#more love put into it than a book that looks like its never been touched
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The breaking point
Part 2 of Beyond the Limit (can also be read as a standalone)
Spencer realizes that being dominant doesn’t always require him to be rough, especially when he has complete control over your body.
warnings: (18+, MDNI) soft dom spence because there’s a lot of praising in this one, reader in lingerie, orgasm control or edging, overstimulation, reader gets cockdrunk (idk how to explain it better), a little cockwarming at the end
Words: 4,3k
a/n: this has been in my drafts for a while and i finally finished it, i don’t usually do a part two for my oneshots but…i’m actually tempted to do more
You were a tease—a goddamn tease. Spencer knew he needed to work on his self-control, but it was hard to keep his composure when you had the ability to stir desire within him. It was perplexing, given that there was a time when thoughts of anything remotely sexual never even crossed his mind.
For the majority of his life, intimacy had been a foreign concept. While he occasionally felt a pang of jealousy witnessing everyone around him find love, he managed just fine without it. He suspected it was partly a defense mechanism, channeling his focus toward other aspects of his life—such as his mother's health, for example—to avoid dwelling on what he lacked.
But then all his beliefs shattered when you came crashing into his life. Suddenly, everything he thought he knew about himself was thrown away. Your presence sparked a fire within him that he never knew existed and he found himself craving the intimacy he had once dismissed as unnecessary.
He wasn't even aware of how touch-starved he was until he met you, and now it was hard to maintain that last thread of self-control he possessed. It wasn't that he didn't want to give in, but rather, he feared the intensity of his own desires, afraid that he might enjoy it more than he anticipated.
Because did he have to be rough with you for him to be satisfied, now that he had once known how it felt like? But how could he indulge in such temptation when you looked so utterly beautiful right now, so delicate, so precious in his eyes?
How could he even fathom ruining your perfection with roughness?
"Spence?" You nervously asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Your confidence was starting to dissipate as his eyes slowly traveled down your body, taking in the lingerie you chose to surprise him. Although this was not the reaction you were hoping for. "Do you not... like it?"
Spencer's gaze lingered on you, his expression was unreadable for a moment before a warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"No, no, it's not that," he reassured you, putting down the book he had been reading on the bedside table before you walked into your shared bedroom. He reached his hand out, motioning you to come closer. "It's just... you caught me off guard, that's all."
You approached him cautiously and as you stepped closer, you noticed the tension in his shoulders easing, replaced by a soft warmth in his eyes. His hand found its place on your waist, drawing you closer and you instinctively fell on his lap, your knees dipping onto the bed on each side of his thighs.
Feeling his arousal right between your legs, you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips. "So you do like it," you murmured, a hint of satisfaction lacing your words.
"Like it? Sweetheart, that's an understatement," he replied. His calloused palms traveled along your sides as he took in the way the lace material hugged your curves.
The lilac-colored lingerie set on your body accentuated your figure perfectly. Both pieces were see-through, granting him a glimpse of your chest and lower region. The delicate edges of the top were adorned with more of the soft fabric, cascading over your stomach and back in a gentle, stunningly pretty way.
"You're so beautiful," Spencer whispered as he traced the intricate patterns of the fabric with his fingertips. "Absolutely breathtaking."
His touch sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into him, relishing the warmth and tenderness of his touch as one of his hands moved up your arm before resting behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.
His lips touched yours gently, sending a thrill coursing through your body. He nipped at your bottom lip, his touch both teasing and tender and as he sucked on it softly, a low moan escaped you. He then deepened the kiss, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, and you kissed him back eagerly, your lips moving in perfect sync with his.
When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, but he didn't stop giving you attention. His mouth made its way down to your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin and you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. He then sucked on the spot below your ear, his lips creating a deliciously pleasurable sensation that made you moan softly in response.
You could feel his smile against your skin as he continued to travel further down, his lips leaving a trail of heat along your neck and collarbone. At the same time, his fingers pulled down the strap of your lingerie top, the material gracefully falling down your body, revealing more of your skin.
"Beautiful," he whispered as if it was the first time he laid his eyes on you, even if the two of you lost count long ago. His name slipped from your lips the moment his wide palms were pressed to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and your nipples hardened beneath his touch.
Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, and your breathing quickened in response when his thumb traced over your sensitive peak, sending electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. Spencer watched the way your eyes widened with desire, his own filled with a hunger that mirrored yours. And when he leaned closer, wrapping his soft lips around it, you were instantly gone.
The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, eliciting the most sinful sound you weren't even aware of making. It was like music to his ears, fueling his desire to please you even more. He continued to suck on your skin, giving the same attention to each breasts, his movements growing more fervent with each passing moment.
When he felt your hips bucking against his, he let out a low, guttural groan of pleasure. He softly drew back your nipple, your supple skin following his pull before he released it with a soft pop. Your skin glistened from his saliva, and honestly, Spencer had never seen such a splendid sight before.
The way you were grinding against him over his cotton pants frantically sent a surge of desire coursing through his veins. He could feel the thin fabric of your sheer panties pressing between your cunt, and with each movement, he could see glimpses of soft, bare skin glistening under the light, driving him wild with longing.
A primal need surged within him, a need to devour you, to lose control and indulge in the raw intensity. He craved to run his rough hands along your body, to explore every inch of your skin and claim you as his own. But he couldn't—not when you were the one in control as you sought pleasure in the way your hips moved against his.
So instead, his hands found purchase on your hips, guiding you to move faster. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Keep going."
You obeyed, pressing your aching heat against his cock, rolling your hips rapidly as a whimper of his name escaped you. You felt yourself growing hot and needy, your arousal dripping through your panties to coat his flesh beneath you, soaking through fabrics.
"Look at how wet you are," he mused, his voice laced with desire as he observed your flushed state and the evidence of your arousal staining the fabric between you. "Does this feel good?"
Your only response was another desperate moan, your body consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of being with him. What started lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.
"I need to feel you," you breathed out quickly, and before he could register what was happening, your fingers were pulling down his pants frantically. Sensing your desperation, he was quick to push the fabric down as his cock sprung free.
You bit down on your bottom lip as you lift your hips above him, taking him by the base with one of your hands while the other pushed the material of your panties to the side. He groaned when you pressed the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. Spencer always made sure you were fully ready, either with his fingers or mouth—or even with your own fingers. But you were already wet enough, and you couldn't wait any longer to feel him inside you.
You nodded eagerly, the need for him overpowering any hesitation. "Please," you begged, your voice pleading and desperate. "I need you now."
Both of you watched in awe as his girth stretched your clenched walls, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelming your senses. It wasn't the first time this happened, but it felt like a new sensation each time, and you found yourself instinctively clenching around him, eager to feel him even deeper inside you.
"Fuck," you whimpered, allowing yourself a moment to adjust to his size. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as you squeezed yourself around him. With a slow, deliberate motion, you lifted your hips, feeling him ease out of you, only to lower yourself onto him again.
The sensation of him sliding back inside you made you gasp, a rush of pleasure washing over you as you took him deeper. His groan reverberated through your body, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. As his head fell back against the headboard, you couldn't help but whimper, the words tumbling from your lips without much thought.
"You fill me up so good," you confessed, your voice laced with desire as you rolled your hips against him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach clench underneath your fingertips with every upstroke of your hips. "Take this off, baby."
With a low growl of approval, Spencer complied, swiftly removing his shirt and tossing it aside. Without hesitation, your hands trailed over his chest, reveling in the sensation of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.
He watched you intently, captivated by the raw display of pleasure that painted your features. The way your face twisted in ecstasy, the way your mouth hung open in silent gasps, the way your breasts bounced with every movement—all of it drove him to the edge of his self-control.
As you quickened your pace, he felt his restraint slipping away, the urge to claim you completely becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Each time you clenched around him, it became harder for him to hold back. And as always, you could tell. You could feel the tension in his grip on your hips, the way his fingers dug into your flesh with a possessive urgency.
You slowed your hips, bringing your hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "You're doing it again."
His gaze met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and frustration. He knew exactly what you were referring to. "I... I can't help it. You drive me crazy."
"I know that," you responded, stilling for a moment as you kept him buried deep inside you. "I just need you to do something about it."
He slowly shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," you assured him, your voice filled with confidence as you leaned closer, bumping your nose against him seductively. "Come on, I know how much you want to be in control."
When he didn't respond, you pushed him even further, your lips tantalizingly close to his as you whispered your seductive taunt.
"I know you want more," you teased. "Don't you want to take control? Lie me on my back and fuck me until I can't think anymore? Until I beg you to stop while you use my body over and over again?"
"Don't tempt me," he choked out, his voice thick with longing and restraint.
But you weren't finished yet. "Yeah?" you challenged, your tone daring as you buried your hand in his disheveled, sweaty hair. "Then I dare you to."
You tugged on his roots.
"Fuck me, Spencer." You nipped on his bottom lip. "Fuck me real good."
His breath caught in his throat at your bold words, his heart pounding rapidly. With a shaky exhale, he met your gaze, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than ever before.
And then, in a sudden surge of boldness, he surprised you, flipping you onto your back as you let out an amused squeal. But your laughter was quickly drowned out by the heat of his lips crashing down on yours.
He kissed you feverishly, with a messy and desperate hunger that left you breathless. He clung onto you as if you were the very air he needed to survive. He was devouring you as if you were the most delicious meal he had ever encountered, and he savored every moment, every sensation, swallowing your desperate moans.
And then he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss but any hint of disappointment vanished as you watched him shed his last piece of clothing. Then with deliberate slowness, he reached for your panties, his eyes locked on yours as he dragged them up your leg, savoring the sight of the damp fabric clinging to your skin.
When he finally discarded it on the floor, he wasted no time in grabbing one of your legs. With deliberate tenderness, he began trailing soft kisses along the inner part of your thigh, each gentle press of his lips sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your breath quickened as you watched him, your heart pounding in your chest.
"I'm not going to be rough," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes never leaving yours as he planted soft kisses right at the edge of your drenching heat, teasingly close to where you craved him most. He then crawled over your body, settling himself between your legs, his gaze locked on yours.
"But I am going to use you," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "You'll let me do that, won't you?"
As he hovered above you, his weight supported by his arms, you watched a strand of his outgrown hair fall over his eyes. With a gentle touch, you reached out and tucked it behind his ear, a soft smile playing on your lips as you nodded in response.
"Say it," he urged. "Tell me you're mine to use."
You met his gaze, your own eyes dark with longing and anticipation. "I'm yours," you whispered, and when you felt his tip pressing into your entrance once again, you gasped. "I-I’m yours to use."
In one swift motion, he filled you again with a hard thrust that had you arching your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you. "S-Spence..."
"Good girl," he praised, his words sending shivers down your spine as he kissed your cheek. His hips began to roll into you, setting a rhythm that drove you wild. "My good, pretty girl."
You whined in response, the sound music to his ears as he continued to thrust into you at a steady rhythm. He relished the way you responded to him, the way you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to use the way you were satisfied, to use the way you wanted him, to take you to the brink of ecstasy.
He wanted to use you in every way possible, to make you his in every sense of the word.
Spencer never considered himself a possessive person, but when it came to you, he wanted to be the one you surrendered to completely. And in this moment, he had never felt more in control. It was intoxicating, the power he held over you, the way you willingly gave yourself to him.
That was why when he felt you clenching around him, knowing you were so close to your peak, he stopped. He wanted to draw out this moment, to savor every sensation, every sound you made, every breath that escaped your lips. He wanted to draw out your pleasure until you were begging for release, until you were completely and utterly his.
"Why—" you gasped. "Why did you stop?"
He smiled down at you. "Because I want to make you feel good, Angel," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And I want to take my time doing it."
Your head fell back, and you couldn't help but bite your lip to suppress a moan. His use of the term Angel always had a way of melting your resolve, and you knew he was fully aware of the effect it had on you.
"Be patient," he chided before burying his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin gently. Then, he resumed moving his hips, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. It felt incredible, but you couldn't shake the desire for him to fuck you harder.
"More," you cried out, feeling as if you were in a deep haze.
"Yeah? Spread your legs wider then."
You whimpered at his simple command, your shuddering legs gradually spreading a few inches wider. It was becoming harder to breathe from the way he was pushing you into the mattress, but you welcomed the pleasure, craving more of him.
Your hands clawed at his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks from your nails as you desperately sought something to hold onto. The intense pleasure coiled tightly in your gut, making you feel as if you were gasping for air while your head swam with overwhelming sensations.
Your moans became more fragmented with every stroke of his hips, your thoughts clouded by the pulsating ache between your legs. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation building within you, traveling along your body. You were so close—and then it stopped.
It simply stopped right at the edge, and you couldn't feel anything but a raw need. It was incredibly frustrating as you caught him smiling down at you. You whined and bucked your hips, chasing the tight warmth you had so suddenly been denied.
Your breath came out in short, ragged gasps. "You're evil," you managed to say, your voice trembling with need. "I-I was so close..."
"Too soon," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed his lips to yours. "Just imagine how good it'll be once I finally let you come."
Spencer then slowly pulled away, his eyes tracing every detail of your trembling form—the way your mouth was slackened open, the way your hair sprawled across the sheets, the way your eyes fluttered closed yet struggled to remain open. He noticed them glistening with unshed tears, on the verge of falling, and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.
He knew he was pushing you to your limits, but he couldn't help himself. He was simply using you, just like you asked him to. But seeing the tears welling in your eyes, a wave of tenderness washed over him, and he leaned down to kiss them away, whispering soft words of comfort.
"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured. Although his words were spoken softly, there was nothing gentle about the way he continued to fuck you. "You can take it. Hold on a little bit longer, I promise."
A choked sob escaped you as he pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, murmuring soothing words. One of his hands reached between you, settling on the lower part of your stomach before pressing down gently as he felt the outline of cock moving inside you. He let out a groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.
"That’s it, Angel," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "You're taking me so well."
You whimpered almost pathetically as everything started to blur. You were a sweaty mess, both of you were, his skin gliding along yours effortlessly as he continued to thrust into you. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, so sticky, so messy, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
The throbbing between your legs was starting to burn, but at the same time, it felt so good—the way he was stretching you, the way you could feel him moving in and out of you. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, it was all too much but also not enough.
"S-Spence..." you whined, your head spinning with pleasure, almost too delirious as drool seeped down the corner of your lips. "Pl-Please, I-I can't—"
A soft chuckle escaped him as he watched you struggle to form coherent words. "Alright, alright, I got you," he murmured reassuringly. "On three now. Can you be a good girl and come at the count of three?"
You nodded weakly. "Yes, yes," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths.
"That's my girl," he praised, his voice filled with satisfaction. "One..."
Your breath hitched as anticipation built within you. Obscene wet noises filled your ears as he continued to fuck you, and with each number, his thrusts grew more deliberate, more intense.
"Two..."
You whined and he swallowed your moans, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You couldn't form any coherent words. You couldn't even think. It was too fucking much and you were on the verge of your breaking point.
And then, on the final count, he drove into you with such force that it sent you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you.
"Three," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, a string of saliva connected your parted mouths.
You gasped, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure consumed you. Your senses overwhelmed, your vision blurred with white-hot intensity, and tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you teetered on the edge of overstimulation.
T-Too much—You can't. You fucking can't.
The sensation never seemed to end and you found yourself surrendering to it, your mind going blank. It was as if you were intoxicated by the heady sensation, your senses dulled and heightened all at once, drunk on his touch. Your body felt so wet, so sensitive, so overwhelmed by the sheer force of your climax.
And when you thought it couldn't get any more intense, he proved you wrong by rutting his hips even harder with so much force as he chased his own high. He tucked his head in your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he moaned into your ear. With a few final thrusts, he drove into you deeply, his body tensing as he released himself inside you.
You were tired, so overwhelmingly spent, and as you both came down from the high, you gasped and trembled, your body finally relaxing from the pent-up tension. Your eyes felt glassy and unfocused, blinking slowly as you registered his murmured praises against your neck and shoulder.
He gently pulled away, and you winced as you felt him still throbbing inside you. Slowly, he searched for your eyes, his gaze filled with tenderness, and sighed in relief when you looked up at him with a tired yet blissful smile on your lips.
He smiled softly, relieved by your response. "You're okay."
You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. "Hmm," you murmured, running your fingers along his damp hair. "I'm more than okay."
He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did so well," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I'm so proud of you."
You giggled. "Me? I never thought you could be tempted to do that so easily."
He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. "You have that effect on me," he confessed. "Besides, it's hard to resist you."
"I am pretty irresistible, aren't I?"
"Absolutely," he replied as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. He shifted his weight and started to pull out, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in place.
"No, no," you pleaded. "Stay inside me for a while."
He paused, looking down at you with a smile. "We need to clean up."
"And we will." You ran a hand over his shoulder. "Just... give me five minutes."
He sighed, his resolve melting under your pleading gaze. "Alright, five minutes," he agreed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "But then we really need to clean up."
You responded with a soft hum, snuggling closer to him as he shifted toward the empty space on the bed. With a gentle gesture, he pulled you on top of him, enveloping you in his arms as you sprawled across his body.
You let out a sigh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck with the rhythm of his heart beating against your own. And as you savored the sensation of him still pulsing inside you, you smiled peacefully—you have never felt so complete.
I'm tempted to turn this into a series of one-shots where he and Reader explore new kinks together... or like how they try to navigate their relationship. I'm really, really tempted.
#gifwriting#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Fanfiction
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Moonlight Kisses
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Angst, unrequited?feelings. Fluff.
Summary: You’ve fallen in love, but he wants someone else, and it’s you he’s asking for advice!
It was a cold December Friday night when you realised you were in love with Bucky Barnes.
Natasha had ushered you out of your solitude and over to her private apartment on the compound. Steve was already there, along with Sam, Joaquin, Yelana, a few from the medical team and a few mechanics.
The place was decorated for winter, with playful snowmen and fuzzy christmas trees stacked in the corners. Everyone got comfortable on the big couch and music played in the background whilst you snacked on festive foods and sipped seasonal alcoholic drinks.
Bucky had been telling a story, his face lit up and his big hands flying everywhere as he described his mom chasing him with a broom during his teenage years after a stray snowball missed its target and landed on her. Occasionally his eyes met yours and they sparkled with mischief, but you figured he was like that with everyone.
You’d been crushing on him since you arrived in January and he was first to greet you. He seemed fascinated by your job, research and data analyst, but it was ultimately boring to almost everyone but you.
You lunched together sometimes and you swapped books every few weeks. You even got him into podcasts and you were always swapping recommendations.
But tonight he looked happy, relaxed even, and when Natasha dropped her dainty feet into his lap you felt the world skip underneath you, you wanted to put your feet in his lap. You wanted his big hands dwarfing your feet.
He rubbed her toes without thinking, and she snuggled down as the mechanics started describing the prank they’d played on Tony this week, going so far as to rope Pepper in. Bucky was listening intently, laughing along with them but his hands never stopped moving. It was obvious they were intimate with each other from the tiny looks and touched they shared.
You couldn’t understand why your heart suddenly ached, and then it hit you like a train. You were jealous, more than jealous, the revelation of their relationship hurt.
“Wanna stay here tonight?” You heard Natasha murmur to Bucky during a lull in conversation. Yelana was changing the music and Joaquin was setting up tequila shots.
He smiled at her but shook his head. “Nah,” his voice was thick with tiredness.
“You finally made a move on that girl?” She teased wiggling in her spot.
Bucky’s cheeks tinged pink and you dropped your eyes when you realised you were staring. You didn’t want to be caught looking like some dumb kid. You studied your hands but your head was swimming with this sudden realisation.
It was foolish to think that Bucky with his wonderful abilities and handsome looks would be interested in you who spent most of your time at work or alone. Bucky had been to hell and back, he deserved someone gorgeous who could distract him from reality
“Think I’m gonna’ take her out, yeah,” he nodded. You snuck a glance at him in time to catch him looking from you to Natasha.
Oh god, he must have noticed you staring. How embarrassing!
Tears that had no right to form in your eyes were there anyway and you stood suddenly distracting Steve who was kneeling at the coffee table next to you. Sam took the opportunity to defeat him in their thumb war game much to Steve’s annoyance.
“I’m going to head back, I’m just really tired,” you said to the room, avoiding Bucky and trying to look above Natasha’s head. “Thank you for the invitation Natasha.”
There were a few comments asking you to stay but ultimately everyone wished you a good sleep. Your own room was a fifteen minute walk away in a shared block and you pulled your arms around yourself to fight the cold as you stepped outside. You wished you brought more than a hoodie to keep you warm.
You looked up into the sky and focused on the moon and sucked a deep breath of cold air deep into your lungs. It grounded you so you did it again.
“Hey Doll,” Bucky called startling you. You hadn’t noticed him leaving behind you but he was closer than you expected.
“Bucky, hi,” you frowned.
“Thought I’d walk you back,” he said falling into step with you. “And I wanted your advice.”
“Oh?”
“So there’s this girl I like. She’s not like the others, she’s not really - she’s different. And I really want to make a date special for her, you know?” He glanced as you, letting his arm bump yours as you walked.
“I do,” you sighed resigning yourself to your fate. You didn’t want to have this conversation but you didn’t want to not help him either. He was your friend after all and despite your feelings you would be there for him no matter what.
“So I’ve had a few first date ideas, but I’m thinking farmers market then making brunch together? I started this really great podcast and I was thinking we could listen together as we cook then talk about it while we eat? Then after we could go to a museum or something?” Bucky licked his lips and stopped turning to look at you.
You didn’t want him to share a podcast with her. That was your thing with him. You knew you were being unfair, childish even but right now you didn’t care. His deep blue eyes searched your face. He looked so vulnerable in that moment.
“That sounds lovely,” you said. And it did, you wished you were that girl, you wished Bucky wanted to go to all that trouble for you but instead you’d have to sit home alone tomorrow whilst he woo’d someone else. You hoped it would be a long time before you were forced to meet her.
“Yeah?” He asked excitedly. “I really just wanna’ hold her hand, at the market, in the museum, I just crave that feeling you know, like this,” Bucky reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, holding your joined hands up to inspect. “It’s been a long time since I held a girls hand like this.”
“I-I’m sure it has Buck,” you swallowed. His hand dwarfed yours and his heat easily crept onto your skin. His thumb caressed your knuckles and your breath hitched but Bucky didn’t seem to notice.
He resumed walking and you could do nothing but join him, he still had your hand in his. He described his outfit for his date and wondered if you had a cosy chunky sweater.
“I do, it’s so comfortable,” you said softly. You couldn’t hide the disappointment as you slowed in front of the doors. “It’s my favourite colour too.”
“Will you wear it tomorrow?” Bucky tilted his head to the side.
“Why does it matter what I wear?” You couldn’t help but giggle at his odd request. You couldn’t do it though, thinking of him with someone else whilst you wore what he asked you to.
“I want to know that you’re warm tomorrow. You know, on our date?” Bucky pressed his cool left hand on your cheek as he turned to face you. His kiss was soft, just a sweet brush of the lips and then he pulled away. “I’ll see you at nine thirty?”
“Uh huh,” you nodded dumbly. He kissed you again, and you caught the faint taste of whiskey on his lips. He was warm as he pressed into you and you let your hands slide up his chest to his shoulders.
“See you tomorrow baby girl,” he pressed one last kiss to your forehead then opened the building door for you.
You walked inside in a daze, waving goodbye and drifting up the stairs like you weighed nothing.
You couldn’t remember getting changed into your pj’s, all you knew was that you were snuggled under your duvet setting an alarm for your date with Bucky in the morning.
You smiled, and suddenly your legs kicked and you let out a little squeal. You were going out with Bucky Barnes and he kissed you three times.
You feel asleep to the memory of one hot hand and one cold hand cupping your cheeks as he kissed you in the moonlight.
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Marital Duties
Pairing: Chan x afab!reader
Word count: 9.4k
Genre: Established relationship, married
Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise
Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.
Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs
Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.
Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so.
The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger.
Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.
That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.
The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.
These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.
“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”
Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd grow up to be a beautiful woman.
“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”
“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”
“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”
Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.
“Let me call you back at 15.”
You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.
The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered.
“Hey baby.”
“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.
“She was out like a light.”
“I’m glad.”
“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”
You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.
“Y/n, Y/n?”
You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.
“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”
“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”
“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”
“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display.
“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”
A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest.
Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.
“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”
“Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”
Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then.
But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.
“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”
“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”
“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”
Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.
“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”
“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”
It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh.
***
The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.
A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:
[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.
*one attachment*
Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.
“Everything okay back there?”
“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”
“We are at the airport, miss?”
His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.
Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.
But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.
[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.
*one attachment*
Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.
**
It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.
The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.
Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision.
“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”
The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed.
“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”
“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”
The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything.
“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”
“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”
Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.
“You okay babe?”
You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”
“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”
“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”
He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child.
“I got your text message this morning.”
Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of.
“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”
He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth.
“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”
“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”
Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child.
It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.
When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.
“Babe, what has gotten into you?”
Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded.
“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”
A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more.
“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.”
“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?”
Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly.
The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.
Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.
“Chan.”
“Y/n.”
“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.
“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”
“And keep it that way.”
“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.
“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.
“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”
Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.
“You’re not happy to be home?”
“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.
A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:
Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!
I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents.
We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.
I'll see you when I’m looking at you.
Dad
“Chan!”
Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself.
“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”
Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble.
You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one.
“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”
“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.
“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”
“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”
“You weren’t?”
“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”
Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.
“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?”
“I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”
There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples.
“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers.
Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific.
In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice.
“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”
“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”
“What was that?”
He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.
“You taste so good.”
He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.
“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”
His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.
“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed.
“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”
Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”
“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”
It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal.
Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.
“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”
“You like that?”
“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”
“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”
God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.
“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.
“Yeah baby?”
“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.”
Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen.
“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”
“Really?”
His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”
“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”
“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”
Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge.
“Chan?”
“Y/n, you okay baby?”
“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”
“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”
“Yeah?”
“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”
“Mhm, all yours.”
Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge.
“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”
“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”
“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”
“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”
Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.
“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”
He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.
“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”
“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”
You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.
“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”
“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”
#bang chan#bang chan fic#bang chan smut#bang chan scenario#bang chan imagine#bang chan x reader#stray kids fic#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids imagine#stray kids scenario#stray kids x reader#ch4nb4ng
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Call It What You Want, Steve Harrington
Summary: Going to a party at your bully's house had to be your worst nightmare come true. But you know what they say; don't get over someone, get under them.
Warnings: SMUT! slow burn filth. I need a hot shower level. breeding kink if you squint. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) fem!reader :)
NOTE: some characters have been aged up, like chrissy, so that everyone is in senior year at the same time :)
Word Count: 5.9K
You loved a party. Couldn't get enough of the heat of a group of people, the roar of laughter overlapping with the excited chatter of friends reuniting. The inevitable crash of dropped glass making the whole crowd hush before resuming their nestled talk. You were, in every sense of the word, a party girl. But that wasn't always the case.
Before this year - your senior year at Hawkins High- you'd been riding the coat tails of your childhood best friend, Nancy Wheeler, all throughout your school life. You were the sad little puppy that followed her around, but Nance never minded. She was always happy to have you by her side, or just behind her. Everywhere she went, you were there a few seconds later. That was until she started hanging out with, and later dating your sworn enemy.
Steve Harrington.
The guy had tormented you since middle school, along with his minions Tommy and Carol. The two of you used to make fun of people like them, stuck up and out of touch, and then she became one of them. Just like that. You could tell she felt guilty, by the way she would send you a furrowed glance at lunch as if to say 'I'm sorry, I have to!', like she had no control over who she surrounded herself with. As if she had no choice but to curl up beside the guy that broke your elbow in seventh grade.
Like she couldn't help but fall into the arms of the guy that had made your life a living hell for more than six years.
You still occasionally spoke to Nancy. After all, you lived across from one another, and thus had to see each other at some points. She would sometimes invite you to study, but you had started to make excuses after you had seen Harrington climb the garage roof and into her window, not liking the thought of his impulsive tendency for a romantic rendezvous interrupting a study session whilst you were there. You didn't want to put Nacy through the grief.
Your 'Lost Lamb' persona left you the moment you started hanging out with someone you never thought you'd consider a friend in your wildest dreams, or nightmares, Chrissy Cunningham. Expecting her to be a total Queen Bee, she was nothing of the sort. She was warm and kind and sisterly, all the things you missed from your friendship with Nancy. She sat with you at lunch, went to the movies with you, and eventually secured you a seat at the table with the rest of the cheerleaders, their boyfriends and the rest of their gang. They welcomed you with unexpected sincerity, and that was that.
You started going to house parties on Saturdays, diners on Wednesday nights with the girls, study sessions with some of the basketball team that couldn't quite pass a class or two. People waved at you in the halls, remembering your name for once. You and Chrissy would have sleep overs, and you felt the hole in your heart that Nancy left slowly start to heal. More or less.
But then you got that stupid invite.
"Gotcha!" Chrissy closed your locker door, scaring you senseless.
"Jesus, Chris!" you stacked your books in your arms. She was smiling wide, as always, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What?" you said, a raised brow and half a smirk making its way across your lips.
"Before you say anything, just let me talk," she made tiny praying hands to her chest, puppy dog eyes gleaming. "Promise?"
"Okay," you sighed.
"There's a party this weekend, and we're all going, and we all really want you to come." You looked at her with raised brows, as if to say 'go on?'. "It's Steve Harrington's party."
You'd managed to avoid almost every one of Harrington's parties with some believable, and some not so believable, excuses in the past year since your surge in popularity. "I don't know, Chris, I'm so busy with college applications this weekend-"
"Who needs them!" she cried, "We all know you're gonna get into Yale or Hardvard or Brown or whichever super crazy smart college you want to go to." She grabbed your hand, swaying it back and forth, like a child begging their mother for a candy bar at the grocery store. "Pretty please?" she did the puppy eyes again, knowing it would sway you to agree.
"Fine."
"Yay! I'll come to your house at nine tomorrow to get you!"
And that's how you found yourself in your old bullies house, red solo cup in hand, full of whatever lethal punch one of the football players had concocted. Already tipsy, lingering by the kitchen so that the constant stream of drinks wouldn't slow. Bodies moved ungracefully around you, shimmying and shoving through to the living room or to the ruckus of the back yard where people were throwing each other into Steve Harrington's large pool. You sipped on your drink thoughtfully, feeling the confidence built over the last year slip away from you as you returned to your old wallflower state.
"Why are you hiding in here, silly?" Chrissy came to your side, the shimmery pink eyeshadow on her lids making her green eyes luminous in the low light of the kitchen. "The gang's all next door, come on!" She grabbed your hand with surprising strength, dragging you into the large living room. Deep sofas lined the walls, each with a basketball player and their girlfriends curled up on one. On the one furthest from you, was Nancy and Steve. Next to them, Tommy and Carol. It made your stomach turn to see her with him. You avoided her persistent gaze. But Harrington's gaze, raking you in and eyes darting up and down, was harder to lose. He stared at you adamantly.
When the buzz of chatter died down, a few of the basketball players and their girlfriends left to find more entertaining activities, it was just a handful of people left in the living room. Including you, Nance and Steve. Tommy had the glint of wicked amusement in his eyes, and it made you uncomfortable. "I know what we should do," he said, eyes falling to you. "Let's play a little game." Carol perked up beside him, as if their minds were connected in some twisted way. "Yeah, let's do something fun."
"Games, come on guys," Jason, Chrissy's boyfriend, spoke up. "We're not in middle school anymore." Carol got her own wicked smile.
"Oh, certainly not." her eyes fell on you , analysing how your style had changed. You were wearing dark make up, smoking out your eyes and giving them an alluring pull. You showed off skin, knew how to present yourself. Her eyes narrowed, her smile a venomous sneer. "No, if this were middle school, I wouldn't be caught dead at a party with her."
You simply cocked your head to the side, giving carol a tight lipped sarcastic smile. Inside, you felt thirteen again. Instinctively, you grabbed your elbow, as if you could feel the pain of the break there now. Tommy barked out a laugh at Carol's comment. "Yeah, who knew the black sheep would turn into a black swan, huh?"
You felt gross as he raked his eyes over you, unashamed as he stared at the place where the hem of your dress ended.
"Fuck off, Tommy." you retorted, voice calm but heart racing a million miles a minute behind your ribcage. You felt like you were a lamb on a platter for the lions, ready for the slaughter.
"She speaks!" Carol squawked. Next to them on the couch, Nancy squirmed. Never one for confrontation, she excused herself to grab a drink. You caught her eye as she left. She looked guilty. You wanted to follow her, grab her by the shoulders and tell her to wake up. Tell her that her friends, and her boyfriend, were assholes. But she never listened before. She just couldn't admit it to herself.
"Been a while since we've seen you, babe. Where've you been hiding those legs, huh?" Carol smacked her gum as she spoke, obnoxious and loud.
"I found some better people to hang out with." Beside you, Chrissy stuck her arm over your shoulder. Her face was hard. It made her look older, the serious glare that she was sending Carol. Carol sneered at her, and the expression aged her terribly.
Steve caught your eye, shifted hard away from Tommy. He was gripping his beer with a tight knuckled grip. His eyes slithered down your neck, over your chest, and landed similarly to Tommy's. You grabbed the hem of your dress and yanked downward.
"One of the cool kids now, are you? Not following Wheeler around like a dog anymore?" Tommy took a long sip of his beer.
"We drifted apart." you said simply.
"Oh yeah? Since when?" Carol chimed in again and you felt your blood boil beneath your skin. Steve continued his obvious oggling.
"Since she traded her spine for a shiny new basketball player"
Nancy stood by the door, drink in hand. Her eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. The whole group erupted into astonished laughter, Chrissy struggling to hold back as she clutched her stomach. Steve glared at the floor, as if willing it to say a comeback that would sting you back. Nancy sat down beside him, silent.
"Woah, you gonna take that Wheeler?" Carol guffawed.
She remained silent as a mouse at Steve's side.
"Nance was never one for speaking up anyway. "
You grabbed your cup and flittered out of the living room, the atmosphere suffocating you. You needed another drink, a cigarette, and some alone time. Drink secured, and obscenely strong, you crept up the stairs to the second floor. Once you found a room that didn't stink of puke or had two people sucking face in, an ensuite bathroom, you locked the door and sat in the tub.
Shutting the shower curtain, doc martens resting on the taps, you lit your cigarette. You still couldn't believe you were in Steve Harrington's house - let alone one of his bathtubs - after everything that went down all those years. Yet there you were. Nancy lost to the dark side, you in with the cool kids. Your middle school self wouldn't believe it. You rested your eyes for a moment, breathing in the smoke and taking gentle sips of your drink.
Your thoughts were interrupted by muffled yelling in the next room. You stubbed out your cigarette, trying to get out of the tub as quietly as possible, when you heard your name. It was Steve and Nancy, and they were fighting. About you.
"Why are you bringing this up now?" Steve said, exasperated.
"You guys were awful to her, Steve!"
"Yeah, like you did anything about it, huh Nance?"
You recoiled back into the tub, feeling invasive but caring more about what Nancy had to say for herself than your moral compass. It was a years' worth of pain cementing your form in the tub, ear preened toward the doorway.
"You tormented her!"
"And you watched! If anything, that's worse!"
"How is that worse than what you, YOU, did to her Steve?!
There was a pause. You could imagine Nancy's face; pouted lips, furrowed brow, cheeks blotchy from an ill-fated attempt to hold back her angry tears. Steve laughed humourlessly. It was a cutting sound, and you could hear Nancy take deep breaths.
"What we did, sure, it was stupid. Do I regret it? Of course, we never meant to get her hurt back then."
"You're still awful to her!"
"And there's the kicker," Steve chuckled darkly. "She always stuck up for herself. That's why we did it, we knew she'd give us some fun." There was a long moment where no one spoke. "You never stood up for her once, Nancy."
His words hung in the air like smoke, seeping into your clothes and clogging your throat.
"You never defended her, then or now."
Nancy was flustered, stuttering over her words.
"You never stood up for your best friend? Thats...awful, Nance."
You could hear as Nancy struggled to find a defence, as she used to with you. She would blubber to you, relaying how guilty she felt with enough tears that you eventually ended up comforting her, forgetting that you'd even come to her for help.
"Fuck you, Steve." You could hear as she grabbed her things, storming out of the room with vibrant language. The loud declaration that "it was fucking over" made a laugh - vindictive and partly delighted - rise in your chest.
You smacked a hand over your mouth in realisation. Your movements froze, fear jolting through your bones as you heard Steve pattering about the next room. His movements stopped abruptly as your foot knocked a bottle of shampoo off the edge of the tub.
In a split second - idiotic- decision, you decide to make a run for it. You rip back the curtain, jumping to the floor and striding for the door, the door you had so stupidly locked. A warm hand grabbed your wrist in a vice like grip.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."
His voice was low, deep. It echoed in your chest. It made your heart thump. It made your blood boil.
"Get your hand off me." you seethed. His grip remained, making the skin of your wrist tingle. His touch was firm yet feather light. Unwilling to let you go, but not trying to hurt you. When his hand remained unmoving, you struggled against his grasp. "Get off, Steve."
He was leaning over you, shoulder blocking the door. He hovered above you, taunting, as he looked you over again. His gaze was relentless, inescapable. Confusing.
"Let go, Steve." You sighed out, defeated and embarrassed as he held you in place. You felt unnervingly calm. Strangely glued to the floor under his honey brown eyes as they bored into your own. You wanted nothing more than to move your feet - maybe stomp on his own so he would release the grip on your hand- and get out of the claustrophobic bathroom. You risked a glance up at the boy.
Christ.
Steve was never unattractive. Never had an awkward phase. He was always tall, athletic and tanned. Your hatred for the boy hadn't blinded you to the painfully obvious. But in the dim green light of the bathroom, shadows accentuating sharp cheekbones and jawline, you saw it. Saw it as the other girls did. Steve Harrington was gorgeous. He was painfully attractive, in every sense of the word. From the symmetrical lines of his cupids bow to the dark lashes framing honey eyes, he was hypnotic. And he had you completely under his spell.
"How much of that did you hear?"
His voice was aggravatingly quiet, gentle. Intoxicating. There was a gap between the two of you, small enough that you could feel the warmth of Steve's breath on your cheek as he spoke. You felt like a child being scolded by a parent, guilt driving you to complete honesty. It was the same tone that would make you confess to a teacher, had the same soft lilt.
"Enough." You replied, and your voice was hoarse. Rough, like you needed water desperately. You did, you felt as though your throat was bone dry. "Enough to hear you chew out Nancy."
Steve's eyes were inexplicably soft as he looked at you, and at the mention of Nancy they hardened almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, well," he sighed, languid and frustrated, "that was gonna happen, no matter if it was about you or not." When you raised as brow - both in shock at his willingness to detail the state of his relationship, and as a sign to continue- he went on. "All we do is fight."
"Hmm."
""What?"
"Karma came and bit you both in the ass."
The look Steve gave you made you feel bad for saying it, but it was overruled by the vindictive joy you felt at hurting his feelings. The way he backed up slightly, as if he'd not expected you to say something, made your heart jolt a bit. He'd been so awful to you for so long that the knowledge of his relationship being far from perfect made a smile creep its way across your lips.
Steve huffed, frustrated again.
"You are incredibly hard to understand." He said, the same sickeningly sweet voice at play. "You're very different...to how you used to be."
"You mean I'm not a loser anymore?" You quirked a brow.
"You were never a loser," he stepped closer to you, hand still on yours. "You were just...," he trailed off. His gaze was unashamed, staring straight down at your lips as he spoke. "Different."
'What a crock of shit,' you thought. This coming from the guy that bullied you all throughout middle school, even through high school. it was the biggest load of bullshit you'd ever heard. But your ears rang with the rush of blood behind your ears as your heart hammered inside your chest. Steve Harrington was a flirt, and a good one. You were experiencing his best lines. And they were working.
"Different?" there was hardly any space between the two of you now, Steve's lips brushing over yours as he shifted. You didn't stop him when his hand brushed your sides.
"Yeah," the hand that had been holding your wrist against the doorknob came up to cup your cheek. Steve's top lip was on yours as he spoke, "different."
The two of you crashed together with teeth and lips, a brawl of desperate hands and angry grudges. Fingers tangled in hair immediately, tugging and scratching. Steve tasted of smoke, beer and something innately Boyish. His hands settled at your waist, grasping the fabric of your dress there. His lips were pillowy and soft, addictive. You suddenly understood why Nancy put up with it; kissing Steve Harrington was like having your own personal drug. The kiss deepened as you shifted heads, turning for better angles and access.
Steve groaned as his tongue slid across yours, and the way he so clearly enjoyed the kiss made you feel powerful. He backed you up against the bathroom counter. "Jump," he whispered, your bottom lip between his teeth as he nipped the skin there. You did as he said, his voice husky and hypnotic, and he lifted you to rest on the sink. Legs parted, Steve rested between your open knees. One hand resting there, one working on shrugging you out of the jacket that clung to your shoulders. He pulled away from you, an amused smirk on his face as you whined, to rip the jacket away. Shoulders and neck exposed, Steve got to work on the skin there.
You were suddenly way more aware of what you were doing.
"You better not leave a mark, Harrington." you panted out, as Steve nipped a particularly sweet spot just below your ear. He chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.
"Why?" he asked, smug lilt to his words. "Afraid of people knowing?"
"More ashamed than afraid," you said, choking on your words as Steve nipped at the skin of your throat. "Can't have people thinking just anyone can have me."
Steve pulled back, and god you melted right there. Hair a mess, eyes blown wide, and lips swollen. It was a glorious sight. "And I'm just anyone?" He was smug, overconfident. Irritatingly attractive.
"Yeah," you gripped the belt loops of his jeans, yanking forward. The bewildered look on his face made you grin. "so this stays between us."
"Aye aye, Captain."
And off you went again, lips colliding in heated snarls. There was a primal anger behind it, driving you into his strong arms as he encased you. Was this self sabotage? Maybe so, but it was the hottest thing you'd ever experienced. Steve's nimble fingers caressed their way up your back, finding the straps of your bra with ease. He snapped one against your shoulder, making you yelp and using the sound to slip his tongue back into your mouth. If it didn't make your bones feel like jelly, you would have chastised him for the cheap move. Carnal desire taking over your mind, you let your cold hands scrape up his chest, lifting the hem of his shirt to graze his stomach.
He tensed up at the touch, a stuttered breath fanning your face as he sighed. His two hands landed firm on your knees, creeping up your legs and stopping as he stroked your inner thigh with his forefingers.
"Permission to come aboard?"
You nodded, arousal coursing through you like a stake to the heart.
"Words, please...Captain."
"You find yourself funny, don't you?"
"Very." His fingers were so close yet so far from where you wanted them. "Do you want to?"
"Yes, I do."
"There we go."
He kissed you again, this time slow. It was harder than before, and as he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, Steve slipped your underwear down your legs. He groaned into the kiss as he felt you, excitement clear by the wet patch on your panties. "God, you're wet."
You should have been embarrassed. You should have pulled your panties off the floor and run out of the house and all the way home without looking back. But you were putty in his hands as Steve slipped a finger inside of you, hooking upwards and finding that special spot almost immediately. A high pitched whine - one that shocked even you- made its way out of your mouth, muffled as you buried your head in Steve's neck as he set a slow pace. "What a pretty sound," he groaned, catching your face in his hand as you threw it back against the mirror. "You gonna keep making 'em like that?"
You nodded, breathless, and then he was out of your sight.
Steve kissed down your chest, shoving your dress over your stomach and kissing the skin as he went down. His fingers intwined with yours as they gripped the marble counter. You sat up to catch his eye, and what a pretty sight it was. Steve Harrington, pupils dilated with lust, with his head between your thighs. He kissed your thighs, and you mewled; so close yet so far.
"Please," you moaned. Embarrassment crept up on you, and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "God, please Steve."
Steve dug his fingers into the skin of your thighs, toying with them. He kissed his way to your knees, enjoying the sight before him as you writhed about. "Please what?" he said, and had you not been desperate for him to bury his head between your legs you would have kicked him. He grinned as you fought the urge to beg. "What do you want?" He left surprisingly tender pecks to your knee.
"I want you."
"Where do you want me?" he was taking his time with you, partly for himself - savouring the moment, rejoicing in the way you fell apart before him- and partly to tease you into insanity.
"Jesus Christ," you groaned as he nipped the supple skin of your thighs.
"Steve is just fine." He laughed, putting you out of your misery as he licked one broad stripe up your centre. It was the stupidest, most reckless thing you could be doing, which made it even hotter as Steve hooked his hands under your hips, holding you on top of the counter as your legs wrapped round his head and your hands wove themselves into his hair. Almost immediately you understood Steve's reputation, and you felt a pang of possessiveness as his lips encased your clit, humming as he went. Your back arched off the tiles, mouth agape in a silent 'O' shape. Harrington knew what he was doing, that much was clear as your first orgasm crept up on you.
You could hardly muster words, the only sound in the jade coloured bathroom being the obscene wet sounds and your whimpers as Steve continued to ruin you on the counter. "I'm gonna - oh shit, Steve." The way you moaned his name - like it was the only one you knew, the only one that mattered- made Steve's jeans feel impossibly tight, palming himself for something, anything to relieve himself. He was just as desperate, just as wanting, as you were - if not more. The thought of what was to come made you clench around Steve's fingers, exploding in a white hot scream on his tongue. You fell back against the mirror, hairs sticking to the sides of your face, cheeks flushed with both heat and bashfulness. Steve crept up your stomach again, stealing a kiss when he made it to your lips.
You could taste yourself as he kissed you, slow and deep. His hands swiped the hair from your face, in a gesture entirely too sweet for a boy that had just ravaged you in his bathroom. It bothered you. That wasn't part of the interaction - there was no sweetness involved. It almost took you out of the moment, but as your hips bucked into Steve's, and he let out a strangled groan, the moment was saved. As his lips found purchase on your collarbones, your hands made work of unbuttoning his shirt - purposefully slow, you enjoyed watching his stomach tense as you grazed it. The sharp intake of breath as you began unbuckling his belt made you feel powerful, made your stomach do flips. "Here?" you asked, kissing down his neck to the space where it met his shoulders, "or somewhere else?"
Steve's eyes lit up like a christmas tree at the prospect that this - whatever this was- wasn't over just yet. He gripped your hands on his belt buckle. "Not here." With little effort, he hoisted you over his shoulder - much to your shock and dismay. You swatted his back but couldn't help the swell of arousal as his arm tightened round your waist. He set you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you with one hand on your cheek. In the dim light of his bedroom, Steve Harrington was devastatingly handsome. The soft glow of peaches and oranges made his eyes a molten chocolate, skin peppered with a red hue from...exertion.
"It's rude to stare." he said, voice void of the smugness from before. It made your ribcage rattle, heart thudding with the weight of his stare. It felt like he was looking at your soul, and it made you shiver. The boy who'd tormented you for years, was seeing you. Staring right back at him, your hands made their way to his belt loops. It was your turn to make him writhe a bit.
"Can't help it," you said, voice all airy and entirely foreign to your ears. It dripped with a lust, husky and soft. "You're somewhat of a looker."
You ripped his jeans open, nimble hands ridding him of the garment in seconds. As you grabbed the waistband of his boxers, the outline of his cock straining against the fabric, his hand stopping you. "As amazing as that would be," he said regrettably, "if I don't get you on that bed, I think I may lose my mind." He said it so breathlessly that it made your thighs clench together. He wanted you so badly. You cocked your head to the side, half playful and half serious as you said, "Do something about it then."
Steve didn't need to be told twice. He dove into you, hand steadying your head as your lips locked together - an irritatingly perfect puzzle piece finding another. You were a tangle of legs, arms, and lips as the two of you buried yourselves in Steve Harrington's bed, ridding each other of the clothes that stopped your from touching one another completely. His knee found its home between you, shifting your legs apart to make room for hips. You were encased in Steve; his scent, the feel of his lips on your skin, his legs locking yours in place. His hips rocking into yours as he kissed your neck with sinful skill.
Your hands grew restless, tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck as if he would understand the morse code in the pulling. "Steve," you groaned as he knocked his hips into yours, "please."
You were begging, and you were embarrassed. You couldn't bring yourself to say the words- couldn't stand the thought of asking your middle school bully to fuck you in his bed at his own party. But the boy had other ideas.
"Say it." he toyed with your clit, thumbing it as you whined. When you stayed silent, he pinched one of your nipples between his fingers. he smirked at how quickly they puckered underneath him. "Say you want me."
Your cheeks burned with shame. You couldn't - wouldn't- beg him.
He hovered over you, hands either side of your head, nose brushing yours. You could feel the ghost of his lips over your own. His hand came to rest on your chin, thumb sliding over your lip, tugging it down and letting it slide back. "Open."
You did as he said, opening your mouth wide enough for Steve to slide his thumb into your mouth, a teasing smile on his face as you swirled your tongue around it. "Say you want me to fuck you." He pulled his thumb out of your mouth slowly, grinning as it made a satisfying pop. He leaned down to the shell of your ear. "Tell me you want me to ruin you," he whispered.
The burn in the pit of your stomach raged as Steve kissed the hollow of your throat, waiting for you to speak. Your breath was shallow, eyes closed as you whispered into the air, hoping the buzz of the party below would swallow your words.
"I want you to ruin me."
Steve grinned, wolfish and smug, as he lined himself up with you, locking eyes with you as he pushed himself in. You knew you were gone when he moaned your name like a prayer, said it like it was the cure to his troubles. Like you were something to treasure. One strong arm gripped the headboard as he panted. "God," he grunted out, "you feel incredible."
There was something electric about hearing praise from the boy that tormented you for years, something wickedly delightful about watching his mouth hang open with pleasure as he bottomed out inside you. You clenched around him, desperate for any friction to satisfy the burning between your legs. "Can I move?" he groaned.
"Yes, please."
In public, Steve was an athlete. Behind closed doors, under the sheets, he was an Olympian. He set a fast pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, deeper inside of you every time. The sounds of the party- the drunken teens stumbling, the music blaring- were drowned out by the slapping of skin on skin, of your whines and Steve Harrington's moans as you fell apart beneath him.
"Shitshitshit- man, you're amazing." he moaned as he rutted into you. You were frozen in pleasure, mouth open from silent screams of pleasure. You bit your lip, so hard you would have tasted blood had Steve not being everything you felt in that moment. "Oh, fuck," you groaned at a particularly deep thrust, "I'm s-so close."
"Me too," Steve whimpered, and you were sure it was the hottest thing you'd ever heard. "Where should I-"
"I'm on the pill." you sputtered out.
Steve's eyes darkened, delighted at the permission, determined to get you to your peak before he fell apart himself. "Yeah? You gonna let me come inside?" His hand reached between your conjoined bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Gonna come for me?"
Your back arched off the mattress, the coil in your stomach snapping at the same time Steve collapsed on top of you, his stuttering as he came. You both panted, recovering from the exertion. Rolling over onto his back, you and Steve stared at the ceiling, the weight of what you had done sinking in.
It was wrong, so wrong. He'd just broken up with Nancy, seconds before you let him crawl between your legs. You would have felt terrible, like you'd betrayed her, had it not been so good.
You would have felt guilty, had you not felt the shake of your legs still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm.
Steve turned his head to face you. You turned to look at him.
"I'm sorry about how I treated you, before."
You snorted.
"You don't have to apologise just because we had sex, Steve." The ridiculousness of it made you laugh. "Thanks, though." You were both silent for a while, just laying there. You tried spying your clothes across the room. "Where's my underwear?"
"Oh," Steve mumbled, getting up from the bed and into the bathroom. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating form, back muscles flexing as he stretched. You did the same, a soreness washing over you. Steam filled the bathroom, the sound of the shower running loud against the dying party below. Steve returned in his jeans, smirking as pulled your lavender lace panties from the back pocket, tossing them at you. You caught them with one hand.
"Perv," you said, sliding them back up your legs. Steve smiled from the bathroom doorway. He was looking at you that way again. It made your stomach uneasy. "What?" you said.
"You can, uh, clean up here. If you want." He scratched the back of his neck. He gestured to the shower. You stomach flipped again. You rose from the bed, using the sheet to cover your chest. You stopped in front of Steve, who was struggling not to look down at your loosely covered front.
"This is not a thing, okay?" you said slowly, as if saying the words aloud would make them true. As if hearing them from your own lips would stop the way your lips yearned for Steve's the second they left your own. "This goes nowhere else."
Steve nodded, mockingly serious.
"Aye aye, Captain."
He grabbed your hand, making you drop the sheet, and led you into the steam filled bathroom. You let him wash your skin, all soap and too much affection given who he was to you. You didn't stop him when he kissed below your eye, on your nose, or when he placed an all too tender kiss on your lips for just a second. But it was long enough. You let him wrap you in a towel, drying you with gentle hands. You didn't object when he dressed you in his old basketball shorts and a tattered sweatshirt. You let him tuck you under his sheets, didn't flinch away when he tucked your hair behind your ear.
You let him wrap his arm over your waist when he returned, having kicked the last stragglers out of the house. You let yourself fall asleep in his bed, warm and soft and all too inviting, much like its inhabitant.
What you wouldn't do was let yourself fall for this, you thought. You wouldn't fall for Steve Harrington. Wouldn't fall for his moves, his overused lines. Wouldn't get wrapped up with the wrong guy.
But as morning came, and you turned to see Steve already looking at you, that look on his face, you thought that maybe it was too late. And by the looks of Steve Harrington, it was too late for him as well.
#steve harrington#steve harrington smut'#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington imagine#steve x reader#stranger things au#stranger things 4#enemies to lovers#bully romance#slowburn#fluff#smut#fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#steve harrigton fanfic#steddie#steve x eddie#steve x nancy#chrissy cunningham#this is so dirty#I need a hot shower#joseph quinn#joe keery
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Kinktober Day 31: Alien Kink + DK
For ⚔️
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2k
Pairing: Seokmin x Reader | Genre: smut, sci fi
Warnings: dk is a clueless virgin alien, sex ed, oral f. rec., vaginal fingering, alien anatomy, breeding mention
Seokmin has only been dating you for two earth months, but already, he knows he’s in love.
His species doesn’t put much stock in romance or dating - the most they seek is a suitable mate to help produce offspring every mating cycle - but Seokmin has always been different. Different enough that he’s never participated in the mating cycles at all, not wanting to share that side of himself with someone who won’t stay.
Different enough that he’s one of the few of his species that has ever left their planet, different enough that he can almost pass as human, if it weren’t for his pointed ears and chameleon-like qualities. You don’t seem to mind them, thankfully, nor do you mind the odd looks you get whenever you go out in public together.
Your kind has known about aliens for less than five years, barely long enough to grow accustomed to the idea and definitely not long enough for interspecies relationships to be normal. Seokmin isn’t worried though, knowing that as earth grows into a galactic trade hub, more and more relationships like yours will pop up.
Until then, he’s content to ignore the looks, hold your hand on the street, and proudly let his cheeks flare purple, the color a sign of his deep, true love for you.
Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.
The truth is, he’s dying to know what you look like naked.
He’s tried to do research, but what he now knows is called ‘porn’ doesn’t seem to be for him, and he can’t even begin to understand the words or the diagrams in that anatomy textbook he borrowed from the library. Besides, he only wants to see you, touch you, learn you, no one else.
So, he does what’s most logical to him, and simply asks.
It’s on a calm Sunday afternoon that he first broaches the topic, one that sees Seokmin reading with his head in your lap as you rewatch your favorite show for the nth time. His book is getting to a particularly spicy bit, one that has heat growing in both of his stomachs, but as usual, when it gets to the more specific parts, Seokmin is clueless as to what they’re talking about.
What is a pussy? Why is the main character putting his mouth on the love interest’s? And why is everything so wet??
These are all questions Seokmin needs an answer to, and he reaches over for the remote to pause your show so he can have your full attention. You blink down at him, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish, unsure of how to voice his questions.
In the end, he just asks you flat out.
By the time you get over your shock, finish laughing, and pull yourself back together, he’s pouting on the other end of the couch, his arms crossed and his cheeks bright orange in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Minnie, you just caught me off guard. Ummm,” you stall as you try to figure out how to answer, deciding to just be as clinical and explanatory as possible. “Humans generally have one of two types of genitalia, a vagina or a penis, and pussy is a less formal word for vagina, which is what I have. There’s something called oral sex, and it’s when you use your mouth to make someone feel good. That’s what’s happening in your book.”
Ohhh. That makes sense, Seokmin thinks.
“And everything is wet because, well, the mouth is wet and the pussy can make its own wetness, so everything just gets a little… messy.”
Seokmin squirms in his place at the end of the couch, suddenly not at all interested in his book and only too intrigued by the idea of putting his mouth on you.
“Can we try that?” Seokmin asks urgently, shuffling over to you on his knees and imploring you with his eyes.
“Right now?” You question, trepidation in your voice and nervousness on your face. “I haven’t shaved or anything.”
“What’s shaving?” He’s never heard that word before, doesn’t have a clue what it means, though you seem to think it’s bad that you haven’t done it.
“Never mind,” you sigh happily, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss.
Kissing, Seokmin is used to. Kissing, Seokmin is good at.
And he loves loves loves kissing you, loves your sounds and the taste of your tongue and the feeling of your lips against his. Loves how close he feels to you and how close you get to him, loves how his head spins and how your hands wander, your fingers tracing over the pointed tips of his ears and down the ridges of his abdomen.
He shivers when you break away to suck kisses into his neck, his head falling back to give you more room as you bite and lick your way down his throat. You pull down his t-shirt collar to get at his collarbones and he covers your hand with his, pulling back and reminding you of the goal.
“I’m going to perform oral sex on you, remember?”
You bite back a smile and tell him, “Seokmin, try saying ‘go down on you’ or ‘eat your pussy’ instead. They sound a bit sexier.”
“Baby, I promise I would never eat you. Sure, humans can be a delicacy on some planets, but that’s not how I do things,” he says, hand on his biggest heart and with all the seriousness in the world, unsure why threatening to consume you would sound any sexier than what he said.
“It’s just a figure of speech, Minnie. You won’t actually be eating me,” you promise gently, reminding Seokmin just how much he has left to learn about you and your people and your silly combinations of words.
“Oh. What will I be doing?”
“It’s like kissing, but you kind of have to multitask? It’s hard to explain, I’ll guide you once you get down there.”
He rolls off the couch and shuffles close to you on his knees, placing his hands on yours to push your legs apart. Gazing expectantly at you, he waits for you to remove your clothes so he can see what he’s working with, all three of his hearts beginning to race as you lift your hips and shyly push at your pajama shorts.
He can’t believe he’s about to see you bare, his first lover, his first girlfriend, his first human, and if he has anything to say about it, his last. The shorts get to your knees and he has to move his hands, settling them on your upper thighs and taking in a deep breath, tasting something sweetsour and heady on the air.
When you open your legs for him, he knows instantly that the flavor was you, and that it’s something he wants on his tongue now. He should take a look around, explore you a bit, but he’s letting his instincts guide him and they’re saying to get his mouth on you as soon as possible, lest he lose this chance.
And oh, oh, Seokmin gets it now, why it’s called ‘eating out,’ because he does want to eat you, he wants to consume you, he wants to drink you down. He wants to lick his fingers and taste you. Bite his lip and taste you. Swipe his tongue over his teeth and taste you. He wants you all over him, so he practically shoves his face into your pussy, shaking it from side to side to spread you out as his tongue laps at the folds and creases of you.
The taste is more concentrated further down, so further down he goes, making a questioning noise when he encounters something unexpected. There’s a… hole, or maybe an entrance? Are you hollow here?
His tongue delves inside, and all at once, he’s in heaven. It’s like everything else falls away, his shoulders untensing and his fingers spasming on your knees as his cheeks flare a bright red, the color of deep, gnawing arousal.
You’re searing hot and soaking wet, like a scalding shower on a freezing day, and your walls feel like molten velvet, the texture and flexibility of them mind blowing as they ripple and squeeze around his tongue.
He’s never felt, tasted, encountered anything like you in his life, and he hopes you’re alright with him sticking around for the rest of it, because he can’t give this up.
Seokmin can’t know about the glory of your pussy and then suddenly forget about it, no, this will stay with him forever.
He feels something nudge against his forehead and looks up, his eyes nearly crossing in an effort to identify what’s touching him. It’s your fingers, you’re swirling them over something and with every pass, he feels you tightening up on his tongue, feels more of your slick coming out to coat his face.
“What are you doing?” He pulls away to ask, his tongue slightly sore and his lips swollen.
“Um, this is my clit, there’s a lot of nerves here and touching it makes me feel the best,” you pant, stilling your hand and moving it to rest on your hip so he can inspect you closer. There’s a small bump peeking out of a little hood, and when Seokmin pokes his tongue out to give it a kitten lick, your hips buck into him.
“Like that?”
“Yeah, Minnie, like that. And you can fuck me with your-- your fingers, they can go inside.”
Oh, he likes whatever’s happening to your voice right now. You sound all breathy and needy and relaxed, and when he slides two fingers inside like you said, you moan raggedly and clench around them, the feeling of your walls grasping his fingers making his head spin.
He can only imagine what you would feel like around his aching cock, can only hope that one day, he’ll get to experience it. Maybe if he does really good with this, you’ll let him inside of you, let him fill you up and stretch you out, let him mate you and breed you and keep you.
Just the idea has him doubling his efforts, has him wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard, increasing the speed of his fingers until he feels like he really is fucking you with them, until your walls are undulating around his fingers and your arousal is dripping down his wrist.
“Just like that, Seokmin. Don’t stop, please,” you cry brokenly, your hips moving with his hand as he pushes you higher and higher.
He moans his affirmation into you and the vibrations must send you over the edge, because your pussy is fluttering and clenching and squeezing like crazy, and he can feel your clit throbbing between his lips as wetness seeps out of you, your whines so high and sweet he wants to bottle them up, save them for later.
He wants to keep going but begrudgingly stops when you push him away by the forehead, his fingers stagnant inside of you and his lips detaching from your clit with a slick pop.
“Was that good?” Seokmin slurs, his mouth exhausted and his brain drunk on you.
“It was perfect, Seokmin. You did such a good job,” you murmur as you pet his hair, not stopping him when he lays down again, his cheek pillowed by your thigh. He’s still aching but you seem tired, and he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last after that, anyway.
He’ll need to practice a lot if he wants to make it through to the actual mating part.
Oh no, how terrible that will be, Seokmin thinks with a giddy smile.
Kinktober Masterlist
AN: okayyy this was getting a little long so i cut it off before we got to the fucking but i might do a part two!! if that's something you're interested in, pls comment or reblog to let me know!!
thank you so much for sticking with me and encouraging me through all of kinktober, it's been harder than i ever thought it would be but also more fun than i expected, and i feel like i've really grown as a smut writer!
ily and happy halloween 💖💖💖
#svthub#kvanity#seventeen smut#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#seventeen x y/n#seventeen fic#seventeen au#seventeen imagines#seokmin smut#seokmin x reader#seokmin scenarios#lee seokmin smut#lee seokmin x reader#lee seokmin imagines#dokyeom x reader#dokyeom imagines#dokyeom smut#dk smut#dk x reader#dk fic#dk fanfic#kpop smut#kpop imagine#kpop oneshots#kpop scenarios#kpop fanfic#✨emily writes✨#✨em's kinktober✨
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rich! yandere x fem reader pt.2
tw: yandere themes, stalking, obsessive behavior, abuse of power
“Thank you for squeezing us into your schedule, we hope you’ll take our offer into consideration. Please, take your time when coming to a decision” the man stands up gathering his papers swiftly and putting them in his briefcase, warner stands up, he has an expensive suit on the dark color of it dripping with luxury, its fit highlighting his muscular build, broad shoulders, perfect posture but his stature is still relaxed, he smiles politely at the man and nods "I'll think it over carefully, let me see you out" he leads the man outside exchange farewells and a handshake, once the man is out and the door is shut he lets out a sigh, that meeting lasted much longer than he expected, he walks across the office towards his desk, his office is spacious, wide shelves containing books, awards, files, on one side of the room a comfortable leather couch and sofa chair with a table in front of them, on the other side of it a small bar, his desk is intimidatingly long and behind it, the entire wall is glass overlooking the beautiful city.
He sits down on his desk chair and turns towards his monitor, his eyes softening once they settle on the screen, a soft smile ghosting his lips "my apologies my love, that took longer than I had expected" on his screen was a security camera footage, live footage of you working diligently at your job, he has access to security cameras everywhere and he installed a few in your house, he leans back in his chair watching you, he considers this a form of spending time with you, as well as making sure no one at your job crosses the line and causes him to get his hands dirty, once a co-worker of yours had thought he was high and mighty because he had gotten a promotion, a client of yours screwed up and caused a big commotion in the office and of course, he was blaming you for it, he watched the man raise his voice at you, he felt pride swell in his chest when you kept your composure and handled the situation like a professional, never cracking once, he loved that about you, still..the man was trash, there was no use for him around you, the next day news spread that he had been fired, he let out a low chuckle in amusement when the microphone on your computer caught you grumbling "serves him right" under your breath.
He's aware of sexual harassment in the workplace so when a filthy man in your office invaded your space when you were alone and groped you he wasted no time in throwing him in a ditch somewhere, not before cutting off his filthy hands for touching you of course, you were such a sweet pretty thing, he can't control the fact everyone wants a piece of you so he takes it upon himself to welcome anyone who tries to make a move on you, look at you, touch you or hurt you, he likes to see how confident they are in their actions for the irony of how pathetic they are when they're on their knees bleeding and pleading for mercy, you're more than capable of course but you're his love, anyone who touches you doesn't deserve to breathe.
He saw you rest your head on your desk "you poor thing you must be so exhausted" if you accept him he would make it all better for you, he'd give you his heart and soul if everything in the world wasn't enough for you, you still don't accept his gifts, at least you don't use them anyway, most of his gifts ended up being sent back or thrown out, except his most recent gift, the lingerie set he sent you is tucked deep in your closet, this piqued his curiosity, did you actually like his gift? were you planning on using it?
His head was in the clouds by now, he was starting to be convinced that you were happy with his gift, that you were finally ready for him, that you'd maybe show up at his doorstep, his present under your clothes, his breath hitched at the thought of what he bought you touching your soft skin.
He snapped back to reality when something on the screen caught his attention, you were talking and laughing with a man as you gathered your belongings, what raised his confusion is him leading you out of the office with his hand resting on your back, were you leaving with him?
He switched to the security camera of the parking lot and sure enough, he saw you getting in a car that wasn't yours with another man. He reached for his phone inside his suit and dialed a number, the line almost immediately picks up, the person on the other line waits patiently for orders, warner doesn't hesitate before he orders in a cold flat tone "follow her" he hangs up, his dark eyes set on the screen.
'my love..who is that man?'
#fem reader#yandere oc#rich yandere#obsessive yandere#rich yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere blog#male yandere#yandere fanfiction
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You may have done this before, I haven’t read all your work, but How about Joel and Tommy (or just Joel 😜) take you on a horse ride, out into the woods and end up having a fun time on the grass
Tell Me a Secret | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Non, thank you so much for this request. I hope you enjoy this! I love getting requests from ya'll, makes my heart so happy.xx As a side note, this will be my final fic as an unmarried woman. My wedding is in less than a month (!!!!)
Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications
Word Count: 7.8K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: References to canon typical violence. It's hinted that readers father was abusive. Death. Blood. Reader is an artist. Ellie/Sarah/Tommy/Maria and others are referenced in this. Ellie and Reader are friends. Alcohol. Angst. Horses. Pining. Oral (female receiving). Praise kink. Pet names. Emotional sex. Very unprotected sex. They fuck outside, but nobody is around. Joel makes a questionable choice in this one that invades readers privacy. Breeding kink if you squint. Creampie. Fingering. Lots of references to art and poetry. A surprise ending that might mean more later on...
Immersibility: Reader has no physical descriptions apart from having hair, breasts, and a uterus. It is noted at one point that there is charcoal visible on her hands. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own).
Creative Credits: the middle image of the graphic is a drawing by @kamal.classic.art on Instagram. The poem referenced at the end is by Olivia Ann Rose. The opening section is modified poetry from Brianna Pastor. Inspiration was pulled from the lake scene in The Princess Diaries 2. And shout out to our boi Leonardo da Vinci, cuz I reference the Mona Lisa.
It’s really easy to be angry.
Over the years, anger became so familiar to you that you had a difficult time differentiating between that and your sadness. Both felt equally daunting.
It’s difficult to work on your sadness with its roots are boiling with anger. Both don’t always look the way one might expect them to. Sometimes, the face of anger is neutral, a quiet rumble you don’t notice because it’s buried so deep.
That steady stream of anger and hurt seemed to trickle into every single thing that you did. You had become cold and numb to the reality of the world around you; an empty shell of who you once were.
And then you met Joel Miller.
He came along and started to nurture what you buried so deep that you eventually forgot what was even planted there.
And you did the same for him.
Like the sun, you elevated the ordinary with a simple touch. Your rays warmed the cockles of his heart he thought had gone so cold they could never be revived.
This is that story.
++++
It doesn’t take Ellie long to figure it out.
“Hey, give me that back!” You snap at her, attempting to pull the tattered notebook from her hands, but it’s pointless. Her tiny fingers must have been sumo wrestlers in another life, you wager. Putting space between both of your bodies by quickly walking backward, she locks eyes with you until her back is up against the makeshift bookshelf.
This is your favorite place in all of the Jackson – the makeshift library Maria started a few months back. It’s not much, but with your help, the collection is starting to grow. You’re quick to stuff books into your pack on raids and have summoned a handful of the townspeople to aid in this effort. It’s always quiet and peaceful; a stark contrast to the world outside the walls that keep you safe here.
Well, that was until a rather foul-mouthed 14-year-old named Ellie arrived in town. Despite your age difference, you two have become fast friends, even if she does annoy the shit out of you sometimes.
“Ellie, I am so serious right now, please give my notebook back,” you plead with her from across the room, your hands on your hips, a serious undertone to your voice.
“Why? Whatcha trying to hide so bad? Drawing a bunch of dicks or something?” she jokes.
When you don’t respond, her eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit, dude. You are drawing a bunch of dicks, aren’t you!” she teases, resting the pads of her fingers in between the pages of the notebook, slightly parting the paper. All she’d have to do is move them a little and the pages would fall open, revealing your secrets faster than a Catholic at confession.
She starts to crack the spine of the notebook, but your voice calling out once more causes her pause. “No, wait, Ellie, stop,” you say a tad softer this time. “I’m not drawing a bunch of dicks, and even if I were, that’s not something you should be looking at – it’s…personal,” you respond, hoping the sincerity and softness you’re attempting to frost over the obvious bite of anger behind your voice will encourage her to listen.
She stares back at you, scanning your face up and down for a hint of the truth, thinking for a few moments.
“Fine,” she says. Your shoulders fall from your ears and the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding escapes from your lungs. She walks back over to you and extends her arm out, the notebook in hand, preparing to hand it over to you as if she’s some sort of General accepting a truce deal.
As you reach out to grab it, she lets it slip from her hands a few seconds too early. A nearly silent oops escapes her lips. The notebook falls to the floor with an audible thud, dropping as fast as a dead body, its pages falling open on both sides, like blood spilling on the floor.
Before you register what’s even happening, Ellie already has her knees on the floor, hovering over the open pages, a look of astonishment and delight on her face.
“Whoa – is that,” she asks, but before she can finish her sentence, you’re quickly snatching it up, snapping it closed with an audible thud. You both rise, and she’s looking at you, a smug smile of knowing on her face. Her smile grows like she’s just found some sort of secret treasure. “That was me, wasn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question, she already knows the answer.
You consider lying, but fuck it, you’re in too deep at this point. Plus, she may be only 14, but she’s smart as a whip, and you know she’d be able to call your bullshit from a mile away. Besides, she already saw the damn thing.
“Yes, okay, Ellie. Fine,” you concede. “It’s you. I – I like to draw,” you admit sheepishly like you’re afraid of what might come if you say it out loud.
It’s not that you’re not proud of your drawings, you are. The only thing you can attribute to your unwillingness to share your hobby with the world is akin to a trauma response.
Memories of your father ripping up your first notebook of drawings, the one he found under your pillow when you were a teenager, flash through your mind. Goosebumps litter your body when you swear you can still hear his raspy voice, harsh from the burn of whiskey, telling you that drawing won’t pay the bills and to knock that shit off or he’ll beat it out of you. He wasn’t particularly a man of his word, but somehow, he managed to keep that one. You’re not sure when the anger started to creep in, but you think it might have been then. Watching your hard work darken and crumble in the fire almost hurt worse than the sear his belt left behind.
“You were reading your comic over there the other day,” you admit, nodding your head toward the little nook by the window. “The light was just right, and well…I don’t know, I just got inspired and figured I’d give drawing you a shot,” you admit, voice soft and shy.
“Well you’re pretty fucking good at it,” Ellie admits.
You shove it down, the spark of happiness her words ignite in you, and it works. For now.
“Yeah, whatever,” you respond, clutching your not-so-secret secret closer to your chest. You aren’t good at taking compliments; especially now, after everything that’s happened.
“Can I have it?” Ellie asks. She rolls her eyes for a second, before eventually adding a please to the end of her request. You remember her telling you a few weeks back that Joel has been working with her on manners. You’d only met him once, but as far as you could tell, he was the southern gentleman, wounded dog, not to be fucked with, but still the impossibly polite type of man. The type of man that would punch another guy in the bar for questioning a lady’s honor, or stab him in the kneecap for looking at his girl the wrong way.
You consider her request for a moment, before eventually deciding that since it is her likeness, she should be the one to have it. You crack open the book, being careful to hide the other pages from her view before the familiar sound of paper ripping fills the room. You’re careful to tear it in a straight line, close to the spine, so as not to ruin the drawing.
With her portrait in hand, you bargain, “You can have this under one condition. You can’t tell anyone about this.” Ellie gives a subtle nod as if to agree. You don’t notice her middle and index fingers crossed tightly behind her back when you hand it over.
“So you’re sure you don’t have anything super naughty in there?” Ellie teases.
“Alright kid, no more dick jokes or Joel is gonna choke me,” you chide, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. Wouldn’t that be quite the piece of jewelry; a Joel Miller hand necklace. The truth is that while you don’t have anything super naughty, you do have more than one drawing of her guardian hiding in your pages. You’re not sure of much anymore, but there is one thing you do know for certain – those drawings are something she can never, ever, see. Those drawings are something nobody can ever see.
Ellie was quick to discover your secret.
Good thing it was just one of them.
You drape your arm over her shoulder and walk out of the library together.
++++
It all happens so quickly from that moment on.
It’s only spring, yet the Jackson grapevine is in full bloom, carrying the fruits of your talent to pretty much the whole town. You can’t say you’re surprised. What did you expect from a 14-year-old with minimal entertainment options?
It starts with Ellie letting it slip to Maria while they’re washing the dishes from family dinner with her, Tommy, and Joel.
Maria lets it slip to Tommy.
Tommy lets it slip to Samantha, the town’s soapmaker.
Samantha lets it slip to Joey, the butcher.
Joey lets it slip to – well – pretty much everyone else. You wouldn’t have guessed the town's butcher would be such a gossip, but dead cattle don’t make great conversationalists. Before you know it, you’re accepting some sort of art deal over porridge in the dining hall like it’s a shady drug deal.
“Come on, think of how happy it will make people,” Maria pleads with you. “You only have to do as many as you want,” she adds, looking at you with kind eyes, the ones that are nearly impossible to say no to.
You stare back at her in silence, attempting to piece together a response in your mind, but your words may as well be a 1,000-piece single-color puzzle at this point.
“So many of us don’t have those memories anymore. Think of how much it will mean to people to be able to put a drawing of their family up on their walls once more, you know?” she says, laying it on thick. Like how it used to be is what she leaves out.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” you respond, dropping your spoon on the wooden table next to your half-eaten bowl of breakfast. You feign annoyance, but deep down, you’re excited about the opportunity. Scared shitless, but excited.
“Yeah? Great. Oh just wait until I tell Tommy, he’s going to be ecstatic,” she says. “Now finish up, can’t have any of that food going to waste,” she quips, before swinging her leg over the bench and adjusting the brim of the cowboy hat on her head as she walks away, a smug look on her face.
++++
In the following days and weeks, you find yourself immersed in the lives of the residents of Jackson. Setting up your makeshift easel from scrap wood you collected on patrol in living rooms, on front porches, and amidst picturesque landscapes.
The people, once reserved, slowly begin to open up to you as they share stories and anecdotes of their lives before. It’s sweet, you think – how chatty people get when they have nothing to do but sit there while you try your best to capture their likeness.
Some conversations are easier than others. Most of the time you just nod your head and let out occasional nods or grunts of agreement, too immersed in your work to listen to what they’re saying, but sometimes you find yourself so engrossed in their stories that the drawings take hours to complete.
As much as you learn about them, you rarely open up about yourself. Sometimes they ask, sometimes they don’t. Regardless, you feel like the woman you were before no longer exists, she was left to decay with the rest of your family back in Austin. You know she’s in there, buried deep inside, hiding behind a door of anger and tears. Sometimes she cries out, but you buried the key to that lock years ago. No getting out now.
As the portraits accumulate, so does a sense of connection and unity. You’re no longer an unknown. A threat against resources. When you first arrived in town, you did your best to make yourself useful and show people that you weren’t just dead weight. And it worked, or you think it worked anyway, but the past few weeks have caused a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Before the apocalypse, you never really saw a place for your artwork or your talent. But now, you can see how it’s becoming a bridge, linking generations and weaving a tapestry of shared histories. Giving people something to cling to, something to hold on to, something to cherish once more.
Of all of the portraits you’ve done so far, your favorite is the one you did of Tommy and Maria. She hasn’t said anything yet, but from the way she placed her hand on her belly, and the way Tommy looked at her, it was pretty easy to guess. You did your best to capture their likeness, knowing it would likely be shown to generations to come. When you showed them the final result, Maria cried and hugged you tighter than you’ve been hugged in years. Their love was obvious – radiant and shiny. If anything were to make you believe in love again, wouldn’t seeing it right in front of your face be it? You try not to think about it too much when you realize it doesn’t.
You no longer have to walk the streets of Jackson, bouncing from place to place, alone. There’s always someone to talk to on your journey, or a comfortable silence paired with a subtle wave in the distance, or the occasional sound of a creaky screen door opening for you. Even before things went to shit, you never had this – community. With each finished portrait, you find yourself making a new friend.
You should be happy now. You know that. Your parasympathetic nervous system has had an opportunity to return to its normal state for the first time in years. You have the warmth of friends, and people like you. Like actually like you. They like what you’re doing, what you’re creating.
But you aren’t.
Because while you’re capturing the entire town's attention, you’re starting to realize you only care about attention when it’s from one person.
And unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to give two shits about you or what you create.
As you lay in bed that night, fidgeting with your necklace, you stare up at the ceiling and think about what started this whole infatuation in the first place. It was a drunken night, hardly anything. Not even a story worth repeating. You shouldn’t even be thinking about it. It was nothing.
But as you feel sleep calling you into its abyss, you remember the way his voice called your name that night and the heavy feeling of his gaze on your chest.
It was nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
That doesn’t stop you from dreaming about him that night.
++++
Being the town's only artist comes with its price. While most of the time you don’t mind the endless stream of hellos and requests for additional portraits, you’re not up for much conversation this morning.
You slept like absolute shit last night and decided that if you weren’t going to sleep through the night, you might as well be productive with your time. When your eyes fluttered closed thinking of what, and who, to draw, the image of Joel sipping a cup of coffee in the dining hall, reading an old Western book from your library, played on the screen of your heavy lids. You decided to put your feelings on paper and start a new portrait. After you woke up from your dream, probably around 3 am you guessed, you stayed up late enough to see the sun rise over the horizon, before eventually deciding that it was too late, early for most, to go to bed now.
Seeking solitude and shielding yourself from prying eyes, you make yourself at home in the stables. You perch on a weathered stool in the corner of the barn, perfectly positioned in the corner so your back is supported, and begin sketching the handsome grump. As if he was right in front of you, his features are regal; sharp jawline decorated with a salt and pepper beard, one of the patches faintly shaped like a heart, dark brown eyes that resemble those of a deer, the crinkled lines around his eyes and forehead that serve as proof of age. Arguably your favorite feature is his nose. Prominent, aquiline, like a bow that perfectly ties all of his facial features together. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man.
Completely immersed in your world, you lose track of time. You could have been sketching for twenty minutes or three hours, who’s to say. Exhaustion envelopes you in an embrace and you doze off in a peaceful slumber.
When Joel enters the stable for his morning shift, he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye; perched up on a rickety old stool, head slumped over, resting on the wooden edge of the barn. Your arms are wrapped snuggly around your chest as if to keep yourself warm in the dewy morning air. As he approaches closer, treading carefully against the hay as if he were a cat trying to sneak up on its prey, he takes in the finer details of you peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware.
There’s charcoal on your hands, your lips are slightly parted and there’s a little glisten of drool pooling in the corner of your lips, and your hair slightly covers your face. Jesus, he thinks you’re gorgeous awake, but seeing you asleep – so vulnerable and tender – nearly causes his heart to skip a beat. He tries to ignore what it does to his cock. He knows you’re an artist, but with the way you look right now, hell, you might as well be the artwork, too.
He thinks he could stare at you for hours, but there’s something more pressing for him to look at first. He’s seen you carry your trusty notebook around, rarely ever setting it down, and certainly being very guarded when you have it cracked open around others – especially him. So when he sees it lying on the ground, he thinks…what could one look hurt? He doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He’ll be satisfied once he knows what you’re hiding in there. Surely. One look, and he’ll wake you and that will be it.
After all, it’s just a peek.
He’s not quite sure what he expected, but this was most definitely not it. As if he were looking into a mirror, his reflection stares back at him from the dull matte of the pages. As he flips from one page to the next, he swears time stops altogether as he takes it in. Your secret.
As he scans the pages, something burns deep in the marrow of his bones, a fire and heat that exists only for you. Now that he knows your truth, he’s not sure he can stop what he does next. His large palm floats out to caress the underside of your jaw, and the pad of his thumb ghosts over the soft swell of your bottom lip. Before he lets himself get too carried away in his thoughts, he clears his throat.
“Mornin’,” a husky voice says, startling you. You all but launch into orbit and almost fall over like the stool, but the owner of the intruding voice grabs your elbow before your backside collides with the floor. You’re relieved to see that your saving grace is Joel, yet you’re burning with embarrassment at your clumsiness.
Joel clears his throat before speaking with his hand still grasping your elbow, “M’pologies, didn’t mean to startle ya, sweetheart.”
”Oh no, I was just…” you sputter out, still finding your bearings. He reluctantly removes you from his grip but not without letting his fingers trail across your skin as he lets go. The ghost of his touch is a noticeable one.
“Didn’t sleep well last night, I take it?” Joel asks, a softness to his voice.
“Afraid not,” you say, kicking your heel into the hay, trying your best to avoid his eyes so as not to spill all of your fucking guts. I was too busy thinking about you.
“You’re in luck, darlin’. I have just the thing to wake you up,” he says, “and ‘m not takin’ no for an answer,” he says with a wink.
“I’m sorry, am I speaking to Joel Miller? Have you been bitten? Are you feeling alright?” you joke, placing the back of your hand up to his forehead, a giant smile on your face.
“My reputation of being Jackson’s own Boo Radley precedes me, I see,” he jokes back.
You shoot him a look that says who the fuck is Boo Radley? Instead of giving you an explanation, he just chuckles like it’s an inside joke.
“Come on now, we’re goin’ for a ride,” he says with finality.
You try to ignore the heat that stirs low in your belly at the thought of riding with Joel Miller as he guides you deeper into the stables.
++++
The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the picturesque landscape of Jackson. Situated in front of Joel on the horse, you close your eyes and exhale all the air from your lungs. You hold your lack of breath for a moment, before feeling your lower belly rise, taking in the crisp air laced with the scent of wildflowers and fresh blades of grass in through your nostrils.
Joel is an easy-riding partner. He doesn’t say much, yet you feel secure in his presence with your back nestled up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped around you, his capable hands holding the reigns, guiding the horse through the scenic trail with ease. You rub your eyes for a moment before opening them to take in the breathtaking view of the snow-capped mountains far off in the distance, and the lush green meadows that surround you. You almost forgot beauty like this could exist.
Joel turns his head, following your gaze. A small smile tugs at the corners of his weathered lips as he agrees, "Looks like a good spot to take a break."
Guiding the horse toward the field, you both dismount and allow the horse to graze freely. Joel suddenly remembers he has a blanket tucked away in his saddlebag. He retrieves it and spreads it out in the clearing amidst the vibrant flowers.
Seated on the blanket, you unravel the satchel from over your shoulder and place it on the ground by your side while you simultaneously marvel at the beauty surrounding you. The sun plays hide-and-seek through the branches of nearby trees, creating dappled patterns on the ground. Joel settles beside you, gazing out at the open expanse.
As you bask in the splendor of the spring day, your attention fully absorbed by the vibrant beauty surrounding you, you inadvertently miss the subtle shift in Joel's focus. His gaze transitions from the scenic view to rest upon you. In a moment of silent admiration, he drinks in the essence of your being. His eyes trace the contours of your profile, lingering on the way the sunlight plays in your hair, transforming it into a golden halo that only seems to make his mouth water more.
He admires the view of you propped up on your elbows, eyes closed, heart center shining toward the sun, the swell of your breasts painted like a picture before him.
“Tell me your greatest desires,” he says.
As you open your eyes and turn to face him, as swift as the breeze you feel in your hair, you feel all of the air escape your lungs. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man. You’re momentarily lost in your own world as you admire the way he looks like this; relaxed, basking in the sun on a checkered blanket. His dark brown eyes are now a soft shade of amber, the silver streaks are a little more prominent in the sunlight, and the furrow of his brow has lessened.
“Alright. Tell me a secret” you respond, the corners of your lips threaten to turn up in a smile. You press up off your elbows and roll onto one on your side to face him.
“Isn’t that the same?” he asks, responding to your movement, mirroring it.
Now face-to-face, and chest-to-chest with him, inches only separating your bodies, you pause and let your eyes flint to his lips.
“Anyone can see your desires, no one knows what’s in your heart,” you say.
“Tell me something,” he says.
“I still dream of the taste of McDonald’s french fries,” you say, “and I’m not sure I know how to feel happiness anymore,” you say, as a matter a fact.
Your words reverb through his ears, and he stares at you in silence, unsure of how to respond.
“I used to be a contractor,” he admits, “and I had a daughter named Sarah.”
You look at him with soft, wide eyes. Pain is visible on your face, taking in what he’s yet to say. When you don’t respond, he adds, “She died in my arms on Outbreak day,” he admits, averting his gaze over your shoulder. His hands have somehow navigated to find a single blade of grass that he toys with in between his fingers.
“Fuck, Joel,” you pause in silence. Like your words could ever make up for his loss. Everyone had lost someone at this point, but the way he said it, you could tell it still felt fresh to him.
“It’s alright, Darlin’, next confession,” he says, obviously wanting to change the subject.
“Ellie,” you chuckle, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She’s such a pain in my ass, but she’s probably one of my best friends right now,” you say. Like it should be embarrassing, you, an adult woman, friends with a 14-year-old.
“Yeah. Little bugger has her way of working her way under your skin, doesn’t she?” he says, bringing his attention back to the panoramic scene laid out in front of you. You notice the smile that graces his face. “Your turn,” you say, this time paying all of your attention to his profile as he stares out to the horizon.
“I saw your drawings,” he admits, even though every fiber of his being is telling him not to. Your smile fades from your face and your heart sinks. You swear the sun must have navigated light years closer to Earth from the way you feel your skin heat, your blood hot enough to melt bone. You might as well turn to liquid there, melting into Mother Earth.
“Wh–what? What do you mean?” you ask, your voice mostly a tremble.
“In the barn, this morning… when you were asleep. Your notebook fell to the ground, and well – I saw them,” he decides to leave out the part where he intentionally decided to take a peek, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing the ethics of it.
You’re nearly one with the core of the Earth, her heat drawing all of the moisture from your mouth, your tongue dry, briefly incapable of forming a response, before your brain lands on the following.
“You mean – you saw – yo,” you start to say before he interrupts you.
“Yeah, I did,” he admits, once again, a soft tone of honesty behind his voice.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not happening. This is not happening.
Mortified, your whole body goes limp and the back of your head falls to the ground. You scrunch your eyes closed as tight as possible as if that might somehow wake you up from the nightmare that this scenario is. You bring your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and let yourself absorb all of the nasty and icky feelings of embarrassment that cross your brain.
When you open your eyes, you start “Joel, I can explai–” he cuts you off with the weight of his body pinning you in place, his lips pressed against yours in an intentional, yet gentle, kiss. It’s stationary at first like he’s just trying to get you to shut up, to save you from the danger that is your thoughts. With your eyes still wide open, you stare back and try to rationalize if this is really fucking happening right now.
You break the kiss for a moment and look up at him, “Joel, what are you doing?” you ask.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I haven’t overthought it like you’re about to,” he admits, staring back at you, “tell me you don’t want this,” he says, hoping you don’t. As if you could ever. When his question is met with no response, he takes that as a green light, and his soft lips once again find yours.
Your eyes flutter closed, and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your fingers interlacing behind his neck. He deepens the kiss with a moan and grinds his hips into yours, the heavy weight of his center pressing deep against yours ignites a firework display of nerves in your body. You can tell from the package that’s pressed up against you that he’s quite big. The strengthening of your touch is met with a soft mmm from his chest, as his heavy frame pins you tighter to the ground.
His lips stray from your lips, kissing over the razor edge of your jaw, finding their way to the nape of your neck. His hot breath and the weight of his strong and capable body make you feel weightless, despite the pressure he pushes on you.
He presses tender kisses to your pulse and trails them down to the hollow of your throat, causing your breathing to hitch in your throat. His wide tongue licks a long, flat stripe up your windpipe, and his teeth come together in a little nip on your chin. Fuck. You let out a little cry of unexpected pleasure at the sensation. He pins both of your arms high up above your head, and his mouth continues its relentless pursuit on the bare skin of your neck and exposed collarbones.
“Joel, please,” you beg, your vision foggy from the thrum of your blood pulsing through your veins at a rapid pace; your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.
“Gotta use your words for me, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he responds, a low growl to his words.
He’s barely managed to touch you, yet, you choke out, “Need you,” you moan, “need you to touch me more, god, please,” you beg, your arms still pinned above your head. Satisfied, he releases his grip on your arms, and both of his palms find purchase on your center frame, just below your ribs. He kisses his way down from your throat, through the valley of your breasts, and over your belly, trailing the ghost of his lips to the soft plush below your navel.
He hooks his thumbs under the band of your pants, and deftly pulls them off, alongside your underwear. He continues kissing down the gash between your thighs and pauses once his mouth is centered on your glistening slit. His tongue darts out to lap at some of your slick and you swear all of your senses cross at the sensation of his tongue.
Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good.
He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit.
You pull at your nipple through your shirt with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you.
His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and you’re so close. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are fucking primal and filthy.
“Shit, sweetheart,” he says, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me have it, soak my face.”
His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my God – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop," you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.
He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. As much as he would love to make you come multiple times under his tongue for hours, to savor your sweetness like it was the last strawberry on earth, he’s starving for it.
He makes quick work of undoing his belt and jeans, before sliding them off his legs to free himself. Gripping his heavy cock in his hand, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes just the tip in, wishing he were less riled up, less desperate for the warmth of your body, but he finds comfort in knowing you’re right at that line with him, begging to be filled.
“Need you,” you beg, your doe eyes looking up at him. He’s had many people beg for things from him – supplies, food, their life, but you, god, there’s something about you, split open and begging for his cock that he can’t say no to.
He smiles, and slides all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He buries his cock deep inside you, to the hilt, so deep you can feel the tickle of the dark hairs that outline the base of it against your clit. Your pussy is so wet and tight, and holy – “fuck me, baby,” he moans, thrusting his hips out of you just barely before shoving them forward; the stretch of him is a delicious slow burn.
“Choking my cock so fucking good, baby. So good,” he moans before he begins to set a slow rhythm with his movements, letting you both adjust to the sensation. He praises your name and his breath catches on your collarbone, and he sucks a small mark there as he fucks in and out of you. When you whine for more, more of this, and more of him, this time he’s the one who’s lost for words. He might not know what to say, but his body responds in kindness, his cock thrusting in and out of you with a slow drag that drives you wild. All he can do is admire the beauty that you are under him, an angel on earth making a sweet, sweet mess, all for him. Just for him.
“Mmm, God, Joel – ‘m gonna, fuck, Joel, – right there –” you cry up to the sky above you, the clouds in the sky witness to your pleasure. He knows his cock is enough to get you there, but it’s not enough, not to him. Putting all of his body weight into his left arm, being sure not to crush you, he drags his right hand out from under his weight and it lands to cup your pussy; already so wet and so full. His fingers extend and find a home on your clit, and he begins rubbing tight circles on your aching bud in a way that makes you swear it must be nighttime from the stars you’re seeing.
“Here, baby?” his fingers continue their relentless pursuit of your clit, and he bucks his hips harder. He’s rewarded with the glorious sound of your moans reaching an octave that makes his cock twitch a little harder inside of you, “Jesus, sweetheart – gonna make me come like a teenager if you keep clenching like that, gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, an animalistic sound emanating from his chest.
“Joel, I’m gonna come –”
“I can tell, baby – clenchin’ so hard around me, want you to give me your all,” he demands, as he grabs your hair and tells himself not to come with you, too soon.
“No,” you choke out, staving off your orgasm. He stops his thrusts for a brief second, “What?” he asks, a bit bewildered. At this point you’re both a tangled mess of limbs, sweat beading on your foreheads, chests heaving. You intertwine your hands through his hair and gently pull at it as you look him deep in the eyes, “I want to come,” you promise, “I just want to ride you while I do it,” you admit.
You pulse around his cock at the confession, and with your truth still lingering on your lips, Joel pulls out and flips around so he's on his back. He steadies himself by the base and holds his cock straight up for you. You rise and position yourself over his center; you line yourself up against him while he cups your cheek with the other hand, “take your seat, pretty girl,” he says in a tone that’s just shy of a beg, and you do, feeling yourself slowly sink onto every inch of him. Your action elicits a throaty groan from him. Your eyes once again glaze over at the sensation of him so deep inside of you, so big, so deep. The stretch of him shoves out every other thought you can muster until all that’s left are thoughts of him in your brain.
In an attempt to get a better angle, he shifts his upper body up onto his forearms, as you continue to grind your hips into him. Both of your arms wrap around his neck, and you use the strength of them to pull him closer into your chest as you continue to slowly grind your cunt into him. You swear you can feel him in your lungs, and with the way your clit grinds against his skin, you’re nearly there, nearly gone.
A weird combination of emotions pools in your belly, part pleasure, part something else. You feel it creeping up your throat, clawing up the back of it like it’s manifesting its reality before it manages to surface. Heat pricks in your tear ducts, and before you know it, it’s such a big, bold feeling – a lion in a cage that won’t be tamed. Simultaneously, you feel a familiar tug at your navel, like a rubber band, stretched to its capacity, on the verge of a snap.
The orgasm that tears through you is so epic it causes your head to fall back, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head, your vision going static white. Your lower body shudders against his thrusts, and your inner muscles clamp hard around his cock as he fucks you through it. You convulse around him, doing your best to ride his thrusts and contribute as your whole body trembles. With tears streaming down your face, you press your lips against him. He wraps both of his arms tight around your chest, pinning you close to his heart, meanwhile spearing you with his cock. His thrusts stop for a moment, and he looks up at you, both hands coming to grip the sides of your face.
“Why are you crying baby,” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.
“You’re just – so god damn beautiful, Joel,” you admit, and your sobs come a little harder. If this were pre-apocalypse, you might be mortified by the fact that you were sobbing for a man you hardly know, all while riding his cock, but it’s not. You rest your forehead against his and let the tears continue to fall, a handful of them dropping to his cheeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, and one of his hands leaves your face, trailing down to gently grab at your wrist in comfort. “No, baby. That’s you,” he says, slowly continuing to fuck into you with a slow grind.
“My perfect girl, I’ve got you, baby, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he says, as he holds you and fucks you with such passion and intentionality. He fucks all of the love you haven’t let yourself feel in decades back into you. His cock fills every gap that has been left unfilled by every wrongdoing, every terrible, bad thing. He holds you like it isn’t the end of the world, but rather the beginning. He fucks you like his cock alone could fix everything, and at this moment, you’re confident it just might.
Still riding him, a soft “please,” leaves your lips. “Please use me,” you say, sinking your pussy down further onto him, so tight you can feel the tip of him pushing down on your cervix. “Want your come, Joel – need it, need it so much,” you beg, and oh god, he’s so fucked.
Joel was already on the crest of his release a long time ago, but here you are – utterly fucked out, riding him, and begging for his come. He’s a smart man, he knows he shouldn’t, but – you tug at his hair harder, and ride him for all you’re worth. “Fuck me, baby,” he moans, alongside a long slew of your name and other profanities, he only has so much resolve left, a resolve that’s slowly crumbling with each drag of your wet cunt up and down his cock.
You press your lips to his once again and he feels his balls tighten. The litany of pleas and the taste of your salty tears is what undoes him. Buried deep inside of you, he comes harder than he has in decades, spilling hot and deep inside of you. He fills you up with all he’s worth, painting your insides with white hot ropes of his seed. Normally you’re the artist, but right now, you’re his canvas, his fucking Mona Lisa.
Joel grunts and you collectively still your movements. He holds you close as he waits for the aftershocks and twitches to still, still plugging you, keeping all of his spend deep inside of you. He plants soft kisses all over your face and neck and caresses your hair. You stay like this for what could be hours, minutes, days. Time is a construct you have no concept of right now.
After a few minutes, he groans. Pulling out is always the hardest thing to do. “Gonna get off you now,” you say softly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, as you lift your hips and swing your leg over his body. Your pussy whines at the lack of something to grip around. A rush of his come dribbles out of you onto your inner thigh, but you don’t pay any attention to it. You roll over onto your back, and he does the same. As you both lay there, he grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. You’re not sure what time it is now, but by the color of the sky, you guess it’s late afternoon at this point.
“We should get back,” you say, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds make their creations.
“Yeah,” he admits, only looking at you. When you avert your gaze from the sky to look at him, you get deja vu as you take in the sight of Joel Miller, his tossed curls and chocolate eyes, and you swear you’ve seen this sight before. Maybe in a dream.
You commit the sight to memory, promising yourself to draw it later.
“Will you sit for a portrait with me?” you ask, voice soft, once again turning to face him, but this time it’s different.
“Only if you promise to go for a ride with me again,” he admits, and you smile, a heat creeping up to your cheeks.
“Deal,” you promise.
You both lay there for what could be hours or minutes, you’re not sure. But as the sun looks like it’s about to dip below the horizon, you both decide it’s time to head back. You both get dressed, and he helps you onto the horse. You both leave your perfect little meadow, knowing that it will be there for you to discover again and again.
On the ride back, you reflect on a poem you remember reading years ago.
There are two kinds
of people in this world,
those who see the ending,
and those who see the beginning.
And after years of living in the ending, you’re ready to let the girl who you were before out of her prison. Joel undid the lock, all you had to do was let her see the light of day once more.
A new beginning.
You and Joel ride back in blissful silence.
Once on the outskirts of Jackson, Joel simply says, “Maybe we should invite Tommy next time.”
But that’s a different notebook.
END
Tags: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @meabhogr @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981
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#joel miller smut#joel miler x fem!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller tlou#the last of us#joel miller fanfic#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#katiexpunk answers#pedrohub#pedro pascal#pedrostories
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Listen we need more 👏older👏 virgin 👏larissa
Obviously it needs to be sub!Larissa 😆
Larissa and the reader have been together a long time but haven't slept together, leading to Larissa admitting she's inexperienced, super fluffy cute smut about reader showing Larissa all there is and Larissa having the best night of her life and feeling super loved 🫠
I love love love your writing and thought you'd make a perfect story ❤️
𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞
𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
Larissa Weems x f!reader
words: ~4.2k
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, nsfw, sub!Larissa, dom!Reader, virgin Larissa, oral sex, fingering, strap-on, praise kink, biting, marking, scratching, begging
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above
masterlist
AO3 link in title
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
a/n: I COMPLETELY AGREE. I AGREE SO HARD
sub!Larissa is so fucking cute to me for some reason and I'm glad I got a req to do it ehheheh. I like writing both, but it should be fun to finally be able to do the other perspective.
Thank you for trusting me with writing this! and for complimenting my writing <33 it means the world. i hope you enjoy, anon !
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
You laid on the couch in your private quarters, the flames roaring as the overcast sky settled itself for the weekend, the small pattering of the rain landing on the window was tuned out as you held a book in your hands and welcomed a familiar weight on your chest - your lover, Larissa Weems.
Retiring to your quarters for the day was something that had become a routine for the two of you after months of dating - it had become a shared sanctuary for the both of you, especially Larissa as it let her be completely away from her work at the end of the day, all her worries fading away whenever she stepped through the doorway.
She was mindlessly twirling a lock of your hair between her fingers, taking in your scent with each breath as her cheek rested against your chest, watching her favorite show as you enjoyed each others company. Your free hand was tracing along her back, providing her comfort and making her subconsciously aware that you weren't leaving her side.
In the months that you had been dating, you had let Larissa set the pace of where this wanted to go. Being a professor and a principal at the same school definately had its ups and downs, but you made it work, regardless. Communication was the biggest thing in your relationship, making sure that any miscommunications or misunderstandings were made clear in a gentle tone, not wanting to upset the other and both knowing better than working on negative emotions.
You always tried to give her all the love that she deserved, all the love that she, sadly, never got from others. It pained you to think about the things that the precious woman right under your touch had been through, the days of heartbreak, the nights being unable to sleep, the countless amount of restless hours she had gone through without someone by her side to make her feel safe.
You vowed, since the moment you met her, you would always make her feel safe and comfortable in your company.
A large sigh had come from the peaceful beauty, breaking you from your focus on the book as a commercial played on the screen. Her hand had moved from your hair to trail under your shirt, tracing her fingertips along your stomach, her eyes looking down at your smooth skin.
You took a moment to look at her form. She wore an oversized sweater you owned, saying something along the lines of how your clothes were more comfortable, but you knew how much she loved to wear your things, so you let her. Her legs were bent with your own as a blanket covered the both of you slightly. She seemed so comfortable and so at ease, it melted your heart.
You put a bookmark along your pages and set the book gently on the side table behind you. You moved your hands to rub Larissa's shoulders, getting rid of any tension she still held there before kissing the top of her head and moving to gently pull all the pins from her hair. You set them all on top of your book and massaged her scalp, eliciting a rumbling hum from your lover.
"You know I'm the luckiest woman in the world, right?" You said softly, not wanting to break her gaze from her favorite show. However, she shuffled to look up at you, her chin resting on your chest, with a dreamy look in her eyes. A curious smile rose to her lips as she chuckled.
"And what makes you say that, my love?" You heart rate rose as a blush flooded your cheeks, you were sure she could feel it pounding in your chest underneath her touch from her actions. The sight in front of you was one you wanted to commit to memory. The way the flames casted an orange glow on her features and how her hair was sprawled out beneath her, long enough to fall down her sides and over the expanse of her back - it was as though there was a goddess living among you, especially with the spark in her eyes.
"Because…" You started to sit up a bit, moving to the side to flip her underneath you, your hands landing at her sides to hold you above her after guiding hers to rest at your shoulders. "I just so happen to be the lover of the smartest, most patient, elegant, regal, alluring- gods, I could go on.. The point is that I'm so lucky to have you.."
In between each compliment, you kissed a different part of her face, ending with a soft kiss on her lips as you finished your small ramble. When you broke away, she had the biggest smile on her face, meeting her eyes and casting a deep blush along her features. Your words had hit her heart, engulfing it in a warm hold.
"I love you.." There was nothing but sincerity behind her words, her thumb stroking along your cheek softly as she said as much. You kissed the pad of her finger before leaning down again.
"And I love you, sweet girl.." Your lips captured hers in a passionate kiss, coursing electricity through the both of you as your tongue swiped along her bottom lip. She smiled as she denied your access, a tease she loved to do from time to time, but you knew her weak spots.
You drew your hands under her sweater, your cold palms meeting the warm skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake as she shivered. You scratched down her sides, pulling a moan from the woman underneath you and creating an opportunity to explore her wet cavern.
You took your time exploring her mouth, your tongues moving in tandem before you pulled away, biting her bottom lip gently. You both paused for a moment, taking in each others forms and soaking in just how much you loved each other. Just as you were about to bring your lips back to hers, she spoke.
"Darling.." Her tone was soft and just above a whisper as she spoke. A worried expression filled your features as you thought of what she could be dwelling on so intensely.
"Is something wrong, love?" You asked, concern lacing your tone as you began to sit up only to be pulled back down by strong arms. The action made you laugh, a smile replacing your concerned notes as you looked back down at the sapphire goddess.
"Nothing's wrong.. I just- I wanted to.." It seemed like she couldn't bring herself to say whatever was on her mind, breaking eye contact with you to flutter her eyes all around the room - it only made you more curious as your smile grew at her actions. You grabbed her chin softly, moving it so her gaze was locked back onto yours, before speaking.
"What is it you want, sweet one? I can only help so much if I don't know the details, hmm?" Your tone was caring and curious, a blush filled her features at the forced eye contact, exposing just how much it flustered her.
"I.. Could we try- Can we-" A defeated and near frustrated sigh left her lips as she shut her eyes. She took in a breath in attempt to ground herself, before facing you again. "I want to sleep with you, y/n.."
You laughed at that. You had never seen her so flustered and so all over the place, it was something you would cherish as she felt safe enough to even bring the topic up. You always wondered when you would get to this point, not dwelling on if it would take months or years, you just wanted her to feel solid enough in her desires and wants before you dove in that direction.
You moved to sit up, successfully this time, as you pulled her up with you. You flashed a reassuring smile back at her as you rubbed her arms, tracing your hands up to cup her face. "You want to have sex with me?"
The question that left your lips only seemed to make her fluster more, the blush darkening as a quiet response was thrown your way.
"Yes.." She was adorable. You couldn't get over the bashful version of the woman before you, it was a sight you haven't seen often, so you tried to remember every feature and every emotion that crossed her before it faded away.
You moved your hands down to hers, holding them in a gentle grip. "This is something you want?" There was a glimmer of insecurity in your tone, there for mere seconds, before it disappeared. You were answered with a nod, something that caused you to throw a knowing look her.
"I need words, my love.." Your tone was soft, visibly settling her nerves as her shoulders relaxed and she let out a sigh. She looked deep into your eyes before speaking, only being met back with love and safety.
"Yes, I want this.. I really want this with you.. I've, however.. ..I-I've never done this before.." The admission shocked you, something she saw turn into confusion. You didn't understand how someone like her, someone so beautiful, so graceful, so intelligent, didn't have paramores or anyone before you that had good intentions other than this.
"And that's perfectly fine, Larissa.." Your reaction surprised her, as though she was waiting from the worst from you. It saddened you at the possibility of her being met with anything but understanding, knowing that she was probably picking at her own mind and every insecurity she had before becoming confident enough in the bond you both shared before bringing it up.
"We won't do anything you don't want or don't like, okay? If you end up not liking something or want me to stop then I want you to tell me. I want you to feel exactly how much I love you, and I plan on translating as much into every action I give you.."
A big sigh escaped her as she completely relaxed, her shoulders dropping and her jaw unclenching as she squeezed your hands softly, a small smile making itself known at her lips. "I'll tell you.."
"Good. Now, come here.." You stood up and guided her to the bed you shared in a gentle hold, the cool air of the room causing goosebumps to rise along both of your arms as the blanket no longer covered your bodies, but you ignored it as care ran through your veins and excitement ran through hers.
You guided her onto your lap, something you both loved, before pulling her arms to completely rest at your shoulders, pulling her near flush against you as you held her waist securely. You searched her eyes for any uncertainty only to find none, her eyes looking down at your lips just moments after. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and it felt as though your breathing had stopped at the small action alone.
You brought a hand behind her neck and pulled her in gently, crashing your lips into hers. You could tell with how her lips moved along with yours that she had wanted this for quite some time, meeting you with desperation and a moan as you took the opportunity to bring your tongue to hers.
Your hands moved along her smooth skin agonizingly slow for the blonde, exploring every dip and giving her thighs a firm squeeze before beginning to move them up her shirt, higher higher higher until you completely took the garment off of her.
You couldn't take your eyes off her as you took in her form, your eyes raking over the complete expanse of her exposed skin that was finally making itself known to you. Your hands moved up her body and traced along the underside of her bra with your thumbs, your eyes fluttering shut with desire at the small whimper that left her lips.
Your eyes met hers, she had her bottom lip between her teeth as her chest heaved slightly, a blush apparent on her cheeks matched with pupils blown with her desire for you. You took a moment to reach down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it off you completely in one swift movement so she wouldn't feel any insecurity at being the only one showing more skin.
You brought a hand to her neck, your fingers guiding themselves up under her chin and pulling her face closer only to move it, missing her lips, to speak softly in her ear. "Is this still okay, my love?"
Your hot breath ghosted over her neck, a shiver running a course down her spine as her eyes fluttered shut for a quick moment. You felt her nod slightly, causing you to move back and raise your eyebrow, your fingertips moving to hold her chin ever so slightly. The action made her swallow hard, her breath hitching as you made her look at you again.
"Y-Yes, sorry.." A small smirk lifted your lips, shooting her a proud look at her quick memory. You leaned in quickly, stopping just in front of her lips to watch her lean in, only for you to move back as she chased you. She noticed this, and her eyes fluttered back open, being met with your lips just a hair away from hers.
"Good girl.." You said before slamming your lips into hers, swallowing the whimper she had let out at the praise. She kissed you back with a newfound ferocity, her hands quickly traveling over your shoulders and torso. She had quickened up everything about her actions and you held in a chuckle after you had noticed that. You pulled away slightly, causing her actions to stop as she looked back at you.
"Slow down, Larissa.. I'm not going anywhere.." Your words seemed to heavily settle her, and you couldn't help but notice that. You shifted, moving her to rest against the pillowy mattress as her white locks of hair sprawled out and curled along the thick blankets and pillows of your bed. You gave her the softest of kisses while doing so, putting more reassurance in your words. "Let me love you.."
You had whispered those words against her lips, and you heard her suck in a breath. You moved your lips in a trail down her jawline, moving down her neck and meeting her pulse point. You bit down on the skin softly before smoothing your tongue over the area and sucking.
The sensation that rippled through her sent a heat to her core, her hand tangling itself in your hair as she moved her head to the side to give you more access. You left a few more marks of different sizes before pulling away slightly and looking at your work, a slightly sinister smile gracing your features, knowing it would take her a little bit to cover them up.
Your lips traveled down and trailed kisses along her chest, smoothing out your tongue and biting the exposed parts of her breasts. A moan left her as you moved your hands under her bra and smoothed your thumbs against her nipples, her nails digging into your shoulder slightly. "Y/n.. please.."
Oh..
That was something you never heard before..
But you'd be lying if you said you didn't want, didn't need to hear her beautiful moans escape her throat, your name fall from her lips over and over again..
One of your hands snaked around her torso, unclasping her bra from around her and pulling it down her shoulders and arms. You threw it to the side and were met with a mouthwatering sight beneath you, and you couldn't help but moan as you worried your bottom lip. Her features were flushed and we pupils were as dilated as they could be, her chest rose and fell quickly with her breaths and her hands rested on either side of her head.
This was definately something you could quickly find addicting..
"I want you, y/n.."
That sentence alone was enough to break any of your remaining resolve, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss before trailing down her body again. You left dark marks all along her chest before rolling your tongue over her right bud, capturing it with your lips shortly after as your hand toyed with the other.
A broken moan left her lips as her back arched a bit, pushing more of herself to you. You moved to the other bud, needing to give it the same amount of attention, as you pulled delicious moans from the goddess beneath you.
You trailed your lips down the rest of her body, getting rid of every article of clothing that still stood in your way as you kissed and bit down her thighs, getting rid of the rest of your own quickly after. You loved how much she was squirming under your touch, every trace, every pinch, every squeeze making her increasingly needier.
You looked over her completely, your breath lost in your chest as you took in how absolutely drenched she had become.
"You are every dream come true.. My needy girl," You traced two fingers through her slit, her hips bucking at the contact and a near pornographic moan leaving her lips as you circled her clit before pulling your hand away completely.
"So wet for me already.." You brought the hand up to your lips while you spoke, taking them in your mouth when you finished. You groaned at the taste of her and decided that you needed more. "Absolutely delicious.."
You kissed back down her other leg, the smell of her arousal increasing as you continued to tease her. You hooked your arms around her thighs, keeping her squirming down a bit, before kissing along her slit.
"Please, please, y/n I-" She was cut off by an unadulterated moan rushing out of her, the feeling of your tongue licking through her folds giving her the pleasure she had been craving. You dipped your tongue as far into her entrance as you could, taking as much of her juices as you could, moaning again at the taste of her.
The vibrations had sent a wave of pleasure through her, her core growing increasingly sensitive as her breaths got quicker and her moans became unfiltered. You brought your tongue up to circle her clit, sucking on the sensitive bud right after. One of her hands tangled itself into your hair, pulling you closer to where she needed you, while the other fisted the sheets beneath her, her back arching at the intense waves of pleasure you were giving her.
"More, I- F-Fuck! Please-" You brought a finger to her entrance, easily pushing into her soaked cunt. After giving her time to adjust, you added another, feeling her thighs squirm on either side of your head and threatening to close around it as she clenched around your fingers, pulling a moan from you. "You're doing so good for me.."
You started moving them at a nice speed as her hips bucked for more friction. The moans you were pulling from her were sinful, and lustful pride filled your chest knowing you were able to have her come undone so deliciously.
You increased your ministrations, curling your fingers in such a way that had her seeing stars as her moans got louder. You could tell she was close as her grip increased and her core tightened. You curled your fingers and sucked on her sensitive bud at the same time, pulling a loud cry from the woman before she shuddered beneath you, her juices flowing out and you took everything she gave you as you helped her ride out her high.
You kissed back up her body, your hands smoothing over her skin as you moved. She pulled you by your shoulders and crashed her lips against you, swiping her tongue along your bottom lip. She moaned at the taste of herself on your lips and against your tongue.
You broke away after a moment, taking in her flushed form, seeing lust still swirling in her eyes. She'd be the death of you as she'd already become an addiction you wouldn't dare get rid of.
"Do you think you could do one more for me, darling?" You whispered against her lips, and she pulled you closer to her. She licked her lips softly as she stared at yours with half lidded eyes.
"Yes, please.. I want more.. I wanna cum for you again, please.." The desperation and want in her tone had made your eyes flutter shut as your eyes rolled back. You were sure her pleas alone would be able to get you off, but you didn't want to be finished with her just yet.
You took a box from your bedside table and opened it, revealing a strap on that would make you feel everything as well, and it was something she seemed to notice as her eyes widened, only to fill with need. It was something that you had saved for this moment, and your mouth watered at the idea of slipping into her.
"You are so easily addicting.." You said after you finished putting it on. She bit her bottom lip and you couldn't help but stare. You really couldn't understand how someone could be this beautiful, but a smile rose to your lips as you took in just how much of a mess you'd made her so far.
"It's going to sting a bit, love.. When you're ready, tell me when to move, hmm?"
After receiving a needy 'yes' from her lips, you ran it along her slit, before slowly pushing into her. Your body shuddered, and a low moan left your chest at the feeling of filling her up. Her nails dug into your back and shoulders at the stretch, whines being pulled from the woman before she took you completely. She gave you the sign to move, and you started off at a slow pace, helping her get used to it.
Moans and whimpers started to leave her lips again as her head fell back in pleasure. You left kisses along her skin as you moved, your own moans ghosting along its canvas. "So good for me, Rissa.. You're taking me so well, my good girl.."
Her moans left her at every thrust, her walls fluttering around the strap, nearly making you topple over in the pleasure you got from not only being inside her and feeling it but also the sight of her beneath you as her rushed, needy pleas flowed out of her lips.
"Please, please, y/n- oh! F-Fuck, I-I'm close, please! Fuc-Fuck!" Her moans grew higher in pitch as your thrusts quickened, her nails digging into your skin as you were sure there would be marks left there for a while, not that you were complaining. You felt your own high starting to build, her walls fluttering around you, making the chase for it absolutely divine.
"Cum for me, Riss.." With your voice raspy and low, it was as though your voice alone was what was able to send her over the edge, her back arching and her eyes squeezing shut as you followed right behind her, each others names leaving your lips as you both came.
With heavy breaths, you helped her ride out her high before pulling out of her slowly, still causing a whimper to leave her throat at the empty feeling. You took the strap off and threw it to the side to be an issue for later, before taking a rag out of the same drawer it came form to clean up your love as she laid back in her blissed-out state.
You moved to lay beside her, pulling a blanket over the two of you before capturing her in your arms. She dove into your embrace, your warmth and safety something she sought out as she came back to reality. You pressed kisses along her hairline as you traced your fingertips along her back. "You did so well for me, so so good for me, Larissa.. How are you feeling, my love?"
She pressed a kiss against your neck before moving her head to face you. She smiled as she met your gaze, seeing nothing but love in your eyes. You cupped her cheek, softly moving your thumb against it before planting a kiss to her forehead. "That was amazing.."
You couldn't help but laugh as the words left her. You took her in after all that just happened between you two, and it was crazy how you thought you still fell for her more than you already had.
The rain raced down the glass of your windows as it kept falling from the clouds above, but the fire that was once dancing along the logs of the fireplace was a dormant ember, casting red etches along the wood it sat on. You relaxed into each others embrace, settling there for the rest of the night as exhaustion held you both in its increasing grip, the comfort and safety you had for each other making it an easy choice as you fell asleep under the thick covers together, knowing you wouldn't be leaving each others side.
~~
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
𝐚/𝐧: THIS WAS SO FUCKING FUN TO WRITE HELLO??
We can tell by the word count but HOOLLLLLYYY
This is where I want to be when it comes to writing stuff like this. It was so fulfilling seeing not only the word count but also the amount of detail I was able to put into it this time.
Anon, thank you SO much for the ask. I don't think we have a lot of sub!Larissa out there, so being someone to add to the fuel is fun even if I get both sides of writing for her.
I have some other asks but since the weekend is right here that means series time !! if all goes well, the next chapter will be out by the end of the weekend hehehhe. I'm excited for it lol
if you want to be added to my taglist for all my works you can DM me or comment on the post. Look at this post to see if you might have issues being tagged
I hope I wrote this to justice, anon ;)
~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)
@eveymay @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @s-c-rambledegggs @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1
✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧
#larissa weems#larissa weems x reader#principal larissa weems#principal weems#larissa x reader#principal weems x reader#principal larissa weems x reader#larissa weems smut#sub!Larissa Weems#sub!Larissa#principal larissa weems smut#wlw smut#fanfic#fanfiction#anon#anon ask#req#anon answered#anonymous asks#ask#inbox#smut#larissa weems oneshot#larissa weems x you#larissa weems x y/n#crowravencrow
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Can I request a Dallas Liu's Zuko angst? The reader tries helping Zuko, and his anger gets the best of him, causing the reader to run away. He chases after her after realizing his mistake. Fluff at the end, please and thank you!
𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 | dallas liu!zuko x fem!reader
Requests Masterlist
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Zuko is trying to train. His aim is off, so his girlfriend tries to give him unwanted advice.
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | angst, pre-established relationship, zuko accidentally burns her, pet names (baby, love), fluff at the end.
I wrote this yesterday and it didn’t save. Anyways I have no motivation and I just got broken up with so mb on slow updates
Zuko was a man who was never too good at controlling his anger. He took it out on most people around him, yet he did his very best not to take it out on his girlfriend. She was the only person who he believed was truly just there to love him.
On a particularly hard day after Aang got away once again, Zuko was training on the ship. He was struggling with his aim which was rare. He had been going for hours and hours. He looked exhausted. Y/N walked over to him.
Her hand lightly touched his arm. He gave a grunt of acknowledgment. She sighed from the lack of recognition, but she still took it.
“Zuko, love, take a break,” she whispered. His bicep flexed under her hand, showing his annoyance. “Just for a minute. If you’re just angry then you wont be able to get it.”
Zuko glared at her and took in a sharp inhale as he tried to calm himself down for a second. He showed no interest whatsoever in stopping. Her hand slid down his arm to touch his hand.
“Five minutes, Zuko. It’ll hel-”
“Stop it. I don’t need your help! You’re not a fire bender, so what do you know?” Zuko growled as he yawned his arm away from her. Y/N winced and stumbled backwards, looking down at her wrist. “Just… go and sip tea with my uncle or something.”
Y/N stayed silent and then nodded, walking away quickly. She was holding onto her wrist. She did indeed go and drink tea with Zukos uncle. He was a good man. Zuko was out on the deck of the ship for a few more hours. His mind was filled with thoughts of Y/N at this point though.
He took a seat on the side of the ship where there was a small spot to sit. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Zuko thought back to the way he talked to Y/N earlier and he dropped his head into his hands. Total guilt.
Zuko thought back to what had been said. He thought of the quiet insults that he had muttered afterwards. Then he thought of the pained look on her face. He had no clue what had happened to make her look that way.
A few short moments later, Zuko left his seat and walked over to where he knew that she would likely be. He knocked lightly on the door before going in. It only took a few seconds for his eyes to land on her. She was sitting on a small couch, her knees pulled up to her chest and a book rested in her hands.
“Y/N?” Zuko said her name cautiously as he walked over to her. She glanced up and gave him a small smile. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier.” His voice was quieter than normal.
“Hm? Oh, no. I understand. Its fine.”
“Come on, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he kneeled in front of her and took the book from her hands. Zuko set it aside and then held onto her hands. She pulled her hands away. Zuko frowned. “I didn’t mean to yell. I was just frustrated.”
“I know, Zuko. Its fine,” she said again and gave him another smile. He could see that she was partially lying and it pained him. His hand moved slightly and pushed up her sleeve. After she had left Zuko alone, she had put on a sweater. He looked at her wrist, then up at her.
“Did I do that, baby?” Zuko asked, mortified at the burn mark that spread from the start of her wrist to the middle of her forearm. She pulled her arm away.
“Yeah. Its nothing though. I’m fine. Stop asking.” She yanked her hand away, unhappy with his pestering. He nodded.
“Come on. Please?” he begged for her forgiveness. Y/N sighed and then reached out with her non burnt hand and then touched his cheek. She gave him a smile. A bigger smile than before. “Is that a yes, love?”
“Of course. Its not like I can stay mad at you,” she gave him a kiss on the forehead. He nodded and then stood up. He put out his hand for her, she took it. Zuko brought her to his quarters where he did his best to bandage her wound. He was no medic. “You know its not that big of a deal, right?” Y/N asked as she looked at him. He was standing between her legs as she was sitting on his bed. He was very focused.
“I feel bad,” he muttered. He brought her newly bandages wrist to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the middle. She laughed.
The next day, Zuko was back doing his practices with his aim. Y/N was sitting at the side, silently watching him. When she noticed that his anger was getting to him again, she stood up and walked to him.
“Calm down, love. Come on, sit with me for a minute?” Y/N asked, lightly touching his arm again. His fingers flexed, but this time he nodded and lowered his hands. They sat together, her head resting on his shoulder. Next time he tried, he got it down.
#zuko#prince zuko#atla zuko#fire lord zuko#zuko x reader#avatar zuko#zuko imagine#zuko angst#zuko fluff#atla#avatar the last airbender
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Hey, hope its ok that I'll send a request in. I'm at the moment such a simp for started valleys Sam, if you feel comfortable with it I would love some nsfw stuff. Maybe Sam and female/gender neutral reader playing some video's and everytime someone loses they have to take one piece of clothes of and at some point it just gets spicy 🌶
Rainbow Road
Sam x F!Reader
Warnings: hand jobs, blow jobs, dirty thoughts, the use of pretty boy and good boy
~~~
It felt great to be able to hang out with friends instead of being in the blistering heat. This summer's weather is probably the hottest it's been since you moved here. So the thought of being in an air-conditioned house with your friends and crush was terrific.
Everyone had been busy the entire week, so this was the first time everyone got to hang out. You agreed to meet at Sam’s house at noon when you were done with your farm chores. You wouldn’t admit it, but you took a quick shower and booked it to Sam’s house as soon as you were done. You were early, sure, but that meant you got to spend alone time with your crush. You even put on clothes that you thought made you look more appealing yet not over/underdressed for a simple gaming day with friends. You knocked on his door and waited.
“Well, aren’t you early?” Was the first words out of his mouth when you showed up earlier than everyone else. About an hour early even. Although, Sam would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy that you showed up earlier than everyone else. Being alone for the next hour in his room? It was like straight out of his dreams. Of course, in those dreams, you weren’t wearing clothes.
“I figured I might as well practice so I don’t lose to Abby in CoD again.” Sam let you in, smiling in your direction before closing the door behind you. You removed your shoes before following him to his room without a word.
“Wow, your room is clean. Did you have a girl come over that you wanted to impress?” You laugh and elbow him gently. A small part of your hoped it was because you were coming over, but in reality, it was probably easier to hang out with everyone that way.
“What?! Pfft, no!” Sam’s face went red as he tried to look everywhere but at you.
“Oh my gosh, you did! I can see it in your eyes! Your face is totally giving you away!”
“Maybe I wanted to clean my room for once!”
“Uh-huh, sure.” You laughed at him before flopping down on his bed. It just looked so comfortable, and your body was so sore from going all over the farm, grabbing crops, and feeding the animals.
The way your body laid across his bed made his heart beat in his ears. Pictures started forming in his mind on how you’d look if you lay beneath him with lustful eyes. Your hands would slither under his shirt, and your soft touch would have him shivering. Of how you could unbutton his jeans and slowly move towards the base of his cock, your fingers lightly touching it, making his hips buck just to feel more.
“Sam, you okay? You're staring at the wall.” Your voice brought him back to earth as you looked at him. The slight concern on your face had his heart fluttering.
“Sorry, I zoned out. Uh, do you wanna play a game while we wait?”
“Sure, I can kick your ass for a confidence boost against Abby.”
“Oh, is that so?” Getting up from his bed, he saw you walk up with a wide grin.
“It is, and just to prove how confident I really am, I’ll take off a piece of clothing in shame for every time I lose. But if you lose, you must remove a piece of clothing.” Your heart was beating rapidly as you tried to shoot your shot. It wasn’t a standard way people did it, but you never know if you don’t try. The worst he could do is say no.
“Guess you're gonna be naked when Abby and Seb appear 'cause I'm going to win.” With red cheeks and a glint in his eyes, Sam turned on his tv and started up the new switch he had saved up for.
“I say Mario Kart. My house, my choice.” Sam smirked as he sat in front of the TV before tossing you your own controller. You caught it and then sat next to him. A little closer than a friend would. You could feel his body heat and hear a gulp from the man beside you before he turned on the game. However, Sam didn’t know that you were a god at Mario Kart. You never played with any of them, but it was your favorite game to play when you were alone. Knowing that this would be a piece of cake. You wanted to take him by surprise, so you’ll let him win the first one to get his ego boosted before you crush it.
—
“Haha! How’s it feel to lose farmer?” Sam’s smug voice seemed to bounce off the walls as you rolled your eyes.
“Great, I was hot anyways.” Putting down your controller, you grab the helm of your shirt. Listing your arms up, you pull off the fabric before putting it next to you. Usually, it would have been fine since you’d wear a bra, but today was just so hot…so you didn’t.
“What, never seen tits before, Sam?” Your teasing went straight to his cock as he saw your exposed breasts. God, he wishes he could just hold them in his hands and kiss them. Suck on your exposed nipple, leaving them covered in saliva as he ate up your moans. The sounds you’d make echoed in his head as he felt his cock aching. He imagined how soft they’d be if they surrounded his cock.
“Press play Sam. I don’t want to be the only shirtless one here.” Your voice broke his fantasy, and he pressed play. He focused hard as he tried to ignore the question if you wore panties under your shorts since you didn’t wear a bra. The thought had him biting his lip.
“Better pay attention, Sam, you're in 12th.” Letting out a curse, he desperately tried to fix his place, but it was too late. He could feel your smug grin as you looked at him. His cheeks felt like fire as he took off his jacket. The AC making him shiver.
“Can’t wait to win.” Your mischievous smile had his mind racing.
—
“Rainbow Road Sam, better hope you win. Your boxers can’t save you now.” You only took off your shirt, as here he was, almost naked. He wished he knew that you were perfect at the game. You kicked his ass and didn’t even blink, it seemed like. You definitely let him win the first one, which crushed his ego. Not that he’ll admit it.
“Quit falling off, Sam. It’s almost like you WANT to lose.” He’s never been more focused on anything in his entire life than right now. He couldn’t lose! You’d see just how much you turned him on. He’s tried hiding it ever since he lost his pants, but nothing he did helped it down. Maybe the idea of being so exposed in front of you turned him on more? Having you see what you do to him. How his cock aches at the thought of your running your pretty hand up and down his cock. The way your eyes would look at him with lust as you’d move faster with every moan that escaped his lips. He struggled against the urge to buck his hips up against your imaginary hand. He could feel his heart thump in his chest when he heard the winner of the race.
“Peach wins!” He saw you throw your hands up and shout in victory.
“Princess Peach, I knew you wouldn’t let me down!” You turn your head towards him with a look as you stare him up and down.
“You know what that means, Sam.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he grabbed his boxers before slipping them off completely. He turned his face away in embarrassment as his hard cock stood proudly in front of you.
“Well, since I won, I believe I get to tell you what to do, hmm? I mean, it’s only fair.” Sam’s eyes couldn’t meet yours as his toes curled at the implication.
“Right, Sam?” He could feel your tits pressed against his back as you spoke softly into his ear. He didn’t even hear you move.
“Okay…” He didn’t need to look at you to know you were smiling. He let out a gasp when your lips started kissing his neck. Soft ones before you’d nibble on the sensitive spots that had him slip out little moans. Your fingers moved up his back before moving to rub his chest. It felt too ghostly at the lingering touches.
“Why don’t you be a good boy for me and start pumping your begging cock? I wanna see my pretty boy in bliss.” Yes, he’ll be your good boy. He wants to be your pretty boy.
Grabbing his cock, already leaking with pre, he slowly moved his hand up and down, imagining it was yours. The feeling of you sucking on his neck had him moving faster. He bit his lip as he saw your hair in his peripheral vision.
You could feel the heat grow between your legs as you watched him pick up his pace. Licking your lips, you move your hands around his chest. Running over his nipples and slightly tugging on them, making him let out a gasp before you moved your hands farther down. Teasingly slow, you moved your hand near the base of his cock. A louder gasp could be heard.
“You want help pretty boy?” A wicked grin plastered your face when he nodded gently. That wasn’t good enough, though. You wanted words.
“Come on, use your words.” Letting out a whine and shutting his eyes, you caught a breathy yes. Knowing it was the best you were gonna get, you started your endeavors.
You replaced his hand with yours, and a moan fell from his lips. Such a cute one that you wanted more. Picking up the pace quickly, your hand glided up and down his cock, leaving him to buck up his hips. Quiet moans and whines escaped his mouth as his toes curled when you started to whisper praises in his ear.
God, your hand felt so much better than he ever thought it would. The way you ran your finger ran over his slit had him shaking. If your hand felt this good, how would your mouth or even cunt feel like? The thought had his stomach tightened as the urge to cum started approaching quickly. His moans got louder as his legs started shaking.
“Aw, pretty boy about to cum? Do you deserve to?”
“Yes! Please! I’ll do anything!”
“Anything?” the way your voice seemed so sinister, but he didn’t care. He just needed to cum.
“Anything! Please!”
“Okay. Only cause you’ve been such a good boy for me.” Such words had him let out a loud moan as his cum shot from his cock, covering your hand and his tummy. You grab your phone quickly from your back pocket before snapping a picture of his blissed-out face. All red and too cute to not take a picture. Plus, when you were alone, it’d be the perfect material.
“What a good boy.” Kissing his cheek, you moved from behind to in front of him. You placed yourself in between his legs and looked up at him with lustful eyes. A good boy deserves a treat, right?
Sam saw you lowering your head before giving his tip a small kitten lick, having him whine at the new sensation. Your warm tongue against his overstimulated cock had his body shaking.
Biting his lips, he laid back when he felt you place your lips around the tip of his cock. The feeling was something he’d never forget as he swore it felt like he was in heaven. His crush sucking on his cock was a dream come true.
Such a sensitive boy. The look of his legs shaking and him digging his fingers onto the hardwood floor made you want to see how he’d react if you took him all.
A loud moan escaped Sam’s lips as his whole cock was enveloped in your mouth. The warm heat of your mouth almost had him cumming instantly. The way your tongue ran against the underside of his cock had him try to reach down to grab your hair, only to be slapped away, and you gave him a dirty look. Not wanting it to end, He just tried to hold onto the wooden floor to stabilize himself.
His reactions were so cute, the way whines and moans spewed from his lips as he tried bucking his hips into your mouth, only for you to slam them back down. He let out a whimper before biting his lip. He’s been such a naughty boy. Naughty boys don’t get treats.
KNOCK KNOCK
The sound of his front door knocking had you taking out his cock from your mouth with a smile. Sam let out a loud whine at the loss of warmth.
“Please, please, please don’t stop, so close…” His cries made the heat in between your legs grow hotter.
“Our friends are here. It would be rude to keep them waiting.” You sat up and grabbed your shirt before leaning over Sam’s body, the feeling of his cock pressing against your clothed tummy.
“Now, better dress up. Wouldn’t want our friends to see how much of a slut you are.” The way you talked to him had his eyes rolling before he let out a loud moan, and he felt a huge relief wash over him as he cummed so hard that he felt like he had lost his breath.
“You got it all over my shirt! Your lucky our friends are here to save you, but I won’t be forgiving next time.” You stood up and tried your best to wipe off your cum stained short before leaving Sam lying on his bedroom floor, trying to regain his breath and put on his discarded clothes. With your words still echoing in his head.
“Next time.”
#stardew valley#stardew valley x reader#sdv#stardew valley sam#stardew valley sam x reader#sdv smut#stardew valley smut
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one bed | (botw) link x reader
synopsis | you and link stop by an inn to rest, but there’s one small problem
word count | 1.3k
note | thought about it too hard so i wrote a fic about it (based on this little comic! pls look at it it’s so cute)
As the moon rose, the world beyond your hotel window fell into a peaceful slumber. The faint sound of crickets could be heard singing their calming melody. The peaceful night ambiance would’ve been enough to put you to sleep had it not been for your frantic beating heart.
In front of you lies your traveling companion, Link, whose back was practically against the wall, arms wrapped around himself as if afraid to accidentally touch you.
The silence in the room was deafening, neither of you knew what to say in this situation. After sleeping on the hard ground for weeks the two of you had agreed to spend the night at The Great Ton Pu Inn. The rain that quickly followed your decision only fueled your excitement for a comfy bed as the two of you rushed up the hill leading to Hateno Village. What neither of you expected was for every room to be booked, every room but one with a single bed.
Despite both of you being tired from traveling, neither of you could fall asleep because of the awkward tension that hung in the air. Ignoring it was proving to be impossible, someone had to say something, but you were hesitant to break the silence for fear of making things awkward (as if they weren’t already). You had been traveling with Link for weeks, months even! The two of you have shared several nights close together under the comfort of the stars, what makes now so different?
Maybe it was the smirk the front desk lady had given you both after handing you your key, maybe it was because despite how much you prayed for a room with two beds to miraculously become available you were secretly happy to share a bed with the Hylian boy, or maybe it was because despite you looking everywhere but him you could feel his eyes on you.
Just say something, anything!
You clear your throat, shuffling nervously under the blanket. “Um.. Rupee for your thoughts?” You asked in a hushed voice, an awkward smile making its way onto your face.
Link blinked rapidly in response, likely surprised by your sudden question. He continued to stare at you in silence, now tense as his cheeks turned a bright red.
Thinking you made him uncomfortable you quickly rise out of the bed. “Sorry! You know what maybe I should just sleep on the couch—”
Before you had the chance to remove the blanket from your body Link quickly sat up in bed and reached out to grab your wrist, shaking his head furiously. You stop when he does, slightly surprised to see how fast he had reacted when he looked so tired earlier. Your eyes fall on his hand which, despite the quick reaction, holds your wrist just tight enough to keep you from leaving but loose enough for you to pull away if you so wished. Realizing what he did he slowly pulls away. You immediately miss the warmth.
He looks down, blush remaining on his cheeks as he nervously fiddles with his fingers. “Don’t go, I..” he pauses, unsure if he should finish his thought. He looked up to see you staring at him patiently, waiting for him to finish. That was one thing he loved about you; you were always so patient with him. Although he was more talkative than he was 100 years ago he often found himself struggling to express what he wanted, likely an unconscious habit that stayed with him through his century-long sleep. Despite this you never hurried or pressured him into talking, allowing him to do it at his own pace. Taking a deep breath he continued. “.. I like being close to you.”
As soon as the words left his mouth you felt your cheeks burn. Did you hear him right or was it just a hallucination caused by the late hour of the night? You thought about pinching yourself, but the way he nervously played with his fingers (a habit you found adorable) and the way the ends of his hair curled up just a bit revealing a small scar on his shoulder made it too real to be a dream.
After a few moments of silence Link looked up, seeing your shocked expression. He quickly backtracked, thinking he made you uncomfortable with what he said. “Unless you don’t! That’s fine!—”
“I do!”
Link freezes upon hearing your response. You awkwardly clear your throat. “I-I mean, I also like being close to you..” you nearly whisper, feeling your ears burn with the embarrassment of blurting it out earlier.
Then the room went silent. Your heart was frantically beating against your chest; you hoped Link couldn’t hear it.
Your fear was proven false (unbeknownst to you) as Link was currently lost in his own mind. Link had become so accustomed to seeing you in that golden campfire glow that the current sight of you left him breathless. He thought you looked even more captivating in the moonlight.
He slowly nodded his head, eyes refusing to leave your form. “Ok.” He responded in a daze. It was the only thing Link could think to say as his mind was still elsewhere.
“We should probably sleep now..” You looked past Link and out the window, seeing the moon high in the clear sky. “It’s getting late.”
Link hummed, snapping out of the trance he was in and nodding his head in agreement. You settled back under the blanket and he followed your actions. Despite your earlier conversation, there was still a good chunk of space between the two of you on the small bed.
Wanting him to come closer, you begin to think of a way to convince him. “You know, it’s kind of cold in here.” You whispered (a small lie, it was the middle of summer), but you knew Link heard you when he looked back at you. Deciding to take a chance you scoot closer to him and you hear his breath hitch. “So I wouldn’t mind if.. you came closer.”
Hesitantly, Link listened and with a smile scooted just a little bit closer. You breathed out a sigh of relief you didn’t even know you were holding, moving closer to him again. Beneath the blanket, your hand slowly moved to reach his. As your fingers slowly grazed his he flinched. You were about to pull away before he intertwined his hand with yours. There’s that familiar warmth.
He pulled your hand close to his chest, gently tugging you closer. You complied, wordlessly moving closer to him once again. The distance between your bodies was minimal now; you were so close you could see the faintest freckles gracing his cheeks.
“Are you still cold?” He asked in a low whisper. You nodded your head (another lie, you were already beginning to feel sweaty). You couldn’t help it, now that you’ve experienced what it’s like to be close to him you crave more. Being greedy just this once wouldn’t hurt.
Link lets go of your hand, wrapping his arms around you to bring you against his chest. Your eyes widen at the sudden action, but you don’t pull away.
“Better?”
You nodded, slowly wrapping your arms around him in case he flinched away. When he didn’t you fully wrapped your arms around his torso and snuggled into him, a painfully large grin stretching across your face when he did the same. Your palms were sweaty as they tightly gripped his shirt. He smelled earthy, like damp dirt with a hint of smoke. You sighed in contentment, not caring that the two of you would likely wake up sweaty tomorrow. You didn’t release your grip and neither did he.
You silently thanked Hylia for not answering your prayer earlier before falling into a deep sleep.
thank you for reading till the end! :D
masterlist
#link x reader#link x y/n#link x you#botw link x reader#botw x reader#loz x reader#link imagine#link fluff#botw#breath of the wild#[📝 sunni writes]
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Double Espresso
Simon Riley/female reader
600ish words.
Warnings: inferred trauma and PTSD.
Here’s a nonsense ramble on how I think, maybe, Simon could meet you (in a future /reader fic).
It’s the way you’re sitting, he thinks. Curled over the little two top table with your nose pointed downwards in a book. It could be your sweater, which matches the wood grain and your boots, the tan of the leather faded and the fabric crinkled where your toes must be. It could be the way the light reflects onto your skin through the window, the sun muted by the fogged glass, its patterns dancing in a kaleidoscope across where your fingers turn pages. A coffee colored dollop of foam swirled on the top of the ceramic cup that you’re sipping from tells him you’re drinking a latte of some kind and he wonders if you’re the type that just drinks milk and espresso, or if you enjoy some sort of flavor, like vanilla, or caramel.
He’s half pushed into a corner, hood pulled up over his head, black cloth mask over his nose, the very image of him enough to make most of the people in this tiny cafe clutch their purses tighter to their bodies or press their children into their hips. He’s enough to make the men stare down at their phone screens, watching him from the corner of their eyes, pretending to be unbothered.
You don’t seem to notice.
You don’t even look up. Poor self awareness. The automatic breakdown starts in his mind, pulling your failure to notice your surroundings apart and then putting you back together as he slowly reminds himself you’re a civilian, not a soldier. Civilian. Not a soldier.
He’s too busy staring at you to hear the name being called by the girl behind the counter, who’s now raising her voice just a little higher, pitching just a little sharper, to try to grab his attention.
Your head jerks upwards at the shift in her tone, and that’s when he truly sees your face for the first time.
He’s never seen magic in real life. Used to believe in stories about it, when he was a boy. Before. Before Ghost. Before, when he was still whole. When he still knew what touch felt like that didn’t leave a mark, invisible or seen. Before, when he still longed for the love and caress of another without fearing it. Before, when he could sleep through the night.
He thinks he’s seeing magic right now though, and it blinds him. Immobilizes him, tranquilizes him. It’s like he’s been hit with a stun grenade, and the cafe spins. He’s watching your face move, watching it get closer, and then even closer, before you’re standing right in front of his body, sweater falling off your left shoulder, book still clutched in your fingers.
It doesn’t even register, that you’re now blinking upwards with a raised eyebrow, lips pursed with skepticism. You open your mouth and say something, but instead of words, he just hears a melody. Something sweet and delicate, a peal of bells strung together in well timed succession. When he doesn’t respond, you try again, and acid ices your tone until he’s shaking his stupor off and taking a hasty step backwards.
“I think that’s yours.” You gesture to the small white cup on the counter. What’s his? His brain trips over the word ‘yours’, but when he continues to say nothing, you frown. “The uh, double espresso?” You have an accent. He still doesn’t speak. Doesn’t know how to, in this moment that feels more like a dream than reality. You exchange a word with the counter girl, and pull the cup from the countertop, holding it out in your hand, tentatively. “Sir? Are you… everything okay?” Your skepticism, the sour edge of your expression has morphed into full fledged concern.
You step forward.
He steps back until he feels the glass of the side door against his body, the lightweight frame swinging open just an inch, enough that the breeze from outside snakes between his clothes.
It rattles him and he turns on a dime, leaving you standing in the cafe, a double espresso in your outstretched hand.
#peaches writes#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x reader#ghost cod#cod mwii#cod ghost#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw fanfiction#cod mw2
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— the perfect girl
pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader
warnings: none
summary: wednesday hated warming up to anyone, but she would lie if she said the demon girl with soft grins and calloused hands wasn't slowly occupying a special corner in her heart
word count: 3.3k
read pt. 1 here
“You know, I’m still kinda pissed about the dance.”
Wednesday turned in her seat to look at the demon who was busy glaring a hole through the ceiling, hands under her head as she laid on the bed.
“Why would you be?”
“You know why,” (Y/n) worried her lip between her teeth, brows furrowed at the thought that she herself had brought up and didn’t seem to enjoy in the slightest, “It should’ve been me.”
The ravenette stared at the other girl, unblinking, before turning back to her typewriter, “You should’ve asked me yourself, then.”
“It’s never that easy with you. You’re so hard to read sometimes,” the oni girl turned on her side, watching Wednesday type with concentration, “Would’ve you said yes?”
The typing stopped, and Wednesday was silent for a moment, before she continued.
“Yes, I would’ve.”
(Y/n) fist pumped the air with a whisper-yell of a ‘yes!’ before turning to lay on her back again, grinning like a pleased cat. Wednesday sighed, shaking her head, “You’re so childish. The reason I went with Tyler was completely out of my control.”
“Fuck Tyler,” (Y/n) barked with no hesitation, “Well, at least we still got the prom,” she thought for a bit and then asked, “Will you go to prom with me?”
“If you’re not dead or expelled by that time, then yes, I will, (Y/n).” Wednesday replied distractedly, getting a bit annoyed with the conversation, “Now, please, let me focus.”
The demon girl sighed dreamily, closing her eyes, “I’m going to prom with Wednesday Addams.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist a small smile that made its way to her face.
"I want to cuddle with you."
Silence hung heavy in the air for a few moments, and (Y/n) looked up from the book she was reading, brows furrowed in complete disbelief as she stared at Wednesday, who was sitting at her desk like the girl had grown a second head on her shoulders.
"... What?"
"Do you have a hearing problem? I said," the ravenette closed her eyes with a deep inhale, and then looked at (Y/n) again, now obviously annoyed, "I. Want. To cuddle with you."
The demon closed her book and put it on the nightstand, her attention now fully on the other girl, still not believing the statement, “You want to cuddle?” she chuckled, “Is the world ending tomorrow?”
"Choke." Wednesday deadpanned before turning back to the laptop she was scrolling through.
“No, wait,” (Y/n) shot up from the bed to scooch closer to the chair the now frowning girl was resting on, “I’m sorry, snookums. That was insensitive of me,” the demon gave Wednesday the biggest puppy eyes she could manage, and paired with the tusks sticking out of her mouth, she did resemble one, though too big and a bit too menacing to be a puppy, “I would love nothing more than to cuddle with you. Please?”
Wednesday rolled her eyes with a sigh, as if she wasn’t the one asking in the first place, before giving in with fake reluctance, but (Y/n) had long since learned to see right through that bluff. The gloomy girl rose up from the chair, and the demon gently grabbed her hand, slowly, to give Wednesday a chance to pull away if she so desired, and moved the ravenette to stand between her legs, “Do you want me to hold you, or...?”
Without saying a word, Wednesday pushed the oni on the bed before joining her, tangling their legs together and resting her head on the demon’s chest. Wednesday’s body was clad in a hoodie that almost swallowed her whole and that was, undoubtedly, (Y/n)’s, judging by the oversized way it fit on her shoulders. It was the demon’s favorite, too – well, used to be, now that it seemed to belong to the smaller girl who refused to give it back, threatening to chop off the arms of anyone who touched it.
It wasn’t like (Y/n) minded, anyways.
The ravenette's arms wound themselves around the demon's middle, squeezing lightly, and (Y/n) could feel her heart swell.
“Aww, ‘Day,” she cooed lovingly, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, palms resting on her waist, “You’re like a grumpy little black cat."
“Don’t speak.” The shorter girl grumbled against the oni’s sweatshirt.
“Again?” Wednesday asked, opening her dorm door in front of the demon girl, half – naked and covered in blood from head to toe.
(Y/n) stepped inside, bare feet leaving red prints on the floor, “I ate a deer!” She grinned proudly, eyes still gleaming with her hunting glee, and turned to the other side of the room to wave at the second inhabitant of the dorm, “Hey, Enid.”
“I think I’m gonna throw up.” the blonde mumbled, her hand over her mouth as she buried her face in her pillow.
“You’re killing her, (Y/n),” Wednesday sighed, rummaging through her wardrobe to find some clean clothes, “And you reek of blood. As much as I like that, you need to shower.”
“I don’t wanna.” The demon whined tiredly, stepping closer to Wednesday to drape herself over the girl who moved away, quickly avoiding the other’s bloodied claws and limbs.
“No touching until you’re clean. Come on.”
Despite her reproachful tone, she grabbed the sulking oni by the hand, holding a clean towel and a black oversized hoodie in the other, and led (Y/n) out of the room and to the bathrooms of Ophelia Hall.
The demon girl had made it a habit to come to the ravenette after Blood Moons in the early hours of morning. While she did act cool and collected, she loathed being alone during those nights. She was glad Wednesday didn’t kick her out the first time she had showed up at the girl’s doorstep, bloodied and tired. (Y/n) didn’t like being vulnerable in front of other people, but with Wednesday it was different. She didn't make her feel weak.
When they entered the showers, Wednesday turned on the lights, dropped the clothes on the sink, and looked up at the other girl, her gaze stern.
“Make sure you get all of the dirt off your hair. I hope you won’t need any help with that, at least.”
(Y/n) smirked, leaning her elbow against the door frame, her haori sliding off her shoulder seductively.
“Hmm, I don’t know… There are some places I probably won’t be able to reach myself…”
Wednesday threw the towel at the taller girl's face and, with a quick jab at the oni’s arm, left the room, her cheeks gaining a barely noticeable color.
When Wednesday raised her hand to knock at (Y/n)’s door, her fist froze mid - air. A huge claw mark was adorning the wood, the scratch seemingly almost powerful enough to tear the door off its hinges, and the ravenette realised it was unlocked.
Grabbing the handle to slowly let herself in, the girl stepped inside quietly, dread pooling at her stomach as a myriad of different anxious thoughts ran through her mind.
“…(Y/n)?”
It was pure chaos inside. It was dark, but the light of the lamps on the street coming from the window was enough to let Wednesday see the mess that (Y/n)’s dorm room was – there were claw marks everywhere, on the walls, on the table, and her chair laid on the floor, broken into pieces. Papers and books were scattered around along with some ceramic shards of what most likely used to be a cup. In the middle of the room, plunged between two floorboards, was the oni's katana. Its scabbard was thrown off to the side, but, thankfully, the blade was unharmed.
The (h/c) – haired girl was sitting at the foot of her bed, face buried in her knees drawn to her chest. She didn’t move an inch when Wednesday called her name, only growling quietly in response.
“Leave.”
Carefully maneuvering around the wooden and glass fragments, Wednesday made her way to the miserable form of the demon, and the oni hissed at her again, raising her head a bit to glare at the unwanted guest, slitted eyes glowing in the dark frighteningly, “I said fucking leave.”
“Don’t you snap at me,” Wednesday scolded softly, unfazed by her attitude, and crouched next to (Y/n), “What happened?”
The girl didn’t answer. She hugged her legs closer to her chest instead, clawed hands gripping her arms painfully.
The ravenette sat down and moved closer, leaning on her palms, and her hand touched something smooth and solid. Feeling around the floor in the darkness, she grabbed the item and raised it to her eyes – it was (Y/n)’s dragon pendant, lace torn in half.
Wednesday carefully reached for the nightstand to leave the golden charm there before moving even closer to the demon, making her flinch like a scared animal when their legs touched. She didn’t speak again. She leaned her head on the oni’s shoulder, cold fingers gently grazing her hand that was still gripping the sleeve of her shirt, and the ravenette’s heart squeezed at the shaky sigh the taller girl let out at the sensation.
Wednesday was seldom ever patient. But she’d stay like this for days, if needed. Only for (Y/n).
Wednesday stared at the clock with exasperation, counting the seconds. The class had ended a few minutes ago, and (Y/n) was supposed to pick her up for lunch. Where was she?
The ravenette prayed to all the gods almighty that the demon would hurry and show up any second, because the predicament she currently found herself in was going to make her snap a neck.
Xavier's neck, to be precise.
As if sitting next to him the whole period wasn't enough, the brunet decided to bother her during the break. He was going on about something Wednesday wasn't even listening to at this point, and the ravenette wished looks could kill so that the young man would drop dead at her feet and quit his pathetic attempts at socializing with her.
"Anyway, are you going somewhere this break? Want to grab lunch together, maybe?" Xavier asked with a grin.
"I'm already going with someone, actually." The ravenette informed without even trying to be subtle with her annoyance.
"Oh, you're on demand, aren't you? Will you ever fit me into that busy schedule of yours? Who are you going with?"
"That's really none of your business, Xavier." She could almost feel a vein throb at her forehead angrily, and Wednesday swore that a second longer and she wouldn't be responsible for-
"Excuse me," Wednesday heard a familiar voice by her side suddenly, and felt a warm hand land on her waist, "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
The ravenette looked up to see (Y/n), the demon’s gaze already fixed on her adoringly, mouth stretched in a toothy grin.
"Sorry I took so long, little raven. Weems and I had a talk," she looked at Xavier, her smile instantly becoming tight-lipped, "I'm not too late, am I?"
"You did interrupt something here, (Y/n). We were just having a normal conversation. Not sure if you've ever heard of those in whatever hellish cave you came from." The artist grumbled, obviously not happy to see the demon girl.
The hold the oni had on Wednesday's side tightened and she grit her teeth, lip rising to bare her tusks intimidatingly, "Better watch your mouth before I rip your jaw off."
The young man made a face of disgust at the threat, furrowing his eyebrows, “You should keep that thing on a leash, Addams.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ve tried. She tears them," Wednesday said, stepping into Xavier's personal space with a glare, "Call (Y/n) a thing one more time, and I might just let her have your remains when I'm done with you."
The ravenette grabbed the taller girl by the hand to turn around and lead her away and out of the classroom without another word, and the demon had hearts in her eyes as she stared at the back of Wednesday’s head, smiling like a lovesick fool.
I’m gonna marry her.
It was late in the morning as (Y/n) stood in the quad among her fellow students, worrying her lip between her blunt tusks in a nervous habit. It was the day she had been dreading for the past week –Parents’ Weekend at the Nevermore Academy.
The demon’s appearance was at its best: she had her hair done perfectly, suit jacket and pants freshly ironed, and even her shirt was buttoned up fully, which itself was an unlikely fashion for the oni girl. She had brushed her teeth extra hard and she smelled of good expensive cologne she insisted on drenching herself in before heading out.
Why was the oni feeling so on edge? It wasn’t a test she had to pass in order to keep dating her grumpy dark – haired girlfriend, as she knew Wednesday couldn’t care less about what anyone else thought of their relationship, nevertheless, the urge to impress her parents was kind of there anyway.
A bead of sweat rolled down (Y/n)’s forehead as she raised her hand to fumble with her tie that now seemed to be choking her, fixing her collar for the nth time to make herself look as pristine as possible.
“Stop fidgeting, (Y/n). You look good.”
Wednesday was standing next to the demon girl, completely unbothered, gaze emotionless as she watched (Y/n) writhe in her nervousness.
“I can’t,” the oni grunted in reply, “This damn thing is killing me.”
Wednesday sighed and got on her tip - toes, smacking (Y/n)’s hands away to fix the tie properly, slender fingers sliding under the cloth to tighten it slightly. When she was done, she moved away to take a look, and nodded to herself.
“There. Now quit overthinking. It’ll be fine.” The ravenette pecked the taller girl’s cheek gently to ease her nerves, and went to stand next to her again, “They’ll have to live with my choice, whether they want it or not.”
“Yeah, but… there’s something in having your parents like me on their own terms, don’t you think?”
More and more people were starting to gather in the yard, occupying the seats in front of the microphone where the principal was supposed to address the event. (Y/n) looked into the crowd, her slitted eyes gliding over the faces of the parents before she sighed, “Father’s still not here,” she mumbled, “I hope he doesn’t miss Weems’s speech again. Sometimes I think he does it on purpose every time.”
“Honestly, I can relate.” Wednesday deadpanned, and (Y/n) smiled weakly.
The girls watched the tall blonde woman walk up to stand in front of the crowd, but the oni couldn’t focus on the words she was speaking. Anxiety was clawing at her stomach with every passing second, and her bottom lip started to bleed from the intense nagging of her canines.
“So let’s focus on the positive, and make this Parents’ Weekend our very best yet.” Principal Weems finished with a smile, and the crowd burst into happy applause. Wednesday’s eyes flicked to the side, and she grabbed (Y/n) under her arm, “Come on, the sooner we finish this, the better.”
The demon nodded quickly, taking a deep breath and bracing herself for the worst. God, this was more nerve – wrecking than any exam in the academy.
“Look at this. Some things never change.”
A tall woman in a tight black dress walked into the quad, her gait like that of an elegant ghost as she looked around the yard with a hint of melancholic nostalgia in her eyes. Her hair was dark and long, and it contrasted with her pale complexion in an eerily - beautiful way. She was holding onto a shorter man dressed in a dark striped suit, and his hair and mustache were styled with diligence, and paired with his manners he seemed like a true gentleman.
When the family noticed their child walking over, they smiled, and her father stepped closer with a pleasant grin.
“There she is,” he spoke, adoration and a thick accent lacing his voice, “Oh, how we missed those accusing eyes and youthful sneer!”
Wednesday let go of (Y/n)’s arm to step into her father’s embrace, stiff as a board. Then the man's gaze flicked to the demon, "Have you brought a friend, dear?"
The short girl hesitated for a moment, as if embarrassed, and then spoke up, “This is (Y/n). She is my… paramour.” There was a small dust of color on her pale cheeks.
The man seemed taken aback for a moment, before he smiled again, obviously pleased with the news.
“Oh, how wonderful! I’m so glad to know someone has slithered their way into my little deathtrap’s dark heart,” he held his hand out, “My name is Gomez Addams.”
Taking the man’s palm into hers, (Y/n) shook it and smiled back at him politely, “I’m (Y/n) (L/n). It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Addams.”
The older Addams stepped away and back to his wife, and the woman looked the oni up and down before smirking, a small mischievous spark in her half – lidded eyes, “We’ve been dying to meet you, (Y/n). My dear daughter has painted quite a picture. I’m Morticia. I suppose I have you to thank for Wednesday’s slightly better than grim mood she’s been in for the past few weeks. It’s a worthy achievement, I’d say.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Addams. It’s a pleasure.”
“So,” the woman turned to Wednesday, “Tell us everything.”
“Since you’ve abandoned me, I’ve been hunted, haunted, and the target of an attempted murder. And then she got stuck with me.” Wednesday deadpanned, and Gomez sighed dreamily, grabbing at his heart dramatically.
“Oh, Nevermore, I love you so!”
(Y/n) smiled warmly at the way a small ghost of an upturn touched Wednesday’s lips when she spoke to her father. It seemed that, behind the mask of disdain she held when she spoke of her parents, she still loved them dearly.
"My little storm cloud has mentioned you're good with a blade. Do you fence, (Y/n)?"
The demon girl was sitting next to Gomez at the table, leaving Wednesday to have her mother – daughter talk as she conversed with the short man.
"Uh, not exactly. I'm a swordswoman by my father's legacy." (Y/n) replied.
"Oh, so you must be a worthy opponent, hm? I hope we do get a chance to duel this weekend. To the death, of course." Gomez laughed, baring his gapped teeth in a friendly smile.
"I'd love to, Mr. Addams,” the oni smiled back, “Wednesday has been a fencing champion here at Nevermore since the day she arrived,” (Y/n) said proudly, tactfully choosing not to mention the Bianca incident, “She stings so fast and sharp, like a deadly black widow. You’re a wonderful teacher, Mr. Addams.”
“You flatter me, (Y/n),” the older Addams brushed the compliment off with a teasing smile, “But thank you. I’d say it’s mostly mia piccolo corvo’s merit. Her talent is unremarkable.”
Morticia and Wednesday watched the pair from where they were striding through the yard, and the woman smiled at the scene, “I never would have guessed you had a thing for demonic creatures, my lovely storm cloud. You inherited my good taste, I suppose.”
“I’m not as shallow as to choose the people I keep close based on their appearance, mother,” Wednesday said, watching her father hit (Y/n)’s back as he laughed at something she had said, “(Y/n) is much more than what she looks like.”
Morticia hummed, “She makes you happy. That’s what’s important to me.”
The smaller ravenette raised her eyebrows and looked up at her mother incredulously, not expecting such a response.
“But I have to say, her looks are certainly fit for a perfect Addams family member.”
Wednesday’s cheeks reddened at the statement, and she looked away, gaze landing back at the oni, a small smile on her lips, “Don’t be delusional.”
#wednesday#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday netflix#wednesday x reader#wednesday 2022#netflix wednesday#wednesday addams#wednesday x you#wednesday imagine#wednesday the series#wednesday addams x y/n#imagine#female reader#wednesday x fem!reader#wednesday x female reader
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hello! may i say i absolutely love your writing??? so i thought i’d request something :) aaron is readers first actual relationship (like her first serious one?) and her family dynamics have been difficult while growing up (absent father, not a really close relationship with her mother, she always felt like more of a flatmate to her yk?), so she hasn’t experienced what it feels like to be truly loved and wanted and aaron has given her that, which makes their relationship even more special and important to her. he’s basically the only person she fully trusts and vice versa. when they get into their first big fight, she gets overwhelmed and is afraid he’s going leave her and thinks things like “i knew this was too good to be true” etc. of course, they make up and aaron comforts her and assures her he’ll never leave her.
if this is something you don’t want to write, that’s totally fine!!! 🫶🏼
Thank you, sweet nonny, for your kind words and the request 🥹 And sorry this took me so long to post!! I hope you don't mind I tweaked a bit to play more on reader's anxiety than the fight aspect- I hope this is what you were looking for 🖤
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader (angsty angst + hurt/comfort)
—————
Stupid, you chastise yourself for the umpteenth time as the apartment door closes behind your partner. Evidently he’s taken all the air in the room with him because your lungs can’t seem to find any oxygen to breathe in. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. What did you think was going to happen?
Rather than staring at the closed door in the vain hope that Aaron will walk back through it, you scrub your hands over your face and head down the hall to his bedroom. You stand on your tiptoes to reach your duffel bag in the closet that’s been sitting on a shelf since he first insisted you keep some things at his apartment. Maybe if you just give him space and then apologize, he won’t leave. After your dad walked out, that strategy had worked on most of your mother’s relationships, however short-lived they happened to be.
Your heart breaks at the thought of losing Aaron over something so seemingly trivial. Why hadn't you fought harder, spoken with more confidence in your voice? Why couldn’t you just let it go?
You had planned a quiet dinner at Aaron’s place to celebrate six months of absolute bliss together. All you had told him last week was there would be a surprise waiting for him at home, courtesy of the shiny new key on your ring you had yet to use. You spent the evening cooking the recipe that you had been buying ingredients for when you bumped into him at the grocery store, a smile on your face while the memory replayed in your head. As the clock neared seven, you left the food in the oven to stay warm and went about setting the table, complete with fresh flowers, candles, and Aaron’s favorite red wine. Music played softly in the background, a series of songs you put together that reminded you of your boyfriend that he was never allowed to find out about. You gave the sauce simmering on the stove another taste test, smacking your lips together before adding another pinch of oregano.
Then, you fired off a quick Can’t wait to see you soon! text to your boyfriend and settled down on the couch with your book to wait for his arrival from Quantico.
You waited… and waited, and checked your phone, and waited some more. As the minutes ticked by and the smile on your face faltered, you reasoned with a sigh that the BAU had probably gotten a case, and he was busy briefing the team before heading halfway across the country. You were no stranger to receiving a text or call from the jet, an apology for the untimely case and promise to make it up to you as soon as he was home.
But this radio silence felt different, and you released your bottom lip from its cage beneath your teeth with a quiet hiss when the familiar metallic taste of your anxiety getting the better of you touched your tongue. A thousand and one scenarios flew through your mind, possibilities of Aaron being hurt in the field or succumbing to another one of those fainting spells that his teammate and friend, Dave, had once warned you about.
Or maybe, just maybe, he had grown tired of you and was trying to figure out how to break things off.
Reaching the six month mark was a new milestone for you in a relationship. Most of your other relationships, if you could even call them that, didn’t make it past the third date. Aaron could probably profile you in his sleep, tell you that the absence of your father in your life and your strained relationship with your mother made it hard for you to recognize genuine connection. That you were a serial people pleaser, even at the expense of your own health and wellbeing, convinced that if you said and did all the right things, you would be worthy of people’s attention, time, and affection.
Hell, the person who cut in front of you in line for coffee could probably tell that about you by the way you insisted they go ahead first.
As the digital clock on the stove flickered to 10:00, your nerves over Aaron’s welfare outcompeted your guilt over bothering him at work. You unlocked your phone to find your earlier text to him delivered but unread, and pressed his contact picture to place the call. He picked up on the third ring, and you released a sigh of relief until he answered with an easy, “Hi, honey, how are you?”
Confusion muddled your features, but you kept your voice even as you answered, “Fine, my love. You got a new case?”
“Luckily no, and I’m so sorry I didn’t respond to your text earlier. I just got caught up trying to finish this report so I don’t have to work this weekend while we…” He trailed off with a quiet curse before coming back on the line. “Baby,” he breathed out, a heavy sigh laced with regret. “We were supposed to celebrate tonight, weren’t we?”
“It’s okay,” you offered immediately, not really answering his question as your gaze flicked up to the wax dripping down the half-eroded candles.
“No,” he responded firmly, and you could hear the distinct shuffling of papers in the background. “It’s not okay. It’s late, so there shouldn’t be traffic now. I’ll be home in twenty.”
You had spent those twenty minutes cleaning up the kitchen and convincing yourself that you weren’t really upset, just worried that he hadn’t eaten all day or taken proper care of himself. Then you changed out of your dress, opting instead for sweatpants and one of Aaron's old law school shirts to appear as casual as possible. By the time you heard his key in the lock, you were ready to meet him at the door with a smile.
“Hi, baby,” you purred in greeting, cupping Aaron's face in your hands and drawing him down for a sweet kiss. He practically melted into your touch, pressing his lips to yours between words of apology. “It’s okay, really,” you answered easily with a shrug. “We can just have what I made tomorrow!”
Aaron’s mouth turned downward at that, and you immediately criticized yourself for mentioning the meal at all. “Sweetheart-”
“Aar, baby, it was nothing,” you attempted to laugh it off, but his brows furrowed even deeper at your insistence.
“Why aren’t you upset? You should be upset.”
“Why?” you challenged in return, smoothing your hands along his arms even as your fear that he was trying to push you away reared its ugly head. “I know how difficult your job is. I don’t expect you to remember every little thing we talk about.”
“Y/N, no.” His voice was firm as he gripped your shoulders and dipped his head down to meet your gaze. “This wasn’t a little thing. Just… give me a minute and then we’ll talk.”
And now, here you are, hastily packing your bag and trying to make your escape before he returns to avoid having that dreaded conversation. The trite It's not you, it’s me and It’s for the best and You should be someone’s priority. Aaron had already sighed out the classic You deserve better before walking out the door.
You jump in surprise at the sound of Aaron’s voice rumbling over to you from the bedroom doorway. “Are we going somewhere?”
You look up at him and his heart breaks at the way your eyes are glistening in the dim light. “I thought I should spend a few days at my place. Give you some space to breathe.” And save you the hard part of saying we shouldn’t be together anymore.
His bags fall to the floor unceremoniously, and Aaron crosses the room in two short strides to cup your face in his hands, brows furrowed, eyes searching yours. “Why would I ever want to be apart from you when I don’t have to be?”
You gape at him in disbelief. “You don’t want me to leave?”
His answer is firm, resolute, a simple, “No.”
“And you’re not leaving me?”
“Absolutely not.” He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you down beside him, tucking you into his broad chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear when I left. I just went to get my things from the car, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry for assuming the worst,” you whisper. Your voice is so small and fragile, and Aaron tightens his hold on you. “I just thought…”
“You’re used to people not sticking around?” You nod, his starched shirt brushing against your cheek with the movement.
Aaron pulls back a bit to tilt your chin up, his gaze soft yet determined as he looks into your eyes. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. You understand?” You nod again, and he dots kisses all over your face until your mouth turns up in a genuine smile. “You-” He takes a deep breath and pulls your hand into his lap, running his thumb over your knuckles before continuing, “You have made my life- and Jack’s- infinitely better, and I can’t picture our family without you now.”
You lift your joined hands to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Then, hesitantly, you ask, “Aaron?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you get upset about me not getting upset?”
“Because you deserve the world, angel,” he answers firmly. “And you deserve better than the bullshit I pulled tonight. And…” He trails off, and you can feel the tension mounting in the rise of his shoulders. Placing your hand on his taut muscles, you rub it back and forth in a soothing pattern until he releases a breath and admits, “It reminded me of my marriage, when things started falling apart before the divorce. Haley had gotten so used to my absence or making work a priority that she would just excuse things. First it was little things, like not answering a text for hours.”
“Huh, you don’t say,” you interject, and Aaron’s gaze cuts over to you to find a cheeky smile on your face.
He nudges your shoulder with his own, muttering an apology before continuing, “Then it was bigger things. Holidays and trips and back to school nights. I even- I missed Jack’s first steps, y’know that? I was on a case, halfway across the country, and I didn’t see the video she sent me until days later.”
“Aaron,” you sigh, now tucking him into your chest. “Do you know what Jack’s going to remember? That you were always there when it counted. He’s going to remember the night you went out in the rain to find his special Darth Vader suit for Halloween, and the countless hours you and Dave put in to coach his soccer team to the championship, and the blanket forts and movie nights and walks in the park with ice cream dripping down our wrists until it’s an unsalvageable mess. You’re his hero, you big dummy.”
Aaron shifts until his head is in your lap, looking up at you with a small smile and glistening eyes. “How did we get here?”
“You gave me a key to your apartment and then missed our anniversary dinner.”
“Thank you, you sassy little thing.” He playfully tugs at your hair falling down from your shoulders and framing his face. “I mean, I was supposed to be apologizing and groveling at your feet for my transgressions, but here you are comforting me instead. You really do-”
“If you say deserve better, I’m going to beat you up, Aaron,” you threaten, although the smile on your face says otherwise.
He mimes zipping his lips, then twists his wrist around to glance at his watch. “It’s still our six month anniversary for another hour or so, and the apartment smells divine. You up for a late night meal?”
Leaning down, you nuzzle your nose against his before answering, “Deal. But I’m sitting pretty at the table and you’re serving me, Hotchner.”
“In just an apron and nothing else underneath?”
“Oh, hell yes,” you squeal in delight. “You’re in trouble now, baby. I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth.”
“As you should, my love. As you should.”
__________
AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies
#this is unfortunately how my brain works#ow my feelings#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x female reader#hotch x you#hotch x reader#hotch x y/n#hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#hotch imagine#hotch#ssa aaron hotchner#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine#reader request#angst and hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#angst with comfort
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“Come back to bed.”
Today, I present to you my interpretation of the lovely anonymous ask I received:
“Reader was super touch starved before they started dating and Cal is super touchy, and she loves it but also has trouble getting used it. But her favorite thing is when he rubs her back (comfort or just to be close) and it just becomes a thing for them??"
Again, lots of fluff, so enjoy!
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Touch… Such a simple thing. A sign of trust, a proof of friendship and a language of love all at the same time.
You’ve always had a strange relationship with the concept. On one hand, you feared it, on the other, you desired nothing more than to experience its effects. Thinking about it, your paradox connection to touch probably stemmed from your upbringing. Your mother had worked in one of the adult entertainment establishments of Nar Shadaa, with you growing up in this strange world of opposites.
Poor workers, rich clients. Big expectations, and crushed dreams. Honest touch and paid-for love. It all mixed together in this place, and you had watched it all from the kitchens where you were being kept while your mother served drinks to the various males that frequented the “The Pearl” every night.
Hugs were rare, as your mother wasn’t the type for it. She showed her affection in different ways, first and foremost by sending you away when you were old enough, thus saving you from a future in the establishment.
You attended a pilot academy and graduated among the top of your class. By that time, the Republic had fallen and the Empire was recruiting capable pilots left and right. Needless to say, the strict regime didn’t exactly encourage comradery and touch either.
And so you grew more and more hungry for it, while never quite knowing why.
You also hated working for the Empire. Payment was bad, the treatment of people horrendous and everything about it simply felt wrong.
It was by pure accident that you crossed paths with the rebels when one of them tried to pay you good credits to smuggle someone off-planet along with your booked cargo. You had agreed, mostly for the credits, to be honest, but eventually, helping people became a mission. A true purpose. Something fulfilling.
You also came to love one rebel in particular: Cal Kestis. You had run several missions for and with him until he eventually asked you to join his crew permanently. They could always use a good pilot, he argued. A good friend of his, Greeze, used to be the Captain of the impressive ship he used to get around, but the Latero had retired or was at least taking an extensive break.
And so your story with Cal had begun, quickly growing from allies to friends and eventually romantic partners. It had all happened so fast and your head still reeled from how the redhead had managed to worm his way into your heart. Never had you met anyone displaying such kindness, gentleness, patience and respect. It was impossible not to fall in love with him.
He taught you how to fight as well, organizing a metal staff for you after you turned out to be a rather poor shot. You two sparred regularly, with the Jedi putting his combat training into good use to teach you new tricks.
The crew around you changed constantly. Some left, some died, some joined you only for a specific job. But Cal, BD-1 and you were a constant on the Mantis. They were your family and the ship your home.
Often, you would sit awake long into the night, staring out into the galaxy passing you by and thinking about what your life would have been like if your mother hadn’t saved up every credit to send you away.
“Didn’t you say you’d join me in 10 minutes?”
You turned and found Cal leaning against the doorway leading to the cockpit. His hair was tousled and his eyes sleepy, but a small smile was playing on his lips, as he crossed his arms in front of his bare chest.
“That was three hours ago, love.”, he added when you sent him a confused look.
“Oh…”, was all you could say, not having realized how much time had passed. Getting lost in memories did that to you.
Stifling a yawn, Cal moved to drop into the Co-pilot seat, green eyes searching yours.
“Can’t sleep again?” His voice was full of sympathy as he reached out a hand to rest on your knee.
There it was again: touch.
Cal always reached for you. Whether it was for a hug or a kiss, to hold your hand, to just feel you near or to make sweet love with you. Every touch from his was special and you did your best to reciprocate. You still remembered the look of pure joy the first time you initiated a hug or gave him a kiss or reached for his hand on your own. It helped you greatly to open yourself to the kind of love language you had yearned for, yet still needed to grasp fully.
You stared at his hand on your knee and slowly placed yours on top of his.
“I was thinking about my mother… and everything she did to give me a good life.”
Cal nodded in understanding, but didn’t say anything, allowing you to unload your thoughts. He knew your past and had even volunteered to help your mom, but she had disappeared from “The Pearl” after your graduation with no sign of her to be found.
“She saved you. That’s love.”, he eventually spoke and you smiled.
“I wish I could have shown her more that I loved her.”, you sighed. You regretted that you hadn’t hugged her more on your own accord.
“I am sure that she knew.”, Cal assured you, ever the supportive voice for your conscience.
You smiled at him and nodded, before slipping from the pilot’s chair into his lap, arms sneaking around him. “I love you, Cal… And I want to show you every day.”, you muttered into his neck, as his arms came to rest around you.
“You do show me every day, Starlight.”, he whispered back, holding you close. “And I am so very grateful for it, because I love you as well. To the end of the Galaxy and back.”
For a while you just sat in silence, enjoying the proximity, Cal's hand drawing small circles on your lower back. It was your favourite, really, the gesture always helping you relax.
“Now come back to bed, love.”, the Jedi whispered eventually and you nodded, allowing him to carry you back into your room, where you both gave into desire.
Touch… Such a simple thing. A sign of trust, a proof of friendship and a language of love all at the same time.
You’ve always had a strange relationship with the concept. But you were ready to open your heart to it fully, as long as Cal was with you.
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catching feelings? no, i wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure!
summary: a lil drabble about alucard getting all the (mostly) consequenceless comfort sex he deserves
pairing: alucard x gn afab reader
cw: post season 3, unprotected medieval sex, fingering, somnophilia, unresolved feelings, dubcon if you quint, cumming untouched♥️ masturbation, voyeurism
You were a…friend of Alucard’s. A friendly traveler who’d stayed with him a number of days while waiting out a storm and passing through the area. He was glad for the company but you were very forward about how attractive you found him. Not that he saw this as an issue on its own but it was just… he didn’t know if he should entertain your advances or not, he knew he was attracted to you but he figured it best not to open himself up to anything.
At least, that was the plan. Adrian had tried very hard not to let his cock do his character assessments for him but it happened quite naturally anyway. He had a good feeling about you, he justified. He wasn’t looking for what wasn’t there this time either. You were just a casual traveler who happened to enjoy wine, pretty men and sex, he gathered. You didn’t seem to have many more ambitions to your meeting, you didn’t put on some choreographed seduction. You didn’t know anything about magic, couldn’t have given a fuck about the Belmont hold if he paid you and were only vaguely concerned at the shabby state of the castle you’d be sleeping in. It happened easily after seeing these things, his mind (and cock) justified sleeping with you by rattling them through his brain each time he saw you bend to pick up a book or bring your lips to a glass of wine.
He’d heard you touching yourself doors down from him in the guest bedroom. He could tell you were muffling your moans into a pillow but his keen vampiric hearing would not allow him not to be tortured by it. He shuddered, trying to make himself stop listening, go back to reading his book but his cock won out the war against his brain and he drifted down to your room, opening the door.
You looked up, surprised but he could see he was not at all unwelcome. He swallowed hard at the sight of you half dressed and panting, looking over your shoulder at him. You beckoned him into bed and he wasted no time. He had your legs open, nightgown pushed up under your chin in an instant as he played with your wet cunt which to him was now the best sensation on earth. He managed to retain enough restrain to ask “Is that alright?” as he slid the first finger in even knowing from the way your body bowed and twitched that it was definitely more than alright. He waited for your breathless “yes…I’m alright” for him to slip in another finger…and then another, not giving you any time to acclimate. He leaned in to kiss you instinctively and you responded, the two of you not letting up on your tongues slipping into each other mouths, strings of spit dribbling messily across your chins as he fingered you a bit sloppily. It was hard for him to focus hearing your moans, when he heard a sound he liked, he pressed the spot again and again with a fervor that left your body trembling, with you gasping against his kiss.
Suddenly overwhelmed and clearly close to cumming, you pushed yourself from him, desperately panting “wait, wait.” Clearly wanting to savor the moment just a little more before you came, it registered to him that he had only been at this for about three minutes and already you were at the brink. Adrian gathered you back into his arms firmly, arousal making him bold. “It’s alright, just a little more,” he murmured in that lovely voice of his that went straight to your cunt. You whimpered, taking it until you reached the edge again and strained in his arms, desperate to stretch this moment. You were never one to cum quickly, when you touched yourself, you edged for that purpose—for extending that pleasure, perhaps exceeding it depending on how long you denied yourself. Your body flexed and resisted his hold both from how intense the sensation was and because you wanted to feel it for as long as possible but his quick hands always set you back into the position he needed you to be in so that he could reach that spot inside that drove you insane. Each harsh thrust of his fingers whited your vision and you could do nothing to hold back your own orgasm which came so strongly that you clung to Adrian, your hands gripping his arm so tightly you might’ve worried about bruising that pretty pale skin of his, burying your face in his neck and biting him to contain your sounds.
Adrian came untouched at the bite. You didn’t realize it over your own groaning at first but you heard his gasp and moan and felt the roll of his hips against your backside which felt a bit damp. “Gods,” he groaned, his hands gripping you so tightly you knew he was bruising you. It was all so overwhelming, your pleasure, the touch of another person, the smell of your arousal and the vulnerability. He wasn’t thinking about pleasing his own cock then, all he’d be thinking of was the wet, warm, silken squeeze of your cunt and he’d just…been overwhelmed by the time you bit him. It was such a brazen gesture but the pain, combined with the throb of his cock and the pride he felt at making you a twitching mess culminated in him not even realizing he had been steadily making a mess of himself with precum.
“Fuck,” was all you could say when all was done and you two laid in the damp sheets trying to calm down. It was especially intense for Adrian who had gone so long without sex. It was such a comfort, even though he hadn’t gotten to fuck you properly, that he could have cried. So much touch after years of cold was euphoric and a little sad for him.
The next morning, you woke to him eating you out which you welcomed gladly. He was desperately sucking at your clit as he seemed to purr. Then it was finally, properly fucking you when he was sure he could handle more than a few seconds inside you without coming. Then it was having you on every surface possible. It was sex for comfort on a ridiculous scale. It was so indescribably good to have someone in the castle that was usually full of trauma and good memories turned tragic because of how badly they held up. Whenever he felt lonely, he was on his knees, whenever he was overwhelmed by the sheer scale of what his life had become so quickly, he was fucking you into the bed so hard part of it broke and left it lopsided.
Though, finally, the stormy weather cleared and it was safe for you to move on and you made it clear you did intend to move on which he tried very hard to respect instead of distracting you for another few days with sex. He realized when you were gone that he’d quickly have become addicted to fucking you if you stayed, the castle was filled with unquiet ghosts and he never knew just how much comfort he could take in sex. He would have buried his cock inside you every time some horridly depressing thought came to mind and he’d never deal with anything. That was why it was for the better you were only passing through, you were just too addictive for a person seeking comfort.
You did double back to the castle every once in a blue moon, though. For which he was immensely grateful. Your sparing presence was a healthy enough balance, he figured. It was hard to think logically when he had his mouth on you, honestly. He was grateful to you, for not giving him the chance to fall in love with you, to need more than you were willing to give. But honestly, sometimes, in the quiet of night as he heard the soft whistle of the wind blowing through the castle, he did wish you’d let him know you better. He wished you’d be more than friendly.
But it was all foolishness and loneliness talking. This set up was for the better. He could totally just have casual sex and spend time with you when you were in the area and mend your clothes when they got ripped and…cook your favorite dessert which he had to go to several villages to procure the ingredients for and…fill your satchel with food, medicine and a map and…ask about the family members you were visiting all without making too much of it. Totally.
#alucard tepes x reader#alucard x reader#castlevania x reader#adrian tepes x reader#alucard castlevania x reader
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