#2nd person fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supercutszns · 4 months

Text

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #charlie bushnell #this is far longer than i wanted it to be so sorry.#don’t usually write in 2nd person or present tense so i’m just trying not to look at it #the evil men with curly hair have won again

6K notes · View notes

yes-divine-ruler · 1 year

Note

Riding Tates face, but the boys so turned on he also cums in his pants. ❤️ I love your acc sm

You kept yourself up right with the support of Tate’s chest, the accelerated beating of his heart pounding through his skin and into your palms. His wet lips and tongue lapped at your sopping folds, one of his hands reaching upwards to knead your left breast. He was a moaning, spluttering mess under you, as your hips rut upwards every time he’d slide his tongue inside you.

“Tate, my god, that feels so fucking good,” you couldn’t contain your praise, and Tate couldn’t get enough of it. His cock pulsed behind the confines of his boxers, his toes curling with every lewd compliment that left your parted lips. He devoured you, lips wrapping around your clit and suckling on it gently.

Everything about it felt so intoxicating, and soon he’d formed a tiny wet patch where beads of pre-cum began to stain his boxers.

Every low moan that was elicited from Tate shuddered through your tense body, every minute of his pleasurable assault pushing you closer to your sweet release.

“Tate- fuck- I’m cumming.”

Your declaration had Tate chasing your orgasm, his lips swollen and his tongue aching as they expertly worked at your pussy.

When you came, Tate couldn’t contain himself any longer, revelling in the way your moans laced with profanity circulated the room, and the way your thighs shook around his head.

You didn’t have to touch him, not even once, for Tate to release himself, coating the insides of his boxers in a warm puddle of his seed. You groaned at the sight, letting Tate pepper kisses down your inner thighs between soft pants as you watched the last few twitches of his thick cock.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Tate muttered against your pussy, “everything about you is just so fucking pretty.”

4K notes · View notes

wild-magic-oops · 5 months

Text

Durge consumes the Noblestalk mushroom and regains a vivid durgetash memory from during their heist in the Hells

(2nd person pov because that's how memories work in the game. Written with my m!Durge in mind)

You feel a splitting headache for a moment before a memory comes rushing in. You are in a wide hallway, in a richly decorated home of some sort. The floor is littered with the corpses of dozens of Hell's denizens, blood still pooling under them - a clear sign of a battle just passed. And amongst the carnage, standing tall and bloodied, is a dark-haired man with a half-crazed grin on his face, chest still heaving from the fight, eyes alight with so much emotion you can almost drown in them. This feels cathartic to him somehow, a victory for more reasons than are apparent. And he is magnificent in his triumph.

A name tickles the edges of you mind - the man's name. Enver. He turns sharply towards you, dark eyes now hungry for a different reason. A few quick steps and he pushes you against the wall with enough force to rattle your skull a bit. You feel your lips pull in a wide grin, clearly enjoying yourself. He grins back at you, then sinks his teeth into your lower lip, breaking the skin a bit, enough to hurt just the right amount. He knows you so well. You bite back in return, his blood so sweet on your tongue, his lip so tender between your teeth, and his scent so heavy in the air. Your body sings with pleasure and urgency.

His clever bloodied fingers work both his and your own pants open, just enough. You don't have time, but your arousal cannot be ignored. He takes you both in his hand, coating your flesh with the blood of his enemies. It's depraved, vile, and absolutely glorious. The blood is still warm, but thickening with every stroke. Delicious, divine. Closer, closer, you're on the precipices...

With a snap the memory fades, and you're on your knees in the dirt of the Underdark, pants so tight it almost hurts. You will need to take care of your problem before venturing back to camp. You are left wondering about the man. This Enver person. Were the two of you lovers? Deep down in your heart you feel such connection. The type of bond that defies the gods. Was it ever the same for him you wonder.

[ AO3 LINK ]

#durgetash #enver gortash #gortash x durge #durge x gortash #durge #bg3 #my posts #my fics #I can't believe I wrote a 2nd person pov #but it fits with how it is in the game #even tho I dislike 2nd pov and never reads fics ft that #writing it is better tho #did I manage to write durgetash fucked up enough to pass I wonder lmao

332 notes · View notes

goodgriefwhatanerd · 2 months

Text

Think of Astarion biting your neck, but like a vampire bat. No deep bites leaving gaping holes, just deep scratch from a canine so sharp you barely notice the pain before his tongue is on your skin, lapping the blood up like a cat. It's a slow, steady feed, no danger of over-indulgence. Instead you can just cuddle up together in your shared bedroll, your sweet Star drinking in your warmth in every way he can. Stroke his hair. Kiss him. Astarion may drink from others, but only with you can he savour what could be half an hour of this gentle intimacy.

#i am feeling a certain way about him #astarion x reader #astarion x you #i know i've got it bad when i'm considering writing a proper 2nd person fic that's just this #2nd person is hell to write but apparently only video game vampires can compel me to try it

75 notes · View notes

place-called-space · 1 month

Text

it’s finals week and i’m genuinely dying trying to write all these final projects and essays for my classes but... there’s a smutty one shot idea for our favorite lawyer that’s been rattling around in my brain for ages and i’m not sure if i can ignore it for much longer🫣

it'll be my first relatively plotless one shot that i'd post on this hellsite but there's been such a drought of matty fics recently that i feel compelled to feed and water the masses

i probably won't get around to actually writing it until after this week, and we'll be lucky if i post it by the end of next week, but for now let me set the scene 🫶🏼

content warning: dom/sub dynamics (orgasm control/denial, ruined orgasm, edging), semi-public phone sex? (matt’s in his office with the door closed but it’s implied that karen and foggy are in the next room), masturbation (male and female, but neither of them actually cum), fingering, reader is ✨sexually frustrated✨ so she slips into subspace easily, body worship/fantisization? (reader has a very active imagination and she actively imagines several naughty situations with matt), reader’s wet dream (not super detailed, just mentioned in passing)

it feels like it's been weeks since the two of you have spent any real time together.

the firm has been busy with some high-paying client that they're not in a financial position to turn down, so it's been all hands on deck for the better part of the last month. matt has to leave before you get up, but he nudges you awake to say goodbye, pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting you know if he has a lunch meeting or not so you can call and hear his voice for a blessed 30 minutes.

and because the universe hates you, matt's duties as daredevil haven't eased up either. all you've been able to get out of him is that he's been staking out one of the smaller crime families in hell's kitchen that have been looking for an opportunity to gain more power. he hears whispers of smugglers and arms deals and he barely has time to scarf down some eggs and toast-

(carbs and protein to hold him over until he can turn in for the night and warm up the plate you always left for him)

-before he's sheathed in kevlar and leather, shouting over his shoulder to not wait up for him before fleeing out the roof access door.

and of course you miss him.

you used to make coffee for you both as he got ready for work, chatting idly about that crime docuseries karen had recommended and getting matt to translate the legal jargon. you'd loop his tie around his neck, tightening the knot before pulling him down for a kiss, passing him his briefcase before sending him off to work.

he'd come home after work, smiling as he came through the door because he'd been able to hear your voice from the lobby as you made dinner, singing along to one of his favorite vinyl records. soft jazz and pasta sauce and you would smother his senses as soon as he stepped into the apartment and as soon as he shucked off his shoes and set his briefcase down, he'd round the kitchen island and wrap his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling at your neck and peppering your skin with kisses, reveling in the delighted giggles you let out.

but with his new schedule, the apartment seemed so empty.

you were eating alone and washing one set of dishes, sleeping in a bed too big and too cold for just you. you missed the way his arms would wind around you as you slept, the fearsome vigilante that struck fear into the hearts of criminals throughout the city suddenly becoming a cuddle octopus, greedy to feel your skin on his.

you missed all the small, sweet things about him, the romantic moments that would make your heart melt... but you also missed the steamy, intimate moments where your hands would wander each other's bodies, unwilling to be separated for even a moment.

it had been weeks since you'd had sex, and you missed the way his cock split you open, the low, hoarse growl his voice would become as he crooned poisoned honey into your ear, the delicious mix of praise and degradation turning your brain to mush.

you could feel your own impatience building with each night you went unsatisfied, a dull ache beginning to throb between your legs as your body struggled to adapt. you'd gone from cumming at least once a day to nothing at all in the blink of an eye, and you were having trouble adjusting.

waking up to an empty bed for the third week in a row had nearly sent you into a fit, your panties already soaked through from the remnants of a blissful dream where matt had tied you up, your legs bent and spread wide as he toyed with your puffy folds, his fingers slick with your arousal as he'd slowly slid them inside you...

fed up, your hand had already dipped below the waistband of your sleep shorts, your fingers barely brushing your clit, a soft moan leaving you as your body finally got some relief-

but then your phone rang, matt's handsome face beaming up at you. taunting you.

you answered the phone with a breathy call of "matty" because you knew he'd heard you and two could play at that game, and the low octave with which he says your name makes you moan again, pleasure sparking to life in your core as you sink two fingers into your drooling cunt.

matt calls your name sharply, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"naughty girl," he admonishes, his voice somehow both sweet and condescending. "so impatient. i'd wondered how long it would take you to break, but i didn't expect it to be so soon."

you whine into the receiver, your anger melting away as you remembered you hadn't been the only one suffering these last few weeks. it must've been nothing short of torture for matt to wake up to the smell of your arousal, his rapidly swelling cock nestled against your ass, aching and eager to satisfy the primal urge to mark you in every way possible. and yet, every morning, he'd forced himself to ignore it, to take a cold shower and hurriedly get dressed, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before shuffling out of the apartment, still half-hard.

the thought only made you more desperate for him. god, did you wish he was here with you, with his much thicker fingers stuffing your pussy, stretching you out and prepping you so you could take his thick cock. you wanted him under you, breathlessly kneading the flesh of your tits as you bounced on his cock, your eyes rolling back as his impressive length dragged against that special spongey spot inside you with each smack of your hips against his, your cunt squeezing him tight and drawing out the pleasure for both of you.

but the apartment was empty and his side of the bed was cold, his scent faint on the silk sheets you both adored. a pang of loneliness hit you then, wanting his skin on yours and his voice filling your head with mindless praise.

frustrated tears stung at your eyes, but you were determined to make the most of this. you had him on the phone, you had a shot at getting what you wanted. all you needed was a few more words from him, maybe a countdown if you were lucky. you were so worked up, you could probably cum just from him reading you the new york penal code.

so you beg.

"please, matty," you whine prettily, another breathy little moan leaving you as you begin to pump your fingers in and out of your dripping pussy, the friction delicious after so long with nothing. "i need-"

"what you need," matt cuts you off swiftly, his voice so dark and commanding even through the phone that your body freezes, "is some manners. i enjoy spoiling you, sweetheart, but that doesn't mean you can cum without permission."

the whine you let out this time is significantly more petulant than before, the sound high and needy, but matt quickly curbs your bad attitude with another click of his tongue, his disapproval clear.

"don't be a brat," he says, patronizing and confident in his control over you. "just because i've been busy doesn't mean i forgot about my sweet girl."

the pet name makes your breath catch in your throat. matt hardly ever called you that. he'd always preferred the softer, more affectionate nicknames. sweetheart. darling. the occasional honey and sweetie.

but sweet girl? that coveted term of endearment had always been wreathed in coarse shadow instead of suave charm, cooed in the low, dangerous tone of the Devil.

your cunt clenches around the fingers you still have buried within yourself, though they had long since stalled their movements, and matt, damn him, somehow knows that he has you hooked, a satisfied purr meeting your ears.

"there we go," you hear him murmur, pleased. "there's my sweet girl. so good for me, i didn't even have to tell you to stop. no punishment for you, then, but you'll still have to earn your reward."

the breath that leaves you is half desire, half relief, already squirming on the bed. surely he just wanted a show, something to hold him over until the work day was done and he could come home and have his way with you. your moans would replay in his head all day, your breathless cry of his name making his cock twitch beneath his desk every time it echoed through his mind, his thoughts muddled and disjointed as he struggled to focus on the case.

"tell me what to do," you plead, your own thoughts already growing fuzzy around the edges, dizzy with anticipation of the climax he was sure to grant you. "miss you so much, matty... i wanna be good…"

matt groans low on the other line, an excited shiver running through you as you hear the barely audible "fuck" accompany the distinct sound of his belt unbuckling.

"need to hear you, sweet girl," he hisses. a shaky exhale leaves him next, and you imagine he's just freed his cock, the vein running along the shaft throbbing. the tip is probably flushed a dark pink and probably already leaking salty precome, his balls heavy and full from almost a full month of not satisfying himself.

christ, was your mouth watering?

"go on, sweet girl," matt tells you, his voice hoarse. "keep touching yourself. make yourself feel good."

far be it from you to disobey a direct order.

your fingers began thrusting once more, your low, breathy moans becoming high and whiney within minutes, not making an effort to silence yourself. matt wanted a show, so you were going to give him one, noise complaints be damned.

it doesn't take long for the knot within your belly to tighten, your body teetering on the edge of a long-awaited orgasm. you were practically half-delirious, so grateful for the pleasure that you'd already begun expressing your gratitude, your thanks garbled and slurred but genuine nonetheless.

you don't hear the mean, condescending bark of laughter, too caught up in your own ecstasy. you were so close, your forearm burning and your cunt beginning to pulse as you neared the edge, your jaw falling slack as you prepared for the monumental release of pleasure-

"stop."

your body obeyed without consciously thinking about it, your fingers slipping out of you. your poor cunt clenches and flutters around nothing, feeling achingly empty as your pleasure stalls and curdles, spoiling like milk in the sun.

you lay there for a moment, your chest heaving as you try to figure out what happened. your pussy was sensitive and tingling, still pulsing weakly with a ruined orgasm that had given you no satisfaction. you wanted more, damn it, but most of all, you wanted him.

"matty," you cry brokenly, vision blurry with frustrated tears. "why did you... why..."

Your rambling was slurred but audible to your tormenter, his delighted chuckles making you shudder.

"sorry, sweet girl," matt said, not an ounce of remorse in his voice, "but i wanna be there with you when you cum. i need to feel that pretty pussy squeeze my cock, need to hear you moan my name as i fuck you."

he lets out a strained groan, and you imagine he has his fist wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, preventing himself from reaching the pinnacle he'd so cruelly snatched you away from.

you hadn't cum, but neither did he.

you whine at the thought, your pussy still fluttering weakly. you sniffle quietly, still mourning your ruined orgasm, and there's a burst of static, like he'd just sighed.

"you did so well for me, sweetie," matt murmurs, his tone no longer mean, but warm and loving. "i know it hurts, but i'll make it up to you tonight. i'll make you feel so good, you'll forget this ever happened."

though your eyes are still glassy with tears, matt's subtle switch in temperament did wonders for your mood, the promise of pleasure soothing your wounded pride. you sniffle again, working up the courage to meekly inquire, "promise?"

matt hums again, and you can imagine the pleased grin on his face as he purrs your name, the sound of his voice making you melt.

"i promise."

a/n: my brain literally couldn’t focus on anything else while i had this mf rattling around in there. this will be an actual oneshot at some point where we actually get some gratification, maybe even a two-parter! depending on how fried my brain is after cranking out multiple 2k word finals, it could be posted in either 5 days or 5 years or anywhere in between.

i do actually like writing guys i swear 😭 but i’m a humanities major so i do a lot of writing for my degree and my free time consists of thinking about the roman empire (for my major) and reading greek philosophy (also for my major).

glad i got this out as proof of life, didn’t mean to be horny on main but there is no other valid response when it comes to mr. murdock. i hope you guys enjoyed and let me know what you think!

- estrella ★

92 notes · View notes

platonically-loving-alastor · 13 days

Text

Y'all I swear I've never thought about trans headcanons in general for Hazbin characters, but then ONE fic is like "btw Vox is trans here" and now it's steadily infiltrating my mind

#as a transmasc person whose 2nd favorite character is vox #this is quite an opportunity for me to project shit onto him #no i will not be specifying the fic i dont need a callout lmao #hazbin hotel #vox #trans vox #the vees #hazbin hotel headcanons

43 notes · View notes

johnnystorms · 3 months

Text

Your name is Steve Rogers. You are not afraid to die.

When you dream, there is a tower. Sometimes a mansion; sometimes nothing at all, just a winding, open road and the endless thrum of a bike between your thighs, more power than you thought possible.

Mostly, when you dream, it's like this:

The curve of a smile, the left corner lifted a little higher than the right. Muffled laughter, buried in the crook of your neck, and the scratching of facial hair against your throat. An arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung around a shoulder. A line of heat down your side. Sleek laboratories filled with gizmos you don't have words for, shiny enough that your dream-eyes just glance over them, always hunting out the one living thing in the room, dark circles under blue eyes and a tired smile and a metallic thud when you tap at his chest.

Sometimes there are gods, and monsters, and things you never thought you would see—never thought you could even dream—but at the heart of all of them is the same story. People will always do things they didn't think possible when something they want is on the line. Sometimes it's a person, sometimes it's power, sometimes it's a thing so vast and unbelievable you will never understand. But someone will.

You'll say, but all those people, and someone else will say, she doesn't care about that. You'll say, we have to help them, and someone else will say, that's not up to us anymore. You'll say, please, and he'll look at you, exhausted, and say, I don't know how to do this with you.

He will look up at you, that self-deprecating half-smile on his face, and your heart will burn with it. You will burn with it, and you will say, I had no-one. Nothing. You gave me a purpose, somewhere to belong. You gave me a home.

Sometimes the world is ending in your dreams, fire and fury and something violent coursing through your bloodstream, and you see his face and you want to put your fist right through it. Sometimes the world is quiet, and it's that early hour when the morning blue is starting to fade to a pale gold, and he smiles at you, and you ache with the desire for something different.

It feels -- like something slipping through your fingers. Dreams that could be memories, except you don't have names for anything in them. Things that feel real, but you can't catch long enough to hold onto.

Maybe the war has taken more from you than you realised. You gave it your body, your beliefs, your fists and your spirit. You knew it would take your peace. You did not realise it you gave it your dreams too.

Your name is Steve Rogers, and one day, you will wake up.

#steve rogers #stevetony #tony stark #you gave me a home #stony fic #idk what this is but a while ago we were talking about 2nd person pov in the 616 stevetony server #and i needed a warm up for my Actual Fic Writing later. so here's a silly lil thing on my silly lil side acc while i gear up for the night #m #jane writes sometimes

58 notes · View notes

nakunakunomi · 7 months

Text

It's the thought - Izo x Reader

Look, I know I am supposed to be writing Spooktober things now, but I couldn't really let this pass without at least a little writing. So without any further ado, enjoy a little celebratory blurb for the one true love of my life, Izo! 2nd person. GN reader. Modern AU

It was a beautiful fall day: the leaves on the trees had been turning all shades of crimson, orange and yellow, and the temperatures had lowered from the scorching summer heat to something more pleasant, without being actually cold. Fall had officially started, and you were absolutely enjoying the atmosphere.

You were home alone for now, making use of the time you had to yourself to warm up the oven and get to baking. For fall, pumpkin spice everything seemed like the obvious choice- but not today. Today you had an entirely different mission: bake your boyfriend a cake. You had found a recipe online that was beginner-friendly yet ambitious: two layers and a cream frosting, soft pink details and strawberries. They were out of season now, but you knew how much Izo loved them, and you wouldn’t spare any effort for his birthday.

You’d been a little sad to be hearing he’d still be working today, as you had hoped he’d maybe take the day off for his birthday, but he’s never made a big deal out of it.

“When you’re my age, y/n, it truly doesn’t matter much anymore. It’s just another day. But, if you’d like, we can go out to dinner, the two of us?”

You had -of course- agreed, but since you were home anyway, you had decided that you wanted to surprise him as well. After all, he made such an effort of surprising and pampering you throughout the year, with little thoughtful gifts, flowers to make your house an even more beautiful place, takeout of your favorite meals whenever you were too tired to cook…

So you had gone out, purchased all the ingredients for a cake (and some more, just in case something went wrong), his favorite flowers, and put those in a vase on the table. You had made a card with a handwritten love letter earlier, and had now put it next to the vase and a little box that was neatly wrapped with a rose gold paper. Inside was a watch you had seen him eye a couple times before, but never purchasing it, because he felt like it was too expensive for a watch, especially since he still had one that was working perfectly fine still.

The oven signaled that it was done preheating, and you practically jumped from the sound, already confused how time was flying by so fast; you had barely set the table with gifts and hadn’t even started measuring and weighing the ingredients. You let the oven sit like that for now and got to quickly prepping the ingredients. Once preparations were over, it didn’t take too long for you to actually do the recipe. You made sure to follow the recipe to the letter, knowing that baking was more of a precision job than cooking usually was.

When the cake was finally in the oven, you cleaned up the counter and prepared the frosting. After that, you let the cake cool down on the counter while you tidied up the house. You opened up a window to let the room air out, and went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for your dinner date already. That way you could focus on cake decorating until Izo got home, and leave for the restaurant whenever he was ready, You didn’t want him to have to wait for you.

You put on your favorite music while washing up, loudly singing along and already imagining what the evening was going to be like. You were getting excited when-

You heard some noises downstairs, and even though the shower was running hot, you suddenly got cold shivers.

You then heard some yelling, and were ready to panic until you recognized the voice.

“Izo?” you walked downstairs carefully, nothing but a towel wrapped around your frame, still dripping wet, being careful not to slip.

“Y/n?” You sighed in relief when you realized it was in fact Izo who had come home much earlier than anticipated. Your relief was short lived when you realized your surprise was a little ruined now, and then replaced by worry when you saw his face, confused and not at all the way you had expected him to look when he saw what you were preparing.

“What was that sound?” You walked up to him, giving him a brief kiss, whispering a happy birthday against his lips. “Well… I will assume you were preparing a surprise for me?” You nodded, and he chuckled. “Did you by any chance leave food out and a window open?” You closed your eyes, cursing as you realized what had probably happened. “I think the neighborhood cat was just as surprised as you were to find me home early.” You walked into the kitchen with him, only to find little pawprints in frosting all over, and the cake that was cooling down ruined with tooth marks and paw- and clawprints and more frosting smeared all over. At the very least it looked like the creature hadn’t ingested too much, so you were sure it would be fine. You looked over at the table, relieved to see that at least your gift setup wasn’t bothered by the cake thief either.

Still, your relief was replaced with sadness, as you did put in all the effort. You felt your bottom lip tremble as you took in the view, only to be pulled out of your thoughts by a strong arm around your waist. Izo pulled you into his side, chuckling softly.

“I wanted to surprise you. You seemed a little deflated that I didn’t want to celebrate beyond going out for dinner, so I wanted to see if we could maybe have a fun afternoon. I got off a little early, only to see that you were preparing something as well”

You nodded.

“It was going to be a strawberry cake, your favorite” “Does that mean you have fresh strawberries in the fridge?” You didn’t see it, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes”, you smiled as well. “And you got my favorite flowers,” he said, walking up to the table, taking you along with him with one arm still wrapped around your waist, the other softly touching the flowers, studying the arrangement. You looked at his face, admiring him instead of the flowers.

“Thank you.”

He turned to you before even opening the card or the present, and you smiled, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed about the whole situation: the failed surprise, the mess that the kitchen was, the fact that you were not ready, standing there shivering in your towel.

“You’re welcome, I wish it was mo-”

He shushed you with another kiss, effectively taking away most of your worries and otherwise negative feelings. He had that effect on you, immediately making you feel better with nothing but a loving gesture. "It's perfect”

You had no choice but to replace your frown with a smile as well.

“let me get dressed then, and then… we’ll celebrate” "And maybe clean up a little as well"

#izo x reader #izo one piece #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece izo #one piece x reader #izo imagine #izo x you #izou x reader #one piece izou #reader insert #2nd person pov #gn reader #birthday fic

79 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 1 month

Note

“And I’ll do it again” okay, so what’s the next au? Business rivals? Fae x Fae? Mermaids? SPILL THE AUS LIKE ITS TEA

Witch/Price immortal/historic fae au that's a giant metaphor for living with chronic illnesses and coming of age in your 30s.

Working title is: "The Price of Fire", but might change to "Until the Sun Stops Shining"

I have 6 chapters outlined. It's a slow burn, We learn Witch's name, and it takes place over 200 years as Price and Witch navigate their budding relationship and their seemingly unchanging bodies while the world around them hurtles towards the present day.

Guest appearance by Ghost and Love.

#ghoul speaks #thats the big fic on my docket #i keep jumping back and forth between 3rd person and 2nd person pov #the narration is focused on Witch but will switch to Price occasionally #feat Love as Witch's assistant helping her navigate modern day #and Ghost as Price's dog lol #idk thats my pitch for it #i want to write it in a way that i could protentially publish it

47 notes · View notes

tavyliasin · 4 months

Text

Dom!Gale Drabble (2nd Person)

Just a short one, inspired by the reactions to a certain actor reading another character's lines~ I am rather fond of expanding on ideas that people are already keen to run away with. Now, I know there's none of the usual preamble context or aftercare here, but this isn't a problematic Gale, he's just trying something new in his own way~ and he would be so soft with aftercare...gods he would truly lavish affections upon his beloved. The devotion in that man is truly beautiful~ So, smut below the cut, and expect a little dominant energy from our favourite Wizard of Waterdeep~

"On your knees, darling." The words didn't seem right coming from the wizard, or they wouldn't, had he not spoken in such a commanding tone you were not used to. Following the command in an instant, a strained whimper left your lips unbidden. "Hush now, don't wake the entire city. I haven't even started, yet." He watched you closely, as you felt your consciousness might abandon you on the spot. "Eyes open, my love, I will not have you averting your gaze. Not when you look so pretty down there, with that sweet colour rising in your cheeks." Gale reached down, hooking one finger beneath your chin, bringing his lips a whisper's breadth from your own but denying the kiss you yearned for. "Of course, if you do so insist on defying a simple order, there are a great many spells that can be more than persuasive." He straightened up, towering above you as he began to thumb through his spell book. "let me see here... Silence? No, no I should rather like to hear your voice crying out my name...ah, but here, Zone of Silence, that will ensure that your performance is for my ears alone. But what of your body, dearest? Are you going to do as you are bidden? Or will I be casting Hold Person?" You moved slightly, shifting on your knees, the thoughts flooding your mind as his voice sank through your ears lighting a fire within your body that would not easily be extinguished. "You're right, of course. If I were to use that one, I wouldn't be able to see you squirming beneath me. We can't have that, can we. Tentacles? Crude, but they would work... Or perhaps a simpler Entangle... Unless you would prefer I create some rope, and let you feel it slip across that beautiful skin of yours as I tie you up like a gift." He raised an eyebrow, looking over the book, eyes locking on yours and demanding a response. "Well? What will it be?"

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #dom gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #2nd person pov #2nd person fic #short fic

26 notes · View notes

fishermanshook · 6 months

Note

Bonjour Bonsoir

May I request headcanons for Andrew Kreiss where he has to protect the person he has feelings for in a match ? Like all fluffy and stuff !

Thanks !

Of course I can do that for you!

You first, Your Body Second. (grave keeper x gn!reader)

Roxman_ on Pinterest

I've been writing for idek how long now and I still f up grammar and spelling. Warning as always.

What is love? And what lengths would you go to protect the ones you do?

But you don't have to worry about that. Not when you've got the Gravekeeper to protect you from the dangers that present themselves in every match you play in.

He'll keep you safe, always and forever.

The Grave Keeper has only felt so much love in his life, which really only amounts to a couple specs of sand. He can't wrap his head around the concept of it all-let alone the feeling of it.

Out of all places to fall head over heels in, he had to in this hell hole? Nobody expects it, and it's surely a surprise to all who welcome the feeling.

Which is something that Andrew doesn't do at first. The poor boy doesn't think he is anywhere near deserving of all the love and attention you give him.

Andrew hasn't differentiated the difference between being generally kind to going out of your way to do something for someone who's developed a crush. He knows what he feels, but can't figure out if your trying to tell him you reciprocate these undying feelings.

He's new to love, having been void of it for almost all his life he's forced to take baby steps. But for you? It'll be worth it.

Your one and only game today is a regular match, thank gosh.

None the less, you find yourself chatting it up with the Grave Keeper. The others cannot fathom the fact that you seem to be the only one in the manor who could keep up a regular conversation with the man. But to the two of you, this is just another chat.

It was weird y'know, how quickly the two of you seemed to click. Out of all the Survivors, you find him the easiest to talk to. It's so easy to find tranquility in each other's presence that you lose track of time. (You and Andrew may or may not have accidentally been late to a couple matches because of this.)

The Grave Keeper has told you more about his life than he's told anyone else. You've excepted him for who he is, scars and all.

It's more than enough for the man to catch feelings.

He isn't entirely sure how to show it though, but maybe this match will be the perfect time to demonstrate it.

"Two ciphers left!" The Priestess shouts into her radio which allows the rest of the team to know to keep up the pace. She's stuck having to take over the kiting while she bides time for the Doctor to self heal herself, which shouldn't take long.

You're halfway through decoding your cipher before you hear the sound of teleporting, you're soon greeted with the sly smile that belongs to no one but "Fool's Gold". Seems the hunters changed targets.

"Shit," you mutter into the radio as you quickly throw down a pallet, almost risking a hit. "Hunter's here, continue decoding at all costs!"

For the rest of the decoding period, you weave your way through pallets and windows. Unfortunately, you take a hit which leaves blood pouring from your back and you in excruciatingly pain.

In the distance, you see a blurry figure with hair white as snow running towards you.

"Fuck, Andrew? Andre you've got to get out of here-"

Your voice is cut off by Andrew picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder.

"Wait are you seriously going to kite with me on your shoulder?"

"Of course not, I'd never risk you getting more hurt than you already are now. Just hold in there, I won't let you get hurt again, I promise." Andrew says as he makes a mad dash across the map. You soon see a glowing blue and black portal.

"Go now, I'll take over the kiting."

"Andrew no I can't let you do tha-" Your voice is silenced (again...) from Andrews lips on yours.

Does it catch you off guard? Yes. But you soon lean into the quick peck, rapping your arms around his neck.

"Mh, Darling I'd love to continue but I'd rather you be safe okay?" With another quick peck on the lips, the Grave Keeper helps you through the portal, which is quickly destroyed by "Fool's Gold's" pickaxe.

"I'll see you soon, my love."

The whole match seemed to have been an entire blur. Even while you got bandaged up and the entire team was able to get out you still can't comprehend what just happened moments earlier.

I guess that confirms my suspensions then... You say to yourself as you make your way back to your dorm room. Only to be stopped when you feel a strong hand grip your shoulder, turning you around.

"H-hey, um, how are you?" Andrew stutters and stumbles over his words, obviously worried about the move he pulled on you earlier.

"Hi Andrew. I'm doing more than okay, how are you feeling?" You ask him with a smile tugging on your lips as you rock back and forth on your heels.

"I'm d-doing okay, uh, so-" You cut off Andrew with a kiss to the lips. Honestly you've been waiting too long to do this.

He leans into the kiss, putting his hands on your hips and you rest your arms around his neck. The kiss is slow but passionate and secretly sends him over the edge with happiness.

He promised to protect you, and for the first time in your life, you know you can count on it.

note: No, I am not an Andrew fan. No, I do not know why I made this fic so long. Yes this does suck ass but you still read it so (THIS IS SO OOC IM SORRY) (This is so ass what the heck)

#⋆˚ 💗˖° HEAD OVER HEELS!#identity 5 #idv #idv andrew #idv grave keeper #identityv #fanfiction #fic #idv x reader #idv x you #identity v #begginer writer #2nd person pov #fanfic #grave keeper #grave keeper idv #andrew kreiss #identity v grave keeper

54 notes · View notes

moondal514 · 2 months

Text

now i'm third in the lineup (to your lord and your savior) (T), 2,516 words

Summary:

A Minyard’s love is a horribly selfish thing. Heavy and destructive. Fiercely protective and terrible. It doesn’t care that it stifles its treasures in its claws, suffocating them until there is nothing left.

You don’t want to love like a Minyard.

Aaron on brotherhood.

Read on ao3

My fic for @emmytriesfanfic for @aftg-mixtape

#hello and welcome to yet another 2nd person pov twinyard fic written for AFTG mixtape by yours truly #am I a one-trick pony or do I have a trademark™️?#you decide 😂#aftg #moonie writes #my fic

27 notes · View notes

yes-divine-ruler · 1 year

Text

Your First Time - Kit Walker

x fem!reader

requested <3

cw: loss of virginity, fingering, slight f oral, vaginal sex

word count: 1924

“So, how was your day beautiful?” Kit stabs his pasta with a fork, twirling it before bringing it to his mouth. You watch as his lips wrap around the fork and he begins to chew, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Your legs were crossed under the table, your chin rested on your hand supported by a bent elbow, just admiring your boyfriend. Everything he did seemed so sensual, but maybe that was because you were almost always envisioning him naked above you.

“Good babe, how was yours?”

“That’s all you got? Let me hear about your day, in detail,” Kit reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers across the table. He was always so inquisitive, his genuine curiosity quickening the pace of your heart.

“Okay well,” you shoot Kit a small smile, “I sat in the garden all day reading, and this book is so good Kit, I had my nose stuck in it while I laid outside and I didn’t even notice my shoulders got burnt by the sun,” it was Kit’s turn to admire you, he was so smitten, his eyes sparkled as he watched your face change with every piece of information you’d reveal to him.

“That sounds great sweetheart,” Kit gave your hand a quick squeeze, “can I get the bill please?”

Kit waves down a passing waitress, who curtly nods and disappears to retrieve the diner bill.

“Come back to my place?” Kit asks you hopefully, shooting you a small smile. You nod enthusiastically, happy that your date night ends at his house.

Kit pays for the bill, like he always did, and takes your hand to guide you to his car. He opens the passenger side door for you like a real gentleman, and you thank him before taking a seat.

You look down as Kit changes the gears as he drives, the muscles in his arms flexing with every movement, the veins in his hand prominent and protruding. You shifted in your seat, your gaze averting from his hand, trying to keep your composure.

Kit had been your boyfriend for almost 6 months, and there hasn’t been a single time he’d initiated going all the way with you. It upset you, but you knew it was probably because you were a virgin. He was so gentle, and considerate all the time, but all you wanted was for him to rip the clothes off your body and have his way with you.

Arriving at Kit’s house, he tells you to stay seated while he comes around to your door to open it.

“Come, doll face,” he takes your hand and helps you out of the car, shutting the door behind you. You lean up on your tiptoes and give Kit a quick kiss on the cheek in gratitude.

He guides you inside, shrugging his heavy winter coat off his shoulders and kicking off his boots. You follow, moving over to where his bed sat through double-doors into his bedroom. He lays down with a heavy, tired sigh, resting the back of his head in his hands and watching as you lay down next to him.

“How was dinner? Did you like your pasta?” Kit asks, playing with your hair as he looks down at you.

“It was really good Kit, thank you,” all you could look at were his soft, parted lips as he lit a cigarette between them.

“Was good wasn’t it? You’re so welcome,” his dimples dented his cheeks as he took a draw.

You couldn’t help it, your hand rested on his crotch as you maintained eye contact. He raised an eyebrow at you, creasing his forehead with wrinkles as you began to apply slight pressure.

“What do you think you’re doing suga’?” He leaned over to the ash tray on his nightstand and stubbed out his cigarette.

“It might be nice..” you began, sitting up to face him, “to end such a good night with a..” your hand continues to palm his growing erection, “little something extra?”

Kit lets out an almost inaudible groan, partly due to your hand on his bulge and partly due to his internal conflict.

“Baby..” he sighs as you begin to trail kisses up his jaw, stopping at his ear.

“I really want to… please?” You whisper in his ear, his grip on your hip tightening, his fingertips digging into your bare skin.

You kiss just under his ear, sucking on his sensitive skin, eliciting a soft moan.

“I jus’.. I don’t wanna hurt you baby,” Kit’s pretty lips curve into a frown as you straddle his lap, both his hands halting you before you can grind down on him.

You feel disappointed by his rejection, your eyes doe-like and glassy as they peered into his.

“But Kit, I’m ready,” you whine, managing to work up a small amount of friction between you.

“Come here,” he whispers, his hands cupping your face and bringing it down to his. He kisses your lips softly, and eventually, it turns more passionate. His tongue slides over your bottom lip, and opening your mouth, you let him enter. His tongue massages yours so sensually it has your hips buckling to gain more friction against him.

“I’m so ready,” you breathe out, as he switches your positions, slotting between your open legs. He had found it hard enough abstaining for this long, and he knew you’d wanted it just as bad; maybe it was time to overcome his irrational fears.

“Alright baby,” he confirms that he is ready too, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs from under your dress. You assist him in taking off your clothes, pulling the dress above your head and discarding it onto the floor.

Kit unbuttons his own shirt agonisingly slow, his bottom lip seductively wedged between his teeth. You can’t help but let out a breathy laugh, squirming from under him to try and spur him on. You’ve waited this long, what was another minute?

Now both bare, Kit sits back on his heels, admiring the heat between your legs as it glistened with your sweet arousal. You were already so turned on for him. He reached towards you with his forefinger, circling your entrance before bringing it up to your sensitive bundle of nerves. A gasp leaves your lips as he applies the perfect amount of pressure, the dampness of his finger making it undeniably more pleasurable for you.

“That feels so good,” you speak your mind, your head resting back against the pillow as he lets out a small chuckle.

“I wanna make sure you’re really ready for me,” he says softly, his finger abandoning your clit as it trails back down towards your entrance.

“One finger first,” he begins to push in his finger, your pussy welcoming it in pulsing waves.

“Fuck,” he mutters, delighting in the warmth of your heat, working his finger in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

Your hips buckle up, begging for more as your hands begin to knead at your own bare breasts. Soft subtle moans escape your parted lips as Kit introduces a second finger. He expertly curls them upwards, your body jerking in response, your eyes widening at the sudden rapturous wave.

“There is it,” he says with a chuckle, continuing to assault the same spot over and over, leaning down and connecting his lips to your engorged clit.

Your thighs begin to tremble as you feel the telltale tightness in your groin, letting out incoherent strings of curse words as you approach your orgasm.

“Kit- my god yes, I’m so close,” you utter, gazing at him as he looks up at you from under his dark, thick eyelashes.

His fingers pick up pace inside you, pushing in a third with ease, his lips tightly wrapped around your clit. He sucks on it, before he diverts to kitten licking it, and the changes in motion push you over the edge.

Kit groans as you clench around his fingers, your back arching as your body experiences the best orgasm it’s ever had.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he says, his fingers leaving you once again, positioning himself at your entrance. You weren’t fearful of how he might enter you, you knew he’d be gentle, but you were unsure of whether it would still hurt regardless.

Kit notices your uncertainty, and kisses your lips in reassurance.

“You let me know if you need me to stop okay? I’ll go so slow, I promise baby,” he coos, running his tip from your swollen clit to your entrance, pushing his tip inside.

Your eyes squeeze shut in preparation for the stretch, and when it happens, you find yourself whining in discomfort. Kit stops halfway, his eyes peering down at your screwed face in concern.

“You okay baby?” He asks, leaning down again to place a kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his lips to yours in another kiss. It was a good distraction, Kit managing to bottom out inside you in the process. The pressure between your walls builds, feeling foreign, and awkward, but not intolerable.

When you’ve felt like you’ve adjusted, you give Kit a quick nod, and he retracts his hips, before pushing them forward in a gentle thrust.

“You’re doing so good baby, it’ll feel good soon, I promise,” almost as if on on cue, the discomfort turns to bliss, and you’re in urgent need of more.

“Faster Kit,” you tell him, letting out a whimper as he begins to rut his hips a little faster. His cock is inside you so deeply, deliciously stretching out your walls with every thrust, you can’t help but moan. He sets a steady pace, his forehead beginning to form a thin sheen of perspiration. He looked so good above you with his face screwed in pleasure, low moans leaving his lips.

“So tight angel, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers tangle in his soft brown hair as his snapping hips make contact with yours, the sound of skin on skin and the soft music from the radio beside you filling the room.

“Yes Kit, just like that,” you egg on, letting the feeling of him inside you totally consume your senses.

It was everything you imagined, soft, sensual, perfect. He was so perfect.

“I’m gonna cum,” Kit announces, opening his eyes to look at your face, the beautiful face of his perfect girlfriend who was drunk on sexual gratification.

Kit’s cock twitched in accordance to the tightness in his groin, and he pulled out to stroke himself to completion. He let go of his load on the slick folds of your pussy, watching in titillation as it trickled down onto the sheets beneath you.

You giggle as he grabs his shirt from the floor to clean you, and settles down beside you, pulling you into his side. You felt empty now he was gone from inside you, but you were so glad it was finally done; there was no one else you’d rather share this moment with.

Kit kisses you just under your hairline, panting to try and even his laboured breathing.

“How are you?” He asks, combing his fingers through your hair.

“That was amazing Kit,” you say, the smile not leaving your face.

“For me too, I love you,” he says, capturing your lips in another kiss.

“I love you too.”

759 notes · View notes