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helplesslypurple77 · 1 month ago

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Day 6-Cumming in Pants-Illumi/Reader

Notes: I have never actually sewed a mens suit, because 1. Tailoring is REALLY FUCKING HARD and finicky as hell 2. I'm a woman who has no need for one, and 3. I hate sewing mens clothes their boring

Anyway, enjoy. Also btw 70,000 jenny is about 700 usd

also title is from 'English Love Affair' by 5sos

...

As a seamstress located in Yorknew city, you got a large volume of clientele. Be it wealthy businessmen wanting a high quality suite or spoiled princesses shopping for their next dress, you pride yourself in your high quality work and your range of designs. You made sure to treat each and every patron of your business with respect, even the strange characters you often received. Because of course, as the wealthy clients wore their clothes to gatherings, you gained a reputation for your quality and openness. And of course, the odd ones took notice.

The first hunter you had ever tailored clothes for had been kind of normal, only requiring a special waterproof fabric. But the weirdness had increased and increased and now you regularly got a parade of weird guests after weird guests.

From simple garments that required special skills or fabrics, to gravity defying outfits that any designer would turn down, you took them all. At a handsome price, of course.

It was raining. Thunder rattled the glass windows of your shop, rain hitting them so hard you worried for a moment they might break. It was dark outside, the blackness only momentarily illuminated by flashes of lightning. You hummed along with the headphones in your ears, carefully cutting the black fabric laid across your cutting table. Cutting was probably one of your least favorite parts, but it was ok right now, the music in your ears and the rain a faint lovely sound on your windows.

Your shop and studio were the same, situated in a nice part of town. Your shop was in a pleasant little street, filled with mom and pop shops and cafes, and off the beaten path far enough that you might half to know where to look. You weren't looking to incur any damages, and you especially didn't want robbers or crime near your precious creations. You did have a hunter's license, in order to hunt certain types of hides, and you were moderately powerful and would be able to protect yourself in a bad situation, but you didn't like fighting. You would prefer it if you didn't have to defend yourself at all.

Rain hits the long windows of your shop with a loud pattern, thunder cracking in the background. You humm, a calm russian pop playing through your airpods, dancing around your cutting table. You have certain songs you like playing during rain storms, just to give the right vines. Right now your favorites are В последний раз, and Goodnight Moon—

Your front door opened with a slam. You jump, one of your airpods falls out of your ear and onto the cutting table. A figure stands in your doorway. The figure is tall, with long flowing hair flipping wildly in the wind. Rain hits the hardwood floor a few feet in front of him and you push your shock and fear away and glare at the stranger.

“Can I help you?” You say, standing tall and crossing your arms. “You're getting rain all over my floors.”

The man tilts his head, backlit by the lightning, but you can kind of make out his face. He has pale skin, and big dark eyes, as dark as the night behind him. After a moment of consideration, he steps forwards into the light, letting the door close behind him.

You bend down, picking up your airpod and carefully putting both of them away before you can lose them.

The man in your doorway doesn't attempt to shake himself dry or remove the wet hair soaking water on the princess sleeves of his odd green outfit. It takes you one careful look over him to realize he's a hunter. The one lesson you’ve learned in your work with hunters over the years is not one of them dresses normally. Fastest way to spot a hunter in public is to look for the person wearing a discount spirit Halloween jester outfit or wearing what could only be described as a tree cutout robbed straight from a middle school play.

The man in the doorway tilts his head.

“You are a seamstress.” He says. It takes you a moment to realize that was a question. “You were recommended to me by my father.”

“I am a seamstress, yes.” You say, eyeing him carefully up and down. “But I'm closed right now.”

“Oh,” The man says, and then continues to stand still as a statue a few feet in front of your door. He looks a bit like a drowned kitten with big black eyes, surrounded by long black hair that sticks to his face, his clothes, his arms. He looked uncomfortable.

“I have a shower,” You say, trying to sound inviting. “You can use my dryer as well if you’d like.”

The man tilts his head slightly, black hair cascading in a wet curtain down his back. You wince as water hits your previously clean hardwood floor. He looks a bit like a porcelain doll, his face mostly eyes and confused blank expression. Finally, he speaks.

“Yes, that would be nice.” He says, stepping farther into your room. You hold out your arm to stop him.

“Stop, you're gonna get my fabric wet,” you sigh, motioning for him to stand still by the door. “Just wait here, I'll be right back.”

The man looks down, lifting his arm experimentally, as if he just remembered he's soaking wet at all. Water cascades off his arm, forming a small puddle beneath him.You sigh, massaging your forehead as you go and fetch some towels from your linen closet. When you return, the man is still standing still by the door. You hand him the towels, trying for a friendly smile. You're very tired.

“Try to dry off as much as you can,” You say, turning back to your cutting table. No reason not to get some work done. You're almost done cutting out the mock up when you feel a tap on your shoulders.

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to finish cutting out the piece you were in the middle of cutting.

“Where is the shower,” The man says from behind you.

“Oh, I'll show you.” You say, turning around. The man has rolled his long hair up in one of the towels you had handed him. In his hands, he's holding a bundle of green and yellow fabric. Fabric the almost exact color his clothes had been. You drop your scissors with a clatter, abruptly closing your eyes.

“Why are you naked?” You ask, trying to remain calm. You had only gotten a glimpse but the man looked pretty built.

“You told me not to track water on your fabric.” The man says, sounding very confused. You take a deep breath and massage your temples, keeping your eyes closed.

“I didn't mean–you know what, never mind.” You say, turning back to your cutting table and opening your eyes. In the foggy reflection of the window opposite you can catch some glimpses of skin and muscles, but you do your best not to look.

“Follow me,” You say, moving towards the back stairs, the ones that lead up to your small flat. The sound of wet feet hitting your hardwood floor follows you, so you assume the man is following you.

“Are you afraid of the human form, Miss…” The man asks. You scoff. You would assume he was mocking you, but the total lack of emotions in his voice gave away the fact that it was a genuine question.

“Name, and no, obviously not.” You say, “I just didn't expect you to be naked. What's your name again?”

“Illumi,” The man, Illumi says. “I apologize for startling you.”

You sigh, opening the door to the back stairs and starting up. Illumi follows you.

“It's fine, Mr Illumi.” You say, reaching to the top of your stairs and opening the door of your small apartment. “You can leave your clothes on the table. I'll put them in the wash.”

Illumi doesn't say anything, but you assume he nodded. The door closes behind him, blocking out the sounds of rain. You flip on the lightswitch, and golden light floods the small living room of your apartment. You slip off your shoes, and move deeper into the apartment.

“You have a nice house,” Illumi says, and you hear the wet slap of his clothes hitting your kitchen table as he continues, “although your security is poor.”

“Thanks, I guess.” You say, choosing to brush off the last comment. “The bathroom is this way.��

You walk past your open bedroom door, silently praying Illumi does not see what a mess it is, and open the small door of your bathroom, switching on the lights.

“Here we are,” You say, turning around and abruptly being reminded that he's only wearing two towels. You yank your eyes from his abs and stair at his drowned face. “You can use whatever you want in there.”

Illumi nods his head up and down, the towel on his air bobbing comically. He blinks his big eyes slowly looking at you with what can only be categorized as curiosity.

“Why did you help me?” He asks. You frown in confusion.

“What?”

“Why did you let me into your home?” He asks again, tilting his head. He really does look kinda sad and pathetic, if you ignore the rest of his mostly naked body.

“Uh…” you say, thinking for a moment. “I felt bad for you? You look like a drowned kitten.”

“Oh,” Illumi says, frowning. Then after a pause, “thank you.”

“Your welcome,” You laugh, leaning past him to grab a large towel from your upstairs linen closet, and pass it to him. He takes it and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You're digging through your clothes drawers for some of your ex-boyfriend's clothes you know you kept when you hear the shower switching off. You hurry, grabbing some soft gray sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts and knock on the bathroom door.

“Illumi? I have some clothes for you to borrow.” You say, folding them and stacking them neatly into a pile. The door flips open and you avert your eye, shoving the clothes in his direction until you feel them leaving your hands. The door doesn't close though, and you close your eyes as clothing rustles, until the rustling has stopped for at least ten seconds. Only then do you open your eyes. Illumi looks much less drowned rat now, his pale skin still a little pink from the shower. His hair is wrapped up in a towel, and you're happy to note your ex-boyfriend's stuff fits him fine.

“Your stuff will be done in about ten minutes,” you say, turning away and leading him back down the small hallway and into your living room as you continue. “You mentioned you had business with me?”

“Yes,” Illumi says as you move into your kitchen, starting the kettle. He's still standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room like an odd statue when you turn around. You giggle.

“You can sit down,” You say, urging him into motion. He obeys, sitting upright in one of your armchairs, hands folded neatly in his lap. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes,” Illumi says, and you pull two mugs out of the cabinet as he continues. “I was told your work is excellent.”

You select a chamomile tea out of the tea cabinet and put a tea bag into each cup.

“It is,” You say. “Who said that though.”

“My father,” Illumi says. You scan your brain for anyone he could possibly be referring to and come up empty.

“Did you need something made?” You ask instead, pouring the hot water into the mugs and putting a plate over them to let them steep. “I'm a bit swamped right now with an unusual request, but if it's easy I can totally make something for you.”

“Mother told me my suit is too small.” Illumi says, still sitting stiff and unnatural on one of your cushy chairs. You grab both of the mugs, placing one on the coffee table in front of Illumi.

“A suite, huh.” You say, taking a sip of your chamomile tea and letting the warmth sooth your bones. As far as normal garments go, Suites would probably be one of the hardest garments ever. Making a suite was one thing, making a well tailored suit in a small time frame without five hundred fittings was quite another. But, in your profession you had long ago learned that there were worse things you might be forced to make than a suite. This one time, this guy had shone up and requested to have a ball for a waist, and be able to use it in combat. You had done it, somehow. At least he had been hot, if very fucking weird. You shake your head, taking a ship of your tea.

“I can make you a suit, yeah.” You say as you place your cup on the coffee table. “Let me get my schedule book and I'll write you in.”

“Im busy,” Illumi replies, sitting bold upright in your chair, tea clutch between his pale fingers. “Can you do it now?”

“Sew a suit, right now, while you're here?” You ask incredulously, sitting back into your chair.

Illumi nods jerkily, taking a robotic sip of his drink and setting it on the table.

“Please,” he says. The room sinks into silence for a moment as you take a few deep breaths, holding back a laugh.

“I have inconvenienced you.” Illumi says, and you decide to take pity on him.

“Is there a specific time frame you need to suit?” You ask, reaching forward to pick up your tea. “I can schedule you as soon as possible.”

“Mother says in two weeks,” Illumi says, a few strands of hair falling from the towel turban he put his hair in. in the distance you hear your dryer beek aggressively, signifying Illumis clothes have finished drying. You stand, moving towards your small laundry room, shouting over your shoulder as you continue.

“You said your father recommended me, right?”

Illumi nods, taking another sip of camomile tea. “He said he gets his work clothes from you. He said your work holds up under extreme stress.”

“I make a lot of specialty clothes for hunters,” You say, bending down to pull Illumis dry clothes out of your front loading washer. “So it kind of has too. Is your father a hunter?”

“Assassin.” Illumi says. You nod, holding his warm clothes and slamming the laundry room door with your foot.

“Ah, you must be Silva’s son then.” You say, handing Illumi his warm, staticky clothes. He takes them, tilting his head to the side.

“How did you know?” he asks, big eyes blinking slowly.

You giggle, taking his empty cup from the coffee table and putting it into your sink, along with your own half full one.

“I don't get many assassins for clients.” You say, running water into the cups and putting them into your almost full dishwasher. You make a note to start it after Illumi leaves.

“You know, your dad has a fitting in a couple days.” You start, grabbing your appointment book from the countertop and moving back into the small living room as you flip through it. “ How about you come with him and I'll take your measurements? That sound good?”

Illumi sits still, head tilted as he blinks slowly, considering.

“Alright,” Illumi finally answers, and you nod, writing it into your book.

His clothes are still resting in his lap and you hop up, grabbing a bag from your closet. It's an old plastic take out bag. You take his clothes from him again as he thinks, putting them in the bag and handing it back.

He looks at it in confusion. You smile, handing him a paper bag filled with the weird pins that had been stuck in the front of the clothes, and what looked like an id of some kind and a phone.

“That way your clothes wont get wet,” You say with a smile, glancing at the clock. It's getting pretty late at night, around ten forty five. The sound of Illumis phone ringing cuts through the silence, and you jump. Illumi pulls an archaic looking flip phone out of the paper bag, flipping it open with a satisfying snap.

“Yes?”

Someone's voice can be heard on the other line, yelling rather loudly. You pretend not to pay attention out of politeness, but strain your ears to hear something. Unfortunately you can catch anything and Illumi hangs up, rising to his feet abruptly.

“I have to go,” he says, “where should I change?”

“No knead,” You say, standing up and getting your appointment book on the table.

“But your clothes,” He says, gesturing down on himself. You smile.

“Dont worry about it, there my ex boyfriends old things.” You say, moving towards the front door. “I was just gonna donate them anyway.”

Illumi follows you, silent but for the rustling of the bags you had provided him. His footsteps made no noise, you hadn't noticed before because of the rain. Opening the door of your flat you step into the much colder stairwell and shiver.

“I'm sorry i don't have a jacket for you,” You say, bare feet padding down the concrete stairs. “It's quite cold out.”

“As an assassin, I was raised to withstand below zero temperatures,” Illumi informs you blankly as you reach the button of the stairs, opening the door into your shop.

“Well that's good.” You say, holding the door open as Illumi steps through, into the barely illuminated back room of your shop. A few mannequins standing in the corner look threateningly like real humans, and you giggle as Illumi stops still, staring at them before moving on.

“Jump scared by the manquines?” You ask. Illumi frowns, shaking his head.

“No.” He says, walking a little faster. You giggle, he must be embarrassed.

“So, you’ll be back in a few days for our appointment, right?” you ask, standing a few feet away from the front door. Illumi, holding two plastic bags of clothes and nicknacks against his chest, nods.

“Yes,” He says, and then a second later, “I apologize for inconveniencing you.”

You giggle. He's a bit cute, in a wild animal kind of way. You move closer, reaching up to yoink the towel from his head, watching his long hair tumble over his shoulders. He shakes his head like a dog, his long silky hair falling into place. His ears are red as he opens the door, stepping into the rain. You wave, and he nods in response as the door shuts with a heavy clunk.

You smile all night as you lock up your room, shutting the doors and securing the windows and waving goodbye to the threatening dress forms in the corner.

Tonight certainly was interesting.

🪡🪡🪡

The sun is shining across your floors, when Illumi and Silva arrive for their appointment. The door opens with a chime of bells, and you look up from your design sketchbook and grin.

“Ah, there you are.” You say, putting your sketchbook and the table and rising to greet the men touring by the door. “I almost thought you wouldn't show up.”

“I apologize, Miss Name,” SIlva says, smiling down at you. He really does tower over you, in stature and height. “Be polite and apologize for the inconvenience, Illumi.”

Illumi, standing a bit behind his father, nods.

“I apologize Miss Name,” He says, looking somehow both lost and sincere at the same time. You laugh.

“It's no biggie, you guys were only a few minutes late,” You say, leading them both into the main area, and grabbing the outfit Silva had requested. “I made the alterations we talked about last time, so hopefully everything fits this time!”

You hand Silva the formal suit jacket he had requested, and motion for him to change. He nods.

“Where can my son sit while we finish this up?” He asks. You nod, turning to look at Illumi who has been standing awkwardly in the middle of your studio with a laugh.

“Illumi, you can take a seat over there if you like.” You say, gesturing at the comfy chairs off to the side of your studio. Illumi nods, moving towards the chairs and sitting down with a thump. His hands fold over his lap and you giggle.

“Your son has great manners,” You whisper, leaning over in Silva's direction. The large man chuckles, brushing his long hair out of the way as he slips the black suite over his white button down.

“My wife has taught him well in that department,” He grins as you survey the fit of the jacket. “Although we have our concerns.”

“Oh really?” you ask, probably more interested than you should be. “How is the fit?”

“Good,” Silva says, raising his arms above his head. “Well as Illumi has gotten older, Kikyo and I worry he'll never marry.”

You stifle a giggle, subtle looking at Illumi as he sits still in your chair, looking around at the framed sketches on your wall. You frame designs you were especially proud of, with proof pictures of course. You turn back to Silva, a little confused.

“Really? He's quite handsome,” You say, checking the back seam as Silva flexes his muscles. The suite stays intact, not even straining. Silva looks at you oddly.

“You think,” He says, smiling slightly. “Well, lately he has expressed interest in a certain woman. Kikyo and I are thrilled.”

“Oh, really?” You say, your heart sinking in your chest a little. When had you even realized you were attracted to him? Maybe you were just disappointed that a handsome man was off the market. “That's just great.”

Silva nods, smiling a secretive smile as he sheds the jacket, handing it back to you.

“The fit is lovely,” He says, “I'm quite satisfied.”

You smile, your heart feeling a bit odd, and turn to grab a bag, packing his suit jacket up carefully and neatly, tossing in a free sample handkerchief as you usually do, all the while feeling a bit sad. You don't quite want to admit why as you hand Silva the package, turning to Illumi sitting in the armchair with a sigh.

“Alright Illumi, let's get those measurements done.” You say, turning away to grab your measurement book and your tape measure. When you turn back, Illumi is standing a few feet in front of you. You hadn't heard him move at all. But you supposed that was expected for an assassin.

“Your shop is nice,” Illumi says, voice stilted as you move closer, wrapping the tape measure around his chest. You ignore the beating in your heart as you take the measurement, noting it down in your book.

“Thanks,” You say, turning back around to take the second measurement. “I try.”

Silence falls as your slightly trembling hands take the waist measurement. Illumi shifts slightly as you turn, noting the measurement in your book. Silence falls as you take the next few measurements, careful not to touch his body more than necessary. The shoulder, arm, and back measurements are all taken in awkward silence, until Illumi speaks again.

“The designs on your walls,” he says, “I recognize one.”

You have your back turned, writing down measurements and you turn to follow his pointing finger. He's pointing at a design you're rather proud of. The man who had decided he wanted a ball for a waist. You grin, proud of it as you turn back.

“Ah, Mr Morrow's design, one of my favorites.” You say, leaning down a bit to wrap the tape measure around his hips. “That design was a pain in the ass but it turned out so well.”

“You have sewed for Hisoka?” Illumi asks, shifting slightly as your hands pass over his hips, taking the measurement down mentally and turning around to write it on the page.

“Yes!” You say with a grin, “Pain in the ass design, but he was handsome and so I guess it was worth it.”

Illumi frowns slightly, shifting as you drop to your knees, taking the length of his legs. Faintly in the background, you hear Silva muffle a cough. You had forgotten for a moment he was there.

“You took his measurements?” He asks, frowning down at you. You look up in confusion, still on your knees with a tape measure in your hand, poised to do the inseam measurement.

“I take everyone's measurements?” You question, confused. “I had to do some really finicky stuff for that outfit, and it involved some odd and somewhat emberassingmeasruments.”

You explain, knees still firmly planted on the floor as you lower your tape measure. Illumi frowns, hands falling over his chest.

“I hope he did not inconvenience you.” He says, blinking very slowly. He sounds almost upset, but you shove it aside with a grin as you pick up your tape measure again.

“Oh, it wasn't too bad,” You say, gently taking the inseam measurement, careful not to brush any sensitive parts as you continue. “The costume was a pain, but he was very lovely to work with. His pretty face definitely helped. And the money, obviously.”

Illumi shifts slightly as you carefully take the inseam measurement.

“You guys friends?” You ask, finishing your inseam measurement and turning to write it in your book. Illumi coughs, shifting behind you with a rustling of fabric.

“I guess,” he says, a certain malice in his voice that you can't place.

“How nice,” You say, turning to write your final measurements, your heart feeling a bit heavy.

🪡🪡🪡

Silva and Illumi pay the whole 70,000 jenny upfront. You protest, but Silva waves it off with a grin, as he and Illumi disappear into the sunlight.

You hate to admit that you're really attracted to Illumi. You're not sure why. Maybe it's the whole wounded animal thing he was going on, or maybe it was his awkward nature and stilted conversation, but you were quite enamored with him.

But thanks to Silva, you now knew you had no chance with him.

The next few fittings with Illumi were an awkward mix of attraction and arousal on your end, and awkwardness at his end. He tried to make small talk with you, and you replied, but every conversation made you more and more sure he would never be attracted to you.

He was even kind enough to bring you a lovely bouquet of red roses and white baby's breath, and apologize for the night you had first met. Every kind gesture made your heart hurt, but you accepted them with a smile. Every time you saw those roses, your heart hurt.

🪡🪡🪡

It was around seven when the events started. You were bone tired, body flopping onto the bed after a long day of standing over a table. Your back ached as you sighed, closing your eyes.

Your phone lay beside you, digging into your back slightly as you relaxed. But you couldn't quite relax. There was a familiar, thrumming energy running through your body. You were horny.

Sighing, you stroked your nipples gently through your thin shirt, already having shed your bra as soon as you entered the room. Your other hand slowly winds down, stroking your pussy gently over your panties.

You're so horny. Maybe it has something to do with Illumi’s fittings. Having your hands all over him in a professional manner was too much. He had such a fit physique, you longed to grip his muscled shoulders, free of the fabric between your skin. You whimper, pressing a finger knuckle deep into your pussy with a sigh. You roll over slightly, back pressing into your phone.

You can't be bothered to take it out from under you, even when you hear a faint click.

Illumi happens to be near your shop when his phone rings. He answers it quickly, holding it up to his ear as he stands in the middle of the darkened sidewalk a few miles from your shop.

“Name?” He asks, standing a foot away from the ring of light cast by the sidewalk. The sweatpants he's wearing hang low on his hips. The sweat pants you had given him. They still smell like you still, and Illumi is ashamed to admit how hard he gets when he takes a whiff of their scent. Re refuses to relieve himself, as not to sully your name. It's become hard as of late, with your figure plaguing his dreams, your careful professional fingers brushing his skin. Illumi sighs, taking a deep breath.

You don't respond, the only sound he hears is a faint groan. Illumi starts moving towards your shop, worried.

“Illumi?” You say over the phone. Your voice shakes, sounding a bit odd. “Oh god Illumi!”

Illumi frowns, moving faster and faster towards your house. You sound like you're in some type of distress.

“Name,” He asks again, “are you alright?”

No reply, only a faint groan leaking through the phone. Illumi’s dick twitches in his pants as he races towards your shop.

“Oh Illumi, you’ve got to help me!” You exclaim through the phone. Your voice shakes lightly, heavy breathing coming through the speaker as Illumi picks the lock to your shop.

“Are you ok, name?” He asks again. You groan, and then the phone disconnects with a click. Illumi dashes through your darkened shop, up the concrete stairs, and opens your door as quietly as possible. If someone is hurting you, he’ll kill them in an instant.

You have two fingers shoved up your cunt when the door opens with a slam. You shriek, trying to hide the evidence of what you were doing as illumi stares down at your mostly naked body in shock. He's standing in your doorway, wearing the sweatpants you had given to him and a black muscle tea, and staring at your body in shock.

He looks so delicious, as he takes you in, his face looking a bit bewildered. You trace his body, your eyes catching on the obvious bulge in his pants, and grin.

“Illumi,” You coo, spreading your legs with a grin. He visibly gulps. “I need something from you.”

This all feels so sudden, the tension hanging in the air between you, the way his expressions of lust spell so plainly on his face. How could you have missed this. You wonder if you had missed other signs.

Illumi moves forward slowly, the door closing softly behind him, feet making no sound on your bedroom floor. He stands at the end of the bed awkwardly, dick twitching in the gray sweatpants he wears. You gulp down saliva, scooting a bit farther onto the bed.

“I want you to eat me out,” You say, bringing a hand down to spread your pussy lips. You watch Illumi gulp, want him crawls towards you on the bed until his head is positioned over your dripping pussy, his hair tickling your knees and thighs as he leans down.

“I apologize if this is unsatisfactory,” illumi says, his voice still as robotic and clinical as ever, even as his eyes tremble with arousal. “I lack the necessary experience to—”

You interrupt by gripping his hair, and shoving his face into your pussy. His body collapses on the bedspread, hands winding around your hips and waist, as your hand winds into the base of his long hair.

You groan, your back arching as he licks a long strip along your pussy, tonge passing gently over your clit.

You reward him with a tug on his hair, and he muffles a small groan into your pussy. The resulting jolt of pleasure runs through your spine, and his name escapes your mouth.

“That's good, so good.” You pants into the air, the hand not tangled in Illumis long hair notting into the white comforter around you. Illumi whimpers quietly, his own hips grinding into the carpet as you moan.

He's showering you with pleasure, his mouth going to town on you as your back arches, and your orgasm threatens to overwhelm you. You whimper, tugging at his hair.

“Oh god, I'm gonna cum.” You shiver, body jolting and jerking and Illumi fucks your whole with his tongue, his thumb drawing circles on your clit.

“Me too,” he murmurs into your pussy, and you watch as he grinds helplessly into the comforter, completely occupied with driving you mad with pleasure.

It's that sight that pushes you over the edge. His hair tangled on your legs, his hands gripping your body like you’ll disappear in an instant, the desperate thrusts of his hips into the comforter.

Your body tenses as you cum, back arching and hand pulling the hair knots in your hands. His voice is on your tongue as you orgasm, stars bursting in your eyelids, pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Illumi also tenses under your grip, muffling a faint moan of pleasure into your pussy, only prolonging your orgasm.

When you open your eyes, hazy from cumming and take him in over you, you feel more arousal running through your body.

He's looming over you, big doll eyes filled with lust, clothes long discarded. His hair falls over the two of you like an intimate curtain, hiding the outside world from view. His dick is bobbing back to life, big and ready to be inside you. A small, nervous smile is curing across his lips.

“Be my wife,” Illumi says, eyes darting anywhere but you. You grin, a feeling of elation running through your body as you reach up, gripping his face with your hand and looking deep into his eyes as you reply.

“Yes,” You say, and Illumis mouth devours you in a kiss so full of happiness you almost cry. Almost, until you feel that hardness pressing against your stomach and you reach down, storking it gently. Illumi moans into your mouth, choking slightly and you grin.

“You aren't busy, right?” You coo into his mouth. Illumi shakes his head.

“Good,’ You say, body twisting into his. “Because I think I'll have you occupied for the next couple hours.”

Illumi responds by kissing the breath from your lips.

...

Endnotes:

I HATE SCHOOL I HATE SCHOOL!!! I HATE SCHOOL I HATE SCHOOL!!!

Anyway, If you cant tell i would love to be a tailor/seamstress for a living, but alas my parents unfortunately raised me to have expensive taste and it's just not sustainable as a career. So it's a hobby for now.

#mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77kinktober #hunter x hunter #hxh smut #hxh illumi #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #Hunter x Hunter #hxh x reader

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genshin-impact-updates · 1 month ago

Text

Version 5.1 Event Wishes Notice - Phase I

Travelers, stock up on weapons and characters in the event wish to make your party stronger in combat!

Event Wish "Forgefire's Blessing" - Boosted Drop Rate for "Ardent Flames Forge the Soul" Xilonen (Geo)!

〓Event Wish Duration〓

After the Version 5.1 update—2024/10/29 17:59

〓Event Wish Details〓

● During this event wish, the event-exclusive 5-star character "Ardent Flames Forge the Soul" Xilonen (Geo) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

● During this event wish, the 4-star characters "Treasure of Dream Garden" Dori (Electro), "Golden Vow" Candace (Hydro), and "Sprout of Rebirth" Collei (Dendro) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

※ Of the above characters, the event-exclusive character will not be available in the standard wish "Wanderlust Invocation."

※ This is for "Character Event Wish." The wish guarantee count for "Character Event Wish" and "Character Event Wish-2" is shared, and is accumulated between both "Character Event Wish" and "Character Event Wish-2." This wish guarantee count is independent of the guarantee counts of other types of wishes.

※ The "Test Run" trial event will be open during this event wish. Travelers may use fixed lineups containing the selected trial characters to enter specific stages and test them out. Travelers that complete the challenges will receive the corresponding rewards!

※ For more information, go to the Wish screen and select Details in the bottom-left corner.

Event Wish "Of Silken Clouds Woven" - Boosted Drop Rate for "The Thundering Seamstress" Chiori (Geo)!

〓Event Wish Duration〓

After the Version 5.1 update—2024/10/29 17:59

〓Event Wish Details〓

● During this event wish, the event-exclusive 5-star character "The Thundering Seamstress" Chiori (Geo) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

● During this event wish, the 4-star characters "Treasure of Dream Garden" Dori (Electro), "Golden Vow" Candace (Hydro), and "Sprout of Rebirth" Collei (Dendro) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

※ Of the above characters, the event-exclusive character will not be available in the standard wish "Wanderlust Invocation."

※ This is for "Character Event Wish-2." The wish guarantee count for "Character Event Wish" and "Character Event Wish-2" is shared, and is accumulated between both "Character Event Wish" and "Character Event Wish-2." This wish guarantee count is independent of the guarantee counts of other types of wishes.

※ For more information, go to the Wish screen and select Details in the bottom-left corner.

Event Wish "Epitome Invocation" - Boosted Drop Rate for Peak Patrol Song (Sword) and Uraku Misugiri (Sword)!

〓Event Wish Duration〓

After the Version 5.1 update—2024/10/29 17:59

〓Event Wish Details〓

● During this event wish, the event-exclusive 5-star weapons Peak Patrol Song (Sword) and Uraku Misugiri (Sword) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

● During this event wish, the event-exclusive 4-star weapons Sturdy Bone (Sword) and Mountain-Bracing Bolt (Polearm) as well as the 4-star weapons Sacrificial Greatsword (Claymore), Favonius Codex (Catalyst), and Rust (Bow) will receive a huge drop-rate boost!

● During this event wish, use Epitomized Path to chart a course towards a promotional 5-star weapon, such as Peak Patrol Song (Sword) or Uraku Misugiri (Sword). For more information on Epitomized Path, go to the Wish screen and select Details in the bottom-left corner.

※ Of the above weapons, the event-exclusive weapons will not be available in the standard wish "Wanderlust Invocation."

※ For more information, go to the Wish screen and select Details in the bottom-left corner.

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ssinboo · 2 years ago

Text

Midnights To Come

summary: After finding campus heartthrob Kim Mingyu absolutely butchering his trousers trying to fix the hole he'd busted in them, you offer his your sewing abilities. As retribution, he thinks that nothing is more fitting than his ultimate mission: getting you laid.

You and Mingyu spend an unforgettable night together.

pairing: University!AU - Popular!Mingyu x Unpopular!F!Reader, reader does read on the thicker side? Nothing specific.

word count: 6.8k (30~ minute read)

warnings: protected sex (finally), fingering (F rec), drinking, partying

a/n: Thank you so much for the love <3 This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swift's older music lol I'm starting a new job soon, so I'll be mostly MIA for march and perhaps april TT

Kim Mingyu was the ex-boyfriend of a friend’s friend’s cousin, unforgettably handsome with the sort of beauty that belonged in Hollywood. A very tall glass of gorgeous with an incredible personality to boot, that’s why everyone adored him. He was majoring in business to follow in his father’s footsteps but was a star at football and made sure no one would forget just who was the best lineman on their amateur team.

And you’d met once or twice, briefly. Definitely not enough for him to come even close to becoming acquainted with your existence, but more than sufficient for him to leave his mark. He was a campus Idol, a guy you admired for his popularity and his way with people.

It was at a senior’s party your friend had dragged you to, that you met again. You were quietly searching for some solace in an empty room upstairs, when you saw him fiddling with his pants – It was hard not to notice his large frame struggling with a pair of jeans in the dark bedroom corner.

Being quite fair, at first you believed he was relieving himself, carnally. That was a puzzling sight as horrifying as it would be— I mean, the man had lines of women throwing themselves to be his, why would he just jerk off? And then, you noticed the stapler he was using to completely butcher the fabric in a desperate way to fix the large hole.

“Oh my God, just stop!” You exclaim, not being able to watch such abuse any longer. He was known to wear brand-name goods and just the thought of high quality fabric being assaulted by staples made your skin churn.

You, however, had totally forgotten to announce your presence.

Mingyu jumps, falling off the bed in a split-second, clashing into the carpet with a thunderous thump. Eyes blown wide like a moose in headlights, he stares at you from his half-down half-on-the-bed position, suddenly, completely aware of his nakedness.

“Oh- Fuck–!” He exclaims, stumbling off the bed and pulling the jeans to cover his brand-name boxers.

“OH!” You also seem to realise how inappropriate it was to simply barge into his intimate moment with the stapler. “I’m sorry!” You yell from behind your palms, eyes tightly shut.

“...No problem?” It sounds more of a question than anything. I mean, it was the polite thing to say when someone says “I’m sorry” however, there was a problem.

“Do you need any help?” You ask, still muffled and hidden behind your hands. Mingyu has no idea on how to reply, he is familiar with those words, especially coming from a lady, but this scenario is totally different from the sexy ones he’s accustomed to. “I’m a seamstress,” Your brain urges for an explanation, as to make the situation somewhat less awkward.

He seems to be content with that. “You are?”

“Yes!” You turn around, fishing around your purse for a small sewing kit, pink plastic box with teeny tiny everything. “I have some needles and thread.”

“Oh, thank God!”

That’s how you find yourself sitting on some stranger’s bed with a half-naked Mingyu – You’re carefully patching up the seams on his jeans while he sits cross-legged with a pillow between his legs.

Who would’ve known that years into University, your closest call with a boy would be such a weird scenario. Sitting with the campus heartthrob as you stitch up his busted trousers. What a story to tell your friends.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way,” He breaks the awkward silence, reaching out his hand; He then realises you are occupied and takes it back.

You tell him your name, eyes glued to the intricate detailing on the garment.

“Are you new here?” He asks, curiously studying your face.

“No,” You mutter, holding a needle between your lips so you can inspect your stitches.

“How come we’ve never met?”

“We have.”

Mingyu adjusts himself, leaning closer, “No”

“Yes?”

“No!”

“You dated my friend’s friend’s cousin,” You explain, though it doesn’t help.

“I’ve dated plenty of friends’ friends’ cousins’,” Mingyu half-chuckles, practically patting himself on the back for that one.

You roll your eyes, “We met once or twice, nothing major.”

“I would’ve remembered you.”

“You didn’t,” Laughing, you don’t even notice he’s taken offence to his own forgetfulness.

“I don’t forget a pretty girl,” It is said as a matter of factly, a worldly known truth of sorts.

“You haven’t.”

“I forgot you, apparently,” Mingyu is more frustrated than you’d expect – Than anyone would expect for such a laid back guy.

“I’m not pretty, though?”

Oh, he is furious at such a statement, “What?! Of course you are. You are a solid 7.5, no joke, dude.”

A solid seven point five? Wow. Coming from anyone else, that could be taken as an offence, I mean, what about you made them go so high up the scale yet not even give a full number? But you were talking about THE Kim Mingyu.

That not only tickles your ego in the right spot, but does get a good laugh out of you. Mingyu laughs along, not fully grasping the humour of it, but enjoying the sound of your giggles.

“Thanks,” You smile, pulling out your scissors to clip the last of your thread. “Here, it’s done.”

He widens his eyes, “So fast?!”

With a nod, you put everything back in your pocket kit. Mingyu excitedly inspects his trousers and his jaw falls open once he can’t locate where your repairs are.

“It’s perfect!”

You smile, “Great!”

“Wow. You are some kind of sewing genius! Thanks! You saved my life”

Mingyu proceeds to rant about how great you are and how amazing your skills are and you should totally work with sewing – you are, and that you should make clothes – you do. All because you are just that good – from a small repair.

You were happy with just helping him, seeing it as a finished mission, ready to pack up and head home but he would not have that, oh, no. Mingyu was laser focused on repaying your kindness – he said he hates owing people so you had to accept. His manner of retribution? Partying and maybe, if you got lucky, getting you laid. It was his mission now.

So he dragged you downstairs to meet his inebriated friends, all surprisingly welcoming and not nearly as douchy as you’d expected – Soonyoung was especially keen on having you accompany him on the dance floor. Even drunk, his abilities surpassed any of your own and he absolutely demolished the floor with his intricate choreo.

Seokmin pulled you from the dance floor to join him on a cheesy karaoke battle, the one feat no man can accomplish being as stone-cold sober as you were. His usually impeccable vocals suffered under the alcohol and strained over high-notes. So you just plucked the first poor soul you saw in the crowd to substitute you as Seokmin’s duet.

Stumbling through the crowd and away from the karaoke, you finally find Mingyu, giving him “Help me” eyes. He laughs softly at your predicament, stumbling from his friend’s shoulder to wrap his arm around your neck — his exaggerated stature almost sent you crashing down.

“Come on, no one caught your eye?” He slurs his words, wild tongue running over his pretty lips, classic red solo cup dangerously dangling from his long fingers. You can see from up close the drunken blurriness that glazes his pretty eyes with unhinged impulsiveness.

You chuckle, remembering his goal was to set you up for a “Hot date”.

“Not at all. But I had fun.”

“Whaat?!” He whines in frustration, stepping forward so you’re facing each other. His arm is still heavily draped over your shoulders. “You didn’t have fun!”

“I did!” You argue.

“No…” Mingyu pouts.

“I did! I promise,” Offering him a smile, you await his response.

“Have a drink with me?”

God, he was a pro at puppy-dog-eyes. With pouty lips, glistening under the remnants of his drink and sparkling eyes with furrowed brows.

“I don’t– I don’t drink,” You’re so upset with the idea of disappointing him and his adorable pout though he barely pays it any mind.

“Then we can do something else! Come on!”

“No, Mingyu–!”

But he’s dragging you away from the party, placing the edge of his cup between his teeth so he can snatch his coat from the hangers on his way out. You’re stumbling under his weight and hurried steps, but the night air feels so refreshing after the stuffy frat house you practically forget his intentions.

The house behind you thumps under the song that blasts through its brick walls, colourful LEDs flashing from open windows. The front yard feels almost completely separate from the party inside, a world apart from the drunk atmosphere that holds the stifling rooms.

Mingyu drags you toward the pavement and standing before his car, you feel your stomach drop once you see him press the button to open the door.

“Mingyu– You– You’re drunk. You can’t drive,” You stumble over your words, nervously fidgeting with your clothes, even if you left right now, would he still drive?

“I won’t. You’re sober,” He says as a matter of factly and you hadn’t even considered driving this insanely expensive sports car.

Mingyu opens the driver’s door and stands there, gesturing for you to get in. A true gentleman. With a relieved breath, you do.

It’s a convertible – Of course, it is, no other car would fit his personality as well. The chassis is coloured a blinding firetruck red and the rims are a polished silver, it’s so clearly well-maintained you feel nervous about driving it. The leather seats smell so vividly of his cologne, woody and fresh.

Mingyu closes your door and jogs to his seat, he jumps over his door with ease, settling onto the beige leather seat with a soft thump.

“Here’s ignition, turn signals, speed and all that,” He leans over and points to each item.

“Is it stick?”

“Nah, I had it modified, it’s completely automatic.”

“Wow, disappointed in you… I thought you’d drive stick like a real man,” You tease, leaning over to check the height for the seat – It’s obviously too far back so you adjust it forward.

“Too busy getting my dick sucked to worry about changin’ gears,” He sticks his tongue between his teeth, leaning back with a proud smile.

“Oh, god,” You groan, “Should I be touching any surface on this car?”

“Nope.”

You laugh.

After putting on your seatbelt, you look over and notice that of course, he’s not wearing his. With a roll of your eyes, you lean over and pull the seat belt over his chest. Mingyu would’ve flinched had he not been tipsy, his eyes linger on your body over his, how your left hand holds the belt at his chest while your right hand fiddles with the lock.

And you have such pretty long lashes that flutter along your cheeks as you focus on finding the clip for the belt. A soft furrow between your brows, you’re sighing and biting on your lower lip; He notices the pretty shade of red that you wear.

But you’re already done and it’s clipped on with a satisfying click.

“Driver’s rules, shotgun shuts his mouth,” You say before he can protest the safety measures.

You smile so brightly, happily turning back to the wheel, excited over this incredible machine that lays in your hands. More than the alcohol in his bloodstream, your joy is intoxicating.

And the car comes alive with a satisfying roar, you feel the soft vibrating from the wheel course up your wrists. For you, following the speed limit felt perfect, the wheel turned so smoothly and the pedals felt the perfect height. But the little devil on the passenger’s seat kept egging you on to go faster.

Caving to his wishes, you take the highway out of town, breezing through asphalt with no sight of other cars. The confidence that such a smooth ride gives is true, you feel yourself steadily increasing the speed much to Mingyu’s satisfaction.

The wind in your hair, caressing your face with the exhilarating night air, the thrilling constant hum of such a potent engine working to your heart’s content. Nothing could beat the constellation of artificial lighting that lit the night scenery, every building held its own collection.

“Where should I go?” You ask, suddenly remembering you’re supposed to have a destination, your eyes absolutely glued to the road.

“Somewhere nice,” Mingyu hums, thinking for a second.

He leans back, his left hand is carelessly draped over your headrest and you can feel his fingers fidget with your hair so unconsciously. Any of his go-to destinations were made for getting hot and heavy, which wasn’t the goal tonight; He wanted to repay you for helping him out and you hadn’t shown any interest in… other manners of payment. So it left him with only one option.

“Take a left next turn,” He says, leaning forward to dig through the glovebox.

Mingyu finds a pair of sunglasses, putting them on despite the very obvious lack of Sunlight. He offers you a spare set, and though you’d love to enjoy wearing Prada sunglasses that probably cost more than your entire net worth, you also enjoy seeing anything on the road. So you push them on top of your head, pushing your hair back.

Somewhere along the deserted road, Mingyu grabs the AUX cord, connecting it to his phone and going through his very generic musical taste. But the atmosphere is so perfect you can’t help but enjoy the bubblegum pop blasting from the dashboard. You even sing along.

It’s a comfortable silence, filled with Pop music and laughter.

You drive for almost an hour under his strict directions, until you reach a dirt road. There’s an alarm blaring in your mind, realising that you’re far from civilization, in the middle of nowhere with a total stranger. I mean, serial killers were always described as charismatic, right?

Making a deal with yourself, you decide that if he does anything even remotely suspicious you’re running the car off the road. You’ll die, but he’ll go with you.

Against your anxiety, however, he tells you to pull up at a clearing just ahead and once you arrive, there’s no doubt on why he chose this place.

From atop this hill, you can see far into the city, its blinding lights nothing but tiny stars on the horizon, the noise pollution of a bustling metropolis is totally gone and replaced by the calming murmurs of nature. Before he can even say anything, you’re leaving the car to admire such a view.

The moon is full, a pale veil over both of you, standing in the starry sky as the queen, ruling over her stars. The light caressing your body with the warmth of the perfect Summer night.

“What do you think?” Mingyu asks, leaning against the hood of his car.

You can’t help but to briefly admire the picturesque scene he paints with his playboy aura and Hollywoodian beauty, leaning against this straight-out-of-a-movie convertible. He has this side smirk, knowing this breathtaking landscape can’t be topped by any of your past experiences.

“It’s…” There aren’t words you can find to describe such a view. “I– Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

He visibly relaxes, as if he was waiting anxiously for your opinion, “It’s my favourite place.”

“I can see why,” You laugh, joining him, though you have a little trouble stabilising your butt over the hood.

“Everything feels small when I come here,” He explains.

Turning to face him, your stomach is filled with annoying little butterflies that flutter around and tickle your insides with foolish thoughts.

His moonlit profile is somehow prettier than his beauty in any other lighting, his perfect nose and high cheekbones and his eyes, God, his eyes. They hold in their dark orbs, all of the stars and worlds, in its ethereal shine.

You hum, prying your gaze from him before your brain gets any outlandish rushes of dopamine and creates unattainable ideas.

Mingyu leans back, his lanky body hitting the windshield, his eyes stare up at the stars. At this moment, he wishes he knew constellations from the top of his head, then maybe, he could impress you with his astronomical knowledge.

“You look like a movie star right now… I feel like I’m in a movie,” Joking, you lean on your elbow, unconsciously following his body with your own.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” He asks on a spur of the moment.

You laugh, “When I grow up?”

Mingyu realises what you meant by your question and laughs along, “You know what I meant.”

Though you’re caught aback, there’s not much thinking to be done, “I want to design clothes.”

He hums, “It suits you, I think.” He didn’t know you that well, but it seemed fitting.

You chuckle, “You?”

Mingyu lets out a long sigh, leaning on his elbows to stare up at you, “CEO, I guess.”

“Have you always wanted to be a CEO?”

His lips press into a thin line and he hesitates on how much he should tell, throwing caution into the air, Mingyu decides to open up. “I honestly… Don’t want to.”

You furrow your brows, “Won’t you take over your father’s company?”

He nods, “That’s what I should do.”

“Then what do you want to be?”

It’s such an innocent question and in all honesty, sort of childish almost? Something you would ask a small child and just agree with whatever they come up with. But it’s something he was never allowed to question.

“I… Don’t think I know.”

You hum, “You could be an actor,” It’s a bit of a tease as much as it is the truth.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, sitting up so he can face you properly. You have this soft smile on your face that holds so much warmth for a stranger like him, it almost feels undeserving.

“An actor?” He prods.

“Yeah,” You shrug, “You just have the vibes for it… Living a thousand lives in just one, I think you could play any character really well. Plus, you have the looks. I always told my friends you have a face that belongs in Hollywood.” It comes out so naturally, you barely realise what you’ve said until he’s staring at you. “I– Sorr–”

Mingyu smashes his lips into yours.

You squeak, but don’t shy away from his plush lips.

His left hand reaches for your jaw, fingers softly tracing your cheek with certain hesitancy but you lean into his touch so willingly he can’t help the bubbling feeling that comes to life deep in his belly.

When your lips part, you feel the night breeze caress the parts of your body he touched and you find your body misses his warmth.

Your brain simply can’t function.

In your brilliant academic journey, romance had never been an aspect you entertained. You quickly learned at thirteen that a fairytale story only happens to cute girls with nice hair and pretty bodies. And not the one repeatedly being used as the butt-end of a cruel joke.

Mingyu represented everything you would never have; A popular, rich guy with amazing hair and looks out of this world. And he was nice, too. Took time of his day to hang out with you and to repay what had been an instinctive action; help out someone.

It could only have been a mistake, right?

Mingyu, noticing the dread that paints your pretty face, can’t help the cold shiver that takes over his body, “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine! I won’t tell anyone.” You reply all too fast.

“What?” He blinks a couple of times, “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, I won’t ruin your reputation…”

He practically jumps from the car, standing in front of you, “Say it again.”

You look up, his towering height has never once been intimidating, until now, “...I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“No, what the fuck do you mean ruin my reputation, why would kissing you ruin it?” His voice possesses such anger you couldn’t even think he was capable of. But you feel yourself getting upset, how long will he torture you with this? Do you need to say with all words how undesirable you are?

“Because no one in their right mind should be seen with a girl like me!” You blurt out, feeling his anger seep into your body.

“A girl like you?” He huffs in disbelief. “A girl that indulged me, was nice to my friends and let me drag her to the middle of nowhere?” Mingyu leans forward, caging your body in between his arms. “ A pretty, kind girl, who helped me without asking anything for it? What kind of girl, tell me.” He orders, his voice in a low, hushed tone that tickles your nose when he speaks.

Speechless, you’re sitting there, face to face with a guy that genuinely shows interest in you, told you you’re pretty for the nth time tonight and has the most kissable lips you’ve seen.

His jaw is tight with anger, almost as if he’s got a personal vendetta against you self-hatred, but your stupid lustful brain can’t focus on anything but the sharp cut of his jaw, deep veins bulging from tanned skin.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, so quietly you think you hallucinated it. But it’s very much true.

He looks so irresistible, half-lidded eyes staring at your lips while he bites his own.

“Please,” you exhale, melting into his body when he leans forward.

You were never a woman of action, preferring when others make the move, but in this moment you have this newfound confidence, meeting his lips halfway, crashing into a fervorous kiss.

It’s nothing like your first, you feel the heat emanating from his body, scorching hot seeping into your skin, burning every nerve it touches with fervorous want.

His tongue is in your mouth, anxious and exploring and he is humming against your lips such an intoxicating melody that for a second, you’re a stranded sailor falling for the voice of a siren and dipping into the arms of unimaginable beauty.

Saliva drips from your connected lips but he refuses to end the kiss, no. Because you taste of cherry flavoured hard candies, provocatively luscious with a delicious aftertaste that can only leave you longing for more.

He parts the kiss, leaning back and practically tearing his varsity jacket from his body. You’re watching closely as he lays it behind you, over the car.

Right hand moving to your waist, Mingyu pushes forward until you’re laying on the hood, so pretty. Your body is still finding his, your chest leaning forward so you can mould into his warmth, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, closer, closer.

You’re breathless, eyes trained on his every move with such incredulity as if you believed you were in a dream, hallucinating every moment so far.

He can feel every curve of your body pressing tightly against his. It’s evident the effect you’re having on him, blood boiling in his veins with unadulterated desire.

There has never been a moment in his life where he genuinely cared to go slow, to show his passion and intent; Every partner of his had been as much into the act as he had been.

But you, you’re so fragile and every moment he spends in your presence feels so ephemeral, he can not help the panic that rushes into his body to make it worth it, to make every second last.

His lips trace along your jaw, saliva coating the path he trails down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. And his lips are so gentle and enticing, with their sugary kisses that you lean into because you’ve never felt something so wonderful.

He nibbles and kisses on your exposed skin, teeth grazing across the teeniest bit of cleavage showing from your borrowed dress. So far, you had done an amazing job at keeping the sounds he elicited from leaving your lips, however this once, you couldn’t hold the breathy mewl that escapes.

Mingyu freezes, eyes slowly rising up until they meet your face.

“Oh my god, do it again,” He huffs against your sensitive skin.

“W-What?” You ask.

“That sound you just did, god, you sound so fucking hot,” And he slurs against your chest. Not because of alcohol, no, he had sobered up on the windy car ride, but intoxicated on the effortless warmth that you exude.

You lit a flame on his chest that burns incandescently with nothing but greedy lust, burning its way through his body with an unfathomable hunger that could only be satisfied by your sweetest moans.

He struggles with the buttons that decorate the cleavage of your dress, trying to undo them and seriously questioning his soberness when they do not separate.

“It’s got a zipper,” You admit, but he looks so relieved.

Mingyu leans back, pulling you by your hand until you crash into his chest and he can finally reach the back of your dress. You’re breathing so heavily against his skin, your soft hands grazing along the nape of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair; He can hardly focus on the task at hand.

His right hand runs under the skirt of your dress, clawing at your flesh with heavy hands, almost as if he wanted to hold you fully in his touch. Toying with the band of your panties, he sighs, watching your chest heave at the contact.

You pull your dress sleeves off, letting the fabric bundle around your waist, though you can’t be arsed to properly take it off. Mingyu does not mind at all, no, he’s absolutely hypnotised by the sight of your tits.

Shoving his face onto your cleavage, he’s pulling you closer into his body by your hips, sucking love bites on your unblemished skin. Leaving a trace of him that would last longer than your moments together, a mark of momentary possession that allowed his brain to indulge.

And you’re contaminated with his boldness, clawing at his shirt with relentless anticipation. You suddenly have this peculiar urge to feel his skin on yours, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

Mingyu smiles against your skin, finding your hands that touch him fervently, wrapping his fingers around yours. And for a brief moment, you feel as though you might’ve wronged him, but he pulls your hands to wrap around his neck as he finds your lips again while his hands are pulling on the hem of his shirt.

The kiss is only parted once, when he pulls the white shirt above his shoulders and discards it somewhere across the soft grass; completely unimportant at the moment.

And god, Mingyu is divinely sculpted with defined pecs and hardened abs that tense under your touch. You sigh at the dreamy sight of his tan skin completely exposed for your viewing only.

He relishes in the adoring look you exhibit, eyes dripping wholly in an exquisite hunger you’ve never felt before; And he coerces this scandalous reaction from you with pride. Your hands are eager to touch him, so you do. You run your fingers down his supple skin, fingernails grazing in teasing lines.

Smoothing out your hands up his chest, you find his neck and pull him toward your lips, wanting to feel his bare skin on yours, stealing his heat until your bodies are running at the exact same temperature.

His hands, large and calloused from playing professional sports, lay heavy on your thighs. Mingyu pulls at the waistband of your panties and takes a second to lock eyes with you, guaranteeing your approval.

You can only hope you’ve got the good pair of underwear on.

But it doesn’t matter, because he pulls it off at once, discarding it above his shoulder to fall somewhere along his shirt.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist and you should’ve felt more embarrassed to be completely exposed before him but Mingyu looks at you with such reverent eyes, taking every inch of abundant flesh with care.

“Fuck–” He groans, eyes glued to the spot between your legs. You can’t even close them in an attempt at modesty because he is standing right there and not going anywhere.

He runs a slender finger across your slit, breathing heavier at the sight of moisture that pools along the lips.

When you bite your lower lip, unknowingly coquettish and staring at him all bright eyed and pleading, Mingyu let out a strained sound that could barely be classified as a groan.

“Can I?”

His finger dances around your slit and he looks unsure. You nod with a soft “Yeah.”

Nothing like anything you’ve felt or done before.

That’s the only way to explain the feeling of having his long finger prodding at your hole with gentle movement. He soon joins another one, stretching you out with delicate scissoring motions, he’s not focused on making you cum, he wants to prepare you for him.

And that very thought makes your stomach tighten in anticipation.

You don’t even realise when your hips are thrusting against his hand, matching his pace. And you’re definitely not thinking when you ask in a gasp:

“A… Another one–”

Mingyu stills.

“You don’t fuckin–” He leans forward, forehead flushed to yours, uneven breath tickling your sensitive lips. “You have no idea what you’re doin’ to me, babygirl.”

You feel your body consumed with an unstoppable amount of confidence, knowing the grip you hold over Mingyu at this moment, you’re dizzy with power.

“Show me, then,” The lazy smile that finds your red stained lips is a sight to bear.

He smirks, knowing he will make you eat your words soon.

As he pulls his fingers from your cunt, there is a thick string of arousal that coats his skin in a sinful glaze. With a confident smirk, Mingyu

But he doesn’t expect when you lean forward, letting your tongue run all over, cleaning his fingers and tasting first-hand the pleasure he brings you.

Oh, fucking hell.

Mingyu could’ve cum right then and there.

You’re giggling as he fumbles with his belt, he wishes he could’ve stopped to appreciate such a sweet sound, but he was way too horny to think about anything other than plunging his cock into you at once.

When the night breeze hits his throbbing erection, Mingyu shivers.

You’re chewing on your lower lip, equal parts excited and terrified at his sheer size. He is large. And fat, with bulging veins running down his length and a thick head that’s trickling with pre-cum.

“Oh my god.”

Mingyu cowers at your gasp, “What?”

“You’re huge, fuck.”

Oh, your praise runs straight down to his erection. His chest puffs out with absolute pride.

“Do you have a condom?” It was a silly question when aimed toward Mingyu, of course he did. He always does.

He fishes out his wallet and pulls a fresh packet, tearing the foil apart with his teeth and pulling the pre-lubed rubber. Mingyu is about to roll it over himself when your hands find his.

“Can I–?” You ask and he almost sighs.

He watches you with bated breath. You’re delicate, small hands quietly rolling the condom over his seemingly unending length until you’ve reached the base. Your fingers linger in curiosity and he can’t help but to find it adorable.

Properly protected, Mingyu grasps his length as you position yourself better on the hood, legs wide open, dripping in anticipation. Oh, you couldn’t fault his desire to tease, could you?

Running his tip over and over your drenched core, he groans. You’re clenching around nothing, hands fidgeting with the bunched up fabric of your dress. Mingyu has a stupid confident smirk on his lips, watching you squirm at his minimal touch.

“Mingyu!” You whine when he brushes against your clit. Reaching your right hand, you claw at his heaving chest. He doesn’t budge, however.

“What?” He plays dumb, toying with your hole.

“F-Fuck me? Please…?”

Fuck seven point five, you were a ten, a twenty, a one-hundred, no fucking numbers could quantify your allure, no. You could charm your way out of any crime if you pursed your brows and pouted your lips like this, smeared red lipstick painting your soft skin, saliva dripping down your chin so indecently.

And your hand was still, caressing his stomach, like a succubus ready to pounce and devour him like a five course-meal. Consume him whole, body and soul until he has nothing left to give. He would let you have him, any way you wanted, you just needed to say the word.

Just needed to let his name fall out of your pretty lips in a breathy gasp and he would be at your call.

Mingyu enters you slowly, stretching out every millimetre of your walls with a burning feeling of fullness.

“Fuck–” He groans, “Relax for me, baby.”

You take a deep breath, allowing your body to relax as much as your brain allows at the moment and he takes the chance to stretch you out further, hips pistoning forward.

Mingyu feels the pleasure seep into his body in one fell swoop, dissolving in his bloodstream, filling his lungs with heat. You’re snug around him, clamping down on his sensitive erection, pulsing alive and throbbing.

“Are you in?” You ask, not risking looking down and disappointing yourself at the remaining length. Mingyu is hovering just inches above you, hand taut on the hood, using every bit of restraint imaginable to not pound you into tomorrow.

“Just a little more,” He breathes out, head coming to rest on the crook of your neck as his hip comes to meet yours.

He allows you a moment to let the stretch lessen, to allow your discomfort to slowly morph into pleasure. And soon, you’ve got your arms wrapped tight around his broad shoulders, his almond eyes have completely surrendered to the dark gaze of lust, devouring you alive with their insatiable hunger.

“You can move now…” You breathe out, fingers tangling around his silky smooth hair.

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” He smiles against your lips, hips finding themselves a languid, slow and torturous pace until you’re begging for more.

The way his body feels against your is something unforgettably wonderful, every curve of his torso giving into your own, every inch of you filling into the gaps of his in an imperfectly perfect little puzzle.

With every thrust, you’re pulling at the roots of his hair, gaining yourself sharp hisses from Mingyu. Though he enjoys the tugging, leans into your scratching, presents his lips to you with total eagerness.

He fastens his movement, thrusting into you with sheer fervour. His hands are exploring your body, kneading at abundant flesh with excited fingers that leave trails of crescent moons shapes along your skin.

Out here, in the middle of nowhere, caressed by the breeze and the moonlight, you’re whispering his name in an unanswered prayer, letting the syllables dance around in your tongue before you let them slip away into the starry night sky to be forgotten.

You’re clenching around him with pleasure, feeling the knot in your belly tighten and tighten.

“Feels– So good,” Mingyu hisses against your kisses, hips not stuttering even once.

Brain an absolute mush, you can’t find any words to respond other than strained moans.

“So– Fucking good…” Nuzzling along your jaw, he grazes his teeth on your neck, painting your skin with love bites.

“I–” You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He doesn’t even need you to finish your sentence to know what you meant.

“Yeah? Me too– Let go, baby.”

Digging his hands into your hips, Mingyu hurries his thrusts, hitting your sweet spot again and again until you’re melting in his arms, singing praise of his name with your candied voice and luring him into his own orgasm.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a harsh kiss, hips slowing down as he comes undone, tainting the condom with heavy spurts.

You’re both gasping in complicity, blanketed in the summer night.

Once the condom is discarded, Mingyu lays by your side and pulls you into his heaving chest. You both lay there in comfortable silence, letting the orgasms fade out into strained sleepiness.

“Will you promise to remember me?” You ask, watching the twinkling stars that lay before you two.

“Where did that come from?” Mingyu chuckles.

“Do you promise?” Your voice is a soft whisper that dissipates into a shaky, hesitant breath, “Do you promise to remember me?”

He laughs, but your eyes hold such urgency, he can not ignore the human need to sympathise with your woes. “...Why– Why do you say that?”

“Because…” You sigh, “Because I’ll remember you, – this,” Hands vaguely gesturing toward your conjoined bodies, “For the rest of my life… And I’m afraid even a decade from now, you won’t be able to recall my name or what I look like.”

It’s serious, it’s a concern that has plagued your mind since the moment you laid down. However, Mingyu can only focus on the fact that you’ve assumed the two of you won’t see each other again, ever.

Leaning forward, his slight smile does nothing to hide the clearly confused look that is plastered across his handsome face, “It’s like you plan to disappear. We’ll see each other again.”

You shake your head, “What are the chances, Mingyu? We’re just… Fleeting seconds in centuries. What are the chances alumni – Not even from the same major, – will meet again?”

“What if we promise to meet?” Oh, he’s absolutely set on it, but you find it adorable; this fervorous intent on defying the hands fate has laid before you.

“Then, what happens when we’re bored of each other?” You chew on your lower lip, but he discards your argument.

“That might not happen,” He points out.

“We’re too different. It defeats fate to force it,” You sigh.

Mingyu doesn’t have an answer right now, but he’s seeking one with furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Remember me like this, no wait–” You run your fingers through tangled hair in an attempt to fix the messing he’d done before. “Done. Like this.” You flash a smile, posing your body in the best angle it has, to construct the perfect memory.

But Mingyu sees your flustered cheeks, smeared lipstick that leaves behind a stained trail of hot red over swollen-kissed lips. Sleep hazed eyes that gaze at him with such warmth, that hold a longing he wouldn’t be able to grasp for another decade. You liked him, you truly did. And that’s why you would never allow your memories of him to be tainted by the grasps of time.

You’d forever remember his dorky smile and dad jokes, his clumsy hands and warmth.

And Mingyu doesn’t realise it yet, but he would forever remember you as someone who marked him forever. To disregard the cards you’re dealt, make your own memories, remember it all fondly.

Maybe in a couple years, you will have a wild dream about this very moment, a fuzzy memory that leaves behind a nostalgic smile that will follow you for the day, reminding you of this perfect feeling. You’ll look back with wistful thinking of the good days.

And will keep it close to your heart.

Where it belongs.

You thought about it often the day after, but days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. And a decade later, you found yourself having a dream about the distant memory, and the sweet nostalgic feeling accompanied you throughout your routine.

After university, you had found a simple job in your area that sufficed the need for experience and filled the empty stop in your resume. Though it was far from fulfilling. There was no creative liberty allowed and you often found yourself overworked and constricted by tight deadlines.

The dream of your own line had yet to die, however. That’s why you had volunteered for such a demanding gig: designing for a historical movie. Luckily, your resume had allowed you a good position, overseeing the wardrobe and designing the pieces that would be forever captured on film.

The main character, a pretty young thing with curly hair, was extremely excited to work with you and almost cried when she saw the dresses she would be wearing.

Today, you would be fitting for the lead male role and designing him some characteristic James Dean style clothes. Your assistant led him to your office while you were gathering your materials.

When you enter the room and you’re met with those gorgeous almond eyes, you can’t help the stupid smile that finds your lips.

“This is the lead actor, Kim Mingyu,” Your assistant explains.

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh.

He stands up, a charming smirk plastered on his pretty face, “Hey.”

Your assistant looks at you with a puzzled look, “You know each other?”

Mingyu nods.

“Yeah, I never forget a pretty face.”

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sumerus · 8 months ago

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˚｡❀˚｡ CHIORI ｡˚❀｡˚ the thundering seamstress

#genshin impact #genshin #genshinedit #gamingedit #genshinet #chiori #chioriedit #*#forgot how to tag but hai im back again #she's really so gorgeous and her motifs are sooooo

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anantaru · 10 months ago

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◆ Chiori, The Thundering Seamstress ✨

#genshin impact #๑•ᴗ•๑ yoru approved'

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mossgh0st · 7 months ago

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As If It’s Heaven’s Gate (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary | Levi is caught in a dark place following the battle of heaven and earth. Believing he’s undeserving of life’s sweetness, he deprives himself until you show up on his doorstep. Inspired by and based on Too Sweet by Hozier.

Content | Angst, Fluff. Sort of slow burn? No use of y/n. Levi is a grump, reader is shorter than him. Brief mentions of off-screen sex. Italics are song lyrics that each section is inspired by.

Pairings | Levi/Reader. Mentions of Jean/Pieck.

Notes | As soon as I heard Too Sweet, I knew I needed to write about Levi. Header is from ‘kii on Pinterest. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————

It can’t be said I’m an early bird, it’s 10 o’clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

After the war, Levi becomes a creature of the night. His meticulous bedtime routine and eves of deep, restful slumber have become wrought with nightmares, teeming with the faces of everyone he’s ever loved having succumbed to their bitter ends. He’s forgone the tea, a relic of a previous era; he now prefers an amber liquid that stings on the way down. A balm that numbs, heavy bottomed glass filled only a quarter of the way. When he ventures beyond the confines of his home, he asks for the tippy top of the top shelf - Levi always takes his whiskey neat.

You know you don’t gotta pretend. Baby, now and then, don’t you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

Some days, he’s lucky if he retires before the sunrise peeks over the hills and pulls itself up to the high point of the sky. Letters go unanswered, bookshelves less sparse as he fills the majority of his time with thick, leather-bound tomes. The newspaper has becomes the perfect kindling, headlines boasting peace negotiations melt and turn runny with the heat of the blaze. When Levi wakes each hazy afternoon, it’s with the lingering scent of bonfire strung about the atmosphere. His once grey eyes have turned deep, a color so sharpened it resembles the water on a lake just before the claps of thunder rumble and bring down swells of rain.

But while in this world, I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three.

He knows he won’t live forever. He’s not at all interested. At this point, he’s pleading for the same sweet release from the world he afforded Erwin. Levi has spent so much time dwelling in the night, the darkness is threatening to become him. Then, you show up, one damp afternoon. Modest sundress, two small bags, a green ribbon tying back your hair. The glow you emanate is too much for him. He wants to be angry, filled with a rage so intense it convinces you to leave running in the midst of the spring storm, ribbon flying behind you. The pit in his stomach solidifies when he can’t bring himself to be irate, softened by the cold flush of your cheeks and the sheepishness of your smile as you stand, delicate in his doorway.

You’re too sweet for me, you’re too sweet for me.

At first, your presence does nothing to alter his routine. You rise with the sun, the first blinks of morning are spent brewing a sweet coffee in his kitchen, silent save the chattering of the birds. The dregs of his previous evening’s fire catching in the wind and mingling with the scent of bitter coffee grounds. Levi rises long after the sun has hit it’s peak, emerging in loose slacks and a half undone shirt, the sleeves rolled. You cross paths only briefly, while he pours his glass of amber whiskey and you prepare your cup of evening tea. A silent understanding has occurred - you can stay, if you don’t intervene. So you read in the overgrown garden, take your coffee with milk and two sugars, visit the bookstore, the seamstress down the block from the town’s main square, and worry about him only when you are tipping over the ledge into sleep.

But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The first change is subtle: tea leaves are disappearing faster than you’re brewing them; you know he’s dipping into the store after you retire each evening. Then, when the usual night terrors creep up again, plaguing your mind and leaving your lungs in a vice grip, the second change occurs. Levi waking and comforting you after a string of particularly violent dreams, a different sort of understanding passes when he murmurs, “I still see them, too.” You find him in your bed then, most mornings. Your routines still separate, bodies occupying different halves of the day for weeks. Coffee, bookstore, seamstress, reading, garden. It continues on, life in your solitary bubbles, except the brief overlapping in the early morning when your breaths mingle in the same space between your sleeping forms.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong.

The paradigm shifts once more when he begins to rouse the same time as you. A brief wave of shame washes over you as you realize he’s already awake, you cannot observe his closed eyes and smoothed forehead, the lines of his face set in peace, the soft parting of his lips, or the slow rise of his chest beneath the thin blankets. That morning, you show him how to make the coffee, and he grumbles after burning the first pot, squinting in the bright light. He notices you smiling out of the corner of his eye and something rattles around in his chest. You add three sugars to your cup. He accompanies you to both the bookstore and the seamstress, his silent presence a new comfort. Levi wants to ask why you chose him, chose his home, when there are happier and more accommodating friends, current or former members of the 104th. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’d be better off with someone like Mikasa, in her quiet cottage by the sea. Even Jean and Pieck, or hell, Reiner and his family.

You're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain.

Within a few months, Levi’s world has changed. It’s brighter, fuzzy around the edges. There’s a few sundresses in the closet of his room, a growing stack of books on his dresser. A knit shawl is draped over the chair in the living room; and the guest bed hasn’t been used in several weeks. He lets her brew the coffee in the morning, his palate now well suited for the taste, and takes chrysanthemum tea in the evenings. The garden has a bench now, front row to the beds of geranium, lavender, and snapdragon. When you smile at him through the kitchen window, an understanding dawns on him, an awakening blooms inside of him. He’s seen this look before, many times; over a shared water jug during an expedition, sleepy and exhausted over a fire surrounded by their comrades, during meetings with military leadership, after the battle of heaven and earth, and on the day you were assigned to his squad. You would never go to Mikasa’s, or to Jean and Pieck, even Reiner, or anyone else. He would never let you.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape.

The first touch of morning is chill, a breeze dancing its way through the open window, sheet gathered at his waist as Levi rouses from sleep. He hears your hums from the kitchen and swings his feet over the bed. He’s drawn to you like bees are to flowers, cloying aroma and sunlight and all things good. Forgoing the tie of his robe, he begins purposeful strides down the hall. Then, you’re there, back turned and hair down. The hem of your pale nightgown sways as you wait for the pour of coffee, glowing in the sunrise, hands over your upper arms to stave off the late summer air. You’re lost in a daydream. Levi comes to stand behind you, listening to the melody you hum quietly. The deprecating, nagging voice he contends with daily in his mind is quieted - it’s just you now; always you.

If you could sit in a barrel, maybe I’d wait.

It’s quiet when he slides an arm around your waist, body warm and flushed. It’s quiet when you turn in his hold, meeting his grey gaze with lingering surprise and pink cheeks. It’s quiet as he pulls you in closer still, hands coming up to rest on his chest. Quiet, as Levi brushes his forehead against yours, eyes closed, fingers flexing in their hold of you. Completely silent, as he tilts your chin up, up, up, and brushes his lips with yours. The taste of you nothing like he had ever dreamed, and oh, had he dreamed. When you push up onto your toes to deepen the pressure, sigh into his mouth, his black bitter heart nearly bursts through his chest.

Until that day…

And when he takes you shortly after, coffee long forgotten, limbs so tangled it’s near impossible to discern where you end and Levi begins, lips parted and dewy with sweat and each other; he can only think of the sweetness this life has afforded him in you, how the bitterness of his past has made way for this belonging.. well. There’s truly no such thing as too sweet, is there?

#levi aot #captain levi #levi heichou #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi fanfiction #levi blurb #levi oneshot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi Ackerman oneshot #aot oneshots #attack on titan oneshot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #user!moss writes

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wizard-on-whales · 2 months ago

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Blue Jean Baby

You can't sleep due to a storm ranging outside so James softly sings you to sleep

No warnings :)

✭-----------------------------✭

The pattering of rain against the window was normally a sound that would lull you to sleep, but tonight was different as you lay there huddled under the sheets. The high winds were howling outside along with the loud, not so distant thunder booming every few minutes. You were usually not scared of storms, you had always loved them, but tonight you couldn't shake the anxiety that pooled in my stomach. Beside you, James was sleeping soundly, his mouth parted slightly as soft snores escaped his lips. You could never understand how he could sleep through just about everything, but you assumed it was from years of being trapped on a tour bus and falling asleep backstage at concerts. Another crack of lighting filled the dark room as you peered through the small crack in the curtains hanging on the window above the bed. You braced myself for the loud sound that followed it, scooting closer to James to try to find some comfort. He didn't stir as you moved his arm off of his stomach so that you could lay against him. You tangled your legs with his and wrapped your arm tightly around his waist, trying to listen to the calming sound of his heart beating in your ear. Another unexpected bang caused you to flinch, this time, James' arm moved, wrapping around your shoulder. You stayed wrapped tightly around him, trying to hold back the tears that welled in your eyes. You felt like a helpless child as your body shivered slightly from anxiety.

“Hey, what's wrong, baby,” James' tired voice filled your ears as his arms wrapped further around you, pulling you close. You glanced up towards him, seeing him struggling to keep his eyes open as he fought with sleep.

“It's nothin', go back to sleep,” You try to encourage him, not wanting to admit a storm is what's keeping you up. You could tell James could see right through the lie though.

“The storm scaring you?” He asked, running his hand through your hair, scratching your scalp in the soothing manner he knew you loved. You nodded my head in response, not wanting to admit it out loud. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it further over you, tucking it over your shoulders before changing positions. He moved to his side, scooping you into his arms as he pulled you tightly against his chest. Another bang rang out in the distance, causing you to flinch again and cling to his touch.

“It's alright, it'll pass soon,” James says quietly in your ear, kissing the skin just below it. His thumb gently wiped a stray tear off of your cheek before kissing it.

“Can you sing?” You ask him shyly, looking at him best you could through the dark room. James snickers a little, running his hand gently through your hair.

“Yeah, I'll sing, baby. What do you want me to sing?” He smiles gently, his tired voice filling your ears as he speaks.

“Can you sing our song?” James nods gently, his hand still playing with your hair as he quietly starts to sing the lyrics to Tiny Dancer by Elton John. It was the song we had danced to at our wedding, one he had always had a soft spot for.

“Blue jean baby, L.A lady, seamstress for the band,” James sings softly, a small smile on his face as he holds his gaze with yours, his thumb now gently stroking your cheek.

“Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man,” James laughs quietly as he sings, watching you with delicate eyes. The sounds of the storms fade in your ears, your focus solely on him now. Your eyes start to feel heavy so you close them, tucking your head politely under his chin. He moves his hand to your back, gently rubbing it as he continues to quietly sing to you.

“But oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near,” He pauses for a moment just to place a tender against your forehead. You felt sleep start to overtake you, the storm no longer on your mind.

“Only you, and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly,” He notices that you've fallen asleep but he continues to sing to you for a few more moments.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” He says to you, placing one last kiss on your forehead, pulling you closer into his arms and falling back asleep himself, a smile etched across his features.

#james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica smut #james hetfield smut #metallica x reader #papahet

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mc-lukanette · 1 year ago

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Everyone knew of the seamstress, famous more for her work than even the glowing fairy wings on her back. She could do anything for anyone and was always willing to help. She could sew any design asked of her, make repairs to have clothes look brand new again, or alter as necessary if someone might need an outfit fitted for them.

It was an experience simply to see her work, fingers deftly working away without any sign of stopping until the job was finally done. Her boutique was lined with her products and sources of inspiration, yet carefully selected so as to not overwhelm anyone. Helping her along was her trio of mice, who eagerly rolled spools across the floor and carried needles to her whenever she requested them.

Despite all of that, what she was most known for was her ability to sew emotions into clothes, ranging all the way from joy to anger. People who wore clothes infused with happiness felt better after a rough day, those who wore clothes saturated with sadness would find it easier to cope with their own by comparison, and those who wore clothes instilled with anger—

Well, they were probably gifted those clothes by someone who wasn't exactly happy with them.

The seamstress had a wide range of intense emotions ready when needed. She would imagine munching on a sweet cinnamon roll for happiness, the time she'd found her childhood toy ripped for sadness, and the cruel treatment she'd received from a bully long ago for anger. Depending on the circumstances, the memories she used would vary, but there was one feeling that she'd never been able to put into her clothes:

Love, specifically the romantic kind. Everyone who'd known her or heard the rumors was aware that she'd never had a relationship in her life, which seemed ridiculous to them. She had alluring blue eyes, black hair that was suspected to feel like silk, and most importantly, a big heart. She'd had suitors left and right offer themselves to her, but she turned them all away.

To her, love was important. She lamented the fact that she'd never felt it before and longed to be able to sew love into something one day, but she wouldn't choose just anyone.

Then came the model.

It'd been a stormy afternoon when they'd officially met. She'd been metaphorically trapped under an awning, unable to step outside lest her wings get wet, when she noticed a photoshoot (certainly an unsuccessful one) across the street being cleaned up. The model, his role obvious given that she'd seen him in fashion magazines, had spotted her and crossed the street to reach her. She suspected that she was easy to see with all of her brightness.

He offered her his umbrella without a word and, in the next instant, she heard thunder go off. The atmosphere made it seem weirdly like the perfect meeting, his blond hair glistening from the rainwater soaking it and his eyes reflecting the light of her fantastical wings. Their hands even brushed when she took the offered umbrella, her wide eyes never leaving him until he'd disappeared into his fancy car and drove off. Rain hadn't even been forecast that day and they wouldn't have met without it there.

It seemed like fate, a thought she only became more sure of when another chance encounter came.

She'd been walking to a store for new sewing supplies when alarmed cries alerted her that something was wrong. Following everyone's gaze led her to the sight of the model plummeting from the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, a pair of angel wings at his back that weren't doing any work in saving him. She abandoned all other thoughts and flapped her own wings, flying up to meet him and secure him in her arms.

The actual catching process had been rough - he was still bigger and heavier than she was - but all in all a success. She landed him safely on the ground and inspected the damage to what she'd now recognized as a magically-charged pair of fake angel wings, clicking her tongue in disapproval at the poor craftsmanship. Naturally, she fixed them up so he could control them properly and not have them start failing again at the slightest gust of wind.

She caught his emerald eyes sparkling when he thanked her for it, the both of them noting that their meeting had been a coincidence once again and he could've died had she not been there.

This had to be it, she'd thought. She was in love, it was destiny sending her exactly what she'd desired all along, and he would receive her first piece of clothing imbued with love.

A scarf was ultimately what she'd decided on, representing the warmth of their hands in contrast to the chill of the rain. Daydreams of the perfect moment to hand over the completed product flooded her mind, potential confessions playing back-to-back as she sewed away and debated on which would be the best to do. She imagined his god-sculpted face close to hers, either reciprocating her feelings or confessing himself, the mere image making her hands work even quicker for it.

However, an obstacle came when she stopped short of completing it, something that had never happened before. She pinched at the fabric, stretching and examining it every which way to determine the issue, but she couldn't place it. Perhaps the colors were off, or the width was wrong, or a combination of things that made it difficult to pinpoint just one.

She resolved to start again the next day when her mind was fresh, but the same happened again. It became a cycle for her of designing, sewing, and never finishing because she wasn't happy with it.

Her mice did their best to support her, though within reason. If she tried an all-nighter, they would make a tower out of themselves to flick the light switch off, wordlessly telling her to head off to bed when she worked too hard.

Sometimes, she wondered if it was her skills that were lacking. For all her fame and abilities as the fairy seamstress, she couldn't manage a simple scarf for someone she insisted that she was in love with. The model was even more famous than her - even more talented - and anything less than perfection would inevitably bring shame to his very name. She wasn't alone in her adoration of one so beloved by everyone and praised as a light rivaling the sun itself, which meant that she was competing with others for the final place at his side.

Admittedly, it added a lot of pressure, but any time she'd considered giving up, something would happen. She'd see the model's face on something as she passed by, they'd happen to be in the same place and make eye contact, or she'd catch him on television getting interviewed about his incredible life.

Other times, he would come to her, bursting through the boutique's doors like an angel opening heaven's gates. He'd leave her with any manner of things, mostly roses, but he always made sure to leave her with flirtatious parting words and promises to come back soon. They were only minutes of her day at a time, but nonetheless encouragement to continue doing exactly what she was doing.

She'd been doing just that, toiling away at her literal labor of love, on an otherwise normal day when she got a new customer. Looking up from her work, it was apparent that he was not like the model in any way: he wore a guitar case on his back, his hair was pure black with blue at the tips, and his clothes were casual rather than designer. Those aspects with the addition of his black nails and earrings made him the definition of "self-expression."

He left quite the first impression based on appearance alone, but more surprising was what he'd come in for: a rip in his jacket that he asked her to fix. When she pointedly looked him over, specifically at his distressed shirt and pants, he could only excuse that it was different when it wasn't intentional.

The idea was so absurd that she'd laughed, and before long he was laughing along with her. She still agreed to the job, never one to question her customers to the point of chasing them off, and they'd talked while she repaired the rip. It wasn't even about anything special - mostly their jobs and various hobbies - but the mere suggestion that she'd like to hear him play was all the incentive he needed to come back the next day.

And the day after that, then the one following that one. She wasn't sure how it happened, but they always had a reason to see each other again, whether it was not having had time to finish their conversation that day or just because. She learned that his favorite color was blue, he'd dabbled in all types of music throughout his life, and he lived in a shared apartment with his sister. Said sister had even been one of the seamstress's old friends, yet somehow she hadn't crossed the musician's path even once. It amazed her that they'd missed each other so many times before now.

Before long, his arrival had become expected; natural. There was already a place to sit that she often let her customers have if it was a quick job or they didn't have anywhere to go, yet at times she would catch herself thinking of it as his. They never quite defined what they had, only that they liked meeting up and talking to each other.

Once, he'd brought her coffee in the morning, and she was surprised to see that it was her favorite. It baffled her, wondering how he could've known, until he spoke of a "rough morning" story that she'd entirely forgotten about by then. He was even embarrassed when he noticed that she'd already gotten a coffee herself and dared to insist that she didn't need to drink the one he'd gotten her.

She did anyway with whole-hearted appreciation, willing to risk the potential stomach cramps and caffeine overload. For someone with such a carefree air about him, he did put care into remembering little details even if they were ones given casually. In a way, she supposed that she wasn't any different, having made observations on and learned about his whole deal with "rips and tears." She knew which types of clothes he preferred to keep untorn, what skin on his body he didn't mind showing through the various slits, and even that he preferred his accessories to stay new-looking.

Her mice had taken a liking to him as well. If she ever noticed one of them missing from her workspace, she could look over and find them hanging around him, either tickling his skin with their whiskers or using him as their own personal obstacle course. She may've found herself staring a few times, watching his deft fingers adapt, straighten, or flex as needed while one of her mice swerved around and slipped between them.

If he ever caught her watching, he never mentioned it.

There were some days where they didn't talk at all, but it wasn't awkward like one would suspect. Either they were engrossed in their own work or it was simply an enjoyment of the other's company. The musician could be so still and content during such times that she occasionally wondered if he was asleep, but he was always aware of her presence. She'd discovered as much when she lost her favorite spool of thread, even to the point of shrinking down to pixie size so she could look in small spaces with her mice, and he was up in an instant to help her out.

He was just like that. Even when she was struggling with her scarf as usual, he gave her constant reassurances and offered to help however he could. There was no sign of judgment or doubt, only a steadfast belief that she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to.

It never occurred to the seamstress before how nice it was to simply have someone there. She'd fantasized about having a husband eventually, of course, but there was something different about experiencing what she had with the musician. They didn't live together, nor slept over at the other's home, but there were hints that the other had been there. He would take his wristwear off to wash his hands and mistakenly leave one behind, or one of her mice would go with him when it concluded that the inside of his guitar would make a good second home. She'd bring pastries to share from her parents' bakery and send him home with the box, or throw away a sketch in the trash and notice the crinkles of differently-toned paper next to it when he must've tossed a song he'd been writing.

It was the little things all culminating into a reminder that her days weren't just her, her mice, and whichever customers came by anymore. Putting a name to the feeling was difficult, but it was calm, safe, and warm.

Life continued as it was - the musician's daily visits, the model's infrequent ones complete with gifts and compliments, and failed scarves - until she'd wound up trapped in the rain once again. It was her own fault, having seen the cloudy skies but still jumping at the musician's offer to find some new albums with him. They'd gone down to the music store and picked up one album after another, discussing their musical tastes and making jabs about sellouts. Further still came the discussion of instruments as she prodded him for his experience on which he was most comfortable with besides his beloved guitar, all heads turning when he picked up a violin and started to play. Such soft music coming from someone dressed the way he was felt so uniquely him.

But then the fun ended the moment the seamstress turned to leave and noticed the rain outside. It was absolutely pouring, her wings already shivering in anxiety at the idea of being drenched. The musician himself hadn't even known of her issue until she explained, his eyebrows creasing with worry as he followed her gaze to the raindrops hitting the sidewalk.

Neither of them had an umbrella, but he leaned down to whisper a hesitant suggestion into her ear. She blushed, meeting his gaze to ensure that he was okay with it and receiving a resolute nod in return.

It seemed contradictory to shrink down when her goal was to avoid getting soaked, but not when his hands picked her up and settled her at the crook of his neck. He put his hood up next, leaving her in the space between the fabric and his skin whilst vastly lessening the risk of water coming down on her wings.

Sure enough, he stepped outside and only the fabric itself got wet, not the fairy tucked safely out of the rain's reach. She was stunned, not by the fact that it'd worked but that he'd gone through the trouble at all. He'd been willing to walk her home in the rain and, even if he would agree to stay at her place for the night, it took longer to get to her house than his.

When she pointed it out, his response was simple: that anyone would've done it. She shot it down immediately, insisting that he was diminishing himself needlessly and going much farther than protecting her from getting wet.

Then, like the sky after the rainclouds dispersed, everything became clear to her: the relationship she had with the musician, the feelings she had for the model, and the failed scarves that she'd accumulated over all this time.

Anyone could hand her an umbrella or give her shelter from the rain. Anyone could give her a bouquet of roses, and in fact many people did. Anyone could write a card, send her gifts, or even speak sweet words to her.

It took more than that to form a bond. It took getting to know someone and acting upon that knowledge. It took spending time with them even if the activity was simply enjoying their company. It took the ridiculousness of helping search for a spool for hours and not even batting an eye when it ended up being in the dumbest place possible.

It took love.

Looking up at the musician, she noticed the heat on his face despite the chill of the storm's wind. His footsteps were careful so as to not jostle her, but if she put a hand against his neck for balance anyway, she could feel his rapid pulse.

Putting her other hand to her chest, they were distinctly similar, like different instruments playing to the same songsheet or two strings coming together and tying into a neat bow. She suddenly had an urge to design something and it wasn't a scarf, the thing that was never going to get done when there'd been no love to put into it, having instead sucked away her confidence and time like it was a black hole.

No. She knew exactly what she wanted to make.

There wasn't a perfect moment, nor a perfect atmosphere, simply because she didn't feel she needed one. The musician had become a constant in her life and she only needed him to know that she wanted it to stay that way. The task was an effortless one, hindered only by the speed at which she could sew and the time he became available to visit.

When they were at a lull in conversation, she did it. The seamstress took her gift, approached, and held it out to him: a pair of fingerless gloves.

Being a creative force herself, she knew how important one's hands were. The were the tools necessary to sew or play music, and she'd always watched his when he was using them. They were the hands that set down the coffee he'd bought for her, the hands that played with her mice when she was too busy, and the hands that picked her up to place her outside of the rain's range. If he wore the gloves imbued with all her feelings for him, then it would be like he was always carrying her with him, the hands he'd used to express love being protected by her own.

The musician, normally one who always knew what to say, was left speechless by her confession. Even in the time it took for him to feel the gloves, put them on, and feel them again, he was still at a total loss.

Thankfully, as they'd proven over the course of their time together, words weren't always necessary to get one's feelings across. He looked at her, gloved hands cupping her face, and she caught her reflection in his eyes as he pulled her into a kiss. She easily reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer.

He might not have had the ability to infuse emotions into things like her, but she nevertheless felt the full force of his love.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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jjkamochoso · 7 months ago

Text

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7 linked here

Chapter 9 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, blood, description of sewing up skin

The weather took an unpredictable turn, sheets of rain cascading down on the castle where the sun shone hours earlier. If this was any other afternoon you would’ve welcomed it with open arms but the Scouts were out on their expedition, deep in Wall Maria. Everyone knows it’s too dangerous to evade titans, much less fight them, in conditions like this. You tried to quell your worried heart by throwing yourself into your newest project. You were using Levi’s leftover winter pant fabric to create arm warmers for yourself. When you were done cutting the pattern and got your pieces ready to sew, you felt a dull ache in your chest as you realized this quite possibly could be the last bit of Levi you’d ever have. You did your best to quiet your thoughts as they helped nothing, focusing on your hands as they pushed fabric under the sewing machine. With that part over, you decided to embellish your new accessories with embroidery. You opted for the Scout Regiment symbol on the back of the arms so hopefully you could wear them as part of your uniform. The fronts look bare without anything so you added a small bunch of bell flowers. You noticed they were growing everywhere this time of year and to you they represented beauty and hope in times of despair. There was a slight chill that came with the storm so you put your newly finished work to use, relishing the warmth they brought you. As you went to the dining hall for dinner, you overheard a messenger that came riding in from the expedition, but you could only capture a few words here and there from your position as an eavesdropper.

“We… rain and thunder… sitting ducks out there… waiting for the weather to let up… too dangerous… not coming back yet.”

You let out a gasp. They were supposed to be back tonight but it sounded like they were having to wait out the rain. After hearing that, you weren’t hungry anymore. You spent the rest of the night in your room with a stomachache.

When Levi felt the first drops of rain land on him, he couldn’t believe the bad luck. The weather was supposed to be clear for the rest of the week, why was it fucking them over now?

“Erwin. What are you thinking?”

The commander kept an unreadable face while his horse galloped forward. “We gather the troops under the trees for shelter. We need to bring these supplies back into the wall, there’s no leaving the carts behind. It’s a gamble we must take.”

Levi wordlessly fell back, sending out a messenger and shooting off his smoke signal to show the change in formation. When all of the squads reconvened in the cover of the forest, Levi started feeling a headache coming on. Not only had they already lost some soldiers to titans taking advantage of the confusion of the regrouping, the rain was even worse and visibility was limited. They had to wait for a break in the weather and haul ass back to the walls before it stormed again. The black haired man’s thoughts roamed to you. He figured you were probably enjoying the stormy weather, watching the rain pelt your window as you sipped on a warm drink.

Actually, he scoffed to himself, she’s probably worried sick about us. Her and that big heart of hers.

Not that he was complaining—his own heart was guilty of caring too much as well. For his comrades, the people who relied on him to keep him safe, you. You had wormed your way into his heart with your kind smile, witty humor, and strong work ethic. Levi had an innate desire to protect people, especially those he cared about, but as his crush on you developed into stronger feelings over the months, he was sure that if a titan even dared to look at you with its disgusting eyes that he would chop it up and make it suffer, the same way he annihilated the one that killed Isabelle and Furlan. Levi shivered as the memory of their mangled bodies came to the forefront of his mind. Their deaths continued to haunt him, a constant reminder of his failure to keep them safe. He swore to himself he’d never get close to people again but he failed miserably at that. He was too empathetic and terribly compassionate. Erwin, Hange, his squad members, and now you, were all people he had let infiltrate his ironclad heart and he just hoped none of them were stupid enough to get themselves killed.

The thunder and rain had finally let up as nighttime washed over the Survey Corps. The horses and carts were prepared once more and everyone was ready to get out of there as soon as possible. Even Levi was getting creeped out by the lack of titan activity in the forest. Was it because it was so dark earlier? He didn’t know and didn’t care to stick around and find out. As the brigade left the confines of the forest, multiples of fast, pounding footsteps were quickly coming in from behind them, deeper in the trees.

“Carts! Head to the wall now!” Erwin directed most of the squads to follow and give them cover in case of other titan attacks. Meanwhile, Levi and his squad, along with Hange and a few others, stayed behind to take care of the abnormal titan that showed up with other titans trailing behind it. The smaller titans were easy enough to deal with but the abnormal seemingly kept calling for more reinforcements. Every time someone tried to take down the abnormal, a swarm of smaller titans protected it. Soon, the squads were at risk of being overwhelmed. Exhaustion had creeped into their bones from flying around and slamming into trees with their ODM gear. Levi heard the screams of his fallen comrades which only fueled him to move faster, slice stronger. He was flying from tree to tree, cutting napes like crazy, when he finally saw an opening to take down the abnormal. He quickly gained momentum, throwing himself from the branches and spinning mid air, cutting a hole in the back of the abnormal’s neck and it sank down. As he zipped through the air, taking down the rest of the titans, another unseen abnormal had taken refuge in the trees, waiting to strike. It saw Levi with his sights set on a smaller titan and took the opportunity to jump on him. Levi saw movement out of the corner of his eye and yanked himself into some tree branches in hopes of avoiding a collision with a type of titan he’d never seen before. This one was able to climb trees and had sharp, almost claw-like nails. He stared in horror as he heard Hange squeal in delight at their new discovery.

“Ahh! That’s so cool!” they yelled, gleefully slicing into a nape of a 8 meter while trying to catch a glimpse of the enigma that had joined the battle. Levi couldn’t care less about the titan, he just knew he couldn’t let it escape. It was surprisingly fast and agile, much like him. Its long arms reached out and swiped at him. He was able to evade most of the attack but he felt the skin of his arm open up as blood gushed from his newly acquired wound.

“Tch. You ruined my fucking shirt,” he grumbled, thinking about how he’d have to bring you his clothes to get fixed. This damn titan needed to get taken out now because it could climb the walls and wreak havoc, hurting people inside. It could easily kill the Scouts surrounding him if it was able to injure him (a rare occurrence). It could easily kill you.

He couldn’t lose you.

Levi went into berserk mode, spinning up the titan’s arm and slicing it to shreds. To anyone witnessing the sight, it looked like a tornado of blades had descended upon the forest. The head of the titan landed on the ground with a thud and Levi wiped the blood from his blade.

“Ugly piece of shit.”

The other titans were taken out and the soldiers all rode back to the wall on their horses, having to leave behind the slain bodies from the battle in the trees, but Levi kept the collected Scout crests from their uniforms to give to their families. When the rest of the units were all safely inside the walls, no casualties among the squads that protected the carts, Levi let out a sigh of relief. They made haste to the castle, ready to make up for lost time spent in titan territory. Levi searched for your face among the crowd that had gathered to meet the returning group back at the base but you were nowhere to be found. He frowned, even more so when he felt his wound seeping blood again. He needed stitches but he hated going to the infirmary. The smells and sounds of agony were too much for him. He would normally do it himself but this didn’t seem like a one man job. If only he knew someone that was good with a needle…

You awoke with a start at the sound of voices. You looked out your window and saw the Scouts had returned, gathering in the courtyard while butterflies were gathering in your stomach. You saw a few carts filled with supplies, which meant their expedition was a success, but then you spotted a cart filled with bodies. It was extremely difficult knowing people had died, but you knew they didn’t give their hearts in vain. You didn’t mean to be inconsiderate at a time like this, but you truly hoped no one you knew well was lying there, covered in a white sheet. You slumped against your table, head in your hands, when you heard a small knock at your door.

“It’s me.”

Your head shot up as Levi opened the door slowly. Your smile faded immediately when you saw he was dripping blood and looked pale.

“Levi! Go to the medic!” you said, but he shook his head and threw you a first aid kit.

“I’m not going to the shitty infirmary. It’s disgusting in there. I need you to sew me up.”

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the kit in your hands. You were a seamstress, not a doctor. You’ve never sewed skin before, you didn’t know how. Actually, that wasn’t all true. You had perused Hange’s books and read how to do it, but it certainly wasn’t the same. You opened your mouth to protest but his eyes held such an intense pleading gaze that you couldn’t turn him away.

“Here, sit on the bed. I’ll try it. If I fuck it up you have to promise me you’ll let me take you to a real doctor.”

He grunted and you took that as his word. He had thankfully taken off the ODM gear but his harness and everything else was still attached. You handed him a towel to press on the wound while you went to work on getting the straps undone so you could properly assess the wound under his sleeve.

“Is it okay if I undo everything?” you asked beforehand, not wanting to make Levi uncomfortable. He was quiet but nodded in agreement so you got started. The last time you were this close to him, nimble fingers working your way around his body, was when you tailored his pants. You would’ve appreciated this closeness any other time if he wasn’t risking bleeding out in front of you. Levi, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying himself. He hated to think he was being a burden on you but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving the little touches you laid on him while disassembling the top of his uniform. He usually hated physical touch but you were so gentle with him that his body couldn’t possibly deem you a threat. When his jacket and top harness were off and stored neatly on the floor, you took off his cravat and laid it on the bed so he could breathe a little better.

“Now for the fun part,” you said under your breath, doing your best to pull up his sleeve to see the gash but it was too tight to pull up to his shoulder.

“Shirt’s gotta come off, Captain,” you said nonchalantly. You realized what you said and immediately felt embarrassed.

“Buy me dinner first, brat,” teased Levi, a strained huff of laughter exiting his throat at the same time as a groan of pain. You hurriedly took over the task of peeling off his shirt, averting your gaze from his chest the best you could. You offered him another towel for modesty but he refused, not wanting to dirty any more of your belongings. You busied yourself with threading the needle, making sure to not blatantly look at the insanely sculpted body that was staring you in the face out of respect for him. You had more important things to do than ogle your crush’s muscles while he was injured.

“Are those new?” Levi gestured to your arm warmers.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I repurposed the leftovers from your winter pants to make them. And, of course, added my own design touch.”

Levi’s heart skipped a beat.

You took a seat next to him on the bed again, ready needle in hand, as he removed the towel. The blood had stopped running down his arm but it left the area slick.

Okay, I can do this. He’s just a big shirt with a hole you need to mend. You’ve done this plenty of times, y/n.

Your hand was shaking as you brought it up to the wound. Levi watched you intently with slow blinks, like a cat.

“I’m going to start now. Tell me if I’m hurting you too much and I’ll stop.”

One last deep breath and your needle punctured his skin. He barely reacted as you began sewing him up, stitching broken skin back together like he was a giant doll. You did your best to keep the lines nice and straight since he’d have these scars for a long time. You thought maybe he would look away but he never took his eyes off you. In fact, Levi thought you looked more beautiful now than you ever have before. You were so concentrated, deep in thought, with your brows slightly furrowed, all while helping him not bleed out—it was the perfect recipe for him to fall in love. He wouldn’t go so far to call this love yet, but the way your breath fanned over his skin to make him develop goosebumps had him guessing it was pretty damn close. Or maybe it was the way you were literally wearing his clothes. Sure, they were repurposed, but the fact of the matter was you two had been connected by threads in so many different ways now. You mended his cape, used his clothes scraps for your own personal items, stitched up his skin. He didn’t believe in fate or any of that nonsense but there was definitely some sort of symbolism happening with the two of you.

“All done. Did I do okay?”

Levi inspected your work. Neat, clean, and precise, just as expected. “You did well. I’m proud of you, you didn’t even cry once.”

“Aren’t I supposed to say that to you? You were the one with their arm barely attached to their shoulder,” you joked. Levi rolled his eyes and went to get up but let out a small hiss, sinking back into the plush mattress.

“Can I help or do you want me to leave you alone?” you asked, not wanting him to get frustrated with you fussing over him.

“It’s fine, I got it.” He tried to get up again but was still in pain. His lungs hurt and he felt nauseous. You rushed to his side, clearing the bed of the mess so he could sit up against the headboard.

“I’ll get a doctor. You wait here.” You rushed out of your room before he could protest. That damn abnormal titan’s hand collided with his chest when it sliced him and he must’ve been running on adrenaline until now so he hadn’t felt its effects. A few minutes later you entered with a doctor. She examined him and determined he’d broken a few ribs, prescribing him with pain killers and a healthy dose of bed rest. Levi wasn’t thrilled with the news.

“I’m not resting. I have too much to do,” he said angrily, trying to stand up once again. The doctor quickly left the room, not wanting to be swept up in Levi’s tantrum.

You pushed him back on the bed by the shoulder. “No you don’t, mister. You’re resting, doctor’s orders. I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore. If you want to get back to work, you have to recover fully and I’ll make sure you do just that. Now wait here. I’m getting you a damn shirt.”

Chapter 9

A/N: just wanted to give a big thank you to everyone who’s read not just this series, but all my work!! I truly appreciate any likes, reblogs, and comments you guys leave me, it makes me smile to know people are enjoying my writing! Series writing is something I’ve never dabbled in before but the chapters seem to flow well and I feel like I’m doing alright (if not please let me know lmao). Also my requests are open if you ever want a one shot, drabble, headcannons, etc. Thanks again, I love you all so so much!! <3

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi ackerman x reader fluff #levi fluff #levi angst

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