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vanteguccir · 28 days

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Fake Smile | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Chris records a TikTok with Tara after many requests from both fandoms, but fans reacted contrary to what he expected, generating questioning thoughts in Y/N.

Warning: Crying, comparison, fighting.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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The morning sun beamed beyond the half-open curtains in the living room, painting the room with orange and gold tones. Sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N immersed herself in her books, trying to focus on her notes as the sounds of Nick and Matt echoed around the house.

At that moment, Chris was absent. He had gone to Tara's house, a new friend of the triplets and, consequently, of Y/N, who had recently become a frequent figure in their lives. The objective was to record a video for Tara's channel since after the large group's social media post together, both fandoms started begging for collabs.

As Y/N immersed herself in her studies, a notification flashed on her phone screen. The girl looked up at her device, seeing the new message.

pretty boy: hi baby!! look, we did a tiktok! I look so cool: link.

A smile curved Y/N's lips as she clicked on the link, curious to see the result of one of Chris and Tara's creations. The video started, and she immediately recognized the song as one of her favorites, humming softly as her eyes captured the funny dance and interaction between the two.

A laugh escaped her lips when she saw Chris shaking his head in the lyrics "Would you get down on knees for me?", remembering all the times the song played when they were together, and exactly in this part, Chris always got down on his knees in front of Y/N, making her laugh.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scene. It was a genuine demonstration of their new friendship, and Y/N felt grateful to be part of that dynamic.

However, her joy was momentary.

As the video came to an end, Y/N scrolled through the comments, eager to see the reaction of Tara's followers. What she found left her cold.

Among the funny and complimentary comments, there was a barrage of messages that cut like sharp knives. Ardent fans of both Tara and Chris were heavily shipping them, completely ignoring Chris's long-standing and public relationship with Y/N.

"Chris and Tara are so cute together!"

"I so wanted them to be a couple 😭"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold a candle to Tara. Chris deserves someone like her."

The words echoed in Y/N's mind, like a distant echo of an approaching storm. She felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion.

How could they be so cruel? How could they judge their relationship based on fragments of a distorted reality? Y/N felt vulnerable, exposed to the relentless cruelty of the virtual world.

Her thumb moved automatically as she left the comment box, sliding the screen to the TikTok below the one she was watching, craving a quick distraction. But her hope was suddenly dashed when she saw that the next video was an edit of Chris and Tara's TikTok and all the others after.

She knew the fans were fast, but at that moment, she wanted them to be as slow as possible.

Y/N closed the app with a heavy sigh, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was difficult not to let the strangers' words and opinions get to her.

With a determined effort to forget about it momentarily, Y/N turned her attention back to the books, seeking refuge in the comforting familiarity of the printed pages, forgetting to answer Chris.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The day was coming to an end. In the room shared by Y/N and Chris, the atmosphere was filled with a silent energy, interrupted only by the gentle slide of Y/N's fingers over her phone screen, and the low sounds of various videos.

She was lying in their bed, having already taken a comforting shower, but her mind was still shrouded in a haze of dark thoughts. As she scrolled through her TikTok's For You, romantic edits of Chris and Tara popped up with disturbing frequency. Y/N's expression was a mixture of sadness and self-questioning, her eyes reflecting an inner storm.

She felt her mind defeat her with thoughts of comparison. She knew she would never reach Tara's beauty, humor, and even body.

The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door opening gently. Chris entered the room, radiating an aura of euphoria. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile spread across his face with ease.

"Hi, my pretty girl!" Chris greeted, closing the door behind him. "You won't believe how amazing the video with Tara turned out. I can't wait for her to post it so you can see it!"

"Hey, baby! I'm so happy you had fun." Y/N looked up from her cell, forcing a smile on her lips, trying with all her might not to reveal her current state - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin Chris's excitement, but the sadness still hovered in her eyes.

Chris immediately noticed the change in her expression and approached the bed, worried.

"What happened, babe?" He asked in a worried tone, frowning and sitting down next to her.

She just shook her head slightly, unable to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. Chris reached out to caress her face gently, seeking to comfort her with his loving touch.

"You didn't answer my text, I really thought something was happening... You know you can tell me anything, right?" Chris continued gently. He didn't want to force anything out of her.

Y/N nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. Before he could say anything else, Chris noticed the phone in her hand with almost silent sounds escaping from the speaker, leaning over to peer at the screen.

Romantic edits of Chris and Tara filled Y/N's device. He swallowed hard, instantly connecting the dots.

Chris's comforting touch on Y/N's face seemed to turn cool. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a sigh escaped his lips before he could control it.

"Y/N, are you really upset because of these silly edits?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with disbelief. His touch against the warm skin disappeared within seconds, the boy removing his hand from her face before sitting down on the bed.

Y/N flinched at the accusation implicit in his words, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as she struggled to find a coherent response.

"It's not just because of the edits..." She, her voice shaking with turbulent emotions. "Did you see the comments? They-"

Chris shook his head impatiently, cutting her off abruptly, frustration beginning to seep into his expression. He couldn't understand why something as trivial as fan edits could affect his girlfriend so much.

"Y/N, this is ridiculous!" He continued firmly. "These edits and comments don't mean anything. They're just fan jokes. It's not the end of the world." His voice came out louder than before, his posture now rigid.

His words hit Y/N like a sharp knife, making her feel even more inadequate and misunderstood. Anger bubbled inside her, a simmering mix of resentment and hurt.

"You don't understand, Chris!" She snapped, her voice shaking slightly. Her right hand worked to lock the screen of her phone in one quick motion, tossing it aside. "This isn't just about the edits. It's about how I feel about being compared to Tara, about how it's making me feel inferior to her! How would you feel if people started wanting to see me with a man other than you? While I'm in a relationship with you!"

Chris rolled his eyes dismissively, his patience beginning to wear thin at the intensity of Y/N's emotions.

“You’re so tiring sometimes, Y/N.” He snapped without thinking, his voice tinged with irritation, not giving a damn about how his girlfriend felt. "I can't deal with all this insecurity all the time. It's fucking exhausting."

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless, her rigid posture quickly crumbling. She felt tears run down her face without force as the painful realization settled in her heart.

She was tiring. She was insecure. She was too much for him to handle.

The pain of rejection burned in her chest as she retrieved her phone again, ripping the comforter off her legs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the ugly sobs that she wanted to let out. She wouldn't give herself the luxury of showing Chris how much he hurt her.

The girl got up from the bed in one quick movement, grabbing her pillow and heading towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Chris's voice echoed harshly behind her, his body rising from the mattress quickly.

"I'll sleep in the living room." Y/N responded curtly, turning the handle with ease before walking through the door, slamming it, feeling more alone than ever amidst the multitude of turbulent emotions.

She could feel her heart being crushed a little more when she didn't hear Chris call for her again, let alone try to reach her.

The stairs leading to the living room were silent, and her pillow clutched to her chest as a last vestige of comfort in a world that seemed to be falling apart around her. Each step up echoed like a lonely echo in an emotional void that seemed to swallow her whole.

Upon reaching the living room, Y/N found refuge on the empty couch. She curled into the soft upholstery, hugging the pillow tightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks silently. The phone rested next to her, emitting a dim light that wouldn't turn off, almost begging her to pick it up again.

Hours dragged by like centuries as Y/N fought the ghosts of her own mind.

At some point, she had given up resisting and was on her TikTok again. The algorithm seemed to hate her, delivering her frequent videos of Chris and Tara, which were like a sharp dagger in her heart.

They would really look beautiful together.

Dawn fell heavily upon her, but sleep refused to welcome her into its comforting arms. Instead, she found herself trapped in a whirlwind of torturous thoughts, her mind pounding incessantly with doubts and questions about her relationship with Chris.

Until her brain shuts down completely, letting tiredness win.

At 3 a.m., in the darkness of the night, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the room. Chris was there, his tired face etched with worry and regret.

His eyes quickly found Y/N's figure lying on the couch, already asleep, curled up and shivering slightly from the cold. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the swelling that surrounded them, the traces of tears on her cheeks and her still damp face. Next to her, her phone repeatedly played one of the videos she had watched before falling asleep.

A lump formed in Chris's throat. He intensely blamed himself for not having thought before acting and, much less, noticing how much his actions had affected his girlfriend.

With hesitant steps, he approached her, feeling the weight of his own anguish on his shoulders.

Gently, Chris turned off her phone, cutting the endless cycle of pain that had consumed Y/N. He then crouched down beside her, studying her peaceful face with a mixture of love and pain.

With a resigned sigh, the boy carefully took her into his arms, hooking them around her back and behind her knees, feeling the weight of her fragile body against his own chest. Y/N hummed softly in response to his touch but didn't fully wake up.

Chris carried her down the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the soft light from the lamp bathed the room in yellow tones. Tenderly, he placed her on the soft mattress, covering her with the comforter carefully so as not to wake her.

Y/N shifted slightly under Chris's touch and the new surface beneath her limbs, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of discomfort. She looked restless, as if she were immersed in a nightmare.

Chris watched her for a moment, feeling the weight of his own harsh words weigh on him like an anchor. He knew he had hurt Y/N deeply, and the pain of seeing her suffer was almost unbearable.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her, his hand reaching for her with a tentative touch. Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes finally slowly opening to meet Chris's. She fought the urge to get up and leave the room again, her anger at Chris's actions and sadness in her mind, making her want to avoid him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sharing a silent understanding that transcended words, Y/N making the decision to let him say what he wanted.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I was insensitive and selfish. I didn't want to hurt you, I acted on impulse and completely without thinking. This whole situation is not silly if it hurts and bothers you, and I promise that we can talk better about what you saw and how you felt, and solve this together... Just please, give me this chance?"

Y/N blinked slowly, her eyes locked on Chris's as she processed his words. For a moment, she felt the weight of hurt and disappointment pressing against her, but then she saw the sincerity in Chris's eyes, the pure, unconditional love he had always offered her.

And in that moment, she knew that forgiveness was the only good choice to make. With a sigh, she squeezed Chris's hand tenderly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

"Just one chance. I want you to fix what you did and do it right this time."

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My requests are open! Please read my rules before sending anything ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 12 ] || [ Chapter 14 ]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.9K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: the start.

Chapter 13: Yes, and?

Once Ghost touched down from the mission, and after being seen in the infirmary for a couple of nicks and gashes, he went, as usual, to Price’s office to debrief. As he walked out, his one thought was that he needed to get out of base and take his phone to be repaired… Or maybe get a new one.

Normally, he wouldn’t care so much, but ever since the two of you started texting constantly after that night together, he couldn’t help but be attached to the little device. Even Soap had made a joke about how addicted to his phone Simon was and how it must all be “thanks to his little date that he refuses to tell me about”.

As he rounded the corner to his hallway, he spotted Gaz leaning on the wall next to the door to Ghost’s quarters.

“Gaz.” Ghost greeted with a nod as he pulled his I.D. card from a pocket in his vest and slid it into the card slot, popping the door open.

“Sir.” Gaz acknowledged as he pulled away from the wall and stood there, arms hanging by his sides, waiting.

Ghost went leaned against the door jamb. “Something you’d like to say?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” Gaz said with a nod and cleared his throat softly. “Your… friend DMed me on Tinder looking for you.”

Ghost closed his eyes and sighed for a moment before he opened them again and stared at Gaz. “And what did you say?”

“The truth. Your phone broke and either way you had left for a mission so you wouldn’t reply for a while.” He answered.

Ghost nodded. “Thanks for that. Didn’t think I’d leave them worried sick.” He said sincerely and began to turn to duck into his room.

“I also went out with them.” Gaz added right as Ghost crossed the threshold.

That stopped Ghost in his tracks and the bigger man turned to look at Gaz over his shoulder. “You did?”

“Yeah… Went for lunch… Got curious once I learned you two had a date, sir.” Kyle admitted, lowering his voice out of respect for Ghost’s privacy.

Full of respect, Gaz was. Ghost always appreciated that about the sergeant. Except right now.

“And since when do you have a right to be curious about my life? Is it any of your business?” Ghost asked, though his tone was calm and deadpan, not hostile or angry at all.

“Since I matched with them before anyone else… And you moved in after Captain Price.” Gaz retorted.

“Are you trying to call dibs over them, like Johnny did?” Ghost asked as he took a step to stand over Gaz.

“Maybe?” Gaz replied and shrugged, dipping his head back a bit to look the taller man in the eyes. “I mean…” He trailed off and shrugged. “They’re nice, sweet, kind, caring, funny, easy to talk to…”

“Yes, and?” Ghost retorted. “What are you trying to say, sergeant?” He asked, his voice wavering just a bit.

“I’m just… asking permission, I guess.” Gaz said, his tone the most cordial and reverent he could.

“Permission?” Ghost asked and had his skull not been in the way, Gaz would’ve seen his eyebrow cocking.

“To keep seeing them.” The younger man clarified.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed as he looked Gaz up and down. “You’re asking what exactly? To share them?” He asked as he curled his head a bit to the side, as if to hear him better.

“I guess so.” Kyle replied. “Is that alright?”

Simon’s lip curled in contemplation before he nodded curtly. “I guess I can’t object to that.” He conceded.

“But does it bother you?” Kyle asked in earnest, his brows furrowing a bit in concern.

Ghost shook his head a bit. “I don’t have a claim to them.” He said calmly.

“With all due respect… That’s not what I’m asking, sir.” Kyle insisted.

With a deep breath, Simon took a step into his quarters and gestured the sergeant inside. Then, he shut the door behind them and leaned himself against the wall by the door.

After a deep breath, Ghost shook his head. “Bothers me a little.” He admitted. Gaz nodded in understanding.

Another deep breath later, Ghost continued. “They… make me feel… human.” He explained and turned his head to look away. “Outside of the soldier, outside of the Ghost.” He said in a tone that entailed more than simple friendship.

“There’s no expectations. No one asking me to kill. No one telling me ‘Jump!’ only for me to reply ‘How high?’. It’s just…” He trailed off.

Gaz looked down at his feet and rocked back and forth, a bit awkwardly. It was the first time he and Simon had a conversation as deep as this… Having never quite felt that the Lieutenant let him in or saw him as worthy of something other than small talk and jokes over comms.

“I see.” The younger one said and sighed. “I… I can give up on it, if you wan-”

“Don’t.” Ghost interrupted and looked right at Gaz. Then, he took a deep breath and scratched at his exposed forearm, his gloved fingers dragging along the tattooed skin.

“I’m going to buy a new phone. Or get mine repaired…” He explained. “But… after that I was planning on going to see them… tonight. If they accept.” He said with a sigh.

“Maybe order take out… Game and watch movies…” Ghost said and with the tone of someone who’s making a great effort to speak, he looks at Gaz. “Do you wanna come with?” He asked in earnest.

Kyle had already texted you, per Simon’s request, to warn you of their intentions to grab takeout and head over… And you seemed quite giddy. So it didn’t surprise him when you opened the door for them with a smile.

“Hi!” You greeted them, took the bag of takeout food, and ushered them inside, instructing them to take off their shoes. Simon didn’t even need to be told, he already took initiative to do so.

He had made an effort, Kyle had noticed, and put on a white henley shirt, a leather jacket, and black jeans… but still kept his stupid bloody mask on. Kyle himself was wearing an oversized purple-ish jumper and blue jeans.

Kyle observed quietly as Simon shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair in the ‘dining’ area of your sitting room. “You bought a new candle.” He announced as he looked at the small lit flame on the coffee table.

“I did!” You acknowledged as you carefully opened the take-out containers and spread them all around the coffee-table. “Don’t just stay there, Kyle!” You told him, prompting the lad to finally move away from the entryway door, approaching you to sit on the couch.

Him and Ghost sat on opposite sides of the couch, leaving just enough for you to get squished in the middle, sandwiched by them. You each grabbed your food and, at first, it was incredibly awkward. The silence too large to allow for any of you to truly feel comfortable.

You looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes darting as if you were following a tennis game. Above your head, the two men also shot glances at you and one another.

“So… elephant in the room.” You quipped as you carefully bit a Jamaican patty and chewed it. That prompted both the men to look at you. “What’s going on?” You asked them.

“We both enjoyed our time with you.” Simon answered quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it startled Kyle.

“So you both wanted to hangout with me?” You asked as you looked between the two of them.

“We both like you.” Simon continued in his round of honesty. Kyle’s head snapped toward Simon, brown eyes widened. Simon was, however, completely absorbed in his meal.

Kyle was pretty sure he was right when he joked that you had Ghost under some sort of spell. Never had he seen Simon be so open and honest. Direct, sure, Ghost was always directly. But… sincere like this? Never.

“I like you both too.” You replied in earnest as you took another bite of your food.

“Not like that, sweetheart.” Simon replied and finally glanced over at you while dusting off his fingers on a napkin. “I mean we’d both date you if we could.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widened a bit and you blinked away the shock.

The way Ghost looked at you… That’s when he finally understood what he had meant when he spoke about you. There was a fondness in those usually cold, dead brown eyes…

Kyle felt like he was intruding. Like it was wrong of him to be weaseling his way in between the two of you out of some childish claim he claimed to have over you… Because the way Simon made him understand how good you were for him.

He sat in a relaxed way, legs sprawled, thigh touching yours, wearing clothes he could’ve sworn Ghost would never even own, and you never once flinched in his presence. Granted, you weren’t aware of all the blood in his hands, in their hands… But you acted as if Ghost was just some bloke you were dating and not.. well… Ghost.

“Kyle?” Simon quipped and it finally rose him out of his thoughts.

“Hm? Sorry?” He asked, noticing he had spaced out.

“I asked if you two were jealous of one another and that’s why you’re so tense.” You repeated yourself. “Simon said he wouldn’t call it ‘jealousy’.”

Kyle and Simon shot each other a glance, as if wordlessly communicating. It was something they were used to doing in the field, but this was a completely different circumstance.

Sighing, Gaz shifted around in his seat. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy either… But…” He trailed off. “Well, I saw how… how happy you make Simon.” He admitted.

Simon’s eyes, which had momentarily hardened, softened again as Kyle spoke. “And well… you made me… feel it too. It’s… easy to be around you. Easy to spend time laughing with you and always want more.” The younger man continued.

Your own eyes softened too and your cheeks warmed up a bit with his kind words. “So in a way I felt like… well… like I deserved to try to date you too.” He explained. “But it’s tense because, well, neither of us want to share.”

With a chuckle, you leaned back against the couch and covered your mouth with your hand. “Shared? What am I… some video game?” You joked. “Are you going to go to your mum to tattle when the other doesn’t let you have enough time with me?” You teased.

Immediately, all tension was gone, both of them rolling their eyes and scoffing. “Shut it, you.” Simon grumbled, amused.

“Most people would be honored to have two guys want to date them, you know?” Gaz remarked.

“Fuck that, most people would be honored to have me want to date them.” Simon quipped.

“Oh, you get down from your high horse!” You scolded him and nudged him with your arm, which made Simon chuckle.

“After this, we could watch a movie!” You announced as you resumed eating your Jamaican patty.

“Good idea.” Simon praised you.

“Not another horror movie.” You added.

“You have very bad taste.” He quipped.

Strangely enough, watching you bicker with Simon only made Kyle feel warmer than he already did. He still felt like he was intruding but… the bickering was familiar. He saw that often between Johnny and Simon…

“How can I have bad taste? I literally like you both.” You remarked.

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#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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littlerequiem · 13 days

Text

— midnight ventures ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x f!reader (18+ MDNI)

You shouldn’t have looked and he shouldn’t have been there. But Fate can have a funny sense of humor. The punchline that night? Stumbling onto your naked Captain in a hot spring… and doing something about it.

content — Rated E - Canon universe, Snowed-in, Winter, Hot Springs, Power Dynamics, Smut, Orgasm Delay, Oral (f. receiving), Authority Kink, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Biting, Multiple Orgasms, Light dom/sub dynamics, Soft!Dom Levi (wc: 11.7k).

Thanks to my BETA @stellar-smth. Written for @sixpennydame following this prompt: "I can't get enough of you."

Crossposted on AO3.

The mountain is a lonely, cruelly cold place.

Up here, everything is covered by planes of white, endless valleys rolling and coming. Icicles cling onto winding branches, while roots are drowned in bitter cold. Even nature seems to be at a complete standstill here.

Getting lost here would be ill-advised.

And yet, here you are, stranded, with the last person you ever expected to be with.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

“That was our last one, sir,” you say as you lower the flare gun, securing it to the harness strapped to your wool jacket. Gray smoke, usually reserved to warn of the presence of abnormals, now towers above you. It was a last hope to signal someone to your location and unfortunately, no answer has come.

You are, in every sense of the word, lost.

"You grew up around here, didn't you?" comes Levi's voice, that his gravelly and magnetic tone that always makes you instantly zero-in on him. "Any of this look familiar?”

You meet his impassive stare, and you try to ignore the familiar flutters forming in the pit of your stomach.

“I did. But I’m sorry, sir, I don’t recognize these parts,” you answer evenly, glancing at the footprints in the snow. “Everything looks the same to me.”

“I see.”

You rub your hands over your covered arms, trying to create your own means of warmth. "My father used to say these mountains were a death trap come winter. I suppose there was some truth to his words.”

“A death trap.” Levi clicks his tongue. “A novelty in our lives, I’m sure.”

Your chuckle beneath your breath.

Somewhere to the north of here is a military outpost, the destination of your supply round. Unfortunately, as things stand now, you won't reach it on time. Perhaps if you had ODM gear or horses, you might have already reached it. But winter in the mountains renders both useless: the hooks don't secure properly because of the ice, and horses aren't trained to navigate such terrains.

Hence, you are doing everything by foot.

“It's going to be dark soon,” Levi points out in a monotone voice, as if this situation wasn’t a matter of life-and-death.

You stare at the darkening clouds over the horizon. "Yeah."

Levi kicks some snow with his boot, white particles clouding the air. “Let’s head back down, I saw a cabin on our way up.”

“Yes, sir.”

With his directives now laid out, you begin the walk down. Levi sets the pace, keeping a diligent speed that ensures your bodies stay warm and your minds stay sharp. For a while, that’s all there is to it. Nothing but the crunching of footsteps in snow and the wind howling across white nothing.

The silence gives you a moment to yourself, one where you're able to take in your surroundings, including the sight of your Captain next to you.

Like you, Levi’s appearance is marked by the cold. His eyes, red-rimmed; eyelashes, glistening white; his cheeks, flushed with a rosy hue; his hair, flowing and ebbing midnight.

It suits him, this look. All dressed in white, he looks beautiful.

Not exactly a surprise, you suppose. Your Captain could wear a rag and still look good.

It’s an objective, albeit unfortunate, truth. Your Captain is beautiful, magnetic, striking… and you happen to have a big, fat crush on him.

It’s not like it's a secret. You think everyone in the Corps knows at this point. The brats from the 104th love to tease you about it. So does Commander Hange, for that matter—somehow, you think it is no coincidence the two of you ended up paired for this mission.

Meddlers, they all are.

"Oi, focus on the road," Levi grumbles.

Your cheeks warm, feeling like your Captain caught you red handed with your daydreams, even if you know that, objectively speaking, there's no way he did (Levi is many things, but a mind reader isn't one of them. Thank the Walls for that.)

Despite knowing that, you can't help but stammer, "S-sir?"

"You're not focused on the road. You're going to slip and hurt yourself."

And he's right, of course. It is slippery. Dangerous, even.

But how exactly does your Captain even know you aren't focused on the path? He's not looking your way.

(Over the year, you've learned this hard truth: Levi always knows, somehow.)

A snow storm has picked up by the time the cabin comes into view. Relief expands in your chest; you were just starting to lose the feeling of your toes.

The shelter appears to be deserted. Out of courtesy, you knock several times, checking the perimeters for signs of life, but when it’s clear no one is inside, your Captain decides that survival precedes politeness.

He surprises you with a new skill: opening locked doors.

“Dare I ask when you learned to pick locks, s-sir?” you stutter as he uses the tools from his bag. His movements are nimble and practiced, like a well-oiled machine. “S-secret skill from the Underground?”

From his crouched position, your Captain shoots you a blank look. “You may not ask.”

With a click, the door swings open.

You enter, raising your oil lamp to illuminate the inside. A half-decorated living room with a dining table, a sofa, and a fireplace. There are additional rooms to the back.

"Nobody’s lived here for months,” you comment, sniveling.

“They intended to come back.” He bobs his head to the right. "There's fresh wood and supplies over there."

You hum in agreement, teeth chattering. “It’s-s common enough for folks beneath the mountains to have a second house up here. Maybe they plan on coming up come s-summer.”

Levi grunts out a sound, presumably not caring too much as to why the house is well-equipped, but glad that it is all the same. Either way, you're clearly trespassing on someone's property, and you hope that whoever this house belongs to won't mind soldiers occupying it for one night.

Knowing the Captain, they'll probably find it in a cleaner state than the one they left it in, anyway.

But before that, your Captain seems to have other plans.

“Before we do anything else, we need to take care of you,” he declares.

Your Captain’s gray eyes then narrow onto you, roving up and down. His attention makes you straighten in place, feeling uneasy to be in his spotlight. Levi closes the door with a swing of a leg. His stare never strays from his thorough inspection.

A shiver licks your spine. “S-sir?”

“You’re shaking like a leaf. Strip, now.”

Your stomach stupidly flips at Levi’s orders.

"You need to change into something dry," he adds in a rueful tone.

You chuckle nervously while your brain goes into overdrive.

... Shit.

This is going to be a long night, isn't it?

Trying to push aside all the ways you feel overwhelmed by Levi's presence (you are, after all, fucking cold), you begin to remove your ice-coated gloves. This, however, proves to be an exceptionally painful endeavor—you suck in a breath when you realize you can't completely bend your fingers. Oh, no. Why can’t you bend your fingers?

“Damn it, you’re like an icicle,” comes Levi’s sharp voice behind you. Before you can make sense of anything, you feel your Captain by your right side, seizing your hands to inspect them.

You wince.

Levi is right, of course. Your fingers feel as though they are frozen, though you know they’re not. You can still move them, just painfully.

Still, you’re not exactly feeling peachy right now. You’re visibly trembling and your balance is growing more wobbly. And why is your vision so hazy?

“Why didn’t you speak up earlier?” Levi scolds. He shrugs off his own gloves and scatters them to the floor. He grabs your hands into his own, rubbing to create friction.

You stare, watching his slender fingers—rough and calloused and yet, so gentle—encompass your own. It’s the first time he touches you like this, and even if there’s nothing romantic about the gesture, your heart somersaults all the same.

(Stress and romantic attraction cause such similar reactions, you note in passing.)

“I’m s-sorry, sir. I really didn’t realize I was feeling so cold,” you say.

“Do you have something dry to change into?"

You nod.

“Good. Go change while I get the fireplace going,” he tells you.

You do just that.

While Levi works on the chimney, you discover that the rest of the house consists of two bedrooms and a lavatory. You don’t waste time inspecting them; you quickly lock yourself in a room. The first layer to go is your coat, but everything else is eventually removed. You change into dry pants and a sweater retrieved from your bag. Then you lay out your belongings, as well as Levi’s scattered coat and gloves, on wooden chairs, placing them near the starting fire, hoping (praying) that they dry by tomorrow morning.

Levi’s just finished throwing several logs into the fire. He stands up to meet you, looking at you through a half-lidded stare.

Unlike you, your Captain's clothing is relatively dry; only his gray shirt sports wet patches, the fabric clinging to his chest. You try not to stare at his well-defined muscles for too long.

(Even if you really, really, really wish you could.)

The beginning of crackling amber hovers on one side of Levi’s face, creating sunken shadows on the opposite side.

“Looks like cleaning will need to wait. You’re trembling like a drowned rat,” he says.

You conceal a smile. “L-like the ones in the Underground, s-sir?”

“Yeah, and I’ve seen enough for a lifetime.” His eyes narrow to slithers. “Just… sit your ass down on the sofa. I’ll find blankets and make tea.” You stare at him blankly, which he seems to take as some kind of signal to press the urgency in his tone. “Fucking stay awake, got it?”

You give him a confused look, but soon catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the windows. Ah. You're not looking so well—your lips are chapped, and there's shadows plaguing your eyes.

Levi finds several blankets in a wardrobe. With your help, he moves the sofa from one side of the room to the next, positioning it right in front of the fire. Levi forces you to sit (“But sir, I can—” “Stop arguing and sit the fuck down.”), and soon, he layers covers over your shoulders.

The sofa shifts under his weight as he sits next to you.

“You alright?” he asks.

You nod, still groggy. You're still cold, but the tea is helping a little.

Still, you should really try to warm up now. You attempt to take a sip of your drink, but in your excitement, you forget the fact that fresh tea tends to be, in fact, piping hot.

It trickles down to a burning sensation down your throat. “Pah, I think I just burned my tongue.”

“Now I'm starting to think you take pleasure in inflicting pain on yourself.”

“N-no." You gulp nervously. "I just didn’t notice the tea was so hot.”

“It's tea."

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm still not thinking straight. It's just s-still so cold in here.”

You do your best to hug the cup of tea with both hands, still audibly shivering, while snuggling into the blankets Levi threw over you. In front of you, the hearth continues to warm, staining the room with a glow that's oddly comforting.

A log splinters.

Then, Levi’s voice barrels through: “Hand over the tea.”

You turn towards him.

Your Captain is fixing you with a severe frown. Without questioning his orders, you hand him the drink. You think he might add some lukewarm water to it to make it drinkable, but to your surprise, he places both cups on the cold floor close to the edge of the sofa.

A confused look draws on your face.

What now?

“Fucking come here already,” your Captain orders.

And he gestures with two fingers in his direction.

That’s when you realize what Levi’s offering. He’s… beckoning you closer.

He wants to warm you up.

You gape at him.

This isn't happening. Is it?

But apparently not interested in watching you mull this over, Levi doesn’t leave you time to consider his proposal. He yanks on the blankets draped over your shoulders, reeling you close. You heave as the back of your skull collides with his collarbone, and you readjust against the crook of his neck.

“S’ just for a moment,” he mumbles under his breath, arms settling by your side.

And who are you to contest that? He's your Captain, you can hardly disobey him (well, you know you could disobey this particular order, but it's too late for that now).

So you let him tuck you close, and you discover that Levi is warm, and you think how nice that feels after hours of walking in cold weather. In fact, Levi’s body rather reminds you of a furnace right now, burning at its strongest in winter. His embrace creates a little cocoon of body heat just for you; soon, all you can smell is him, the scent of tea leaves and cotton enveloping you into a lovely state of serenity.

(You always did love Levi's scent.)

With enough elements grounding you, you let your head roll back, pressing against his right shoulder blade, trying to ignore his steel muscles (that you can, admittedly, finally feel to some degree—and they are just as hard as you always imagined they would be).

“Fuck, you’re freezing.” Your Captain’s voice rumbles against your back, presumably feeling the cold sting of your cheek as you nestle closer.

In response, Levi’s hands slot over your forearms, something careful and hesitant about his touch. You hold your breath, feeling his fingers spread against your sweater. There, he begins to rub up and down, repeated motions that create tiny tingles down their path.

The added friction renders you speechless.

It was one thing to be so close to him before; now, your Captain is essentially stroking you. His attempts to create warmth spread like wildfire, and in an absence of coherent thoughts, you let the fire consume you.

Soon, even the fireplace growing in size doesn’t seem to phase you. It licks the cold air, spreading from all sides, but it is nothing compared to the burning sensations simmering across your neck, your cheeks, and down to your core. It’s like Levi’s touch is commanding it everywhere, this warmth, leaving you flustered and confused.

Then Levi’s fingers make contact with your bare wrist, and you jolt.

Because unlike the rest of his body, his hands are freezing.

“What… Captain! Your hands are—w-wha—” You let your voice trail, heart plummeting in your chest, when you come to a realization, a realization that makes you a little frustrated. “Hey! You were cold all along as well!”

A clicking sound resonates against the shell of your ear. “Stop yapping.”

You try to move to face him, but Levi grabs your wrists with an iron grip, keeping you locked against the expanse of his chest, making his order quite clear.

“Quit squirming and stay put,” he mutters.

“But, Captain, you gave me all the blankets,” you complain, for once foregoing your respect for him and letting your concern speak volumes instead. A decided frown settled between your brows. “What would I say to Hange if their best soldier died trying to save me?”

“I wasn't going to die."

"But what if you did?"

"Then I’m sure you’d have found a creative way to spin it.”

“You still shouldn’t have done that. I’m not worth Humanity’s Strongest.”

“Stop saying stupid shit and focus on staying warm.”

You sigh. Your Captain and his stubborn ways. He was never good at putting his needs on the line, and years of military service haven’t changed this fact.

Still, not finding the energy to argue back, you allow the conversation to die out.

It is only a minute later, as you try to relax back in your position that you notice that Levi’s breath has mellowed out as well. In fact, your Captain’s attempts at creating frictions have slowed in urgency. His pace is now languid; his fingers are wrapped around your shoulders while his thumbs slide up and down, up and down. Slow.

You imagine that the two of you rather look like two people lounging on a sofa after a long day's work.

Like lovers.

“Tea's ready,” comes Levi's husky voice, making you jump in your seat.

You swallow down all the feelings bubbling at the back of your throat—the ones begging and begging to be let out—keeping your face trained ahead.

“R-right. Um, thank you for that, Captain,” you say. "I feel all better now."

Breaking away from his embrace, you try to avoid his burning gaze. You grab both cups, handing him one without sparring him a glance.

Instead, you move to sit at the edge of your seat, far away from your Captain. Between the two of you, the covers bundle together, discarded.

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

You stare at your flustered reflection in the tea cup. "Mm?"

“Why the hell does it smell like old eggs in here?”

That takes you right out of it.

You finally look up at Levi, meeting his lidded stare. Old eggs?

“... Sorry?”

“The fucking stench,” he mutters, wrinkling his noise. “It reeks in here.”

And that’s when you realize that Levi is talking about the smell in the air, the scent that’s lingered everywhere since you entered the house, but you were too focused on everything else to notice.

An odor you know well enough.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, “that’s the smell of a hot spring.”

“What?”

You finish your cup of tea in one gulp, now just perfectly warm and drinkable, and place it back on the floor. “I think this house might have one.”

You swiftly get up, darting to the bedroom you changed in earlier.

And sure enough, as you pull the curtains open, you notice a familiar sight. The back gardens of the house, all dusted in white, are painted with steam and water.

A hot spring.

.... And you are, you realize, a complete idiot.

Why didn't you think of this before? You could have simply taken a dip to warm up.

“What’s that?” Levi’s monotone voice comes from behind. He’s close to you, hovering just behind your shoulders, but you do not turn around. You’re certain that if you do, that you will find him bathed by the moonlight and that you won’t be able to form a single coherent sentence.

“A natural body of water, sir. It’s what Commander Hange was talking about in their briefing for this mission. Hot springs are found all over these mountains..." You bite your lower lip. "I didn’t realize we were right next to a hot spring. I could have spared you all the effort in warming me up.”

“No thanks, I’ve no intentions in having us swim around in something that smells so foul,” he grumbles. “Besides, it’s not good to go from two extreme temperatures.”

You hum. “True enough.”

“It smells vile.”

“It’s the sulfur. It’s great for muscle tension.”

“Sounds dubious.”

“I promise, it’s true!”

Forgetting your own advice, you turn around to drive your point home, and you realize that Levi is close—that you could count his eyelashes, if you wanted. But you don’t, because normal soldiers don’t think about counting the eyelashes of their superior.

“W-When I was young," you stammer, "my parents sometimes brought me up to the mountains to swim in them. They’re perfectly safe.”

Levi makes a face. “I’ll pass. But I guess it’s good to know the stench isn’t coming from the house itself.”

You snort.

Levi’s eyes seem to soften, half-lidded as they were. And just as you suspected, the moonlight trickling in really does something to your Captain’s face, bathing in with a silver hue that brings out the blue in his eyes.

Don’t look at his lips, don’t look at his lips, don’t lips…

“Looks like titan steam,” the Captain suddenly comments, looking at the steam fogging the windows beyond your shoulders.

He takes a step back.

You let out a much-needed breath, one you didn’t realize you were holding all along. “Uh-huh. It does.”

You glance back towards the hot spring, noticing that the snowstorm is close to subsiding, a cloak of black draping the sky beyond.

“Well, I suppose we should get to work, now that we’re all warmed up, huh?” you suggest.

“Yeah. Let's get this dusty-old house spotless.”

That night, you can't fall asleep.

This in itself isn’t a rare occurrence—most Scouts have somewhat questionable sleeping habits. Between the world of titans and watching comrades die, there's plenty of reasons for soldiers to struggle with sleeping.

The problem is, at least tonight, the culprit isn’t insomnia.

It’s… something else.

Something that's lead your thoughts astray.

Maybe it's everything that happened with the Captain earlier, maybe it's the snowy setting that feels oddly romantic, maybe it's the cold that zapped your brain but... you keep on imagining what it’d be like to have Levi next to you, doing indescribable things to you. You imagine him turning on his pillow, taking his time to take in every line of your exposed skin. He’d unravel you with his gaze alone, you’re sure of it. Would he bestow the same intensity he reserves in training? Would his fingers hook around your limbs with the same ferocity? You think they might.

You think—

You groan, cutting your fantasies short. You and your damn fixation on Captain Levi—the one person who couldn’t possibly be less within your reach. This crush of yours must be a cruel joke from Maria, Rose, Sina… maybe all three of them combined.

More importantly, why is it all resurfacing now of all times? It's been fucking years that this one-sided crush of yours has been, just, there. In all this time, you've managed to reign in your emotions.

So why? Why won't your mind stop wandering into dangerous territories? Why can't you shut it down even now?

Whatever the reason may be, you need to find a solution to your... predicament. You suppose you could try to be quiet about it here, to bring yourself the release you desire, but you fear your Captain hearing you, given that he's sleeping in the room next to yours. You can’t imagine being caught in the act of pleasuring yourself.

No.

You need to find somewhere private.

Somewhere like…

Oh.

The hot springs.

Of course—why didn’t you think about it before?

At once, you shuffle to a seated position in your bed, glancing out of the windows of the bedroom. The weather has cleared up by now, freckles of delicate white weaving through the air. Just beyond it, the hot spring awaits.

Serene. Lovely. Inviting.

Just the kind of spot you've been dreaming of.

Sure, your Captain wasn’t too keen on the smell, but you can wash afterwards.

Yes, this will have to do.

With your grand master-plan now laid out, you quickly spring into action. You gather your belongings: a towel, boots, an oil lamp.

In the main room, the remains of the fireplace are still dim and warm. Levi is occupying the second bedroom, and his door is closed shut—just as you’d hoped. It’s well past midnight, he must be asleep.

You grin to yourself. So far, your plan is a resounding success.

Outside, the air hangs still. The blizzard's fury has long passed, leaving only delicate snowflakes that twirl gracefully through the air. You pause to savor the newfound peace, taking in the picturesque landscape: rolling hills blanketed in pristine white, majestic forests embracing the mountain's gorges.

And the hot springs.

Nestled nearby, the cabin's springs stretch impressively, their shape narrow and serpentine rather than wide. Smooth rocks jut out over the water's edges, with pines and shrubs clinging to them. Together with the rising steam, they weave a misty veil that softens your view of the night.

Shedding your clothes, you quickly step in.

And oh... the initial touch of warm water is everything you'd hoped for and more. It sends a delightful trail of goosebumps trailing across your body.

The hot spring is shallow enough for ease, yet deep enough to envelop you comfortably as you sit. As you wade deeper, the water laps gently just above your chest, soothing the day’s weariness from your muscles. You let out a contented sigh, a particular knot in your spine coming undone.

This is the respite you've craved these past hours, especially after today's strenuous hike. It's a pity, really, that your Captain was so against the hot springs. This might have done him some good.

You venture further in with a smile plastered on your face. The clear waters mirror the starlit sky above, inviting you to explore every tranquil corner of this secluded paradise.

It isn't until you're midway across the hot spring, shoulders dipped beneath the water, that a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you.

Light.

Movement.

Noise.

With the instincts of a trained Scout, you crouch into the water. Through the shrubs, you suddenly notice a pool of yellow light, too intense and artificial to be anything natural. Strange. It bears the distinct glow of the oil lamps used by the Survey Corps. More troubling still, there's a subtle sound of splashing water.

Your gaze flicks anxiously to where your clothes lie scattered, a distance away. You didn't bring a weapon with you. Should you attempt to go back?

Before you can think further on what to do next, your peripheral catches a glimpse of pale skin.

You freeze.

In the thickening steam, rising like delicate spirals into the chilly air, it’s hard to trust your eyes. This could easily be a hallucination.

But as the figure emerges, shoulders and back surfacing smoothly from the water, the reality sets in sharply.

It's him.

Captain Levi.

The man you’ve had a crush on for as long as you remember.

The man who you were just fantasizing about.

The man who’s currently naked a short distance away from you.

Oh.

Oh no.

This is bad.

Levi is clearly out for a swim. Apparently unaware of your presence, he pauses at the edge of the spring closest to a hill. He tilts his head back, hand brushing back wet hair. He looks up at the sky, oddly peaceful.

(The altitude is so high that it almost looks like your Captain could touch stars if he wanted to.)

But then your attention is drawn inexorably to the droplets cascading down his bare chest, and the full implications of your predicament crash over you.

Sure, water conceals Levi’s lower body, but his upper body leaves little left to the imagination. The curves of his shoulders, sloping down towards well-sculpted biceps. His chest, marked with scars and lines left by ODM use. His abs, well-defined and toned—a feat you know is only possible due to his diligent training ethic.

Already, warning bells ring in your brain.

What are you doing still standing here? By some miracle, Levi hasn’t noticed you. But with his perceptive senses, it won’t be long before he does.

And when that happens, you’re in trouble. Not only are you naked and gawking, but you also have no real reason to be here.

You could try to tell him you couldn't sleep. If anyone could understand, it might be Levi. The man rarely sleeps.

But you’re not entirely sure your Captain wouldn’t see right through your deception. He's sharp like that.

That can't happen. You can't admit to him the real reason you came out here: to touch yourself while thinking of him.

You need to leave. Now.

Which is why you carefully start to back away, eyes trained on him—praying he doesn't notice you.

Unfortunately, while you miraculously slipped past Levi’s attention the first time around, your luck has run out. His focus shifts, honed like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.

Then comes his voice, slicing through the quiet of the night. “Who’s there?”

The familiar timbre sends shivers down your spine and tightens the knot between your legs.

Panic sets in.

Desperate, you dive underwater, hoping to blend into the natural shroud provided by the spring.

But Levi isn’t called Humanity’s Strongest for nothing. With instincts sharper than a knife, you see the blurred outline of his pale body trudge through the water at an alarming speed.

Shit.

Levi’s voice rumbles through the water, but the meaning of his words are drowned by the elements. Your lungs burn as you begin to swim away, the mingling bubbles and steam clouding around you, the sulfuric scent of the spring sharp in your nostrils.

You pump every ounce of strength in your frantic escape.

Then a strong hand clamps around your arm, and you're dragged upwards.

“Oi!”

Instinctively, your hand lashes out, grabbing hold as your body is yanked forward. You gasp, air filling your lungs, the cold biting at your wet skin.

Your eyes round when you realize what your hand has landed on: one of Levi’s biceps.

You glance up, eyes locking with your Captain's surprised face.

A choked sound escapes you.

“What...” He says your first name, a frown settling between his militant brows. There's a lull in the conversation, like he doesn't quite believe what he's seeing, but his barking tone soon replaces it. “What the hell are you doing?”

Moments later, his lips press together in a taut line, and his biting grip tightens. He pushes back so that you're pressed against the edge of the hot spring, where he lets you go.

You land with a splash.

At once, you attempt to cover yourself using your hands, dipping into the water so that you're almost entirely submerged. Levi looms over you, apparently not feeling discomfort from being naked before you. The water level arrives below his waist, and you can’t help but notice a trail of trimmed black hair that starts just above his navel.

You want to scream.

Your eyes fleet back up. His expression is inscrutable, but his eyes carry an intensity that you've only seen reserved for training sessions.

“You have five seconds to explain yourself,” Levi grumbles, magnetic and sharp.

“I—” you begin, only to close your mouth again.

You… what? You can’t tell Levi the truth. You would rather drown than admit to your lewd intentions.

But you also have to say something.

“—I didn’t realize you were in here,” you manage with some difficulty.

There. That's not a lie, is it? You wouldn't dare to come in here if you knew your Captain would be around.

Unfortunately, your answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

“And why aren’t you asleep?” he asks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching the steam envelop Levi’s torso. “I couldn’t sleep, sir.”

“We’ve got a long hike ahead of us tomorrow. You can’t be dead weight because you wanted to go on a midnight stroll.”

You hate this… this feeling that you are letting him down. It’s everything you strive to avoid when it comes to your Captain. You’re proud to be in his squad and you pride yourself on being the best soldier you can be.

“That won't happen, sir. I can carry my weight.” You try to sound resolute, calm and collected. You fear you may be failing. “And Captain… I find it a bit odd that you're saying all of this to me.”

“What?”

Walls. You’re treading dangerous territories.

You clear your throat, waving a hand in the air. “Didn't you say the water was unhygienic? That it reeked? That we should both go to sleep?”

"Get to the point."

"I just assumed..." you mumble, chewing at the inside of your cheeks.

"Oh, I see." Something flashes in his eyes. Torture. "You hoped you could just do as you please, that the curfew rules didn't apply to you. Hate to break off your fantasies, soldier, but that's not going to happen. I'm here and you're caught."

"Well, you also need sleep, so..." you attempt, dipping your chin away from him and into the water. Levi's eyes narrow. You clear your throat. “I’m just speaking out of concern.”

“Then don’t concern yourself.”

You grimace. You're really not doing too well with all of this, are you?

You need to turn the tide, somehow.

“I apologize, Captain. But I don’t think I’m in the wrong," you try to reason. "My track record speaks for itself: I’ve never faltered, even when running on fumes. You know I haven’t. I couldn’t sleep and this seemed like the best solution to reach that end. I wasn’t planning to stay here all night or to be a burden, sir; I just needed to clear my head before going to bed.”

You look at him again, trying to stand straighter for your words.

Levi's expression doesn't falter.

Then, he lets out a long exhale, half-turning away from you. “Look, I'm not your parent. Do as you please. But don’t come crying to me tomorrow if you're tired. You better be able to keep up. I expect nothing less of you.”

Your Captain must recognize that level-headed attitude he witnessed plenty of times out on expeditions, or he wouldn’t let you go down so easily.

Levi rubs his eyelids with the tips of his fingers. “And next time, pay better attention. There are all manners of perverts in this world. Even if this place seemed abandoned, you can never be too careful. It’s unlike you to be so careless.”

You chuckle nervously. If only Levi realized you’re the only degenerate lurking these waters.

“Right,” you answer. “Lucky it’s just you.”

As you say those words, Levi looks at you—really looks at you—and something shifts in his expression. His eyes move away from your face, casting his stern gaze over the rest of your body, as if seeing you for the first time.

His attention makes your breath stop.

“You should still be careful," he says in a low tone. "Men in the military are still men.”

You swallow loudly, a delicious sensation coiling at the bottom of your stomach. There’s something suggestive in Levi’s words, isn't there? You tell yourself that it’s just him showing his concern and that it means nothing beyond that.

“As I said, lucky it’s just you,” you repeat.

Then, Levi surprises you.

He takes a step forward, cornering you further to the edge of the spring. His stare glints like starlight.

Your heart leaps. What is he doing? Outside of training, Levi never approaches you like this.

You try to keep your cool at the sudden proximity. Knowing that just one peek down, and you’d see what lies between your Captain's legs. You briefly wonder what his cock looks like.

If it’s like the rest of him…

Stop.

You need to focus now—your Captain is speaking to you.

“And who’s saying I’m not the sort of man to take advantage of a situation like this one?”

Your breath hitches, unsure if you heard him correctly. His gray eyes linger on your bare shoulders, fixing it like his stare could pierce through them.

Is he... is he testing you?

Your eyes meet again. His pupils are dilated, yours are wide.

“I know you,” you hear yourself say, “you’re not that type of man.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. Snow continues to dust the air, melting into the warm water surrounding you both. A faint gust of wind wheezes from down the mountain.

“You have that much faith in me, do you?” Levi asks quietly.

Your eyes flit back up. Levi has dipped further down into the water. He looks... pensive, eyes fixing his rippled reflection.

The sight of him so close almost takes the air out of your lungs.

And you’re reminded of how handsome your Captain is.

In all the years you’ve known him, all you could do was admire him from a distance—trying to keep your feelings and attraction for him in check. But Levi has always been beautiful, even when you denied yourself the opportunity to think so.

Deep-set eyes that remind you of muted skies—the occasional spark of blue shining when the sun hits his face just right. A velvety undercut that you know he trims himself every other week, the rest of his shiny hair parted in the middle. Rosy lips that appear permanently pressed together—only you’ve seen it: on the rare occasions that your Captain allows himself a downtime to drink a cup of tea with his squad and friends… yeah, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and the world is graced with one of Levi’s rare smiles. It’s a sight that you’ve kept locked in your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I do.”

Levi's eyes come smoldering back onto you. “Speak up.”

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Captain Levi.”

It's true.

You first agreed to join Levi’s squad because you’d seen him fly, seen the way he handled his ODM gear. You grew to respect him like no one else. You stayed because of the sort of leader Levi proved to be. He didn’t demand authority like the rest, but he exuded it all the same. He didn’t care to be Humanity’s Strongest, but he still garnered hope and made people believe in him.

“I mean it,” you add, “I’m devoted to you.”

Levi's face pinches. “Careful with your words. I don’t like thoughtless sheep.”

“That’s not what I mean. You know I’m not scared to question your orders if I disagree with them. I’m smart and I’m strong. But even so, you’re the person I followed when I joined the Scouts. I would do anything for you.”

His eyes do not blink. “Anything.”

“Anything.”

Levi swallows heavily, taking a step back.

“Don’t say shit like that," he mutters. "Anything is everything. Other people would abuse your willingness. You should be careful.”

A moment passes by. You lick your lips, already moistened by the fog. Suddenly, you recall the actual reason for being here. You’re hot, burning. Like if you don’t get the release you desire, you might just need to cool off in the snow somewhere.

It might be why you dare to say your next words.

“Do you want to abuse my willingness?” you ask.

Levi’s stare darts back to you. Before you can control it, you squeeze your thighs tightly together, finding the tension unbearable. Levi takes notice: his eyes burn up and down, mouth parted.

It's maybe Levi's stupor that makes you act next. You push yourself up on the balls of your feet, rising with an arm draped over your breasts. The water provides a somewhat decent cover over what lies below your waist, but it does nothing to stop runlets plowing down your exposed curves.

Levi’s goes still.

And you push through.

“I lied, Captain Levi,” you tell him.

His brows knit together.

“The truth is, I came out here because," you avert your gaze, "… because I needed relief.”

“Relief.”

“Yes, relief in the…," your cheeks grow warm, "physical sense, I mean.”

“You mean masturbation.”

“You’re putting it rather plainly, but sure,” you mumble. “I.. I’d still like that relief, sir.”

“Look, whatever depravity you’re up to does not concern—”

“With you. I'd like for it to be with you.”

Everything goes still after that.

Levi’s entire face is blank, as if he sucked in all his emotions. All you can hear is the light gust of wind, swallowed by the mountains.

“What..." Levi opens his mouth, then closes it shut again as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. The knot in his throat bobs in what you can only describe as the most painful seconds of your life. You swear your heartbeat must be loud enough for him to hear. "What you're suggesting. You realize that it’s against the rules.”

“I realize, sir,” you say.

“That I’m your Captain and you’re my subordinate?”

Dread settles at the bottom of your stomach. Yikes, you’re in for one of his lectures, aren’t you?

“Yes, Captain Levi.”

“That both of us could get in trouble if this gets out?”

... What?

Your eyes flit up.

Did you hear him correctly?

Levi assesses you. He takes a step forward and you shrivel back as he plants his arms on either side of your body, caging you in. He dips down into the water to come eye-level with you.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, stare never straying from yours.

You blink. Is your Captain seeking to understand your desires?

"S-sir?” you stutter.

“Tell me what you want, if you could have it,” he says.

Oh shit, he is. Your Captain is actually trying to understand what you want.

“Oh, um," you fumble with your words, heartbeat climbing up to your throat. Truthfully, you never expected to make it this far, so you feel unprepared. "Well, in my fantasies, my partner would… touch me, sir.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. But I suppose it begins with a… kiss.”

Levi’s eyes flicker to your lips.

Oh, fuck.

"Show me."

Your eyes widen. "S-show you?"

"That's what I just said."

Now, normally, you'd be the type to overthink and overanalyze just about everything. So when your Captain says those words, beckons you closer, you stop thinking.

You do as he asks and you kiss him.

And you discover that his mouth is soft, like velvet on skin.

Then Levi leans into you—moving his lips over yours, cupping your cheeks with more vigor—and you realize that it’s truly happening. Your hands fall onto his chest bone and his heartbeat sparks under your fingertips. It's his heart. The heart he dedicated to the Survey Corps—it's yours, if only for a brief moment.

And reality crashes on you.

You’re kissing Levi Ackerman. Your Captain. Humanity's Strongest.

Holy shit.

Not wanting to waste this fleeting opportunity (because surely, this can't last), you slide your tongue further into the depths of his mouth. Levi lets out a hum of approval, and you taste him—taste the chamomile he drinks most evenings and the mint from his toothpaste.

When your eyes venture open, you find that your Captain’s steely gaze is already fixed on you, watching you through a half-lidded stare. You can see the clear blue ring around his silver irises.

It only makes you want him more.

"C-captain," you say through the kiss.

Levi breaks apart briefly. “Tell me.”

You take his hand and guide it to your chest.

“T-touch me here. Please.”

Levi acquiesces, gripping the bud of your nipple between two fingers and pinching, hard.

Pleasure ripples through your body, making you whimper in place.

At that moment, you can only imagine what you look like—flushed, pliant and pleading for more. You’ve never shown this side of yourself to him before; you wonder if it repulses him.

Wrong, utterly wrong. The opposite seems to be true, in fact; your Captain seems to delight himself with this facet you are revealing.

“Desperate, are we?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, tone dripping with a husky sense of satisfaction.

Before you can answer to his teasing, his mouth moves over your neck, while his hands continue to caress your breasts. The contrast of temperatures is so stark—the hot spring so warm, his skin so cold—that it makes you audibly gasp.

Your hands slide up towards his nape, and you brush the brittle undercut and twist, tugging him closer.

That’s when you feel it… the hardness—his hardness, pressing against your plump flesh.

At the contact, the Captain groans against your throat, biting down without restraint. You whimper, attempting to push back, but Levi's teeth don't let go.

"Quit squirming," he mutters.

Your warm breath clouds the air. “C-captain, please.”

“Mm?”

"Please touch me. I can’t bear to wait anymore.”

In response, Levi slides his free hand to tug at your hair. He pulls on your locks, exposing the side of your neck for him to ravish, nibbling from the tip of your ear to your collarbone.

“Don't you know that all good things come to those who wait?” he says.

Vindictive that your Captain is depriving you of what you’ve asked, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. You roll your hips forward, grinding against him, a fleeting attempt to make him just as desperate at you are.

Levi hisses as your soft curves plow against his erection. “You little minx.”

He pulls you back to shoot you a glare. Dangerous move, his eyes convey. And yet, it also gives you a glimpse into his state and, oh... interesting. You aren’t the only one who’s flustered, you realize—rosiness dusts his cheeks and his pupils are wide-shot black.

Your lips quirk into a playful smile.

Levi shrugs with one arm, looking away. “Be patient, will you?” His voice is hoarse. “I’m not someone who does things half-way.”

You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh. Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

Levi lets out a grunt that’s so decidedly him.

Suddenly, Levi completely lets go and your body drops into the water. You frown. One of Levi's lids twitches.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Teaching you some patience. Wait here and stay put."

"But, you said—“

“—that's an order.”

You close your mouth, shivering at the commanding tone in his voice. You aren't sure how you'll be able to go back from this after tonight—listening to his orders on the battlefield is going to be a nightmare.

Nonetheless, you do as he says, watching as he swims offshore where the oil lamp is placed.

And the whole situation hits you like bricks.

Holy shit.

You just kissed Captain Levi. And you're about to do more with him.

Why exactly is it happening now, of all times, you wonder? Why is your Captain allowing this?

In all the years you’ve been working alongside the Captain, you always thought your crush had gone unnoticed, or if Levi knew, that he had ignored it altogether.

Your observations are cut short as Levi comes back, holding up his towel and his green cloak above the water's surface.

You raise a questioning brow.

“I’m not touching you in this water, natural spring or not.” Your Captain unfolds the towel as he places it neatly over the smooth edge of the hot spring that's snow-free, casting the cloak behind. He shifts his blank stare on you, and taps on the ground with one hand. “Sit.”

You gulp, self-conscious at the idea of exposing yourself like this. Sure, it’s nighttime, and sure, the steam obscures the air, but he’s demanding a level of vulnerability that you hardly give out.

Levi picks up on your hesitation in a flash of a moment, reading you like a book. “You can still back away from this, you know.”

“I… no. No, I want this.” And you do—the way your core pulsates even now should be a telltale sign of just how much you want this. “I really want this.”

“Then what? You’re never uncertain during expeditions.”

“That’s because I know my shit out there. It’s not that easy with you. This is scary.”

Levi scoffs. “You think I’m scarier than a titan?”

“Of course not. But I overthink.”

Levi traps your chin between two fingers, tilting your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Then don’t think.”

You falter, mouth parting. Levi skims a thumb over your lower lip. The sudden gentleness behind his words, combined with his actions, makes you falter.

“Okay,” you find yourself whispering back.

“Okay, what?”

You meet his stare head-on. His eyes are no longer a muted silver, but turning towards a stormy gray. They demand an answer.

And you have just the thing to give him.

“Please help me not to think, Captain.”

Levi lets out a long hum as he slides closer. There, he takes the time to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, all the while his hands create a path down your body, exploring for the first time.

“Is that what you want?” he asks in a low tone. “For me to help you stop thinking?”

“Y-yes." You swallow loudly. "You have complete control. Do whatever you want to me, just... get me there.”

In one movement, Levi plucks you off the ground, his hands gripping your ass as if you weighed nothing at all. You squirm in his grip, clutching his back for support as your wet flesh slides against his own. He then carefully places you onto the towel so that you're sitting on the edge of the hot spring, your calves dipping into the water. The rocks under you are smooth, and you now tower over him.

Levi takes a step back to admire you, his eyes roving over every facet of your body, tracing your curves with meticulous care.

It makes you squirm in place. “Captain…”

“Levi,” he answers without missing a beat, engrossed in admiring your body. He parts your legs as he anchors himself in between them, where he draws circles along your rib cage, thumb slotting along every dip.

“Huh?”

His silver eyes look up to you, a fire in them that wasn’t there before.

“We’re not here as soldiers, so. Just call me Levi,” he says.

One hand nestles along the flesh of your waist while you tremble in his arms. Levi angles your head sideways with his other palm, siphoning your neck with kisses before finding a sensitive spot that makes you gasp.

“Alright… ah, Levi,” you say with some difficulty. It feels strange to call your Captain so informally, but there’s something arousing about it too.

"And if I do anything that displeases you or that feels too much, just so."

"Say what?"

He pulls back for a moment. "I don't know, pick something."

"Anything?"

He nods.

You think about it for a moment when the idea hits you. "Okay... Green, red. Formation colors."

Levi scoffs. "Titan formations."

"You said to pick, so I picked. Still a soldier through and through, right?"

"Whatever you say."

Levi’s hand trails to your chest, moving to cup one of your breasts between his nimble digits. His thumbs toy with it while his tongue finds its place along the valley of your second breast.

His hot breath drifts against the tip of your hardened tit, “I'm gonna go down on you.”

Before you can answer, Levi flicks the bud of your nipples with his teeth, swirling his tongue in circles that sparks pleasure everywhere—leaving you to moan and hold onto his set of hair.

Your words tumble mid-breath. “Are you s-sure?”

Levi’s stare lock with yours, his lips still sealed to your breast. He pulls away with a pop, a thread of saliva connecting between his mouth and your nipple.

The sight makes you want to scream.

“Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?” he asks.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“No… I guess not. I… fuck, okay, yes. Go down on me, Levi. Green, so fucking green.”

Levi takes a step back, using your name to usher you into execution. “On your back, then, and put my cloak on. You’re not catching a fucking cold from this.”

I don’t think I’ll be getting cold with what's ahead, you think to yourself.

Nonetheless, you comply with his orders. You slide his cloak over your shoulders and prop your elbows down. Before you can blink, Levi pulls you towards him by the grip of your thighs, causing your back to lie flush with the ground. You glance at him, bewildered.

Levi has wrapped his hands around the meat of your legs, parting them to have full access. There's a wild glint to his eyes, like what you have between your legs is making him lose himself. Before you can blink, Levi begins to heed kisses on the inner parts of your legs, his touch slow and treacherous. It makes your hips buck, twitching beneath him.

“Sensitive, are we?” Levi tuts, his warm breath tickling your skin.

Any clever answer you might have given him is snuffed out as his warm breath falls on your sex. His hot tongue dips into your folds, something almost wicked in the way he rams in. You jerk up, calves sliding out of the water to wrap themselves around his neck.

You shoot up to grab a fistful of his hair.

But Levi stops you in your tracks. He pulls back, gathering your wrists in one hand. “Stay put. You can look but you can’t touch.”

And with that, he flings your wrists to your stomach, clinging onto you as his other hand pins one leg down. Then, he relishes in the wetness between your legs, slowing down in a manner that’s oh so sensual.

That wicked little man.

“Captain,” you complain, trembling beneath his touch. You can’t take it anymore—not being able to move, being held down as he unravels you, and now he teases you with his tongue?

It’s too much and at the same, it's not enough.

In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts.

“S-s-shit,” you breathe out, your mind going into overdrive from being pinned like this.

You knew of Levi’s strength, of course. Everyone within the Walls knows about Humanity’s Strongest. You’ve even had the privilege to witness it firsthand on expeditions.

But seeing it used in his lovemaking, well… it's something else entirely.

“You fucking tease. You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?” you mutter.

His voice hums against your sex. “And what if I am?”

That’s when Levi hits your spot, tenderly sucking on your clit in a way that makes you heave. This time, you can’t help but release a louder moan, hips arching up to meet his lips.

But just as you're about to reach that bliss you've craved all along, Levi pulls away.

You're left cold. Aching.

You tilt your head to gape at him. Levi’s mouth glistens with your slickness, but it does nothing to quell down your frustration.

What the hell is he doing?

You’re about to mouth him off when his expression shifts, stormy eyes narrowing.

“Patience,” he grits out.

It’s painful, the way he just delayed your orgasm. In the absence of his touch, your core throbs, begging for some kind of release.

So despite him being your superior, you can’t help but let out disgruntled words, “I don’t like being delayed, sir.”

Levi scoffs as his hands travel back onto your dampened skin. “I always knew you’d get bossy in bed.”

Your brows raise, wondering if you heard him correctly. Does this mean your Captain has thought about you… in bed?

Before you can ask, Levi moves on, dipping back into the task at hand. He shoves your legs apart, pinning you in place with an iron grip. His other hand trails over your damp inner thigh, positioning one finger at the entrance of your vagina, a digit sliding in. You feel your walls clench around his finger, pleasure ebbing through you as he discovers that magic spot that makes your toes curl.

“Perfect fucking cunt,” Levi slurs against you, cheek pressed against your shaking leg as he glides his deft finger with steady movements, mouth nuzzling closer to your silky clit.

You whimper at his praises, hips bulking up to chase his tongue. You try to keep quiet, but the more your Captain learns where to hit your points of pleasure, the more you think you may not maintain this charade for very long.

You realize that the way he delayed your orgasm has made the buildup now so much more intense. Your muscles tense, like a spring about to let loose.

So the relief that comes from Levi’s mouth wrapping against your clit again brings tears in your eyes. Pleasure seeps in. You try to grind against him to chase it even faster, but Levi remains unwilling to allow you to assert your dominance here—he keeps you pinned, keeping complete control, like he said he would.

More—you need more.

“Please, Captain. Please, please, please.”

In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts. It's as if all he needed was to hear you plead to give you exactly what you want. His digit rams into you, the pad of his thumb moving to tease you while his tongue flicks your clit with increased fervency.

Your heart drums quicker than a horse’s canter.

“… shit, shit, shit,” you choke.

When you open your eyes again, you find that Levi’s face is locked on you already—his compact muscles tense, his usual steel-eyes now a smoky haze. If only you knew what this is doing to him. His mouth seals on your bundle of nerves with a groan, his digit curling to rub your g-spot, thrusting with well-timed movements.

And then, he hits the point you were begging to be touched all along, groaning into your folds…

Right.

There.

The coil splits and your climax flares.

Your mouth opens to release a silent scream, skull rolling back as tiny warm tingles swim through your body.

Holy hell.

Levi stays with you through the orgasm, riding the bliss with you. He takes in the sight of you coming undone for him—learning from it, committing it in his memory.

Legs shaking, you don’t even register Levi tending to you as you come down. He licks your wetness pulsating in his mouth, enraptured in the taste of it as he takes it all in. With meticulous dexterity, he slides his coated fingers into his mouth, watching you as he goes about it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stutter out.

In response, Levi only continues to pepper kisses over your trembling legs. A madman, you think.

After a moment, Levi’s touch slides away. The sound of water sloshing as he pushes himself out of the hot spring.

Your head lulls sideways to admire him.

Levi’s neck is flushed—whether from the stream or from going down on you, it’s hard to tell—but it’s about the most bewitching sight you’ve ever seen. He sinks to his knees, like a religious man kneels before the Three Goddesses, and your breath falters as you catch sight of his erection.

He’s hard, tip flushed red. A trail of black hair paves down from his navel to his erection, while the rest of his body glistens under the moonlight. Sinewy muscles and tendons, locked together—years of relentless training and surviving on display.

The sight of it makes it impossible to think.

“Captain Levi,” you say with some urgency.

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna need you inside me. Now.”

“Are you ordering me around?” There's slight derision in his voice, twisting your insides.

“Yes,” you lick your lip, eyes locking with his, “that’s right, I’m ordering you.”

Levi huffs, forearms flexing as he crawls towards you—slowly, like a predator does its prey. With his body still warm from the hot spring, it creates a fog around him, his pale skin gleaming like gossamer.

Levi's voice remains steady, eyes impassive, but there's a hint of something in his eyes that tells you he enjoys being spoken back to.

“Someone thinks highly of herself, ordering her Captain around,” he chastises.

“Said Captain has yet to say no.”

“And why would I refuse you?”

At that, your Captain captures your lips. Your savor the way his body molds into yours, tasting your muskiness on his tongue. A wonderful sensation overwhelms you then—knowing you allowed your body to succumb to his touches, knowing he wanted to taste you in this manner.

As he breaks away the kiss, you can't help but continue to ask for more.

“Sir…”

Levi tugs at your waist, sliding you back down with force. “What did I say about calling me by my name?”

He looms over you, his bangs dusting his face. Your lips twitch into a coy smile, sliding your fingers into his slick hair. It's so soft.

“And what if I want to call you by your title?” you ask.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Despite the neutral tone in his voice, there’s something dark in his stare, heightened by pink cheeks and red ears. He strokes the ball of your shoulder with his thumb. “You’re one of those people who gets off on authority, huh?”

You grip his arms, turning your head away. Levi rubs his cock over your clit, teasing you and spreading your wetness. You mewl.

“You're lucky I'm feeling generous,” Levi says in your ear. “You better use it well."

Your breath catches in your chest as the tip of his length enters you. His warm hands skim over the flesh of your body, letting you slowly adjust to him, cradling you.

“That will all depend on you, Captain Levi,” you manage to pant out, letting the l sound roll of your tongue.

He grates out your name. “So fucking mouthy.”

“Well, I learned from the best, sir.”

Levi’s stare locks onto you, gazing at you like he was in a trance. His Adam's apple bobs. He almost looks vulnerable for a split moment.

“You've watched me, have you?” he says in a low tone.

Your cheeks warm at the suggestion in Levi’s words, mouth parting to contest when you feel his forefinger run along your lower lash line. Your eyes meet his piercing gaze.

He leans close, mouth hovering close to yours.

“I've watched you too,” he confesses.

And then, Levi slams into you.

Your cry mixes in with Levi's groan. Reaching blindly for something to hold on to, wanting—needing—him to understand just what he’s doing to you, you settle on clawing at his back. Levi’s thrusts are treacherous—painfully slow at first, pounding with full intensity.

The way of a man trying to ruin you.

“Holy s-shit,” you breathe, puffs of white clouding the air.

Levi holds you close as his hips roll forward to settle on a cadence that matches your vices, his flushed cheeks pressing against yours. You hook your fingers, grinding into his touch—your mind edging towards complete absolution.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, voice decadent. "You're so. Perfect.”

His words cause something delicious to swirl within you.

Levi slings an arm around your back, the other hooking up one knee to position himself deeper, slipping out and back into your wanting heat. You watch as his lips press together like he were trying to contain back a moan, but it’s obscured by your vision blurring at the sensation of his length stretching you out.

With one traitorous jerk, your walls throb in pleasure, eyes brimming with tears as you stare at Levi’s pale skin and the snow mingling together. Your nails scratch his hips, leaving red marks on his soft, plush skin.

“Levi,” you plead.

Levi, what? You aren’t sure what you’re calling out to him for. You’re too forgone, too dizzy, to notice you used his first name, let alone find the words to finish that thought.

His back muscles go taut under your fingertips, his spine moving in accordion with the rolling of his hips.

More.

“Captain, please, please—.”

“Be patient,” he grits out. His tousled hair clings over his forehead, lips parting as your bodies merge into one. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Suddenly, he pulls out of you and flips you over so that you’re on all four. He angles your waist up, one hand pinning your neck down, the other holding onto your hair, as he slides back in..

Then Levi moves down on you and bites your right shoulder—hard. Pleasures ripples through your body, feeling his mark on your skin.

"Color?" he asks, voice shaking.

"Ngh... green, so fucking green." You whimper, nails scratching at the soil. “Do it again."

And Levi only delivers, his bite turning to something strong enough to bruise as he thrusts into you.

You wonder what Levi looks like up there, gripping at your waist while the rest of your body curves face down. You wish you could frame a picture for yourself to stow away.

If you could see your Captain, you’d see that his eyes are trained on the sight of your naked body glistening with sweat. You’d catch him fixing his cock getting lost inside of you, your walls clamping around him. You’d see the way his eyes marvel at your curves—how your body blends with valleys of snow over the horizon. You'd see the blush spreading from his neck to his ears, burning the way you are.

A state of euphoria.

“F-f-fuck. I can't get enough of you,” you hear him confess.

Can’t get enough of you? Are you hearing him correctly? Since when does your Captain speak like that?

Still, his words seem to ignite something inside you, emboldened to see more of this side your Captain is revealing.

“Tell me,” you murmur, pleasuring building and building.

His answer doesn’t miss a beat, straightening up to pound into you harder. “You drive me crazy.”

Levi’s fingers dig into your flesh, something needy, something bruising, about his grip.

“Yeah? Then let me let you in on something, Levi… Captain, ah,” you mutter, eyes fluttering as he continues to fill you up. “The reason I came out here in the first place was because… ngh, I wanted to imagine your fingers touching me. Wanted to imagine it was you fingering me.”

“F-fuck,” Levi hisses.

He grips your hips with full-blooded vigor, siphoning into you with a quickened pace.

“Captain, I—”

But your words die out when three fingers find a place on your swollen clit. Your brain short-circuits.

Your orgasm splinters into the night.

You go boneless, sagging into pure bliss, while Levi continues to thrust into you. Feeling your walls clench so tightly, creaming his length, he follows soon after—the rushing heat of his climax answers your own, his pulsing cock engulfed by your heat.

And your brain? Your brain is numb.

For a moment, all the two of you can do is pant and attempt to regain your senses. One of Levi’s hand rests on the small of your back, while you slowly uncurl your fingers from the ground.

Eventually, Levi slides out of you. He uses the towel to help you clean up. You watch him go about it, mind still delirious, something almost coy about the way he handles the aftercare of your lovemaking.

When all is said and done, a comfortable silence fills the air.

It’s now well past twilight, and both of you only have a precious few hours before you’re back on the road.

Neither of you are particularly tired. You let your sore body slide back into the warm water with your Captain by your side. You watch the mountains slope down, elbows perked on the edge of the hot spring, basking in the utter peace that comes from this sort of silence.

You lean a cheek on your propped hand to watch him. A light breeze tousles Levi’s black hair, faint snow dusting the air. You count the scars twined on his torso, wondering about the story behind each one.

Maybe one day, your Captain might open up about each of them.

"Did it work?" Levi interrupts the trembling silence, watching as you draw circles over the smooth edge of the hot spring.

Your eyes circle around to meet his cloudy stare.

You raise a brow. "Did what work?"

"Did you stop thinking?"

You snort, recalling your pleading request. "Yeah. I stopped thinking. And... thank you, by the way."

Levi hums. There's another lull in the conversation, filled with comfortable silence.

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that this should remain between us,” he says.

That makes you roll your eyes. “Aw, you wound me, Captain. Here I was hoping to gossip with everyone about the way you like to eat people out.”

Levi shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I’m not stupid, Levi,” you add.

Levi clicks his tongue. “No, just too fucking ballsy. Never knew your mouth ran so wild.”

You smirk. “Well, sorry to say, sir, but you’ve not seen half of what my mouth can do.”

You swear a a rosy hue dusts the ridge of his nose. “You're a shameless thing, you know that?”

You laugh, tilting your head sideways. “I told you. I know what I want.”

“Clearly,” he remarks, eying you. “And you’ve wanted this for a while.”

Despite having just had his face buried between your legs, you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at that comment and the confession it demands of you.

“Never said that,” you dismiss.

“No? What were your exact words? That you—”

“Don’t repeat what I said!” you hiss, glaring at him. “It was in the heat of the moment. You can’t hold it against me.”

Levi grunts in an amused way, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, unsure how he might use this knowledge. You didn't think about any of it before, but where do you go from here?

Levi gives you that answer seconds later. He raises a hand to your face, tugging a strand behind your ear and swirling his thumb over your jaw.

“Well, next time you dream of my fingers, just come to me,” he says simply.

There’s an intensity in his gray eyes that wasn’t there before.

You go still.

Next time?

Is that a promise?

His thumb presses over your neck, feeling you gulp against his fingertip. Your stomach contracts in anticipation.

Oh, it is a promise.

You could get used to this new side of your Captain.

And then Levi retreats, eyes never wavering from yours, and bobs his head towards the chalet.

“Now to the shower, we’re not reeking come morning.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, soldier.”

You sigh.

There’s the Captain you’ve grown to like so much.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Spotify Playlist that inspired this fic Heart divider by saradika-graphics - the rest is by me ~

Taglist: @l3visthighs, @bejewelledd, @nube55, @thephantomtheory, @levilxvr, @halloweenmedic, @notgoodforlife, @sixpennydame, @youre-ackermine, @starrylevi, @loyal2rin, @levistealeaf, @queen0sharena, @levisecretgfblog, @bitchymanlet

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beelmons · 10 months

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I have a filthy idea and I love your blog sorry

Hotch x reader x Early seasons!Spencer (or really any older BAU with reader and Spencer, someone has to show him the ropes, right?😩)

Reader is bound and blindfolded. Hotch is trailing a popsicle over reader's skin, showing Spencer where they are most sensitive and Spencer licks the trail of sticky syrup left behind. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️(lord have mercy I'm a whore)

A/N: Ok so, i really got into this idea and i ended up doing WAY too much and i'm sorry it's so late but i got too excited. anyways, have this monstruosity.

A different kind of teacher

cw: sensory deprivation (hand binding, blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones), threesome, temprature play (use of frozen goods), fellatio, fem!reader, implied polyamory i guess

word count: 1,996 (on accident)

"I don't think that's—" Spencer tried to interrupt when his boss's actions got questionable.

"It's alright." Hotch answered as he gently tied the blindfold behind your head "She's done this before. I told you, if you’re going to learn how to please her, you’re going to do it my way."

"But that's—" he tried to argue again.

"Reid." Aaron said commandingly.

Their bickering was rather amusing, really. Everything about this situation was. A love-struck puppy, namely Spencer, that had found out you were having an affair, for a lack of a better word, with your boss. Who was later given the odd offer to join in, one that he barely comprehended the dynamic of. The one he ended up accepting because having half of you was better than having none.

The situation in question was no other than your bare body binded to a sex sofa, yes, the one with a funny oval-like shape, in the middle of a street motel. Mind you, a high category one, courtesy of a very spoiling unit chief. Hands tied behind the furniture, a blindfold securely tied against your eyes, and a pair of sound-canceling headphones that would be eventually put on you.

“I don’t think I can do this.” the younger man confessed.

His superior shot him a glare, and his finger raised to press against his own lips, indicating the other to keep quiet. He then proceeded to place the aforementioned gadget against your ears to muffle the sounds.

“You can’t let your nerves overtake you.” Aaron began to talk, walking closer to the chair where Spencer was sitting “Otherwise, you won’t enjoy yourself. And believe me, she wants you to have as much fun as she does.”

“I just have never done something remotely similar.” he admitted.

“And that’s okay, that’s why I’m here to guide you.” Hotch patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to stand up, to which Reid complied.

As the older man directed himself to the cooler, included with the room by the way, Spencer stood awkwardly next to where you were laying. Regardless of his statements about the situation, the twitching of his dick as he watched you breathing, rather heavily, blissfully ignorant of the sinful deeds they were about to do to you, was giving away just how much into it he was.

“You should learn to use your tongue first.” the boss interrupted his train of thought “We’re going to do a little exercise, okay? I’ll trail this over her skin, her most sensitive spots. Clean her up. You have to be thorough, she doesn’t like feeling sticky.”

You were absolutely deprived of such supportive conversation, or anything else for that matter. It was exciting in and on itself to be expectant of what would happen next, along with no indication whatsoever of what that would be. Two, insanely hot, men having you at their entire disposal was certainly arousing.

Such anticipation caused you to moan rather loudly when you felt a cold object hit the side of your neck, slowly melting down towards the base, the feeling only lasted a couple of seconds since it was shortly after contrasted with the warm sensation of what you figured was a tongue following the strip.

It was quick. It left your skin as soon as it came.

The lack of attention, though, would not last long. You felt a new sting of coldness, only this time it was right over your breast; instead of dripping down, the same tool, whatever it was, moved downwards until it reached your nipple. You could feel it going slightly numb from the temperature, it was making your stomach tighten. Again, you felt it part and something a lot hotter took its place. This time, you could easily tell who was taking advantage of your breasts by the bony structure of the fingers.

Spencer was ravishing on the sweet taste of the icicle mixed with the salty notes of your sweat. His tongue was eager and clumsy, but pleasurable nonetheless, his fingers gentle and attentive to the sides of the skin, holding back to not let his animalistic side just come out.

“That’s good.” Hotch praised the young man “It’s all about not knowing what to expect. About surprising her with sudden pleasure.”

Back in your deprived state, you were simply squirming with delight at how your chest was being treated, mouth slightly agape to allow soft sounds of pleasure to escape. The gap was tempting for one of the men, still unknown to you, to defile, and suddenly you felt something land over your lips. You recognized the mixture of freezing water and sugar, and your tongue instinctively darted out to take a lick.

The treat instead began to lewdly penetrate your mouth, simulating a fellatio, and the length of it would teasingly near the back of your throat each time.

The icicle departed promptly, leaving your lips parted and tingly from the coldness, expectant to be inserted again. Instead, the temperature of the new foreign object was the complete opposite, its structure soft to an extent, and salty in flavor. It didn't take you long to notice it was no longer the sugary dessert, but one of your partners' cock.

"Go slow at first, it takes her a second to get used to it." Hotch dragged a hand behind your head, pushing forward gently so you could get more of his shaft into your mouth “But she can take it very well.”

His fingers trailed over your scalp lovingly. His moans were translated in heavy, airy exhales through his nose. He was obviously playing tough for Spencer, no matter how much your mouth actually disarranged him on the daily. He thrusted a couple more times, until he was fully hard, before he pulled out.

He made a signal with his hand to indicate the younger to take over, and Reid swallowed back a knot of nervousness. He awkwardly cupped your head between his palms and allowed his tip to testingly land on your tongue. He shuddered with pleasure as your lips hungrily wrapped around it, hollowing your cheeks almost immediately.

You could tell the member had changed simply by the shape. Leaner girth, more swollen head, and an almost desperate way of moving. He started doubtfully at first, and later his pace began to pick up. His grip on your head was tight, making you unable to move away, and with every push he would reach deeper into your mouth, and the pulsations on his veins would also have a stronger beat.

Spencer was losing it, mouth parted open, head thrown back, desperate whines spilling from his throat. His inexperience was his biggest enemy, because he didn’t last much inside of you. When he started to feel his orgasm coming, he decided to pull away. His fist curled around his shaft, pumping the base at a rapid speed, his tip pointing to his own stomach, since, to him, coming inside your mouth seemed dirty, almost too humiliating.

Hotch stared with amusement at how respectful he was being, rookie mistake, he figured. Too overwhelmed with his own pleasure, Spencer had his eyes fully shut, and became absolutely unaware of the second Aaron gently placed his fingers over the moving hand, pushing it down to aim the tip towards your mouth.

You simply waited for the inevitable, the white strings landing on your tongue, salty and thick, and a lot more than you had expected. When you were sure no more would come out, you attempted to swallow, but before you could close your mouth a thumb invaded it, keeping it open.

“Watch this magic trick.” Aaron showed Spencer the evidence of his release before shutting your mouth again.

You took the hint and swallowed, immediately opening your mouth once again to show no trace of the substance left.

Spencer had to bring a hand to his face to hide his blush, although his again half-hard dick gave him away.

“That’s actually really hot.” he said shyly, brows furrowed in embarrassment.

“It is.” Hotch smiled in his direction “Now that you’ve come, it’s just natural to return the favor, don’t you agree?”

The older man directed himself again to the cooler, taking now a single ice cube that he held with a piece of clothing to avoid getting frostbite.

“Your training isn’t over yet.” he told Spencer once he was back to your side “Next, let’s get you a real challenge. If one drop of this cube gets on the sofa, you don’t get to touch her the rest of the night.”

“W-What? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he complained.

“If you make her cum before it fully melts,” Hotch ignored the protest “You can fuck her first.”

Again, your senses were too limited to hear their bet being formed. During their exchanges you just waited patiently, eager to know what would come next. Every once in a while, when the cool air hit you, you tensed up expecting something to happen, and even when it didn’t you just got more excited.

At last, another sting of coldness hit your skin, this time it was further to the south, just above your clit. You could feel the object slowly melting, the lack of heat spreading to your bundle of nerves, your labia, and almost to your entrance. It was mildly uncomfortable, but exciting nonetheless.

Out of a sudden, you felt a muscle enter you. You bolted in ecstasy due to finally getting much needed friction on your lower body. It trailed up, slowly and steady, until it reached the top. The lips rounded your sensitive nub, and you could feel them suck on it. The sensation was overwhelming, making you twist over the sofa, shameless erotic moans filling up the room.

The water kept making its way down your sex, and the tongue diligently prevented it from reaching all the way to the leather, driving you insane with each lap at it. Your hands struggled against the binds that tied you down. You wanted nothing more than to hold his head down and bury it against you, to have him flush against your entrance, just licking you over and over again.

A hand landed on your head, indicating that you should keep your movements to yourself. The commanding ambience just added to your stimulation, the mouth down your body sucking the neverending stream of water as if trying to lick it dry. Your thighs attempted to close around his head, and you were finally able to grind against him. For some reason, that did it for you, and you allowed your climax to reach you, and your fluids to come out.

“Impressive.” Hotch praised as he removed the ice cube from your body.

Spencer, however, did not stop, his tongue moving ruthlessly against your entrance, absolutely drunk on your taste. Aaron could see you squirm uncomfortably, being pushed to a point of overstimulation, hands restlessly clinging onto nothing in an attempt to release the slight pain on your abused clit.

“Reid.” he called trying to make him stop; the younger man, however, was entranced by your pussy, and did not react to the mention of his name. Hotch was forced to step closer, tangle his fingers on the blond’s hair, and pull his head back by tugging on his locks, forcing him away from you “Behave. There’s plenty of time for more later.”

He spoke so sternly that it sent shivers down Spencer’s spine, almost as he did during work cases. He nodded with compliance and straightened himself again.

“Sorry.” Reid ashamedly said.

“It’s alright. I know how addicting it can be.” while talking, he rummaged through a go-bag he had brought earlier into the room. “Now,” he tossed a condom towards Spencer “Get ready for lesson number two.”

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theoldsports · 5 months

Text

Married | Part II

LINK TO PART ONE

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.1K words

FILTHY SMUT 18+ ONLY. oral (m and f receiving), dubcon, alcohol makes consent messy, brutal sex, blackout drunk, bad media coverage, lingerie, exhibitionism (a little), they’re both terrible for each other in the best way possible, possessiveness <3 this one gets a bit dark.

Married, back by popular demand. hope it’s okay. i worked hard, i’m a bit nervous. let me know what you thought. requests always open.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

He inhaled and set his sights towards his next objective. Already leaning in, Coriolanus pulled [Y/N]’s earlobe between his lips tantalizingly. “Now, I seem to recall being promised a blowjob, my Darling.”

[Y/N] sighed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten.”

Coriolanus smirked, inches from her face. “I never forget a promise.” He muttered.

The driver pulled up in front of them with his car and Coriolanus pulled [Y/N] inside. [Y/N] put her head on Coriolanus’ shoulder instead of putting on her seatbelt for the short drive home. She was drunk enough not to care if she was touching him, or if he was touching her. Coriolanus was touching her. He was touching her too much already at her thighs and hips. The pair of them had already broken the touch barrier that evening, but her brain was too loopy to try to push any kind of new/old boundary.

[Y/N] blinked heavily. She was able to tell that Coriolanus was already becoming frustrated with the bulk of tulle that was her black gown. It was funny for an engagement party when she thought about it, since it stood in stark contrast to her crisp white wedding gown. Coriolanus couldn’t seem to figure out how to touch her right under all the fabric as he had then they were standing earlier.

“Is your wedding dress going to be easier to handle?” Coriolanus said into the back of her ear. “This one is starting to get on my nerves.”

“I can’t tell you that. You’re not ‘pposed to see it til you see it at the alter.” She giggled sadly.

Coriolanus frowned. “Ancient superstition,” he said. “I’m not seeing it anyway. You’d be telling me about it. It’s different.”

“Nice try.”

Coriolanus’ frown deepened as he rolled his icy blue ice. “May I ask you something else, then?”

“It depends.” [Y/N] said clearly. Too clearly, really. That was the problem with drunk people, they knew they were drunk, but they tried to prove to everyone around them that they weren’t.

Coriolanus laughed at her expense. She was behaving like a child. He found it equal parts charming and frustrating. “Have you ever given a blowjob before?” He asked too loudly for [Y/N]’s liking.

“Coriolanus!” She gasped, smacking his arm.

“I’m just asking! You don’t have to strike me. Haven’t we had enough of that for one night?”

[Y/N] hated Coriolanus. He made her blood boil. “What does it matter?” She growled.

“I was curious if you had offered because it was a matter of superior ability, or because that was the only thing you had to offer.”

“You’re calling me desperate!”

“I wasn’t specifically, but since we both agree that it’s true…”

“All this was shaping up to be halfway tolerable, and you open your big mouth again. Fuck you!”

“Yeah, I know. You fucking me is what I was aiming for. Yes or no on the blowjob thing? I was assuming you had, if it makes any difference.”

[Y/N] paused. She had given a blowjob. Quite a few, actually. They were very convenient for getting out of a bad situation fast. She didn’t answer. [Y/N] still didn’t have the courage to say that in front of the driver.

“You can say yes. I know you’re not a virgin.” Coriolanus said bluntly.

Coriolanus would know that. Prior to their engagement, it was true that [Y/N] had pulled Coriolanus in for a quick fuck at a University party. She was shocked that he implied he even remembered that for as drunk as she recalled him being. [Y/N] wondered if the two of them would only ever be able to love each other under the influence.

“Can this conversation wait a few moments, we’re almost home.” [Y/N] replied.

“You didn’t have much of a problem back at the party in front of damn near everyone that’s ever known you. Is one driver going to make a difference?”

“FINE!” [Y/N] snapped. “Fine. I have, I give a decent blowie. Happy?”

Coriolanus smiled an uncharacteristically wide grin. The driver coughed slightly and loosened his tie. [Y/N] would have been incredibly embarrassed if she had any dignity left. Coriolanus grinned even wider at his driver’s behavior. His new favorite pass time was seeing how far he was capable of pushing [Y/N] to do whatever he wanted. So far, so good. Her initial resistance before her moment of breaking and behaving even worse than himself is what made this all the more fun.

The driver pulled up in front of the steps to their city apartment. Coriolanus gathered [Y/N]’s long forgotten shoes from the car’s floor. The driver got out to open the door for [Y/N]. Ever the gentleman publicly, Coriolanus ran around the side of the car to get it faster. He helped his fiancée out of the car. A Herculean task when you consider the alcohol in her system and the weight of all the fabric in her ballgown. “Come on, Darling,” he said, yanking her somehow elegantly towards the stairs, “we have business to attend to.”

Coriolanus helped her up the stairs and into their apartment. It was easier than it had been on the way out in those deathtrap heels he had purchased her.

Faintly, [Y/N] heard the door snap shut behind her and the deadbolt click resolutely. She leaned up against the wall. Coriolanus left her field of vision for a moment. When he re-entered her sights, [Y/N] blinked up at him. “Hi.” She said.

Coriolanus smirked at her curiously. “Hello.” He replied.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” [Y/N] started. She took a clumsy step towards Coriolanus and grabbed the lapels of his coat for support once she could reach him. “You’re quite pretty,” she said. Coriolanus began a laugh. “No! Don’t. Don’t do that. I mean, you’re a very attractive man. You are. Too bad that you’re—“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Coriolanus cut in with a scoff. “Here, let me help you,” he pulled her in closer. His hands moved nimbly down her back to pop open one button after the other on her dress while still allowing her to support herself against his front. For the first time, Coriolanus didn’t care that much if she wrinkled his clothes. When the majority of the buttons were undone, her dress slid down her body and landed in a large heap at her feet. What was left under the dress was [Y/N] in no bra (which Coriolanus had not expected, even under the strapless gown) and alarmingly red lace panties, stockings and garters (also unexpected). “I… Wow,” He said cooly. His eyes raked hungrily down her body. Coriolanus had never seen so much of it at once before. “Is there a bra that goes with this?”

“Mhmm,” [Y/N] nodded shyly.

“Hm, I think I would like to see it sometime. This isn’t half bad, though,” He said. He could Coriolanus’ large hands his hands slid down her chest. His hands held her breasts firmly. His eyes widen watching her nipples pebble under the touch of his thumbs. “Why’d you wear this?”

The lingerie wasn’t the most stunning set he had ever seen—it seemed more practical than anything else— though, he could fix that. Coriolanus felt the crotch of his pants tighten at the prospect, knowing that she was already into wearing such things. He was going to call for a lingerie catalog in the morning and buy all of it.

“It’s most of what I wear. I—I like it.”

“I’ll remember,” Coriolanus nodded. She was confident he would remember. She probably wouldn’t remember saying it, though.

Coriolanus stared down at their hardwood floors. He hated hardwood. It creaked too much and only looked good with an abundance of maintenance. Coriolanus wanted [Y/N] to suck him off as soon as possible and figured that she would probably be appreciative of getting it over with faster, but his mind was racing thinking about the unsightly bruises the hardwood entryway would leave on her knees.

Then the bedroom had the issue of the rug and the rugburn that would give. Further, which bedroom would they go to? Coriolanus hated that [Y/N] insisted on staying in her own room. He would have to fix that. She was clearly just as exciting as he had recalled from childhood, it had merely taken them both a moment to get to that level of vulnerability with each other. Coriolanus decided to lead [Y/N] to his bedroom. He also decided he would insist she kneel on a pillow. He hated the look of bruised knees. It reminded him of the war.

While he pulled her along, he glanced down at her. “The tears at the party, were those real?”

[Y/N] laughed in surprise at the question. “No! Well, maybe twenty percent, if that? Because once I get started, it’s hard to stop.”

“Really?” He replied, leaning her against his open doorway. “You’re sick. I’m rather impressed. That takes a lot of… What’s the word?”

“You said ruthless earlier.”

“Yes, that too, but… It’s brilliant that you can do that at the drop of a hat. Very valuable to you. Scary for me, I’m sure.”

“… Thanks. I’ve been doing it since I was little.” [Y/N] replied dryly. She had never seen Coriolanus’ bedroom before. He had seen hers. Coriolanus thought he could barge in whenever he desired. His own room was previously off limits. [Y/N] figured it wouldn’t have been off limits had she wanted to have sex with him before now.

The room was clean, neat and lacking personal items almost entirely. There was a red rug, a vase of white roses on the nightstand and a small desk for when he took his work to bed with him. The bed, specifically, was enormous. It was piled high with pillow after pillow and the softest white sheets she could imagine. It made the bed she had spent all these weeks in look like a joke.

“Yes, as I recall, you were the fucking… crybaby in school until we were fourteen. And you mean to tell me it was fake?” Coriolanus threw his least favorite pillow on the floor for [Y/N]’s knees with a hushed thump.

“I mean, yes.”

“Why?”

“I like the attention.” [Y/N] said plainly. They both knew she wouldn’t have been so open about it without the alcohol, but boy, did Coriolanus desire this version of her. He saw her in that moment, standing mostly nude in his bedroom. He saw her for the first time for what she was. She was real. [Y/N] was a real person made up of a mess of contradictions. She was a very calculating person. Coriolanus saw that ruthlessness and that icy deadness to her. That was exactly the thing he thought he could love the most about her.

“Freak. What else can you do?”

“I dunno. I just… Do what gets me ahead. Don’t we all, Coriolanus? And, uh, when I see someone I don’t like, instead of saying ‘good to see you’ when they say ‘good to see you,’ I say, ‘yes! To see you!’ And I kind of mumble so it’s not obvious that I’m incapable of saying ‘oh yeah, nice to see you.’ You know I hate pleasantries.”

“Freak,” Coriolanus repeated with a smile. “No pleasantries then, get on your knees.”

[Y/N] walked the few steps towards towards the pillow he had thrown down and sank to her knees on it. She was clumsy when she was drinking, Coriolanus thought. More often than not, she was violently ungraceful more often than not. Coriolanus had rarely seen her be graceful at all. He liked that. He thought he’d moments of clumsiness and carelessness were alluring. [Y/N] looked helpless to him sometimes and he admired that. He wanted to be the thing that held together her broken and unsure nature. He thought of all the things he might have to help her accomplish in their future shared life together.

Coriolanus could see himself reaching easily for things she could not reach in the kitchen. He could see her being unable to lace up her winter boots due to the tightness of her dress, so he would get on his knees and do it for her. If she tripped on the sidewalk, he would pull her to her feet. If [Y/N] was too drunk to get up the stairs, he would carry her. When some strange man dared to look at her the wrong way, Coriolanus would kill him. She seemed so fragile and needy to him. Coriolanus loved that.

He needed her to need him. He wanted to be the only thing she ever need.

She was to be his.

“Stop looking at me,” She said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wow, that kind of talk really gets me hard.” Coriolanus walked towards her, undoing his black leather belt and tossing his coat on the floor. She thought about the amount of excess he would afford her if he cared so little for his own possessions to leave them on the floor. [Y/N] thought about her own position on his floor briefly.

“We agreed no pleasantries.”

“Come on, you’re going to be mine for the rest of our lives. At least let me look at you.”

[Y/N] tipped her head down with a frustrated sigh. He stared wolfishly at her as she knelt half-bare on his floor. She couldn’t help but blush at how exposed she felt. [Y/N] felt more on display and exposed in front of one man, the man she was to marry, than she did in front of every guest at the party earlier in the night.

“Don’t look away from me,” Coriolanus said firmly. “Those eyes are too beautiful to look at the ground like that.”

She looked back up at him begrudgingly, her eyes wide with fear, or lust. She had no choice but to watch Coriolanus popped open the button of his trousers open. [Y/N] could see the imprint of his dick against his thigh. He rubbed himself through his pants for a moment. [Y/N] swallowed nervously. Coriolanus was a broad, imposing man. The size of his cock shouldn’t have been surprising, but her eyes bulged all the same.

Coriolanus pulled his cock free of his pants. Logistically, [Y/N] was officially concerned about offering the blowjob. His long cock was what her the rest of her life looked like. She would surely have to get used to it eventually.

Without hesitation, [Y/N]’s mouth fell open as he approached. Her hands instinctually gripped the back of his thighs. Coriolanus, after loosening his tie, buried his hands in her once elegantly styled hair and forced himself down her throat.

Coriolanus moaned through gritted teeth in sync with [Y/N]’s gag when she took him in. There was little chance of taking all of him down her throat at once. Unsurprisingly, Coriolanus fucked hard and fast. Brutally so. [Y/N] hardly had a chance to breathe through her nose. Fortunately, at least, Coriolanus did all the work by maneuvering her face up and down on his length. He regulated the tempo and the pressure. All [Y/N] could do was try to swallow and hollow her cheeks out as best she could. Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you, echoed in her mind.

Tears ran down her cheeks. Real ones.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Coriolanus grunted after several moments. [Y/N] raised her tongue slightly against him. Through wet eyes, she saw Coriolanus’ eyebrows lift and his forehead crease when she did. That was effective. “[Y/N]!”

The only sounds in the room after that were gagging and heavy breathing. Coriolanus’ breathing, not [Y/N]’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she was able to breathe, it felt like. She was really blowing for her life here, she could barely catch an inhale through her nose. [Y/N] felt herself get more and more lightheaded and she did all she could to keep her eyes open.

Quickly, she tapped the back of Coriolanus’ left thigh. It was universal symbol for this isn’t great for me. Coriolanus understood this signal loud and clear. He thought he would keep going, but almost immediately decided he would rather have a wife in one piece instead of a perfect blowjob and slowed his pace significantly. Like a good husband.

He got gratification from slowing down too, because he could see the relieved and grateful gleam in [Y/N]’s expression. Coriolanus had gifted her that relief. He was getting close.

“Swallow.” He choked out. [Y/N] turned her eyes up at him again to confirm his request. Coriolanus’ eyes were tightly shut. [Y/N] had no idea if this had been minutes or near an hour. Her jaw ached. She felt his cock twitch against her tongue as she sucked.

That was the last clear memory [Y/N] had that night. The build up of the alcohol that had been genetically modified to be strong enough to get one drunk faster, the stress, the sweat, the tears, the blowjob, the lightheadedness, the dancing, the fear and the anger all happening on one night culminated into a good old fashion liquor blackout.

She had brief flickers of memory instead of a picture of the night. She was unsure if Coriolanus had finished or not. [Y/N] vaguely remembered Coriolanus unhooking her garters and taking off her stockings. She could feel the clean sheet and duvet over her exhausted body. She swore she could recall Coriolanus’ arm over her her waist and his lips against her ear whispering something. If only she could remember what he said.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] woke up to the birds and the traffic noise. All of it sounded world-shatteringly loud. She felt sick to her stomach. What was that dreadful taste in her mouth? Her head pounded. Too much posca at her engagement party. Desperately, she wanted a cup of coffee. [Y/N] groped at the covers to drag them over her face to block out the morning light that filtered through the window.

Hold on.

As she pulled the covers over her head, [Y/N] realized these covers did not smell like her. They smelled of roses. That, and something else more metallic that lingered under the palatable rose smell. Coriolanus smelled like that. Coriolanus’ bed.

Buried in the comfortable duvet, she couldn’t bear to crawl out from under it. She was filled with panic. How had she ended up here? She could feel that Coriolanus wasn’t beside her, so where had he ended up? Had they slept together?

Had they slept together?

The phrase and all of its meanings bounced around in her head. Her hand slid down her body. She had no top on. That was a bad sign. Her hand continued further down her body and landed on lace underwear. She exhaled and let her hand flop back down on the bed. From another room, probably the living room, [Y/N] heard the phone ring. She wished it would stop. [Y/N] rose from bed with some difficulty.

It was clear upon standing up that the only thing that would make her feel better was vomiting. She dashed madly for Coriolanus’ en suite bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet, empty the contents of her stomach for a good couple of minutes. The pressure of her headache decreased afterwards, but the terrible taste in her mouth grew. [Y/N] flushed the toilet and stood in front of the mirror. She had never looked this bad in her life.

Dark ringed eyes, leaking leftover makeup and smeared lipstick, a bold hickey on her neck like a seventeen year old. What had she done?

[Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ burgundy robe off the back of his bathroom door and cinched it around her waist. She walked back through his bedroom. Her knees burned a bit with each step. Maybe from the heels she had worn the night before. Her eyes landed on the flat pillow on the floor right next to Coriolanus’ belt. This seemed like a bad omen.

Suspiciously, [Y/N] walked into the too bright hallway light. [Y/N] stumbled to her own bathroom and frantically brushed her teeth before facing Coriolanus. It hurt to hold her jaw open to brush her molars, but anything to rid herself of the salty, stale taste that had taken up residence. Finally then, she moved into the living room.

There was Coriolanus smiling on the couch like he was most mornings after some sort of party. His hair lacked product and lay rich and curly against his forehead. Boxer shorts and an open dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up left little up to the imagination about his body. He was so pale that he practically reflected the sunlight from the open window back at her like a mirror. Coriolanus was perfect, even first thing. How annoying.

“What time is it?” [Y/N] croaked hoarsely. Coriolanus nearly knocked his mug of bitter coffee off the end table in surprise as he reached for the remote. He abruptly clicked off the television.

“Eleven. There about,” Coriolanus replied, vocally calmer than his body would betray. He rose from the mauve couch and moved to [Y/N]. He ran his hand down the sleeve of his robe that she wore. “Is this mine?” He asked softly.

“Yes, sorry. It was all I could find. I’ll go swap it for—“

“Please. What is mine, is yours,” Coriolanus interrupted. “It suits you,” he said with a hand running across his own gold CSB monogram on the breast pocket of the robe she wore. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, I suppose,” but what she really wanted to say was ‘what did we do last night?’ “And you?”

Coriolanus chanced an animalistic smile. “Last night, you said no more pleasantries.”

[Y/N] scanned her brain for a memory of saying that. She did not remember that phrase specifically, but she did catch a lot more glimpses of her night in her mind’s eye. [Y/N]’s strongest images were her mother’s shocked eyes, the empty glasses of posca, Coriolanus with a red handprint on his cheek, and his hard cock at her eye level.

“Coriolanus, what did I do?” [Y/N] asked, realizing exactly what she had done.

“Which part?” Coriolanus asked cautiously, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. Coriolanus wanted her to feel held and ravished for a moment since he knew she would go ballistic at what was on the TV, in the newspaper, and on the lips of everyone in town. She felt like a still from an old moving picture; being held like that.

“How bad?”

“Hm? Oh, your mouth was lovely—“ he tried to expertly redirect with an innuendo.

That assumption of what they had done had been correct. Damn. “No, shut up, stop. The… The TV, the news, the—“

“Do you want to know?”

[Y/N] felt like deflating. It must have been bad. She thought back to how he had turned off the television so fast when she walked in. “I… Will I like what I see?”

“How about we sit down, Darling?”

Coriolanus sat [Y/N] down gently on the middle cushion of the couch and folded his lanky legs into the seat to her right. She looked worried. Coriolanus hated watching other people worry, it was distracting for him and often created too many new problems. He swallowed down the urge to snap at her for pouting like that. He hated pouting too considering how unproductive it was. The blonde man reached his right hand out and used a pointer finger and thumb to tip [Y/N]’s chin up so she was forced to look him in the eye. “Hey,” he said calmly. “Any press is good press.” Coriolanus repeated their mantra from the night prior.

[Y/N] inhaled through her nose. “Any press is good press.” She agreed. Coriolanus nodded and pressed a dutiful kiss to her temple to praise her for that answer. [Y/N] stared at the dark and glassy TV screen. Coriolanus clicked it on.

A fuchsia haired newswoman sat behind a desk with the regular Capitol News studio set up for an morning gossip show. The headline was plastered on a chiron in the lower third of the screen: ‘SNOW HEIR’S GIRL OUT OF CONTROL.’ In the top right hand corner of the frame was a photo of [Y/N] sobbing on her knees in front of Coriolanus’ who wiped her tears. [Y/N] wasn’t able to listen to the grating anchorwoman who was speculating about whether or not Coriolanus should send [Y/N] to rehab.

Coriolanus watched [Y/N] watch herself on TV. He grew uncomfortable when he couldn’t automatically read her expression. He had prepared himself for some tears and a temper tantrum, but neither came.

“What are you thinking about?” Coriolanus asked her. [Y/N] was too still. She didn’t respond quickly. “[Y/N]?” Coriolanus nudged her with his elbow. “What are you thinking about?”

“The headline.” She finally replied.

Coriolanus bit his bottom lip. He kept his voice as level as she had. “Okay. What about the headline?” He asked.

“Well, it isn’t very good, is it?”

“What?”

“It’s too plain.”

Coriolanus narrowed his eyes. “It’s too plain?”

[Y/N] nodded slowly. She finally ripped her eyes away from the television set and looked up at him. “It’s informative, but it’s not eye catching beyond being alarmist,” She replied. [Y/N] pointed at the TV, smiling. “That’s my picture. That’s us up there, Coryo, and that’s the best headline they could come up with? It’s weak.”

Coriolanus couldn’t recall her calling him Coryo before, even when [Y/N] had heard it from friends, family and classmates. She was saying something. He should have been paying better attention, but [Y/N] looked lovely wearing his robe. “Coryo, are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t. Too bad. Coryo. “I got distracted, I’m sorry, Darling. You were saying?”

“I said, please get me a piece of paper and a pencil. I want to work on something better and call in a suggestion for a correction since obviously—Mmph!“

[Y/N] sentence was never finished. Coriolanus leaned in towards her face and slammed his lips against hers hungrily. Habitually, [Y/N] grabbed his biceps as they toppled flat back onto the couch. Coriolanus wasted little time pressing the tip of his tongue against her lips aggressively. He knew he gave into an open-mouthed makeout too easily, but it was so much fun.

Both pulled back after some time for a breath. “Coriolanus…” [Y/N] panted.

“Coryo, please. Nobody calls me that anymore.” He said, staring down at her.

“Coryo, I want a pencil and a piece of paper.”

“You’re crazy. You want to call in a correction on a story about yourself because you want to make it worse. You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Then tell me some more after you get me—“

“Not yet,” Coriolanus said. His hands untied her robe like she was a gift box. The best present to come out of this engagement party, certainly. “[Y/N], do you know what you did last night?”

“A few things, at least.”

“Very funny. I mean…” Coriolanus sighed. His hormones raced. He could barely make eye contact with her since his eyes were drawn elsewhere. “I mean, you bulldozed your whole life. You Thirteen’d your life off the map.” he said. She nodded. She shivered at the reality of his statement. [Y/N] had nothing left but ashes. She had burned almost every bridge she had.

Except him.

“Not the part with you,” [Y/N] said. She smiled. She said it to please Coriolanus and it seemed to work. He was much easier to play than she thought he was. “You’re all I’ve got left, Coryo.” That was absolutely true. For better or worse, Coriolanus was inevitable.

“Let me take care of you,” Coriolanus said. “You’re about to be my wife. There’s no one else you need. You’re mine. I’m not going to let you fall through the cracks.” He said.

“Promise you won’t?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Coriolanus said honestly, but he didn’t feel strongly enough to really promise. “Do you like these panties?”

“Yes.”

“Shame. I’ll buy you a new set.” There was a horrible tearing sound and after that, Coriolanus’ mouth was on [Y/N]’s pussy. He licked and sucked for all he was worth.

[Y/N] did not expect Coriolanus to be good at this. All this time, she had disallowed him from touching her because she thought he would be a selfish lover. There was still potential that he was, but fuck, Coriolanus sure was good for this. His long thin nose bumped her clit as he pressed his tongue deeper into her folds and she moaned. Her hands sank into his curls.

“Don’t touch my hair.” Coriolanus said into her cunt.

“No,” She said, pulling on his hair. Coriolanus was irked, but let her do it anyway. He had never felt pleasure from someone tugging his hair like that before. [Y/N] wrapped her legs around his shoulders. Coriolanus used his strong, callused hands to hold her thighs open. He was going to make her cum with only his greedy mouth, like she had for him last night.

Quid pro quo. That was the nature of their whole operation, Coriolanus realized. It was fine by him.

It was still early and Coriolanus had the day off. He was ready to make up for lost time. He was going to make her cum in every room of their home. Coriolanus was addicted to her taste. He was addicted to her mind. All of this felt cloaked in danger; it was too personal for Coriolanus. Oh well.

By day’s end, [Y/N] wouldn’t be able to climb out of bed for a couple of days on her own. Coriolanus’ constant tongue-fucking pulling orgasms from her had turned her brain to mush, but not before she was able to force Coriolanus off and jot down a few headlines of her own while he marked up her neck.

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE: FREAK OR FOOL?’

‘CAPITOL’S GOLDEN BOY FALLS FOR BAD GIRL.’

‘ALLEGED CHEATING SCANDAL SHAKES CAPITOL YOUTH.’

‘GAMEMAKER WALKS OUT THE VICTOR AFTER PARTY DISASTER.’

‘’WEDDING IS OFF’ SPECULATES PLINTH FAMILY.’

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE LIES, CHEATS AND STEALS THE NIGHT.’

‘SNOW’S FALLING (STANDARDS).’

Half of her ideas dripped as moans while Coriolanus worked on her pussy. She was weak enough to do little more than pull his hair and try to clench around whatever he pushed into her. [Y/N]’s orgasm-addled mind finally comprehended that Coriolanus made her better. He made her more creative, bolder, and free from every burden except him. Finally, willingly, [Y/N] gave Coriolanus the last thing she had to give: Herself.

It felt fucking incredible

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely

apologies again for the tags that did NOT work.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #the hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #ballad of songbirds and snakes #truculent series

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skyeslittlecorner · 2 months

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How about the kings (plus Lucifer and some of your fav nobles if you could 🥺) reactions with an MC who like to bite out of nowhere 😁 and after they bit they ran away while "😛" them

That's so silly! I relate so much, I also tease people a lot when I like them lmao

Satan loves to see you having fun. And he will play along. Are you nibbling at him suddenly? So get ready for him to bite you too. It will be like playing tag, out of nowhere, but with your teeth instead of your hands. After some time, you will start walking around colorful from your biting, of course you more, because Satan will be happy to mark what is his. He was already used to it when one day, instead of biting him, you gave him a kiss on the shoulder. Then you will get a deep 'you're too sweet to exist' kiss in the mouth. He never knows what to expect from you, and that's the best thing.

Mammon… didn't even notice. He didn't feel it. Might as well be bitten by a mosquito, but then he might at least be itchy. He'll sooner see your disappointment and ask if something's wrong. You won't want to tell him because it's silly, so he orders his nobles to find the answer. Maybe it's something serious? But when you see how earnestly they took it, all you can do is laugh and enlighten this dear king. He'll be relieved that nothing happened to you. Next time if you want to bite him, do it in the mouth.

Beel thought it was great fun. He noticed that you sometimes bite him unexpectedly and suggested a bet. If you manage to surprise him, you've won, and if he catches you, he's won. Of course, you knew you had no chance against his reflexes, and you counted on his memory being flawed. You definitely miscalculated. If he is interested in something, he focuses all his attention on it, and you are certainly such an object. But he'll let you win once or twice, just to see how happy you are.

Leviathan finds this stupid and immature. Why are you doing this at all? It does not make sense. Of course, try to get closer than a meter to someone with that sinister glint in your eye, and before you can do anything, poor subordinate will be hanging six meters above you. Oh, no. Now all you have left to bite is Levi, how sorry he is (not at all).

I wonder how much I will revise all the Lucy parts when he comes out lol

Lucifer doesn't think it's a smart idea. Such a cut may become infected. Moreover, such a cut brings you into contact with blood, and what if it infects you with something incurable? So - you mustn't do that… unless it's him. This is the one and only exception. Doctor's recommendation. (Yes, yes, you believe him too, that it's only about your safety.)

Andrealphus may attack when you first do this. He will grab your blouse and rise you up. You will realize that this wasn't the smartest idea in your life. At the same time, he heard your gasp in surprise, so he knew it was only you, not an angel or anybody with bad intentions. He will apologize, but also warn you not to do that again. Learned reflex. He wouldn't hurt you, but rather slowly get him used to your presence and only then try something like this.

Naberius will look at you with eyes as wide as saucers. So this is how you seek attention? Like a puppy that wants to play? That's adorable. Get ready for this funny gesture to open him up surprisingly. You'll end up being scratched under the chin and behind the ears. (And then try doing it to him, he will fall in love with you even more.)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #whb lucifer #whb andrealphus #whb naberius

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sharkksee · 6 months

Text

The Bird and the Cat !!

―― Damian Wayne x Thief!Reader. 674 words. Part two here.

Damian hates this with every ounce of his being, and he has every reason to hate it. It's not for nothing that he puts on Robin's cape and takes to the streets following his father like a tail dog, hoping to catch the attention of criminals and kick their butts. He does it because it is a duty that he chose and to which he was guided. That's why he made fun of the love relationship between Bruce and Selina, for Damian, it is a hypocritical issue, his father, the hero, dating a thief. How funny.

And now he feels like the hypocrite.

You had just robbed some important men, a suitcase full of money. Damian was doing his daily patrol, when he saw you—he didn't have to blink twice to know it was you―he had already been alert to your activity, knowing that you would appear; because he wants you to do it.

He attacked you as you jumped from building to building, you wouldn't have even noticed his presence until he gave you that strong kick that sent you off your path. He had decided the right moment to attack you as you jumped onto a roof.

The young Robin landed a few meters away from you, he looked at the suitcase that was next to you. He approached with slow steps, and kicked the suitcase away of your grip.

“You lost a life, cat.” Robin sentences, his voice almost a whisper. His hands clench into fists as he looks at you, brow furrowed, watching as you rub your neck from the pain of the fall he caused you.

“Shut up, little bird.” You growled, trying to grab the briefcase containing your robbery target. Damian stepped on the object, narrowing his eyes at you.

“If you have courage, take it,” Damian said, and pulled the R-shaped shuriken from his belt. “Just look how much I care, cat.” He joked calmly, face Stoic with a tone of defiance in his voice, trying to provoke your reaction and show his superiority of the moment. You're just a thief, not a fighter. Damian knows this because he has analyzed you—he is very interested in you.

His green eyes stared at you, a slight smile forming on his face. He liked when you get angry whenever he interrupts your heists, when he stops you from accomplishing your crimes, and you have to fight him. But that's when something never fits: he never gave you up to the police.

You tried to attack him with a punch―or a scratch rather―but you failed horribly. Robin saw your movements and stopped your blow with his hand, looking at you coldly.

Neither of them moved a muscle, frozen at the moment between duty and crime, feeling the pressure course through his veins. His hand moved slowly, holding your wrist.

Why couldn't I arrest you? It was the question Damian couldn't answer, and he wished no one would ask it. He was even doing his best to keep Father from knowing about his failures.

Then, to your surprise, he let go of you, letting his hands fall to his sides. He uttered no words, no sounds, no clicks. He didn't even attack you, as if he was absorbed in another world.

Then you understood, he was letting you escape. You didn't waste the opportunity, although you seemed confused by it.

“Damn cats…” Damian muttered, breathing deeply, his heart beating faster than ever. He watched as you grabbed the suitcase and run away quickly.

Damian felt a rush of adrenaline that filled his entire body. It had been a long time since he had experienced someone who made him feel like this, and now the person who did it turn out to be a thief.

He is experiencing the same thing as his father, a game of cat and mouse. He chases you, defeats you, and pushes you to your limits, as if all he was looking for was your reaction—your attention. The Robin is just like his father, but that irritates him, because he is confused and doesn't know how to react…

Maybe yes, maybe you stole his heart.

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farmerlesbian · 3 months

Text

I'm glad there's starting to be conversation on this webbedsite about the fetishization and constant sexualization and sexual harassment of trans women and transfem nonbinary people.

the solution to transphobia (and transmisogyny particularly) making trans women out to be shameful, gross, disgusting, repulsive, inherently sexual, dehumanized, a fetish, and a joke is not to.... lean in to that!! yes of course, some people are into it. there will always be someone who is down to be objectified! sometimes objectification can be hot! sometimes being the object of someone's fetish can be fun! but that's not everyone, and one person being down shouldn't be taken as a go-ahead to make these statements and "jokes". it shouldn't be the default or assumed method of interaction. it should not be the only way you are capable of expressing yourself around trans women. it should not be the immediate and only answer you come up with to try to show that you're not a transphobe. and it absolutely should not be the response to transfems speaking up about transmisogyny.

it is unacceptable to respond to criticisms of (trans)misogyny by telling (trans) women to get over it and stop complaining and just have sex (with you). the path to unity, community, coalition-building is through genuine listening and concern, real care and respect and love, interrogating ones own biases and misconceptions and misjudgment, not through dismissal, disrespect, ill-placed attempts at humor, lateral aggression and punching down, fetishization, sexualization, and objectification. just, take a moment to think about the implications, self reflect, and consider whether the comments are adding to harmful stereotypes. consider whether the recipient is open to hearing it. consider why it's funny to you.

#farmer lesbian #transphobia #transmisogyny #trans fetishization #mod alfalfa

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webslingingslasher · 10 months

Note

calling frat!peter the wrong name

not in bed but like maybe reader is leave and saying bye and he’s like who the fuck is _____?!

peter won't stop kissing you.

"baby," kiss, "i need," kiss, "to le," kiss, "ave." kiss.

trying to push him away, but failing miserably and laughing, "peter! i have to go, please!" kisses trail to your cheeks, "i think i'll miss you too much, you should stay another day."

"no way, my roommate would send out a smoke signal."

"objection dismissed." he gives you a chaste kiss and wraps his arm around your waist, trying to spin you back to the stairs.

"preston! I have to-"

you both caught yourself on the name.

peter's hold loosens, "who the fuck is preston?"

your hands clasp over your mouth, eyes wide in shock, you had no idea why his name spewed from your mouth.

"hey, girlfriend, who's preston?"

ripping your hands away you reach out for peter, holding his arms tight, scared if he backed away you couldn't recover.

"he's my table partner in lit! no idea why i just said his name, well, i mean, maybe it's cause i was thinking of him?" terrified you just put your foot in your mouth, your hands clasp around his neck and you give a desperate kiss to his chin.

"not like that though! just cause i kinda bailed on our project because my big handsome yummy boyfriend that i'd never cheat on, made me stay with him all weekend."

peter's not thinking anything like that, but knowing you are and it's making you spiral is kind of funny.

"and you just happen to be thinking of him while i'm kissing you?"

"no! not at all! i'm serious, petey."

"and i'm just supposed to believe you?"

"yes! cause i'd never do that to you! you think i'd waste half a year on getting you to be my boyfriend and cheat on you after like, three months?"

"hey, don't question me. i'm not the one calling people by other people's names."

you whine and jump in his arms, "please believe me, do you wanna call him?"

"oh!" his right hand squeezed your hip, "so now you have his number too?"

"no," you look into his eyes and plead him to believe you, "i could get it if you want though, but i promise i'm not cheating on you."

his hands cup your face, he stares into your eyes before cracking a grin. "i know. you'd have to be pretty stupid, and i think you're smart."

"i swear i don't know why i said his name."

peter answers you with a kiss, time slowed when he pulled back.

"it's okay, trouble. but the next time we're having sex and i say selena gomez you can't question me."

"deal, handsome."

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #my writing #frat!peter

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semiweirdshipper · 1 year

Text

Killer reactions to a legally blind reader who had their glasses stolen from them during a trial. (Part one).

Notes: non-binary reader. Warnings for minor, non-graphic violence and injuries.

...

Frank

He found your glasses by an unfinished generator and picked them up. Why were these here? Didn't you need them?

"David? David, give them back. This isn't funny." He heard you say from a distance.

Frank followed the direction of your panicked calls and soon found you stumbling along the trees, your arms out and eyes harshly squinted. Those imbecile team mates of yours must have stolen your glasses. Welp....

Time to give them back.

"Missing something?" He said teasingly, stopping behind you.

You gasped and whipped around, squinting your eyes and asking anxiously, "Who-whose there?"

"Oh, you know, just the delivery boy," Frank walked forward, grabbed your hand and swiftly placed the glasses inside. Then he stepped back and watched as you quickly struggled to put them on, your body going rigid when your eyes adjusted and you saw exactly who it was that returned your glasses to you.

Behind his mask, Frank smirked, amused by the expression of utter disbelief, shock and fear on your adorable face. You were frozen, unable to move as you stared at him as if waiting for something to happen.

He took a few steps closer to you causing you to flinch and whimper in fear. "Shouldn't I get a 'thank you'?" He asked, tilting his head expectantly.

You nodded quickly, saying in a mixture of fear and gratitude, "Th-thank you... very much."

Hmp. Man, you were cute. Frank lifted his hand out, grabbed an edge of your glasses and gently adjusted them. "You're welcome," He said pleasantly, brushing your cheek with a knuckle before turning away to resume the trial.

Caleb

He saw your glasses fall from Meg's hand when he shot her, and he picked them up a few seconds later wondering why she had them in the first place. If he heard correctly, you couldn't see anything without them. So why did Meg have them?

Caleb found out the answer when he saw you struggling to work on a generator. When you heard his footsteps, you anxiously stood up and asked, "Meg? I-is that you? Please, give me my glasses back, I need them."

"Oh, thems 'yir' glasses I got 'ere?" Caleb couldn't help but to tease.

He watched with a chuckle as recognition and then horror bloomed across your face, and you gasped brokenly, turning away to try and feel for an escape. But you were boxed in by the generator, the pillar, and him.

With no other alternative, you hunched in on yourself, shaking in fear while awaiting whatever horrid torment he had in mind for you. "Well hey now, don't go gettin' all scared on me," Caleb set his gun down and stepped closer to you, "Ya want yir second eyes back?"

You whimpered, nodding nervously, "Y-yes... Please?"

"Hold still then," Caleb examined the glasses before going to gently slide them back onto your face. He stayed standing in front of you, eager to see your reaction, "There. That better for ya, sugar?"

He watched as you touched the glasses as if they were a foreign object, your lashes fluttering as you look at him with awe and disbelief. "Thank you," You whispered so softly he barely heard you.

Caleb snickered playfully, leaning closer and mumbling lowly, "This mean I get a reward?"

Bubba

He saw you bumping into walls right after Jake took off sprinting in the opposite direction, and he muttered in suspicion while making his way towards you. At the sound of his chainsaw, you cried in panic and attempted to get away only to trip and fall down.

Bubba squealed in concern, immediately setting aside his chainsaw and hammer so that he could kneel down and help you back up. He chirped in confusion when he saw the lack of glasses on your face, your squinting eyes outlining your dilemma.

"Just kill me," You whined hopelessly, "Th-they took my glasses. I can't see... Just kill me, please."

They stole your glasses? What monsters! Bubba squealed loudly in remorse, his hands patting your back and shoulders as he guided you to sit against the wall. Muttering lowly, he caressed your head and patted your shoulder as a silent command to stay put.

Grabbing his chainsaw and hammer, Bubba took off in search for your glasses. He was angry, and it didn't take him long to kill people whenever he was angry. Within fifteen minutes he had slaughtered the other three survivors, retrieved your glasses, and returned to your side.

Bending down, Bubba carefully placed your glasses back on your face, grinning big in endearment. You were so precious! What Jake did was mean. He squealed, grabbing your hands and helping you up.

"Thank you, Bubba," You say gratefully.

Bubba squealed and hugged you, fondly nuzzling the top of your head. Then he reached down, intersected your hands and began guiding you down the hall. Let's go find you the hatch!

Jeffrey

He witnessed your glasses fall from Nea's hand when he threw her on the hook, and he picked them up with a raised brow. "Ya steal these from (y/n)?" He asked in a dangerous tone.

Nea's answer didn't satisfy him, and let's just say she ended up eviscerated. Afterwards, Jeffrey spent a lot of time hunting you down, cursing when he couldn't find you.

Eventually, he did catch you hiding in a locker. When he wrenched the doors open, he took in the sad sight of you crying in fear and misery, your hands covering your face. "This ain't no way to greet ol' Jeffrey, is it?" He asked, licking his lips.

The way you sniffled and cried harder made him grunt in dissatisfaction. "Here," He nudged your glasses against your arm, "Put them on. Ya ain't no fun when ya can't see."

"Huh?" You blinked in shock, blindly grabbing your glasses and staring at him breathlessly, "You... You're?"

"Waitin' for some appreciation? Yeah, I think I am," Jeffrey huffed, standing back and watching as you slid your glasses on, looking at him shyly. God, you were delectable.

"Thank you," You nodded in visual appreciation, albeit still terrified, "I... I'm sorry they did that..."

"Ain't no reason apologizin' to me," Jeffrey coughed and allowed you enough room to exit the locker. "Besides... Who'd I be not to help my favorite little snack?"

You gasped when Jeffrey grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth, a shudder vibrating through you as he slid his lips across his favorite finger of yours. You blushed heavily, rushing away flustered when he let you go.

Herman

He saw you struggling to seal the wound on your shoulder and soon noticed that you didn't have your glasses. Rumor had it that you were legally blind, and every other time he encountered you, you always had your glasses.

Unleashing his mouth guards, Herman walked closer to you and asked gently, "Miss/Mr. (y/n), where are your glasses?"

"O-ow," You whimpered in pain after messing up patching your shoulder, your body shaking as you braced for an attack, "They were stolen."

"By who?" Herman stopped in front of you, setting down his weapon.

"Yui," You answer sadly.

"Here. May I help you?" Herman kneeled down, skillfully ignoring the Entity as he helped wrap your wounded shoulder. "I apologize for her misbehavior. Should I find your glasses, I will return them to you."

"Wh... Why?" You whispered, squinting your worthless eyes at him, "Why are you helping me?"

Herman didn't answer until he was done bandaging your wound, his eyes glowing pink as he gazed upon you, "What kind of man would I consider myself to be to take advantage of you in such a way?"

As your eyes went wide at his words, Herman stood, grabbed his weapon and briefly promised to return if he was successful in finding your glasses.

After about ten minutes when you were on a generator, Herman handed you your glasses and nodded at your thankful gesture before taking off in a different direction leaving you smiling warmly at his kindness.

Michael

He was in the distance stalking whenever he witnessed Feng steal your glasses and run off leaving you searching helplessly for anchorage. That no good traitor. She made the wrong decision treating you this way.

Leaving you be, Michael hunted down Feng and killed her. Once he realized that she didn't have your glasses, he went and killed the other two survivors but to no avail. Apparently none of them had your glasses.

On his way through the fields searching for you, Michael spotted your glasses broken and shattered on the ground. Guess he wouldn't be returning them after all.

Pinpointing your confused location, Michael marched up to you and peered down at your flinching, helpless figure. As soon as you realized that he wasn't going to harm you, you timidly asked, "Michael?"

Upon confirmation, Michael reached down and grabbed your wrist in a gentle but firm grip. You gasped and tensed up, but otherwise did not fight. "Wh-what's going on?" You whimpered, stumbling in whatever direction he led you.

Michael, unable to respond, simply continued to guide you to the hatch. Those insolent team mates of yours sure were quite the unreliable losers. He had fun killing them. It was a shame that you couldn't see. You might have liked the revenge he conjured for you.

Reaching the hatch, Michael let you go, smirking behind his mask when you grabbed his sleeve and bashfully said, "Thank you... Thank you so much."

#dead by daylight #slashers #fanfiction #reader insert #dead by daylight fanfiction #frank morrison x reader #caleb quinn x reader #jeffrey hawk x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #herman carter x reader #michael myers x reader #Legally blind reader #killers x reader #slasher fanfiction

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alwaysmicado · 2 months

Text

Fleshlight

5.2k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: pwp, D/s dynamic, vaginal fisting, object insertion, p in v (kind of), edging, pussy & face slapping, degradation, dacryphilia, soft(ish) Nathan Summary: Nathan punishes you for being a spoiled brat by edging you in various ways. A/N: I don’t have an excuse for this one...please just know that it’s not my fault. It’s his. Can be read alone or together with my other Nathan fics. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 🤍

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow, his fingers lightly tracing your naked belly. “Go on.”

You shakily exhale, the sensation of Nathan’s touch overwhelming your already oversensitive body. Nathan knows perfectly well that every caress, every contact sends your brain into a frenzy, rendering coherent thought or speech impossible. The self-satisfied smirk on his stupid, handsome face tells you as much.

The fact that he’s stroking his cock while sitting on his heels between your spread legs isn’t helping either.

Not at all.

“Hey,” he slaps you hard across the face when you take too long to answer him. “I’m not telling you again.”

The dark glint in his eyes and the harshness of the slap tell you that he means it. His stinging hand goes back to caressing your naked belly, moving further up to your exposed tits.

You take a second to process the searing pain spreading across your cheek before your brain urges you to speak. “I’m sorry, it just–” Your voice catches in your throat as hot tears well up and trickle down your temples. Your whole body is trembling. “It hurts so bad.”

A sob escapes your quivering lips. They’re swollen and bruised from all the nipping and sucking Nathan��s been doing over the past hour, dried blood visible in the left corner from where he struck you particularly hard.

Nathan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his whole face lighting up with genuine joy at your despair. “If you think this little show of yours is gonna get you out of your punishment, you’re mistaken, baby. Now get the fuck on, or I’ll double it.”

His hand explores your left tit, caressing it, squeezing it, savoring the feeling of your warm, soft skin.

“I don’t deserve to come because I’m a spoiled brat,” you whine as he brushes over your erect nipple, a jolt of electricity shooting through you.

“Hmm, is that so?” he asks facetiously, pinching your nipple and tugging on it so hard you cry out and yank at the cuffs binding you to Nathan’s bed, writhing in pain and ecstasy.

At this point, you could probably come from him pinching your nipple long enough.

“Yes,” you pant, your chest heaving as he’s moved on to your right tit, circling your nipple with the pad of his middle finger.

“You know, it’s funny. I hear your words, but I still don’t think you actually mean them.”

Nathan abandons his cock to reach for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, pouring a generous amount of the cold fluid onto his right hand. Your alert eyes follow each of his movements, and a whimper escapes your lips as you realize what’s coming.

“‘Cause you wouldn’t be such a whiny crybaby if you really meant what you said,” he sighs, his dark eyes studying your face with satisfaction. You’re sweaty, teary-eyed, desperate, and undeniably beautiful.

He spreads the lube over his fingers, his palm, and the back of his hand, meticulously coating them in the slick substance. With a swift motion, he wipes his left hand on the towel beside your torso before sliding his lubed-up fingers up and down your puffy folds. Your eyes flutter shut at his touch, and a moan escapes your lips as you eagerly arch your hips, craving more of his touch.

A harsh slap on your swollen, oversensitive clit jolts your eyes back open as you cry out in agony. Overwhelming pain shoots through your body, leaving you gasping and writhing against the restraints. Desperately, you attempt to wriggle away and close your legs, but the taut ropes don’t allow you to move much at all.

They’re attached to the cuffs around your wrists and your thighs, right above your knees, connected to the headboard. You have no chance of getting away.

You’re bound, helpless, spread open—completely at Nathan’s mercy.

The stinging sensation from his slap is so painful that a fresh wave of tears streams down your temples, your attempts to stifle the pained noises leaving your lips proving futile.

“I decide how and when to touch you, slut,” Nathan purrs in a deceptively calm voice. “You understand?”

When you don’t respond quickly enough, he delivers another sharp strike to your clit, eliciting a mixture of yelps from you, blending agony and elation. Your body’s wound so tightly that if he keeps this up, he’ll make you come from his slaps alone.

“Yes,” you blurt out, tears stinging your eyes. “I understand.”

Nathan’s been edging you for what feels like an eternity—torturing you with his tongue, his fingers, his voice. Each time he’d get you close to coming, he’d stop all movement, reveling in the progressively more desperate pleas and screams falling from your lips.

“What’s your color, baby?”

He watches your face intently as he slides three fingers inside you in one swift movement, leisurely fucking your dripping wet pussy.

“Green,” you moan, arching your back as your walls clamp down hard around Nathan’s digits. His left hand grips your thigh, his fingertips digging into your skin.

Satisfied with your answer, he pulls his fingers out of you and glides his lubed-up hand through your folds, tracing a path from your swollen clit down to your asshole. After thoroughly covering you in lube, he withdraws his hand and looks at your face. Your eyes are filled with lust, your pupils dilated, your gaze locked onto Nathan’s dark eyes.

“Mmm, I love when you look at me like that, slut,” he murmurs, brushing his fingertips over your clit.

The low sounds of pleasure from your lips are sweet, but Nathan’s searching for harder sounds of ecstasy.

Holding onto your hip with his left hand, he slides his fingers back inside you, adding his pinky this time, slowly pushing all four fingers all the way in. You gasp as he stretches you, holding his fingers inside you so you can adjust to them. Encouraged by your desperate noises, he rotates his hand clockwise and counter-clockwise, feeling your muscles gradually yield and welcome the intrusion.

Your body trembles under his touch, each sensation sparking a surge of electricity that courses through you, igniting every nerve ending with a fiery intensity.

With an extra little push, the big knuckles of Nathan’s hand press against your glistening, stretched lips, your moans escalating into a squeal of ecstasy.

“Oh, fuck, Nathan!”

He holds his hand still for a moment, scanning your face for any signs of discomfort, before easing back an inch and gradually sliding back in. Your body responds with urgency, writhing against the restraints as you moan and whimper at the sensation of Nathan's knuckles disappearing inside you.

“Almost there, my filthy little whore,” he murmurs, amazed by the elasticity of your pussy.

He squeezes more lube onto his exposed hand and maintains the slow, rhythmic in-and-out movement. After a minute, he reaches the point where all he has to do is tuck in his thumb and push, and his hand would slide in the rest of the way.

“You wanna feel my fist inside you, slut?” Nathan’s dark eyes pierce yours, the hunger you can see in them causing your pussy to clench around his fingers.

“Yes,” you let out, breathless, helpless. You’re a puddle from his touch, and all you want is for him to keep filling you, your desire for him insatiable.

After a few more pumps, he pulls his fingers out almost completely, and moves his thumb into their wet embrace. Slowly, savoring the delicious feeling of your warm cunt around his fingers, he pushes all five digits into you, past the first knuckles, past the second knuckles, holding them still for a moment, listening to your breath, to your rising sounds of ecstasy.

Nathan begins to move his hand out slightly, then in slightly, his wrist twisting subtly with each motion. With every inward push, his hand penetrates a little deeper, methodically stretching you and testing your limits. He halts with the base of his thumb resting against your opening, teasingly maneuvering his hand in and out before applying pressure once more.

Each push elicits another moan from you as his hand slips deeper, gradually stretching you open. To distract you, he pinches your clit as the base of his thumb disappears inside you.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages you as his hand slides fully into your cunt, your muscles closing around his wrist. He keeps his hand still, allowing your body to adjust to the stretch.

You moan, deep and low, trying not to move at all. Any movement touches upon his hand inside and causes a delicious pain he’s only made you feel once before. Gasping for air, you struggle to maintain your composure.

“Breathe, baby. Slowly, in and out,” Nathan coaxes, his voice a soothing contrast to the intensity of the moment.

You let your head fall back onto the soft pillow and do as instructed, focusing on slowing your breath and calming your racing heart.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “You feel so fucking good.”

Nathan’s in heaven. There is nothing in the world he could ever buy or create to equal the intoxicating rush of power he’s feeling right now. With deliberate care, he curls his fingers into a fist, and he holds you, owns you completely. In this moment, you are wholly his, lost in ecstasy, panting and whimpering as your body submits to his command.

He feels your walls tense, wrapping tightly around his fist, then relax slightly. Your face contorts in agonized bliss as he rotates his wrist, feeling the walls of your flesh rub against his hand and knuckles.

“Oh fuck,” you groan as he begins to slowly thrust his fist in and out of you, the squelching sounds coming from your dripping hole amplifying the arousal between you both.

“I’m–I’m so full. It—shit—it feels too good, Nathan. You’re—oh fuck—you’re gonna make me come like this.”

“Look at you,” Nathan chuckles, increasing the pace of his strokes, while his other hand pinches your clit. You yelp, feeling yourself edging closer with every movement of his fist inside your cunt.

“You’re a filthy little whore, aren’t you?” he says, his breathing labored. “Yeah, you are. Letting me destroy your pussy like this and enjoying it. Filthy.”

You rock your hips, your body responding eagerly to Nathan’s touch, every sensation heightened to an almost unbearable intensity. Suddenly, you feel the overwhelming urge to come, knowing you can’t hold it back much longer.

“Please, Nathan, can I please come?” you cry out, your pussy contracting around his hand, your legs trembling. “Please, I–I can’t–”

You hear his harsh voice, “No, baby. You better hold it or you’ll be in even more trouble.”

You barely comprehend what he says to you, but you can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s not going to relent. He doesn’t give you a second to rest, continuously sliding his slick hand in and out of your pussy, greedily absorbing your delicious groans.

You close your eyes as you strain every single muscle in your body, biting your lip so hard you can taste blood, doing everything in your power to resist tipping over the edge.

“Open your eyes,” Nathan’s voice penetrates your foggy mind. “Look at me.”

You have to fight to open your eyelids.

Nathan’s gaze darkens, locking onto yours, willing you to keep your focus on him. Your body is slick with sweat, chest heaving with each labored breath as you find yourself enveloped in a haze—a trance of pure ecstasy, pain, and submission.

Nathan’s eyes drift downwards to where your bodies are connected, marveling at the sight of his wrist wrapped by your eager lips. His cock is throbbing, leaking precum onto the bed, begging for release. With a sense of reverence, he holds his hand still inside of you for a few moments longer, relishing the sensation, all while studying your expression and absorbing the symphony of your blissful pain.

“Please, Nathan,” you whine, tears welling up in your eyes, spilling over, and running down your temples. Nathan’s cock twitches at the sight.

“No, baby, you’re not allowed to come,” he says calmly, his tone laced with feigned pity, even as he continues to slide his fist in and out consistently. His eyes bore into yours and you feel like he’s penetrating your soul.

“You came into the lab looking like a hooker, interrupting my work because you were bored. I explained to you that I was busy and that you’d have to wait until I was done. You were mouthy and acted like an entitled princess, so I told you to leave and that you’d be punished. This is your punishment. You’re not allowed to come for a week and during that time, I’ll edge you as much as I please.”

“I know, I know,” you stammer, your voice breaking. “I’m so–sorry, Nathan, please.”

“Not good enough, baby. You made your choice, and now you have to face the consequences like a big girl.”

Feeling your walls flutter around his fist and hearing your moans grow louder, Nathan stops all movement, keeping his hand nestled inside you, waiting patiently for the wave of ecstasy to subside.

Your pathetic whimpering only serves to fuel Nathan’s arousal further, his cock aching to finally get some relief. Deciding that you’ve been stretched enough for what he’s got planned for you, he begins the slow process of withdrawing his hand from your cunt.

“Deep breaths, baby,” he whispers, lightly brushing over your clit with his left thumb.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!” Your cries echo through the room as your tortured pussy begins again to open wide for him.

“That’s it,” Nathan murmurs, his voice a husky blend of primal satisfaction and raw desire, on the verge of coming untouched as he watches his hand slowly sliding out of his favorite place in the world, your trembling, slick lips parting reluctantly to release him.

The gentle grazing of his hand against your walls ignites waves of exquisite pain, and as his knuckles spread you open, the sensation intensifies, stretching you to your limits and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your body.

“Please, Nathan, please, please, please,” you whimper, your pleas escaping in a desperate cascade of need. Your mind wanders, losing itself in another realm where you soar, liberated and weightless.

Nathan can feel the involuntary pressure of your body starting to push him out, but he resists the pressure to avoid a sudden exit that might cause you to faint. He needs you awake.

“Easy, baby,” he whispers, softly stimulating your clit with his thumb again.

As his hand slowly emerges from your raw, sensitive pussy, your body begins to shudder. Your abused hole is gaping, liquid flowing from its opening. Your eyes are glossy as you look at Nathan, your tongue absentmindedly licking over your chapped lips.

He sits back on his heels and lightly pets your thighs, spreading the combination of lube and your slickness across your skin.

“Color, baby?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You take a deep breath before responding, “Green.”

“Very good,” he acknowledges with a smile, giving your clit a tap before rising from the bed. “Cause I’m not done with you.”

He walks over to the nightstand, picks up the glass of water, and brings it to your lips. With a supportive hand, he steadies your neck, encouraging you to take a few sips.

Satisfied with your intake, he gently lowers your head back onto the pillow and sets down the glass. Then, he retrieves something from the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

His smirk worries you.

As he’s moved away from the bed, your gaze is drawn to the mirrors opposite the bed, reflecting your disheveled form. You observe your puffy, glistening folds, the wet spot on the sheets between your legs, your red eyes, your bruised and bloody lips—you’re a complete mess. A complete, happy mess.

Nathan rounds the bed, standing in front of you with the object of his desire. It takes your hazy brain a few seconds to register what he’s holding in his hand, but when you do, your face falls, and all you can do is let out a pathetic little whimper.

No.

He wouldn’t…right?

Oh, who are you kidding, of course he would.

He scoffs at your shocked face as he spreads lube around the silicone fleshlight, taking his time to insert his slick fingers into the tight opening, humming in satisfaction at the sensation.

“Dumb baby,” he coos sardonically. “Did you honestly think I was gonna fuck your loose pussy after I just ruined it with my fist? I wouldn’t feel shit.”

He kneels on the bed before your spread legs again, pumping his cock slowly with his lubed-up hand. Your wide eyes follow his every movement, the desire to feel him deep inside you, to come around his cock, to have him fill you up consuming your entire being.

But you realize that none of that is going to happen.

Instead, Nathan teases your entrance with the fleshlight, eliciting a low moan from you. He starts pushing it in slowly, only an inch or two at a time, before smoothly withdrawing it again. The sensation is quite nice, like he’s fucking you with a thick dildo, and after having his whole fist inside you, the toy glides in and out of you without much resistance.

Finally, he pushes it in until it’s fully seated inside you, leaving it there to fill you completely.

“That’s much better,” he says with a smirk as he brushes over the silicone clit and further upwards over yours a few times, then lines the tip of his cock up with the silicone lips that are beautifully framed by yours. He slides inside with one smooth thrust, groaning at the delicious feeling of the ribbed texture massaging his length.

“Fuck me, that feels good,” Nathan moans, his cock twitching inside the fleshlight as he observes your pained expression. “Such a perfect, tight pussy.”

He leans over you, his face hovering above yours, his hands resting on the bed next to your torso.

“Do you feel that, you little slut?” he murmurs as he thrusts his hips, his balls hitting your asshole repeatedly. “Do you feel how I’m fucking this tight pussy, huh?”

When he notices tears welling up in your eyes, he crashes his lips onto yours, his tongue sliding between your lips with a fervent hunger. As you eagerly reciprocate his kiss, moaning into his mouth, you can taste yourself on his lips and beard from when he ate you out earlier, the heady flavor sending your senses reeling.

Breaking the kiss and straightening back up, Nathan firmly holds onto your thighs as he mercilessly fucks the fleshlight. His gaze never wavers as he tells you what a good little sleeve you are for his favorite pussy, how much he enjoys fucking it, or while detailing his plans to use it in your ass so you can cockwarm him all night long.

Every single word that spills from his lips has you dripping and moaning, lost in a whirlwind of desire and submission. There’s something so incredibly humiliating yet undeniably exciting about being taken by him like this.

You love hearing his groans, you love feeling his possessive grip on your thighs, you love the feeling of his cock slamming into the fleshlight inside you—but at the same time, an increasingly big part of you is struggling with what you know is coming next.

He’s going to have an orgasm and you’re not. It’s your punishment.

The feeling of almost unbearable frustration that you know will well up within you when he fills the silicone pussy with his cum but leaves you aching is something you both crave and dread.

You’ll be all revved up with no possible release, and that’s brutal.

You try to focus on the stimulation you’re getting from the fleshlight moving inside you as Nathan keeps fucking it. And, more importantly, you try your hardest to focus on the pleasure you’re making him feel, rather than getting preoccupied with the fact that you won’t be getting any physical release.

Most of the time when edges you, you don’t have very much trouble with it, but for some reason today, it’s much more difficult for you to handle.

Nathan pulls you out of your thoughts as he moves his hands from your thighs to your tits and starts squeezing them so roughly that it’s painful. You guess that this means he’s about to come—he loves hurting you when he’s close.

Sure enough, a few strokes later he’s coming with a low groan, digging his nails deeply into your tits at the exact moment he shoots his load into the silicone pussy.

He keeps his cock buried deep inside the fleshlight for a few moments, allowing himself to empty his balls completely and catch his breath. Then, he leans back, letting his cock slide out. The sight of his cum dripping out of the fake pussy inside yours is something he wants to treasure forever.

And he can—thanks to the two 4k cameras recording everything that ever happens in his bedroom.

“Relax, baby,” you hear him say before you feel him slowly pull the fleshlight out of you. He lays it down on the towel next to you, then directs his attention to your gaping pussy. Mesmerized, he gently spreads your lips with his thumbs, his soft cock witching at the sight of your abused hole.

While Nathan’s inspecting you closely, like you’re an android he’s trying to perfect, your head is swimming with all the intense emotions you’re feeling—the deep satisfaction and pride at having pleased Nathan by enduring his punishment, the physical pain, your own frustration.

It’s all completely overwhelming.

You’re just grateful that, now that it’s over, you’ll have some time to calm down. Right now, you want to come desperately, and it will take you a while to get past that feeling, but you know you’ll be able to manage it eventually.

That’s why you’re so shocked by the sudden sensation of Nathan’s right hand between your legs, rubbing, while his left hand wanders up to your tits, squeezing them alternately.

You moan and close your eyes, lost in the ecstatic feeling of his touch. He’s drawing tight circles on your clit, knowing exactly how you like to be touched, and it feels incredible.

But only half of your brain is overcome with pleasure. The other half is in full-on panic mode. You already know for a fact he isn’t going to let you come, so this is just another round of torture for his sadistic amusement.

His fingers feel so painfully good on you, far too good. He keeps alternating between squeezing your tits and digging his nails into them with his hand, intensifying the sensation of his fingers rubbing your swollen clit.

With how sensitive you already feel from him eating you out, edging you, fisting you and kind-of-fucking you, it’s only a matter of minutes before you’ll be getting close again.

You’re usually pretty good at coping with the pain of repeated denial, but right now, you feel like your level of frustration goes past your ability to handle it. The thought of reaching the precipice again, getting so close that another second would bring you to the orgasm you want so badly, is just too much to bear.

You can’t do it without losing your mind. There’s no way.

“No, no, no, please, Nathan, I can’t…Not again, please,” you plead, genuine panic evident in your strained voice.

Nathan slows the movement of his fingers on your clit, raising his head to meet your eyes with intense focus.

“Look at me, concentrate on me, baby,” you hear him say in a stern yet calm voice. “Do you trust me?”

You bite your lip hard, close your eyes with a deep exhale, then open them again. “Yes,” you choke out, your throat tight as you struggle to focus on his words. Your heart races, pounding so hard you fear it might burst from your chest.

“Listen to me,” Nathan commands. “I want you to calm down and relax, do you understand?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice strained.

“This isn’t up for debate. I want it, it will please me. You belong to me, your body belongs to me, and I will use it how I see fit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Nathan,” you repeat weakly.

He returns his attention to your pussy, skillfully stimulating your clit. His eyes never leave yours as he relishes the pained expression on your face. “You’re doing great, baby. Keep breathing and stay focused on me.”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, involuntarily rocking your hips as Nathan, yet again, brings you closer and closer to your high with every precise movement of his fingers.

“I’m gonna come soon,” you pant, your voice tinged with hope and desperation, wishing he would relent before it becomes too overwhelming.

“Very good. But I’m not going to stop until you’re right on the edge.”

“Okay,” is all you can get out, resigned to your fate.

It only takes another minute. You feel the orgasm building inside you, right there, ready to wash over you in just another second. You feel a tiny, nagging impulse to lie, to tell him it’s come on so fast you couldn’t stop him in time. But you know if you did that, you’d feel so guilty you wouldn’t even be able to enjoy the orgasm.

So, instead, you yell, “Stop!”

He does, sitting back on his heels, hands off your body.

You yank at the restraints securing your wrists and legs, writhing and screaming at the torturous feeling of your imminent orgasm being taken from you so cruelly. Your clit burns and pulsates, and your sore pussy clenches around nothing in a vain attempt to bring you to completion.

You take deep breaths, attempting to steady yourself. Your chest is heaving and your body’s trembling uncontrollably. Whimpers and sobs escape you as you bury your face into the pillow, eyes tightly shut.

Your orgasm was so fucking close, and having it ripped away by a man whose smirk you could see through tear-filled eyes has you ready to punch a wall…or claw his eyes out.

You feel a very unsubmissive urge to tell Nathan he’s a bastard for doing this to you. He knows damn well how hard edging is on you, so why the hell is he putting you through this? Just because you wanted to spend more time with him? It’s not fair.

He’s already untied both of your legs and let them down gently, making sure you slowly stretch them for the first time in over an hour. He kneels beside your torso, releasing you from the cuffs around your right, then your left wrist. He watches your face intently, savoring your tears and the pained sobs escaping your swollen lips.

If you weren’t sore, he’d fuck you right now. You’re so beautiful when you’re hurting.

You turn onto your left side, away from Nathan, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You’re scared by how angry you are at him and want to feel as small as possible because it makes you feel safe.

Nathan lies on his side behind you, drawing the covers over your trembling body. Propping his head up on his hand, he places his palm on your shoulder, stroking your arm gently. Your muscles tense at his touch, conflicted emotions swirling within.

“You wanna come, baby?” he coos, a hint of sadistic amusement in his voice.

What the fuck do you think?

You don’t say anything, weak sniffles occasionally breaking your silence.

Nathan sighs deeply but decides to let your non-response slide. He’s pushed you a lot today, and as he observes your fragile state, he’s prepared to cut you some slack.

“Tell me why I’m not letting you.” He puts a soft kiss on your damp shoulder blade, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“Because my pain makes you happy,” you say, your voice strained.

“Yeah, well, that’s a given,” Nathan says with a hint of amusement. “But seriously, I want you to tell me why I’m not letting you come.”

You’re biting your tongue so hard to refrain from saying something you’ll regret, acutely aware that your frustration is clouding your ability to find the part of your mind where the right answer Nathan’s looking for is located.

He gives you a moment to gather yourself, confident you’ll be able to overcome your anger.

Eventually, you relent. “I don’t deserve to come because I’m a spoiled brat,” you murmur into your pillow. “I–I lashed out at you today because I felt neglected and that wasn’t the way to go about it. I need to be punished for that and I trust you to make the right decision about what that punishment should look like.”

Nathan listens attentively, his expression softening as he hears your words. “That’s exactly right, baby,” he says gently, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your shoulder blade and neck. “See? Even a dumb little toy like you gets it eventually.”

He sits up, leaning against the headboard. “Come here,” he murmurs, motioning for you to lay on him. Meeting his gaze for a second, you obediently nestle your head on his warm skin, your left arm draped over his torso.

He allows you a moment to calm down, gently scratching your scalp, the rhythmic beat of his heart relaxing you. You savor the fleeting intimacy, fully aware that he’ll soon ask you to leave as he has an important meeting scheduled in half an hour.

Your ears perk up when his low voice breaks the silence, his chest vibrating with each word. “I know edging is hard for you, and I’m glad to hear you understand why things need to be this way. I’m proud of you.”

You nuzzle your head against his chest, an overwhelming feeling of warmth spreading through you. Nathan’s proud of you. No orgasm in the world could ever compare to the feeling of hearing those words from him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you today,” you murmur.

“Apology accepted,” he says, his tone sincere. “Now, go to the bathroom and take a shower. Dinner’s ready in twenty minutes and I bought that stupid Dune movie you won’t shut up about.”

You lift your head and stare at him in disbelief, convinced that your brain—or Nathan—is playing a trick on you. You’re so confused.

“But what about the meet–”

He raises an eyebrow. “If your ass is not out of this bed in the next ten seconds, I’m tying you up again, and I promise you won’t like what I’ll do to you then.”

You can’t hold back the dopey grin that spreads across your face as you pull back the covers and scurry to the bathroom as fast as your weak legs will allow.

Nathan watches with an imperceptible smile as your silhouette disappears behind the automatic door.

– – –

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