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slytherinslut0 · 8 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over

VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY

Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex

"You look so fucking sexy..."

large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.

One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.

"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."

Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.

In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.

"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."

Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.

Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.

"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."

"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."

His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.

Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?

You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.

You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.

You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

You should be happy, but you're not.

When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"

When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.

Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.

As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.

"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"

You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."

"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"

He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.

"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"

"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."

"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."

Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"

When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.

"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"

Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.

"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"

He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.

"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."

His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.

His name. "Mattheo..."

"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."

Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.

"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."

He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."

More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."

He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.

"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."

"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."

At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.

"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."

"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"

Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."

Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.

When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.

You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.

"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."

"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"

"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"

Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"

"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."

Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.

"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."

Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."

Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.

You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.

Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.

At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.

"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.

"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"

Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.

He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.

You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.

"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."

Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.

"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"

"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."

Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."

Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.

When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.

His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.

"Matty..."

Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."

You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.

As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.

"Mattheo, I swear to-"

A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.

"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."

You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."

His lips parted. "Good girl.”

His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.

"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"

"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.

"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.

"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."

"Please what?" He growled.

Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.

"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."

"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."

A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.

"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."

He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.

"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."

As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.

And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.

"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."

You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."

With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.

"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.

"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-"

A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.

"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."

Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.

You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.

As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.

"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."

When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.

"No," you whispered. "We aren't."

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perlelune · 2 months

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Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way.

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields.

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence.

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other.

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air.

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch.

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features.

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks.

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood.

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.”

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips.

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly.

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey.

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…”

He cups your cheeks.

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes.

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words.

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind.

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it.

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent.

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes.

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles.

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace.

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber.

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure.

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare.

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts.

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor.

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw.

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat.

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs.

Paul’s cock is in your mouth.

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones.

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength.

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin.

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you.

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying.

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs.

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes.

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do.

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth.

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips.

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch.

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock.

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says.

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects.

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you.

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it?

You are no one’s concubine.

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes.

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet.

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions.

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room?

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror.

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity.

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds.

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh.

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs.

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls.

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once.

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong.

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

#paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #dune fanfiction #dune #dark!paul atreides #dark!paul atreides x reader #dune part two #paul atreides x you #paul atreides imagine #dune part 2

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joonberriess · 6 months

Text

⊹₊ ⋆ “i just been fantasizin', and we got a lotta time, baby, come throw the pipe, gotta know what it's like,”

TAGS — vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pussy eating, light degradation, slight dirty talk, jk’s possessive here, oc’s a cute bean, daddy kinks, some nipple play, public sex, unrealistic sex to me bc how tf did no one see???, pimp!jk, stripper!oc, oc needs to know, WAP WAP WAP, this is for my birthday babes, praise kink(?), happy birthday @hyunjinswifeee this is late sorry :((

WORD COUNT — 3.3 k

Wanna know what it's like, baby, show me what it's like, I don't really got no type, I just wanna fuck all night,

The crowd becomes completely immersed in your smooth hip gyrations and body rolls, they holler and catcall while endless money falls at your feet. Tonight’s a special night, you figured why not spend it at work getting money rained on you. All you really had to do was dance because your oh so lovely boss prohibited you from being requested by the club patrons.

Speaking of your boss, he too was in the crowd just right above you in his private balcony. He was watching with those dark onyx eyes of his, filled with desire and hunger. Each time you looked up he was staring right back down. Jungkook looked so fucking good sprawled out like that over the velvet couch with one hand nursing a glass of whiskey, his hair wild and unkept. Just the display of dominance and power had you weak in the knees.

You bit your bottom lip and slowly ran your hands down your body before reaching back to grip the pole tightly and slowly walking around it. You wanted him to know that you were very much on the same page. The cheers from everyone spurred you on as you spun high on the pole with your head thrown back, the screams grew louder and the crowd wilder as they fought each other to get a better view.

I just been fantasizin', and we got a lotta time, baby, come throw the pipe, gotta know what it's like,

You hold your breath and slowly slide down as your eyes flicker back up to Jungkook who is now standing leaned over the balcony. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, tongue poking the inside of his cheek and a lit cigar sitting in his hand. You decide to kick it up a notch. Just a tiny bit.

The lights suddenly go out and your shadow is illuminated by fuschia pink LED lights all around you. No one can see a thing but your silhouette as you reach behind you to unclip your bra. The club goers lose it as you dangle the item teasingly in the air before tossing it into the crowd wishing it was Jungkook you were throwing it at.

“More, more, more,” they chant as you move sensually. Luckily another bouncer comes to hand you another bra top to put on just before the lights around you snap back on.

You're exciting, boy, come find me, your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me" fuck that feeling both us fighting, could he try me? Mmm, most likely,

You mouth along to the song while staring right at Jungkook, a tiny smile adorning your lips as you spin around once more on the pole. You don’t look over for the rest of the dance because you’re too nervous to face the outcome. This was the first time you’ve pulled a move other than looking at him and giving Jungkook “fuck me” eyes.

When the show ends you’re pulled to the side by a squealing Soyeon and a giggling Soojin. “Did you not fucking see the look he gave you when you did that?!” Soyeon gasps, “He literally looked so fuckin’ pissed—in a good way though—like he did that thing he does with his tongue and cheek and then he pulled one of his guys to the side!”

“He wants you for real.” Soojin smirks as she pokes your side, “Looks like the birthday girl is gonna get some dick tonight.” She coos in your ear while cupping your tits in her hands, “So what’s your plan, hmm?” She lays her chin over your shoulder, Soyeon nods too and waits for your response.

You contemplate for a second but quickly make up your mind, “I think you guys already know,” you lean back into Soojin with a playful little smile, “who wouldn’t?”

“True,” Soyeon nods, “but you have to tell us the details okay? You gotta tell me if that thing he’s carrying is like nine inches or something.” She looks pretty serious and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat as you reply ‘then why don’t you find out?’ She gives you an almost offended look, “Girl that’s your man first of all, secondly I got my own.” She winks.

The three of you chat a little more until Namjoon, one of Jungkook’s closest bodyguards, comes through the door searching the room. When he makes eye contact with you he strides over with a friendly demeanor, “y/n, right?” He tilts his head a little to the side, “Jungkook’s asking for you, said if you could meet him up in the balcony?”

You nod in a heartbeat, “I’m just gonna clean up a little, ‘m a little sweaty ‘n stuff.” You softly reply as Soojin gets to quickly re-touching your makeup. He nods understandingly and murmurs a low “Come up when you’re ready.” After he leaves, Soojin and Soyeon slowly turn to you with little smirks on their faces and brushes in their hands.

When you reach the balcony you come across Jungkook sprawled out on the sofa with both arms stretched out. He looks a hot mess with the way his tie is hazardously tossed to the side and his white button-up sits messily undone over his chest. “Seems like we’ve finally met.” He hums.

“Hello Mr Jeon,” you softly greet like the polite little thing you are. Your eyes flicker down to the gold cross hanging over his chest, not missing the way his eyes flashed when you said ‘Mr Jeon’. It’s nerve wracking looking into his eyes because Jungkook always held eye-contact and you hated how he made you cower in delight, “I thought I wasn’t allowed to be requested by patrons.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly and brings the cigar up to his lips taking a long drag from it, “Oh? And does that include me too sweetheart?” A pleasant little shiver runs down your spine when the pet name rolls off his tongue so smoothly. You find yourself craving for more.

“I don’t know,” you softly say while inching closer, you come to a stop in front of him, “does my boss consider himself to be included..?” You teasingly run your finger over his shoulder and slowly lower yourself on his thigh, “Does he?” Jungkook’s nostrils flare as he blows the smoke to the side, dropping the cigar on to the ashtray below.

“You wanna give me a dance, is that it sweetheart?” Jungkook drawls out lazily. His eyes inch downwards as he admires the pretty little “outfit” you got on. It reminds him of the little show you put on out there.

Your breath hitches when he grabs the hanging garter string between two fingers and twirls it around in his hold. “...is a dance what you want?” You reply breathily.

Jungkook lays his hand flat on your thigh and strokes over it slowly, idly rubbing his hand up and down over the soft skin. “You offering me more sweetheart?” He licks his lips, “You gonna be a good girl and put on a show like out there—give me a private show just for little ol’ me?” He leans closer to you with his hot breath fanning over your chin and lips.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, “ ‘s not fair.”

He grins and noses along your jawline towards your slender neck, “Not fair? How so sweet girl?” He whispers as his thumb rubs soothing circles on your inner thigh, “Hm?” He blows in your ear causing goosebumps to form all over your body.

You tilt your head to look at him, “Because, it’s my birthday.” Your eyes drop down to his lips as you unconsciously lick your own, “Aren’t you gonna wish me happy birthday?” You whisper.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook looks up at you in amusement as he leans closer, “Happy birthday sweetheart.”

Jungkook gently slips his lips against yours, barely moving as he inched his hand upward between your thighs. You’re so lost in the taste of him as you let your thighs fall open invitingly, and your hands came up to rest over his shoulders. Jungkook grunts under his breath, he moves his lips sensually over yours causing wet smacking noises to fill the space between you two. You softly whine as your lips become glossy and kissed raw from Jungkook’s little bites and harsh kisses.

“Why don’t you lay back, hm? Gonna show you what birthday girls get from me,” he presses a chaste kiss to your neck as he slowly guides you on your back, “there you go, just like that baby—yea..spread ‘em for me.” He watches you in pure delight over how well you’re following his instructions.

You stare up at him with a dazed look, “Do you give every birthday girl this?” You purse your lips in annoyance just thinking about all the other girls who have probably been under him like this.

Jungkook toys with the strap of your bra, “No, just ones that like to tease me on stage.” He smirks as he hooks his finger under the middle of the bra, he tugs it downward until both tits spill out from the cups, “Will you look at that..” He murmurs appreciatively when he sees your pretty pebbled nipples, “I wonder if you’re pretty everywhere else too.”

Your lips part to say something but Jungkook leans down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. You sigh quietly and enjoy the feeling of his wet hot tongue circling and licking over your nipple. He moves his other hand to your other tit and gently wraps his hand around the doughy flesh. Jungkook pulls away and leaves a small trail of spit over your hard nub, as he rolls and kneads your tit in his other hand.

A surprised little “oh!” escapes your lips when he dives down to suck on the other nipple. “Mm–wait,” you throw your head back when his other hand dips low between your thighs, pressing two fingers over your drenched pussy. He teases your clit through your panties as he presses the soaked material against your slicked up cunt.

He hums to himself and pulls away to trail kisses down the middle of your body. His other hand slides down your side until he’s resting it against your hip where the waistband of your panties sits. “Been dreaming bout this day n night sweetheart, you don’t even know how fuckin’ crazy you drive me.” He hooks two fingers under the waistband, “You make it so hard for a man sometimes, you got me fiending like a dog for you.” He growls.

You look down at him and slip your hands over his, “Then make me yours,” you breathily whisper, “ ‘s all yours,” you dreamily smile while hooking your thighs over his shoulders.

Jungkook all but tears your panties off with a loud riiip. He leaves open mouthed kisses trailing down until his mouth’s hovering over your pussy, he wastes no time in letting his tongue dip between your folds. He laps at your messy folds and lays his tongue flat against your clit as he flicks it back and forth teasingly. You quickly become a whimpering mess under him.

He uses his grip to bring your cunt closer to his face, his hands slip under your ass cheeks and he grips both cheeks in his palms. Your eyes flutter shut as you slip your hands into his hair, you wonder if anyone was watching right now. The balcony itself had a thick siding but the thought of them watching Jungkook and you sent delicious little tremors down your spine. “Mm–like that,” you whisper softly while lifting your hips more for him.

It feels like he’s making out with your pussy with the way he’s licking and sucking at your chubby folds, taking a lip into his mouth as he sucks on it teasingly before dipping back in to tease your clit. A choked up moan escapes when his tongue slips lower and pokes at your winking hole, “Please, please,” you tearfully whine, “want more.”

Jungkook leaves a gentle little smooch on your pussy before he goes back to business. His hot tongue slips right into you pushing past your tight rim. Your lips fall open in a small ‘o’ as you shudder, he’s flicking his tongue upwards against your g-spot repeatedly. You scramble to get a hold of him with your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Mmm,” you push his head against you and sigh when his nose accidentally bumps into your clit, “...daddy—” You cry out when the pleasure gets too much and you curl into yourself from the sensitivity.

Jungkook freezes under you, he pulls away and climbs over you with your legs falling from his shoulders. “What did you say?” His eyes narrow, they’re dark with hunger and lust. You look up at him through bleary eyes and giggle instead of answering. Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, relishing in the moan that bubbles out of your throat, “Oh you like that don’t you baby?” He chuckles breathily, “Go on then, tell me what you just said now.” He squeezes gently and runs his thumb over your lips, it’s nothing too drastic but it serves as a reminder.

Your tongue darts out to run over your upper lip seductively, “Would you rather I called you sir? Or Mr Jeon?” You breathily giggle, “Does it turn you on laying me out here in the open for everyone to see?” You whisper as your lips wrap around his thumb, you suck with a low lewd moan.

Jungkook cusses under his breath, “Fuckin’ hell.. Nothing but a straight demon, look at you, jesus.” He bites his lip and pops his wet thumb out of your mouth, “They can look all they want but this pussy’s mine,” he cups your cunt with his free hand, “daddy’s gonna have you all dolled up with a little collar so people know who you belong to.” He smirks.

You mewl at the thought of him putting you in a collar as you eagerly paw at his slacks, “Please daddy,” you slur out, “ ‘m so wet for you. Aren’t you gonna be nice and give me what I want? Or do I have to find someone to do the job for you?” You grin deviously.

Jungkook’s cock is out within seconds after hearing that, he slaps the wet tip over your clit in soft taps. He listens to the wet squelching your cunt makes, it’s like music to his ears hearing how soaked you are. You let your legs slip open wider as he crowds you while slipping his cock between your folds. The tip catches on to your hole and prods at you, “Please,” you whine softly, “wan’ it in,” you buck your hips so more of his cock pops into you.

“Shit, relax for me baby.” He sighs as he slips his cock inch for inch slowly. His cock fits snug in your tight little cunt, you struggle a bit to house the rest of his cock inside of you but eventually he bottoms out with a small smack. “There you go,” he moans in bliss, “doin’ so good for me.”

You shudder at the praise and stare up at him with puppy eyes, “Don’t want it soft and nice daddy—want it fast n hard.” You hook your arms around his shoulders and bring him down for a sweet gentle peck, “You’ll give me what I want, right daddy?” You bat your lashes at him.

Jungkook groans shakily, “Fuck yes—I’ll give you everything you want baby.” He pumps his cock in and out of you, “Gonna have you dripping in diamonds.” He gasps as his hips roll forward with each time being a little more rougher than the last.

His movements cause you to lightly bounce in place under him, you can only moan and whimper as he drives his cock in and out of you. Your pussy hugs his cock tight when backstrokes making it a bit hard to fuck into you. He shoves his hand between the two of you and presses down on your clit with his thumb causing a loud cry to escape your lips.

“Harder..!” You rasp out and throw your head back. Jungkook wastes no time in diving in to bury his face between your shoulder and neck, leaving a mess of hickeys and love bites in his wake.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he gasps, “ ‘s like this slutty little pussy was made for me.” He fucks into your rougher and makes sure to press in deep each time he bottoms out.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, you dig your nails into his shoulder and curl your legs around his waist tightly. “S-So good,” you gasp. His fat cock fills you up just nicely and rubs up against every sensitive spot inside your cunt. You can feel every throb and vein on his cock as he fucks away mindlessly.

Jungkook tilts his face to messily slot his lips against your own, he slams his hips upwards rather harshly. Each punishing thrust leaves you shaking and mewling for more, you weakly hold on to him for dear life and try not loosen your grip on him. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites teasingly as a low whine escapes your lips.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you baby? Got myself a little painslut don’t I?” He purrs low while circling his hips and letting you feel every inch of his cock.

You hiss softly and hide your face in the soft cushioning of the couch, you’ve long blocked out the music in favor of focusing on two things: Jungkook and the wet noises your cunt made. You could feel dollops of slick run down your taint and between your ass cheeks. His cock was drenched in your wetness, everytime he pushed back in a loud squelch was followed shortly after.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum on this cock baby? Gonna make it nice n messy for me?” He huskily whispers, “C’mon baby, answer me.” He lightly slaps your cheek forcing you to look at him.

“Y-Yes,” you softly gasp, back arching when he strikes your g-spot repeatedly.

“Yes what?” He licks his lips.

“Yes daddy.” You whimper out. Jungkook captures your lips in a heated kiss and then proceeds to slam his cock in and out of your battered pussy.

You hug him tightly while messily kissing back as his cock slips in and out of your gaping cunt. He pulls out to the very tip before slamming back in and repeating the process over and over. Loud wet smacks are heard but you’re too cock drunk to see (or care) if anyone is looking. Before you even realize it, your cunt squeezes tightly around him and you cum with a loud cry. Your pussy absolutely gushes around him.

Jungkook groans low in his throat, he comes to a halt and simply grinds his cock into you. He feels more slick coat his cock until he’s covered in slick. He throbs at the sight of your trembling thighs and presses his cock in, letting his creamy cum fill your pussy up. You both slump into each other, he pants heavily and just lays there with his body covering your own.

“Got all night baby,” he murmurs in your ear while kissing the side of your head, “why don’t we get a little more comfortable in my bed, yeah?” He whispers.

You turn to press your lips to his, “Mmhm,” you pull away as a string of spit follows, “gonna give you a REAL show daddy.” You softly say.

Jungkook chuckles quietly, “I’m sure you are.”

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#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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littlerequiem · 2 months

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

#users on my taglist - sorry for tagging you all so late tumblr was bugging on me #levi fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot levi #levi x oc #levi x y/n #levi x you #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi #ao3 fanfic #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #flo's fanfics #flo's oneshots #n.sfw #flo is writing . . .

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comfortless · 2 months

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syl im begging on my hands and knees pls pls pls expand on that idea of könig being a warrior rumored to eat womens hearts its like giving scheherazade and i NEED IT

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. vague time period/setting. fem(afab) reader. light descriptions of violence and gore, talk of cannibalism, non-con groping & cuddling, forced marriage.

There are endless tasks to be done and everything beneath a vast blue sky to explore, forgoing those things, the men about your village often prefer to gather for a duel. There are no rules for their game, only that you bring a weapon and thrust it toward the opponent in such a way that it brings you glory, pride, some scabbing mend to a crooked scar.

Except not you, never you. They wouldn’t so much as allow for the women to watch unless sparring for the hand of a weeping bride happened to be the gleaming prize waiting at the end of the night.

Your eyes had witnessed such before, a girl with hair the color of autumn straw that rolled down to the end of her back, whisked away by some man from the sea after he dug his blade into an old farmer’s belly. Her father. A sad thing, but you imagined her life must be much better now. Instead of tending to a mule or pricking her fingers on needles for sewing, she’s off collecting sea shells and has the ocean’s breeze eternally perfumed in her hair. Maybe she cradles a baby on her hip now, plump and cooing happily whilst they watch the waves roll and glitter beneath the sun.

A better life for only the cost of a swift death. It was something that you had always envisioned wanting for yourself, away from this village that reeks of blood, the very place where your options were limited to shoveling after the horses or to die a lonely hag.

That was until the behemoth began to show his face. Not quite his face at all, actually. It changed things for you. Instead of a longing for one of these strong men to carry you off into the night, there sat a creeping terror each and every time he crossed the threshold into the village.

He was rumored to be many things: an executioner from a foreign land, either a lost and wicked saint or a demon made flesh, and worst of them all… a cannibal from out in the untamed downs that crest the mountainside.

The women of the village were frightened by him, by the bulk and height that suggested he was not a man at all, but something far more terrifying beneath that black veil. They hid away when he first arrived, claiming he carried an organ in his hands, chewing away at a still-beating heart with blood running down his fingers. The men remained rigid, but their hands shook when they took up their weapons against him.

And there was no way of knowing then that this man was to be yours.

Time and time again, the giant would win, request a warm meal and a bed for the evening, and would be gone away come morning. He wouldn’t return for months, and the gossip would continue to fester until his return. Then, only then, would lips be pursed in silence and another fool would rush to death in an attempt to win some measure of pride. His opponent would be buried in the very field they would fight in, his bones serving for another layer upon the earthen stage once the worms and rats had picked him clean, and the giant would be back. He was always back.

The town is hushed to silence when his horse is led through the well-worn street. There are lingering observers: the broad stable hand that would not even dare to raise a whip or a dagger to this behemoth, the women of the brothel even shy away from him, and the children who whisper their rumors behind open palms.

He does not stop for any of them, only carries forward with that dark cloth concealing his head.

You peek out from your window, nursing tea with honey to calm the chill drifting through the air, feathering over your skin. It’s bitter on your tongue, even with the sweet coursing through it. Bitter, when his blue eyes flick in your direction and you feel every inch of your skin begin to prickle and tense.

He’s worse up close like this. The man doesn’t conceal his torso, never seemed to find a need to— no one ever gets close enough to wound him. Not any more, at least, judging by the pasty scars that mar his chest with the biggest being a healed, pinkish blemish that stretches from below his ribs down to a narrow hip. You find the most unsettling part about him is not those marks of violence, but the fact that you can not read his face.

Time slows to a halt as he just stares, takes you in with your cup of tea and the old dress stolen away from your mother’s own wardrobe. And you return it, warily looking him over from his veiled head down to the toes of his boots. After regarding you in the very same way a bored cat would observe an unaware, little bird, he moves along his path with a quiet huff of breath as his face is turned away from you.

There’s a heavy axe strapped to his back that you only notice then. Something new and shiny, glistening in the rays of golden sunlight above. Sharp and wicked, too cruel a weapon to be used in a bout for dinner and a lumpy mattress stuffed with decaying straw.

You could only hope he brought a cloth to clean it once this ordeal was over. Perhaps he truly does use his veil to do so, gets drunk on the scent of blood and gore clinging to it and pleasures himself to the violence as they claim. The macabre tales of this giant only go darker than that. But the tales he lives up to most of all are the ones about his skill in killing.

When night begins to scrape across the sky in dark, drab purple, fate comes crawling throughout the town as though it is nothing more than a famished ghoul.

Your mother storms toward you where you’re sat, preparing for bed. Her face is a mask of pure anguish when she pulls you into a tight embrace. She bawls into your hair, digs her nails into your back as though she would sooner die than let you go.

The men of the town follow behind her, wrenching her arms away from you and pulling you up by the front of your gown. The thin linen tears with the force of rough hands, rips a thick line down your chest that almost leaves you bared to them. Though the hands are eager, the eyes of these men do not shine with hunger, only with fear.

The shouts and cries from your lips are lost to them, to even your mother who wails in defeat someplace behind you.

“You’re plenty old enough to be a bride,” says one of the men, voice like a coiled snake spitting venom. It doesn’t take one of the well-educated people of the capital here to explain just what is to happen to you now.

The giant, the cannibal, saw something that he liked, and decided that you would be his prize. When you’re led to the field, kicking and flailing against the strong arms that hold you tightly in their grip, the sight is enough to tell you just how much that he enjoyed your silent, curious staring only hours before.

He stands upright, silent and daunting above a body that’s been split by the axe still held in one strong hand. The color of crimson cakes his knuckles, crests over his arm and the expanse of his chest, all from the headless corpse lying disposed at his feet.

The scene is what you expected, you’ve heard the words of your people about this beast of a man’s propensity for violence, but no amount of mental preparation could have truly readied you for seeing so much blood. The blood of a man you knew to be good and true, a hard-working blacksmith from the foothills. What a tragic way to go out: fighting for a pouch of coin when this horrible giant must have clearly lost his mind to rut and rage.

No hand comes to cover your mouth when you shriek, and the tight grips guiding you forward only loosen when your man or murderer stalks forward to take his prize. Through your tears, you still manage to make out the lines beneath his eyes, how they fold upward, and there’s no doubt that he’s smiling beneath that mask. A big, ugly grin at the thought of prying open your ribs and helping himself to a maiden’s heart.

He lifts it over his head in a swift motion, and drops it over your own instead, opposite to the hastily cut eye holes to block out all of the hazy, pale light of the moon and flickering yellow-red torches surrounding. Amidst the panic threatening to send your heart fleeing from your chest, the cold trickle of dread that finds itself curling in your belly, you feel two arms hoist you up and settle you over the back of his wretched steed.

“Gehen wir.”

Then, the darkness turns abyssal.

You only pray your body has truly died of fright when you first wake. There’s no darkness, no scent of blood when your eyelids pry apart to flutter. Water laps over your bare thighs, cold enough to force a shiver up from your feet to the blades of your shoulders. But behind you sits fire, a warmth so comforting you would think you’re rested against a stone bathed in summer sun, if not for the softness.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, rationalize just what’s happening, until a hand clutching a scrap of cloth maneuvers up from your thigh to your tummy, lathers you in a soap that smells only of pine. It halts, cinches around your waist when you begin to tense, when he knows you’re truly awake. A pond to your front and a man of horror at your back.

There’s sunlight streaming down from above, painting the clouds in gold. There are birds happily singing from the surrounding trees, and other, unseen animals scurrying through fallen leaves. Serene, pretty, and almost comforting when the wind turns course and brings with it the scent of late-ripening fruit. If the reality of your situation were not so dire, perhaps you would have enjoyed it, being here with a man who killed instead of presented your family with a dowry or offered you some pleasant wedding to dine and drink your fill of berry wine at.

“Let me go.” Your voice is a feigned warning, the mocking growl of a mere pup. You imagine he must keep his weapons close, only offering himself the courtesy of cleaning you so your meat doesn’t taste of dirt or lavender oil when he sinks his teeth into it.

“Süss frau,” he mumbles behind you, presses his head into your hair and inhales deeply as your body only grows further rigid. There’s a pause, before he corrects himself. “Meine süss frau.”

It would help if you knew what he was saying, calm your nerves some, maybe, but each word spoken only sounds guttural and instills further fear. You twist in his grip, hissing small curses that would have left your mother in a rage, but he only laughs at your squirming. Then, he tightens his grip as the cloth is dropped into the pond’s glassy water.

“Take me back home,” you continue to urge, placing a trembling hand over the limb pressing your body further back against him. “Please.”

Your small attempt at pleading is met only with his head dropping to the nape of your neck, a kiss pressed against the flesh there. It warms for him, sends a heat spiking up to your cheeks in spite of the way you still suspect he wishes only to rip your throat open with teeth more akin to a devil’s fangs.

You turn your head, intent on spitting right in this monster’s face, but find only a man looking back at you.

There’s a shimmer in his eyes that almost seems playful, a grin so prevalent there it must cause the corners of his mouth to ache. No blood in his teeth, and though the silvery-blue of his eyes seems distant, they are not cold. The goliath who stole you away stinking of blood and innards isn’t present now, and that seems even less of a comfort. He’s even handsome in the strangest way, certainly not the look of nobility, but none of his features are cruel. There’s a boyish charm to him, perhaps he would have the look of a charismatic farmhand or an apprentice of sorts if not for the scarring.

“Won’t hurt you… too pretty,” he assures, burying his face against the side of your neck. But the bastard does, digs his teeth right in and suckles at your skin when you claw at his arm in surprise. It’s not enough to draw drops of blood, but it accentuates the point that he seems to see you as something of his, a possession of sorts.

There’s a messy patch of drool over bruising skin when he pulls away to laugh at the wounded expression upon your face. He apologizes in a huff of breath as he guides you up to stand at his side. His hands linger too long for comfort when they rest along your waist. Your sullen glare only seems to further endear him. Too much, judging by the way the pillar between his legs bounces thick and hard and proud, throbs when you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze and angrily hiss to him about how a man should treat his wife. Cannibal or not, the beast needed to learn some manners.

Fear still edges its way up your spine, but it diminishes more and more as the seconds pass.

He’s no gentleman when he splashes away the remnants of soap from your body, hands grazing over every inch of your bare skin he sees available to touch. Your breast first, weighed up in his palm with the nipple pinched between his index and middle. Emboldened by your hushed protests, he dares to slip his other between your legs, and only then do you force his hands away.

He certainly bears no resemblance to a proper husband when he hoists you over one shoulder to carry you further into the woods and into his shack, either.

It’s barren and ugly, an unsightly wooden structure decorated only with a thin mattress, a table too small, and blades of many forms. The axe sits proudly below the window, astonishingly cleaned of the gore from the night prior. The veil rests above it on the sill, damp from a cleaning that never should have been. You stare at his belongings for a time when you’re placed on your feet, silently judging the array in search of anything to justify the gossip, only to come up short of anything.

He doesn’t even touch you past the bathing in the pond. You’re dressed in a tunic that fits like a dress upon your form: far too big, long and dull to be anything you would normally be seen in. But there are no tailors this far out in the wilderness, though there’s an apologetic promise whispered to you once he sees you in his clothes. He’ll buy you a new dress upon your first visit to town as his wife, several if it pleases you.

The man leaves for a spell, brings you rabbit to clean and prepare, then busies himself stoking up a fire for cooking. His speech is a little broken when he tells you of how long he’s waited to have someone like you here with him, how he never suspected a woman so pretty would be his wife. And you don’t eat when the meat is fully cooked and placed in front of you both. You insist that you only wish to return back home, to hug your mother and tell her that you’re still alive.

That, he takes insult to.

His brow is pinched when he forces you to sit in his lap. He brings the meat to your lips and presses into your cheeks with his free hand to force your mouth open. There’s nothing romantic or cute about it, about him, but you do glumly settle in his hold when the realization does dawn on you that, though his strength is extraordinary, he is only a man and the only harm coming to you would be between your legs.

You’re drug over to the mattress after dinner by a tight hold over your wrist. The fight hasn’t left you, not by a smidge, even when the loose tunic is lifted over your head with shouts of your displeasure and you’re pressed onto your back with the giant watching you curiously from above.

He pins you there, but doesn’t force his hands down to your sex again. He only sighs when he rests his weight next to you and curls in to lie his head over your breasts.

You’re body remains stiff and rigid as a bowstring. His nearness only sends that same swell of heat back from the pond, brings with it the scent of fire smoke and sweat emanating from him. His hair is long and soft, soft as the kisses he places on the plushness of your tit, long as the drag of a callused palm from your hip up to cup the other.

He offers you no warning when his teeth circle over your nipple, holds fast to you when your back arches and your fingers weave into his hair to jerk him away. The worst part about him seemed to be having a penchant for leaving a mark, and the smug grin that crosses his face when he meets the fury in your eyes with the lust-drunk look in his own.

“Was? You don’t like?,” he grumbles, tracing over the marks of his teeth with his thumb, pressing against and smearing his saliva until you feel your back begin to arch and your breathing grow heavy.

“It hurts.”

He stares at you in amazement for a moment, whether surprised you haven’t made an attempt to flee or startled by the lack of a strike to his jaw after such a thing, it mattered not. Your terrible, ignorant “husband” only seems satisfied with your response. He draws back to sit on his knees before you, sliding his hands along each curve and dip of your body until they rest at your ankles.

“Ja… hurts. I will make it better, meine süße.”

He’s no less brazen when he makes a dive toward your womanhood, lips parted in preparation to breathe you in. Or… taste you in full, whichever option was suited for men who were more beasts than men at all. Maybe that was his only feat of cannibalism: licking at women until they were wet and pliant for him to take entirely. You pry him away with a gasp and a quick shift onto your side, demanding that he not touch you any further.

Again, he laughs, curls behind you and shifts his hips to slot the girth of his cock between your thighs, buries his face into your neck once again. You can feel the grin that stretches over his lips against your skin. When the dark envelopes you both, the quiet crackle of the fire in its pit still showing signs of life, he seems content to just cuddle you close.

Exhaustion creeps its way through your limbs, steals the fight from your voice and leaves your eyelids heavy. You consider waiting it out, listening to his breathing deepen and slow to creep away, but his grip is firm around your middle, so strangely comforting that you do allow yourself to relax. Running could wait until the morning sun rose.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #this has been in my inbox for months i am SO sorry

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peachsukii · 2 months

Text

listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.

i touched you for only a fortnight i touched you, but i touched you

fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february

you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.

occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.

"sure rained like hell yesterday."

"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"

"god, it's too fucking hot today."

"that dress looks nice on ya."

one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.

he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"

bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.

"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."

caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."

"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."

he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."

"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.

"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."

bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.

"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."

"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.

he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."

"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."

that makes your heart skip a beat.

"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."

"me too."

right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.

"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.

"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."

"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."

she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.

"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."

and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.

"oh yeah, she hates me."

bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."

the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.

you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.

blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugo drabble #bakugo imagine #bakugou headcanons #bakugou drabble #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou #☆.rei writes

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lucyandalexiafan · 5 months

Note

Could you write something where Alexia is obsessed with the reader boobs please

Movie night | Alexia Putellas x reader

I wrote this few days ago and I find now the time to post it🫠. I don't know if you wanted a more smut work, but the result was something really fluff and cute; I don't know why but it came out so sweet, even though the initial idea was something more sexual. Maybe it's because of all the tweets and TikToks that make me watch thousand times the interview she did for the top 11 and I keep hearing 'thank you' and 'Are you a Manchester City fan', which make her seem so cute; or maybe because I'm feeling so single ahah.

Anyway, I'm sorry if you wanted something more smut and less cute, and thank you for the request!

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

I bite my lip trying to hold back a moan.

Ale's hands on my breasts, her fingers caressing and playing with my nipples.

It had all started very innocently.

Since this morning Ale had been very clingy, very physical.

As soon as the alarm went off she pulled me tighter into her embrace, her hands squeezing my chest, muttering jokingly about how 'I don't love her enough' as I wanted to get up, then kissing my neck just below my hairline every time I stayed a few minutes longer in bed with her.

After almost being arrived late at the training, she tried to be paired with me during both the gym and athletic training, finding every time an excuse to touch me.

Her hands had always been on my thigh, arm or hand at lunch.

It was as if she had an extreme need for physical contact, to touch me, but not necessarily sexually.

On the way home we stopped at the restaurant near our house, my favorite Chinese restaurant, and Ale took there our takeaway dinner that she had ordered while she was waiting for me at the end of the second training session. She composed it with my favorite dishes.

We went into our apartment and had dinner on the sofa laughing in front of a stupid American talk show (even though she seemed to understand one word in ten and only laughed when I laughed).

Once we ended our dinner, Ale asked me to watch a film, one of my favorite dark academia films, and I agreed; so, she helped me to clean the table in front of the sofa and the dishes and we lay down on the sofa.

After a few minutes from the start, she lay between my legs, her head on my chest and her hands at her sides. The position itself wasn't uncomfortable, my back was resting against the couch and my head was on a pillow turned towards the television, my hands caressing her back.

I felt her body relax second by second, the tension from the training slowly flowing out of her body. Every now and then she let out a few moans or gasps, but nothing overly sexual.

About a quarter of the way through the movie, she had moved a little lower, her navel touching my inner thigh, her right temple against my sternum; her hands had started to caress my torso under my shirt, to lightly scratch my hips.

The contact had given me shivers, her cold fingers tracing light circles with her nails.

“I thought you wanted to see the movie amor,” I say, chuckling.

She moans into my chest, her hands gripping the edges of my shirt.

I lift her torso, allowing her to push it over my breasts, braless.

Ale she starts kissing my skin, leaving endless little kisses on my boobs, she draws wet paths that connect one nipple to the other.

Her fingers squeeze my breast in a light grip, playing with my nipples.

"What happened Ale? - she looks at me confused - You are so physical"

"Since when I can be more physical with you? - she asks smiling - I love your boobs so much amor" she says assorted while she squeezes them with her hands.

I gasp, seeking contact with her, and grip her hair between my fingers.

My neck arches back when she bites my right nipple.

She grins against my sternum.

She runs her nipples between her fingers.

"Your boobs are so sensitive - she gasps and then kisses a nipple - That's one of the reasons why I love them… I just need to touch your nipples and you're soaked for me" she whispers absorbedly while she kisses them.

"Only for you, amor - I moan - only for you"

Ale smiles satisfied.

She bends down and kisses a patch of skin just below her nipple. She sucks it, leaving a clear purple mark on me, releasing it with a dull sound.

"When you're really horny you can have an orgasm just by me playing with your nipples - she bites my right one, passing it between her teeth and making me moan- It's never happened to me before, but it's so… so-"

I gasp when her fingers squeeze a nipple tighter, too tight.

My hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, not knowing if I want to stop her or ask her to do it again. Ale bends down to kiss the fingers surrounding her wrist, leaving small sweet kisses on my skin while she whispers to me that she's sorry.

I arch my back towards her asking her to touch me, to keep touching me.

“They're so soft – she whispers as she leaves a hickey on my other tit – and just the right size for my hands.”

I bite her lip looking at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Are you saying they are big? - She looks at me confused - Alexia, I've never had a girlfriend with bigger hands and longer fingers than yours"

She opens her mouth wide in offense, her eyebrows raised dangerously, while the sides of her mouth turn up in a smile.

Then, suddenly, she lowers herself towards my breast, biting it.

I groan in surprise.

It's not a painful bite, but it will leave a mark.

She smiles satisfied as she watches it.

"Looking at how you ask me to fuck you with my long fingers I wouldn't say it bothers you" she replies in a mock offended tone.

The tongue touching the edges of the bite.

I turn my head towards the couch, trying to avoid her gaze, my embarrassment clear from the color of my cheeks.

"Ale…" I gasp, not knowing exactly what he wants.

"Keep watching the movie, amor" she tells me, her voice betraying a trace of excitement, before resting her head on my sternum.

Her hand continues to play with my breast, the one towards the television, playing with the nipple, running it between his fingers, pulling it towards her.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #cute alexia putellas

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wineauntie · 2 months

Note

"Always You" is masterful, it unlocked something in my brain and my heart. May I please request some fluff with Jack? I will leave the specifics up to you, but can it please be a dynamic where she is more like the moon (quiet, out of the spotlight)?

THESE QUIET MOMENTS — Jack Hughes x reader

summary: Jack Hughes thinks you’re like the moon, yet when you find yourself lost in the dark, you find him to be your shining light.

note: I adore this request so much, that it is 3am and I wrote this in under thirty minutes 🙏

warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, angsty thoughts soothed with fluff, Jack Hughes in love, nicknames like pretty girl, reader is an introvert.

word count: 1.6K

please excuse any grammatical errors, it is once again 3am and I’m too tired to edit!

When people thought of Jack Hughes, hockey was obviously the first thing to come to mind. That along with the thought that he was the life of any party, that he was outgoing, vibrant and a lover of all things fun. He was under the spotlight and loved it there too.

What people often failed to mention about Jack Hughes was that he was also a lover of quiet moments, moments where the world faded into silence leaving him and you in your own little bubble of serenity.

You and Jack had been dating for almost a year and a half. When you'd begun to date, those around you questioned the dynamic because whilst Jack was outrageously out there in the way he acted, and you were the exact opposite.

You were introverted to say the least, preferring a night in instead of clubbing and enjoying your solace over any form of chaos. You were more shy compared to others, finding it hard to put yourself out there, but Jack had stumbled into your life, destined to help you creep out of your shell.

He taught you to enjoy moments of chaos and find the peace in it all (despite how contradictory that sounded) and in turn you taught him that the quiet moments were not boring but instead a necessity for sanity.

Jack adored you. He worshipped you in a way someone might worship a higher being. He was attentive and caring, always going above and beyond for you no matter the time needed or cost.

To him, you were an essential part of life.

The moon, perhaps?

Quite like the moon, your warm glow soothed every tendril of hatred inside of his body. Your effervescent and mesmerising way of orbiting his world was done in a way so natural, that he couldn’t comprehend how fitting it all was.

Soft, welcoming and hopeful.

Yes, you were the moon.

Your smile's shine acting like a light in the dark depths of the night, never fading from the moment the sun set to the moment the sun entered the picture once more.

Jack could live with the assurance that even on the brightest of days and fullest of moments, you would be there soon, blessing him with even more light to chase the dark away.

And when the night fell and engulfed the world and Jack into an endless darkness, he knew you would appear like the moon and act like a guiding light.

"Y/n? I'm home!"

Your head jerked up from your book that lay half-read on your lap as the sound of the door to the apartment resounded. You heard shuffling from the hallway as the two boys filtered into the living room, watching them appear, you stood to your feet, moving your blanket and book aside.

"Hey," you smiled, as Jack's eyes met yours, his softening instantaneously as he shifted one of his hands and wrapped it around you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Well done on the game." Your eyes flitted to Luke, who ran a hand through his curls.

"Thanks, pretty girl," Jack grinned, his grip still tight around you, as he looked down at your face-which was slowly

"Thanks, y/n," Luke chimed, before disappearing into his bedroom. You weren't offended by his lack of conversation, knowing damn well when Luke got home from a game he was wrecked and needed a nap.

"So..." Jack drawled, drawing your attention back to him. "What did you do for the evening?"

You curled your arms around his neck, as you tilted your head in thought. "Well, I watched the game, and I read," you spoke slowly, "I really didn't do much, honestly."

"You read?" Jack hummed teasingly, "What a surprise!" As you rolled your eyes, Jack lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively whilst you laughed.

Jack held you close before he plopped down on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he did so. You, now straddling him, allowed your fingers to lightly brush over his cheekbones. Jack watched you with so much care, your heart melted.

"I missed you," Jack sighed, his eyes on yours as your fingers slowly traipsed up into his hair. "Don't like leaving you here by yourself."

You ducked your head, feeling rather embarrassed. You knew that despite not voicing it, a part Jack wanted you to attend his games. You attended as many of them as possible, but the crowds mixed with everyone suddenly knowing who you were, sent your heart palpitating towards the edge of panic.

Jack understood this and never pushed for you to go. He cared more about your safety and mental health, feeling far better that you were tucked up safely at home, wearing his clothes as you watched the game on the television.

But there were times where your hidden guilt hit you like a backwards moving truck, the thoughts of disappointing him ramming through you to the point where you're entire brain couldn't focus on anything else.

"Uh uh," Jack tutted, his hand moving from around your waist, to gently hold your cheek, lifting your head from its lowered position. "What's wrong, pretty girl, where are your thoughts at?"

You bit your lip and nuzzled into his touch, your eyes closing as you relished the warmth of his touch. Jack allowed you to sink him, giving you all the time in the world to answer.

You took a small breath in before you began to speak, becoming killed by Jack's thumb stroking your jaw line.

"Does a little part of you hate me for not being more "out there"?" You asked, your voice an octave above a whisper. You felt embarrassed to ask but the wiggling thought couldn't be settled until you'd gotten an answer.

Jack tensed beneath you, his thumb halting its soothing trail as you kept your eyes closed tight.

"Never mind," you quickly continued, unlatching your arms from him and pushing yourself off of his lap. "It was a silly question, don't–"

Jack grabbed your wrist and dragged you back down onto his lap, your legs now strewn over him as he held you. His eyes had crackled with the faintest embers of frustration as you curled up into him but his sadness washed over the fire, dowsing it entirely.

"It was a silly question," Jack agreed, his arms pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. "How could you ever think I hate you?" His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, the hurt seeping through his words.

"I don't know..I just," you huffed, pressing your face into his collarbone, trying to hide from his eyes. "You are the epitome of outgoing, Jack, I feel like I'm holding you back from, I don't know, going out and living."

Jack felt his heart shatter at your small voice, his face scrunched up in upset.

"Being here, with you, is living," Jack spoke clearly, "the moments I spend with you are my favourites and push me to live. Whether it be the moments where we laugh or cry or even the silent and quiet moments, I love them all." He paused, as you raised your face.

"I sometimes think I was made to love you, that before I was just floating around aimlessly. And you? You pulled me back and everything just feels right." Jack continued. Each word he spoke was deliberate as he kept his gaze locked on yours. "I don't care that you aren't "out there", because in all honesty, I'd rather you be happy and safe, than miserable and out of your comfort zone."

"But...what about games?" Your voice trembled, "I don't go to them a lot and I know a bunch of your teammates have people there to watch."

"Pretty girl, you are always with me at games," Jack reminded you, pulling out his thin and silver chain, with a small, rectangular locket attached. The sight caused a small smile to spread across your face. You knew that if you were to open the concealed locket, you'd find his favourite picture of you inside of it.

It was the cheesiest thing you'd ever seen, but Jack wore it proudly, as a king would wear his crown.

"You are with me at every moment and yeah, maybe not physically, but I know that as soon as I walk in the door, you'll be waiting for me, wearing my clothes and sleeping in my bed." Jack's voice was lower now, "and to be honest, I prefer our quiet moments. I prefer staying in with you as you read a book and I watch a match."

"You mean it?" Your eyes shone with so much affection that Jack couldn't resist the urge to kiss you as he bent and pressed a long kiss to your pouted lips.

"Every single word of it," Jack confirmed against your lips as you parted. "I love you...I love everything about you. Don't allow your thoughts to twist and let you think otherwise."

You nodded as Jack pressed kisses all up your face before he grabbed your book from where you'd placed it down and the remote from beside the couch.

"Now, we're going to watch a match and read, because I'm not allowing our quiet moment to go uncompleted,"

You plucked the book from his hands with a nod and rush of warmth flowing through your heart, as he began to flick through channels to find a game.

The two of you settled into the couch for the evening, completely intertwined as the night wore on. Jack would glance down at you every few moments, admiring your scrunched brows and concentration.

Yup, you were his moon. It was one hundred percent decided.

Like an astronomer, he was captivated by you, but whilst he was willing to share the actual, real-life moon with billions of people, he'd be damned if he'd ever let anyone else tamper with his girl.

You were his, just as much as he was yours.

And you really wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n: I am a slut for comparing people to things icl so this ask was literally begging to be written.

#wineauntie #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #Jack Hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl x reader

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nanabrainrot · 11 months

Text

Nyquil [18+]

You have trouble sleeping without your boyfriend’s help.

Warning! NSFW content in an established relationship. Reader likes to get eaten out as she goes to sleep - consensual somnophilia adjacent behavior occurs. Hobie Brown/F!Reader.

••●────── 🕸️⋅🕷⋅🕸️ ────────●••

“Can’t sleep huh, doll?”

He’s such a sweet boyfriend, sweet enough you thank your lucky stars every night that you found a boy like him to accompany you through life. Insomnia had been a long prevailing problem in your night routine, evident in your behavior at HQ where you were noted for being the Spiderwoman who often looked groggy and shuffled about. Your “nonchalant” nature initially enticed him - you really stuck it to the man by making it clear you didn’t care.

It took two months for him to realize you weren’t nonchalant. You were tired.

He’d made it a point to be the best help he could about it: it’s why he was over almost every night he could be now. Hobie does a great job to soothe you. The rough pads of his fingers tracing circles on your bare back. His lips pressing soft kisses to your head, your face buried in the pillow breathing the linen smell in with even breaths. “Hnng…” you mumbled in the pillow, feeling your consciousness slowly tettering but never falling to rest. It was exhausting, the endless sleepless nights before Hobie.

Only he could put you to sleep.

“Almost there? Does my doll need me to put her to bed?” he breathes, hot breath fanning your hairline. Aahh, that offer fans the heat in your core and the excitement of being close to him and being lulled to sleep keep your eyes twitching behind your closed lids - you might as well simulate REM sleep if you couldn’t get there.

“Yeah…” you huff, words soft as air and fanning over the fabric of your pillow’s cotton casing. His hot hand dipping lower under the thin jersey sheet to the small of your back.

His voice hot and raspy, a whisper on the shell of your ear, “Yeah?”

Nodding into the pillow, hands taut under it and your head, his body next to you and curving onto your body like a crescent moon with the way he was propped on one arm and the other starting to palm the fat of your ass.

“Wanna stay like that or you wanna turn a little so I can lap you up ‘fore I put you to bed, dolly?” You mumble something before rolling onto your back, tits coming to meet the air from the movement of the jersey blanket and spreading your legs in a lazy movement that gets him chuckling. He’s too giving, too concerned with getting you to sleep all cozy.

“Thank you,” he laughs lowly, pressing a kiss on your temple before wandering lower under the sheet, “I’ll put you to sleep, don’t you worry…”

He always presses soft pecks to your thighs first, hands around your thighs with his thumb grazing the skin.

He kisses the mound next, pecking the lips with sickeningly sweet gentleness; like pecking your cheek. He does it so gently, careful to not make you cum because it keeps you up longer, and instead sufficing with making out with the area. Suckling at the nub, lazily licking at it with slow big licks with a flat tongue.

You buck a little, sighing, your breaths slow as he hears your heartbeat settle. Both heartbeats. Your hips buck once more, before settling on the sheets - a small snore fills the air. The rumble of cars coming and going in the late night, some honks and some reving engines. Your fan in the corner purring as it washed your naked bodies in cool air. Window only slightly ajar. The dark room illuminated only by the lights of the billboards and advertisements in your universe’s big city.

Hobie comes up, ignoring the ache in his cock to settle on staring. No bodily function or lust could surpass the warmth in his mind. Even if the nonchalance was mistaken at first, the way your face glows a little brighter at HQ when your well-rested is more rewarding. Especially knowing how well you sleep because of him.

Your eyes twitch behind your lids and he can’t help but grin, hoping you’re dreaming of him. The cars rumble twenty stories below.

Hobie knows you’ll never need melatonin, chamomile tea, or nyquil ever again - not so long as he can soothe you.

🕸️𓆩♡𓆪🕸️

thanks for reading! smthng short n sweet - its only smutty for a second but idk I j thought it was a lil silly dynamic/habit for them to have :) feel free to request or chat abt hobie and miguel in my inbox <33

#hobie x y/n #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x y/n #nana writes spiderverse #nana writes

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glennrheesworld · 5 months

Note

hello ml!! i was wondering if you could do a carl grimes x reader (she’s maggie and glenn’s adopted daughter) where they reunite at terminus after being separated at the prison (reader got out with maggie) tysm 💗

𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮~

genre: fluff pairing: Carl Grimes x f!reader summary: Carl and reader reunite after separating at the prison warning: none

a/n: hi anon! i hope this is to your liking 😊 also tysm for 100 followers!

You were no longer living at the prison with the rest of the group. After what the Governor had done to your home, you were alone and lost. It felt as if living in a nightmare, losing everyone you knew and loved. This wasn’t the first time you’ve lost those you cared for.

Thankfully, Maggie was there for you, like she had always been since the start, after losing your parents.

Out in the endless roads you both walked, day and night, with Sasha and Bob. You were missing Glenn and the others a lot, only hoping they were all okay and alive.

But you missed one person the most of them all.

Carl Grimes.

Both Carl and you had grown pretty close while at the prison. Always hanging out, telling each other secrets, stealing glances, and holding hands…

Maybe you two got a bit too close.

It wasn’t long before you found Glenn with Tara in that tunnel. Seeing Glenn after countless days of wandering around made you burst into tears. You had thought you would never see him alive again.

You were grateful to have them both by your side, to have them alive and safe.

However, you couldn’t help but think about Carl. Was he okay? You really hoped so.

— — —

You groan, sitting on the floor of the train car you and the rest of the group were locked in. Having arrived at Terminus, you thought it was a safe place to call home. Seeing the crops they had been growing and the kind people of Terminus made you feel ecstatic.

That was until they took all your belongings, threaten you, and then locked you all up in here. It was just perfect, wasn’t it?

It was eerily quiet outside before the sudden sound of shots firing all over the place erupts it. Clearly wanting to know what was going on, you get up and look at Maggie, sharing a look in the dark container.

“What is it?” You whisper to her, watching her try to peek out of the little opening of the car’s door.

“Can’t see.”

She says back, shaking her head while squinting through the crack.

But as quickly as the sounds came, it left. The silence consumed the outside for some time before the big door of the train car slides open. Instinctively you all take a step back, frighten but still ready to fight if needed.

That’s before a figure walks in, followed by another, and another. And then another. You can hear your heart racing inside your chest and your palms become sweaty.

“Rick?” Glenn’s voice breaks the silence as he steps forward. You stand behind Glenn, eyes darting from a dark figure to another dark figure. “You’re here.”

Glenn’s voice is filled with relief and surprise, and when you see Rick’s face through the dimly light coming from outside, you smile. Carl has to be here.

And you were right because not a few seconds later your eyes would catch his face.

When Carl’s eyes meet yours in the darkness of the car, you couldn’t hold back anymore before lunging at him and throwing your arms around his torso. He’s taken aback, letting out a small yelp as he stumbles back.

The warmth from you body and the familiar feeling of your presence quickly makes Carl realize it's you, immediately hugging you back.

You bury you face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of the boy you love. You forget about everyone and your surroundings, letting the way he held onto you engrave into your mind.

“Oh my god, Carl.”

You say into his skin, tightening your hug more as you sniff, trying your best to hold back tears. “It’s really you.”

He laughs, pressing his check on top of your head with his arms around you. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I lost you.” He sniffs too. You smile with eyes glossy, lifting your head to see him, even if it was too dark.

A sense of relief washes over you two. You both still managed to find each other after having lost everything.

With quivering lips, you whisper to him, “I missed you so much.” Your words hit him; his eyes glossy up too. You couldn’t see it, but you were sure he was tearing up by the way he squeezes your waist.

“I missed you too.” He says back to you, pulling you back into a hug before pressing a kiss on top of your hair. The feeling of his love and care makes your whole body warm up with content.

You felt safe in his arms after so long. You thought you had lost your home forever, but Carl was home.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd x reader #twd imagine #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #rick grimes #glenn rhee #daryl dixon #thank you for requesting!

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solbaby7 · 5 months

Text

Make You Feel My Love

pairing: azriel x reader

[ part 2 to Make You Feel Something ]

warnings: sexual tension, possible sexual descriptions, not intended for readers under 18, swearing, best friends who fuck, possible typos

summary: Late nights and dim lights with a Shadowsinger who bares it all when it comes to you.

[part 1 ]

—

Practice makes perfect.

At least that’s what you told yourself every time the sun would set and Azriel came strolling through the doors of your bedchamber. He’s grown rather confident as a muse, such perfect features translating on dozens of pages in your sketchbook and countless canvases with him draped over the throne or laid out in a field of flowers. Two of them were a set, a close enough depiction of the shadowsinger in a spring, water up to his chest and inky hair dripping over his forehead—he looked peaceful, like the world hadn’t yet taken a piece of his soul. Most were divided between the two of you; stolen slices of sunshine and bargained bits of darkness hung proudly on his walls, even the nude one had its own home in his closet. “Where do you want me?”

“On the bed.”

He raises a brow, a smirk growing in the corner of full lips but he obeys. “Skipping right to the fun parts, are we?”

“Not this time,” You state firmly, arms crossing at your chest and putting your foot down. “I have three sketchbooks filled with half-finished pieces because you and that silver tongue of yours.”

“You’ve never complained about it before.” Azriel plops onto your bed face down, arms curling under the same pillow he was burying his face in. “Why don’t we do this in your room more often? I’m sure sitting for hours will be much more bearable with the smell of you surrounding me.”

“We stopped doing that because you kept falling asleep.” You’re not even facing him, bare feet smacking against the hardwood floors as you dragged over a chair and the small side table beside it. The soft blue book you pull out is far more intricate than any of the others he’d seen you use before, a special set of charcoals were pullout and sharpened. Stained fingers smear at the page, giving a rough base to sketch upon and Azriel finds he falls in love with the messy ponytail you pull your hair into each time before you’d started.

Azriel made a little noise, humming into the comfort of your sheets after shrugging off his shorts; no underwear this time. Just endless miles of hard muscles and giant wings that settled into the soft fabric of your duvet. “Even better, I’m quite handsome when I sleep.”

“You snore.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it? Shall I ask Rhys to join us? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind poking around in my head to help confirm.”

It was a harmless taunt; one he probably still wouldn’t have laughed at even when you were just friends. But now—this. The late nights and early mornings laughing about nothing, fingers smeared in whatever medium you’d chosen to use that time. Sometimes it would lead to more; feverish mouths molding against one another, your fingers tracing at bare skin while Az’s greedy hands tug off your clothes. Soft promises branded at your flesh each time your bodies connected, shadows in a frenzy, touching the places his hands couldn’t get to but he swallows every moan, every blissed out whimper until he was full off you and the air you breathed.

Other times were softer, two friends bonding over something they didn’t have to share with others. A reprieve from expectations; a place where Azriel bared his body and allowed another to find a beauty in him he had yet to see. “You wouldn’t dare—you’d get too jealous having someone else looking at me the way you do.”

“Maybe, I’ll just think of a different memory; of me before a mirror with my hands between my thighs.”

It’s too easy to push the right buttons; amber irises peering at you over the plush pillow beneath him, wide shoulders tense and body half covered by the sheets. “That’s not funny.”

You’re already sketching the outlines of the bed frame, the mattress and the crinkled pillows. Rough outlines of a figure beginning to form before your very eyes as you continued, fresh linen sheets, a thick duvet that smelled of you bunched low at Azriel’s waist. “I wasn’t laughing.” He shifts in bed, hair messy and gaze darkening when taking you in; giving you time to change your words. “You moved.”

“Take it back.”

“Why?” You poke harder, amused grin plastered on your face. “You jealous?”

To your surprise, Azriel nods; just once but it’s enough to have your stomach doing flips. “I don’t like the thought of someone else seeing you like that—someone that’s not me.”

The movement doesn’t alter the direction of the sketch too much and the way he rests on his side, upper body propped up by one strong arm while the other rested over his stomach and he’s not as awkward with his hands anymore—allowing them to just be. You don’t dare look in his eyes, fearful of the secrets he’d lure out of you and you linger around areas that have already been completed. The strong lines of his waist, the dark trail of hair, the muscles of his abdomen that seems to flex slightly when your stare lasts a beat too long. “That your way of telling me not to be seeing other people?”

“Have you been seeing other people?”

You try to ignore the fire that burns in your belly at the jealously he openly displays and your hand pulls away from the paper, a brow raised in question. “Have you?”

It’s difficult to maintain eye contact under the intensity of such a rich gold and you’re fairly certain he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest. This was the closest either of you had gotten to verifying what it was you were doing and suddenly the warmth from the fire is entirely too much. A finger hooks under the neckline of your shirt, tugging gently in a motion that Azriel doesn’t miss, tongue darting out to wet his lip. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

True.

It wasn’t like he had the time to juggle another woman between all of his responsibilities and spending every spare second sneaking off into whatever room was empty for a few minutes of skin on skin, mouth to mouth and tongue sliding over tongue. “Maybe, I want to hear you say it.” It comes out a little shy, head tilting to the side to rest against your hand and shadows twist up your ankle, around your calf and over your knees. They stop at your thighs, the cool sensation almost resembling the pressure of hands when they tease at the hem of your sleep shorts. “Az—“

“You have to hear the words?” The shadowsingers voice goes devastatingly low, unbearably taunting; luring you in and daring you to bite. Play with me. His shadows seem to croon, tracing letters in your skin too gentle for you to decipher but the heated stare greedily feasting on your reactions is a big enough clue. “Can you not feel it in how I touch you? How I handle you?” The cool pressure creeps past the silk of your shorts, fleeting touches grazing spots that needed more before they dart off to the next. “Is it not clear when I look at you?”

“Azriel—“ It comes out breathless, bones melting to nothing in the cushions of the couch. “The drawing.”

“Who’s stopping you, sweet thing?” The shadows do the work for him, raising the charcoal back in your grasp while the other extends out your sketchbook. “I’ll keep still while you finish.”

A double meaning in the best case.

No doubt, this was his payback for making him spill his load in your hand like some teenager still learning their bodies.

His shadows are relentless, memorizing every curve and branding their touch in their wake. Focusing is near impossible, hands shaky and breathing choppy when forcing yourself to relax; to continue drawing the tortuously beautiful body before you. Az smirks when you pause, throat bobbing with a swallow when you feel the cool caress graze your chest, teasing over peaked nipples. You can feel him following your every move, every drag of pencil to paper; a few of the lines are less than neat but you can’t find it in you to care when Azriel’s attention on you is so addictive. “Can you feel it now?”

“I’ve always felt it, Az.” There’s such vulnerability laced in your tone, eyes trained on your paper; copying the furrow of his brow, the straight line of his nose, the plush of his mouth. “Just need to hear you say it.”

There’s a brief pause; enough time to sign the page and neatly put your utensils away but instead of tearing the page free like usual, you shut the baby blue book and tie it tight. “I want you,” He confesses when you stand, your back is to him and the words come out so quiet you barely hear it. Your body stills and your soft inhale of breath is encouragement enough for him to keep going. “—as more than just friends.”

A slow glance over your shoulder, book still in your grasp and now you’re definitely sure he can hear your heartbeat—everyone in the whole damn city probably could. “Yeah?”

He nods, a smile creeping in the corner of full lips at the way you’re looking at him and Azriel shifts to make room when you move closer, hands and knees sinking into the mattress when you sit yourself on top of him. “I want to kiss you in front of people,” Warm palms dips under your shirt, strong hands gripping at your sides with the most perfect pressure when explores the shape of you. Az lets a pleased sound rumble in his chest at the way you fall into him, allowing him access to a body he’d laid claim to long before he’d ever even touched you. “And have a cheesy picture of your face hanging up behind me in my office.” A blush fans, soft laughter filling the room but inside your screaming; on top of the world with no plan on how to get down. “Just want you. Only you.”

His hands keep trailing higher, pausing at the curve of your breasts and his pupils go wide when you grind down on him, pulling the shirt clean off and throwing it somewhere behind you. “Then have me, I’m yours. Only yours.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acofas

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banggyu0308 · 10 months

Text

01:21AM // Choi Yeonjun

choi yeonjun x fem!reader

summary: sneaking out to the hotel pool after it's closed is probably the highlight of you staying with your boyfriend while his band is on tour

genre: smut

warnings: pool sex, nipple play, dacryphilia, slight scratching kink, creampie, yeonjun talks about himself in third person a couple times, dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, exhibitionism, yeonjun calls reader 'baby', i wouldn't want to swim in this pool afterwards

word count: 2k

a/n: read the rest of my 'like our summer' fics here!!

taglist: @sunnibearr @dido-of-the-endless @tyunkus @boba-beom

"C'mon, no one's gonna see us, and even if they do, it's not like we're gonna get in trouble!" Yeonjun grins at you in the semi-darkness. His hand is wrapped loosely around your wrist, tugging you closer to him. Before you can protest, he continues. "The hotel can't kick us out, we're probably the most famous people that have ever stayed here. And it's so late that no one is gonna even be awake right now!"

You're still not sure. Someone COULD be awake, someone COULD see you, and if they can't prove you're Yeonjun's friend, they're only gonna guess that you're dating.

But... The wide smile on his face makes you roll your eyes and give in, slipping your hand so instead of his hand around your wrist, his fingers are linked with yours. Yeonjun pumps his fist in the air once and hisses a small excited "yes!" before dragging you outside.

The air is hot and it's more than a little humid, as expected. You pull your t-shirt over your head to expose your bathing suit, then tug off your shorts as well. You slip into the pool as quietly as you can, stifling a shocked yelp when Yeonjun cannonballs into the water next to you.

You grab his arm when he surfaces with a stupid grin plastered on his face. He pulls away easily from you, water making his arms slick, and you grab his shoulders instead. "I thought we were supposed to be quiet!!"

He submerges himself completely under the water and swims away, the water lapping at the edges of the pool from his movements. "But quiet is no fun."

You glare at him and he purses his lips, rolling his eyes at you this time. "Fine. No more cannonballs. But-" Yeonjun swims closer to you, then wraps his arms around your waist, trapping you against his chest. "You have to promise to lighten up. It's supposed to be fun!"

You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, exhaling softly. He's warm and you can hear his heartbeat, the sound making a small smile tilt the corners of your lips. "Can we just stay like this though? This is comfy..."

You're whining a little, which is NOT usually your look, but Yeonjun rests his cheek on the top of your head so... You guess it works. "Just for a little bit, since it's late and we should be sleeping, but then you have to swim!! What's the point of doing this in the first place if you're not going to swim?"

"Let me remind you, this was your idea," you mumble, only half listening to him.

"Yes, and it's a great one."

You scoff lightly and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Sure."

The both of you are quiet for a moment, the only sound the pool pump draining more water into the pool, and the grates on the edge of the pool taking the old water out.

Yeonjun lowers his lips to your ear and for a second, your breath catches like it did whenever he got this close when you just had a crush on him. He can 100% feel the way your heart races at the proximity, and the idea makes your cheeks grow hot, but you wait for his words.

"You look really pretty in this lighting..."

Your face gets even warmer before you realize something that makes you sputter out a laugh, water getting in your mouth and making you choke momentarily. Yeonjun looks so confused and you wave him away while you recover. "In the dark, Jjunie?? You think I look pretty when you can't see me???"

His eyes widen and his cheeks go pink in the almost pitch-black night. "N-no, I meant, I can see you just fine, the sky, and the- I..."

The flustered look on his face is worth everything, and you leave a reassuring kiss on his shoulder. "It's alright, I'm just messing with you..."

You're quiet again, eyes focused on him for a moment before you kiss him gently, hands on either side of his face.

You can feel Yeonjun's heartbeat speed up when he kisses you back, lips chasing yours when you break the kiss. His hands find your thighs and you let out a slight yelp when he tugs you farther onto his lap. You recover quickly, a slow smirk finding its way across your features when your hips roll down against his.

Yeonjun's eyes go wide again and his jaw goes slack. "Yn..."

His tone is more breathless than warning. You can't help your amused expression, instead trying to cover it by leaving a small line of hickeys up the side of his neck.

Your name falling from Yeonjun's lips again makes you look up, and you're met with Yeonjun looking down at you with more than a little lust in his eyes. That surprises you, but when he shakes his head to stop you from continuing, you smile. That's a little more in character for this situation.

"But Jjunie..." You pull your lips in a pout, thumb brushing over the corner of his lips. "Weren't you the one who said no one would see us~?"

"W-well, yes, but swimming in the pool is one thing, this is another..."

You silence him with another kiss, prepared to take the lead this time, but Yeonjun's grip tightens on your hips. Wordlessly, he slips one hand between your legs, lips practically battering yours. He tugs your bathing suit to the side, fingers finding your slick clit under the water and making one smooth circle.

You're incapable of anything other than stuttering when his pace picks up, a small whimper slipping from your trapped lips.

Yeonjun tsks, free hand moving to tilt your chin up. "Thought you said we had to be quiet... Can't have them finding us, now can we? It'd be so humiliating for you for them to see how fucked out my pretty baby gets on my cock..~"

The tone of his voice catches you off guard first, and by the time you comprehend his words, your mind is unable to think anything clearly. You can only tug at the waistband of his swim trunks, a small noise of amusement coming from his throat.

"Even more humiliating when she's whining at just my fingers..." He raises his eyebrows, moving you off of his lap and hooking his thumbs under his swim trunks. He makes a show of tugging them lower on his hips and tugging loosely at his cock once. Yeonjun pulls you into his lap once more with a grin, red tip of his dick pressing against your leaking entrance.

He doesn't make a further move, instead busying himself with running his pointer finger over your clothed nipple once, twice, and again. Your back arches into his touch, inadvertently taking him further into you, and Yeonjun lets a shadow of a disappointed emotion flicker across his face before one of pity takes its spot. "Baby's so greedy... when did you get so selfish? Let Jjunie take his time, hm?"

You bite your lip briefly before nodding, letting him lick and pinch at your nipples while your head rocks back at the pleasure.

Minutes go by and he makes no sign of wanting to stop anytime soon, enjoying your whines and moans and how tears of frustration well up in your eyes at the teasing. Your hands claw at his hair, whimpering out a small, "Jjun, please, need more..."

He smirks lightly, letting his hips fit just a half-inch closer to yours. "Better~?"

You cling to him, face in his neck, breathing ragged. "N-no, please, please, 've let you have fun, need..."

Yeonjun lets out a huff of impatience before suddenly pinning your hips to his pelvis, his pace slowed by the water, but still brutal enough that your nails dig into his back from the sudden stimulation. A choked sob wrenches itself from its place in your throat when he does, the tears that had previously built up in your lash line finally spilling down your cheeks.

Your rapacious walls are eager for everything you can get, tightening around him the second he's fully inside you, and Yeonjun hisses through his teeth. Obviously, he expected you to be tight once he finally had his way with you, but not like this, nothing like this. Gummy walls clamping down around him so tight he can't breathe, nails scratching red down his back, he's sure they'll be visible to the members tomorrow, but right now, he couldn't care less.

"So fuckin' good for me, taking me so well, fuck baby..." His face is in the crook of your neck, shaky exhales heating your skin.

The water sloshing around you splashes you in the face briefly and you spit it out, a whimper leaving your swollen lips when his speed never ceases. "Jjunie, Jjunie, gon' cum, please please please..."

Usually, Yeonjun'd mess with you a bit more, but he can't resist seeing you like this. Hair dripping with chlorinated water, face blotchy and streaked with tears... he can't help giving in. "Go ahead, baby, your Jjunie's right there with you, alright?"

You nod quickly, swallowing another watery moan when your walls convulse around him, your whole body shaking in absolution. Yeonjun lets himself get lost in the feeling of you around him for just a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth, hips stuttering and bucking into yours before he paints your insides.

You hold onto each other for a few moments before collapsing into giggles, Yeonjun holding onto your hand to help you out of the pool.

Your combined elated mumbles as you walk back into the hotel, dripping with more than just the water, include, "so much for being quiet..." "says YOU, you were the loud one, you get such a mess so fast 🙄" "..." "..." "I hope they clean the pool before tomorrow morning... soobin said he wants to swim..."

#adas hard hours #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun hard thoughts #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together hard thoughts #tomorrow x together hard hours

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fariesoiree · 6 months

Text

to hobie’s surprise, you’re still working into the late hours of the night. no way he’s gonna let that happen multiple nights in a row.

caution! mdni 3k wrdz, pet names, oral f. receiving fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, black fem reader, overstimulation, use of cunny cunt n pussy, back scratching, squirting, creampies pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

when hobie swung into your open window, he wasn’t expecting to see you awake and actually doing stuff.

his head tilts at the sight of you typing away at your laptop, swivel chair turning in endless semicircles. you’re dressed for bed, wearing a silk nightgown and your slippers astray beneath you. even your hair is tucked away from the night under the safety of your bonnet. “why are you up, ducky?” he climbs his way through the window purposely left open for him.

it’s become a part of your routine. you both live your lives during the day and at night, hobie comes by to climb into bed beside you. you spend the morning together, just for him to leave and do the same the next day. as long as neither of you acknowledge it, he doesn’t count it as a consistent schedule and therefore doesn’t feel the need to stop.

you don’t lift your head to acknowledge him like you routinely do. instead, your manicured hands dart across the keyboard. “got home from work late, got an essay to write. it’s due tomorrow night.”

“what?” his shadow grows nearer with each step he takes towards you. hobie knows you’re too far gone when you don’t reprimand him from sitting on your desk. “it’s almost four in the morning, lovely. you can’t do it tomorrow?”

“no,” there’s a pause between your words and the silence is filled with your incessant typing, “i picked up a shift at work so i can’t.”

“you’re becoming a cog in the capitalism machine. that’s why you’re so stressed out. you should to take a break before they make you a mindless slave. that’s what they want, y’know. for more people to – ”

you tilt your back, a sigh leaving your lips. your eyes close with the attempt to find what dwindling patience you have. “hobie, i really cannot do it tonight. i have an essay to write and it’s due tomorrow. i just told you that.”

he stares at you, only for a moment. there’s a lot of things he isn’t enjoying about this. the fact that you’re still awake, the fact that you’re stressing over something put in place to make you feel bad about yourself, and the fact that you’re snapping at him. he’s sure it’s due to your lack of sleep but that doesn’t make him feel any better about it. “you’re in a shitty mood and it’s starting to bother me.”

“wow, really?” you can’t help your sarcastic tone. it slips out before you’re aware of it. “i didn’t even realize i wasn’t feeling super good!” your eyes are rolling as you place the laptop on what desk space is left from his limber body. you regret it the moment you say it but you’re so deeply set in your ways that the second thought doesn’t linger long.

he’s silent again, fingers tapping against the desktop. he stares at the floor, outlining the wood detailing with his eyes.

you both stay like this for a while, typing and staring at the floor. you can’t deny his company aiding your stress relief. it’s always nice to have hobie around, even if he isn’t doing anything.

ten minutes pass before hobie is glancing at the clock. “alright,” he finally says while rising to his feet. “time for bed, love.” he turns your chair himself, dragging you away from your nearly completed essay.

“what are you doing? i have work to do.” you struggle against him, tugging your arms but to no avail. he’s just so much more stronger than you, pulling you to your feet and into his arms. “hobie,” you whine as he gathers you up and into the air with his super human abilities.

“oh, i heard you,” hobie says, closing your screen and turning off your desk lamp. the room immediately gets dark. the lamp functioned as the sole light in these hours. having it off sent your space in a blanket of nothingness. “i just don’t care. you’re tired and your attitude is shit.”

you can never get over how easily he overpowers you, despite his tiny frame. while hobie is large in height, he’s the lankiest thing. his strength solely came from his radioactive spider.

you huff, throwing your weight around. all it does is get you tossed onto the bed. because your eyes have yet to adjust to the lighting, you’re unable to see a thing. you can’t help but shriek upon impact, bouncing on your mattress. “what the hell, ‘bie? my attitude is shit? your attitude is shit. mad at me because i’m not giving you attention because i have stuff to do. of course i’m tired. i’ve been up all night because i actually have responsibilities.”

“stop fightin’ with me.” hobie worms his way next to your body. his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “and while you’re at it, stop talkin’ and go to sleep.”

you’re still mumbling your distaste against his skin, arms pushing against him. you’re refusing to go down like this, to let him simply take you away from the essay you’ve been working so hard on. you’re so close to finishing, you can taste it. “isn’t this against what you stand for? thought it’s wrong to force someone to do something.”

he only holds you tighter, strapping your arms down in his grip. “you’re not takin’ care of yourself, princess. didn’t sleep last night, didn’t sleep the night before. think i’m gonna let you not sleep again? especially since you’re talkin’ to me like you’ve lost your mind.”

“i’m not! i didn’t say anything to you. if your feelings are hurt that’s your fault.” you resorting to using your feet, kicking at him until he’s forced to tangle his legs with yours.

“you’re always sayin’ the same thing when i call you out on somethin’. ‘i didn’t do it’. ‘it’s your fault’. ‘i’m not sorry’.” hobie’s voice raises a few octaves to mock yours. “it’s not rocket science. just admit it and let me help you.”

your cheeks puff in irritation. his route isn’t helping your mood and knowing unfinished work is just arms length away is making you antsy. “unless you’re gonna get up and do it for me, which you won’t, you can’t help me.”

with your next blink, you find yourself on your back. the bed dips and rises as hobie adjusts his position, arms locking around your legs and hands resting on your stomach. “what the actual fuck are you doing?” you sit up and as a result, slide out of his grasp just a bit.

hobie just yanks you back down and tightens his hold, leaving you no choice but to remain at his mercy. “helpin’ you. if you don’t wanna go to sleep, fine. i’ll just make sure you can’t do nothin’ else.”

he rolls the hem of your gown up, despite your protests above him. you wiggle about but it has no effect on his focus. he’s too busy staring at the pretty cotton panties you sport. “you need to relax, treacle. gonna spread yourself thin.”

you blow out a breath, somewhat mixed with frustration and defeat. you know he’s right but your mind is already racing with everything you have to complete this week, including going to work and making school deadlines. “that’s reality, ‘bie. that’s how it is. i’m not a crime fighting, rioting spider person with no cares for anything. i actually have to be a cog in the machine or whatever you said.”

his lips ghost and press against your skin, littering soft kisses along your inner thigh. “so? don’t gotta let them use you like this.”

“hobie.”

he hooks his finger around the bottom, pulling the white material to the side. “jus’ worried about you is all, dovey. shouldn’t even be awake, much less doing somethin’ right now.”

he tenderly kneads the stress away at your hip while his thumb coaxes you into submission, drawing slow circles on your clit. he leans his head against your skin, looking through his eyelashes to watch you.

you, who’s struggling to give off an unaffected impression, eyes closed and knees bending. “get off. you’re annoying me.” your slight grip on your sheets tell him otherwise.

“mhm,” hobie hums. his gaze is trained on you and you only while he warms your sex up to his touch. “you gonna go to sleep if i do?”

your silence is a loud enough response for him. he turns back to your now glistening cunt. his thumb glides over it with ease, collecting your slick and redistributing it along your folds.

he doesn’t understand you and your need to fight against him. hobie really is just trying to take care of you and you’re insisting on ignoring him and rotting your soul away. as if he is going to stand by and let that happen.

you keen at the feeling of his tongue running over your cunny, flat and thick. a soft pant falls out your lips, just barely open. your fingers curl into your palm. there’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to know, yet, how quickly he’s consuming your thoughts so you force you spine into the mattress and hold your arms against yourself.

you clench your teeth together and mute the moans that crawl their way up your throat as hobie drags his tongue around. his lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, suckling off the juices. his lips piercings aren’t helping, slotting against your skin and sending you into overdrive.

he glances at you for a second, only when you give in and entangle your hand in his hair. the tug that follows only pulls him closer. he has to pull your thighs apart when they threaten to close around his head. any other day, he’d stare at you with a warning slap to your pussy but tonight, he lets it slide in hopes you’ll tire yourself out.

hobie can tell your close when your writhe in his hold, both to get away from and get closer to his tongue. he’s easing you into it with a hand reaching up to clasp yours and another at the soft skin of your tummy, forcing your back out the arch. he massages your skin in encouragement at your orgasm that comes ripping through your body.

hobie, although unhappily, has to leave your pretty pussy behind. you’re pulling his hair so hard, he’s forced to resurface until he’s eye level. “feel better?” he positions himself next to you on his side. he’s sweet, draping his arm around your waist.

as he expected, you nod and curl into his chest. you can’t deny that much of the stress you felt before dissipated. hobie’s warmth is soothing, enticing you to revel in your sheets. you’re grateful when he pulls the duvet over your bodies.

his head is in the groove between your neck and shoulder, peppering kisses along your skin. “that’s good to hear, duck.” his fingers run up and down your back, just grazing and dipping farther and farther down. “still thinkin’ about all’at stuff?”

“yeah but i can just do it tomorrow. it’s not like i have a lot left because i already did most of – hobie!”

you shriek when his fingers suddenly become nestled inside you. you grip his shirt, hiding within his chest. you shudder at the feeling of them move, stroking against your cunt.

“you’re still thinkin’ about it.” he chastises with a click of his tongue. he holds you in place to control your twitching, continuing to peg his digits into you. “wrong answer.”

“i’m not,” you whine. you can both feel your gummy walls tighten and twitch, sucking him in despite you campaigning to get away from him.

“you’re not?” hobie cradles you against him, gentle in touch. “could have sworn you just said it, though.”

you whimper and mewl, torn between enjoyment and overstimulation. his fingers are larger than you can comprehend, digging dip within your core, and much longer than yours, pressing farther than you could ever do yourself.

you’re reduced to sobs, nearly shredding his shirt into two with how much you’re pulling it apart. the popping of the seams is drowned by your voice and the squelching of your slick against his hand.

his arm against your back leaves you little room to struggle with his fingers prodding from behind. at some point your leg slips around his waist.

“it’s okay, pretty. i got you, yeah?” hobie feels hot, physically hot. the duvet wasn’t helping, trapping your body heat that increased with each movement. he also can’t help his massive boner, having to fight the urge to rut against you.

hobie knows this is about you, or rather that he’s making it about you. about helping his baby get to sleep. this isn’t the first time he’s came back and seen you up at the late hours of the night. the first few times, he let it go but the longer this continues, the more messed up your sleep schedule is going to be. he has to interfere, especially when you’ve been waking up in a terrible mood each morning, a frown already settled on your lips before you’ve even gotten out of bed.

he’s so deep in his thoughts, hobie nearly misses how desperate you suddenly get. it’s only when you’re reaching behind to grasp his wrist that his brain fog is gone.

he didn’t realize, either, how much faster he’s moving, fingers bumping against your spot. “dove,” hobie says it softly, “i don’t want to use my webs on you. move em’ before i do.”

you’re reluctant but obliged, unwrapping your fingers from his wrist and hanging them over his shoulder. you find yourself plunging your nails into his skin. “hobie,” you cry out, hips grinding against him.

“i know, pretty. i know,” he whispers against your forehead. “let it out. i got you.” hobie consoles you as your body tenses in his hold.

you’re all wound up, taking a final gasp as it all rolls off your skin. he draws gushes of your cum out your leaking hole and swallows your sobs in his mouth, connected with a kiss. you’re grateful for his comfort, clinging onto him as if he is your saving grace

your chest rises and falls with each breath and you shove his hand away. “no more,” you roll away from him, simultaneously pulling off the covers for some much needed cool air.

it’s futile when hobie draws you back into him after tossing off his shirt, himself. “nah, i think you have another one left in you.” you can feel him shuffling behind you and assume he’s preparing to pull his dick out.

you tightly cross your legs together at his words, eyes darting around for a clock. “what? it’s so late, though. i have so much to do tomorrow, too. we should just sleep.”

your rational fall on deaf ears because he’s easily lifting your leg into the air and almost to your shoulders. “oh? you have a lot to do tomorrow?”

his tone has your stomach twisting. you wet your lips, feeling around for something to hold on to. “n – no. i don’t. i’m not doing anything tomorrow.”

the fat tip of his cock slaps against your folds, sticky from his own arousal. “too late, lovely. you already said it. gotta fuck it out of you.”

you’re still pleading your disagreement and how you’ll start sleeping at a proper time when hobie stuffs his cockhead inside your cunny.

he groans in your ear upon your welcoming wet grip. you always feel so good, at this point he’s addicted. if he ever died in your cunt, hobie would be the happiest man in the world.

thanks to the previous orgasms, there’s no pushback. only you griping about how you can’t take it and that he’s too big, which hobie knows is a lie. truthfully, you go through the same thing every time and he can never get enough of it.

“tired yet?” he grunts in tune with his rapid, steady paced thrusts. hobie doesn’t expect anything past your incoherent gargles.

you clutch the mattress under your pillow, prying at the fitted sheet. with every thrust, your body lurches forward. your head turns on your own accord, reaching out to cup his cheek.

you’re so cute, he thinks, with your eyes big and round and full of enchantment. you heave him towards you until your lips are moving together in perfect synchrony.

hobie wraps his tongue around yours, sitting up to deepen in. with his neck craned down and your dress pulled up, he gets a perfect view of his dick sliding in and out.

it glistens, even if the limited moonlight. the base is especially glazed over, foaming with a white sheen.

he feels like he’s becoming deranged when you toss your head back in ecstasy. you’re going to kill him, he’s sure.

and he’s even more sure when your tiny fist is rapping against the bed. “oh my days, oh my – fuck!” you outstretch your arm until you find his, grabbing in a firm hold.

hobie plants his head on top of yours and inhales the whiffs of hair products from your bonnet. he can smell the lingering hints of rosemary from your oil. “no more staying up late, you hear? pissin’ me off with this.”

and like the best girl you are, you nod brainlessly. your wordless promise is taken seriously, you’re sure. it’s cemented when hobie forces you to look at him.

his eye contact is just as intense as the grip on your cheeks. you can see just how vehement he is and it only makes you needier.

your face screws up as one final indication before your entire body trembles. you fall limp onto your side, cunt spasming around him. you’ve been fucked into oblivion, ready to settle in for the night. to your surprise, hobie has other plans.

his pulling out has you thinking he’s done, only to roll you into your back and position himself on top of you. he doesn’t wait for you realize what’s happening before he’s aligning his tip with your entrance again and gliding it in with ease.

you feel full to the brim, one hand on his chest and the other scraping your nails against the headboard. at some point, he supposes his own lust kicked in. after putting your needs first, he’s given free reign to chase his own orgasm.

that’s exactly what he’s doing now, pounding into you with such speed, your tits have been jostled out your top. the brown of your nipples has his infatuated brain screaming.

“hobie!” you all but yell. you’re inching slowly towards the top of the bed, unaware of your movements. hobie isn’t, though. he finds purchase at your hips to shift you back into place.

“hold – hold on. jus’ wait.” he moves both your legs over his left shoulder, driving deep.

you swear you can feel him in your throat, swear he’s realigning your insides like some sort of chiropractor. “gonna – ” your eyes roll to the back of your head. your nails dig into his back and drag across the skin as you try to ground yourself.

immediately, his attention fall to your cunt. hobie expects to see the usual sparkling ooze of cum but to his marvelment, watery squirts take it’s place.

you seize up so tight on him, he’s forced to release inside you without warning. he has to remember to hold himself up as to not crush you beneath him. all he can think about is how that was probably the best nut he’s ever had.

“you . . . you wanna finish your paper?” hobie says finally. he’s the first one to speak as you were both trying to catch your breath from your late night exercise.

you so quickly scowl at him, both at the implications and the thought of doing anything else tonight. “you must not value your life. you can’t.”

hobie smiles, lazily. he kneads at your muscles. “bear with me, treacle. ‘s gonna be uncomfortable.” he warns, anticipating the wince your expression turns into as he pulls out, genuinely this time.

you can feel the scratches developing from your previous actions, rubbing his shoulders, and a tinge of guilt tugs at your heart. “sorry. for these and all the worry i caused you . . . and also for what i said.” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close until you’re both laying down, cuddling up on each other. although you can’t quite remember what you said, you know you would have never uttered the words on a normal day.

he shrugs, fixing your slipping bonnet and unbunching your nightgown. “it’s in the past. i’m not thinkin’ about that, right now. i’m thinkin’ about how we need to get you ready for bed, again. can’t go to bed like this.”

he’s right but you’re still dramatic about in, unwilling to leave the comfort of your bed. “ten minutes.” you say, eyes fluttering closed. you revel in your sheets as long as you can before hobie chuckles, ripping them off.

“no, can’t do that. we’re doin’ it now. we both have to shower and shit and you probably can’t stand without me,” his voice is lighthearted, if not evident by the smirk playing in his lips.

he’s carrying you again, subjecting you to the princess treatment he feels you deserve. the most funny part about this, to him, is how dedicated you were before to staying up all night.

now, you’re all pliant and it’s purely due to him and his cock. even though hobie made you promise these endless nights won’t continue, he definitely doesn’t mind doing this again. especially after how easily you finally knock out, mouth wide open and snoring.

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