worried, his finger freezing in place. “Did… Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice full of concern. He looked up at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“N-No, it's just…” Your face flushed. “Your fingers are longer than what I'm used to.”

Matt felt a sudden rush of pride at your words, his chest swelling. He had to admit, he'd always been a bit self-conscious about his long thin fingers. But the idea that they were causing her pleasure, that they were giving her a feeling you weren’t used to, that felt incredible.

He curled his finger slightly, exploring your depth. “Is… Is this okay…?”

Your breath hitched as he reached that one spot, and you almost screamed out loud. “Oh my…”

Matt was surprised by your reaction, the sound you made nearly sending him over the edge. But he was determined to make you feel good, to make you feel better than you'd ever felt before.

He kept his finger where it was, gently applying pressure to that one spot, a smirk on his face. “Is this the right spot, hm?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt,” you mumbled in pleasure.

Matt couldn't help but smile at your reaction, at the way you responded to his touch. He couldn't believe he was doing this to you, causing you to feel these things. And he couldn't resist the urge to tease you a little bit.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his voice low and dripping with barely restrained desire.

“Add a second finger,” you instructed him softly. “And try to move them, curling them to hit that spot.”

At your instructions, Matt felt another wave of arousal wash over him. You were telling him what to do. You were guiding him, showing him how to please you. It was a new experience, but one he was more than happy to explore.

He obeyed, slowly adding a second finger to the first. The feeling was tighter, but also warmer. He began to move his fingers, just as you'd told him to.

The angle was a little clumsy at first, but then he felt that one spot, and he applied gentle pressure, curling his fingers at just the right angle. “Like…” he started, his voice a little breathless. “… like this?”

“Oh fuck…” you moaned, your back arching a little in pleasure.

Matt found himself breathing harder at the sight of you arching your back, at the way you were responding to his touch. He knew he was doing something right, and it only fueled his desire to please you more, to make you feel even better.

“Is… Is this good?” he asked, his voice a little shaky. “Does this feel good?”

“So good, fuck, so good…”

Matt's heart was racing, his breath coming in heavy pants. He loved hearing your praise, and the way you reacted to his touch. It was something he'd never felt before, and he wanted more, wanted to make you feel even better.

He kept his fingers moving and applying pressure, his gaze darting up to your face, watching your expressions. “I want you… I want you to feel… To feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of breathless and earnest.

Your noises of pleasure, your arches, and your moans, it was all driving him wild. He wanted to make you fall apart, to make you forget everything but him and whatever he was doing to you.

“You… You want to try to use your mouth?” you asked breathlessly in between the moans.

Matt's heart quickened at your request. He'd wanted to do that, too, but he hadn't been sure if you'd be okay with it. But now that you'd asked, he was more than happy to comply.

“Yes,” he responded, his voice hoarse with desire. “I… I want to. I want to taste you, too.”

He gently withdrew his fingers and slowly moved further down your body, his heart thudding in his chest. He settled between your legs, looking up at you as his breath came in hot, uneven pants against you.

As he tasted you, as he felt you against his lips, his tongue, his mind was overwhelmed. He hadn't expected this, but it was better than he'd ever imagined. You tasted sweet and tangy, and it only spurred him on.

He forgot about feeling out of his depth, he forgot about potential mistakes or awkward moments. All he wanted to do was pleasure you, to make you feel good. His tongue moved and explored, and his eyes fluttered up at you. He'd never seen you so undone, so lost in pleasure, and the knowledge that he was causing it only deepened his desire to please you more.

“God, you're so good at that,” you breathed out shakily.

Matt felt a wave of pride and pleasure wash over him at your words. He continued, his tongue moving over you, his lips applying gentle suction. Hearing your approval, feeling you respond beneath him, was intoxicating. But he was relentless, determined to bring you to the brink, to make you lose control completely.

His hands moved up, gently caressing your thighs and stomach, seeking to give you even more pleasure. He wanted you to feel good, to feel loved, to feel worshipped.

And eventually, your moans got even louder as you released on his mouth, his name on your lips like a prayer. Matt could feel your body shaking, could hear your voice as you cried out his name. It was a moment he knew he'd never forget, a moment that would be ingrained in his memory forever.

He slowly withdrew, crawling back up beside you. He couldn't seem to find his voice, his heart still hammering in his chest.

He was a little amazed at himself, too, he had to admit. He hadn't been entirely sure what he was doing, but he'd just seemed to know. He'd found a way to bring you pleasure, to send you over the edge, to make you sing his name like a song.

He found his voice again, his voice low, rough. “Was that… Was that good for you? Was I okay?” His heart was still beating fast, his body thrumming with a mix of adrenaline and pleasure.

“God, you're… You're unreal,” you panted out.

Matt couldn't help but smile at your words, the praise fueling his ego. “I… I am?” he asked, unable to hide the slight tone of smugness in his voice. He knew he should feel more humbled, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.

He reached out, gently tracing random patterns on your bare stomach as you caught your breath. “I just… I wanted to make you feel good,” he said softly.

When you came down from your high, you sat up to rest their foreheads against each other. “Are you sure you're ready?”

Matt's heart raced as you asked the question, his mind suddenly flooded with thoughts and worries. Was he ready? He had wanted this, more than anything, but now that the moment was here, he felt a twinge of fear.

He looked into your eyes, searching for reassurance. But all he saw was love, desire, and a willingness to wait if he wasn't ready yet.

He nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Yes,” he murmured. “I'm ready.”

In response, you locked their lips in a passionate kiss, one full of love.

Matt responded eagerly, his body pressing against yours as their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Every thought, every fear, was pushed aside in that moment. All that mattered was you, your breath, your lips, your bodies.

His hands found their way into your hair, tangling in the soft strands, holding you close. He poured all of his feelings, all of his desires into the kiss, his heart hammering in his chest.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as he felt your fingers slide under the waistband of his boxers, the sensation causing a shudder to run through his body. He'd been on edge ever since you'd started, his desire already at a fever pitch. But your touch, your gentle caress, only served to drive him wild.

He pulled back from the kiss to murmur against your mouth. “Please…” he whispered, his voice ragged and pleading. “Please, don't tease me anymore. I can't take it.”

You let out a shaky groan before pulling his boxers down, seeing him fully exposed for the first time. You took a moment to really take him in, your eyes full of awe and love.

Matt's cheeks burned under your gaze, feeling suddenly very exposed and vulnerable. He'd never been looked at this way before, never felt this vulnerable. But he also felt a wave of affection at the awe and love he saw in your eyes.

He met your gaze, his own eyes full of a mixture of desire and trepidation. “Is… Is it okay?” he asked softly, his voice betraying a hint of insecurity.

“You're so beautiful,” you praised breathlessly. “So perfect.”

Matt felt his heart soar at your words, the insecurities fading away and being replaced with a wave of intense love. No one had ever called him beautiful before, and certainly not perfect. He'd always felt a bit too thin, too gangly, too nerdy. But to you, he was beautiful, perfect.

He drew in a shaky breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So are you,” he murmured. “Perfect, I mean.”

You reached to gently caress his cheek. “Sit up against the headboard for me.”

At your request, Matt obeyed, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. He felt bare and exposed, but he trusted you and knew that you wouldn't do anything to make him feel uncomfortable.

His gaze met yours, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Like this?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.

“Perfect,” you praised before straddling his lap once again.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as you straddled him, your body pressing against his in all the right places. His hands found your hips, his fingers gently gripping them, as if he needed something to anchor himself.

His eyes roamed over your body, appreciating every curve and contour, before coming back up to meet your gaze. “You… You look amazing,” he breathed, his voice a little huskier than usual.

The corner of your lips went up as you rested your forehead against his, just looking into his eyes for a few moments. You were so close now, the heat and electricity between them palpable. Matt found himself getting lost in your eyes, feeling a sense of calm and understanding wash over him. He could feel your breath against his lips, your body pressed against his, and it was almost too much to bear.

He reached up a hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers feather-light against your skin. “I… I love you,” he whispered, the words coming out almost involuntarily.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, and your eyes reflected just how much.

Matt felt your words wash over him, the depth and sincerity of your love sending a shiver down his spine. He'd always known you loved him, but hearing you say it, seeing it in your eyes… It was as if all his fears and doubts vanished completely.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in, letting himself bask in your love. Then, his eyes opened again, his gaze intense, and he wrapped his arms more securely around your waist. “Show me,” he whispered. “Show me how much you love me.”

“You ready?” you made sure quietly.

Matt felt a flutter of nerves mix with the desire he was feeling, but he nodded, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter. “Yes,” he breathed in response, his voice a little shaky. “I… I'm ready.”

“If anything… Just tell me, and we can stop,” you promised.

Matt nodded again, appreciating your thoughtfulness. “I will,” he assured you. “But please… Please don't stop unless I say so.”

He drew you closer, his hands sliding up to your back, gently tracing the line of your spine. “I… I want this. I want you,” he murmured, his voice a low, earnest plea.

Matt shivered slightly as your hand moved over his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His heart was beating hard, his breath coming in shaky gasps. He'd never felt this alive before, this on edge, this desperate for your touch.

His eyes tracked your hand as it moved, a small, helpless noise escaping his lips. He knew what was coming, and he was aching for it.

Finally, your hand wrapped around him, giving him a few slow pumps. Your touch was like a spark to a flame, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't known was possible. He groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut as the sensations washed over him.

His hips involuntarily arched into your touch, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

“Oh… Oh God, that feels…” he gasped, his voice choked. “That feels so good,” he managed to stutter out, his words a raw expression of pleasure.

The feeling of your hand on him was overwhelming, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He could feel his body tensing and relaxing instinctively.

You positioned yourself above him, and you looked him in the eyes as if to ask for one last permission.

Matt's heart thudded in his chest as he looked into your eyes. He knew what was about to happen, and he wanted it, more than anything. He didn't want you to stop, he wanted you, all of you.

He nodded, his voice unsteady as he spoke. “Please,” he whispered, his breath ragged. “Please, don't stop.”

And then, you slowly started to sink down. The sensation was almost too much for Matt. It was like a wave of pleasure and heat overwhelming his entire body. He let out a low, guttural moan as you slowly sank down, inch by agonizing inch.

He clung to you, his hands gripping your hips with an almost bruising force. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted as he panted for breath. “Oh… Oh God,” he managed to say, the words a messy, incoherent jumble.

His mind was reeling, every thought driven out by the sheer intensity of the feeling. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, like nothing he could have imagined. You were warm, tight, and completely surrounding him, and it was everything.

He knew he was probably being too rough, too loud, but he couldn't help it. He was utterly lost in the sensations, losing himself in you. He was yours, totally and completely, and he loved every moment.

As you bottomed out, you rested your hands on his shoulders for support. “You okay, baby?”

Matt was trying to form words, to give some sort of response, but all he could manage was a series of ragged breaths and a nod. He was trying to ground himself, to stay in control, but it was nearly impossible.

He managed to open his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I… I'm… I'm okay,” he gasped out, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just… Just give me a second, please.”

You felt incredible around him, almost too good. He needed a moment to adjust, to find some sort of equilibrium, or he knew he'd lose himself completely.

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to steady himself. “You… You feel so… So good," he managed to get out between ragged breaths. He was struggling to find his voice, to express how he was feeling. “Just… Just give me a moment, please…”

“Of course. Take all the time you need,” you whispered, your hand gently caressing his cheek.

Your touch was like a soothing balm on his over-stimulated body. He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand, drawing in a shaky breath. He focused on the feeling of your fingers on his skin, your body surrounding him, anchoring himself to you. Slowly, the overwhelming sensations began to recede, replaced by a calmer, more controlled sense of pleasure.

He opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours. “I'm… I'm okay now,” he murmured. “You can... you can move now.”

You leaned in to press your lips against his before slowly starting to move your hips.

The feeling of your lips on his was like a jolt through his system, reigniting the fire that had been momentarily banked. He responded eagerly, his mouth moving against yours, his tongue caressing yours with an urgent need.

And then there was the movement of your hips. It was a gentle, careful circling motion, bringing him closer and closer to oblivion. Matt let out a guttural moan, his hands gripping your hips even tighter.

It was all too much, but he couldn't get enough of it. He felt like he was drowning in you, lost in the sensations of your body, your touch, your scent. He knew he was being loud, almost embarrassingly so, but he couldn't help it. He was completely yours, completely lost in you.

“Does that feel good, baby?” You asked breathlessly.

Matt could barely respond, too lost in the pleasure to string coherent words together. All he could do was nod, his voice choked off by a moan that tore its way from his throat.

He tried to form words, to tell you how good it felt, how incredible you were, but all that came out was a ragged gasp. “Y-yeah,” he managed to stutter out eventually, his voice hoarse. “Feels… Feels so good…”

You pressed their foreheads together before starting to move a little faster, moans escaping your own lips.

The change in speed made Matt's head spin. He felt like he was on the edge of an abyss, his body tensing and coiling with each move of your hips. He was a tangle of sensations, pleasure, need, and love, all swirling together.

He kept his eyes open, locking them with yours. Your moans, your ragged breaths, only amplified the sensations. He knew he was close, too close, but he didn't want it to end.

His hands left your hips, moving up to cradle your face in his hands. He needed to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingers, to hold onto you as he rode the wave of pleasure higher and higher.

“I… I'm close… I'm gonna… Oh God, I'm…”

You understood exactly what he meant, the urgency in his tone clear. Your movements became faster and more purposeful, pushing them both closer to the edge.

“I know, baby,” you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. “I know. Just let go. I've got you.”

Your words sent a shiver down his spine, the mixture of love and reassurance hitting him right in the chest. He wanted to hold on, to make this last as long as possible, but he knew it was impossible. He was on the edge, teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

“Baby…” he gasped, his voice thin and needy. “I… I'm… Oh God, I'm… I'm…”

He couldn't say the words, couldn't form the warning. All he could do was shiver as his body went rigid, waves of pleasure washing over him. He held onto you, his fingers digging into your flesh, as he rode out the aftershocks.

At the sensation of him releasing deep inside of you, you reached your climax as well, your back arching, and you let out a loud cry of his name. He felt you clenching around him, your own release as you cried out his name, and it was too much. He felt like he was being lifted into ecstasy, drowning in the sensations that swamped his body.

His hands moved to wrap around you, holding you close, feeling the tremors run through your body. He buried his face in the curve of your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Oh God… Oh God…” he managed to say.

“I… I've never… That was…”

He couldn't complete a sentence, his mind reeling from the intensity of it all. He held onto you, feeling the rapid throb of your heartbeat against his chest, the heat of your skin against his, and the sweat that had gathered on both their bodies.

After You finally caught your breath, you looked at him, still straddling him, as you ran your hand through his hair. “Are you okay, baby?”

Matt was still reeling, his body trembling slightly from the force of his orgasm. He leaned into your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raw. “I'm… I'm okay. I just… I need a minute. That was… Wow.”

“You were perfect,” you said softly before lifting yourself from him and falling onto the bed next to him.

He chuckled weakly, still struggling to catch his breath. “Perfect, huh? I'm pretty sure I yelled louder than you did. I think the whole neighborhood heard me,” he teased, half-joking and half-not.

You chuckled breathlessly. Matt, however, could only stare in wonder at how his seed was leaking out of you.

Matt couldn't tear his gaze away, his eyes fixed on the sight in front of him. He had never seen anything so intimate, so erotic. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers tracing the trail of his release dribbling down your skin.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered. “And I… I made a mess of you.”

Your breath hitched as he touched you, still oversensitive, but you didn't protest. He touched you delicately, his touch light and hesitant, as if he was scared to break the fragile moment. His gaze was filled with a mixture of awe and desire, staring at the evidence of what you have just shared.

“You… You look even more beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Like I've marked you as mine.”

“I am yours,” you whispered.

The words sent a wave of possessiveness through him. “Mine,” he repeated, his voice almost a possessive growl. “All mine.”

He leaned in, pressing feather-light kisses along your jawline, his hands tracing aimless patterns on your skin. “I don't want anyone else seeing you like this," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “I don't want anyone else touching you like I do. You're mine.”

He continued to mark your skin with kisses, his mouth moving along the length of your neck and down to your collarbone. He wanted to keep you like this forever, covered in his marks, in his scent. He knew he was being selfish, but he didn't care. You were his, and he wanted the world to know it.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tangling into his hair.

The feel of your fingers in his hair only served to make him more possessive. He continued to kiss and nip at your skin, leaving a trail of love bites down your neck and chest.

“Mine,” he repeated, his voice almost a mantra. He wanted to keep saying it, as if by repeating it, he could make it more true. “All mine.”

“So… I take that I made your first time good?” you asked, a little jokingly.

Matt chuckled huskily, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good is an understatement,” he said, his voice still rough with desire. “That was… Mind-blowing. Life-changing.”

He paused, his gaze roaming over your body again, taking in the sight of you covered in his marks. “I think you ruined me for anyone else.”

“Well, I sure hope so,” you murmured before kissing him again.

He responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours with a desperate, needy hunger. He rolled you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, continuing the kiss with a fervor. He didn't want this moment to end, he wanted to revel in the feeling of your body under his, the taste of your mouth, the scent of your skin.

Between kisses, he managed to mutter, “You're the only one. The only one I'll ever need.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re

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rizzkisworld · 1 month ago

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♡°Morning Kisses♡° - Nishimura Riki

pairing: fem!reader x bf!riki | wc: 1k | genre: fluff!!!

note: birthday fic for my lovely friend @yuniniverse !!!! (suprise for the other birthday girl later!!)

It was early in the morning, the soft glow of the sun beginning to creep through the curtains, casting a gentle light across the room. As you slowly awakened, the comforting rhythm of your boyfriend's soft breaths filled the air beside you.

His hair was tousled and messy, falling over his eyes, yet he still appeared breathtakingly beautiful in the muted morning light. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, captivated by the way his lips slightly parted as he slept, a peaceful expression resting on his face.

Turning your attention away from the sleeping figure beside you, you knew you needed to get up to prepare for classes. The thought of school weighed heavily on your mind because let’s be honest, it was a literal pain as usual. The endless assignments and early mornings felt overwhelming.

Yet, as you glanced back at your boyfriend, you remembered the way he always supported you, offering those sweet words that always made the tough days a little more manageable. It's something about his presence that always helped you through the tough times.

Anyways, the hardest part about getting ready was always the fact that Riki had a tight grip on you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. Every morning, you’d find yourselves tangled in the sheets, wrapped in each other’s warmth, and it was hard to resist the comfort of his embrace.

His arms felt safe, and the way he held you securely made it nearly impossible to break free without a hint of reluctance. You loved his cuddles, but right now, his grip was keeping you from moving in the slightest.

Slowly, you tried to gently remove Riki’s arms from around your waist, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. But as soon as you shifted, he instinctively pulled your body impossibly closer, as if he sensed your intention.

His warm breath tickled your exposed neck, sending delightful shivers racing down your spine, igniting a mix of warmth and frustration. “Baby.” you mumbled, caught in the soft haze of sleep and affection, unsure if you were trying to wake him up or simply savoring the sweetness of saying his name.

At this point, you knew the only way to get him to let go was to wake him up. “Riki.” You raised your voice just a tad, infusing it with a tone that was stern enough to hopefully wake him from his dreams.

Nothing happens. You call his name a few more times, hoping he wakes up. Finally, on the eighth call, he's awake, his eyes blinking slowly open. “Good morning, baby… what’s wrong?” he murmurs, his voice a delicious mix of sleepiness and depth that sends a flutter through you.

“I need to get ready for school. Can you let me go?” You turn your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. He takes a moment to process your words before he responds.

“I don’t know… can I?” he teases, a playful smirk forming on his lips as he notices your annoyed expression. A soft chuckle escapes him, adding to your annoyance. “Will you let me go?” You correct your grammar with a roll of your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“You know I can’t do that,” he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Then, as if to seal his playful defiance, Riki leans in, placing a tender kiss on your neck and trailing soft, lingering kisses up to your cheek. Each gentle press of his lips sends a wave of warmth through you, making it even harder to leave his embrace.

Each kiss was intimate, making you crave more and more of his lips on your skin. “Hm? Cat got your tongue?” Riki whispers playfully in your ear, his breath sending delightful shivers down your spine when he notices the silence that follows his teasing. You gather yourself, remembering what's important right now.

“I really need to get ready, though,” you say, pouting, knowing the effect that has on him. You know he can’t resist your cuteness, how every little gesture draws him in further. His eyes sparkle with affection as he takes in your beauty and you relish the way his gaze softens, knowing that you hold his heart in the palm of your hand.

“Okay, but under one condition,” Riki says, a playful spark lighting up his eyes. He caresses your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter, his fingers warm against your skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. With a gentle yet firm motion, he turns your entire body to face him, his gaze holding yours with intensity that sends your pulse racing.

He cradles your chin softly, ensuring you can’t look away, his touch both reassuring and intimate. “I need my morning kisses,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, filled with a playful urgency. Before you can even process his words, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and tender, yet it carries a hint of longing, as if each moment shared is a cherished secret. As he mumbles softly into the kiss, your only focus becomes him. The thought of school fades away as you gladly melt into the kiss.

Your lips collided with his, warmth coursing through your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. One of his hands found its way to your face, gently cupping your cheek, while the other stayed around your waist, making sure you had no chance of escaping.

The sensation of his soft pink lips on yours was intoxicating, a perfect blend of sweetness and flirtatiousness that felt as if the world around you had melted away. You were too far gone to care about the morning breath, all you wanted was him.

He broke the kiss, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jawline and then to your neck, each touch igniting a cascade of warmth inside you. When he looked back into your eyes, a tender smile graced his lips, illuminating the morning with an undeniable glow.

"I love you so much, pretty," he murmured, his voice a gentle caress that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. He leaned in for one last sweet kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that lingered long after he pulled away.

"I love you too," you whispered, your eyes locked with his, feeling as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you in that moment. "Have a great day, my love," he replied, the warmth of his gaze enveloping you, leaving you motivated to go on with your day.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 6 months ago

Note

A silly little idea but what if reader is asleep in the rec room because she's just so exhausted after mission days ago? And it's not just sleeping, you're literally hibernating. The four men have to check everywhere cause you're not in your room. First is Soap who find you. When he saw you're sleeping peacefully in sitting position on the couch (glad Price has changed that old dusty couch with the new one), he can't help but also feel sleepy, especially seeing how relaxed you are. So instead he joins in sleeping with you on your left side.

The next is Gaz who's been busy finding Soap and need his assistance. He also notices he hasn't met you since morning. When he found both of you snoring in the rec room, he smiled to himself and let the exhaustion take control over him. He's just gonna rest his eyes a bit okay. Now, he sits on your right side and close his eyes.

Ghost has been grumbling because the two sergeants now are absent in rookie's training. He immediately checked the rec room and what greeted him was something that made his heart warmed a bit. He found you, Soap and Gaz are snoring on the couch. Soap's on your left, his head leaning on your smaller shoulder. You're in the middle and Ghost just realized how youthful you're actually looking without too much stress or mental burden when you sleep. Gaz is on your right, his left arm tangles with yours. Ghost smiles behind his mask, pulling out his phone from pocket and snapping at least 10 pictures of you sleeping together. He can use this for the next threat or blackmail (but actually, he saves it for himself because you're just so adorable sleeping together).

As Ghost's about to flee from there, Price enter and sees the whole scene. He looks at Ghost with hint of amusement and shakes his head a bit. He gets out of the room right after telling him "Wake them up in 15 minutes" and Ghost nods.

Hello anon no this is not silly this is soooo cute 😩💖 Imagine them cuddling and sleeping like a pile of cats. They deserve the peace after so many troubles waiting for them. TYVM for sending this wonderful idea to me 🫡💖

TF141*F!Reader

Summary: you fall asleep on the couch in the rec room, and the sergeants joins your nap while Ghost and Price enjoying the scene

Each Other’s Shelter

“Bonnie?”

Soap opens the door to the rec room. He has been finding you, yet almost dug through the whole base, the last place he expects you will be in is the rec room. You aren’t someone who would fall asleep easily already, let alone sleeping outside your room. So when he sees your figure, sitting on the couch in a weird position that he doubts how you’re able to sleep like a bear hibernating and unbothered by all the noises, he’s sort of confused and amused at the same time.

He walks towards you, casting a shadow on your figure when he stands in front of you. You look so serene and young, your usual frown and stress-included expression vanishes when you’re deep in your sweet dreams.

“Bonnie?” He whispers again as he kneels.

You still don’t move or react even a bit, and he laughs quietly at your slightly agape mouth.

The mission you guys just completed a few days ago must have exhausted you to your limit, but he loves to see you like this, wandering in your own dreams without the mundane burden on your shoulders.

Soap lets out a big yawn which even surprises him, he thought he was quite energetic a few minutes ago, but he wouldn’t complain about the spell you secretly cast on him with your peaceful presence.

A short nap won’t kill him, right? He contemplates as he takes a seat on your left side, letting your bodies squeeze together that the warmth is flowing between, and drifts into the dream along you.

Gaz asks almost everyone whether they saw Soap or not, he really needs some help from the sergeant right now, and even you have not been seen since the morning, like you two just disappear from the base.

He almost starts forming the conspiracy theory that you two are playing hide and seek together and the winner will get the excessive one-slice cake stored in the fridge.

He’s feeling tired from the sore muscles and the lack of rest after the grueling mission. The whole team just straight back to work after dealing with those bullshits, he’s worn out, and surely you and Soap are the same as him when he enters the rec room and sees you snuggling on the couch.

Soap leans his head on your smaller shoulder compared to the team, and seems like you unconsciously scoot yourself to seek the heat beside you, as your head angles towards Soap’s too.

A little tranquil haven built by you two inviting him to join with its magically soothing comfort.

Just going to rest his eyes for a while, the papers can wait.

Telling himself and chuckling at your suddenly stuttered tiny snores, he sinks into the couch beside you.

Gaz smiles when he imagines you shooting daggers at him when he laughs at you for your adorable snores later, and lets the rest he longs for cocoon him from the chaotic world.

When one of the recruits asks him about his sergeants since they’ve been waiting for them and their training, but neither Gaz nor Soap shows up, Ghost just sighs and waves the recruit off, and goes on his way to search the little dorks.

He doesn’t stop and guess where they will be, he just heads to the rec room. His instincts and years with his teammates instruct him the whereabouts of them.

What Ghost doesn’t expect is you’re with them too, and he takes in the scene unfolding in front of him, the heartwarming vibes filling the room make him soften and curl the corner of his lips under his mask.

When was the last time he felt such overwhelmed by tenderness that his bad temper was conciliated? He lost count of it, but he knew only his team and his love could provide him with this relief.

He fishes out his phone and snapping you cuddling together like newborn bear babies. The photos capture the sight and freeze the gentleness wonderfully, from how you and Soap tilt towards each other, to the way your arm tangles with Gaz’s, fingers intertwined tightly like you are afraid to let go.

Ghost watches the exhaustion brings all of you to somewhere without having to worry. Of course he notices Gaz hits his limits after the mission even though he tries to hide it, and Soap is unaware of the need for rest which’s deep down his heart. You force yourself to keep going with tiredness chaining your ankles, ending up adding wrinkles in your brow these days. Now the vivid contrast reminds him how youthful you actually look, and he hopes the innocence can stay on your beautiful face longer.

Stepping backward in order to leave, Ghost halts when he hears the low huffs of laughter coming from behind.

“Price.” He calls the man narrowing his eyes and obviously enjoying what’s happening in the rec room just like him, and shakes his head feigning a resigned attitude. No words are exchanged between them, as they just want to admire the undisturbed view in silence.

“Wake them up in 15 minutes.” Ghost feels the reassured pat on his shoulder before the Captain exits the room with a lighter mood.

His eyes trail at Price’s figure until it becomes a dot from the distance, then turns back to the three of you still napping on the same spot without stirring.

Glancing at his watch to remind himself to wake up all of you, Ghost guesses 5 more minutes is acceptable, and he knows Price will agree with him.

a/n: Price ‘threatens’ Ghost to send him the photos btw

thx for reading, have a nice day/night :D!

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strangled-slytherin · 2 months ago

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In the quiet of night

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Summary: After a terrifying nightmare, Theo Nott comforts the reader, offering quiet reassurance and revealing a deeper emotional bond between them.

Trigger Warnings: Nightmares, mentions of trauma and helplessness, anxiety, emotional distress.

Theo Nott sat quietly in the Slytherin common room, his book resting on his lap, though he hadn’t turned a page in what felt like an eternity. The flames in the fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the walls, but his mind wasn’t on the text before him. His thoughts were somewhere else, drifting back to you.

It wasn’t often that he let himself think too deeply about what you meant to him. It was easier to act indifferent, to play the part of the quiet, brooding Slytherin who rarely showed his cards. But you had a way of pulling at the edges of his carefully crafted facade, making it harder and harder for him to keep his distance.

The faintest of sounds broke through his thoughts—a noise that was almost too quiet to notice. His brow furrowed as he sat up, his senses suddenly on alert. He strained his ears, listening for any indication that he had imagined it, but there it was again. A low, muffled sound that sent a chill down his spine. He knew that sound. It was the sound of someone in distress.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was coming from your room.

Theo was on his feet before he could think twice, the book abandoned as he crossed the common room in long strides. His pulse quickened, and his mind raced with worry. Had something happened? Was someone in there with you? He knew the nightmares had been plaguing you recently, but this felt different. This felt urgent.

He reached your door and hesitated for only a second before pushing it open, not caring about the possible consequences of barging into your space unannounced. The door creaked slightly, and the dim light from the hallway spilled into the room, casting an eerie glow on the scene before him.

You were thrashing in your bed, tangled in your blankets as if you were trying to fight your way out of them. Your face was pale, your brow furrowed in distress, and a thin sheen of sweat coated your skin. You were muttering incoherently, your voice low and panicked, and Theo could see the fear etched into your features even though you were still asleep.

He had never seen you like this before. You were always so composed, so strong. To see you this vulnerable, trapped in your own mind, sent a wave of protectiveness crashing over him.

"Y/N," Theo called softly, his voice low and soothing as he approached the bed. You didn’t respond, your body still caught in the throes of whatever nightmare had its grip on you. He knelt beside the bed, hesitating for a moment, unsure of how to wake you without startling you further.

He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you the lightest of shakes. "Y/N, it's alright. You're safe. Wake up."

Your eyes flew open with a sharp intake of breath, wild and unfocused as if you weren’t entirely sure where you were. For a moment, Theo’s heart clenched as he saw the fear still lingering in your gaze. But then your eyes met his, and the panic began to ebb, slowly giving way to recognition.

"Theo?" Your voice was small, barely a whisper, as if you were afraid speaking too loudly would break the fragile silence between you.

"I'm here," he said softly, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "You're safe now. It was just a dream."

You blinked, your breathing ragged as you tried to calm the frantic beating of your heart. The room felt suffocating, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to the edges of your mind like dark shadows that refused to be banished. You sat up slowly, running a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling slightly.

"I… I didn't mean to wake you," you murmured, your voice thick with embarrassment and exhaustion. "It was just another nightmare."

Theo frowned slightly, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you. "You don't have to apologize for that. You didn’t wake me—well, not exactly." He studied your face, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. "You've been having them a lot lately, haven't you?"

You nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah… more than usual. I thought they’d go away, but…" You trailed off, your voice cracking slightly. "They're just getting worse."

Theo’s chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in your voice. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—so open, so fragile. It made him want to pull you into his arms and protect you from whatever was haunting you, but he knew better than to push too hard. He had to let you come to him, had to let you decide if you wanted to share.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked after a moment, his voice soft, nonjudgmental. He wasn’t the best at comforting people, but for you, he’d try.

You shook your head at first, biting your lip as you tried to keep the tears at bay. "It's stupid," you whispered, your fingers twisting in the blankets as if grounding yourself.

"It's not stupid if it's keeping you up at night," Theo replied gently. "Whatever it is, it’s real enough to you. And I’m here to listen. No judgments, I promise."

You glanced at him, and for the first time since you woke up, you really looked at him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration or worry, and his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. He was always so guarded, so careful not to let his emotions show, but right now, there was nothing but concern written across his features.

Taking a shaky breath, you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "It’s just… ever since that incident last year, I’ve been having these dreams. Nightmares, really. They start off fine, but then… something happens, and I’m back in that place. Back in that moment." Your voice wavered, and you paused, trying to collect yourself.

Theo didn’t rush you, didn’t press for details. He simply waited, his hand still resting on your arm, his presence grounding you as you found the strength to continue.

"I keep reliving it," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper now. "The fear, the helplessness… it feels so real. And no matter how hard I try to wake up, I can’t. I’m trapped in it, over and over again."

Theo’s jaw tightened, a flash of anger sparking in his eyes—not at you, but at the idea of you suffering like this. He hadn’t known how bad it had been for you, how deeply the events of the past year had affected you. You’d always been so good at hiding your pain, at pretending like everything was fine. But now, seeing you like this, he realized just how much you’d been carrying on your own.

"You don’t have to go through this alone, you know," he said quietly. "You’ve been carrying this weight for too long."

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. "I didn’t want to burden anyone with it. Especially not you.

Theo let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Burden? Y/N, you’re not a burden. I care about you. More than you realize."

Your eyes widened slightly at his words, your heart skipping a beat. Theo wasn’t the type to openly express his feelings, but in this moment, there was no denying the sincerity in his voice.

"I care about you too," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. Finally, Theo shifted, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"From now on," he said softly, "if you wake up like this, you come find me. Or I’ll find you. But you’re not going through this alone anymore, alright?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Alright."

And in that quiet moment, with Theo sitting beside you, the darkness that had once seemed so suffocating didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore.

#theo nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #nightmare comfort #slytherin boys #slytherin #strangled-slytherin #fluff #angst to fluff #reader insert #protective Theo #Harry Potter imagine #theodore nott

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revasserium · 10 months ago

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lads #1 - the first kiss

xavier.

it is a soft brushing of lips on lips, eyes closed — a moonless night, dark enough to cast your dreams like a handful of dice against the velvet sky — he prays as you shift against him, and like this, he can count the individual stars caught in your symphony of lashes; he wants to sink into your milkyway laughter as you fist your fingers in the front of his shirt and tug him closer, and then it is no longer a dream but a reality too good to be true because there, those are your lips — your lips against his and his against yours and there is too much breath and not enough skin; there is heat, and heat, and heat as it crests up his back and into his chest, his fingertips tingling as he reaches up to cup the bend of your jaw; it is you sighing into him, the taste of your smile on his tongue when he presses in and feels you gasp — when he pulls back, you are blushing, the darkness in your cheeks probably mirrored in his own, and he can’t help the way his gazes flickers from your eyes down to your lips, now pink and sweet and so — “did you… did you mean to do that?” you ask, a little breathless, and for the life of him, xavier wants to take you and shake you by your shoulders because how could you think he hadn’t meant it? when every single atom in his entire body is vibrating with the need to pull you in one more time; instead, he lilts his head to the side and sighs, “well, if you couldn’t tell that time — shall we give it another try?”

zayne.

you are in his bed. you are in his bed and the world is pressing in around him as he counts your breaths, watching the flicker of your eyes beneath your squeezed-tight eyelids but he humors you enough to reach out and trace a finger along your cheek just to watch your lashes flutter, your lips twitch and he can’t help the way his own lips stretch into a knowing grin, “you shouldn’t lie to your doctor, you know.” to which you make a vague, mumbling sound, but you don’t shift away and zayne feels the pulse gathering between you like it’s done so many times before, each time the feeling echoing against the last, stronger and stronger until it becomes something like a compulsion — “what would it take for you to go to sleep properly?” he asks, his voice hoarse as you press your lips, sinking deeper into his sheets, finally peering up at him with those inescapable eyes. “maybe… a kiss goodnight?” he feels his breath catch in his throat at your words, not because he thought he’d never hear them, but because he never thought it would happen like this — how times had he imagined it throughout the years? how many mundane and dramatic moments playing out in the depths of his most secret imagination? but then again, he thinks that this is perfect too, because it’s you — so how could it not be. he bends down, tugging your chin towards him as he presses his lips firmly to yours, reveling in the small, surprised noise you make in the back of your throat; he tries not to think about the thin sheets separating your body and his, or the way your fingers are already tangling in his hair and pulling him close; he forces himself to pull away, swallowing hard. “there.” you blink dolefully up at him and pout, “y-you can’t expect me to go to sleep after a kiss like that!” he cocks an eyebrow, “can’t i? i kept my end of the deal, and now you have to keep yours.” but he allows himself a small smile as you huff and twist away from him, mumbling to yourself even as he shifts closer, pulling you into his chest as he closes his eyes and sleeps.

rafayel.

all he can think is that it’s different from the first time, because the first time, it hadn’t been a real kiss — even though it’d been real enough for him to lose his heart, real enough for it to have been lost for years and years and years — because the first time, it had been so, so innocent — and it’d been done over linked pinkies and a promise, him leaning down to kiss the base of his thumb and you, leaning down to mirror the movement — a promise, sealed with a kiss. because promises sealed with kisses can never be broken. but… you’d broken it, hadn’t you? or maybe he had — but something had broken, and it took him a long, long time to realize that it just might’ve been his heart. but this time, you’re both older, and you hadn’t waited, you’d stood up on your tip toes and pressed your lips right against his, and it was all he could do to close his eyes and kiss you back — distantly, he feels something breaking inside him, and he wonders — again — if it’s his heart, and he wonders, then, if a heart could be broken twice, and if the second time might be a mending instead. he leans down and crushes you to him, all propriety forgotten as he groans, desperate for more of that friction, more of that heat — he sinks his fingers into your waterfall hair and cradles your head against his, and he loses himself in the kiss. in a promise made, and unmade, and made again. when you finally pull away, he licks his lips and smirks, “took you long enough.” and he’s more pleased than he’ll ever admit to see the color flushing into your cheeks, and serves you right he thinks — but as you lace your fingers between his and tug him behind you towards the main street, asking if he wants to come over for dinner and the next episode of that one show you guys had started together, he thinks that even a heart broken twice could find its way to forgiveness — if only after another kiss or two.

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fvsm4x · 3 months ago

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Loser/nerdy gf x fratboy gojo satoru

You sat at your small desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose as you diligently studied for your upcoming exam. The desk lamp cast a warm, focused light, creating a cozy bubble of concentration.

Gojo Satoru lay sprawled out on your bed, flipping through his phone, but his attention kept drifting to you. He admired the way you bit your lip when you were deep in thought and the way your hair fell across your face. He had promised to give you space to study, but every minute felt like an hour, and he was growing increasingly impatient.

“You,” he called softly, hoping to catch your attention.

“Hmm?” you responded, not looking up from your notes.

“You’ve been studying for hours. Don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

You glanced at him briefly, giving him a small smile. “I just need to finish this chapter, Satoru. It’s really important.”

He pouted, rolling over onto his stomach to face you. “But I miss you,” he said, his voice taking on a playful whine.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you tried to focus on your textbook. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’m just a guy who misses his girlfriend,” he murmured, sliding off the bed and walking over to you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, gently massaging them. “Can you blame me?”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you tried to ignore the way your heart sped up. “Satoru, I really need to—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both tender and demanding. Your protest melted away as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. The pen you had been holding fell to the desk, forgotten, as you responded to his touch.

“Baby…” he whispered against your lips. “You need a break.”

You laughed softly, turning in your chair to face him. “You’re not going to let me study, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a grin, capturing your lips again. This kiss was more intense, more urgent. He lifted you from the chair, carrying you over to the bed with ease.

Your hands roamed over his back, your fingers tangling in his hair as your kisses grew more passionate. He laid you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, finding that sensitive spot that made you gasp.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling “I really need to study.”

“Just a little longer,” he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress your sides. “Then you can go back to studying.”

You sighed, knowing you were powerless to resist him. And truth be told, you didn’t want to. You pulled him closer, your lips finding his in a kiss that conveyed everything you felt for him. Your tongues danced together, a perfect rhythm that left you both breathless.

Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the world outside fading away as you lost yourselves in each other. Gojo’s hands roamed over you, his touch igniting a fire within you. You arched into him, your body responding to his every move.

You broke apart for a moment, both gasping for air. Gojo looked into your eyes, his own filled with a mix of adoration and mischief. “I love you, you know that?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you too, Satoru. But I really do need to study.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping onto his back beside you. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

You laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With one last lingering kiss, you reluctantly pulled away and returned to your desk. As you settled back into your studies, you felt his eyes on you, a constant reminder of his presence and his love. And though you tried to focus, the warmth of his kisses and the promise of more to come lingered in the back of your mind, making you smile.

<- gojo s. masterlist | more loser gf x fratboy gojo ->

#♫ ㆍ wrt ㆍ #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x you #fratboy gojo

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sunnymoonxx · 4 months ago

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❝he turns me scarlet❞ | qimir x reader, 1

pairing: qimir x reader

summary: qimir decides to test your loyalty, playing with your mind, testing it, see how long it would take for you to break.

warnings: english is not my native language, dark undertones!+18, cnc hints, blood, sexual innuendo, mind tricks, soft somnophilia, mental torture, improper use of force, physical violence, toxic relationship, yandere behaviour

part 1: this is more of a little foreplay, stay tuned for part 2

a/n: we don't know much about qimir's character yet so let's just pretend this is well written

now playing, desert rose by lolo zouaï

You stumbled through the dense undergrowth, your breath visible in the frigid air. The trees loomed tall and foreboding, their skeletal branches forming a tangled web above your head. You were lost, alone, and cold. Your hands trembled as you clutched your tattered cloak tighter around you, every nerve on edge.

"Master?" you called out, your voice a thin thread of sound swallowed by the forest. There was no reply, only the eerie silence of the woods. Suddenly, a drop of crimson splashed onto your cheek, warm and sticky. You raised your hand to wipe it away with trembling fingers, your heart pounding in your chest. Blood.

More drops followed, a relentless rain of blood falling from the sky. You gasped, the metallic scent overwhelming your senses. The trees offered partial shelter, their branches catching some of the blood, but you could feel it seeping through your cloak, chilling you to the bone. Panic surged through you as the blood pooled around your feet, soaking the forest floor.

You scanned the area, your vision blurred by fear and confusion. Then, through the crimson haze, you saw them. Two figures lying on the ground amidst the torrent of blood. One was your master, Qimir, his dark robes drenched, his body motionless. Your heart dropped seeing him like that. Your feet almost moved towards his direction before the second figure caught your eye. She was a civilian, a young woman, equally drenched and shivering, her eyes wide with terror. Your heart started racing against your chest bone.

The blood fell heavier, a deafening roar filling your ears. You looked from Qimir to the woman, your mind reeling. The woman's eyes pleaded with her, filled with fear and desperation. Your fear mirrored in her, but you forced yourself to focus. Your thoughts raced. The civilian was innocent, a life worth saving. But Qimir was your master, the one who had trained you, who held your future in his hands.

I cannot abandon him.

You took a step towards Qimir, and your decision was made. As you moved, the blood rain slowed, and the surrounding forest began to dissolve. Suddenly, everything vanished. You found yourself falling, tumbling through a black emptiness, with nothing but darkness surrounding you. The sensation of weightlessness consumed you, your mind spinning with disorientation and fear. With a jarring thud, you landed on your legs in a vast, dimly lit hall. The air was thick with an oppressive energy, the walls adorned with menacing, ancient symbols. Flickering torches cast eerie shadows, their flames dancing to an unseen rhythm. The hall seemed to pulse with a dark life of its own, and your breath caught in your throat.

Good.

You flinched as you heard an enchanting voice in your head. Master. You nodded, acknowledging his praise, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. The blood, the forest, the woman - all gone. Like a nightmare dissipating in the morning light.

~~~

His dark figure stood in the dimly lit chamber, his imposing silhouette casting long shadows on the cold, metallic walls. His eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on you, lying in your bed, your breathing steady and peaceful. In sleep, you seemed so vulnerable, a stark contrast to the fierce warrior you were now in your dreams.

He moved closer, his presence almost ghost-like. Gently, he sat down next to you on the bed, his fingers tracing the scars on your arms, each mark a testament to your trials and sacrifices you made for him. The pale light accentuated the lines and curves of your figure, and he couldn't help but admire the strength you exuded, even in repose.

As he gazed at you, a complex mix of emotions stirred within him. Pride in your achievements, a deep connection to your struggles, and a pool of mistrust. You always chose him in your hallucinations, always saved him, always sacrificed innocents for him. But those were dreams, illusions he put in your mind to test you. Like the one he was applying now. Dark foggy forest, overflowing with blood. Would you choose him in real life?

The question kept dancing around in his head as his fingers traced your forearm down to your waist. You didn’t bother to lay under a blanket, this night was warm. His thoughts reached a deeper part of his mind, a small smile appearing on his lips. He could easily kill you right now. You were so vulnerable in your sleep. He could do anything, and you would have no choice but to let him.

His fingers traced down the scar on your torso, aware he killed the person who gave it to you. Your body reacted to his touch, but your mind didn't, as you kept lying down, forced to be tested by his illusions even in your sleep. He had complete control of your mind right now, your body left unguarded. He let his fingers dance on your exposed skin, admiring you, wanting to be close to you.

His fingers felt the skin of your thighs, your shoulders, your neck, your stomach. He touched every scar, every mark, every imperfection. He liked to play with your hair, pushing them away from your face.

When he first met you, you were nothing. A former jedi. A failure. Then you found him. He took you in and trained you. Formed you.

He wasn’t just training you to be an exceptional force wielder. He was training you to be his. He enjoyed being known by you, protected by you, and one day maybe even loved by you. He was never going to let you go. You saw his face. You knew his soul. You touched his heart. He was prepared to kill you if you ever chose a path on which he didn’t stand.

~~~

You awoke the next day, disoriented and shivering with goosebumps from a lingering sense of unease. The comfort of your bedroom provided little solace against the remnants of your nightmare—visions of a blood-flooding forest that had felt all too real. Your mind was so focused on the frightened dream that you failed to notice the remaining shadow left over by your master.

Rising from your bed, you began your morning routine, determined to shake off the dread of the night and prepare for whatever mission your Qimir had in store for you. You moved with purpose, your mind already focusing on the tasks ahead, hoping to regain your composure and strength. As you stood in front of the mirror, still clad in your robe, you reached for your clothes, your thoughts momentarily drifting to the intense training you knew awaited you.

You didn't even hear the door creak open, nor did you sense the immediate danger.

Beginners mistake.

Suddenly, without warning, strong hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your breath. You gasped, your eyes wide with shock as you were slammed against the cold, unyielding wall. Panic surged through you. Struggling against the iron grip, your hands clawing at the attacker's wrists, trying to break free.

Their face was obscured by a hood, their grip unrelenting. Your vision started to blur, but you fought to stay conscious, your mind racing through the techniques you had learned.

Drawing on your training and the power of the Force, you focused your energy, pushing back against the darkness closing in around you. With a burst of strength, you drove your knee into the attacker's abdomen, loosening their grip just enough to create a small gap. You twisted your body, breaking free and dropping to the floor, gasping for air. Scrambling to your feet, you assumed a defensive stance, ready to face this unexpected threat. Your eyes locked onto the figure before you, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick with the promise of violence.

You fought with all your might, but the intruder's strength was overwhelming. Their struggle intensified, the room echoing with the sounds of their violent clash. You landed several blows, but each time you thought you had gained the upper hand, he countered with brutal efficiency.

Desperation surged through you as you found yourself pinned to the ground, your arms restrained, the cold floor pressing against your back. You strained against his grip, but he was too powerful. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the effort.

Fuck.

As you struggled against his grip, the room filled with a palpable tension. Each movement was a desperate attempt to break free, but the man's overwhelming strength held you firmly in place. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your body trembling from the exertion and adrenaline.

It was in the midst of this struggle that a realization began to dawn on you. The brute strength, the familiar scent, the unmistakable energy—it could only be one person. Your body tensed even more as recognition flooded your mind, a torrent of confusion and disbelief mingling with a rush of other, more complicated feelings.

"Master?" you whispered more to yourself, your voice barely audible, choked with a mixture of shock and something else you couldn't quite name.

Qimir's hood fell back, revealing his stern, unyielding face. His eyes bore into yours, a storm of dark intensity that made your heart race. The shock of seeing him, of knowing it was him all along, sent your thoughts spiraling.

Your mind reeled. The realization brought with it a flood of memories and images, some of them inappropriate, crossing the line between master and apprentice. You tried to push them away, but they only made you more aware of the heat of his body, the firmness of his grip.

What are you doing?

You desperately asked through the force, unable to form words from the shock. You were frozen, lying on the ground, Qimir's knees crushing your thighs, his firm arms holding your hands above your head. His intense eyes hiding behind the curtain of his dark waves, but you could see the smirk playing on his lips. You saw the smirk many times, and it never ended well.

"Do you yield?" he spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel his grip on your wrists getting stronger, feeling your bones crush against each other. You couldn't help but let out a moan, the pain forming black dots before your eyes. He was so close, his body almost resting on yours, his face only a breath away. Under different circumstances, you'd enjoy this. But as he kept crushing your wrists together, your mind was only focused on the pain.

"I asked you a question." You almost didn't hear him, trying to hold back the tears forming in your eyes. You didn't cry because of his firm voice but because of the pain, he was inflicting on you. His knees digging into your flesh, his nails ripping your skin open on your wrists and pushing your bones together. You injured way worse, but your master, being the giver of this pain, brought it to another level.

You didn't answer for a while, and you realized that his hands left your crimson wrists to lay above your head alone to put them around your neck. Your hands were so paralyzed that you couldn't even use them to try to push him away. Instead, you let his fingers curl around your neck, stealing the air from your lungs.

"You really won't protect yourself?" He whispered against your cheek as if to mock you. His lower body pressed against yours as he held his upper body up, your neck as his support. "You're going to let me do this to you?" His tone was softer but still humiliating. He was your Master. You were certain this was one of his tests. To test your endurance, your breaking point. Your loyalty. You were loyal to him, but not out of love or care. Fear kept you loyal.

But you knew there was a hidden second reason why you stayed. Why you stay nights awake, excited to see him again, for him to test you again. But you didn't want to accept that.

He liked it. The way he made you shake with terror, fear, and confusion. He enjoyed the power he had over you, but at the same time, he also wanted you to be his equal, his friend. But he knew your feelings towards him. You never considered being his equal. He terrified you. He played mind tricks on you. You were scared. No matter how gentle or soft-spoken he was outside of training hours. Your head was horrified, your heart uncertain, your body, welcoming.

He was aware of the effect he had on you. He smelled it every time he even looked your way. He smelled it now. The way you tensed. One could argue that fear played a role in your stiffness. True. Partially. He sensed everything that was happening in your room, and every night you had a training routine together, you hid in your room, filled your head with images of him, and traced your body with fingers that you wished were his.

He smelled your needs, felt your skin get hotter, the sweat dripping down your forehead. Many times, he wanted to open those doors to your room and give you that for which you were so ashamed to wish. Instead, he used the force, meditating in his room, watching you through the walls, amplifying your pleasure.

You sometimes thought as if you felt another hand, touching yours, pushing you to go further. You felt the warmth, felt it in places only you touched.

"Very well," you heard him murmur to himself before putting all his strength into his hands wrapped around your neck. If he wanted to, he could kill you right now. You were at his mercy. You couldn't move your legs, your hands were recovering from bruised bones, and your body pressed by his against the cold stone floor. You were ashamed you secretly enjoyed the proximity.

"Pl-" you failed to form even a few words as he slowly took all your air supply. His eyes scanning your reactions, watching you carefully, every breath, every small movement. Like a hunter watching his prey. But you didn't count as a prey anymore. You didn't run, you were already served on a golden plate for him.

"You thrive on pain and fear." he leaned in closer to you, his hands softening his grip around your neck, letting a small dose of air run through you. But he didn't let go. You could feel his lips against your ear, his breath, his hair tickling your nose. You could feel the heat of his body, The Force letting you see the colors of his thoughts, up close. Your body tensed, the hunger slowly reaching out for you too.

"You like the torture," he whispered into your ear, scaring you as he quickly rose up, sitting steadily on your hips and raising one hand, leaving only his left one around your neck. Your frozen arms slowly recovered as you managed to pick them up, instinctively wrapping them around his hand that kept suffocating you. He didn't move a muscle and watched you struggle underneath him. You could never overpower him. You weren't stupid enough to believe that, but you didn't want him to see you not try.

"You must learn how to master them." he continued, a psychotic smile on his face as his other hand slowly rested against your chest. "Use them as your tools." You felt his fingers making small circles below your collarbones, his touch sending goosebumps around your body.

After a while, you noticed you never once felt the familiar darkness around you. He kept you on the edge, knowing where exactly to place his fingers on your neck. To cause you enough pain, to make you quiver but never to let you fall over the horizon.

"Was that you?" You tried to let out, to ask him, confirm that the dream of the blood storm was his work, but instead, it sounded like a cat squeaking. “The dream.”

“Hmm,” was all he let out, his eyes scanning your body up and down.

It wasn’t the first time you caught him doing that, but never under circumstances like this. Never when he held you down, pressing himself against you, letting you feel all his curves and edges. Not when you were at his disposal.

His captivating eyes found yours again, reading your thoughts as if they were written in black ink on a white paper. You were transparent to him, no imagine managed to slip underneath him. As if you were bare. The grin on his face told you all you needed to know.

“I don’t trust you,” he whispered, digging his nails into your neck, forcing you to cry out. “Well, not fully.” The way you struggled beneath him was amusing to him. If he could, he’d let you struggle below him every day, every hour for a different reason. “I wanted to test you.”

“I killed- for you.” You breathed out, trying to push his hand away as you slowly regained your strength in your arms. But he didn’t move an inch. “I, serve only you.”

“Yeah?” you heard him purr, totally forgetting about his fingers reaching the top of your robe, right between your breasts. Your heart skipped a beat feeling him so close, not daring to look him into his eyes. You felt his fingers push into your flesh; his fingers alone strong enough to leave a mark. The pressure hurt but not as painful as the one around your neck. “Your heart is saying otherwise.” He uttered under his breath, his fingers bending, going underneath your robe.

“Why are you lying. Don’t lie.” He added, shaking his head, his eyes soft. He almost looked pitiful. “Why are you so scared.” His voice was low, gentle even. His hand around your neck loosened, letting you gasp a cough for air. He waited for you to welcome the air into your lungs before pushing your head back on the ground by your hair. He forced your head against the floor so hard, you were sure for one second, you’d lose consciousness. Fortunately, he kept you awake, healing any of your injures with The Force.

“What are you so scared of?” he asked gently, still holding your head back, accidently grinding on you as he leaned in, his face right above yours. You could feel his breath, tickling your skin. His plumb lips so close to yours, so pink, so desirable. He was ethereal.

“That,” you squeaked, stopping as his hands reached the tie of your robe, painfully slowly trying to untie it. His response was raised eyebrows, his eyes going up and down your eyes and your lips. You struggled more with breathing now than you did mere seconds ago. “That I won’t be good enough for you.” You managed to let out, closing our eyes out of embarrassment.

Not being good enough. Your fear ever since you were born. Not enough for your mother, for your father, for your brother, for your friends. For him. You had no one else left, but him and you were scared you were going to lose him too.

Qimir stopped his movement, his eyes stopping, staring right into yours. You felt a warm touch on your face, his fingers making slow circles on your red cheeks. As you stared back into his eyes you swore, you’d volunteer to drown in them. You imagined they’d taste like dark chocolate. His lips like strawberries. His skin like black cranberries.

His lips formed a small smile as he caressed your face gently.

“Let’s see about that, shall we.”

#qimir fic #qimir smut #qimir x reader #qimir #qimir the acolyte #osha x qimir #star wars smut #starwars #star wars #star wars fic #reader insert #smut

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