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mariacallous · 1 year

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Jack Welch, the former C.E.O. of General Electric, was “a plainspoken, homespun dynamo—a pugnacious gnome with a large bald head and piercing eyes that made him as instantly recognizable as Elon Musk is today,” Malcolm Gladwell writes, in an entertaining and probing piece in this week’s issue. “He was called the greatest C.E.O. of the modern age,” Gladwell notes, but he was, by modern standards, a difficult leader: one who “seemed to enjoy firing people,” who “was most comfortable reducing anything of value to a transaction,” and who spent years exploiting a loophole in corporate finance to amass riches for the company—only to have his scheme come crashing down during the 2008 financial crisis. How have his words and actions endured as corporate legend? What wisdom—or folly—has he imparted? Consider this: in 1995, at the peak of his career, Welch suffered a devastating heart attack. He would end up living for nearly twenty-five more years, but at the time, death seemed imminent. A priest wanted to give him last rites; his doctor operated a second time. What, then, constituted the dying man’s thoughts? “Damn it, I didn’t spend enough money.”

In late April of 1995, Jack Welch suffered a crippling heart attack. He was then in full stride in his spectacular run as the C.E.O. of General Electric. He had turned the company from a sleepy conglomerate into a lean and disciplined profit machine. Wall Street loved him. The public adored him. He was called the greatest C.E.O. of the modern age. He was a plainspoken, homespun dynamo—a pugnacious gnome with a large bald head and piercing eyes that made him as instantly recognizable as Elon Musk is today.

But, that spring, his fabled energy seemed to flag. He found himself taking naps in his office. He went out to dinner one night with some friends at Spazzi, in Fairfield, Connecticut, for wine and pizza. Then, when he got home and was brushing his teeth, it happened. Boom. His wife rushed him to the hospital at 1 a.m., running a red light along the way. When they arrived, Welch jumped out of his car and onto a gurney, shouting, “I’m dying, I’m dying!” An artery was reopened, but then it closed again. A priest wanted to give him last rites. His doctor operated a second time. “Don’t give up!” Welch shouted. “Keep trying!”

The great C.E.O.s have an instinct for where to turn in a crisis, and Welch knew whom to call. There was Henry Kissinger, who had survived a triple bypass in the nineteen-eighties, and was always willing to lend counsel to the powerful. And, crucially, the head of Disney, Michael Eisner, one of the few C.E.O.s on Welch’s level. Just a year earlier, Eisner had survived an iconic C.E.O. cardiac event: a bout of upper-arm pain and shortness of breath that began at Herb Allen’s business conference in Sun Valley, Idaho, and ended with Eisner staring God in the face from his bed at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, in Los Angeles. The first chapter of Eisner’s marvellous autobiography, “Work in Progress” (1998), is devoted to the story of his ordeal, complete with references to Clint Eastwood, Michael Ovitz, Jeffrey Katzenberg, the former Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell, Sid Bass, Barry Diller, John Malone, Michael Jordan, Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, David Geffen, “my friend” Dustin Hoffman, Tom Brokaw, Robert Redford, Annie Leibovitz, Steven Spielberg, and at least three prominent cardiologists. In one moment of raw vulnerability, he called his wife over to ask about the doctor who was slated to do his surgery: “Where was this guy trained?” he asked. He explains, “She knew I was hoping to hear Harvard or Yale.” No such luck. “ ‘Tijuana,’ she replied, with a straight face.”

The point is that when a corporate legend has a blocked artery, expectations are high. So after Welch published his own memoirs, the enormous best-seller “Jack: Straight from the Gut” (2001), one of the first questions that interviewers on his book tour wanted to ask was what he had learned from his brush with death.

In an interview Welch gave in 2001 for the PBS show “CEO Exchange,” hosted by Stuart Varney, Varney brought up his quintuple bypass.

Varney: Was that a real change in life for you? A change in perhaps your spiritual approach?

Welch: No.

In the Eisnerian tradition, a heart attack is an opportunity to take stock, to reassess—to perform a kind of psychic stock repurchase. Eisner was certain he’d glimpsed that kind of emotional recalibration when Welch phoned him that day from his sickbed and peppered him with questions about what he was facing. Eisner recalled years later, “As I was talking to him, I was thinking, Oh. This tough man’s human.”

So it’s understandable that Varney tried again, asking him whether he was moved by a sense of his own mortality.

Welch: You know what I thought, Stuart? Larry Bossidy, my friend at AlliedSignal, asked me, he said, “Jack, what were you thinking of just before they cut you?” I said, “Damn it, I didn’t spend enough money.”

Varney: No. Now wait a minute. Wait a minute. Hold on. Hold on.

Welch: I did.

Varney: No, no.

Welch: I did.

Most C.E.O.s, in their public appearances, are circumspect, even guarded. Welch was the opposite, which explains why he has been the subject of so much attention and scholarly interest. There were boxcars full of books written about him during his time at the helm of G.E., still more during his long retirement (some of them written by Welch himself), and even today, in the wake of his death, in 2020, the financial writer William D. Cohan has delivered the absorbing seven-hundred-page opus “Power Failure” (Portfolio), a book so comprehensive it gives the impression that all that can be said about Jack has finally been said.

Then again, maybe not. He was kind of irresistible:

Varney: It never crossed your mind that this is a major event? Your life is threatened.

Welch: It happened so fast that I honestly didn’t think that. We all are products of our background. And I didn’t have two nickels to rub together, so I’m relatively cheap. And I always bought relatively cheap wine. And I always looked at the wine price in the restaurant. And I could never, I swore to God I’d never buy a bottle of wine for less than a hundred dollars. That was absolutely one of the takeaways from that experience.

Varney: After the operation, you would not buy a bottle of wine for under a hundred dollars. And before the operation you wouldn’t be seen dead drinking a bottle of wine over a hundred dollars.

Welch: Right.

Varney: Is that it?

Welch: That’s about it.

By midsummer, Welch was in the office, doing deals. In mid-August—a scant three months after his bypass—he made the finals of a tournament at the illustrious Sankaty Head Golf Club, on Nantucket.

General Electric was formed in 1892, out of the various electricity-related business interests of Thomas Edison, the most storied of all American inventors. J. P. Morgan was the banker who put the deal together; the Vanderbilt family was involved, too. From the beginning, G.E. was resolutely blue-chip. In the course of the twentieth century, it was G.E., more than, say, A.T. & T. or General Motors, that was the preëminent American corporation. It was the stock that grandmothers from Greenwich owned.

During the nineteen-seventies, the company was run by the English-born Reginald Jones, a tall, austere man who was once named the most influential businessman in the country by his peers in corporate America. “Reg Jones, who is decisive, elegant, and dignified, is also described by GE people as sensitive and human; and the affection the GE family has for him is obvious,” Robert L. Shook wrote in his book “The Chief Executive Officers: Men Who Run Big Business in America,” from 1981. “He’s quick to praise and hand out credit,” one executive told Shook. “He’ll always say, ‘I don’t do it all by myself.’ ”

Jones made two hundred thousand dollars a year and lived in a modest Colonial in Greenwich. Jimmy Carter twice tried to get him to join his Cabinet. Several times a year, Jones would travel to Harvard Business School and then to Wharton, at the University of Pennsylvania, to take the pulse of the schools where the next generation of G.E.’s leadership was almost certainly incubating. The bookshelf in his office held volumes devoted to sociology, philosophy, business, and history.

“The General Electric culture is best exemplified by the concern we have for each other,” Jones told Shook. “Let’s say one of our fellows has a problem—perhaps a serious illness or a death in the family. I will usually do what I can for the family. And here we think that is quite natural.”

Within two years of securing the top job, in 1972, Jones was already planning for his succession. And, from the beginning, he could not take his eyes off a young manager at G.E.’s operations in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, who ran the company’s metallurgical and chemical divisions. As Jones confided to a labor historian years later:

I went to the vice president in charge of the executive manpower development and I said give me a list of the contenders for my job! And he gave me a list with 17, 18 people on it. And I looked at the list and I said, well, you don’t have Jack Welch there? Well, he said, well he’s so young. He’s kind of a, you know, not a typical G.E. guy. He’s a bit of a wild man and so on and so forth. I said, put his name on the list.

Why was Jones so drawn to Welch? The conventional criticism of hiring at the upper echelons of corporate America is that like tends to promote like. The Dartmouth grad who summers in Kennebunkport meets the young Williams grad who summers in Bar Harbor and declares, By golly, that young man has the right stuff! But in deciding to turn G.E. over to Welch, Jones was replacing himself with his opposite. Cohan writes:

“He was regal,” explained one former GE executive. “Jones just had an aura about him. I remember being in a room and when he walked in, it was like the king walked in.” Where Jones was reserved, Jack was gregarious. Jones was tall—six foot four—while Jack was short—five foot eight on a good day. . . . Around GE going to see Reg Jones was like going to see the president in the Oval office. Going to see Jack was like going to see a fraternity brother at a tailgate party.

Welch did not view General Electric as one big, warm family. He thought it was bloated and senescent. Jones was known for calling people when they lost a loved one. Welch seemed to enjoy firing people. It is quite possible, in fact, that no single corporate executive in history has fired as many people as Jack Welch did. He laid off more than a hundred thousand workers in the first half of the nineteen-eighties. There are lots of sentences in Cohan’s “Power Failure” like this: “Ten thousand people, or half the people who once worked there, were let go.” Or: “McNerney got the job after a rather infamous annual managers’ meeting in Boca Raton in January 1991, when Jack fired four division C.E.O.s. ‘You could have heard a pin drop,’ McNerney recalled.” Or, of an air-conditioning business in Louisville that Welch did not like, and subsequently sold off:

“This was a flawed business,” he continued. But the people in Louisville who made the air conditioners took pride in them and were shocked when the business was sold to Trane. “It really shook up Louisville,” he said.

He did not feel their pain. Quite the contrary.

Cohan gives us a lot of alpha-male straight talk, like the time Welch cornered Ken Langone, the billionaire co-founder of Home Depot, at a party at Larry Bossidy’s house in Florida, not far from Welch’s own place in North Palm Beach.

“Jack, get off my fucking ass. No business tonight,” Langone said. But Jack wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I need five minutes,” Jack insisted. They went to Bossidy’s backyard. “The party’s inside,” Langone said. “He puts me against the fucking wall. He said, ‘I want you to go on the GE board.’ I said, ‘What?!?!’ ”

Reginald Jones, one imagines, never backed anyone up against a wall. And he would never have been caught dead in North Palm Beach.

Did he see something in Welch that he could not find in himself? Was he so critical of his own tenure at America’s flagship corporation that he felt a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn was in order? The most charitable explanation is that the transition from Jones to Welch came at the end of one of the more unsettling decades in the history of American capitalism, and Jones may have felt that the sun had set on his brand of corporate paternalism.

After Welch, at age forty-five, was named the new C.E.O. of General Electric, Jones called him into his office to bestow some final words of wisdom. Another recent book about Welch, David Gelles’s “The Man Who Broke Capitalism” (Simon & Schuster), recounts the exchange:

“Jack, I give you the Queen Mary,” Jones said. “This is designed not to sink.”

Jack didn’t miss a beat.

“I don’t want the Queen Mary,” he snapped back. “I plan to blow up the Queen Mary. I want speedboats.”

Then Jones threw his successor a party at the Helmsley Palace Hotel, in midtown Manhattan, where Welch had a few too many cocktails and slurred his way through his remarks to the group. The next morning, Jones stormed into Welch’s office. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life,” he told Welch. “You embarrassed me and the company.” Welch worried that he would be fired, losing his chance at glory before it had even begun. Cohan writes, “He was despondent for the next four hours.” By lunch, apparently, he had put his existential crisis behind him. That’s our Jack.

Welch believed that the responsibility of a corporation was to deliver predictable and generous returns to its shareholders. In pursuit of this goal, he exploited a loophole in the regulatory architecture of corporate finance. Companies that made things—companies such as G.E.—had long been permitted to lend money to their customers. They could behave like banks, in other words, but they weren’t really banks. Banks were encumbered by all kinds of regulations that had the effect of limiting their profit margins. The markets considered them risky, so they paid dearly to raise capital. But blue-chip G.E. had none of those burdens, which meant that, when it came to making money, Welch’s non-bank bank could put real banks to shame. He then used the proceeds from G.E. Capital to acquire hundreds of companies. In the warm glow of G.E.’s riches, Welch articulated a series of principles that captivated his peers. Fire nonperformers without regret. Shed any business that isn’t first or second in its market category. Your duty is always to enrich your shareholders.

In his interview with Varney, Welch took a question from the audience about how, in enacting these principles, a C.E.O. could tell the difference between leaders who create an “edge” and those who simply create “fear.” Welch explained that there were four types of manager:

One who has the values and makes the numbers: love them, hug them, take them onward and upward.

Second one doesn’t have the values, doesn’t make the numbers, get them out of there. That’s easy, too.

The third one has the values, doesn’t make the numbers, give them a second and third chance.

The fourth one’s the one you’re talking about. The tough one. The horse’s neck that makes the numbers on the backs of people. The go-to person in an organization. And an organization that doesn’t root them out, can’t talk about values, can’t talk about the human equation.

In a perfect world, the interviewer would have asked a follow-up question: What are these “values” that you’re talking about? Surely the desire to meet Wall Street’s quarterly estimates—as much as it felt like a value in Welch’s universe—does not amount to an actual moral belief system. And then perhaps a second follow-up: Doesn’t the fourth category—the “tough” manager who makes the numbers but does not have the values—sound a lot like you, Mr. Welch?

But few ever asked questions like that of Welch. So the man himself remains opaque, and the best we can do is try to piece together the clues scattered throughout “Power Failure.”

One time in Welch’s senior year of high school, his hockey team lost to a crosstown rival, and Jack, who had scored his team’s only two goals, threw his stick in anger. Cohan writes:

Next thing he knew, his mother was in the locker room. She bounded right up to him, oblivious to the fact that the guys around her were in various states of undress. She grabbed him by the jersey in front of everyone. “You punk,” she yelled at him. “If you don’t know how to lose, you’ll never know how to win. If you don’t know this, you don’t belong anywhere.” He paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “She was a powerhouse,” he said. “I loved her beyond comprehension.”

After college, at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, he earned a Ph.D. in chemical engineering at the University of Illinois. His thesis was on condensation in nuclear power plants. “I thought it was the most important thing in my life,” he tells Cohan. For many people, years of immersion in a complex intellectual endeavor would leave an imprint. Not for Welch. Condensation in nuclear power plants does not come up again.

Golf, by contrast, was “one of the few constants in Jack’s life,” Cohan writes. “One way or another, there was always golf.” But did he like the game for its own sake? Or was it simply, to adapt Clausewitz’s dictum, the continuation of business by other means? After Welch left G.E., the details of his retirement package were made public. It included a pension of $7.4 million a year and a mountain of perks. He got the use of a company Boeing 737, at an estimated cost of $3.5 million a year. He got an apartment in Donald Trump’s 1 Central Park West, plus deals at the restaurant Jean-Georges downstairs, courtside seats at Knicks games, a subsidy for a car and driver, box seats at the Metropolitan Opera, discounts on diamond and jewelry settings, and on and on—all this for someone worth an estimated nine hundred million dollars. And then, finally, G.E. agreed to pay the monthly dues at the four golf clubs where he played. It would be nice to hear from the high-priced attorney who negotiated that last line item. Would it have been a deal breaker? Did Welch believe golf had been so central to his performance as C.E.O. that it made sense for the company’s shareholders to pay those monthly dues?

A few months after he recovered from his bypass surgery, Welch went to see his heart surgeon, Cary Akins. They had become friends. “He was incredibly cordial for somebody who was that powerful,” Akins tells Cohan. Welch had wanted the operation to be done on a Friday, so that he would have three days of recovery under his belt before the news hit the stock market—and Akins obliged. Now Welch wanted to talk.

“You’re doing great,” Akins told him.

“Well, go ahead and ask your question,” Jack said.

“What?” Akins replied.

“Go ahead and ask your question,” he said again.

“What do you mean?” Akins responded, genuinely confused.

“Well, I presume you’re gonna want me to give you some money,” Jack said.

“You didn’t pay your bill?” Akins replied.

“Come on, now,” Jack said. “You must have thought about this. Do you want me to donate something?”

“Jack, it never crossed my mind,” Akins replied.

Akins had performed a feat of skill, born of professional dedication. Welch saw a shakedown in the offing. And maybe that’s the key: Welch was most comfortable reducing anything of value to a transaction. He gave Akins a generous donation—though it came from G.E.’s charitable foundation, not from his own pocket.

It has become fashionable to deride today’s tech C.E.O.s for their grandiose ambitions: colonizing Mars, curing all human disease, digging a world-class tunnel. But shouldn’t we prefer these outsized delusions to the moral impoverishment of Welch’s era?

“In all of our many discussions, the only time he spoke about his children was when he told me that he ‘loved them to pieces’ but that he had made ‘a mistake’ when he gave each of them a bunch of G.E. stock when he first became C.E.O.,” Cohan writes. Because the stock had performed well, they each had something like fifty million dollars in company shares. Although two of his four kids went to Harvard Business School and one went to Harvard’s Graduate School of Design, they all quit their jobs, disappointing their father. “They turned out differently than I’d hoped,” Welch tells Cohan. “We’re close. But they got too much money. . . . If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t have given it to them.” A father reflects, after a lifetime, on his troubled relationship with his children, and concludes that he should have adjusted their compensation.

As Welch prepared for retirement from G.E., in 2001, the search for his successor became a public spectacle. He identified three plausible internal candidates. Their faults and their strengths were openly debated. The financial press was riveted. The choice was up in the air until the last minute, when Welch settled on Jeff Immelt, who was then running G.E.’s health-care unit. Welch had had his eye on Immelt for a long time. Years before, Welch had sent him to Louisville, to run G.E.’s sprawling appliance-manufacturing hub there. The job was stressful, and Immelt’s weight hit two hundred and eighty pounds. “You’re never going to be C.E.O. if you don’t lose weight,” Cohan reports Welch telling him. “You’ve got to get your fucking weight down. Can’t have everybody fucking fat.”

When Immelt took over from Welch, he addressed a gathering of top G.E. managers in Boca Raton. “Only time will tell if Jack is the best business leader ever, but I know he is one of the greatest human beings I have ever met,” Immelt said. But by that point the Welch legend was so huge that such blandishments seemed obligatory.

What Immelt quickly discovered was that Welch had handed him a mess: a company built out of pieces that had no logical connection. Once the global financial crisis arrived, the elaborate game that Welch had been playing with G.E. Capital collapsed. Wall Street woke up to the fact that a non-bank was every bit as risky as a real bank, and the company never quite recovered. Immelt was eventually forced out, in disgrace. Almost two decades after Welch handed the reins to Immelt, Cohan met Welch for lunch at the Nantucket Golf Club. All Welch wanted to talk about was how terrible a job he thought his successor had done. The share price had collapsed, and Welch was disconsolate.

“He’s full of shit,” Jack said. “He’s a bullshitter.”

“But Jack,” I asked, “didn’t you choose Jeff?”

Yes, he conceded, he had. “That’s my burden that I have to live with,” he continued. “But people have been hurt. Employees. People’s pensions. Shareholders. It’s bad.” There were tears in his eyes. “I fucked up,” he said again. “I fucked up.”

As Cohan and Welch ate lunch, the golfer Phil Mickelson and the C.E.O. of Barclays came over to pay homage. Welch may have been long gone from the C-suite, but, in a certain kind of country-club dining room, he remained a rock star. Then Welch offered to drive Cohan back to his house, a few miles away. They got into Welch’s Jeep Cherokee, and Welch refused to put on his seat belt, so the warning bell chimed the whole ride back.

Off he drove. When he got to the left turn out of the Nantucket Golf Club, onto Milestone Road, he did something odd. Instead of keeping to the right side of Milestone Road, as other American drivers do, he decided to drive in the middle of the road, with the Cherokee straddling the yellow line. Needless to say, the drivers coming toward us on Milestone were freaking out. One after another, they all pulled off to the right onto the grassy edge of the street, giving Jack full clearance to continue driving down the middle of the road. He didn’t seem to notice. ♦

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pastordrnseharry · 2 years

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Ultimate Care Devotional ⛪

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2022

Today’s Theme: ⛪ STRANGERS IN THE WORLD

“Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give hear unto my cry; hold not thy peace at my tears: for I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were”

Text: Psalm 39:12

MESSAGE🍎

Strangers are people of different cultures and heritage operating on different lands. Strangers are foreigners operating on a different environment or nations other than their own. Believers are strangers in this world. We are in this world but we are not of this world.

Hear this: “Yes, O Lord, with thee, but not to thee. All my natural alienation from thee, thy grace has effectually removed; and now, in fellowship with thyself, I walk through this sinful world as a pilgrim in a foreign country”.

Thou art a stranger in thine own world. How? The world lies under the wicked arms of Satan. Man who forgets thee, dishonours thee, sets up new laws and alien customs, and knows thee not. When thy dear Son came unto his own, his own received him not. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not (John 1:10).

Never was a foreigner so speckled a bird among the denizens of any land as thy beloved Son among his mother’s brethren (John 1:11).

It is no marvel, then, if I who live the life of Jesus, should be unknown in the world and a stranger thereof.

Lord, I would not be a citizen where Jesus was an alien.

His pierced hand has loosened the cords which once bound my soul to earth, and now I find myself a stranger in the land, called this world. My speech seems to these Babylonians among whom I dwell an outlandish tongue, my manners are singular, and my actions are strange.

A Tartar would be more at home in Cheapside than I could ever be in the haunts of sinners.

But here is the sweetness of my lot: I am a stranger with thee. Thou art my fellow-sufferer, my fellow-pilgrim. Oh, what joy to wander in such blessed society! My heart burns within me by the way when thou does speak to me, and though I be a sojourner, I am far more bless than those who sit on thrones, and far more at home than those who dwell in their ceiled houses.

“To me remains nor place, nor time:

My country is in every clime;

I can be calm and free from care

On any shore, since God is there.

While place we seek, or place we shun,

The soul finds happiness in none:

But with a God to guide our way,

’Tis equal joy to go or stay.”

It is my utmost prayers that we will find peace to dwell in this strange land with hope of eternity.

PRAYERS

Heavenly Father, I thank you for giving me this understanding, that while I live in this world, I am not of this world.

Father, help me that while I live in this world, never allow me to make my bed with the world.

Help me to shut my eyes on the things of this world. Open my eyes to see beyond the shadow of this world.

Let thy good Spirit guides me to do your blessed will always in Jesus mighty name, Amen.

Father, my going out today is blessed. And my returning is secured in you through your covenant of life and peace in Jesus Name, Amen.

FURTHER BIBLE READING:

LEVITICUS 19: 33-34; DEUTERONOMY 1: 16, MALACHI 3:5

BIBLE READING PLAN OF THE YEAR.

MORNING: GENESIS, 9-10

EVENING: MATHEW, 9-10

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

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six-of-cringe · 3 years

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the hat was nice but...when will Netflix give Jesper the drip

#jesper drip jesper drip #i am manifesting #where are the fun colors? cmon now #give him piercings on god how marvelous would that be #somebody please draw jesper in the goku drip jacket #that would be funny i think #it would also be cool to see what traditional zemeni clothes look like because the books did not give us that #but let's not get carried away i'll settle for polka dots on plaid #jesper fahey #six of crows #soc #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #six of crows memes #soc shitpost

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avtrbee · 3 years

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late night punishments

this is my first smut so KJJSHDKFJ please send some feedback, i wanna know the areas in the fic that are good and the ones where it needs to be fixed a lil. enjoy :>

here's my masterlist

summary: gojo finds out you disobeyed his orders, causing him to give you a piece of his mind

warnings/tags: degradation, choking, spit swallowing (?), breeding, overstim, face slapping, gojo being a lil mean to y/n, smut so 18+ please

nsfw under the cut

You cried. You can’t help it. You’ve been on your back, fists crumpling the sheets in an attempt to grab something, and legs spread wide open for Gojo Satoru for who knows how long, his hand gripping your hip tightly that you were sure it would bruise, and the other one on squeezing your left breast.

You feel your tears stream down, mixing with the sweat and the saliva on your face. You were overwhelmed by the feeling of being too full, too good, too much, and above you, Satoru grins.

Your tears don’t deter him, instead, it encourages him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, 7-inch dick snug inside your cum filled pussy, pushing in and out all over and over again. You can hear yourself from the way your juices react to his cock. If anything his actions make you cry out more.

“Aw,” he coos, never stopping his thrusts, in fact snapping even harder, “why are you crying? What happened to all your bravado?”

His voice sounded so gentle, so caring, and soft. It almost fooled your almost mindless state, but you knew him well enough that it’s just a facade. He doesn’t care if he hurts you, as seen by the love bruises littered all over your neck that trail down to your thighs. You don't mind it though. You were drunk on him.

“C’mon, can you come for me?” Gojo asked, caressing your face. You merely sob out in response because you can’t, you’ve already come more times than you even cared to count, you’re spent and you’re tired. Satoru has also cum twice, and it marvels you how his dick was still that hard, how he’s still going. “I- I can’t- Satoru please-“

“Whaaaat?” He asked, slowing down his thrusts to a full stop. He looks back at you with half of his dick still inside you, a mixture of your cum and his escape to the sheets. For a moment your body sags in rest. “You can’t?”

“N-no…!” You cry out. “I can’t anymore, please.”

Satoru looked at you with his head tilted, as if contemplating your plea. Unfortunately, you missed the way his eyes glinted when he reached to pull out your vibrator. You were still comprehending how he got your toy and how he knew when Satoru thrust back inside you. You groaned, reliving the feeling of being full coming back, your pussy clamping at the sudden intrusion.

Satoru’s eyes rolled back to his head. “How are you still so tight?” He chuckles, flipping the switch of the vibrator. “I’ve been fucking you for hours and yet your fucking pussy still wants more. I married such a whore.” He whispers to no one, flicking your swollen clit with his finger.

He presses the vibrator’s head on to where your clit was, and you let out a scream so loud you’d reckon you would have woken half of the Gojo estate if there were any people. The benefits of being the only two Gojos were that Satoru can make you scream as loud as you can and no one would hear. It was too much, too good.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” he hissed, slowing down, but thrusting even deeper. “How you used this when I’m away? I could smell you on this toy, whore.” Satoru pressed the vibrator harder against you. You hear a switch and you feel the vibrator go faster, making you cry out, tears streaming down your face mixing with the saliva leaking off your mouth.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You gulp, trying to form coherent words. You were in a system overload, overwhelmed with how Satoru has been pounding in and out of you for hours, and now with the sudden intrusion of your beloved vibrator.

You really didn’t mean to. Satoru had made it clear that you were not to touch yourself while he’s away and in turn, he wouldn’t touch himself on his mission trip. Think about the desperate, mind-blowing sex we’ll do when I get back! He said cheerfully after seeing your disapproving stare. And while that was a good argument to make you last two weeks, you found yourself frustrated and angry and missing your husband just a little bit too much. “I-I just missed you, Satoru. I was n-never satisfied, it could never compare to you…!”

Above you, your husband's face morphed into an expression of displeasure. His piercing gaze stared at you disgustingly, as if you said something to insult him. “Oh? You missed me?” he asked with a high-pitched mocking tone. “Shut the fuck up, bitch.”

You felt a harsh slap on your face before his hand crawled on your neck and Satoru started to squeeze. The sensation made you tighten up with your eyes rolling at the back of your head. His pace was relentless still, never giving you a break. It wasn’t until you started seeing dark spots did Satoru let go of your neck.

You feel him toss the vibrator somewhere on the bed, and you could feel yourself flinching from its effect on you. Satoru’s hands found your face as he went deep inside you in a mating press.

“O-oh-“ you groan, enjoying the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Open.” He commanded. His hands squeezed your cheeks tightly, and with little to no resistance, you opened your mouth as wide as you can with your tongue sticking out. The sight of you made Satoru chuckle. You looked so helpless, so lost in the bliss of pleasure that you’ve let go of your composure. “Swallow.”

Blue eyes watched you eye the string of saliva that came out of his mouth that you happily caught on your tongue. His spit felt warm and different in your mouth, but the idea of him coating your insides that his cock could not reach sparked a flame in you. You happily swallowed him.

“I know we agreed on having no children,” Gojo started, keeping you in a mating press, thrusting inside you over and over again. “But I’m really tempted to make you a mommy, Y/n-chan.” He threatens, pushing his cock deeper inside you. “Tsumiki wouldn’t mind a little sibling and Megumi will be glad he isn’t the youngest anymore, yeah?”

Your eyes roll back to the back of your head, lost in the pleasure Satoru generously gives you. “P-please, faster- faster…!”

“Hey,” Satoru says before slapping your face harshly. His hand goes back to your face to grip your chin, forcing you to stare at his eyes again. “I asked you a question, Y/N. Don’t you want to be a mommy?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he lets you go and flips you on your stomach. You barely register the bed before a hand grabs a fistful of your hair, lifting you on your knees.

“Please, please be a mommy for me,” he whispers in your ear. He lets go of your hair and uses an arm to hug your shoulders closer to him. “Look over there, Y/N-chan.”

He guides you to look at the long mirror in front of you that you usually use to check your outfits before leaving. Now a reflection of your naked body stares back at you with Satoru behind. You see everything- from the bruises he left along your neck and thighs to how you desperately push your ass into him, a silent plea for his cock. Your pussy is dripping, so much so that the majority of your inner thighs are coated with lines of Satoru’s falling cum from earlier. If you spread your knees wide enough, you can spot more liquid falling directly out of your pussy to the bed.

You watch as his free hand opens and presses your stomach. “This stomach is going be full of my cum, and eventually, my baby.” He whispers in your ear. “I know I’ve already filled this tummy twice, but I’m gonna do it one more time. Just in case.”

“Wait, Satoru-“ You feel him aligning his cock back into your pussy- and then he thrusts, faster than he has before. You scream, both of your hands clinging to the arm around your shoulder for support. Satoru keeps you in place firm enough for you to watch yourself be fucked by him in the mirror. You see your tits bounce upon each thrust, and his hand pressing even stronger on your stomach. You look absolutely pathetic in the mirror, head barely supporting itself with your hair in a mess. There was a familiar feeling stirring in your stomach, an early warning that you’re about to come again, something you didn’t even know was possible up until this point.

“Ohoho,” Satoru giggles. He presses his nose to your ear as he whispers, his hot breath hot against your skin. “You think I can’t feel you squeeze my dick every time you hear me say that I’ll get you pregnant? “

Lost in the pleasure and in chasing your high, you involuntarily squeeze him again, earning another laugh from Satoru. “I’ll do it, Y/N,” he vows and you find yourself meeting each thrust he gives you. “I’ll get you pregnant, wifey.”

“I’m close-“ you gasp, desperately grinding yourself against him.

“Yeah? You are?” He asks and you feel the hand on your stomach crawl to your inner thighs before furiously rubbing your clit. “Cum then. Cum.”

You scream at the sudden overstimulation. Then finally you’re in your high, eyes seeing stars while milking Satoru’s cock so good. He stops rutting in you, lost through how good you feel around him squeezing again and again like he hasn’t fucked you for hours. You feel yourself shake at the near end of your orgasm until your legs gave up and made you drop on the bed. The bed thuds as Satoru falls behind you.

After a few moments, you breathe out a puff of hot air while staring at the ceiling. “That was great.”

Beside you, Satoru grins and it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is flat sticking to his face, and his blue eyes are so full of love it makes your heart burst. He kisses your shoulder so gently as if he didn’t fuck you to oblivion just a few seconds ago. “I know. I’m the best.”

You roll your eyes at him. God, you love him-

“Y/n-san, Gojo-san,” called a voice from your door. “I threw up.”

You whip your head so quick to the door only to find Megumi holding the doorknob. He was in his pajamas, with the stuffed dog toy Gojo bought for him on his other hand. He did look sick, your poor boy, but you really couldn’t focus on the child. You were too busy scrambling to cover yourself with the blanket.

“Oi, Megumi. Wanna have a little sibling?” asked Satoru playfully at the same time Megumi asked, “Why are you sweaty?”

“I want a little sibling!” shouted Tsumiki, rushing into your room. “I do! I do!”

Was she there the entire time? Your mind blanks at the thought of Tsumiki possibly hearing everything that you didn’t even notice Satoru smirk and you. “Told ‘ya.”

Megumi stared at the pavement beneath him wide-eyed and with a heavy breath. “They weren’t wrestling…”

He felt a smack at his back and flinched to his side, only to see Itadori’s concerned face. “Oi, Fushiguro. You’re not looking well.”

Megumi could only stare at him in shock. “They weren’t wrestling.”

"Huh?"

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader smut

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

pierced

idk what to tell you this is just 2k of pussy eating (don’t blame me blame eren brain rot)

18+, minors dni

part 2

“What did you do?!” You say, incredulously. It’s a rhetorical question, you can see exactly what he’s done. Eren stands in front of you, shamelessly, with his pants and boxers dropped to his ankles as his flaccid penis hangs between his thighs. Your attention is mainly focused on the brand new, shiny titanium barbell that goes through the head of his dick.

“Do you like it?” You can tell by his posture and the shit-eating grin on his face that he’s incredibly proud of his newest body modification.

“Why on earth would you get a piercing there?” The bulbous head is just few shades of pink darker than the rest of his pale shaft. You wince in your seat, imagining what it would feel like to stick a needle right through your most sensitive parts.

“Well, it was a dare and Jean bet that I wouldn’t so I had to.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, fully aware of how silly it sounds as he says it out loud.

“Of course.” You mutter. What other chain of events would lead to your boyfriend coming home with a fucking Prince Albert. “Does it hurt?” You lean in just a little closer and notice the little bit of dried blood where the jewelry pierces his flesh.

“Nah. Didn’t feel a thing.” He says with a wink and begins dressing himself again before dropping down on couch next you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

“You’re such an idiot.” You giggle, nuzzling your head into his neck, inhaling the heady scent you’ve come to associate with him.

“There is one thing though.” His voice is softer, lacking it’s usual self-assured tone. He can’t say that he’s happy about what he’s about to tell you. In fact, had he known about this small detail beforehand he might not have gone through with that stupid dare.

“Hmm?” You respond noncommittally, too preoccupied by your current task of leaving gentle kisses on his jaw and giving him the soft affection you know he loves but will never ask for.

“No sex for a month. Piercer’s orders.” His eyes drift down cautiously to gauge your reaction.

You stop in your tracks and frown up at him. At first you think he’s kidding but no such luck. “Oh my god.” You groan. “You’re such an idiot.”

Three days.

A grand total of three days.

It’s sad really, but you should have seen it coming. Like Eren Jaeger’s libido would ever let him go a whole 30 days with no sex.

He blames you and the way you prance around the apartment in those tight, short shorts. How is he not supposed to want you when he has to spend the day watching your tits bounce around in that white tank top, nipples just barely visible through the fabric?

It’s not like you put up much of a fight anyways. The way that man has you wrapped around your finger, all it took was a few well-placed touches and whispers of how much he misses the way you feel and the way you taste. Just like that, Eren has you naked, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with his face buried in your cunt.

“Love this pussy.” He murmurs, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Can’t live without it.”

He knows that he can’t be inside you. He knows. And yet he continues to torture himself because this is as close as he can get to what he really needs.

The rough pads of his fingertips massage your wall making you buck into his hand, silently begging for something deeper. He laps at you with his tongue, running it from your clit all the way down to your hole, licking up the slick that leaks out around his knuckles.

You feel the sparks of pleasure heating up your abdomen and you squeeze your thighs around his head, weaving your hands through his long, mahogany locks. ‘Eren’falls from your lips over and over in breathy mewls that only encourage him to keep going. His fingers put in double time hitting the special spot deep inside you while he seals his lips around clit and pulls it into his mouth. You dig your heels into his back to give you leverage to rut into his face as he pushes you closer and closer towards an inevitable orgasm.

You’re so hot and wet inside, squeezing so tight around his fingers. His mind conjures up memories of how good it felt to have your gooey walls clamping down on his dick and the soft cries you let out as he split you open.

He’s rock solid in his sweats right now and his cock hurts, sensitive tissue swelling and pulsating around his still fresh piercing. But he can’t think about that right now. All that’s on his mind is how badly he wants to be inside you right now. Any of your holes, it doesn’t matter which. But they’re all off limits.

Quite frankly, it pisses him off.

There is no choice but for him to take his frustrations out on your body. He slowly drags his fingers out of you, marveling at the way your needy cunt tries to pull him back in.

Before you can even protest Eren presses his fingers, still warm from your pussy and covered in your cream, against your lips.

“Open up.” He practically growls, voice thick with arousal.

You part your lips in response, letting him clean his fingers off using your tongue. Reflexively, you close your lips around them and begin to suck, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“God, princess.” He pants with his jaw slack. “Want your mouth around me so bad.”

It only motivates you to take his fingers deeper. Deep enough to make you gag as your drool runs down his knuckles while you swirl your tongue around his digits.

The way you look at him doesn’t help either. Usually you’d shy away from eye contact when he makes you do something embarrassing like this, sucking on his fingers like you’re sucking on his cock. But tonight is different. You stare straight at him with that heavy-lidded gaze, eyes glossy and full of want. The frustration is killing him, he can’t stand to look at you anymore so instead he gives his undivided attention to your cunt.

“Babe you wanna know something?” His breath fans over your soaked core, making you twitch in his hold. Something gives you the feeling that he’s not really talking to you, he’s talking to what’s between your legs. Although he’s not even looking at you, you still nod your head yes, so wound up you’ll take anything from him at this point.

“I read online,” He goes quiet for a moment, distracted at the way your weeping hole clenches around nothing, almost like it’s begging for him to fill it. “That dick piercings feel real good in pussy. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Eren bends down to lick at your dripping hole, he slides his tongue all the way down, making sure not waste a single drop, stopping just above the tight ring of muscle making your squeal in surprise.

”Can you imagine it?” He drags is fingers from your lips, leaving a path of saliva down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing the sensitive numb in slow, steady circles with his thumb while you fist the sheets trying to swallow the sounds he’s coaxing out of you. “How it’s gonna feel inside you? How it’s gonna hit that spot that makes you go dumb?”

Sure, he sounds composed but when you look down at him and see the way his pupils are blown wide, pretty pink tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth, you know he’s imagining it too.

“Gonna drive you crazy.” His calloused fingertips dig further into your pudgy thighs, clipped nails leaving little crescents indented in your skin. “Make you even more crazy for my cock than you already are.”

“Yeah ‘ren.” You gasp as he runs his tongue through your folds. “Wan’ your cock.” You babble mindless agreements at whatever filth he’s spewing, too fucked out and desperate for his cock to care.

Like the bastard he is, he chuckles at your response, satisfied with knowing that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He leans forward and presses the flat of his tongue against your entrance, telling you (wordlessly) what he wants.

Beg

He wants you to beg for it.

And of course you oblige. You chant out ‘please Eren, please Eren, please Eren’ over and over again as if you’ve forgotten every other word.

He rewards for your obedience by pushing the slippery muscle into your hole, nice and slow savouring the way your tart essence covers his taste buds.

“Fuck- more please.” Your back arches off the bed in response but his left hand splays across your abdomen keeping you in place.

His right thumb is still rubbing you, pressing harder, going faster while he drives his tongue even deeper licking up all of your juices like a man starved. He devours you shamelessly, the sloppy sounds only drowned out by your pornographic whining. He thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, fucking you with his tongue, making sure to taste every inch of you.

Your flavor is addictive, he can’t get enough. He grunts against with his face shoved against you, sending vibrations from your core, right up your spine. His fingers and tongue assault your pussy mercilessly, setting every single nerve on fire.

“Baby- ah- I- I’m close” you whimper, feeling tension brewing in your core, threatening to burst at any second.

“No.” The hand that was playing with your pussy comes down hard on your puffy clit, the sound of the smack echoing in the quiet room.

You let out a cry, so high pitched you can hardly believe it’s your voice.

“Can’t come until I do.” Just like that, he’s off of you completely, leaving you trembling without his touch.

The pain and frustration have tears brimming at your lash line. How cruel of him. To dangle an orgasm right in front of your face before yanking it away. You begin to stammer out pleas, begging him to touch you again, but they fall on deaf ears.

“C’mon princess. ‘S only fair right?” He looks up at you with the sweetest, emerald puppy dog eyes, juxtaposing the lewd way he licks the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips.

It’s not fair at all. You weren’t the one who decided to get their dick pierced on a whim. Why should you have to suffer? But there’s too much blood in your throbbing cunt and not enough in your brain so you can hardly put together a coherent sentence, let alone argue with him.

“Gonna edge you like this every day yeah?” He shifts his body to hover over you, using his arms to hold himself up so that his nose barely brushes yours and stray stands of his messy hair tickle the sides of your face. “Till I get to fuck you again.” He dips down to kiss you on the lips. It’s barely more than a peck, far too chaste and gone far too soon.

“Christ, I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

#eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren smut #aot smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yaeger x reader smut

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gladerscake · 3 years

Text

Hungry Eyes -Part 2-

(Gally x Reader)

Pt.1

Some of y’all have been waiting for this one, so here it is! Have at it 😉

Warnings: Smut. This is smut. NSFW. 18+ content. If anyone on the tag list is underage or uncomfortable with that, please skip this one. Thank you.

A short squeak escaped your lips as your back was deliberately and firmly pressed up against a tree, the little sound being promptly silenced by Gally’s eager mouth, his large hands latching onto your waist. He had carried you in his arms well into the Deadheads, where you were sure to be undiscovered, and clearly he hadn’t been joking when he hinted at the ‘trouble’ that awaited you after so shamelessly checking him out earlier.

Truth be told, you didn’t mind at all. This was the only kind of trouble you could get into, happily, over and over again.

Gally swallowed your soft whimper as he kissed you ravenously, like a man starved, his lips kneading against yours with enough passion to make you see stars, and he was just getting started.

Your mind was already beginning to get hazy, with the way his perfectly-sculpted bare torso was pressing fully against you, not leaving an inch of space between the two of you. He tore his lips away from yours and leaned down by your jaw, trailing against your smooth skin. A prominent wave of heat was gradually making its way down to circle your lower abdomen as you clutched his broad shoulders, your legs tightening their grip around his midsection. You were simultaneously bewildered and thrilled by how quickly your body reacted to Gally, how little he needed to do to get you excited for him.

However, even through the incoming fog of rising passion, the levelheaded part of you couldn’t help but question what he was doing. Or rather, where and when he was doing it.

“G-Gally…” You managed to utter in between ragged breaths as his lips were busily leaving a trail of heavy kisses along your unblemished neck “W-We have a hut…”

“Too far.” He grunted, his statement slightly muffled against your skin.

“It’s just across the-mmph!” You were swiftly cut off with another hungry kiss, your eyes snapping shut as Gally’s right hand moved from your waist to your hip, giving it a good squeeze before continuing its journey to your thigh. You bit back a moan as you felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, requesting entrance, which you immediately granted him. One of your own hands moved from his shoulder to the side of his neck, your body growing hotter as his tongue invaded your mouth, teasing and dancing with yours, a low grunt sounding from his throat. He tasted heavenly. You couldn’t describe it, you only knew it was something so raw, so bewitching, so unquestionably Gally... His kisses weren’t violent or overly rough. Just enough to showcase how badly he needed to have you closer, how ecstatic he was that you were his and that he was the one you wanted. The perfect amount.

Your levelheadedness was getting significantly harder to keep with each passing second, your builder’s raw magnetism shrouding you, pulling you further into him and telling you to stop worrying and abandon all thought that wasn’t about him. And you were already so close to succumbing to it…

With a valiant effort, you broke away from the searing kiss, your lips already slightly swollen in a most eye-catching way “Gally, it’s day time…”

Gally huffed, his plump lips etching with a mischievous grin as he leaned into your neck once more, a shiver passing through your body as he ghosted over the area, his warm breath fanning it, delicately “It’s lunch time.” He husked, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your thigh “Which means, all those shanks out there are too busy stuffing their faces to even notice we’re gone.”

You didn’t know if you agreed with that. You were certain a few people would surely notice. Your closest friends, mainly.

Yet, the part of you that was trying to care about that was rapidly growing smaller, weaker, as Gally’s lips grazed against your earlobe, another soft whimper falling from you when you felt the tip of his tongue tease and tickle the skin just below.

Gally must’ve noticed the slight tremble pervading your muscles - you could practically feel him smirking against your neck.

His grip on you tightened as he held you up, well aware of the effect he was having on you and enjoying every bit of it “Any other objections?”

Your body was dangerously close to going limp in his arms. And it could have - you knew he would never drop you. You were determined to keep holding on, though. The same couldn’t be said for your rational side, the one that hadn’t been sure if this was a good idea. Another lingering, open mouthed kiss that Gally pressed to your pulse point, and it was gone.

“No…” your parted lips breathed, your head tilting submissively back and giving Gally more space for his heated attentions.

Your boyfriend immediately took the chance to proceed, his talented mouth venturing down your neck, all the way to your collarbone. He was making sure to leave marks as he sucked, licked, and nibbled on your tender skin. He loved the sight of them on you, it filled him with sheer pride and got him even more riled up for you, for the entirety of you that was his to claim.

Much to Gally’s frustration, the collar of your shirt prevented his lips from going any further, and he grunted, lifting his head back up to you, his devilish grin returning at the beauty of your hazy gaze, your parted lips, your laboured breathing… You were exquisite to him, and he could feel the inevitable pressure rushing down his toned stomach and going straight below his belt.

“Didn’t think so, baby…” He chuckled, deeply, and then… in a flash, his quick hands grabbed a hold of the hem of your shirt, effortlessly whipping it over your head and tossing it aside.

You released a gasp, the cool air hitting your newly exposed skin as Gally licked his lips, trailing his yearning gaze over you. Your delicate shoulders, your enticing cleavage, your smooth stomach. You suppressed a little mewl as his calloused fingers danced across your skin, slowly tracing up to your bra. He outlined it with his index finger, brushing the cups and briefly slipping inside one in a teasingly provocative motion. An undeniably desirous sound tumbled from your lips as you felt his finger bump into the hardened bud of your breast, making contact for a mere second before retracting it.

The grunt of protest that escaped you, as well as they way you nearly glared at the loss of his sinful touch, brought a newly captivating smirk to his lips “Aww… Now who’s getting impatient?”

You were about to spit out a clever remark when Gally’s nimble fingers slipped behind your back and, with one precise and simple movement, your bra clasp popped open. Whatever you were about to respond with was momentarily forgotten as Gally stared at you, intently, his fingers brushing your upper arms. As he got to the straps, he paused, locking his piercing gaze with your own, as if asking for permission to keep going. It was touching to you. So sweet, that even when it was so obvious that you had no intention of refusing, he still wanted to ensure that you wanted it, that there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind. You knew that Gally loved you, he truly did, and he never ceased to show it, even in your throes of passion.

You responded to his silent question with a feverish nod and an excited little grin, relaying your utter willingness to continue. And with that, your boyfriend’s eyes flickered with a delightedly eager spark, his own grin mirroring yours.

You bit down on your bottom lip as he slowly dragged the bra straps down yours arms, the measly article of clothing falling, gracefully, off. Your body trembled with building desire as Gally marveled at the sight that was so graciously offered to him. This wasn’t your first time, he’s seen you like this before, been with you like this before, but it still took his breath away every single time. To him, you were something surreal, and he craved to worship every curve and crevice.

Your stuttering breath and soft whimpers graced Gally’s ears as his rough hands moved up your now bare torso and cupped your breasts, kneading and squeezing with simultaneous passion and care. The way your soft skin molded under his touch and fit so flawlessly in his palms sent another wave of urgency down his tense lower abdomen. The waistband of his boxers was already beginning to feel tight and constricting. God, the things you did to him…

Unable to bear the separation from his lips any longer, you pulled his head down for another heart-stopping kiss, your diluted moan mixing with his low groan of yearning as he devoured the glorious taste of you, his mighty chest pressing against yours, the contact of your heated bare skin overtaking your senses.

The heat pooling in between your legs was getting agonizing, swirling with a pulsing ache, an ache only Gally could satisfy. Suddenly, you couldn’t stand the fact that he was wearing pants. You needed to get them off, and you were determined to let him know that, as your fingers glided down his broad back, pinching at the firm muscle beneath hot skin before getting to the waistband and moving to the front of his belt.

Gally broke the kiss as he felt your dainty fingers fiddling with the clasp, your intent clear as day. A husky chuckle left his lips as his own hand moved down to help. You pulled his belt to release while he popped the button, the zipper falling open the very next second as his pants loosened around his lean hips. You breath hitched as they lowered, your lingering gaze falling upon the evidence of his desire, nearly bursting through his grey boxers and begging to be released. You were about to reach down your hand and palm him, when Gally, swiftly, caught your wrist mid-journey.

He smirked at your confused gaze with a teasing ‘tsk’, before moving your hand away and winding it around his neck instead.

Your head fell back, leaning against the tree bark as your builder dipped his head and trailed heavy kisses all across your cleavage and over your breasts, his hands at your hips as they felt on your skin and toyed with the waistband of your own pants, occasionally pulling and pinching at it. You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped you when Gally flicked his tongue over your nipple before capturing it into his mouth. You couldn’t hear anything except for his grunts, couldn’t feel anything except for the electrifying sensations that Gally was submerging you in. The center of your arousal was pleading for attention, for relief, for him…

“Gally…” You breathed, longingly, your fingers gently tugging at the short sandy strands of his hair as his mouth worked wonders on your breasts “Please…”

The builder’s lips curved in a tantalizing grin against your sensitive skin, his fingers skimming your lower abdomen and getting closer and closer to where you were begging to be touched. He undid your pants with ease, and the very next second, you choked on air as you felt his hand slipping underneath the fabric, two of his warm fingers making contact with your pulsing heat, tracing the folds with excruciating slowness. Gally groaned, low in his throat, as he felt just how eager and ready you were for more of him, the slickness coating his fingers serving as infallible proof.

His burning kisses inched back up from your breasts to your throat, where he licked and nipped his way to your mouth, his plump lips brushing your own and beckoning you to close the minuscule distance.

You wanted to, but the mind-numbing feeling of Gally’s fingers was leaving your lips to do nothing but quiver against his. The sensation grew tenfold as soon as you felt him brush your clit, stroking and circling it in a way only he knew how.

It was getting too damp, too scalding hot, and Gally could feel you squirming in his tight grasp. He knew you were more than ready, and so was he. His straining erection was beginning to feel almost painful as it throbbed and begged to finally be inside you.

Pressing another hungry kiss to your whimpering mouth, he carefully withdrew his fingers from your heat and hooked them to the hem of your pants, catching your underwear as well and tugging them down, until they fell at your ankles.

You wasted no time stepping out of them and carelessly kicking them aside as your wanting hands instantly latched onto his own remaining clothing, pulling his pants down past his hips, along with his boxers. You couldn’t wait any longer. You wanted him, and you wanted him, now. Right this instant.

His cock springing free and slapping up against his stomach, Gally exhaled, heavily, his arms wrapping around you and hoisting you up a bit as you held onto him, his ravishingly naked body pressing flush against yours.

A desperately needy gasp left you as he took his manhood in hand and positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of him teasing at your folds and putting you on the edge of begging.

“Gally…”

The sound of his name trailing so breathlessly, so yearningly from your lips, nearly made the builder’s head spin. He loved you, he wanted you, he needed you.

His mouth claimed yours once again, his burly muscles tensing and heat swarming as he, slowly, pushed himself inside.

Your back arched against the tree, a thousand electric currents shooting through your body as you felt Gally enter you, the consuming pleasurable sensation pairing with a slight sting. Even though it wasn’t your first time, your body still needed a moment to adjust to how big he was. Everything about your builder was thoroughly impressive, and that most definitely included his manhood…

With a few slow yet confident rolls of his hips, he was all the way inside, every inch of him buried within the warm, wet, welcoming heat of your walls. A low groan of pleasure rumbled within his throat as his head fell against your shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, his hot ragged breath washing over your hickey-littered neck.

“You okay, baby…?”

It only took a few seconds until you nodded your head, feeling your walls cave around him, accepting the presence of his large size “Y-Yeah… I’m fine, keep going…”

With your permission, Gally slowly withdrew with a deep grunt before bringing his hips back into yours, pushing inside once again. He began to set an even pace, his intense gaze never leaving you as he watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, your face contorting beautifully in pleasure as he filled your entirety, took up every little space within you, again and again.

Gally’s mind floated from the enrapturing sensation, in all his life he hadn’t imagined anything could feel so good. Your sensuous moans, choked whimpers, faulty gasps, your hands clutching at his shoulders and biceps so hard with every steady thrust he gave - all of it was working together to entrance him completely, making him feel like the two of you were the only ones on this earth, and nothing else existed or mattered.

“F-Faster, baby…” Your fervid plea reached his ears, coaxing a deep, carnal groan from him. His fingers were digging into your hips as he complied with your wishes, picking up his pace as he thrusted faster, harder, but still making sure he wasn’t hurting you. He couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you, ever.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your body welcoming the increased pace as Gally’s cock slid in and outward of you, repeatedly, much more easily now. You could already feel the coil at the pit of your stomach tightening, signifying your building orgasm as your pleasured moans grew louder. It was a good thing Gally had carried you so deep into the Deadheads, otherwise someone definitely would have heard you. You grabbed at his burly muscles, the heat of his body mingling with yours as he continued pressing vigorous kisses down your neck while he moved, his own climax approaching steadily and surely.

You were a mess of pleasure and passion as Gally rammed into you heavily, his hipbones crashing against yours, the tip of him reaching places so deep inside you, you didn’t know they were possible to reach. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, harshly, your nails digging into his sun-kissed skin as you felt yourself nearing the edge, about to tumble over at any second. So close, so close…

“Gally… I-I’m…”

“Me too” He growled, huskily, the knot in his lower abdomen nearing its breaking point, his mind paralyzed by your irresistible body, your hot, soaking walls clenching around him so damn tight. Knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, Gally reached his hand down between your hot bodies, his calloused fingers rubbing quick circles on the swollen bud of your clit, determined to get you to your sweet release before him.

“Let go, baby. Let me know how good I make you feel… Come on, I wanna see you fall apart…” He rasped, his lips a mere inch away.

That did it for you. The added stimulation of Gally’s fingers, the continued incredible pace of his thrusts, and those sensual worlds falling from his lips brought you higher as you sharply cried out. Your head tossed back, your powerful release washing over you with the force of a tidal wave. Your thighs quaked like leaves, your back arching as intense pleasure ruptured through your body, your hands clinging to Gally for dear life.

The builder groaned, deeply and fiercely, as the feeling of your release, your walls clamping down on him and your form quivering, triggered his own. He felt his manhood twitch, his hips stuttering as his climax crashed down on him, his muscular arms tensing as he released an almost animalistic groan against your neck, the pleasure so intense within his body. He shuddered, riding out both his and your highs as the euphoric feeling gradually dispersed, ultimately coming to a stop.

Gally was yet to pull out of you. The two of you panted, heavily, trying to catch your breath and calm your pounding heartbeats. He finally lifted his head to catch your gaze. A borderline drunken grin grew on his lips as he admired your flushed state - your rosy cheeks, your plumped and reddened lips, the stunningly dazed look in your eyes. In that moment he couldn’t think of a more gorgeous sight. He was the only one who could make you feel like this, the only one who got to see you like this, and the thought filled his entirety with unadulterated love and satisfaction.

“You good…?” He questioned, still grinning as he pressed a doting kiss to your parted lips.

You kissed him back with a blissful hum. Your whole body tingled, you probably would’ve collapsed to the ground, if Gally weren’t holding you up.

Your fingers affectionately brushed through his short hair, flicking away the beads of sweat that had formed on his temple.

“I feel absolutely amazing, my keeper…” You breathed, hissing slightly as you felt Gally finally withdraw himself from your core. His freckled face was an expression of pure heaven as he gently set you down, threading his fingers through your messy locks of hair.

“I love you, you know…” He murmured, amorously, placing a sweet peck to the tip of your nose.

The words made home in your heart. They never failed to make you smile, no matter how many times you heard him say them. You cupped the side of his face, your thumb stroking down his smooth jawline as you shared a glimmering, starry-eyed look.

“I love you, too…” You leaned in, catching his lips once again in a long, slow, and ardent kiss, conveying all the love and unfaltering devotion you two had for one another.

Your eyes twinkled with mischief as you reluctantly pulled back “Now, can we go eat?”

Gally threw his head back, his taut chest rumbling with a deep chuckle as he cheekily squeezed your waist “If you insist, baby. We probably need it, with all the energy we’ve lost…”

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @gallysonegoodlung @joemomma2121

#i really hope that didn’t suck #the maze runner #tmr gally #gally imagine #gally x reader #gally x y/n #gally x fem!reader #gladers #tmr #gally tmr #tmr imagine #gally fanfic #gally x you #tmr gally imagine #gally smut #tmr smut #will poulter #gally

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Once Again (Pt.2) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART TWO

Summary:

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback and for reading my work <3

< PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART >

----

He swings his beer over the counter, "one more."

He shouldn't be drinking. Imagine the damage it's doing to his organs, alcohol sweeping through his bloodstream and purging him of all coherent thought. Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa's nagging voice in his head even within the depths of intoxication.

Does he care though? He should. He should care. Because his job is basically to get people in their best shape.

And here he is, drinking away his sorrow, still shaken up by the way Hoisuke's fingers had grabbed for him that night. The bundle of nerves he'd squashed down had only intensified upon dropping his son on his mother's doorstep the same weekend and though he knew he should've said something to Mizune, he couldn't find the will to utter the words out, lest they came back to haunt him.

His phone buzzes in his pant pocket and after finishing it out with clumsy fingers, he manages to press down onto the green button.

"Yeah?"

"You're drinking!"

"No."

"Iwa-chan~" Oikawa's voice pierces through the receiver, sickly sweet and yet with a dark threatening undertone, "what are you doing?"

"Fuck off, shittykawa."

"Where are you?"

Iwaizumi doesn't answer. He doesn't need to, for Oikawa's already exclaiming the said bar's name as he takes another sip of his newly-filled beer glass.

"I thought you said you wouldn't drink anymore," Oikawa reproaches, "think of what Hoisuke would say--"

"I said fuck off."

There's a small pause where Oikawa bristles, before he says in a quieter tone, "what's wrong?"

Still, Iwaizumi says nothing but takes another huge gulp of his beer. His head feels buzzed, disoriented.

"Iwa-chan."

The said man press his lips in a taut line.

"Iwa-chaaaan."

"I'll talk to you later," Iwaizumi barely hears his friend's protests before he cuts off the call and downs the rest of his beer like a parched man, eyes narrowing towards anyone who dares reprimand him of his behaviour.

"One more," he rasps out towards the bartender, whose sending him a look that closely mimics one that clearly says he's had enough. But he scowls in response and that's enough to make the bartender's eyes slip away.

Seriously. What is wrong with him? It's already been four months goddamnit. Get over yourself. He wishes he could punch himself in the face. God, he sounds like a loser. He looks like one. And it's no wonder that his wife has left him for someone better, richer. Everything that he's not.

Not to forget that this wound will never leave their son's heart.

"One rum and coke please."

A presence lingers in his right and the brown-haired man turns with a glare at the ready, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line to scare whatever stranger that comes a little too close for his liking.

What the--

He stares at you. You stare back at him, just as dumbfounded. Looking the same, yet completely different.

"Miss Y/N?"

"Iwaizumi-san?"

He feels the sudden urge to hide his empty glass, "what--are you doing here?"

"Don't look so surprised, Iwaizumi-san," you chuckle at what you think is his flabbergasted expression, "I'm still twenty-six you know. I came here with a few of my friends."

His eyes slide towards the table in the far corner -- easy to spot since it's one of the loudest -- before he almost misses your question, "and you?"

"I come here often."

"Ah I see."

As you pay the bartender who slides your drink over, you bristle for a bit before you ask hesitantly, "mind if I sit here?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head. It's not like he can say no after all. You're his kid's teacher. And shit, how many beers has he had? He better not run his mouth. It's a dirty habit of his whenever he's shit drunk.

"So," you start off slowly, looking so out of place next to the said man with a scowl so dark it can scare off the most violent of gangsters that the corners of Iwaizumi's mouth tilt upwards in amusement, "how's it going?"

Seriously? You're seriously going to do that? His gaze searches your features for a moment, satisfied when warmth floods your cheeks.

You look away, "you don't have to look at me like that, you know. I just thought you’d want some company."

"What makes you think that?” Iwaizumi says while he flags down another beer from the waiter.

You blink at him, “I can go if you want--”

The man sighs, rubbing his temples with tiredness, “that’s not what I meant.”

A weird, empty gap of silence ensues. Long enough that Iwaizumi gets his fourth beer of the night in his hand and he takes a grateful swallow.

He really should not be drinking so much.

"Where do you work?”

You’re persistent. He’ll give you that, “personal trainer. I work at the sports academy.”

“That’s cool,” there’s a small smile edging upon your lips, “you like it?”

He nods, pauses briefly, before asking, “do you?”

Of course it’s a little too close for comfort, especially since you’re Hoisuke’s teacher and all. But you merely relax in your high stool, swinging your legs while nodding eagerly. He can’t help but notice the tightness of your dark jeans, your black high-heeled boots, “I don’t see myself working as anything else. I’m bad with people most of the time.”

Taking another swig of his beer, Iwaizumi feels the tension slowly ease up from his shoulders, “well you’re way better with kids than I am.”

“You’re pretty good with Hoisuke."

“That’s because you haven’t seen him throw tantrums.”

You laugh, "oh don't worry, I have. I know all about his little fits. All my kids have one, at some point."

You say it lightly, but there's definitely love laced in your words and for a minute, Iwaizumi thinks back to the way Hoisuke kept on praising you, the way he spoke so affectionately about you.

"Do you still play volleyball?" You ask him while sipping on your drink.

He mimics the gesture, "sometimes. The guys are all over town so it's harder to meet up now."

"Dang, your team was so good though."

"It was Oikawa that held us together. We weren't that good," he tastes the bitterness of Karasuno's victory on his tongue.

"That's not true," you protest, fiddling with your empty glass, "the only reason why I watched Aoba Johsai's games was because I liked watching you play."

Dark coffee-coloured orbs sweep up to yours at that statement, as if trying to peel layers off yout shell, as if wanting to confirm the truth of your words. You feel like cowering away but you don't, instead holding his stare in hopes that he doesn't notice how your hands tremble slightly underneath his scowl.

And then, features softening ever so slightly, he murmurs out, "thanks."

You know he means it in the best way possible.

-----

One drink turns to two. And two multiplies by four. And soon enough you're tipsy off your head and singing so blatantly off-key you wonder why Iwaizumi's still by your side. You haven't been this drunk in ages and this sense of freedom makes you bold; you tug him to the dance floor to join your friends, order shot after shot as the music gets louder and your head gets lighter, proceed to blabber your mouth off about literally anything and everything that by the end of the night, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you won't have to deal with Iwaizumi the next day.

You're not entirely sure how you find yourself being dragged by none other than the said man himself, or how your nose is currently lodged in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. But he smells good, like citrus and a mixture of mint and-- you sniff a little more -- is that cookie dough? Your mouth waters just at the thought.

"You smell like cookie dough," the words tumble out of your mouth in a jumbled mess and you inwardly feel like stabbing yourself.

So pathetic. Pitiful really.

"That's Hoisuke," Iwaizumi replies, surprisingly patient even when he's clearly not impressed, glaring at the lamppost ahead, "it's his flavour of the month."

"That's cute!" You giggle, "just like you, Iwa!"

The man sighs while shifting his grip upon your waist, "let's just get you to bed."

You probably doze off at some point or black out because the next thing you see upon opening your eyes next is the ceiling.

Hoisting your head up and groaning when your head pounds in warning, you lie back down as nausea takes over.

Shit. This isn't your room. You know that much.

What the fuck happened last night?

You remember dancing atop tables, remember spotting Iwaizumi by the bar and talking to him because he just seemed so sad and lonely. You remember dragging him onto the dance floor, dancing together, his hands on your waist--

You danced with Iwaizumi?!

The thought is enough to trigger another pounding. You groan once more, placing your hand atop your head in hopes that it will stop it from throbbing. It doesn't. But before you have more time to wallow in your self-pity, the door creaks open and your eyes almost pop out of your head when you spot a mop of brown spiky hair enter the room.

Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck. Your brain short circuits. Fuck fuck fuck.

Surprise crosses his face, clearly having not expected you to be awake yet. He walks over to place a glass of water by the nightstand and grabs your palm to tilt two aspirins into your hand.

"How's your head?" He asks.

"Fine," you wince. It's far from fine. In response, he holds out the glass and you gladly wash down the pills, warm and feeling suddenly vulerable under his stare.

Chewing onto the inside of your cheek, you muster up all your courage to ask, "what--happened last night?"

You don't miss the way his eyebrows shoot up, "you don't remember?"

"...no."

Is that amusement dancing in his eyes? You're not sure since it's gone just as quickly as it came before he says, "you got drunk. Danced on the table, had too many shots and made out with two different men--"

"I'm pretty sure the last part didn't happen."

"You said you didn't remember," he smirks lightly.

"I can't even flirt, let alone kiss strangers."

That earns you a chuckle from his part, causing your heart to flutter slightly as he straightens up, "you probably want to wash up. Bathroom's on the right. I'm in the kitchen if you need me."

"Okay," and as he turns away, you quickly add, "thanks, Iwaizumi-san."

He nods back, exiting the room and finally allowing you to collapse back against the bed to try slowing down your galloping heart. Jesus christ, you think to yourself as you slowly take in your surroundings. From the lack of furniture and with only a few clothes flung over a wooden desk chair shoved in the right, you guess it's his room. A closed laptop and a small plant sits on his desk. On the left is the nightstand filled with sports books and some manga, a closet shoved in a corner and the floor is made in veneered wood.

There's no sign of family pictures, nothing that indicates the warmth of a cosy household. It doesn't take a genius to understand why. While Hoisuke had begged you not to tell his father, you weren't a stranger to the young boy sobbing in-between breaks because he misses his mother.

Well, it's not like you're allowed into family affairs anyway, as much as that breaks your heart.

After a much needed shower and a quick brush of your teeth -- you had to make do with using your fingers with his toothpaste, too embarrassed to actually ask him whether he had a spare toothbrush -- you walk out into the kitchen to see Iwaizumi already seated at a quaint wooden table laden with eggs and toast. Behind him sits the kitchen stove and white countertops next to a fridge fitting snuggly on the left corner. On the far right of the room is a large dark grey couch and a tv set, and just behind it is a small hallway which seems to be the entrance -- guessing by the coat rack and array of shoes.

"Sunny side up or boiled?" Iwaizumi asks as you take a seat opposite him. He has already poured you a cup of strong coffee and you inhale before sighing in bliss. Your headache already feels slightly better.

"Anything is fi--" you're interrupted by his scowl, quickly changing your answer to, "sunny-side up please."

He grunts, passes you the plate and digs into his own fried eggs, the soft boiled ones forgotten at the centre of the table.

"Uhm, forgive me for point it out, but that's a lot of food Iwaizumi-san," you mumble out, not missing the way his features harden slightly.

"Force of habit," he mutters in-between mouthfuls. He doesn't need to say more, for you're pretty certain he's referring to the family he used to have, those lazy Sunday mornings that started out with brunch.

You eat in companionable silence and though it'a definitely less awkward than last night, your mind still races trying to figure out what to say to erase the permanent furrow between his brows.

Or is that his normal demeanour? To be honest, you're not quite sure yourself.

So you settle for thanking him for last night, to which he replies, "do you usually drink that much?"

"No," you duck your head, avert your gaze, "I got carried away. I'm really sorry."

"Well I wouldn't have expected my kid's teacher to be that wild," he muses while taking a bite of his toast.

Alarm zaps through you, making your eyes go wide, "I swear I'm not usually like that, really. I just--this was an exception--"

"It's fine, miss Y/N. I know," his brown pupils lock onto yours briefly, "I'm not going to report you."

"I--" nothing can really make up for your behaviour last night. You know that much, "still, I'm sorry. That wasn't appropriate," you glance up, chest tightening at the intensity of his stare, unflinching. Unwavering.

He cocks his head at you then, a semblance of a smile along his mouth, "I was pretty entertained, if you ask me."

"Was I that bad?"

"No. But let's just say that you won't want to show your face around for the next week or so."

You groan and bury your face in your hands, "what did I do?"

"You might've broken a beer glass or two," he gives you a look, "on purpose. And tried to steal the Dj's headphones cause he wasn't putting the music you requested."

"Oh god," you want to bury yourself right then and there and to your surprise, you see him laugh softly before he nudges your coffee towards you.

"Drink," he orders, "it'll make you feel less shitty."

You're about to retort with a roll of your eyes, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing. From the way Iwaizumi tenses, you know it's not just the mail man.

Excusing himself to go unlock the door as you twist in your seat to follow his figure, shock courses through you the moment your eyes land on Hoisuke's.

Then, his mother.

An alarm bell rings through your mind.

"I thought you said evening," comes Iwaizumi's grunt, totally unlike the guy who'd been chuckling a few seconds ago.

"Hoisuke wanted to come back early for some reason," the woman says, her gaze flickering to yours for a brief moment. It's enough to cause you to swallow hard. She continues, "I'll pick him up on--"

"Miss Y/N?!" Hoisuke shouts out suddenly and before you know it, you're being tackled into the child's arms as if you haven't seen each other forever, "what are you doing here?! Daddy!" he whips his head around in accusation, "you lied about not really really liking Miss Y/N!"

"Wha--No!" Iwaizumi yells as you frown in confusion, "huh?"

"Daddy said that really really liking someone means you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend with them, like he was with Mama before she moved houses," Hoisuke blabbers on, totally oblivious to how the three of you keep on staring at him in growing alarm, "and then I asked him if he really really liked miss Y/N because I really really like miss Y/N but he said no, but that's a lie!"

"Hajime, what is he talking about?" His ex-wife is quick to narrow her eyes, "what have you been telling him?"

"Nothing, it's not what you think--"

"I think," she pointedly glances at you, "I should leave now. We'll talk about this later."

And with that, she swivels around and storms out, leaving the three of you to stare after her in a mixture of shock and confusion.

Hoisuke, oblivious to the sudden tension, blurts out, "daddy, why is Mama angry with you?"

----

The few weeks following the tiny incident that had resulted in an awkward misunderstanding between you, Hoisuke’s parents and the said child himself had caused you to retreat back into the shell of professionalism that included avoiding Iwaizumi whenever it was deemed possible. It hadn’t been hard since he was usually present and waiting outside class to pick up Hoisuke right on time, making it much easier to avoid conversation with him altogether.

You’d texted iwaizumi right after reaching your humble abode the day he’d practically saved your drunk ass and though you spent a few spare moments to chat in-between the bustling activities of life, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s still Hoisuke’s father, one of your dearest students. That, and the fact that you don’t really find it fair to put Hoisuke in-between the two of you, if there’s anything worth digging for anyway.

Who are you kidding? It’s not like Iwaizumi would ever be interested in you in that sense. Having spotted his ex-wife once or twice proved that his style was of more refined women, the type that would drink wine instead of chug down beer and who’d enjoy gifts such as perfume and romantic dates instead of going on grocery trips and meal-prepping for the entire week.

“Miss Y/N!” Hoisuke’s voice pierces through your thought bubble and your eyes quickly find his grin as he jumps towards your desk, "are you coming to our house this weekend too?!"

"Wh--What? Uhm-- no I don't think so--" eyes quickly flitting over the classroom, you're relieved to find that the rest of his classmates are long gone, "I don't think that's appropriate."

"But why? I even told Mama that I wouldn't be coming this weekend because you were," he pouted and it took all of your determination not to melt, until his words registered in your brain and your eyes widened, "o--oh, but that's--"

"Hoisuke?" You both turn to see his father's head poking through the door. Your body reacts instantly, warmth flooding through your limbs and flushing through your cheeks.

"Daddy!"

"H-Hello, Iwaizumi-san," you bow your head slightly. He returns the gesture, facial expression not giving anything away. His son bounds up to him with just as much vigor, "daddy, can we invite miss Y/N this weekend too?"

You might have laughed at Iwaizumi's shocked face if not for the fact that you are the person in question.

He splutters, "Miss Y/N has things to do--"

"But she came last weekend!"

"Yes well, it's bad manners to impose on someone when they're not free," Iwaizumi replies sternly, "come on now, we're gonna be late for Karate."

With a loud sigh and a scowl that resembles so much like his father, Hoisuke mutters out his goodbyes while Iwaizumi catches your eye, bowing slightly and muttering a silent "sorry" before he guides his son out of the room. You're glad he's out of earshot that he can't hear the stuttering of your heart against your chest.

You place a hand on your chest, sigh tiredly before looking down at your students' papers, "get a grip, Y/N," you mutter to yourself.

But it's not that easy to control yourself when Iwaizumi is making it so easy to like him.

----

Iwaizumi: sorry about yesterday.

Y/N: it's okay. Hoisuke’s young, it's normal for him to want for a motherly figure around.

Iwaizumi's fingers drum over his knee as he watches with slight interest the newest male volleyball team practice their serves. He shouts after a few, calling them out for theit lazy postures, but other than that he can't seem to stop his thoughts from winding their way back to you.

"Who is she?" Mizune had asked him on the phone on the day following their encounter. Her tone was friendly, yet held that tone of warning that he was so accustomed to.

"How does that concern you?"

"I want to know who you're bringing around to hang out with Hoisuke."

"She's an acquaintance of mine," he paused, "and Hoisuke's teacher."

"That's inapropriate if you ask me."

Scoffing, he replied, "like what you did's so appropriate?"

A small pause ensued. When she spoke next, there was no mistaking the edge to her voice.

"You can't keep using that against me, Hajime."

"Don't tell me who I can or can't hang out with."

He'd hung up without bothering to wait for her response, seething and red hot with rage blubbering through his stomach.

Of course now that he thinks it over, Mizune has a point. Mixing the professional and the personal have never ended in happy endings. Not that this has ever stopped him before. He doesn't believe in what everyone else thinks is right. That's also one of the main reasons why Mizune couldn't handle it anymore. Or so she said before she went to suck someone else's dick.

His phone vibrates and fishing it out, a scowl instantly shadows his face upon seeing Oikawa's name flash across the screen.

Oikawa: Iwa-chan ~ have you asked her out yet?

Iwaizumi has to force himself to stay in control and not pound his phone to pieces when he types out his reply.

Iwaizumi: No.

Oikawa: BUT WHYYYY~ YOU SAID YOU FOUND HER CUTE.

Oikawa: and Hoisuke likes her. He already knows her.

Iwaizumi: I didn’t say that. And she's not interested.

Oikawa: Just because you suck at picking up cues doesn't mean she isn't throwing them at you 😏😏😏

Iwaizumi: shut up, shittykawa.

Oikawa: Just do it or I'll do it for you.

Iwaizumi: I don't even like her that way.

Oikawa: why'd you rant about not wanting to hurt her feelings yesterday night then?

Iwaizumi's hand rubs at his face with a groan. Oikawa's a little shit most of the time, but he's a perceptive little shit.

Oikawa: I mean it. Ask her out or I'll do it for you.

Oikawa: gotta go now. Match is starting. See ya!~ muah ❤

"Dumbass," Iwaizumi growls under his breath before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Easier said than done to ask someone out so casually, especially when she's Hoisuke's teacher.

If she accepts, great. If she doesn't, he'll have to suffer through humiliation for the rest of the year or avoid picking up Hoisuke altogether.

Oh fuck it.

He lets his body send the message before his brain can catch up to the way he has thrown himself under the bus, shoves his phone back into his pocket and tries to put the thought out of his mind even though the device suddenly feels hot and heavy in his pant pocket.

Iwaizumi: we're having takeout and movie night on Friday. You're free to join.

----

512 notes · View notes

skvatnavle · 2 years

Text

Turn the Page - Ch. 4: "City of my Dreams"

Rick Flag x OCF! Emma Johnson

Notes: I saw a video on tiktok and instantly knew I wanted a 'Rick chopping wood' moment, cause... It was hot.

Thank you once again @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading ❤

Warnings: No smut, but oh lawdy, I went overboard. Explicit description of Rick chopping wood, pining, lustful thoughts, kissing, a little fluff.

Words: 2343

It had been a week since the county fair and Emma was still on cloud nine. She found herself daydreaming more, spacing out thinking about Rick and their kiss. Well, kisses. And oh, what amazing kisses it had been. She would still blush at the thought of his amazing lips against hers, the way he pressed her body against his.

And then their ride with the Ferris Wheel, her snuggling into his side. When they reached the top, true to his word, Rick had kissed her again. Feeling like the lead in a Hallmark movie, it was the single most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. Rick was so gentle, so kind, and Emma caught herself wishing she had moved her years ago.

“Emma, are you even listening?”

She looks up, pulled from yet another stray thought. God, how long had she spaced out?

“No, sorry. I-I was thinking about some books I needed to order. What did you say?”

She does her best to seem indifferent, putting on a fake smile, but she’s too easy to read. Always had been. Dolores looks at her with a raised brow, clearly seeing right through her.

“I said… Did you have a great time with the colonel at the fair?” she smiles, already knowing the answer to her question. Hell, the whole town probably knew. Her and Rick had been the talk of the town ever since. People guessing what had happened, what they were.

“It was fine” she answers softly, quickly gathering some books and walking to another shelf, trying to avoid Dolores’ piercing gaze and shit eating grin.

“Oh, come on Honey. With that smile plastered on your face, it sure as hell was better than ‘fine’.”

Emma turns, wanting to rebuttal, but no words come out. Her and Rick weren’t exactly a secret, but he was still a little shy and she didn’t want to put more fuel on the gossip fire, afraid to scare him off.

But she also knew Dolores wouldn’t give up. She had to give her something, unless she wanted her to pester her for the rest of the day.

“Fine. We… kissed”

“I KNEW IT!” Dolores screams, drawing attention from people walking by outside the store. Mortified, Emme tries to shush her, but to no avail. Dolores is already spiralling, asking if they are official, when their next date is. When she blurts out if Rick wants kids ‘cause he’s not getting any younger’, Emma stops her with a soft hand on her shoulder.

Emma can’t help but smile, as she sits down in the seating area, finally giving in and starts telling Dolores everything.

Later that day, still giggling at her chat with Dolores, Emma is driving up the driveway to Rick's house. Dinner and a movie. A date. In his house. To say she was nervous would be an understatement. Well, maybe not nervous, more like excited.

She really liked Rick. Never before had she felt like this for anyone, the urge to smile just hearing his name. How her heart would beat faster just thinking about their kiss. She felt like herself around him, no need to pretend. Everything was easier with him, like it was meant to be.

Even Rick was different after their date, seemed more at ease, more confident. Like he’d been hiding and now all his walls were finally gone, ready to live again. Live with her. There were still things she didn’t know, but all in good time. Right now, she was just happy to see him again.

As she pulls up in front of the house, she’s surprised Echo isn’t there to greet her. Leaving the car, she calls out for Rick and Echo, but there’s no answer. In the distance there’s the unmistakable sound of wood being chopped.

Walking down the little path between the trees, the sound is getting louder. As she reaches the clearing, she stops dead in her tracks, marvelling at the sight before her.

Rick has a large log over his shoulder, lifting it over to a stump designated for the chopping. He managed to make the heavy load seem easy, like it barely phased him. Thoughts of how easily he could carry her, floods Emma’s mind. If he could toss those heavy logs around, lifting her would be a piece of cake. The knowledge of Rick being so strong was incredibly attractive. He could easily use that strength against her, and the thought was quite frankly exhilarating. How he without much force could drag her into his embrace, push her around… pin her against one of the trees.

Her face was getting red, and warmth spread in her body, making every nerve ending in her body tingle.

Rick’s shirt discarded, tossed over a branch, he was now only wearing his jeans. His tight, well fitted jeans. His chest bare, glistening with sweat in the afternoon sun. His muscular tattooed arms, biceps like none she’d ever seen before and toned forearms, his muscles dancing under the skin. His suspenders dug delightfully into his wide shoulders and the wide plane of his chest was only emphasised by the black suspenders, grazing his nipples with each movement.

Seeing him like that made Emma just a bit more flustered. Made her lightheaded, short of breath, as he took another swing, his pecs moving just slightly by the sheer force of his swing.

But just then something catches her eye. A big, gnarly scar over his heart. She thinks back to the story he told her, how he almost got killed. Looking at the scar now, she can’t even believe how he survived. Scattered across his body are other scars, some from cuts, some from gunshots. She can’t believe the things he’s been through, no wonder he wanted to get away. Get some peace. She has to look away for a second, not wanting to think about it.

A little glimmer of sadness grips her but is soon forgotten when she looks up again. As he throws another big log down, Emma bites down on her lip. It had to be heavy, so lifting her would be nothing. The whole scene is a bit obscene, the noises he makes, those muffled grunts going straight to her core.

She shouldn’t just stand there and watch, but she couldn’t tear herself away. There was just something about the way his shoulders tense as he brings the axe over his head before bringing it down, cleaving the log in two. Something about the strength of his muscular arms, covered in scars and tattoos. Something about the sweat beaded on his slightly tanned skin, catching her eye as the beads slowly make their way down his body.

Another grunt leaves his lips. His large hands twisted around the handle of the axe, his stance wide and his jeans tight against his thick thighs. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, before he takes another swing.

Emma’s mind begins to wander. Imagining what it would be like to have his large palms caressing her body, gripping onto her. What it would be like to have his tongue on her, tasting her. A breathy sigh leaves her lips at the thought, only made worse by the sweat dancing on his body, his damp hair clinging to his forehead.

Emma switches her weight, causing a branch to break. Rick looks up, a beautiful smile grazing his features, when he sees her.

“Hey there Sunshine”

He quickly notices the flush of her cheeks, her shortness of breath. It doesn’t take a scientist to see how worked up this little scene has made her and Rick smirks, clearly loving the effect he has on her.

“Could you hand me that water, darlin’?”

He points to a water bottle on a stoop next to Emma. Swallowing hard, she manages to move, her legs feeling like jelly. When she hands him the bottle, he takes a sip, a few drops dripping down his chin to his chest.

Emma must bite her lip to suppress a moan, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rick. Smirking, he lifts the bottle over his head, pouring the remainder of the water over his head to cool down.

Or to torture Emma, who knows? The way the water washes down his handsome features, dripping over his lips, sends another wave of heat through Emma. As her gaze follows the water dancing over his chest, down to his ripped stomach before reaching the little trail of hairs vanishing under the band of his pants.

Emma had never thought of herself as a lustful person, but right in that moment, it takes every ounce of self-control not to throw herself at him. The suspenders, now wet and clinging further to his body, begging for her to grip them and pull him closer. Let her tongue play over his skin, wet and warm, tasting every inch of him.

A hand on her arm pulls her back to reality, Rick looking a little smug.

“Maybe we should get you out of the sun, darlin’. You look a little… hot”

Back on the terrace, Emma is enjoying the sun, gently scratching Echo’s head as Rick is prepping dinner. In one corner of the terrace is a gorgeous outdoor kitchen. Apparently, Rick was quite the cook, and had always felt at home in a kitchen according to himself, so a great kitchen was a necessity. Who knew?

Emma smiles to herself, cherishing all the new titbits of information Rick gives her. He is so different from what she thought he would be, but she likes the Rick she’s gotten to know.

As he continues to talk about all the amazing food he wants to make for her, Emma’s mind starts to wander. He looks good, cooking. Swinging the knife like a pro, chopping the vegetables with ease. Her eyes trailing down his arms, the session in the woods returning to her mind. Will she ever get that image out of her head?

“Something on your mind, Sunshine?”

Your body. But she can’t say that, she has to think fast. Clearing her throat, she points to his arm.

“That tattoo… Maybe I’m mistaken, but the text looks Swedish.”

Surprised, he turns to her, lifting the sleeve of his t-shirt slightly, revealing more of the tattoo.

“It is. I lived in Sweden for a while, so I wanted a memory,” he shrugs softly, leaning against the counter, hands resting on the edge of the table. “How did you know?”

“My mom is from Denmark, so…” she shrugs, fidgeting with the beer in her hand. “Why did you live in Sweden?”

Pushing away from the table, he turns to the food once more, putting the meat on the grill before looking at her over his shoulder, smiling.

“My mom’s from Sweden. She wanted to go home, so my dad got stationed there for a few years.”

Unbelievable. They have more in common then she thought, both having roots in Scandinavia. She knew his mother was foreign, but not that they were so similar.

“I’ve even been to Denmark once. Where are you from?”

She tells him a little about her life in Aarhus. All the restaurants, museums, shops. Her favourite bookstore. Everything available at all times of the day. A fast-paced city that never really sleeps. With over 300.000 people living there, it was a huge contrast to the 5000 people of Columbia Falls.

Maybe that’s why she loved coming here each summer. It was so much more quiet.

As she finishes, a silence falls between them. Rick is putting the finishing touches on the food, while she looks at the sun on the horizon, slowly setting. Definitely more quiet. And she’s never felt more at home.

Emma looks to Rick, her curiosity not yet sated. She pushes up from the chair and moves closer, leaning over the counter, looking closer at his tattoo. Her fingers gently trace over the quote at the top.

We are such stuff, as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep. William Shakespeare. She smiles to herself, a little surprised. With his taste in books, she wouldn’t have guessed. Trailing down further, her fingers dance over the intricate calligraphy at the bottom.

‘Mina drömmars stad’. City of my dreams. Figures he would get the title of a book on his arm too. That makes her heart flutter, knowing he truly loves books as much as she does.

“You still remember some Swedish?” She bites her lip. She had always loved the language, well languages in general, so this just added to Rick’s appeal.

“Du är en vacker flicka” he smiles, a blush slowly creeping up his cheeks. You are a beautiful girl. Emma blushes, looking away. Damn, his southern drawl was sexy, but him speaking another language. That combined with earlier, she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. And beautiful? Emma can’t recall ever being called beautiful, other than by her mom. It was getting harder to resist Rick, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Rick cups her cheek, bringing her gaze back to his. His lips find hers, kissing her tenderly. Still getting used to his incredible kisses, she feels her knees getting weak. The few butterflies in her stomach now an entire swarm, as he kisses her more deeply.

When he breaks away, his hazel eyes find hers. His gaze is soft, yet so full of emotion.

“I really like you, Emma.”

“I really like you too, Rick” she giggles softly, giving him a sweet, quick kiss. He returns to the food, flipping over the meat, before turning his attention back to her once more.

“I… I’ve been through some shit. Things I want to forget, put behind me. And…” he huffs softly, trying to gather up the courage to say the next words. “With you I feel like I can finally move on.”

Tagging: @fictionalnerdery @loverhymeswith @yespolkadotkitty @lacontroller1991 @green-socks @violetmuses @babblydrabbly @all-the-things-i-done @11thstreetvigilante @maddu-oliveira @katjnordstrom96 @thrnlvr @whydoiloverickflagsomuch @bin-bones @spooky-ghosts @kirsteng42

Thank you so much for reading <3

Oh, and... Link to tiktok for those who are... Interested 😉🔥: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMLqW3AH2/

#rick flag x ofc! emma johnson #rick flag fanfiction #turn the page #rick flag #joel kinnaman

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

ice blue - tommy shelby x reader

a/n: hi lovelies! i literally just finished typing this and i’ve gotten so many notes on my preview of it that i literally couldn’t wait to give this to you guys. i really really hope you like it :) lmk if there’s anything in specific you guys want me to write, otherwise the next thing i’m working on is gonna be with john (i’ve already started it and this one is fucking hOt a bitch is sweating). as always message me literally about anything or if you want me to start a taglist

love, abi xxx

prompt: you’re back home in Birmingham and you need a job. Tommy Shelby offers you one.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, light choking, power kink oops

You stepped out of the car, cold air coming up to brush against your ankles as you shivered in the brisk English evening, wrapping your black wool coat tightly around you. You were once again new to Birmingham, having grown up there, but at the age of 9, you were sent to a boarding school in London after your parents were killed in a house fire. You had gone on to college, but had to drop out because you simply couldn’t make ends meet. Now, at the age of 21, you were back home, looking for a job, and as soon as you arrived, the first person to call was your best schoolmate, Ada Shelby. Ada was spunky, fearless, and didn’t take no for an answer, which was one of the reasons the two of you got on so well. She had insisted on taking you out to her family’s bar, despite your pleas that you were exhausted. Fuck it, you had thought to yourself. If you were going to go out, you were going to look good doing it. So, you slipped on your best set of red silk lingerie and your shortest black lace dress which dipped low to accentuate your breasts and applied a dark red lipstick as well as eyeliner. Underneath, you slid on a pair of sheer black tights and slipped on black kitten heels. You slipped on a pair of dangly silver earrings, admiring yourself in the mirror before you had slid your silver cigarette case and lighter into a black clutch, shrugged on your coat, and made your way out the door.

There, Ada had been waiting in the back of a Model T, looking gorgeous in a dark purple silk dress. She had greeted you with open arms and a huge smile, chattering on about how beautiful you looked and how much she had missed you. The two of you had managed to stay in contact throughout the years, writing letters about the current events, so you knew all about her baby, and pressed her with many questions about how she was doing. Now, here you were, in front of a bar, the muffled drunken shouts and laughter seeping through the brick walls.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ada grinned at you, nudging you with her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go in, and don’t worry about paying. This is my family’s bar,” she said, leading you towards the wooden doors.

“Fuck, Ada, your family owns this whole thing?” You marveled at the exterior of the building as Ada practically dragged you towards the double doors.

“Yeah, it’s all that and everything,” Ada waved her hand dismissively as she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get to the damn bar already, I need a fucking drink.” She pulled the doors open and the noise washed over you, the smell of alcohol permeating the air. The bar was dimly lit, with leather upholstery and plenty of drunk Englishmen. Bottles of spirits adorned an entire wall behind the bar in the rear. The noise swirled around you as Ada pushed her way through the crowd, determined to reach her destination. Finally, you reached the bar, and almost immediately a bartender appeared. You had known the Shelby’s were powerful, but Ada had never really talked about her family’s business. They must have been fucking loaded; the way people parted for Ada, you couldn’t even imagine the way they must have bowed for her brothers. You had never really interacted with them, but you assumed that was going to change. All you really knew about them was from the rumors, which were gruesome and plentiful.

“Give me two whiskeys,” Ada said to the bartender, who slid the glasses her way. “Thanks, Harry,” Ada yelled, handing you a glass and pulling you towards the rear of the bar, opening a door and ushering you in. As soon as you entered the room, the entire atmosphere shifted. This room was much quieter; you could even hear jazz music over the chatter. Smoke clouded the air, and you downed your drink to quiet your nerves, as you had realized that these were some of the most powerful people in the city that surrounded you. A maid appeared to take you and Ada’s jackets, and as you slipped off your coat, a wave of insecurity hit you. Ada was making small talk with an unfamiliar woman next to you, and you tapped her shoulder, telling her you were heading to the bar as she nodded, shouting after you, “When you come back, get me another whiskey!”

You laughed, turning and making your way to the bar, sliding into a stool upholstered with crushed red velvet. You motioned the bartender over, and as you waited, you took out a cigarette and lit it. The bartender set your whiskey in front of you, and as soon as you had picked it up, Ada had you by the arm and was tugging you to a booth, your whiskey and cigarette still in hand, your clutch tucked under your arm. In the booth sat three men, each of varying ages and all adorned in formal wear and newsboy caps, complete with glistening pocket-watch chains.

“Shove over,” Ada said, pulling you into the booth next to one of the brothers. “Y/N, these are my daft brain brothers, Arthur, Tommy, and John.” The oldest, sporting various scars across his face did little but grunt and touch his hat, getting up to exit the booth, and the youngest had already started bickering across the table with Ada, something about who was the biggest idiot. The middle brother, however, was fucking gorgeous. You already knew you were screwed. He had long doe eyelashes, framing ice blue eyes, and his jawline was neatly defined. His cologne alone was doing things to you. Get it together, you thought to yourself, downing the whiskey in your glass. The motion caught his attention and you felt his gaze on you, piercing your soul and sending goosebumps down your spine. He put his cigarette to his mouth and took a drag, and you couldn’t help but draw your eyes to the way his lips parted.

“You like Irish whiskey?” His smooth voice shook you to the core. You looked at him in shock for a second before quickly collecting yourself.

“I’ve always drank it, my whole family does,” you responded, your gaze lifting to meet his. He leaned back, eyes drinking you in. You chewed your lip, pressing your thighs together in an effort to quench the ache that had begun to form.

“Tommy!” A voice rang from across the room. The brother, who you assumed now was named Tommy, stood. “Excuse me for a minute,” Tommy said, stepping aside to converse with a woman you recognized as Ada’s aunt. The woman seemed angry, but then, from what you remembered, she always had. After a few minutes, she left and Tommy slid back into the booth, exhaling and shooting his whiskey. Ada and the youngest brother, who you had learned was John had both moseyed off, so it was just you and Tommy in the booth, in the corner of the room. Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and sighed.

“Ada told me you need a job,” he said, eyes lingering on you.

“I do,” you admitted, “but I don’t want you to feel obliged or anything. I can manage-”

“I need a new assistant,” Tommy cut you off, but you honestly didn’t mind. Something about the way he did it managed not to rub you the wrong way. “It’s mostly paperwork, but I’d pay you well. 40 shillings a week.” Tommy took the last drag of his cigarette, putting it out while still holding you in his gaze.

“I can do that,” you managed to blurt out. God knows what you were getting yourself into, getting hired by a man that not only had a notorious reputation but was making you trip over your own words. Something about the way he looked at you, though, made you say yes. You already couldn’t resist him. God damn it, you thought to yourself.

Across from you, Tommy pulled his jacket on. “Monday, 8 am. My office.” He slipped a piece of paper to you with an address scrawled on it, standing and leaving. As quickly as you had become intoxicated by him, he had left. The whole night, throughout all of Ada’s chatter, on the way home, in the bath, in bed, he never left the back of your mind. You wanted to be his, as much as you tried to fight the thought for not only your sake but Ada’s. You knew it was impossible, that he would want you like this, so you reserved yourself to daydreaming. His hands on your hips, his mouth on yours: you craved it, unsatisfied by your own touch even after multiple rounds. You couldn’t escape him.

***

You awoke nervous, stomach doing cartwheels. You hadn’t seen Tommy since Saturday at the bar when you had met, and the anticipation of seeing him and having to hold yourself together and not beg him to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture was almost overwhelming. You decided on a simple black blouse and a tight black skirt with black tights and heels. You pulled your fitted wool coat over your shoulders and stepped out into the cool British morning, horses clopping past as your heels clacked over the bricks, making your way past children playing and yelling. The wind whipped past your cheeks, staining them a rosy pink as you pulled open the heavy wooden door of the office building. The warm air surrounded you, and above the conversations between the workers seated and standing around desks, you could faintly hear Ada arguing with someone in a back room somewhere. The office consisted of wood furniture and a couple of separated rooms, you assumed, for Ada’s brothers, the heads of the company. The fireplace in the corner provided a much needed reprieve from the wind outside, and you slipped your coat off, hanging it on the coat rack. One of the doors read “The office of Thomas Shelby” in gold lettering, and you knocked lightly, not wanting to appear late on your first day.

“Come in,” Tommy’s voice echoed from inside the room and you opened the door, closing it slowly behind you. Tommy was seated at a dark leather chair behind a desk, taking a drag from a cigarette whilst reading from a newspaper spread out in front of him. He looked up at you, clad in a dark grey vest which hugged his chest deliciously with a white collared dress shirt and black tie underneath. Gold chains sat firmly on his biceps, ice blue eyes boring through your clothes and making your cheeks flush. He sat like a king on his throne, and it was tantalizing.

“Good morning, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke quietly but firmly, eyes trailing up to meet his. He cracked a small smirk when your gaze met his, and it felt like he could see right through your shirt and your black lace bra. It must be your imagination, you thought, that he could be undressing you with his eyes like that. Surely you were delusional.

“You decided to take me up on my offer, I see,” Tommy said, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest in a way that made you want to test his self control. “You know how to type, I assume?” His eyes flickered over your figure, lingering on the curve of your hips, making you feel like this wasn’t a regular business transaction. What you wouldn’t give to be one of the whores he visits in the middle of the night… You quickly gathered yourself together and responded.

“Yes,” you spoke. “I’ve worked as a secretary before.” Tommy nodded, standing and making his way around the front of his desk to lean on it, narrowing the space between the two of you significantly. “I’m not your normal businessman, you see,” he said, leaning back against the desk. “I keep odd hours, so if I asked you to stay late, would that be a problem?”

“No sir,” you replied, unable to rip your eyes off of the curve of Tommy’s lips and how they looked puffing at a cigarette.

“Good girl.” Your mouth dropped open slightly at his shameless assertiveness, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You couldn’t believe his forwardness, you thought, but you weren’t going to lie, it was fucking hot. Tommy grinned at you, turning his back to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the barcart in the corner of the room. He made his way back to his seat and placed the whiskey as well as the glasses on his desk, filling each and gesturing for you to sit with his hand. You sunk into the chair, legs crossed tightly in an attempt to relieve your throbbing core. You were absolutely fucked, you thought. Tommy opened a drawer, rifling through some papers before producing a contract typed in black ink.

“Cheers,” he offered you a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. You accepted both, quickly rifling through the contract and scribbling your signature on the last page. Once you signed, your eyes flickered up to meet Tommy’s and he grinned, boyishly handsome yet devious.

“To new beginnings,” he said, offering his glass to clink against yours. You downed the whiskey in one gulp as Tommy looked on, blue eyes drinking you in.

“Nervous, darling?” he drawled, puffing at his cigarette. You suddenly felt a rush of confidence you hadn’t before. You could play this game too, and if you were, you were going to do it well.

“No,” you shook your head, a shy smile playing at your lips. “Just want to get to the point, is all.”

Tommy chuckled. “A woman after my own heart, aye?” With every glance he gave you, you became more emboldened. Yet, the man was still your boss, and you were in no place to proposition him, so you had to play coy.

“If that’s what you’d like, Mr. Shelby,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you reached for your cigarette case, taking one out and lighting it, exhaling a small cloud of smoke. Tommy refilled his glass, taking a swig as he stood and made his way to a cabinet, retrieving a stack of papers. He made his way back to his seat, placing the pile in front of you.

“I need these transaction records typed up by Friday, end of the day. Can you do that?”

You nodded, pink-stained lips puffing at the butt of your cigarette. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy’s eyes flickered towards your mouth, and he took another drink. “For now, yes. I’ll have John show you to your desk, yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. Shelby,” you responded politely, putting out your cigarette. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as you left the room. As soon as you closed the office door behind you, you almost let out a sigh of relief. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been pressing your legs together, and they almost felt shaky. You didn’t know how you were going to get through another day of this, let alone the rest of the week. Fuck me, you thought to yourself.

***

The rest of the weekdays flew by, as you kept yourself busy with not only the work Tommy had given you but also managing his appointments and relaying his messages to his two brothers and other various family members. You got on with everyone in the office relatively well, most likely at Ada’s enforcement. She could be very assertive, but that was normal, considering she was the only girl with 4 brothers.

Your contact with Tommy, though often, was all business. He would spend hours at his desk, frowning down at various papers and logs with his whiskey and a cigarette, long after the others had gone home. He would always send you home though, telling you to get some rest. Though he was assertive, you found him to be surprisingly sweet. He didn’t hold doors for you or anything like that, but you didn’t expect that; you knew your place in the company. However, he never kept you late if you looked exhausted and would do small things, like let Ada interrupt your work with whatever news or gossip she had, and never said a thing, just smiled. However, Ada’s chatter had gotten the better of you and it was already Friday.

Around 8pm, after most of the office had left for the day, you finally typed up the last transaction log, sighing with relief and slumping back in your chair for a brief moment before straightening up and smoothing out your plum-colored pencil skirt and white blouse. You flipped open your contact mirror, making sure your pinned-up hair looked acceptable before putting out your cigarette, gathering the pile of papers and log, and knocked on Tommy’s door.

“Come in, Y/N,” Tommy’s voice came through the door and you shivered, already nervous not only to be alone with him but also about the quality of your work. You pulled the door open, closing it behind you and walking up to Tommy’s desk, where he sat in a light grey three-piece suit reading through a folder. A pair of gold spectacles sat neatly on his face, and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, making your mind wander.

“I have the papers you wanted typed up in the log, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke, clutching the book so tightly in your hand that you had to tell yourself to loosen your grip. “Is there somewhere you’d like me to put them?”

Tommy gestured with his right hand towards the desk, his eyes still trained on the files. “Set them on the desk, and stay.” You complied, standing in front of his desk, and Tommy closed the folder, placing it into a drawer and locking it, taking off his glasses and setting them down on his oak desk. He reached for the work you had completed, flipping through it and letting out a small grunt of approval. “Very good.”

A blush crept across your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Shelby,” you responded, trying to focus your mind on something other than the way he would look on top of you.

Tommy set the work aside, eyes now firmly trained on you. “Tell me something, Y/N,” he said, taking a draw from the cigarette in his mouth. “Have you ever been fucked?”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Mr. Shelby, I-”

Tommy chuckled, shooting his whiskey and refilling his glass from the bottle on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not asking if you’re a virgin. I’m asking you if you’ve ever been fucked, properly.”

Your face was a rose pink, and it wasn’t just from the embarrassment. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Shelby-”

“I think you do.” Tommy smirked at you, ice blue eyes tracing your figure. The heat between the two of you was practically unbearable, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing.

“No, not really,” you whispered, thighs clenched together as your eyes met Tommy’s.

Tommy smiled, almost deviously. “I didn’t think so,” he said, taking another drag and putting the cigarette out as he stood, coming around his desk and leaning back against it, eyes still fixed on you. “Do you want to be?”

You almost couldn’t believe the words you were hearing. Yet, Tommy was here, in front of you, asking if you wanted to be fucked by him. “Yes.” The answer almost fell out of your mouth, and your knees felt weak. Tommy wasted no time in closing the distance between the two of you, pressing you up against the nearest wall as his lips met yours. The feeling of his body against yours was better than you had imagined, and as his hips met yours, you let out a soft moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Tommy growled, picking you up by your legs and placing you on his desk, sweeping all the papers off with a sweep of his arm. A glass crashed onto the ground but he didn’t care, tugging his shirt over his shoulders while you removed yours. He pulled you against him roughly as he reconnected his lips with yours, his cock pressed up against your damp underwear. He stopped kissing you to let you pull off your skirt, discarding it somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your black garters and underwear.

“Look at you,” Tommy groaned, palming his cock through his trousers as he stared at your touseled hair and swollen lips and the way you were breathing hard. “All fucking riled up for me already, and I haven’t even gotten you naked yet, aye?”

“Mr. Shelby, please sir,” you whined, eyes widening as you realized what you had just said. Tommy’s eyes, however, darkened as he stepped inches away from you.

“Is that how you want it, huh?” Tommy breathed down your neck and you shivered, his hand gently wrapping around your throat. “You want to be fucked on the boss’s desk?” He reached his other hand down to cup your cunt. You squirmed in protest, pushing yourself against his hand as he chuckled darkly.

“You going to be a good girl for me?” Tommy cajoled, pressing his palm against your clit. You moaned, nodding vigorously as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He pulled your panties down, ripping your garters off and slipped a finger inside of you, making you cry out in response and clench around his fingers. He quickly joined that finger with another, pumping them in and out of you.

“Oh fuck,” you cried as you felt your release approaching. “Oh God, I’m gonna cum..”

“Cum for me then, pretty girl. Make a mess for me, yeah?” Tommy growled into your ear as you came all over his fingers. Tommy chuckled as you caught your breath, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

“God, you’re sweet,” he murmured, his eyes blown out with lust. Your breath hitched at his words and you kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pushed your back against the desk, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock before running the tip of it against your wet core.

“Please..” You squirmed against him in an attempt to get him to comply.

Tommy smirked. “What is it you want, huh?” You moaned in response, hips rocking up. Tommy’s hand made his way to your neck, holding it firmly yet not hard enough to bruise. “I wanna hear you say it, sweetheart. Maybe then I’ll give it to you.”

“Sir, please,” you cried out, hips still undulating. “I want your cock inside me.”

Tommy’s eyes dilated and he pushed himself inside of you, snapping his hips against yours at an unbelievable pace. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you were seeing stars, but you wanted everything he was willing to give you. He hadn’t even claimed you, yet you were already his. Your moans echoed throughout the office as he fucked you faster, your hands gripping at the desk, then scratching at his back. He didn’t seem to care about the marks, as he buried his face in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt yourself coming close to the edge once again, and you tipped your head back, crying out as Tommy fucked you through your second, third, and fourth orgasm. He had you over the desk, up against the wall, even on the chair, and you didn’t care. You wanted it just as badly as he did. Finally, Tommy had you on your back on the couch, hand around your neck as he fucked you. Your eyes flickered up to meet his as you gasped.

“Please come in me, sir,” you gasped as Tommy grunted, setting an unrelenting pace.

“You’re mine,” he growled as he fucked into you. “Every inch. If I catch anyone here even looking at you, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill them. You belong to me now, yeah?” He panted.

“I’m all yours,” you moaned at the thought.

“Mine,” he groaned, his cock twitching before he released inside of you, cum dripping down the backs of your thighs. It felt dirty, but you didn’t care. Tommy Shelby could make a mess of you in front of the entire World’s Fair and you wouldn’t protest.

After a moment of delirious silence, Tommy stood, lighting a cigarette and offering one to you. You took it graciously as he sat next to you, leaning back into the crushed velvet.

“So,” he said, blue eyes looking into yours, “I ripped your garters.” He reached into his discarded pants’ pocket, pulling out a 10 pound note from a huge stack and offering it to you.

“So you can buy new ones,” he spoke, taking a drag from his cigarette.

You accepted it, taking a drag from your cigarette. “So, would this make me a whore now?”

Tommy chuckled. “We’re all whores, Y/N. We just sell different parts.” He took a puff from his cigarette, exhaling softly. “But now, you’re with me. You’re going to have to get used to nicer things, yeah?” His eyes traced your figure before coming back to yours, smiling softly.

“If you say so, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled shyly before putting your cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and retrieving your discarded clothing from around the room, putting it on one piece at a time. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as he drank from his glass, and you liked it. Before you could start to make your way to the door, Tommy quickly pressed you up against his desk in a passionate kiss.

He broke the kiss, smirking slightly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

You looked up at him inquisitively. “But I haven’t even given you my number.”

Tommy grinned. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll get it,” he said, eyes drifting after your figure as you headed for the door. Before you left, you looked up into his ice blue eyes. “Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tommy responded. You closed the door behind you, taking a deep breath after you left his office, already craving his touch on you again.

Tommy Shelby was going to be the goddamn death of you.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #john shelby smut

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years

Text

Birds of a Feather

Chapter 5

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Violence, open wound (minor), smut, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, fingering, unprotected sex, masturbation (m), virgin!Levi, virgin!reader, mutual virginity loss, tooth rotting fluff, gets a little angtsy towards the end.

Word Count: 13.2K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in The Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest... and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Series Masterlist

A/N: oh my god picking out those words and selecting them individually to bolden them cuz tumblr doesn’t know how to copy and paste correctly was TEDIOUS. it gives the effect i wanted but jfc tumblr learn how to copy and paste bold and italics jeez. this was definitely the most fun chapter, as you shall see. this was supposed to contain more than just smut but i got super carried away and it would have been like, 22K if i paired it with the next one, so the next chapter will take a little longer, but i’ll make a post about that separately after this one. hope you all enjoy!

18+ MINORS DNI

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

“Levi?! You fucking idiot, you could have died!” it was the last thing you’d expected to come back to after a few days away. After spending some time with the strange man who took you in three years ago, Viper, he called himself, you were excited to come back to the small house you had with your best, and possibly only, friend outside The Nest.

What you weren’t expecting was to find him, propped up against the small wooden table in the centre of the room, shirtless, slowly bleeding out through his shoulder. You didn’t know where the other two were, and in fact, that was your first question.

“Where the hell are Isobel and Farlan, and why the fuck haven’t they sorted you out?” you stormed across the room, setting your bag down on one of the kitchen chairs before assessing his injury.

“First of all… I didn’t die. Second of all… shit… they’re out buying ODM parts after Isa’s shitty landing the other day, and th-fuck-thirdly, this only happened today. They’d just left when I got back,” Levi grit his teeth as you gently prodded the wound. Shit this fucking hurt. It was a stab wound from a shitty bartender in a shitty part of town who decided he didn’t like Levi’s shitty attitude. Honestly, looking back…

He couldn’t blame him.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“You’ve said that already,”

“This isn’t funny, Levi,” you huffed, turning to rifle through the bag you’d haphazardly dumped on the chair. You’d never been so thankful for Viper’s weird yet wonderful survival lessons. Over the last three days, he’d taught you basic medical training. You had no idea how the fuck he knew how to apply a tourniquet or sew wounds, but you never questioned the man. He reminded you of your father in some ways.

Just a little more violent.

“Stay still, it needs to be cleaned,” you brought out a small bottle of whiskey, a gift from one of Viper’s associates. His “Shadows”, or something.

Levi narrowed his eyes as you began taking out various pieces of equipment, and couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the expensive looking bottle.

“Where the fuck did you get these things, (Y/N)?” he breathed, glancing between the medical supplies and your face. Levi hated how he didn’t know what you did. He didn’t know where you went for days, and it worried him when you didn’t return when you said you would. He was always worried about you. Instantly missing the warmth of your smile as soon as you left.

“That’s not important right now. I need you to hold still, this is going to hurt,” his face heated slightly as you searched him, that apologetic guilt in your expression made him want to hold you and tell you everything was okay.

But he wouldn’t.

Because you two were friends.

And had been for years.

Despite his budding feelings, he would never cross that line with you.

Unless you wanted to, of course…

“It’s fine. Do what you gotta do,” he responded flatly, choosing instead to find the wooden skirting board incredibly interesting to look at. Much more interesting than your face.

He couldn’t stop the pained hiss that escaped his mouth as the piercing sting of alcohol in a fresh wound clouded his mind for a moment, fist clenching as his eyes screwed shut.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” you muttered under your breath, hating every second of pain you were putting him through. But you had to clean the wound, and you had nothing else to use. You silently thanked the man called Wolf for the burning liquor, not expecting to use it in quite a way. Screwing the lid back on the amber bottle, you set it to one side, gently dabbing the torn flesh with a cotton bud.

“Levi, this is going to need stitches. Shit, what were you stabbed with, a fucking sword?” This was one of the things he loved most about you. No matter how dire or stressful the situation, you could always crack a joke, even whilst keeping a straight face.

“Kitchen knife. Pretty standard for the tavern–”

“THAT MOTHERFUCKER AGAIN?” yeah, this wasn’t the first time Levi had been met with problems from that place.

“Yeah, him. Got me good this time,” Levi almost laughed at your look of subdued rage. He knew how much you hated that owner. But that amusement was quelled when your rage was replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher.

He let the silence drag on as you retrieved a small needle and thread, not even questioning where you learnt how to do this.

“Sorry, this will hurt again, but not as much,” you warned him, your tone having dropped several notches to something almost melancholic. Angling the needle next to the tender flesh, you waited for his nod until you continued, trying to concentrate throughout the whirling guilt.

He’d gotten himself hurt. Again.

And you weren’t there for him.

Again.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” you whispered, pulling the thread through the wound, slowly closing the gaping tear.

“‘S’fine, I didn’t even feel it,”

“N-no, not that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Again,” this was the thing he hated most about you. You had a habit of blaming yourself for things you couldn’t control. You always felt like you had to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you always felt like you had to do it alone. It always took Levi some time and a long, long conversation to convince you that you weren’t alone.

“(Y/N), stop,” you immediately pulled back, scared you may have hurt him.

“Sorry! I didn’t realise it was hurting, i’ll try–”

“No. Stop,” he took both your hands in his own, making you raise your eyes to him. “You know thinking like that is pointless because I always manage to get it through your thick skull that I am in fact, not your responsibility, okay? It’s my job to get stabbed, to get shot and have random glass bottles thrown at me. It’s what happens when you steal a bunch of shit and sell it on. So quit thinking like you have to look after me. It should be the other way around,”

“Why? Because you’re a man?” your small, mischievous grin told him he managed to get his message across.

“No, brat. Not because I’m a man,” he stopped that sentence there, for he feared if he’d continued, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from confessing how hard he’d fallen for you over the last eight years.

You took his continued silence as a sign that the conversation was over. He had slightly lessened the guilt constricting your heart as you returned to stitching up the gash. It would definitely leave a scar, since you weren’t exactly adept at using a needle and thread yet, but at least he wouldn't bleed out now.

Finishing the final stitch, you cut the thread with a small pocket knife, tossing the blade on the table whilst you reached for the small roll of bandages. You think Viper would be proud of your work.

“This is about as sterile as we’ll find down here,” you comment absentmindedly, stretching out the bandage and applying it over his shoulder and across chest to secure it. You tried to ignore the subtle blush dusting your cheeks as his hard muscle flexed beneath your touch. You tried to ignore the almost mouth watering sight of his shirtless body when you first entered the room. Fuck, you’d tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he took your hands. Tried to ignore how honest he looked.

You tried to ignore how much you’d fallen in love with him.

But Levi was nothing if not observant. He saw the gentle rose petals blooming across your face, smirking slightly to himself at your reaction. Maybe…

Just maybe…

You two could cross that line.

He found himself missing your presence so close to him when you pulled back to admire your work.

“There. All done. Don’t move it too much because if you pull those stitches, I will hold a knife to your throat and you will apologise,” Levi rolled his eyes at your empty threats, internally chuckling at how over dramatic you could be sometimes. “Oh, and rub this salve into it if it starts to hurt. It’s a herbal recipe, supposed to help numb pain,” you left the small tin tub on the table whilst you continued to repack your bag of the supplies Viper had gifted you.

Levi’s eyes followed your movements as you effortlessly reached for the second roll of untouched bandages on the table. It was such a simple movement, but the way your loose shirt untucked from your leather pants, showing just a teasing amount of skin, had him readjusting how he was sitting. Shit you were beautiful. Since you’d both been managing to gain somewhat of an income, you’d been able to afford more food. He marvelled in the way you’d filled out a bit, your own lithe frame rippling with muscle. Granted, you were still dangerously skinny, but that was to be expected down here.

Packing away the final set of stitches, you collapsed onto a chair, once again running a hand through your hair before cringing at the repeated action. You really needed to stop doing that, or your hair would go greasy.

Looking at the small fireplace kettle, you returned your gaze to Levi, who you noticed was still shirtless, and didn’t seem to have any interest in covering up anytime soon. You felt your face heat up for a second, before distracting yourself with something else.

“Tea? I feel like you could do with one,” you grinned playfully, already knowing he would say yes and rising from your seat.

Until you were forcefully shoved back down.

“I’ll get it. You’ve done more than enough,” Levi felt bad expecting you to make him tea as well, but you just didn’t know when to quit. Removing his hand from your shoulder, you stood up, now close enough to either kill him;

Or kiss him.

“Not happening. You almost bled out a few moments ago. I’m not letting you do anything, shortstuff,” you raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to challenge you. Which of course, he did. But not without smirking at the ironic nickname.

“I damaged my shoulder, brat. I’m not crippled. I can make tea for fuck sakes,” there was never really any malice when the two of you argued like this. It was a more playful back and forth.

It was only when the breath of your laugh reached his face did he realise how close you were and the two of you fell into a strangely comfortable silence, subconsciously admiring one another. Only, his view of your face was slightly obstructed.

Levi hesitantly brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, his hand hovering by the side of your neck. You could see nothing but admiration in his steely, maelstrom hues. Admiration, and something else you were sure you were reciprocating in your own gaze.

It was only then it occured to you.

And you didn’t know how’d you’d been so stupid to miss it.

Levi loved you.

Just as much as you loved him.

“I was worried about you today,” Levi murmured, prying apart the silence as his hand now rested comfortably on the side of your neck. He hadn’t missed what he’d seen in your eyes. A glassy reflection of his own feelings.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come back late. I just got caught up in some things,” your whisper carried so much tension he was tempted to grab the knife from the table and attempt to slice the air.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he opted to rest his other hand on your waist, gently pulling you closer to his body.

“Will you ever tell me where you disappear off to?” The question held no weight. He knew that if you wanted to tell him, you would. He also knew that you needed your privacy sometimes, and this was just one of those things you didn’t talk about. He just hated how his mind would race when you didn’t come back.

Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, pulse quickening to something you didn’t think possible as the hand on your waist caused goosebumps to prickle your skin. You learnt into his touch as his palm came up to cup your face, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek.

“One day, maybe,” you replied, your hand mimicking his own as you reached up slightly to smooth over his eyebrow, he in return mirrored your response, leaning into your touch. You stayed like this for what felt like years, until he spoke up again with a question that let loose all the caged butterflies in your stomach.

“(Y/N)... can I kiss you?”

Your lips parted as you let out a breath, unable to contain your smile of pure adoration as you nodded a little shyly.

“Yes,” Levi wasted no time. As soon as you managed to form a response, his lips were on yours. You gasped slightly against his mouth, arms moving on their own to wrap around the back of his neck and hold him close.

The hand on your waist extended to embrace your lower back as your lips moulded against one another.

Fuck, he’d dreamt of this moment for so long. And it was so much better than he ever imagined. Levi elicited a breathy moan as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore his mouth. Something he was all too eager to accept, eyes rolling as he felt your slick muscle brush against his.

Your hands travelled to thread through his hair as you subtly pushed him back to the chair he’d stood from. He seemed to get the hint, bringing you down with him as he sat, pulling you to straddle his lap.

You drew circles with your nails in his undercut, once again drawing another delightful, gravelly groan from his throat, lips still hungrily devouring his.

It was only until you felt his hardening manhood grind against your slickening folds did a thought occur to you, and you had no choice but to pull back.

“Shit, what about Isobel and Farlan?” it wasn’t a question he put much thought into answering, especially when you were scratching his undercut like that.

“Won’t be back for a few hours,” he mumbled, before reclaiming your mouth in an ever deepening kiss. You whimpered softly as he began to roam your body with his hands, grasping at your waist as you started to rock gently against his tented crotch, relishing the noises he made.

“Ah– (Y/N), sh-shit,” you peppered featherlight kisses along his jawline, stopping briefly to suck his earlobe into your mouth, his soft gasp only fueling your arousal.

His pants grew to whines as you moved down his neck, suckling and biting where you saw fit, leaving purple blemishes across his soft skin. His lengthy moan set your skin ablaze when you found his pulse point, licking a stripe up his neck before sucking on the sensitive spot.

By now, Levi was painfully hard. Wanting nothing more than to free his aching cock from it’s cloth prison. But you were the one in charge here, and he was more than happy to continue at your pace.

As long as you didn’t take too long.

He started thumbing the buttons on your shirt free, dragging it off your shoulders as you continued to leave marks along his collarbones. The clothing was quickly discarded, along with the bralet one of Viper’s escorts gifted you. Levi didn’t have time to admire your breasts within the delicate lace before it was thrown to the floor along with your shirt.

Pride swelled in Levi’s chest as you mewled against his skin, his hands gently kneading your now exposed mounds. He loved how your nipples instantly pebbled beneath his touch, rolling the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at your hisses.

“Fuck, Levi– shit that feels good,” your praise only made him harder as you sat up, wanting to feel his mouth against yours again. But Levi had other plans.

As soon as you raised your head from the crook of his neck, Levi ducked down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You cried out, back arching into his touch, hips bucking involuntarily. Levi groaned against your breast, the vibrations only adding to the sensation.

Your hands once again found his hair, gently encouraging him to keep going, his own hand rolling your other bud.

Levi switched sides, showing your neglected mound the same kind of treatment, and you couldn’t stop the stream of breathy gasps and desperate whimpers as he showered your breasts in physical praise, making a mental note of every reaction you made to his touch.

Finally you grew impatient, wanting to show him as much love as he was showing you. Your hands withdrew from his hair and you almost laughed at his disappointed huff around your pebbled nipple.

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll like this more,” your voice wasn’t one you recognised. It was lower, breathier. You’d never heard yourself sound like this before.

But what almost broke your resolve was the sound of his voice, showing you just how much your actions had affected him.

“Oh? But I was rather enjoying myself. I think i’ll just continue doing– oh fuck,” Levi threw his head back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as you palmed his length through his pants. Shit, your mouth watered at the feel of him. Harder than steel and girthy. You briefly wondered how he tasted, that particular spark fueling your next movements.

Slowly sliding from his lap, you left a wet trail of kisses down his chest, careful to avoid the wound in his shoulder. Your lips nipped at each of his abs individually before continuing down to the prominent V in his naval, tongue caressing the small dips directing you down to your goal, Levi encouraging you every step of the way with his sharp breaths and small groans.

Pushing apart his knees, you settled in between his thighs, grinning slyly as he looked down at you, wide eyed. His expression settled for a moment, hand coming to rest against the side of your face.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m more than happy with how far we’ve gone today. I don’t want to force you into doing anything with me if you’re not ready,” your heart almost fell to pieces at the sound of his concerned, yet still gravelly voice. Your coy smile softened to something so genuine and loving, Levi thought he had died.

“Trust me, I want to do this. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Levi,” you gently caressed his thighs, reassuring him that what you were doing, and what you were about to do, was something you’d longed for.

Levi’s smile was nothing short of angelic. He gently stroked your hair, and despite the heat of the moment, he still managed to make you feel so loved.

“Alright, but if you want to stop at any point, please tell me. I don’t want to make you feel obligated to carry on just because of me, okay?” you nodded happily at his words, giving his leg a small squeeze.

“I promise. Now shut up and let me suck your dick,” Levi laughed breathlessly, tilting up your chin as he leant down to capture your lips in a swift, affectionate kiss.

“You’re filthy,”

“Your fault,” you grinned, subtly fiddling with his belt.

“How is any of this my-ah fuck,” Levi cut himself off as he felt your hand gently grind on his length over his pants, the friction causing him to elicit the most gorgeous whimpers. You could definitely get addicted to the sounds he made.

“Nngh– shit, shitshitshit (Y/N) I– a-ah,” Levi stopped trying to form words as you slowly pulled down the offending clothing, leaving him in just his shorts, cock tenting painfully. You helped him kick his pants from his legs, joining the pile of clothes you’d made as you kept palming his dick. Neither of you had done anything like this before, both being too busy to engage in any sexual activity, but you felt like you already knew what to do. Acting off instinct, you adored his little shiver as you finally freed his length, your own folds slickening at the sight of his leaking manhood.

“Shit Levi, you’re gorgeous,” the compliment slipped out before you could rein it in, Levi’s cheeks heating slightly as your words reached his ears.

“Th-thank you,”

Your eyes took immediate interest in a rather prominent vein pulsing along the underside of his cock, and once again you couldn’t help but wonder how he tasted.

Levi couldn’t think straight. He’d touched himself before, jerking himself off when his hormones deemed it necessary, but he’d never felt anything like this. And when you took a hold of his length, he felt as if every nerve in his body had set alight. His eyes screwed shut instinctively, unable to suppress the breathy moan of ecstasy.

You started to slowly stroke up and down tentatively, watching the different expressions he made. You never thought he could look so needy, and yet here he was, mouth hanging open, brows knitted, eyes closed, a gentle flush dusting his cheeks. You smiled slightly at his breathless pants, taking note of how his breath hitched when you circled his leaking tip with your thumb, smearing his precum across his over his pulsing cock.

His hips bucked unapologetically, back arching into your touch as you squeezed him experimentally.

“Fuck…! Fucking— HAH, a-aah, oh my god… (Y/N), what’re you— FUCK… fuck, ‘feels so— nngh, feelssogood,” Levi’s words slurred as his head lolled back, sweat starting to bead on his brow. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, switching between gripping the table next to him and hovering around your head.

You hadn’t even taken him in your mouth yet, and he was already reacting so well to your touch. You watched him physically relax as you let him go, giving him some time to recover before you’d take it further.

“'M’gonna take you in my mouth, okay? Tell me if it’s too much or if you want me to slow down,” you rested your head against his inner thigh, admiring his fucked out expression as he nodded, his bangs sticking to the slick of his forehead. You could stare at him like this for hours, committing every part of his face to memory. But the temptation to show him how good you could make him feel was far too great.

Leaning forward, you gripped around the length of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip, relishing in the responsive jolt of his sensitive body. Shit you were wet, it was taking all of your willpower not to reach down and pleasure yourself. You knew your matching underwear was likely ruined, quickly lamenting the loss of such an expensive gift, but that thought was quickly extinguished as you ran your tongue along that delicious looking vein you’d clocked earlier.

“SHIT, oh fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck, (Y/N)... shit, (Y/NNNNN),” just as you thought your own arousal couldn’t grow any further, he whined your name and you almost came there and then. Smirking against his dick, you leant forward just a little more, and engulfed his tip in your mouth, slowly taking more of him.

Levi’s hips bucked into your warmth, unable to stop himself as his brain was completely consumed by the sheer, mind-shattering pleasure. He’d decided this was nothing like getting himself off. This was something completely different. This was on a whole other level.

When you had taken as much as you could of his length in your mouth, you started to bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled back to suck on his tip, before engulfing him again.

You could have sworn he almost screamed.

“Aaa-ah, you’re… you’re so– nngh, so good at this, HAH-aah, w-wait, fuck, s-slow down. ‘M gonna’– AH, ‘m gonna’ cum,” you did as he asked, taking your mouth of his raging length, gently caressing the base with your thumb as you waited for his laboured breaths to calm.

“Take your time, baby. Let me know when you’re ready,” even in his foggy, aroused state, he was still able to squint down at you with a brow raised at the new pet name. He couldn’t say he didn’t like it though, looking at your swollen, shining lips slick with your saliva and his pearly essence.

“Fuck (Y/N), you’re fucking stunning, look at you,” Levi tenderly held the side of your face, thumb smoothing over your eyebrow as he regarded you with such fondness. He hissed as you jerked his length in retaliation.

“Don’t be so cute, it’s not allowed whilst I’m sucking you off,”

“Technically you weren’t, you were waiting for me,”

“Oh is that how you want to do this?” you eyed him mischievously, and before Levi could even respond, you took his entire, swollen length down your throat, gagging a little at the intrusion before slowly getting used to him.

Whatever Levi was about to say died on his tongue as the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat. He had no choice but to surrender to the pleasure threatening to shatter his mind, his mouth falling open as you swallowed around his sensitive tip.

“Shit…! Oh fuck, oh fuck, (Y/N)– nngh, haaah, ah, fuck, don’t stop. Don’t… don’t stop,” Levi panted, only just able to form cohesive words as you continue to take him down your tight, warm throat. He sandwiched his bottom lip between his teeth, biting almost hard enough to draw blood.

Tears started to line your lashes as you suppress your gag reflex, swirling your tongue along the underside of his length. Your eyes rolled back as his hands found your hair, not to push you onto him, but just so he didn’t completely lose himself in the pleasure.

The vibrations in the back of your throat as you moaned only heightened the sensation, and Levi wasn’t able to take much more.

“Hhhh, (Y-Y/N), m-move away, i’m -shit- i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna fucking cum!” but you didn’t move, instead opting to moan more wantanly, lapping at his cock and swallowing him down your throat, your hands coming up to rub and cup his rapidly tightening balls. His thighs began to shake as he came undone, back arching completely off the chair. His head was thrown back as you watched his Adam's apple bob through wet lashes.

“Ah, hnng– a-AH, FUCK (Y/NNN)!!” Levi came with a broken, desperate cry of your name on his lips, his salty seed shooting down your throat. His hands tightened in your hair, clinging on for dear life as you milked him through his orgasm, sucking him dry.

It wasn’t until he’d completely emptied himself into your mouth did he collapse back on the chair, breathing as if he’d just run a marathon.

You released him from your mouth with a pop, tenderly kissing his tip clean before rising to check the state of your partner.

“Levi?” you giggled, moving to carefully straddle his lap so you could take his face in your hands. He looked completely spent, head heavy as he lazily grasped your waist. “You alright?” you thought your question fell on deaf ears, until he cracked an eye open.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I think you broke me,” you laughed at his tired, satisfied smile, brushing his sweat slickened locks from his forehead to lean against him.

“Was that okay?” you asked, searching his face for an answer. The grin he gave sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your already throbbing core.

“Are you serious? Yes, that was okay. That was more than okay. It was incredible,” he gently wiped away any salty tears from below your lash line. “You’re incredible,” Levi leant up to capture your lips in a tender, loving kiss. It didn’t quite have the same heat as earlier, it felt more fueled with adoring gratitude. You pulled back a fraction.

“Who knew you could be so vocal?” you teased with a lopsided smirk, earning yourself a small, playful nip on your lower lip followed by a low, breathy laugh rumbling from his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up brat. Not like I won’t get you back,” you hadn’t noticed his hand had trailed down to the crease in your thighs until a bolt of pleasure shocked your system as he slowly pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. “Speaking of which…” –he whispered, dark eyes searching your own– “Would you mind if I repay the favour?” Levi didn’t give you time to respond before his head ducked down below your chin, licking a long, deliberate stripe up the column of your throat. He smiled against your skin as you began to rock your hips against his hand, moaning and gasping with each movement.

“Mmn, Levi,” you breathed his name like a secret, shivering as he decorated your neck and collarbones with red and purple blossoms, leaving his mark on you.

“I liked the sounds you made when I did this,” Levi’s hand left a trail of goosebumps as he travelled from your waist, up you naval to your breasts, the pads of his fingers rolling the pebbled buds. Your needy cry caused his fingers to grind harder on your clothed clit, increasing the speed as you threw your head back, the pleasure consuming you.

“Fuck…! Levi… ‘need more… ple-HAAH, please,” you whined, lamenting the loss of friction as he guided you to stand. Your confusion was short lived when he pulled you back down to straddle one of his thighs, hands gripping your waist and encouraging you to drag your hips against him in a steady rhythm. Levi snickered against your neck as you gripped his shoulders, grinding wantanly against his muscular leg.

“Feel good?” he asked, brushing your hair back behind your ears as you nodded eagerly, too busy whimpering to form words. He could feel your slick soak through the leather of your pants before making the executive decision that you were wearing far too many clothes for his liking.

Levi deftly unclasped the front of your belt, chuckling as you refused to stop chasing your high long enough for him to pull them down.

“(Y/N), you’re gonna need to move,” his husky voice sent shivers down your spine, heightening the blissful sensation of your knot rubbing against his thigh.

“Nngh– can’t… a-aah! Feels… feels too g-good,” you were so close. That coil in your lower stomach tightening and you knew any moment, with just the right movement, it would snap and you would release all over his thigh.

Or at least, it would have done, had his strong hands not stilled your hips.

“L-Levi?! What the fuck? I was right there,” you pouted as he gently lifted you from his lap, tugging down your pants.

You felt a flair of pride as his jaw dropped at your choice of underwear, the deep red, intricately laced material covering only the bare minimum, accentuating the curve of your hips and the lean muscle of your legs.

If only you’d kept the bralet on. You’d give anything to see his expression when you rocked the set together.

“Fuck…” he breathed, standing from the chair and reaching for you as you kicked the pants from your legs. You smirked, seeing his length hardening once again.

“Hmm, like what you see?” you stepped back like a sly vixen, motioning him to come closer with a provocative finger. You saw his dick twitch in response.

“I’m going to fucking devour you,” your breath hitched in your throat as he caged you against the wall with his arms, his mouth hovering by your ear, soft whisper tickling your neck before it was replaced with his tongue sucking against your pulse point. You arched into his touch, smiling as he tried unsuccessfully to repress the small groan when your hips ground against his cock, your own clothed sex throbbing at the touch.

You’d completely forgotten about his hands until they travelled round to cup your ass, squeezing and moulding the cheeks in his palms. Your gasp spurred him on, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist, both moaning as you came ever closer to each other.

Levi held you against the wall, still nipping and biting at the flesh on your neck, sucking sweet bruises into the skin. Hoisting you up with one forearm, he let the other skirt between you, the pads of his fingers finding a home against your damp folds.

“Shit you’re soaked. You’ve completely ruined these, (Y/N),” he teased, gently rubbing your clit not nearly enough for you to find your high, but enough to coerce the most delicious moans from your throat.

“Mmn, worth it,” you grinned, head tilted upwards as he attacked the hollow of your throat with his mouth. His laugh fluttered against your neck, your hands finding purchase in his inky locks.

“C’mere you,” Levi’s playful tone went straight to your heart as he held you against him, carrying you from the wall. His arms braced under your ass as you leaned down to capture his mouth, lips moving in sync against each other.

You hadn’t noticed he’d carried you into his room until you both fell amongst the bed covers, his body covering yours.

You lay there, panting, looking up into those eyes you’d come to adore. The smile so rare you sometimes didn’t think he even could. You certainly didn’t think it would be so beautiful. Your hand came up to cup his face, chest warming as he nuzzled into the touch.

“Hey,” he breathed, kissing the heel of your palm.

“Hey,” you replied with a soft laugh.

“Bye,” you looked at him, your expression puzzled at the response.

“Wha– FUCK!” your hips arched as his fingers once again dipped between your thighs, sandwiching and rubbing your clit between his thumb and forefinger, his head trailing kisses down your front, pausing briefly to pay attention to your breasts before continuing south.

His fingers hooked over your waistband and Levi looked up at you for permission as he settled between your thighs. You smiled at his continued show of chivalry, nodded in confirmation before the cool air caressed your swollen pussy.

Levi must have forgotten how to breathe. That must be why he felt so lightheaded. Why his heart was beating so hard. Why his mind was reeling.

“God, look at you (Y/N), you’re perfect,” if you weren’t so goddamn aroused, you might have shed a tear at the compliment. You’d never had anyone say anything like that to you before. You’d never had anyone call you stunning, or pretty, or perfect. He made you feel so special.

And so fucking good.

Smirking slightly to himself, Levi turned to your inner thigh, biting gently at the supple, soft muscle and relishing how you squirmed eagerly beneath his touch. He was teasing you, and you were growing rather impatient.

But he couldn’t help it. He’d dreamt of this for so long he wanted to savour the moment. Wanted to remind himself that this wasn't a dream. He’d loved you for so long, and he couldn’t even fathom the elation now he knows that you love him back. The sweet scent of your dripping folds pulled him back to reality, like a siren beckoning him to a watery death, he let your essence pull him in, before the tip of his nose rested on the pearl of your clit.

His hands dragged up your thighs, gently kneading the sensitive flesh. He stayed like that for what felt like far too long, until everything happened at once. Throwing your legs over his shoulder, Levi’s tongue lapped a strong, solid line through your centre, sending your mind reeling.

“Aaaah…! Yes, Levi, Levi…!” Levi’s mind could have been a crime investigation blackboard. Making a mental note of every single reaction you were making. The buck of your hips when he kisses your folds. The arch of your back when he suckles on your clit. The hitch in your breath as his fingers came up to slowly tease your soaking entrance. Levi pulled back slightly, peering up at you and honestly, you almost lost control at the sight of him.

His mouth and chin dripping with your juices, pupils blown with pure, hungry desire. You parted your lips to comment on the delightful sight, but were cut off by the rogue moan he dragged from your throat, his fingers gently rubbing your clit, slowly travelling further south until you felt them circling your aching hole. Nerves gently bubbled through your stomach. You’d heard what the prostitutes and escorts said about a woman’s first time. You knew it was going to hurt, if the two of you went that far tonight. You knew it wasn’t going to be amazing the first time.

Levi also seemed to know.

“Hey, I’m not expecting anything after this, okay? I just want to pay you back for earlier, and make you feel… well, good. We can stop if you want,” you whined slightly at the loss of friction against your sensitive bud, but you couldn’t deny the reassurance calming your suddenly beating heart.

“Stop now and I’ll never give you head again,” you grinned, but he could see the sincerity and gratitude behind your mischievous eyes. You wanted this, and he was more than happy to provide.

“Order received,” he chuckled, before returning his mouth to your waiting pussy.

“Fuck, yes…! Yesyesyesyes HAA-AH, L-Levi…! Right there, fuck, fuck! Yes, right there,” Levi smirked as you whined his name, realising he’d never heard a sweeter sound.

Maybe the bubble of your laughter at a close second.

That same scandalous finger still rubbing patterns into your now throbbing clit, bringing you closer to your high. His other hand once again returning to your wanton hole, gently massaging your folds as his tongue darted into your entrance, dragging a long needy moan from your mouth.

Levi gently eased his finger into your waiting heat, his eyes rolling at how tight you were. He loosened a groan as he ground his now seeping length into the sheets below, the vibrations from his mouth almost enough to send you over the edge if you weren’t clenching at the strange intrusion.

As if sensing your slight discomfort, Levi latched onto the hood of your clit and sucked, relishing in the desperate cry of his name as the pad of his fingertip started rubbing against your walls.

The clench of discomfort soon turned to a flutter of pleasure as you adapted to having someone touch you so intimately. You started to understand why some women enjoy this, and more so when Levi twisted his wrist, hooking his fingers up and brushing against that spongy spot hidden deep within your folds almost by accident. He was worried he’d hurt you, your reaction was so sudden, but your loose string of breathless moans put him at ease.

“SHIT, there, stay… Nngh, AAH, stay there… that feels, yes…! That feels so good Levi,” you threw your head back against the pillow in utter ecstasy as he continued to massage that spot, easing anothing finger in to add to the now heightened pleasure. Whilst you felt both fingers inside of you, there was no discomfort as his tongue continued to swirl around your pearl.

This was his favourite part. Whilst having you kneeling between his thighs and shattering his control was indescribable, nothing could compare to the pleasure he felt whilst eating you out like a starved man. Fuck it felt good to make you feel good. Levi couldn’t stop his constant stream of whispered groans as his cock contiued to weep precum at the mere realisation he was wedged between your legs, feasting on your sex. He continued to grind against the mattress, feeling his own release start to tighten.

Quickening the pace of his working fingers, you couldn’t decipher the pattern Levi was lapping with his tongue, moving in what you thought was random zig-zags against your almost overstimulated clit.

You felt your thighs start to shake, moans escalating into high pitched, breathy pants as the coil in your stomach tightened to the point of snapping, quivering with tension.

“I’m gonna– fuuuuck…! Levi, Lev-Levi, I'm gonna cum… Yes, oh fuck yes, YES FUCK oh– LEVIIII!” with the continued ‘come here’ motion and mind numbing pace of his fingers against your g-spot and a final, long suck of your clit, you completely came undone with a desperate, lengthy scream of his name. Knuckles draining white with your iron grip on the sheets, your thighs locked around his head as your back arched completely off the bed.

It was all Levi needed to find his own release, hearing you chant his name like a prayer and feeling you convulse around his fingers and gush around his face was enough for him to spill all over the bedsheets, a small needy whine fluttering from his muffled mouth, devoured by your leaking cunt.

You two stayed like that for a moment as you both came down, Levi allowing you to catch your breath before being forced to tap on your thighs to release him, the clamp around his head easing.

“As happy as I would be suffocated between your legs, I don’t think I want to die quite yet,” Levi’s gravelly, gently teasing voice brought your back down from whatever elysium your mind had wandered off to, feeling his breath against your face. Your eyes peeled open, too fucked out to widen completely at the state of his face. Pearly white translucent essence lathered his lips and chin, bathing him in a glossy coat until he wiped it away with his other hand.

“What the fuck was that pattern? The one with your tongue?”

“Something I thought of on the spur of the moment. L-E-V-I, A-C-K-E-R–” your giddy giggle cut him off, hand pushing his face to the side playfully.

“Okay okay I get it, you’re utterly filthy and possessive.”

“Well, I had to leave my mark on you somehow.”

“As if the marks on my neck don’t exist.”

“Oh, they do. I’ll be spelling my name like that next time,” you gaped at his cocky smirk, unable to believe this was the same man you’d spent years living with.

As if inspecting your release on the tips of his fingers, he went to suck them clean in his mouth, but you were suddenly much faster. Grabbing his wrist, you brought his hand to your face, engulfing his fingers and swirling your tongue around the soft pads.

Levi’s eyes widened, a brow raised in incredulous disbelief.

“You brat, that was mine,” he huffed against your neck, looking at his hand with a pout as you took his fingers out your mouth with a small suck.

“Hmm, I don’t taste too bad,” you mused with a smirk, hoping to get some sort of rise out of him.

What you weren’t expecting was for him to roll to the side, pulling you into his chest so you had to angle your head up to peer into his now soft, grey eyes.

“You taste divine, firefly,” your heart skipped a beat at the nickname he’d only called you twice before.

“Why do you call me that? Don’t get me wrong, I love it but– why?” you murmured, snuggling into his warmth as much as you could whilst still being able to look into his loving gaze.

Levi stayed quiet for a moment, almost as if he were contemplating something, before gently tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“Because you’re a light, (Y/N). I was in a shit place, and you were a light. From the day I met your scrawny ass. You shone like some weird, feisty little beacon. You’re my firefly in the dark,” Levi was never good with words. Shit, he didn’t know how many times he’d rehearsed that little explanation, ready for the day when you would inevitably ask, and even then he still got it wrong. There was so much more he wanted to say. How you guided him forward. How you bathed him in your glow. You were so much more than his beacon.

You were his whole heart and soul.

You had been for a while.

Tears lined your eyes. You certainly weren’t expecting that. You weren’t expecting something so tender, even after your lovemaking. You weren’t expecting to see the raw, unwavering devotion in his eyes as he spoke such soft, soulmending words. His arms tightened around your waist as you nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his fresh, sweat musked scent.

You were both tired, content from you finding your highs in each other. Administrating pleasure for one another.

You were both happy with how far things had gone.

Then why were you both still awake?

Levi felt you lashes flutter intermittently against his collarbones, his only indication that you joined him in consciousness.

Neither of you said anything. You didn’t have to. Raising your head from his neck, the unspoken want reflected in his own eyes. Your lips joined his, gently moulding against one another in a gentle, passionate kiss. Wordlessly, he rolled on top of you, caging you against the bed with his arms either side of your head as his mouth moved against yours.

“Do you want this?” Levi pulled back just far enough to murmur, his lips still ghosting your own. Your hands found his hair, gently massaging his scalp as you nodded, looking deeply into those stormy eyes, blue and silver swirling seamlessly within his irises.

“I want you, Levi. Always you,” you responded, leaning back up to close the miniscule gap between you. One of your hands travelled down his back, skirting round his hips to his half hard length. You giggled cheekily at his muffled groan when you took him in your hand again, slowly pumping as he continued to harden. You wanted this. More than anything, you wanted him to claim you, and you wanted to claim him. You belonged to each other.

Levi lined himself up with your folds, shivering as his tip grazed your wetness.

“Last chance to say no before I take your virginity,” there was nothing but sweet sincerity in his hushed voice, his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You masked your nervousness by raising a cocky brow, a lopsided smirk pulling at your lips.

“Right back at you, handsome,” you replied, but Levi could see right through you. Though your tone put him at ease slightly, he could still tell you were anticipating what was to come.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. I’d never deliberately hurt you, (Y/N),” Levi lowered himself to recapture your lips, hoping to take some of your mind off the pain as he began to ease himself into your slick folds. You were thankful he’d stretched you somewhat with his fingers, but it wasn’t quite enough to quell the pained hiss you elicited as he slowly filled you. He would pause his movements at every sharp inhale, patiently waiting for you to accommodate his girth. It actually helped him as well, the overwhelming pleasure of your walls tightening around his cock almost enough to send him over the edge for the third time. He felt guilty for enjoying it, knowing you were in a lot of discomfort.

“I’ve got you firefly. I’ve got you. You’re doing so well, we’re almost there, I promise, take as long as you need, I’ve got you,” he cooed reassuring encouragement in your ear, letting you know there was no pressure on you. You relaxed a little, feeling the pain ease a tad as you did.

Levi felt your muscles loosen a fraction, and relief washed over him at the mere thought of you feeling a little more comfortable. Still, he refused to move until he’d heard you give him the go-ahead. You were dictating this, and he was once again more than happy to go at your own pace.

“Okay… okay. You okay?” you opened an eye to look up at his strained expression, slightly concerned he wasn’t enjoying it. You knew it would get better for you, but there was no point in continuing if he wasn’t feeling good either. But that thought was quickly extinguished when he nodded slightly erratically.

“Yeah, more than okay. I should be asking you that,” your small, huffed amusement was music to his ears.

“Go on then,” you smiled mischievously, almost forgetting about the tearing pain between your thighs. Your calmed, comfortable demeanor soothed his guilt ridden heart as he smiled fondly.

“You okay?” he gave you an eskimo kiss, gently nuzzling his nose against yours.

“More than okay,” you replied, copying his own response with an earnest grin. “You can keep going, by the way. Sorry, I should have said that sooner,” you smiled, looking away a little sheepishly. He hated how you thought that way. Hated how, even now, you weren’t thinking about yourself. He swept away your expression with a quick peck to your lips.

“No, you shouldn’t have. I want to move with you. This is all about you, don’t worry about me,” you could have cried at his words, feeling his lips against your neck. “You feel amazing,” he whispered, grasping the sheets as he continued to fill you to the hilt. You hissed again, but the pain was lessening to a dull throb now, his entire length sitting snug within your walls.

You both paused again, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being so full.

“Everything alright?” you could have chuckled at the obvious restraint in his voice, heart warming knowing he was doing everything he could to make you feel as comfortable as possible. You loved how he continued to need reassurance.

“Yeah, all good. You can move now baby,” Levi looked back at you, wide eyed and stunned.

“Are you sure? You don’t need more time? I can wait, I don’t want you to think–” he couldn’t finish his sentence before your lips crashed against his, your hips bucking as you feasted on his mouth. His eyes rolled at the friction and you swallowed the groan escaping his lips as he began to pull out, only to slowly thrust back in, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your gummy walls gripping and massaging his length.

“Fuck… god you feel so good,” he moaned, having to remove his mouth from yours in favour of breathing. You gasped quietly, raising your legs to wrap around his waist, encouraging his hips to roll deeper. The pain had been completely replaced by a unique pleasure you’d never felt before.

“Yes… Levi, shit, yes…!” Your breathy moans fueled his gentle thrusts, keeping the pace steady and rhythmic. It worked perfectly for both of you, especially when the tip of his cock grazed the same spot you were sure his fingers were grinding against earlier.

“There! L-Levi, right there, yes oh fuck!” you whined, rolling your hips to meet his. Levi stilled, allowing you to grind yourself on his length, your mouth falling open as he continued to rub against your g-spot, the spongy texture enveloping his leaking tip.

“(Y/N), a-aah,” Levi gave up on forming words for the second time that night, loosening a lengthy, gravelly groan into your ear. You whimpered as he started to thrust again, picking up the tempo as the two of you lost yourselves in the pleasure of each other’s bodies.

He kept the angle the same, heatedly relishing in the high pitched moans with each well placed thrust.

“M-more, Le-vi, Levi, ‘need more,” your heels dug into the small of his back as if he would pull away. Snaking his hand between you, your hips bucked wildly as he started to circle your clit with his first two fingers.

“Yes, yes, FUCK, yes, shit (Y/N),” he couldn’t stop the stream of breathy grunts as your walls contracted around him, sucking him deeper than he ever imagined. “Does it– nngh– does it feel g-good?” he asked, as if you could find a voice with which to reply. Miraculously, you managed to nod frantically, uttering a guttural “yes” as his thrusts swiftened to something a little rougher, encouraged by your continued string of curses, his hips now pounding into you. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the continued squelching of his cock entering you repeatedly only heightened the sensation as you walls began to clench, you high fast approaching with the repeated rubbing of your clit and g-spot. Your nails began to claw against his back, scratching lines of fire against his skin.

“Levi... LEVI! Fuck… fuck... I’m gon-na cum. D-don’t stop, feelssogood…!”

“Yeah? C-cum then. Cu– fuck, cum for me,”

“A-ah, Levi, yes… YES…! LEVIIII…!” Levi’s breath hitched as you held him in a vice grip, his eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy as you came around his dick, back bowed in an arch, eyes closed as your orgasm washed over you in waves Your thighs shuddered and tightened around his hips as he fucked you through you high, fingers still blurring against your pearled bud until overstimulation shattered through your nerves, muscles twitching and clamping as he continued to find his own high.

“Shit…! Shit, oh fuck… Fuck, i’m so close, (Y/N) I’m s-so– so close, ha-ah…! Nngh, i’m gonna– oh fuck, yes… yes fuck…! Imgonnacum, (Y/N)... aa-aah, fuck (Y/N)!” Levi only just managed to pull out before he came across your abs, groaning desperately as his hips bucked into your lower stomach. You reached down through your own fucked out haze to grasp his cock, milking him through his orgasm much like you did early on in the night. Thumb grazing circles across his overly sensitive tip.

“Fuck, (Y/N) stop, ‘s too much… p-please,” you grinned against his neck as he collapsed on top of you, his face turning to the side as he fell between your shoulder and the pillow, panting against your skin.

You both refused to move, limbs too heavy to even think about cleaning up right now.

“Fuck… that was good,” you breathed, arms coming to drape across his marked back. It was only then you realised how painful it looked. “Levi! Oh my god I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” you asked, gently caressing the now raised lines across the muscles on his shoulders and back, hoping to soothe what you had done. He huffed a chuckle at the concern in your tone. If only you knew how much he’d loved feeling you draw white hot lines into his skin.

“Don’t be. I’m fine, I kinda liked it,” he confessed, tilting his head up to look into your shimmering, concerned eyes. (E/C) irises that quickly swirled with cheeky intent. You poked his forehead fondly, raising a brow.

“You little masochist,” your teasing tone made him lift his heavy body off yours, holding his weight a little shakily on his elbows as he leaned down to kiss you gently, his tongue brushing effortlessly against yours.

“Mmm, it was rather good wasn’t it?” he smirked against your lips as you scoffed.

“Rather? Says the man who the neighbours will be complaining about for the next god-knows-how-long. I think even those shit eating nobles above ground heard you,” you teased, smoothing over his eyebrow, his eyes rolling dramatically as he bunched up the sheet to gently wipe his seed from your abdomen.

“Okay fine, it was really good. But you know, you weren’t exactly silent yourself, right?” you’d never get bored of this banter between you. Never get tired of the amused spark in his dark irises, the slight quirked pull of his lips.

“Shut up,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against your neck when you couldn’t keep up the feigned annoyance on your face. He chuckled into the dip between your neck and shoulder before the two of you fell silent, content to bask in each other’s comforting warmth.

“You need to go pee,” and maybe it was his flat delivery breaking the serene silence, but that one sentence broke you. You exploded into fits of laughter, head thrown back in hilarity. Levi looked up in bewilderment, puzzled by your sudden reaction. But you had a certain contagious spark to your laughter, and he found himself joining you in your amusement. You couldn’t tell whether it was the release of all the sexual tension between you, or whether it was the elating realisation that you belonged to each other. Whether it was the relief of finally physically admitting your mutual attraction, or something completely different, but you found yourself unable to stop the bubbles of happiness from escaping your chest, even when you’d calmed down a little.

Levi too managed to control his hiccups of mirth, at least enough to ask you a one word question.

“What?”

You adored the way he looked at you and you were sure only one other person had ever seen him look like that before.

“Nothing, you’ve always got my wellbeing at the front of that beautiful mind of yours, haven’t you?” your hands carded through his hair as he rolled his eyes again. You could tell he was trying to school his smile back to neutral, but found himself unable when faced with your grinning visage.

“Shut up and go pee brat, I’ll clean up here,” Levi reluctantly rolled off you, pulling you up with him because he knew you wouldn’t have moved otherwise. You were shaky on your legs and he held your arms until you’d regained your strength before sending you off with a quick peck on your lips, something you tried to deepen but he caught on to your antics disappointingly quickly. “Go, you insatiable minx,” you laughed again as he gently pushed you, not before glancing at your gorgeous physique.

“Oi, stop checking me out,” you grinned over your shoulder as you left the room to do as he said.

It didn’t take him very long to strip the bed and change the sheets, finding some spare cloth and cases to drape over the bare mattress and pillows, bundling up the dirty bed clothes and dumping them in a small basket to be washed All before you wandered back in. Levi could see how tired you looked as you made a beeline for him, not quite with the same savvy confidence as you had five minutes ago, the night’s activities finally catching up with you. He couldn’t say he felt any different.

“C’mere beautiful,” he sighed as you collapsed into his chest. Levi tightened his arms around your body, pulling you to the bed with him.

Lying down on the fresh sheets, he tucked you closer into his chest, a smile pulling at his lips as you wrapped your tired arms around him.

As if he would ever leave you.

Tilting his head down, he pressed a delicate kiss to your hair, smiling against the faint scent of his soap you usually used.

“I love you, Levi,” Levi’s breath hitched at the three words he’d longed to hear you say. Never in his entire Underground existence did he think he could ever be this happy. The thought provoked a rogue tear to slide down his cheek.

When he’d regained some of his composure, realising he hadn’t moved or even breathed for a little too long, his legs shifted to tangle with yours, simply wanting to feel you against him.

“I love you too, firefly,” he felt your soft, relieved smile against his neck as you both settled into each other, drifting off into one of the longest sleep either of you had managed in a very, very long time. At some point he’d rolled the two of you over, facing his back to the door, caging you in and instinctively protecting you against the horrors that lay outside those four walls.

Neither of you woke when Isobel and Farlan returned to the house in complete disarray.

Isobel immediately suspected what had happened judging by the plethora of discarded clothing and bundled white sheets in the wash basket.

“Oh my god, Farlan look! Is bro okay? Wait, are they both okay?! Look at (Y/N)’s neck!” Isobel gawked in slightly scared awe at her brother and his childhood friend. Well, lover now, they supposed, if the scratches on his back and the hickeys on your neck were anything to go by.

“How long do you think they’ve been knocked out like this?” the taller, sandy haired man asked, raising a brow to the girl as they leant on the doorframe, both looking at your sleeping, barely covered forms.

“Honestly? Beats me. Took them long enough though. If they didn’t fuck soon I would have thrown myself out the window. You could smell the sexual tension between those two,”

“That’s gross, Issy,” Isobel giggled at Farlan’s disapproving look, the dirty blonde clipping the back of her head as he leaned forward to shut the door, giving the two of you privacy.

Levi had been semi-coherent. Too tired and comfortable to throw either of them one of his glares, the sleeping bundle in his arms had softened him to the point of gooeyness. He smiled contently against your head.

Honestly, he couldn’t blame Isobel.

If you two hadn’t done something soon…

He would have thrown himself out the window alongside her.

꧁ꨄ꧂

“So, you did know her?” Levi tried to trace the steps he took that led up to this exact situation. He was always about no regrets, but shit, if he wasn’t starting to have a few. Sitting opposite his Commander, an ankle crossed over his knee, arms folded defensively, occasionally leaning forwards to take sips from his small cup of tea he’d managed to bring with him before being almost dragged into the blonde’s office.

He rolled his eyes, setting down his teacup once again, his arms returning to their positions against his chest.

“No. I already told you,” he’d insisted on keeping up this charade of ignorance, not knowing what it would do to either of you if anyone found out. Although he knew it was useless lying to him, Erwin would inevitably find out sooner or later.

The man across his face rubbed his palm against the side of his face in slight frustration, eyes closing as he took a calming breath. Levi almost felt sorry for him. He knew Erwin was under a lot of constant stress, and he knew he was contributing to that stress right now. If it was about anyone else, he would have caved in sooner. But this was you, and he would go to the ends of the earth to protect you.

“Levi… this is serious. If you know her, I need to know. It could help us protect her–”

“Protect her? Against what? I thought the MPs were done with her now,” Levi’s façade slipped slightly as worry invaded his normally rational mind. Erwin raised a thick eyebrow, clearly noting Levi’s change of tone.

“Just because they’re done with her doesn’t mean they won’t fight to get their way. She killed a lot of their soldiers, Levi. It’s only natural they would want to harm her, and we can only offer so much protection to the criminals we seem to be accumulating,” Erwin explained cautiously, as if realising Levi was a ticking time bomb, and any wrong move could set him off. But the shorter man decided against exploding at that comment, too fixated on the idea you could be harmed further.

“But you struck a deal with Niles, right? Aren’t you commanders supposed to honour deals like that?” the ravenette asked with no small degree of irritation in his tone. Erwin seemed to be slowly understanding what was going on. It was becoming more obvious that Humanity’s Strongest Soldier was perhaps more than familiar with The Raven.

“Levi, please. Who was she to you? An associate? Business partner? A friend? A lover?” Levi’s jaw flickered at the last suggestion, telling the Commander all he needed to know. “Really?” there was no judgement in his voice, only genuine, surprised curiosity. He didn’t think Levi even had it in him to love another, especially since he’s lost so many.

“Tch, so what?” might as well admit to it now he’d already guessed. Levi’s heart clenched with guilt, already trying to formulate some sort of plan. He didn’t know why there would be any repercussions to the two of you having a relationship years ago, but he didn’t doubt there would be. There always seemed to be.

“No, nothing, I’m just… surprised if I’m honest. You’ve never mentioned her before,” Erwin seemed genuinely, innocently interested, rather than that usual tone he took when he was fishing for information. Levi relaxed a tad, reaching for his teacup and taking a good, long sip, providing himself time to think.

“It was a very long time ago now… We haven’t seen each other in a decade or so,” he admitted quietly over the rim of his teacup, attempting to hide his face behind his hand.

“Do you still love her?” Levi almost choked on his tea at the sudden, incredibly personal question. The obvious answer was yes. Yes, he still loved you. He never stopped loving you. He only realised how much he really did still love you when he saw you again.

“No,” his response wasn’t as strong as he wanted it to be, and true to his perceptive nature, Erwin noted his hesitancy.

“I think we’re well past lying now, don’t you think?” Erwin smiled gently, now knowing why this was always such a sensitive subject for Levi. Why he stormed into his office the other day demanding to talk to him. Why he was so beside himself about your treatment.

That was his past lover.

Levi sighed, placing the teacup back on the desk before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“It’s more complicated than that,”

“It’s a yes or no question Levi,”

“What’s it to you, Eyebrows? Pretty sure my answer doesn’t dictate whether she’s safe or not just because The Raven is an ex to one of your captains,” the venom in his voice was tamed by his obvious fatigue. Erwin could only imagine how much of a toll this had taken on the ravenette.

“No. It doesn’t. But I don’t want you to think you can’t come to your friends about something like this, Levi. She’s–” Erwin cut himself off, internally debating the best way to go about this. “She’s somebody important to you. Incredibly important, if your little display the other demonstrated anything,” Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue at the remark.

“I just don’t want her to get hurt. More than she already has,” it was strange seeing Levi, a man Erwin had known to be incredibly stoic and in control seem so vulnerable. It was strange to think Levi had any weaknesses. But the blonde supposed every man had a weakness. Even him.

However if Levi didn’t want her to get hurt, then he should have spoken up before Erwin struck a deal with the MPs to let her join the Scouts.

“Levi… She's a Scout now. It’s highly likely she’s going to get hurt on expeditions,”

“I KNOW THAT,” Erwin raised his brows at the sudden, raised tone, not expecting something quite that desperate to come from Levi, the smaller man now refusing to make eye-contact. “I know that,” he repeated quietly. It was obvious he was in a difficult situation.

“Then I'll ask you again. Do you still love her?” Erwin’s tone was ever patient, something Levi appreciated as he sat in silence before answering, once again unable to meet Erwin’s piercing gaze.

“Yes. Yes I do. I didn’t stop. I never stopped loving her,” Erwin’s expression softened at Levi’s words, leaning his chin against his intertwined fingers, his elbows resting on the desk.

“Does she know that?”

“Fuck sakes Erwin, are you seriously giving me dating advice?” Levi raised what could have been an amused brow, if only the seriousness of the conversation didn’t convert it into something of irritation. He couldn’t deny this conversation had gone better than he could have expected. He didn’t expect his Commander to be so supportive of a relationship between his Strongest Soldier and The Raven. But, he supposed, as much as he hated to admit it, Erwin was one of his closest friends. And his hearty chuckle only exaggerated that fact.

Annoyingly.

“No. No I’m not. I’m not one to give such advice,” another silence settled between the two men, before Erwin spoke up again. “What would you like to do about this?” he asked, willing to let Levi have some say in how his ex lover was treated within the Scouts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how would you like to oversee her training? From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t respond well to… authority,” god, talking about this it was akin walking on a sleeping titan, not knowing what would suddenly jolt it awake enough to lunge and bite. This was more Hange’s field than anything, knowing Levi had a strange soft spot for the scientist. Not that he would ever admit it.

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s… well… Yes, she’s difficult. And yes, she doesn’t like authority. And yes, she’s perfectly capable of kicking the shit out of any of us whilst eating a salad as she did it but she’s not impossible. You just have to know how to… work her,”

“Sounds like you do,”

“Watch it.”

“Apologies. That was inappropriate,” Levi could tell there was nothing apologetic about Erwin’s tone. And he couldn’t deny that it was rather funny, conveying his thoughts with a less spiteful eye roll.

Eyebrows’ eyebrows furrowed in thought, wondering who should survey your training, and who’s squad you should join after.

“I can have Miche take her through ODM maintenance, he should–”

“No point. She knows how those things work better than you or I. She was the one who sold to us,”

“Without your knowledge?” Levi stayed awkwardly quiet for a moment.

“She was wearing a mask…”

“Seriously?”

“It’s dark down there, okay? We couldn’t fucking see her face,” Levi spat, only adding to Erwin’s humerous disbelief. “Anyway, she doesn’t need to be taught that shit. She already knows it. She just needs to be taught how to use it. But she’s a fast learner. If she doesn’t surpass Miche’s kill count in her first two weeks I'll be extremely surprised,” Erwin smiled subtly as Levi kept singing your praises, seemingly unable to stop himself from aggressively gushing about how fantastic you were.

“You seem confident,”

“I am.”

“Why?” The question caught him off guard. Why? Because it was you. He was always confident when it came to you. He could always trust you with anything because he knew you.

Or… at least…

He did.

“Look, I know you’re usually the one asking me to trust you, but just this once, trust me,” Erwin had already made the decision to trust Levi on this one. He seemed to know you better than anyone, even if he had just avoided the question.

“I was going to anyway, but alright. Miche for ODM, Hange for titan theory–”

“Terrible idea, but continue,”

“And she can join the rest of the soldiers for hand to hand. Does that suit you?” Levi couldn’t quite understand why Erwin was being so lenient with this.

“I don’t give you orders. If that’s how it is, that’s how it’ll be,” the raven haired man folded his arms once again, leaning back in his chair.

“Levi, I’m trying to be accommodating about this,” Erwin huffed, growing ever more tired with the Captain’s attitude.

“Why? Just treat her like any other cadet,”

“Honestly? Because I don’t want you to be in a constant foul mood if something goes wrong with her training,” Levi scoffed, averting his eyes from Erwin.

“Fine. Yes, that suits me. Whether it’ll suit her or not… that’s a different question altogether,” Levi’s subtle, fond smile didn’t escape Erwin’s ever-searching gaze, the man picking up on all of Levi’s tells.

“Very well. She can join Captain Francis’ squad as a temporary fix until we see where she would fit in–”

“That man’s a waste of air and you know it,” Levi really was behaving like a petulant child, huffing and folding his arms with every idea he disagreed with.

“Whilst yes, I agree with you, he’s also another Captain. You should probably treat him like one,”

“I don’t see him here with us, do you?”

“Levi…” Erwin warned lowly. Though he did sometimes enjoy the smaller man’s sarcastic quips, now wasn’t the time for such things. Before Levi could respond to the warning however, Erwin continued swiftly. “So, you’ll oversee her training?”

“Didn’t I just say that was a bad idea?”

“I find myself disagreeing with you.”

“Tch, fine. ``We done here?” he asked, tapping his foot impatiently as if he’d been waiting to ask that question throughout their entire meeting. Erwin sighed, trying so hard not to roll his own eyes before nodding and waving a hand. But before Levi could even open the door, he was stopped.

“Levi… What's her name?” Erwin asked, peering at him as if he could see right through him. Levi’s expression softened, thinking back to when she asked him to refer to her with her name rather than her alias.

“(Y/N),” he spoke your name as if saying it any louder would shatter it, the delicacy in his tone so unlike the Levi Erwin had come to know. “But call her Raven until she tells you. Hate to say it, but you wouldn’t stand a chance if she decides you have a target on your back,” that alien fondness returned to Levi’s expression, as if he wasn’t talking about his ex lover possibly murdering his commander.

“I’ll take your word for it. Thank you Levi, for being honest with me. I know there’s more to say, but I'm sure you’d rather rest than talk to me about it,” the offer was there, Levi knew it was. He knew Erwin was offering to help sort through his thoughts with him, but he needed time to…

Adjust to this new normal.

So instead he hummed non-comitally and bid the Commander goodnight.

“Night Erwin, don’t strain yourself too hard thinking about this,” it was his way of saying he was grateful for Erwin’s support. Levi always had his own special way of saying things like this.

Erwin couldn’t respond before Levi was already closing the door behind him.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Warm shower. No, hot shower. Fuck it, scalding shower. Levi kept turning up the temperature, the showerhead gurgling with each twist. He usually found, when nothing else could calm his nerves or soothe his head, a scalding shower and a hot tea worked the trick. But every part of him was alight tonight. His body, his mind.

His heart and soul.

His entire being crackled with some sort of energy he hadn’t felt in a while. He recognised it. Of course he did. It was the same energy he’d feel whenever you’d return home from your strange trips away, which he now knew was Viper teaching you how to survive. Was that how you knew how to stitch his wound that night? Was that how you knew how to effectively apply a bandage, how to suture and sew? That night when he’d stumbled through the door to find the house empty. When he’d sat at the table, silently begging you to come back just so he could see you again. Just so he would stop worrying.

That night when he’d first kissed you.

There were a lot of firsts that night, he remembered fondly. The first kiss, the first touch. The first time he’d heard you moan his name. The first time he moaned yours.

The first time he’d felt such utter pleasure, when your tongue swirled around his tip and your lips lapped at his vein. When your throat massaged his length and he spilled into your mouth.

The first time he’d tasted you, delicately kissing your swollen folds and listening to you unravel above him. Your breathy whines playing on repeat in his head.

The first time you two were joined, closer than you’d ever been before.

Gradually, the shower became far, far too hot. Looking down, Levi could both see and feel the result of his little nostalgia trip. The small whimper of his name in the cell had unlocked a torrent of repressed urges that now sprang to light.

In more ways than one.

It was wrong. It was so, so wrong. You were a mere husk of who you were. You were damaged, fractured. Spiderwebbed cracks lined your mind, threatening to shatter and yet, no matter how far down he turned the shower temperature, no matter how much cold water splashed against his toned back, images of your ecstasy creased face still flashed in his mind, his length only hardening further the longer he left it.

“Damnit…” he muttered with a heavy sigh, before wrapping his hand around his cock and slowly fucking into his fist. His hips bucked involuntarily, having not done this in quite a while now. Levi ran his thumb over that prominent vein, remembering how your hot mouth would suckle kisses along the underside. A low moan escaped his throat, lost down the drain along with the filthy cold water.

He lathered his precum over his sensitive tip, hissing at the friction as he began to pump faster, boney knuckles gripping tighter as he neared his high. His hand didn’t feel like his own. There were no rough callouses on his palms, but rather they were softer. Daintier. Smaller. He couldn’t stop his imagination running wild as he thought of you jerking him off, that playful, fox-like smile pulling at your lips whenever his back arched or his hips bucked.

“Fuck…” he groaned, fucking into his fist with renewed vigor, his balls tightening as he felt his release wash through his body, mouth falling open. Throwing his head back, Levi thrusted his hips into his grip as ropes of white seed spilled from his tip, seeping through his fingers.

He braced his arm against the white tiled wall, watching the water wash away his ivory sins as his cock softened in his hand. Guilt punctured his afterglow, self hatred a constant accomplice as he turned the temperature back up to boiling, hissing as the lava scalded his back, staining his skin an angry red. He wouldn’t have tea after this. He wouldn’t carefully dry himself off, or sit at his desk and stave away sleep.

He would collapse amongst the unused duvet and pillows of his bed, and hope his nightmares carry him to retribution.

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