#because that is PERMANENT what if its not perfect
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The Perfect Fit
Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!
Chapter 10
Chapter 9 linked here
Chapter 11 coming soon!
Levi Ackerman x female reader
Warnings: cussing, suggestive jokes
The first two weeks of Levi’s healing went okay, him finally being resigned to the fact that he needed to rest after breaking ribs. He threw himself into the mountains of paperwork that had piled up because, in his words, “I can’t sit around scratching my ass while everyone else works.” Meanwhile, you were busy suturing up all of the uniforms that got ruined from the last expedition. The confession you two shared nights ago stayed nestled in the back of your mind as you went through the motions of work. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest and your tongue was no longer heavy with feelings unspoken. Levi now knew how deeply you cared for him and, better yet, didn’t run from his emotions as they were conveyed in his own manner.
By week 4, Levi had enough of not doing physical work. His sour mood permeated every room he moped into, cadets practically tripping over their feet to stay out of his way and spare themselves from the venom waiting to spill from his mouth. His patience was thinner than usual and he found himself snapping at everything and everyone. Even you weren’t spared of his foulness.
“Look, Levi, I’m just trying to help,” you had said one morning after he had struggled bending over to tie his shoe. You’d leaned down to tie the laces but he swatted you away, scowling.
“I’m not a damn baby. Leave me alone and get back to work.”
You gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re my captain but you’re not gonna boss me around like that.”
That irritated him further. “Listen, Sergeant. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Am I clear?”
You narrowed your eyes. “All due respect, Captain, but you taking your anger out on people for something they didn’t do isn’t nice. It sucks getting hurt, trust me, I know, but it’s not permanent.”
Levi didn’t respond. You could tell he was seething and you weren’t sure if it was from your blatant lack of respect for his authority or because you were right. Probably a mix of both.
“What do you know about what I’m going through? All you do is sit in here all day sewing. I have an important job that I have to get back to. People are relying on me.”
Levi’s finger was pointed toward you accusingly and you wished you had enough courage to snap it off his hand.
“I thought we were past the petty insults, Levi. You don’t need to be a jerk to me because of your inner turmoil or whatever. You’re right, I don’t give my heart and life like the other Scouts do, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t know what it’s like to see comrades die and maybe feel like it’s my fault. But my job is important in its own way, too, and I know you know that.”
You could see that your words made an impact because Levi’s expression changed from one of dismay to something that leaned more toward despair. You were right, of course—Levi had gone too far. He had been ridiculously upset at his own shortcomings when he went to the dining hall and saw all of the missing faces from the last expedition. Every time a soldier dies, he feels like a piece of himself dies with them. Sure, it was their duty to give it all for the sake of others, and he has no regrets about any of the choices he makes as a leader, but that sure as hell didn’t make any of the losses hurt less. He internalized their deaths as his fuel to keep going. He needed to get back to training as quickly as possible so he could make sure there weren’t as many casualties the next mission and his injury was preventing him from doing so. Levi also couldn’t get the night from a few weeks ago out of his head. He knew it was the right thing to share with you how he felt about you, but he couldn’t help but think you’d change your mind about caring for him after seeing him so vulnerable and useless. He reverted into his old ways of pushing everyone away, but he should’ve known that you weren’t the type to give up easily, especially on people you cared about.
He couldn’t meet your gaze as he uttered a quiet apology: “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you should be. But thanks for acknowledging it. Anyway, drop the shitty attitude. We’re going for a walk.”
You proceeded to exit the room but Levi stood in his previous spot.
“Did you break your legs, too? I said c’mon.” You motioned for him to come with you and he finally obliged. The walk outside was quiet, both of you unsure if the other wanted to talk. Levi’s eyes adjusted to the bright sun that warmed his body as he realized he hadn’t been in the open air the entire time he’d been injured. That was probably another reason why he was so grumpy. You, of course, had assumed this and decided he needed some time to rest outside and get Vitamin D in his system.
“Where are you taking me, brat?” he asked, trying his best to be annoyed but not finding it within him.
You gave him a sly smile and put your finger over your lips. “It’s a secret. You trust me, don’t you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately. But if you’re taking me somewhere to put me down like a lame horse I ask you do it quickly.”
“Hey! Dead horse jokes hit a little too close to home still,” you said, playfully scoffing. “Besides, you won’t want to repeat that in front of our gracious hosts for the morning.”
He didn’t know what you meant until he realized you were at the stables.
“I checked with the doctor the other day and she said it was still too early for you to ride your horse but we can give these guys some snacks if you’re up for it.”
Levi usually hated coming to the stables since it was dirty and smelled nasty but he couldn’t deny how his heart raced at the idea that you went out of your way to do something to better his well-being, even after he treated you rudely. He didn’t answer you but found his way to his horse, the only black one in the Survey Corps. You took that as a sign he’d agreed with your suggestion and you internally high five’d yourself at making a good call. You left to find some fruits and vegetables for the animals. You were gone for a good 20 minutes, hoping Levi would enjoy his alone time. When you came back, you saw that you were right—the captain had his hand outstretched to his horse’s snout and was on the receiving end of unstoppable licks. He looked the most at ease than you had seen him in a while and the sight of him bonding with his horse melted your heart. You handed him a carrot to feed the steed but he refused.
“You should feed him. I know how lonely you are without your own horse and that could help.”
It was a short sentence but it hit your gut with a huge impact. Levi truly did care for you, even if he was bad at showing it sometimes. You appreciated the little gesture, putting the vegetable in your grasp and offering it to the hulking creature. He ate it gratefully and you found yourself snuggling into the horse as Levi’s hand stayed stroking its face.
“Horses are just so cute. I wanna give him a big smooch!” You leaned in and gave Levi’s horse a small peck, giggling at Levi’s shocked face.
“What? Are you jealous?” you asked.
“Tch. Are you stupid? That’s disgusting.”
“Me kissing the horse or the thought of me kissing you?”
Your teasing made the tips of his ears turn red as he huffed in annoyance.
“Use your brain and figure it out,” he grumbled, leaving to feed the other horses. Your laughter echoed throughout the stables, the horses stamping their feet and joining in the fun. After a few hours and the morning turned to afternoon, you could see that Levi was getting tired from his outing.
“I’m starving. Wanna grab some lunch?” you suggested as you heard Levi’s stomach grumble. When you walked into the dining hall, there was a commotion from your regular table.
“Oh hey, here comes the duo! We haven’t seen either of you around, we thought maybe you didn’t like us anymore,” Petra said, wearing a fake frown.
Oluo chimed in. “They’re together all the time now, so if they don’t like us, at least we know they like each other!”
A round of flirtatious sounding “ooh’s” were chorused and you saw Levi give him a death glare.
“You’re not familiar with that feeling, are you, Oluo?”
The whole table burst out in uncontrollable laughter as Oluo pouted and it was like old times again. You and Levi put down your filled trays and began to eat, listening to the funny stories being swapped by your friends. As you took a bite of bread, you felt some of your hair getting pulled and saw Levi plucking something out of it.
“You have hay in your hair, idiot.” He placed the stray piece on the side of his tray to dispose of later and you went back to eating. Little did you know, the whole table was trying to hide their shock at the loving gesture their captain brazenly displayed.
“Really? Right in front of my soup?” Gunther groaned while Petra punched him in the arm to be quiet. When the meal was finished, Levi took his leave while you stayed behind to catch up with your friends.
“So, hay in your hair, huh? Did you and the captain go for a romp in the stables?” snickered Oluo and you choked on your drink.
“Wha-what? Don’t be crass. I don’t know why you would think that,” you said, embarrassment creeping up your body. You were fine getting teased about anything other than your love life, or lack thereof. That topic flustered you to no end and Squad Levi picked up on that, fast.
“Hmm? So you didn’t ride the famed black stallion?” Eld smirked. You wanted to die then and there.
“Guys, stop. I didn’t-W-we don’t… that’s gross. We’re not like that. We’re just good friends, that’s all.” Your stammering spurred on more hoots and hollers as they ignored the substance of your words. Your chair scraped the floor as you stood and slammed your hands down on the table.
“Please knock it off!”
The whole dining hall went silent. You hadn’t meant to be that loud but you caught the attention of everyone in the room. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes, surprised at your outburst.
“We were just having fun, y/n, we didn’t mean to make you upset,” said Petra.
“We go too far sometimes. Sorry,” replied Gunther. The other guys nodded solemnly. You sat back down and put your head in your hands.
“Sorry guys. It’s not you… well, okay, it was you a little bit, but I’ve just had a day.”
“We’ve all been there, kid. Don’t worry about it.” Oluo placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
“Besides, there’s no one else we’d rather see our beloved captain with!”
“Petra!” you whined, seeing her smile, “we’re not together. I promise you that much.”
The group exchanged glances.
“Are you sure?” asked Gunther, “because I’ve never seen Levi be so gentle with anyone before.”
“Yeah,” Eld added, “you fooled us. I would’ve guessed you two were married by the way he acts around you.”
Their words were comforting. The connection you and Levi shared was something unseen before by any of his closest comrades which brought you a sense of peace that this really was something special.
“All I know is that Levi and I have a profound sense of trust in each other. I’m not sure how to describe it any better than that but I hope it’s enough for you guys to understand what I mean.”
Apparently it was a good enough description for your friends because they finally left you alone about it, opting instead to talk about a poor cadet who was left hanging upside down by their ODM gear for an hour during training. You kindly excused yourself from the conversation to clear your tray and head back to work. You felt a long arm wrap around your shoulders before you could leave the dining hall and you were met with Hange’s face millimeters from your own.
“Hay in your hair, huh?” They gasped before breaking out into a giddy smile. “Did you and Levi finally bang?!”
Only a few minutes after Levi entered his office, his door flew open, swinging wildly on its hinges, and there you stood, huffing angrily.
“I have to get out of this place for a few days. You up for that trip to the interior?”
Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent @raginginferno267 @come-away-with-me87
#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x female reader#levi fluff#levi angst#levi aot#levi ackerman x reader angst#levi ackerman x reader fluff#captain levi
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have been pretty art blocked since finishing the big dnd piece so i have no new art to offer and likely won't for a while but have some silly sketches i did of some bears while designing some potential future tattoos for myself :)
(and yes, these bears are all also potential future tattoos 💕)
#my art#sketch#I LOVE BEARSSSSS#thinking about doing a full like half leg sleeve dedicated to silly bears#i have lots and lots of tattoo ideas but am very reluctant to start getting tatted lmao#because that is PERMANENT what if its not perfect#also very very expensive LMAO#but i could never regret getting some bears on me :)
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person: *shows even the slightest hint of interest in music that I enjoy*
me: ah yes a new victim muhahahaha
#this is what listening to the wonder years will do to your personality#it's fun because it's so easy to steer the conversation into that direction#mention hobbies then music then ppl wanna hear it bc they haven't heard of it#then they express even the slightest bit of positive feeling for the music#and it's done#you have been caught in my trap#you will never find peace from me mentioning them every single time i see you for the rest of your life#i can't even think about the lyrics too hard because then I'll start infodumpjng to myself in my head#and then whoops it's been hours and I've just been hyping myself up thinking about how good the music is#i already know this information. i know it's good. i still need to scream ITS SO FUCKING GOOD THO in my head every so often lest i go insane#i haven't generated this much dopamine since I was in middle school and foaming at the mouth over fandoms#anyway if you're wondering what sparked this it's bc i made the mistake of listening to hum again this morning#then you're listening to wyatts song and thinking of screen door and whoops time to go listen to greatest generation in full again i guess#and do not even get me started on cardinals ii#you go from brothers & right into cardinals so it flows perfectly and then into cardinals ii and that is the peak of human emotion#i meed them to play all three in a row live and i need it to be recorded so i can listen to it even though the pure bliss may kill me#it just hits different when it's live bc in the studio version the drums stop when going from brothers & into cardinals#but the drums keep fucking going in the live versions there's an actual climactic peak where it fades right into the next and it is perfect#and they have live recordings going from brothers & to cardinals and cardinals to cardinals ii#but afaik they haven't played all three in a row yet. mayhaps next year......#though experiencing that live would probably permanently alter my brain#yes i am aware that i am very insane about them i cannot stop it and it is incurable#actually literally better than drugs imo#anyway look at me getting sidetracked on what was supposed to be a short tumblr break between studying for exams#i probably shouldn't listen to twy when im trying to focus on something else lol#you get into music bc it's the only hobby where you can enjoy it without dedicating extra time to it#and then it ends up taking over your thoughts and time way more than just doing regular people hobbies would have done#music#mine
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good morning ࿏ wm
summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.
words: 3.9k
warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me
this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.
masterlist.
The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.
Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.
The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.
Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.
The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.
It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.
Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.
And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.
And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.
But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.
Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.
Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.
You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.
It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.
It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.
So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.
The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.
Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.
Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.
Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.
There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.
Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.
She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.
Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.
Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.
Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.
“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.
As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.
Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.
It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.
There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.
“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.
Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.
The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.
A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.
Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.
Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.
You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.
Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.
“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.
“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.
You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.
“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.
Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”
Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.
You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.
“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.
“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”
Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.
“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”
Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”
Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”
“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.
“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”
Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.
The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.
After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.
“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.
Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”
Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#scarlet witch x reader#marvel#lgbt#lesbian#top!wanda#power bottom#subby top wanda#sub top wanda#elizabeth olsen#lizzie olsen#wanda maximoff x f!reader
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Just finished Good Omens 2 and I'm honestly boggling at the Aziraphale hate because yes, his decision led to the angsty cliffhanger, but it makes SO much sense for his character. Not just in a "Religious brainwashing and sunk-cost fallacy" kinda way but also a "Aziraphale has no reason to believe this isn't the perfect solution" way. That scene among the nebula is crucial because it establishes that Crowley loved being an angel—reveled in his ability to create and allow his creations to grow kinda like plants—and the only problem was that someone else was calling the shots, someone who wouldn't listen to his criticism. Aziraphale has also spent 6,000+ years watching Crowley do good, all the while forced to deny the fact that he's "nice" lest embracing his original nature get him into trouble with hell. Now, Metatron comes along with an offer that fixes everything in one fell swoop. Crowley can be an angel again, be nice without censure, his ideas and criticisms will hold weight because he'll be answering to Aziraphale, and they'll be together.
It strikes me that Aziraphale isn't there when Crowley sees Gabriel's trial, ergo he likewise doesn't see the (non)acknowledgement that there's an institutional problem up in Heaven. There just happen to have been two archangels who called it quits. Same when Gabriel blurts that phrase out to Crowley. Aziraphale has always been more blind to the ways in which Heaven is "toxic" (for very understandable reasons) and this season he's continually sheltered from new evidence of its structural problems. The plot just preaches to the choir: Crowley. He likewise wouldn't see the conflict Gabriel and Beelzebub have caused as evidence of an underlying problem because that's a problem he and Crowley will no longer share. Why would they be worried about Heaven still being unable to accept partnerships between angels and demons when Crowley will no longer be a demon? And that's something he presumably wants based on Aziraphale's memories of him and the ongoing admission that he's lonely.
The way I see it, they got what they thought they wanted at the start of Season 2. Heaven and Hell are keeping an eye on them, but functionally they're left alone. Crowley can spend all the time he wants with Aziraphale and nothing comes of that except that they're both continually named traitors and the higher-ups grumble about it. If Gabriel had never shown up, things should have been perfect based on Crowley's "Let's just run away and have each other's company" standards. Better, even, considering that they get to be together on their beloved Earth, rather than being bored out in Alpha Centauri without any sushi, plants, books, or Bentleys. And yet... Crowley doesn't strike me as particularly happy. Because, you know, based on that kiss he wants to be with Aziraphale, not just literally be with him, but the point of this post is that his "Let's run away and be an 'us'" falls totally flat when he doesn't explain that specific desire to Aziraphale; the desire to change what an 'us' means. From Aziraphale's perspective they're already an 'us.' That was the entire point of "our side" in Season 1 and now they can continue to be 'us' up in Heaven. Plus, Aziraphale likely sees this as a sacrifice on his part. He will give up his bookshop, his Earthly indulgences, take on the responsibilities of leadership (which I don't think he actually wants for a variety of reasons), and spend the rest of eternity in a place where he's felt so small because he thinks that's what Crowley wants. Crowley was happy as an angel. Crowley wanted them to be together without risk of permanent discorporation. They were able to achieve that after not-Armageddon and he still wasn't happy... so surely those two things together will do the trick. Crowley never actually articulates how he wants their relationship to change and the kiss comes much too late, when he's already rejected what Aziraphale must see as a perfect, selfless solution he's secured for them. Even if Crowley wasn't always moving too fast for him, an overture of romance isn't going to go well after that.
Is this crushing and angsty and devastating as a hiatus? Damn straight, my heart it breaking. But it's a good setup. More importantly, it makes perfect sense for their characters, particularly when they're still talking past one another. Aziraphale is someone who has always moved more slowly as a matter of course, as an angel he has remained immersed in the rhetoric of Heaven, his main avenue of breaking free of that (Crowley) has a huge communication problem (to say nothing of his own denial. He only made headway with the help of Nina and Maggie, seconds before Aziraphale shows up), and Metatron (in a no doubt incredibly manipulative manner) has just offered Aziraphale a job that presumably makes him happy AND Crowley happy AND allows him to maintain the moral this-is-how-the-universe-works perspective he's had since he was literally created. Of course he's going to say yes to all that!! And sure, there are problems in Heaven, Aziraphale isn't completely blind, but he can fix them now that he's in charge. How? Well... he'll figure that out later! Kinda like how he's been making plans on the fly this entire season. That seems logical from his perspective, right? It's not like he's gotten a crash-course in the concept of the master's tools never being able to dismantle the master's house...
#Good Omens#Good Omens spoilers#Good Omens 2#Good Omens 2 spoilers#GO2#GO2 spoilers#mymetas#this is so rough and I'll probably write better metas later#but I just have FEELINGS RIGHT NOW OKAY
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It’s hard being an anarchist because business women are soooo hot. Imagine a cyberpunk ceo lady getting you on some minor crimes, maybe you fell into a hacking league, normally you’d get off with some community service and the corpos eye on you for the rest of your life, but when she sees the camera footage of you all scared and trembling in the police station, cuffed to the bars and trying to look as small as possible she just can’t help it, a few “donations” to the station gets you marked as a dangerous cyber terrorist, your identity blasted on every news network she can so Everyone knows who you are. The public quietly cheers as it’s announced that you’ve been permanently moved to an offshore maximum security facility, none the wiser that really you’re just an idiot at the worst place and time, unaware that really you were shipped to her personal compound for modification. Waking up with new limbs and eyes and ears under her control as she explains in no uncertain terms that this is your life now. Even if you escaped, regained control of your cybernetics and got outside, everyone knows you as a dangerous person, no one would shelter a danger to society like you. So really it’s for the best that you stay here, stay as her pet forever.
Forcing your limbs to stand up, body aching from the countless surgeries she’s had you go through in a short time to make you a perfect toy, marching you to her office to sit under her desk and service her as your first day in the rest of your existence. Unbeknownst to you adjusting the settings in your shiny new brain chip to flood your body with endorphins and lust, mocking you constantly for how wet you’ve gotten from her fucking you and abusing you, until eventually you won’t even know what’s her influence and what’s your own broken brain ❤️ you know, or something
Or hey maybe she just takes your body. Leaves your mind in the background to scream and silently beg as your body is puppeted around as her secretary and fuckdoll for the rest of your life. If you’re good she’ll give you vocal control back for a few minutes so you can beg for death or mercy or oblivion or anything as she fucks deeper into you. She doesn’t care about your opinion at all, but the wails of a toy that’s losing its sanity always gets her right to that edge, panting as she goes deeper, each scream of humiliation from your raw throat pushing her to the edge until finally she cums inside, giving you just enough time to understand what she’s done and scream in misery and humiliation before she shuts off your voice again <3
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jk releasing 3d on my birthday has been the greatest bday gift ever. ITS BEEN ON REPLAY NONSTOP 😋😋😋😋😋😋🤞🤞
what do you think oc’s thoughts and reactions were when they first listened to it??😭😭😭i need to know, art
summary: in which jungkook is crazy about you, and he sings songs about it.
> idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive / word count: 0.5k
> content/warnings: allusions to phone s*x and well… s*x, finally found the perfect time for oc piercing reveal :P
> in which masterlist!
note: BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LINA BELOVED 💕💕💕you’re a source of light in my life and i’m so grateful for your existence <3 i hope all your wishes come true <333 lol surprise. i got bored this morning so here’s a baby drabble for u 🫶🏼 (i did say i’m taking a break from writing in oct and it’s sept 30 today so…)
—
jungkook pauses 3D at the 3:20 mark before the song can start playing again on loop, and then he looks at you with an excited grin painted on his face.
“so, what do you think?!”
you remain quiet under the weight of his tattooed arm swung around your shoulders, fiddling with his fingers as you always do when you can’t seem to sit still. it’s a contrast to the wide-eyed gasps and bright giggles elicited from you when his sultry singing voice filled all the empty corners of your shared apartment.
“mhmm…? why is my baby quiet all of a sudden?” he chuckles, nose nudging your cheek before he plants a kiss on the soft flesh.
“you were thinking of me?”
your eyes finally meet, and the curious sparkle he sees in yours makes his heart uncontrollably race inside his ribcage.
damn, he’s whipped.
“uh-uh. are you serious?”
you feign innocence, eyes going wider, surprised at his reaction.
“oh, don’t act all cute!” he exclaims, leaning back to watch an amused smile gradually form on your lips. “who else calls me in the middle of rehearsals and whines because they’re feeling needy? at three in the morning! three! huh? tell me!”
“oh my god, shut up! when will you stop bringing that up?!” you lightly punch his thigh, ashamed of your shamelessness when your yearning for your boyfriend reaches an all-time high. now that you’re being spoiled rotten with physical affection, you can no longer fathom how you used to survive it before, being distant from him for months on end. “that’s more you!”
he blinks at you, contemplating for a moment as he combs through his collection of hazy memories. “you mean, during rehearsals or at three in the morning?”
you only raise an eyebrow in response, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he bursts into a fit of giggles. uh-oh, this is what you must look like when you scold him for being frisky over the phone while you’re out in public, forcing you to bring the brightness of your phone all the way down or to hastily plug in your earphones.
the truth is he wants to kiss you more when you get a little mean, though he refuses to say it out loud because he knows that you won’t ever stop using it against him the same way you purposely wear red when you want to test his self-control.
“alright, so i’m crazy about you, and i even sing songs about it. sue me!”
you intertwine your fingers together, concealing a smile by planting a chaste kiss on the purple heart permanently inked on the back of his hand. “i’d rather touch you.”
at that, his hooded gaze travels down south where your crop top couldn’t reach, watching your stomach unsteadily rise and fall, and the butterfly-shaped jewelry that pierces your belly button seems to flutter its wings with every breath you take.
his teeth tugs at his bottom lip before his tongue sweeps over it, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“would you mind if i touch you first?”
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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
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#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook one shot#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#bts fluff#bts reaction#jungkook angst#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic
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more silent love:
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: fluff || non-idol au
summary: jungkook’s book of silent love
tags/ warnings: more fluff, they’re in love it’s kinda sickening, more silent ways to say i love you. i am once again sleepy and thinking of the cute kinda love
notes: part two of this fic, but can be read as a standalone :D
where you can find all my other work!!
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.
The list of silent love is a forever growing one.
A small notebook sits on the kitchen table, one you had never bothered to pick up. Though Jungkook likes to spend quiet evenings alone, handwriting far from legible as he scribbles down each of these precious moments.
Memories set in stone as the ink seeps into flimsy paper; perfect, beautiful, love tucked between pages like his own little secret.
As of late, the both of you spend Sunday afternoons learning how to bake bread. A new type of loaf every week, flour clinging to clothes and smiles tugging at both your lips. It had become your own personal mission to never buy bread again, taking hours out the afternoon, simply basking in the company of one another as you learn something new.
He finds himself associating the smell of fresh bread to you. Quirk of a smile tugging at his cheeks as he walks past bakeries, fleeting memory of you in the forefront of his mind. A permanent home you've burrowed.
Jungkook, of course, likes to make you sandwiches with your homemade bread. Some mornings waking up, quietly slipping out of bed before you wake to pack you lunch, sweet little note slipped into your bag before he hears your footsteps patter out the bedroom, sluggish as you wake up.
And on those mornings your patience wears a little too thin, the world a little too much for you to take so early in the day; Jungkook will make sure to sit you down in front of the vanity. Where he detangles your hair ever so gently. Careful as he helps you put your earrings in– he’d gotten quite good over time, learning how to match your jewellery to what you were wearing. Observant in all your favorite pieces that he knew he could never go wrong with.
Every night as he showers, you sit yourself up on the kitchen counter, reaching for Jungkook’s favorite herbal teas. And every night, as he dries his hair, slinking into the kitchen, there will always be a tea there waiting for him.
He wonders how you’d learnt to time it perfectly. Knowing when to pour the hot water with just enough time before he gets out of the shower where the temperature is perfect. So he can easily slip under a blanket with you, your cold feet warmed up between his thighs as he sips sleepy tea and you doze off beside him.
He’d learnt you loved when he made you heart-shaped pancakes. And as much as he always eyes the cute little pancake pans online, there will always be something slightly more rewarding about his own hand-crafted hearts that have you giggling into his mouth– lips syrup sticky and sweet. That slight effort more just to see you smile forever lighting up his life.
He likes to watch you smile as you re-read your favourite books. Where he’d taken time out of his lunch breaks to respond to all the annotations you’d made on your first read through.
He’d glance up at you from his phone as the pen glides across the page, your own mind conjuring up replies to his questions and comments. Like that in itself was its own love language. Silent words slipped between pages of stories that aren't your own, words that only the two of you will ever see. A glimpse into your mind and in return a peek into his.
Every time he is the cause of your smile, his chest goes warm and his heart feels fluttery and light. So gooey warm and raw and lovely and so many words, so many thoughts and feelings all at once he will never be able to truly explain it in words. And maybe that’s why he likes to write down all the precious moments you share. Because that is love. The epitome of love in every sense of the word and it's meaning and yet, it's more than that.
It is your shared love in words without fancy vocabulary and poems and unheard confessions of adoration that will never leave the corners of his mind. Simply unreadable gibberish to hold each of these moments in time, cradled against his beating heart, so that even when the both of you leave this world, part of your love will live forever between the pages of that book.
Because that's what your love is. An eternal thing that will dance between the stars after death and kiss the both of you in your graves as you blossom into new life. Sure to meet one another again no matter where you end up.
You are Jungkook's forever, even if that means he has to scour the earth to find that little notebook, to relive those memories and learn to love you the right way again.
#bts fanfic#bts fluff#jungkook#bts x reader#bts#jjk#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook fic#jungkook fic#bts non idol au#jungkook fluff
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Hi babe! Not sure how you feel about writing ab parents so feel free to ignore, but had an idea for kbd au if Steve’s parents tried to contact him/get into their lives and he’s all like stay away from my kids
kisses before dinner —steve has a tense relationship with his parents. mom!reader, 1.5k
The girls haven't seen their grandparents for… a while.
Steve's dad always has something to say about his life. How he's thrown everything away being a stay at home dad, or how idiotic it was to stay with you. The latter was enough for Steve to want to cut contact initially, but you convinced him not to do it on your behalf.
Steve, pretty much everyone we knew thought I was baby trapping you, you'd said.
Well, he'd said, attempting to lighten the mood, little do they know I baby trapped you.
Damn. Wanna do it again?
So it was funny. His parents didn't like you but they hardly liked him, he didn't mind —he was so fucking angry because who the fuck did they think they were, how could they look at you and not love you, you, in what world was it possible?— and he put up with their passive aggressive Christmas cards and their sparing visits, but then his mom took it too far.
He can remember it word for word. “Beth, honey,” his mom had said, her nose stuck in its permanent wrinkle, “why are you eating it like that? What do your friends at school think?”
“Mom, don't,” Steve had butt in. Beth didn't even go to school at that point.
“She's such a weird kid,” she said, shaking her head.
Some could argue it was fond or that she didn't mean anything by it, Bethie is very unique sometimes, but Beth turned her face to her dad with crestfallen eyes, as heartbroken as Steve had ever seen her before, and asked, “I'm weird?”
Steve doesn't remember the last time he spoke to his mom. A year ago at least.
He does miss her. But he doesn't really know her, never has, and he'd choose Beth over her without a thought. It would take a hundredth of a millisecond to decide.
That's why seeing her is a shock. He's going to see her, they live in the same town —you bumped into her a few weeks ago and had to give her the rundown. Everyone's okay. Yeah, we had another baby, she's doing great.
Steve had blown up at her. The girls had never seen him that angry in their lives and they haven't seen it since, and the gap is impassable.
Or so he thinks.
“Steve!” He tenses up. “Steve, honey!”
He can't decide what to do. He can't exactly run away; Bethie and Dove sit knee to knee in the shopping cart, Avery has her hand in his pocket, and Wren is strapped to his chest. Running would leave at least one girl behind, and where would he go? The frozen food aisle?
“Oh, it's grandma,” Avery says. “She looks… old.”
“She is old,” he says, turning reluctantly on the spot to watch his mother rush past a stack of cans of carrots. “She's ancient.”
“Steve, baby.” His mom stops in front of him, more flustered than he knew she could get back, struggling to maintain a sense of casualness. “How are you? Girls? It's been so long.”
Steve doesn't have an inkling of an idea of what to say. He's not mad anymore, but he knows she'll never change, and he knows that your family is a hundred times happier without worrying what grandma and grandpa think of you. “We're perfect,” he says.
“And this is baby Wren?”
Steve grimaces. “Yeah, this is Wren.”
She's only three months old but she has a good weight to her, and she's brilliantly healthy. She blinks at the woman in front of her without recognition, her dark lashes a thick hedging. She's a beautiful baby.
“She looks like you again, Steve.”
“Yeah, my girl's good at having babies, but she hasn't mastered the mixing process,” he jokes without thinking. Love for you falls off the tongue.
His mother has the sense to make herself laugh. “Where is Y/N?” she asks.
“Mom went back to get milk!” Avery says.
“Yeah? And how are you, sweetie?”
Steve clears his throat. He understands what she's trying to do, but he remembers Beth's crushed face and he can't abide this shit again. I believed you when you said I wasn't good enough, he'd said, he'd shouted, his voice hoarse with it as you’d wrapped a hand around his wrist arm, but I will not let you do it to them. It's not happening, mom, I won't let it. You don’t get to say that to her.
“Steven…”
“Mom, we have to get going.”
“I said I was sorry,” she says.
“But you weren't.”
“Steve–” She doesn't look a thing like her son beside the similar way they begin to cry, that frown, “Please, I know I'm not perfect, we don't have to pretend I've– I'll hold my tongue. I just want to see my grandkids. I've never even held her.”
Steve covers the back of Wren's head with his hand, her baby hair soft as down. The girls are being remarkably quiet, beside Dove, who's whispering, “Who is that?” to Bethie in her clumsy toddler drawl.
“That's gran'ma,” she whispers back.
Steve's mom is, at the end of the day, their grandma. And she sucks and she doesn't deserve anymore chances, and the girls are better off without her for the majority, but…
Steve screws his eyes shut. Don't make me regret this, he thinks.
“I just want to speak to them,” she says.
“Alright,” he says quietly, covering Wren's ear. “Alright, mom, fine, but this is it. This is your chance. If you ever upset or insult one of my kids again, we're done. We will never, ever speak again. You won't see them, and you won't see me. I'm serious.”
“I'm sorry,” she says again.
“Fine.” He pulls the strap off of Wren's harness and shushes her gently as she protests, lifting her out of his arms into his mom's. She doesn't have time to decide if she's ready. This is how it's going to be. “Her head.”
“I know how to hold a baby,” she says.
You come around the aisle slowly, a little wince to your step, some residual tightness in your hips as you recover postpartum, but the frown you wear slips into surprise. “Terri?”
You save Steve and take the reins, suffering a conversation on your pregnancy, birth, and Wren's first weeks of life as Steve takes a breath. His heart races, adrenaline and a sticky, icky feeling in his chest as he watches his mom. He doesn't know if he's doing the right thing. His arms ache to steal Wren back.
It ends in an invitation for dinner. Whenever you're free, whatever you want, Steve's mom offers.
He's glad to see the back of her.
You put the milk carton in the cart and touch his elbow. “You okay?” He hums. Your hand moves up to his face, cupping his cheek. “She makes you so mad, babe. Do you need a second?”
“I think I'm pissed because…” He glances down at Wren, who's happier now she's in familiar hands. “I didn't realise she was a shitty mom. I knew we didn't get along, the same with my dad, but I didn't know…” He sighs.
“It's okay,” you say, giving him a gentle squeeze before Dove demands you pick her up. You do it unthinkingly, and that's why he's mad.
“I know what a good mother looks like,” he says. “I know how hard it is. And I know she didn't even try.”
You're all sympathy, looking like you wanna wrap him up in a cuddle in the middle of the grocery store. “You deserved better. It makes me angry too.”
“Are we going to dinner?” Beth asks.
“What, with grandma?” Avery asks.
“Not right now,” Steve says.
“Good,” Dove says decidedly, wrapping her arms around your neck to hug you, squishing your cheeks together. “Cocoa?”
“Cocoa? You want hot cocoa?” you ask, pleased.
It breaks his heart thinking about himself as a kid. He knows there weren't any moments like this, no soft touches or sweet treats that weren't begged for. You don't even think about saying no.
“And marshmallows,” you croon, rubbing the little space between her shoulders. “And we'll have to get a cinnamon roll too, for your sister. How does that sound, Beth?”
Beth doesn't like hot cocoa but she loves cinnamon rolls these days, and she nods her head exuberantly. As quick as that, the girls forget their grandma's interruption, and Steve tries his best to put it out of his mind. Family is messy, and it's harder now he has to make decisions for all of them, but he has you. His support beam, his sweetheart, you put Dove on your hip and sew your arm loosely through his. Tonight he'll talk your ear off about things you know already. You'll listen without complaint, stroking his hair back from his forehead if you have a free hand. His family growing up wasn't worth calling a family half the time, just three people connected by blood and a shared house, but the family he has today takes the cake. There's no competition.
#kisses before dinner universe#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#dad!steve harrington#dad!steve harrington x reader#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader#steve harrington x afab!reader#afab!reader#mom!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fluff
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It's 1am and i'm here thinking how messed up fnaf 3 really is
Here's what I mean: fnaf 1 does an incredible job at being eerie on the outside and traggic on the inside. It's the perfect ammount of it
Then there's fnaf 2 with its chaotic and overwhelming nature. There are just too many of them to handle at some point, which works incredibly well to make you feel tense and alert.
Then there's fnaf 3, with its silent first night. In a sense, fnaf 3 is infuriating because "these haunted animatronics keep coming back". The never-ending cycle. Kinda makes you feel a certain degree of impatience and annoyance. It makes you underestimate the situation.
But it stops being infuriating after you realize what — or who — you're actually dealing with. It becomes hopeless. It refuses to die. It refuses to die. It keeps refusing to die. It won't stop. It can't be defeated.
It stares at you, amused by your frustration. It's moving around, taunting you, laughing at your ugly face. It mocks you, infuriating you further, so much it's starting to become depressing. It purposely hides in the shadows, away from the cameras, whilist striving to have its presence noticed. What's wrong with it?
---
Springtrap (the character apart from William Afton) is terrifying, but not because of his jumpscare or because he was actually the murder this whole time. He's like a symbol of said hopelessness and dread. He moves around like HE is the trophy. He got exactly what he wanted, whether it was to be achieve literal immortality, or to become this lurking, dreadful memory permanently engraved in people's minds. He is the Yellow Rabbit, standing above it all. He was remembered — his victims were not.
And you're just another one added to the pile.
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For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter II
“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Songs of Solomon 8:6-7.
As newly appointed Duchess-To-Be, you have much to learn. Etiquette, conduct and eventual motherhood are the pillars you are expected to live by. Because who cares about your choosing?
The Chapel, tended to by a mercurial Priest, is the perfect refuge.
…right?
Pairing: Geto x female reader
A/N: The is dedicated to the artist ( @captainsalsaa ) I mean look at our fallen Angel. His tears. His frustration. Dear GOD.
To the artist: I stared at your piece, then heard a specific song on my writing playlist then wrote the entire last scene in one sitting. To date, it’s my favorite scene in my author’s portfolio. I hope I did our fallen Angel justice. Thank you for creating this 🤍
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CHAPTER II: Hello, Father.
“Awake early, little dove.”
Warm hands caress your shoulders. A welcome contrast to the chilly nautical dawn. The sun still has a ways to go, but songbirds have begun their wake up call.
“As are you, Arella.”
Your eyes float to your favorite maiden standing above you. No more than a handful of years older, but with a heart for you as if she raised you from birth.
“It’s my duty to tend to you, is it not?”
Soft laughter harmonizes with the nightingales. A quick kiss on your forehead before her warmth disappears off the balcony — undoubtedly to go retrieve a treat of some kind.
She’s not wrong.
Technically it is her duty.
But Arella is your blessing.
Matting and kneading your surroundings to fit your needs. Eager to dampen the growing pains of settling in a new home.
Constant hellos.
Permanent smiles.
Not too wide, like a promiscuous woman. But not too tight, like a cold prude.
Rooms to tour. Hands to shake. Garments to pin and tie and lace around your lungs as if your God-given ribcage was a frivolous extra not needed for life. Not needed to breathe.
Breathe.
Your lids screw shut. Pulling in as much of the balmy, saltwater breeze gliding up the steep rock face along the overhang.
Much like he did.
The Chaplain.
His hair cascading down his back in the same way poets monologue when inspired. His eyes a mural of what the Gods paint when they want to show off.
The way earth acquiesces to his touch as if he is the Creator. The birds choose to perform for him every morning. And the ocean exists to bathe him.
You cannot decide if the sorbet sunsets are created by the Chaplain. Or if the Gods fight over who gets the honor of painting him a new one each evening.
“Sleep still escapes you, precious girl.”
It does, but not for the reason she thinks.
“You worry too much, Arella. I’ll adjust soon.” The tea she brought you is delicious.
The both of you cross back into your quarters. The stagnant, perfumed air suddenly suffocating.
“I would like to go to the chapel garden.”
A quiet declaration that stills your handmaiden in her tracks. Then a small grin blossoms on her beautiful face. Fussing with your bedding. Wiping away evidence of your sleepless night.
“For the flowers that bloom, little dove? Or for the God that tends to them?”
The blood in your veins runs subzero.
“Arella! I am engaged to be marri—“
“Of course you are. But eyesight isn’t a sin.”
Another moment of feigned irritation before you burst into a fit of childish giggles. The both of you no better than school girls, covering your mouths, stifling your laughter.
“I just wanted to see you smile.” Arella gestures to your extravagant dresser across the room.
“In the second drawer you can find a casual garment. Come back with at least one hour to prepare for Mass.”
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·
A hummingbird chaperones your walk to the church estate. Dulcet hums drown out the rattling heartbeat between your ears.
This is harmless.
It is not a sin to take in Earth’s natural candy. To appreciate God’s gift to humanity.
In all of his majestic glory.
Your eyes dart around as if your thoughts are a tangible scroll. Written in ink for the world to see.
Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no one around.
Just you. Your fluttering companions (both heart and bird). The waking sun. God above and his plants swaying in the gentle gusts of wind. You’re safe in your mind.
Until he decimates all logical and reasonable train of thought, that is.
You should be angry. Infuriated. That no one adequately prepared you for seeing the demigod for the first time. Even now, you question whether he’s flesh and blood.
Maybe an illusion?
The Lord playing tricks from his throne?
The mirage before you halts your paces. You can’t help but question your level consciousness.
Because this must be a dream.
“Oh, don’t be cruel.”
Words slip out of your mouth, currently ajar. It’s not your place to chastise the One above, but come on.
Your eyes taste the Chaplain for a second time and this course is even more decadent than the first.
There he stands.
A raven waterfall down his broad, muscular back. Half of it tied away from his face. Olive skin so rich the surrounding plants pale in comparison. Russet brown working pants hang loose around his tapered waist, but snug around his thighs. Various tools hooked in the belt loops. Heavy mahogany work boots match the worn leather gardening gloves fitted to his hands.
His hands.
Reaching for thorny vines plaguing his hydrangeas. Even at your distance you could detail each muscle fiber in his arm tense and release with every pull and toss.
Pull and toss.
Pull and toss.
You would have gotten lost in his rhythmic trance, if it weren’t for the symbol branded in charcoal sprawling his back. The emblem peeks through his thick hair, every now and again.
A spear?
No.
A trident. With waves snaking up its stalk along his spine.
His gravitational pull is overwhelming. Your feet move with more stealth than the King’s Guard.
“Working on the Day of Rest, Father?” Casual, measured.
“Duchess,” Saliva pools in your mouth. His smile teases your ears before he graces you with it.
“I have to start being more careful about my clothing.” A playful glint in his eyes.
“Especially now that I’ve been blessed with a fellow greenskeeper.”
He is a man of God.
And would never insinuate anything impure.
But that doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around his words steeped in a baritone potent enough to rumble the ground beneath you.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent word that I was coming.”
“This palace belongs to you, Duchess. You are welcome here at any hour.” His hand captures a vine and tosses it into the pile without his eyes ever leaving yours.
You are weak.
And greedy.
The way your gaze drops to his arm. Desperately etching its contours into memory. Seconds, maybe minutes pass before you realize you were gawking. And the Chaplain just let you.
Head cocked to the side. Soft smile ghosting his full lips.
“Would you like to finish the tour of your new playground?”
“Y-yes. Of course, please.” Stumbling over the uneven cobblestone in your voice, you turn away to begin the coordinated stroll. The Priest slides his arms into a linen button up. Lazily fastening two center buttons only.
He informs you of the work that has already been done, what’s left. Where the soil is richest, where it is the most acidic. How the sun hits certain flowers at each hour of the day.
Brilliant.
With complete command over God’s bouquet. The sun following him wherever he steps.
“Did you enjoy your swim today, Father?” Both you and the Priest come to a slow stop. One of his angular eyebrows raised.
“I’m dry, Duchess.” He responds with a low, hypnotic chuckle.
Heat floods your cheeks. How could you be so presumptuous?
“What gave me away?”
Your knees nearly betray you. The razor sharp grin on his face could cut glass.
“You were born for the ocean. Or rather, the ocean was born for you.”
Your statement is greeted with blaring silence.
Lava in his gaze. Singeing every part of your face it touches. His expression is like a foreign language.
“I—I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Clearly I have much to learn about social graces.” A meek apology bubbles out of your lips. Desperate to fill the space between your bodies.
The mercurial man shakes his head slightly. Thawed out from your statement, he reaches over and plucks a stray lilac petal resting on your crown.
“My father used to say the same.” He muses, looking away for the first time.
“Your father! Is he—“
“He was called home some time ago.” This smile is soft. Reminiscent. Polite, but his mind clearly elsewhere.
“Oh Father Geto, I’m so sorry.”
A foot in your mouth is not enough punishment for your indecency. Why would you go prodding like this?
“Don’t be, I’ll see him again. Soon enough.”
“Not too soon, I hope.” The statement draws a stunned gaze from the Chaplain. Eyes dancing between yours.
“Time to prepare for mass, little dove!” Arella’s melodic call tethers you back down from outer space.
You flicker over to her with a ruby dusting over your nose and cheeks. Like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar before supper.
“Happy Sunday, Father!” Arella calls out, cheshire grin on her face deepening your crude blush.
“Indeed, Arella.” He returns the greeting while keeping his eyes on you.
“Send my regards to the Duke.” His voice lowers, for your ears only. With a nearly imperceptible edge to his tone.
“Happy Sunday, Duchess. We have a counseling session scheduled late afternoon, yes?”
A statement of pure black and white fact. And yet it travels down your spine and settles between your legs. Wet heat dampening your thin negligee.
“Yes, Father. Happy Sunday.”
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·
Mass was miserable.
Your corset laced tight enough to meld your two lungs and beating heart into one entity. To say the neckline strangled you is putting it mildly. Cold, uninviting pews dug into your skin at every turn.
Wretched.
But the worst of it wasn’t the thin, oxygen-deficient air. Or the shards of glass that slid down your throat with every swallow. Even the jaw pain from tensing your lips in a well-mannered smile for two hours straight was tolerable.
The worst part of it was him.
The Priest mesmerized an entire congregation to an ear-splitting hush.
His first Sunday mass since appointment and nearly everyone in the country and every surrounding province stuffed into the chapel.
So desperate for blessings from Father Geto.
Could you blame them?
His voice danced in and out of the pews listlessly.
Soothing fussy children. Adolescent girls and their mother’s alike — utterly smitten. Adolescent boys experienced their first “I want to be like him” with their fathers sitting right next to them. Husbands glanced feverishly at the women in their lives.
He had to have noticed it. And yet, he floated above it all the entire service.
Above you.
Refusing to gift you those eyes that put Vincent Van Gogh to shame. No matter how much you shifted in your seat and straightened your spine.
The Priest spoke to everyone in the room but you.
Did you read him wrong?
Did you misinterpret your budding friendship?
Does it…should it even matter?
Your irritation is palpable. Innocent bystanders are caught in your friendly fire. Including Arella, who changed you out of that horrid costume. And sweet Noel, who ushered you into the seating area — just outside of the good Father’s office.
You make a mental note to send treats to the tender-hearted alter boy. And to apologize profusely to your handmaiden.
“You are a million miles away, darling.” The sound of your betrothed tows you out of the storm clouds.
You flicker over to the Duke. Emerald green eyes, high cheek bones — handsome in a way that is characteristic of everyone native to your new home.
“I’m right here, Ezra.”
“Are you, sweetheart?” The back of his hand caresses your cheek.
“Mmhm.” You offer your future husband a weak smile and kiss on his cheek. His eyes faltering slightly, undoubtedly hopeful for lips instead.
“Good afternoon, Duke and Duchess Ahriman.”
Father Geto’s velvet greeting encases you both. If Ezra’s arm didn’t guide you to stand you would have been paralyzed in your seat.
“Father Geto, a pleasure. Thank you for seeing us.” Ezra offers a genuine smile and handshake. Buying you a few extra seconds in your mind’s safe haven.
The Chaplain is tight lipped. Professional. He returns the handshake firmly.
“Pleasure is mine.”
Ezra shifts slightly on his feet. Straightening his spine and dropping his shoulders. Your eyes bounce between the Chaplain and your fiancé.
“I must say, Father. You are even more handsome up close. I speak for the men in this country, thank you for taking the vow of celibacy!” The words spill out of the Duke. Unknowingly thinning the air.
The Priest chuckles quietly, dropping his eyes briefly before landing them on you. And it feels like you could double over. Your core temperature skyrockets under his smoldering gaze.
He, the archer. You, the bullseye.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
Ezra laces his fingers in yours, taking the two seats directly in front of the oak desk. A leather bound notebook and pheasant feather pen are neatly arranged — with your names on the first page.
Blue flame rises from your toes to hairline. You might as well have been sitting naked. With how exposed, how vulnerable you feel already.
“What will we be covering first, Father? Something about how wives should obey their husbands, right?” Ezra is light-hearted. Meant to be said in jest.
But he finds himself being the only party in the room laughing.
The Priest rolls the ink pen between his fingers. Allowing a deafening silence to coat the walls. His expression is neutral, but eyes ablaze.
“If the man in question is worthy of submission.” He starts. A low, ominous rumble.
“Uh, yes. Of course.” Ezra responds, shifting in his seat.
But the Chaplain does not stop. Intent on making a point, he leans in. Pen whirling lightning fast between his long, deft fingers. Enough tailwind to launch across the room, if he desired.
“If the man in question would give his life for his wife.” Volcanic eyes linger on you, then back to your fiancé. Ezra’s palm finds your thigh. You gnaw on your inner cheek to avoid flinching away.
“If he would love her like Christ loves all of his creations unconditionally. Unselfishly. Irrationally.”
“Yes, Father. I understand.”
“Only then, should she submit.” His serrated tone could split chromium with ease.
“Of course, of course.” Ezra wisely accepts defeat.
He presses a short kiss on your cheek as an apology that you didn’t ask for, nor do you want.
“Mmm.” A forced acknowledgment of the Duke’s affection through your pinched lips. Barely able to move under the Father’s microscopic gaze.
“Now then,” Father Geto clears the boulders in his throat.
“Tell me about your love.”
The question stuns both you and the Duke. Looking to each other sheepishly because neither of you chose this.
War is young men dying and old men talking. And your life path is no different. Dictated by conversations between the powers that be.
“We’ve only met a week ago, Father.” Your honesty drives both of his eyebrows upward.
“A week ago?”
“But we are hoping you can teach us.” The Duke, overeager and excitable.
“Teach you…?” Father Geto muses. You can’t quite interpret his tone, or minimal response. But your heart flutters all the same.
He is thinking something. And what you would give to get a glance. To be let in.
“Perhaps guide us?” Ezra gives an unintentionally painful squeeze on your thigh. You fail to muffle the tiny whimper.
The Priest’s eyes laser down to where your fiancé’s hand lays. Chest rising and falling dangerously slow.
“Right.”
Your eyes trail upwards as he stands. Closer to God than to you from this point of view.
“Duke, Duchess. You’ll have to accept my sincerest apologies.”
His fingers dip the unused pen back into the ink cup. The edges of his leather bound notebook coming together. Seemingly without any notes, but an entire script from this session swirling in his mind.
“My schedule is incorrect. I have another commitment. We will reschedule, yes?” Said with a finality that sends chills crawling down your spine.
The two of you stand. Another handshake between the men. A restrained nod for you.
Just as quickly as you were let in, Father Geto shuts you out of his office and his mind.
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·
Suguru presses his forehead against the shower tile. Warm water raining down his loose mane. Soothing his sore, overworked limbs.
Today was maddening.
He nearly destroyed his vestment the minute that God-forsaken counseling session ended. Seeking refuge, he took to the coast.
And the sea provided anything but peace.
She was angry with him, tonight.
Curt. With unpredictable currents. Rip tides at nearly every turn. She tested his adaptation without mercy.
Just like that night.
“I’m going to stay on board, brother!”
Suguru flickered over to the silver-haired deckhand. An unfamiliar reservation opacifying his nearly translucent, iridescent eyes.
Brother in name, technically.
Their bloodlines were oil and water. He was a high born. Suguru was born unworthy of a beggar’s pity.
But, bloodlines were inconsequential when their souls were instep as one. Both handed to humanity on the same night. During a thunderstorm already inscribed in history books.
‘The Tide of Eternal Requiem.’
It brought complete devastation. Crops destroyed. Families torn apart by tragic accidents inland and at sea.
Then fate struck.
Within the same hour, a voltaic boy, with a halo that put the clouds to shame and diamond eyes that could draw truth from murderers was born into the loving embrace of his parents.
And Suguru was born with a crown so dark that the raging midnight appeared bright.
With eyes as ominous as the sky above.
Gunmetal grey, accented by an eerie violet swarm. Dormant volcanoes, threatening eruption. His birth mother abandoned him in an alley. Driven by fear that he was a bad omen from the Gods.
“Ahhh, Satoru come on. Since when do you shy away from a few waves?”
Suguru teased. Already well into the process of shedding his work gear.
“Zeus is the one rumored to be my father.” His counterpart flashed a knowing smile.
“Poseidon doesn’t watch over me like he does you, Suguru.”
A tsunami couldn’t keep Suguru from his home. Much less a little rain.
They were 3 miles away from the shoreline. Using his God-given ability, Suguru regularly acted as their scout. Performing his own reconnaissance then alerting the incoming ship of safe or turbulent terrain.
“Almost ready to go, son?”
His chosen father came up behind him. Suguru knew there were tears lining his meek eyes before turning to face him.
“Dad.” Suguru sighed, fully disrobed now. Just his muscular frame and a compression suit.
He met his father’s concerned gaze. Always like this during sea storms. Quiet prayers written all over his gentle features.
Despite the worry, he never once attempted to convince his oceanic boy to stay on board. It would have been too cruel.
“I’ll be fine, I’ve traversed angrier swells.”
“Suguru, take care of yourself when I’m gone.”
Elder, worn hands landed on his shoulders. Nearly too high for his reach. Suguru cocked his head to the side.
This goodbye was different.
“Stay on this path. For me. Albeit straight and narrow, there is a wonderful view. This is all for you, son.”
Both men glanced to the Persian gulf. She thrashed against their vessel. Swaying their catch left and right with the intention of taking her creatures back.
“Where is this coming from?” A genuine question from his younger self. Unable to read between the lines.
“Can’t a man just speak from the heart?”
The melancholy smile didn’t meet the wrinkles of time decorating his eyes, but they shared a laugh anyway. Suguru turned away but was promptly drawn back.
“My beautiful boy.”
The fisherman cradled his son’s face. Swimming in the eyes that Suguru once hated. The eyes that convinced his birth mother to abandon him.
“Make it to shore, son.” Suguru rested his head against his father’s neck. Taking a slow, sweet drag of his scent.
Oak.
He always smelled like oak. It was one of Suguru’s favorite things about him.
“If Poseidon calls—“
“I’ll tell him to fuck off.” Mischievous grin plastered on Suguru’s face. His father planted a kiss on his cheek, pushing him towards the end of the boat. As he always did.
Then the Gulf wrapped him in her hostile embrace.
She was irate.
Vicious tidal waves. Rapidly shifting currents. Even her creatures knew to settle below their usual depth. Suguru cursed the fact that he was born with useless, human lungs. Unable to withstand the pressure of the Midnight Zone.
Within minutes his long, lean frame was riding her whims without a shred of control. Tossed around like a rag doll. At her complete mercy — or lack thereof.
This was the first time he struggled to tame his element. A muffled groan bubbled around him. Serrated edges of long coral stalks dug into his back. Stark white foam whirled around him.
Aerated waters.
Suguru could barely maneuver against the waves pummeling his core. Searing heat traveling up his spine. His lungs demanded oxygen.
The boat.
The boat would never make it to shore.
Desperate, furious strokes of his arms meant nothing against her unrelenting grasp. Effectively pinning Suguru to his underwater cross.
A piece of chewed plank wood whizzed by his face.
Followed by another.
Then another.
And Suguru watched his nightmare materialize before his eyes. Mustering his last oxygen reserve, he bellowed against his closed lips.
As if she hadn’t already ignored the cries of his fellow fisherman.
Even still, he screamed so loud his ribcage should have vaporized. But ushering him to a watery grave at that time would have been too merciful.
Suguru blinks out of the harrowing memory. The steeping tea takes at least two layers of epithelium off his esophagus.
Fucking, hell.
He can’t seem to escape pain today.
The swim was excruciating.
Mass was dreadful.
Watching that boy’s hand lay on your lap was grating.
Suguru’s mind drifts back to you. Your thought washes over him like baptizing waters purifying that which is impure.
The gleam in your eyes when you asked about his morning plunge. Barely a week and your pulse on him is already this precise.
Do not covet, Suguru.
He scoffs to himself. Shaking free of your tempting spiral.
This ‘straight and narrow’ path is proving to be more challenging than he let on.
“Would you be proud, Father?”
A whisper of accusation at the end of his inquiry. Suguru would give his arms, his eyes…his life to hear his father’s voice on the other end of his questions, once again.
“Did He tell you?”
Roaring silence. Of course. He knows that. He expects it.
But it angers him all the same.
“Did He come to you in a dream??” Suguru echos louder. More frantic. Punched out in a way he can barely recognize.
“Was the reaper at His left, my heart on the right?!” A weak sob slips through the crack in his baritone.
Yet another pain. But this one is tart and blurring his vision.
“Did you KNOW? D—did you know that day was your last?!” He hisses through a salty stream. Storming out to the garden to escape the walls collapsing in on him.
Suguru’s eyes laser to the remaining thorny vines along his bed of hydrangeas. Without a second thought he wraps them around his bare arms. Staining the plant and his freshly bathed skin with crystalline tears. Once its thorns sufficiently bury into his skin he rips it away from the soil with all his might.
“Bastard. I’m your SON.”
Warm metallic drips down the hills and ridges of his arms. Collecting in the flower bed.
Is he cursing his earthly father?
His Heavenly One?
Or the Deity that brought this grief on him in the first place?
It hurts.
An unforgiving pain.
Much like the thorns in those rapids. Much like the inconceivable burn from his lungs begging for expanse. The time limit, even for him, ran lethally low.
Well exceeding his father’s time limit.
Poseidon stole from him that day.
A callous trade for Suguru’s continued existence.
“Why didn’t you…I—I should’ve been there.”
Guilt eviscerates Suguru’s remaining resolve. Tilting his head up, he lets the salty crystals rain down his cheeks freely.
The full moon cradles his face with the same warmth, the same adoration his father’s hands used to.
Suguru accepts its celestial kisses for a moment before burying his face into his bloodied palms. His damp locks curtain his flushed face. Protecting the world from his unruly sobs.
“I’m here.” Barely audible words escape through desperate grabs for air.
“I made it to shore, Dad.”
E/N: Oh hello, don’t mind me just sobbing. Also, guest appearance by our glorious Blue Eyed Babygirl King™️ If you need me, I will be in witness protection before Gege finds this since it’s a crime to be a S*toru lover.
taglist: @blkkizzat @rotteneyess
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A Second Lease - The Wedding
See the original from @mrwavellswaps here. Its probably my favorite story ever.
Five years had passed since I made the decision to seal myself into my son's body permanently. And let me tell you, it's been nothing short of ecstasy. Today, as I stand here in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. It's my wedding day, and I'm about to marry the love of my life, Sean.
As I straighten my tie, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I can't help but pause and appreciate the sight. I turn slightly, flexing my biceps, admiring the sculpted physique that now defines me. The reflection staring back at me is a testament to the transformation I've undergone. This body, once my son's, now mine, is a masterpiece – sculpted muscles, flawless skin, and a confidence that radiates from every pore.
With a smirk, I run my hands over my chest, feeling the firmness of the muscles beneath my fingertips. I lift my shirt slightly, revealing the chiseled abs that now adorn my torso. It's a sight to behold, one that fills me with pride and satisfaction.
"You're looking good, Jay," I say to myself, unable to tear my gaze away from the mirror. I straighten my shirt and adjust my collar, feeling a surge of excitement as I prepare to embark on this new chapter of my life. Today is not just about marrying Sean; it's about celebrating the journey that has brought me to this moment.
There hasn't been a single day where I haven't felt thankful for the choice I made. I can still vividly remember the day I proposed to Sean. We were hiking in the mountains, surrounded by breathtaking views. I got down on one knee, my heart pounding with nervous excitement, and asked him to spend the rest of his life with me. The look of joy on his face as he said yes will forever be etched in my memory.
Meanwhile, my dad's life hasn't been as rosy as mine. Every month that went by, he still went back to the woods, hoping against hope that he can reverse the swap. I can't say I blame him. After all, since I've been in control, this body has only gotten better. But unfortunately for him, no matter how many times he threw coins into that mystical well, it still never worked.
As the years went on, I noticed he began to look older than before. Whereas I kept my hair neat and trimmed and – in my eyes – quite youthful, he let himself go a bit. His long hair was still handsome, but definitely aged him up.
As he struggled to hold onto his youth, I eventually succumbed to a bit of guilt and couldn't keep the truth from him any longer. I came clean about what happened – about how I made that wish and sealed our fates. And let's just say, he didn't take it well.
"I made the choice that was best for me, Dad. It's time you accepted it," I stated firmly.
He stormed off, cursing me as he walked. "This is how you fucking repay me?" he shouted. "And why does that make any sense? Even if you wanted to keep my body forever, why would you make it so that the well wouldn’t work on me anymore?"
You might be asking yourself the same question. Why did I make both our bodies impervious to magic? Well, to be honest, I needed to ensure that I would be the only Jay – no other versions to detract from the attention. Nobody to take away the perfect life that I was living. And someone to stand in my place, so people wouldn't make my life a hassle coming and asking what happened to my dad.
Looking back, I can't help but acknowledge the brilliance of my decision. I mean, come on, look at me – I'm hot, young, and irresistible. But I can't help but wonder what it would have been like to let myself keep this version of it forever. But hey, I still look amazing, and that's not changing anytime soon.
As for my dad, he refused to come to the wedding. I'm not surprised, really. Ever since I came clean about what happened, our relationship has been strained, to say the least. But you know what? It's no bother. Because at the end of the day, Sean is all I need.
As I stand in front of the mirror, lost in my thoughts, the sound of the door creaking open breaks the silence. Sean's presence behind me is electric, his hungry smirk sending a jolt of anticipation through my body. As he wraps his arms around my waist, I can't help but smile, feeling his warmth against my skin.
"You clean up well, babe," Sean's voice is like velvet, low and husky. His fingers trace along the contours of my chest, sending shivers down my spine. The warmth of his breath against my ear sends a thrill through me as he whispers, "But you know what would make this look even better?"
Before I can respond, our lips meet in a fiery, passionate kiss, igniting a blaze of desire between us. With a teasing tug, Sean rips off my shirt, leaving only the tie around my neck. "You're one sexy hunk," he murmurs, his gaze filled with hunger as he takes in my exposed chest.
Moving towards the bed, Sean takes hold of the tie, using it as a leash to guide me, a silent command that I'm more than willing to follow. As he lines up his cock against my eager hole, I can't help but marvel at his size, every thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
"You've been putting in extra hours at the gym, babe," Sean chuckles sexily, his voice sending shivers down my spine. "I can tell."
He keeps pounding me. Its so good I can hardly stand it.
"God, Jay," Sean gasps, his voice strained with pleasure, "you feel so good."
Hearing him use that name, Jay, ignites a fire within me, fueling my desire as I flex my muscles, showing off for him.
As our passion builds, reaching its peak, we both find release our massive loads together, our bodies moving in perfect harmony as waves of ecstasy wash over us. In the aftermath, Sean's fingers trace patterns across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "You're amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with reverence and adoration.
As Sean puts his shirt back on, I can't help but voice my concern about staining it. But he just chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't worry, babe," he reassures me, "it'll dry. And then, when we're on the altar and dancing the night away, it'll be our sexy little secret."
Later, as we stand at the altar, preparing to exchange our vows, my mind drifts back to our passionate encounter. Aside from being extremely horny for him, I also feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and happiness that Sean brings into my life. Becoming Jay and making his life my own was definitely the right decision. And as Sean and I embark on this new chapter together, I'm ready for whatever lies ahead.
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a man who just wants you and needs you and would do anything for you (gone sexual)
// this is a self-insert.. it can be abt anyone u want ;3 !! but if u need some help: atsumu, kaeya, zoro, wriothesely, shoyo.. literally anyone that’s funny but also ;) KUROO
he’s been making you laugh all night. lighthearted conversation not slowing down, and countless attempts at getting you to roll your eyes at him. he looks good, too, like, casual good. black sweats and freshly washed hair.
he’s sitting on your bed, feet flat on the floor looking up at you as you go about your business. he’s a strange guy, he says something unfunny, yet its hard to not laugh. its cringey and genuinely stupid, yet comforting all the same.
you’ve been parading some new clothes on for yourself, styling pieces for him to nod and approve at. the way you move around is everything to him. he could just watch you, permanently. he wouldn’t need his phone, or a book or a computer. just you.
and that has him hard in his pants. just watching you do your thing, your glow from previously being out, with friends and at the shops— it didn’t matter.
“hey,”
“yeah?” you cheerily turn toward him, eager to keep conversation alive.
“come here,” his smile has you complicit, walking over to him, “wanna sit?”
you look down.
eyes fluttering between how hard he is and his eyes— at how fast this all changed. he’s so pretty and you just want to nod and nod and nod to him, that you’d do anything with him.
“yes, i do. yeah, okay. i don’t wanna hurt you, though, so—”
“here,” he interrupts you, guiding your hips down, “yeah, just like that,” the genuine smile on his face gives you courage.
neither of you dare to move once you’re fully sat, no one shifting or grinding, just resting on each other.
“do you feel what you do to me?” he almost laughs in exasperation. everything he says is so genuine, “i’m hard just thinking about you.” the honesty hurts.
the man underneath you is everything. he’s so sincere now that he’s not trying to make you laugh, not trying to make you roll your eyes at the stupid things he says. he doesn’t have to work for your attention.
“can i move?” you whisper, his cock so painfully there. your eyes don’t move from his.
“yeah, just— shit,” he hisses, “fuck. slowly. just rock back and forth a little.”
and it’s so easy. it’s so easy and he’s looking right at you and he’s telling you how good it feels, and god, don’t you know how long he’s wanted this for?
“is this okay? i mean, does it feel good? am i doing—”
“perfect,” he reaches a hand up to the back of your head, “it’s perfect.” his large hand pulls your head down to his, face to face with what you’re doing, who you’re doing.
he looks down at your lips, breaking the unbreakable eye contact you’d had so far, and presses his lips against yours. your hips stutter here and there, unused to the motion, but desperate to keep it there.
“let me take care of you.”
you nod.
his hands are polite on your hips, firm in how he handles you. he slides himself to the head of the bed, patting right between his open legs.
“saved you a spot,” he grins. and you remember this is the same man from an hour ago. you roll your eyes, yet sit right there, your back pressed to his chest, “this okay?” he says with his hands so close to your waistband. you nod again.
“you’re very compliant with me.” he says, and there’s nothing— no words, that could justify that. because he’s right, “i almost expected you to laugh at me more.” his slender fingers dip beneath your clothes, and he’s kind of an asshole, but he’s touching you so nicely.
“oh,” you grab onto his wrist, “feels good,” he nods against your skin.
his other hand just wants to feel you. the outside of your neck, the crease in your elbow. the curve of your ear, the shape of your breasts.
it’s obsessive.
your head drops onto his shoulder, your eyes turning to meet his and you realise he’s been looking at you this whole time. you avert your eyes, a slight red brushing your cheeks.
he’s still looking at you with a slight smile on his face. “you shy?”
“a little,” you reply for integrity’s sake.
he absolutely beams.
all the while you can feel him right against your back. he’s right there. just playing with you, hooked on every whimper and moan and twitch he can get from you.
“i’ve been waiting so long for you, you have no idea.” his sincerity is overwhelming and so are his fingers.
you nod. because that’s all you can do. “another, another. please.” you pant towards him.
“another what? tell me what you want.” he’s smiling, you can feel it.
“finger. please. can i, please?” oh, he melts. your voice softening for him and your body tense against his cock, he feels like he’s going to cum in his pants. he might.
“of course. whatever you want.” his free hand glides against your jaw, fingers grazing the side of your neck. he needs to kiss it, and bite it and leave something there. maybe as proof that this is real, that he has you how he wants you. feeling good.
so he does, he laps at your neck slowly. his fingers don’t stop fingering you, but he raises his thumb to rub at you. and that has you really going. twitching back into him, jumpy moans and sweet noises coming from you, uncontrollably it seems. your hand goes to cover your mouth.
“don’t ruin a good thing, baby. move your hand. let me hear you.”
“it’s embarrassing,” you stutter out.
he grins again, teeth grazing your neck. “i know. it’s okay.”
and it’s when you cum, with hips bucking and hand gripped onto his wrist, that he doesn’t stop.
tears well up in your eyes, “i came. i came, i came,” you chant, maybe he didn’t notice, maybe he didn’t realise.
“i know.” there’s no emotion in his voice, he’s so concentrated, so invested in what he can get out of you. what sounds, what actions, the way you move. it’s like he’s on a timer, he only has so much of it with you and he needs to milk it to its fullest.
“it’s sensitive, please. it’s too much,” tears well up in your eyes.
“you gonna cry?”
you nod against him.
“i’m sorry,” he presses his lips to where he’s bitten your neck, “brave girl. tough it out.”
what he says leaves you with no choice. something clicks in your head and you nod over and over again.
you whine and cry, blubbering words and sentences that don’t make sense. sensing that you’re going to cum again, you push against his fingers.
“don’t. stay still.”
“i can’t,” you whine, “i can’t again.”
“you can.” he smiles. he smiles and smiles and all you can do is twitch and cry out.
and when you cum for him again, pleasure overwhelming every part of you, he flips you onto your back, strong hands gently laying you back.
“my turn,” his grin melts as he presses the head of his cock into you. he preens at the feeling of you hugging him, “oh fuck. feels perfect. you’re perfect.”
your eyes scrunch closed, blubbering like someone who’s forgotten speech.
he’s sliding in and out of you, wanting to feel every single centimetre of himself in you. it’s heaven and he can’t believe that this will have to end.
your head starts to hit the soft headboard, tears still pilled up from the overstimulation on your body.
and then it just stops. he pulls out of you.
“back to you baby,” his hands slide against you once more, and you know it’s going to end with you sobbing against him.
a fun night.
#you guys would crucify me if i told you who inspired this#NO TRIGGER WARNINGS WOW!!!!#the most kindest thing i’ve ever written. i think i jusy want to feel loved#sorry i’ll go back to hardcore stuff later i just need to get this out of my system#service dom#yum#genshin men#genshin smut#praise#praise k!nk#you would make me delete my page if i told you who this was based on#I DONT KNOW HOW TO TAG#haikyuu men#haikyuu smut#kaeya smut#atsumu smut#tw overstim#overstim kink#OVERSTIM#HE BEAMS BC U R HAPPY he is the man of all time
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Always Ever Only You Part 15 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley had some explaining to do. After the most perfect weekend, you were afraid he was trying to hide information from you again. But Bradley didn't hold back when he told you what happened and what he was concerned about.
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, mentions of cancer
Length: 4600 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32
Your hands were shaky as you tried to call Bradley. You didn't understand what was going on, and you were pissed off that the first time you were hearing about him being involved with two people who were being court-martialed was through an email. You hated calling him when there was a chance he was in the air, but if that was the case, then his phone should be off.
Just as you were about to tap his contact in your phone, Bickel came rushing into the lab, arms full of folders. "Delete that email," he told you, out of breath. "The one from Yates. You weren't supposed to see it."
You looked up at him as you slid your phone down onto the counter. "Well, I did see it, sir," you whispered. "I don't even know what's going on."
"Neither do I," he responded gently, setting the folders down in a haphazard pile. "But I don't want your login credentials attached to this in any way. Whatever happened should stay out of your hands since your husband was involved with the special detachment. I'll take care of it. Understand?"
You started to nod, and then you said, "But, sir. Why am I getting emails from Admiral Yates?"
Your boss sighed and checked his watch. He looked frantic, and now you were really getting nervous for whatever must have happened during Bradley's deployment. But Bickel's words and the way he smiled kindly at you even though you could tell he was stressed out meant a lot.
"Because if you haven't noticed, you're second in command around here. Maybe not officially. Yet. But I rely on you for a lot of things, and everyone else in the group does, too. And your work is always spot on."
You felt tears prickle behind your eyes, and you had to look away from him as you muttered, "Thank you." But of course your eyes settled back on your computer screen and the email.
"Delete the email," he repeated, and you knew he wasn't going to say it kindly a third time. So you did as your commanding officer told you to and watched the email soar into your trash can, and from there you deleted it permanently. "I'll take care of it myself so you know it's done correctly. I will pull the comms and verify the coding so you don't have to question whether or not the information being sent over has been properly validated. I don't want you worrying about this right now."
"But you'll need someone else to verify everything with you, sir," you whispered.
He nodded and closed your computer softly. "I'm just on my way to talk to Lieutenant Coleman about it. She's more than competent. She and I can sign off on it and get it ready tonight. You're dismissed for the day."
And that was it. Not another word. He picked up the folders and walked over to where Cat was sitting in front of her computer wearing the expensive headphones that were used to occasionally play back communications and check aircrafts for audio clarity. And Bickel interrupted her. It was kind of an unspoken rule that you didn't interrupt someone who was wearing the state of the art headphones.
Cat jumped in her seat before giving Bickel her full attention. After a few seconds, her eyes met yours, and then she agreed with whatever he was telling her. You quietly stood and picked up your computer and headed for your office.
You were the only one in your group with a private office other than Commander Bickel himself. Sure, yours was roughly a quarter of the size of his, and it had a view of the parking lot and a brick wall, but it was yours. And you were his number two. You really wanted to be able to enjoy that fact, but you'd been dismissed. Probably so he could talk about the court-martialing. And you figured that by now, Bradley would be wrapped up in these proceedings as well.
You shoved all your stuff into your desk drawer and grabbed your keys. This morning had started off so beautifully: making out with your husband followed by an overpriced drink from Starbucks that he made sure was ready for you to pick up.
When you opened your door to leave, Cat was standing there about to knock. "Yes?" you asked her, feeling like everyone must know what was going on now besides you.
"I just wanted to catch you before you left," she replied slowly. "I read the email from Yates. I promise I'll double and triple check everything even if I'm here all night."
"Thanks," you whispered, hoping you could trust her with this. You felt like somehow Bradley's integrity was tied to that audio.
Cat fiddled with her hands as she said, "It's my job, but you're also my friend." And then she turned on her heel and walked away so quickly, you couldn't really respond if you wanted to.
When you stumbled out of the elevator in the lobby, Jake was right there. "Have you seen Bradley?" you asked him, but he gathered you up in his arms and started to dance and spin you around in front of the main entrance.
"Sure haven't. He's been locked away with Maverick all afternoon. Phoenix and Bob, too," he replied easily. "But guess who's going out with Cat tonight. Just take one guess, Angel."
"Oh," you gasped as he dipped you. Then you pressed your lips together, afraid to tell him that Cat and Commander Bickel would probably be verifying codes for the next several hours at least.
He pulled you back to standing as he said, "Hang on, that's my phone." Jake pulled it out of his pocket and read the text message he received. "Shit. Cat cancelled on me."
"Jake-" But you stopped. You knew you shouldn't be talking about the special mission apparently gone wrong, but he looked so disappointed. He'd been wanting to go on an actual date with her for months, not just making out in the rec room.
When he spoke, his voice was bland and monotone. "She's blaming it on working late. Meanwhile it looks like you're leaving early, so I'm not buying it." Then he laughed sardonically. "I was going to take her to a movie tonight, and then on Friday I was hoping Jeremiah could tag along on another date. I found a kid-friendly restaurant for dinner."
When you reached for his hand, he just shook his head. "Jake. Don't get upset with her, okay?"
He ran his hand through his hair as he walked away. "I need to get back to the hanger. Later, Angel."
You hated today. You wanted answers, and then you wanted to go to bed. And it annoyed you that you still wanted Bradley to read you to sleep from his notebook when he was the one who hadn't given you any details about his deployment, even though you had asked. Multiple times.
When you pulled your car into the driveway, you realized Bradley wouldn't be home for at least an hour. You wanted to act normal about this and start making dinner or doing something productive, but you were starting to wonder if he was hiding information from you again, just like the sperm test results. And that was enough to make you lose your appetite. You hurried inside, and Tramp followed you to the couch where you sat and took some deep breaths. The realization that you should have just stayed on base and had a discussion with Dr. Genevieve washed over you, and you were afraid you were going to cry.
You wrapped your arms around Tramp and waited, and it actually didn't feel like too much time had passed when you heard the Bronco pull into the driveway. When the front door opened, Bradley looked surprised to see you.
"You're home," he said softly, closing the door behind him. When you just nodded and clung to Tramp, Bradley pressed his lips together. "I take it you heard about the....mishap?"
"Mishap?" you asked, finally scrambling to your feet as Tramp ran to Bradley. "That's what you're calling it? All I know is that I asked you all weekend to tell me about your deployment, but you didn't. And then today I got an email with your name and credentials listed underneath a docket number for two officers who are being court martialed."
Bradley bent to pet Tramp without taking his eyes off yours. "You're right. You did ask me several times, but Sweetheart, the weekend was so perfect. I didn't want to ruin it by talking about work."
You rubbed the heels of your hands against your eyes. "You were gone for eight weeks, Bradley. That's not the same as discussing a regular day at work. And clearly something absolutely insane happened! What are you trying to hide from me now?"
The rosy pink of his cheeks faded away as a look of pure panic filled his handsome features. "Nothing. There's nothing to hide. I just thought we'd talk about it today. I had no idea everything was going to blow up like it did."
You threw your hands up in the air, and you hated how shrill your voice sounded. "Is everything even okay?"
"Yes," he insisted, closing the distance to you and wrapping his arms around your body, enveloping you in his warmth. "Everyone who left the carrier deck made it back to the carrier deck."
Apparently you'd been holding your breath, because you were finally able to let it out. "Good," you whispered, burying your face in his neck. "That email made me feel physically sick."
"I'm sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley rasped next to your ear before kissing your temple. "If I knew everything was going to happen so fast, I would have taken some time out of the weekend to talk about it. But being back home with you and spending time as just us was really the only thing on my agenda."
You didn't stop him when he guided you toward the bedroom and started to unbutton and unzip you out of your uniform. And you let him pull his UVA shirt over your head and guide you into bed. And then you watched him strip down to his underwear before he picked up Tramp and climbed in with you. "Here's what happened," he said, pulling you close.
---------------------------
Bradley felt a little awkward detailing what went down in the air with Slayer for you. It was an odd thing to recount it to someone who wasn't an aviator, but you just held him tight and asked questions when you needed clarification. But the way you gasped when Bradley told you he was the spare made him feel somewhat validated.
"The spare? This Admiral Dean asshole named you the spare?" You went shooting up in the bed, indignation flashing in your eyes as you pointed at him. "You're not the spare! You're the main event. You'd never treat a mission like it was your own little game where other people's lives didn't fucking count for anything!"
Bradley could tell he was blushing as he said, "Nat and Bob were directly in danger when I got called to the catapult."
Now you were standing on your knees looking straight up furious. "What did you do?!"
He ran his hand along his mustache and whispered, "I just... dealt with it. I don't know. You know I don't like talking about air to air kills. Nat and Bob were leaking fuel to the point where I was convinced they wouldn't even make it out over the water before they had to eject. But Nat managed to land it on deck in spite of full engine failure."
"Full engine failure?!"
"Yes."
"And all of this happened because this Slayer person went way off course to attend his own rodeo or something?"
Bradley laughed in spite of himself. "Yes."
"Right. Right," you said, even though it sounded like you thought it was all very wrong. "And this Slayer child was allowed to be the fucking team leader because of Admiral Dean?"
"Yes."
You just shook your head at him, standing there on your knees with your hands on your hips. "A court-martial is too good for these fuckers," you said, your voice breaking as you lunged for him.
Bradley caught you in his arms as you burst into tears. "Don't cry. Everyone is fine."
But you were shaking in his arms as you tightened your hold on him. "I could have lost you, Roo... and like, I just know there was at least a small part of you that thought I didn't want this."
He kissed your cheek and whispered, "I knew you loved me. I knew my ring was safe with you. That was enough."
You pulled away from where you'd had your face pressed to the side of his neck. Tears were welling up in your eyes before sliding down your cheeks. "No, that's not enough. I love you more than anything. And you deserve to hear me say that to you."
Bradley gently rolled you onto your back and let his cheek rest on your shoulder as you cried. He wrapped one arm around your middle and tried not to crush you with his weight as you threaded your fingers through his hair. It felt so good, the way you were touching him and crying for him. "I'm right here," he told you, and eventually your breathing evened out.
"I can't believe spending the weekend in the bathtub with me was more important to you than getting all of that off your chest."
"Spending a weekend in the bathtub with you is more important than literally anything else I can think of," he promised, happy to hear you laugh. "But if we're being honest here, Sweetheart, when I got passed over for the mission and named as the spare instead... I'm having a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that I'm probably on the back end of my career as a pilot."
You were silent for a beat, but when you spoke, your fingers were still soft in his hair. "Who named the teams?"
"Admiral Dean."
"And have we not established that he's a mindless idiot who favors the aviators from Lemoore over everyone else?"
Bradley hadn't really considered that the hit to his ego and career should have been taken with a grain of salt. Perhaps there was something to be said for who was in charge of the mission details. "I'm still the oldest one around, compared to everyone at Top Gun and everyone from Lemoore," he murmured.
"Older, sure," you whispered. "But you're also more experienced. And more patient. And smarter. And you were able to tolerate being named the spare without throwing a fit. You're not on the back end of your career. Maybe it will take a different shape, but it's not ending."
Without another word, Bradley fell asleep on you while he thought about what flying meant to him, your touch calming him enough to do that without panicking.
-----------------------
You were so hungry now that Bradley told you what had happened. Your stomach was starting to growl, and you realized that you hadn't actually started anything for dinner. But Bradley was still dozing on you an hour later, his arm heavy across your belly where you pressed your fingers to the ink of his tattoo.
He must have been exhausted, dealing with all of this nonsense during his deployment and traveling across so many time zones. And yet he had made you feel so important all weekend, even attempting to make you breakfast. Giving you his undivided attention. Making love to you exactly how you needed it.
When he eventually started to stir, you felt bad that you didn't have anything ready for him to eat. He looked up at you, slowly easing himself into a push up position above you. "Sorry...how long was I out?" he rasped, grunting as he bent his elbows until his lips met yours.
"More than an hour," you whispered as he kissed you over and over again. "You must be exhausted."
"Nah, I feel great," he promised, climbing out of bed and pulling you with him. "Want me to make you some toast?"
"Please don't. I was thinking of just ordering something since I didn't get anything ready to cook." You briefly thought about Cat and Bickel and wondered if they were still working right now.
"Let's get a pizza," Bradley said, grabbing his phone. "It's easy and Tramp loves when you feed him the crusts."
Later, when you sat down on Bradley's lap with a slice of pizza in your hand, you laughed as Tramp sat on the floor begging. You tore off a piece of the crust for him while Bradley inhaled two slices stacked one on top of the other. You were just about to ask him if he'd read some more of his notebook to you when he reached for a third piece.
"Was thinking," he said between bites. "How about a bath before bed? And since you let me nap earlier, I could read until you fall asleep?"
You felt like you were on your honeymoon again where everything you did together just made sense. "You read my mind." And there was just something so good about his voice right now. Whether it was him sitting behind you in the tub or fucking you on the bathmat or leading you to the shower to get you cleaned up a second time, his voice in your ear was exactly what you needed.
"We do some of our best work in the bathroom," he whispered, thrusting into you slowly as your towel unraveled from around you.
"You say that about every room," you reminded him, letting him spread your legs wider as he nipped at your breasts.
"Only because it's true, Sweetheart."
You giggled in the shower, because fifteen minutes ago you'd been clean and then he came inside you. But you were yawning non stop by the time you climbed back into bed. You could barely keep your eyes open as Bradley picked up his notebook and opened it to a page you hadn't heard him read yet.
He wrapped one strong arm around you and cleared his throat. "Promise you won't get upset?" he asked you, holding the notebook just far enough away that you couldn't read it without your contacts or glasses.
"I mean, did you like write something really mean about me?" you asked, squinting.
"No," he said with a laugh. "But it's a full page about all the shit I do that I hate."
"I won't get mad, but that doesn't mean I have to agree with any of it."
He responded by clearing his throat again and reading.
"I was never planning on being married to someone. That's exhausting, right? Way too much responsibility. What if they decide they hate you and leave one day? Or die of cancer? Or what if I burn in? What are you even supposed to do then?
In an effort not to turn into either of my parents, I think I just gave up on the idea. My mom's engagement ring took up residence in a cardboard box in a storage unit for almost twenty years. I don't think I thought about it more than a handful of times, only occasionally remembering how pretty it looked when she wore it outside in the sunshine.
And then I met a woman, and suddenly the fact that I didn't know the exact location of that ring was very unsettling to me. Was it in a box with photos, pushed all the way against the back wall? Was it in a smaller box with my dad's diploma from the Naval Academy? Which box was it in?
These thoughts alternated between being paramount to my very existence and also quite laughable. She wouldn't want to marry me. I'd only known her a few weeks. She was perfect. Beautiful. Funny. Smarter than everyone else.
I second guessed myself even more than usual. And then the most peculiar thing happened. She accepted the ring right out of the cardboard box, and then she married me.
But I haven't been good enough.
And that is a fact that is worse than all my worst fears. It's worse than burning in. It's worse than dying of cancer. It's worse than being left behind. I can't stand the fact that she's too hard on herself because of me. That's fucked up. It makes me feel gross. I don't want a baby more than I want my wife. I just want my wife. I want her right now. I wanted her yesterday. I am going to want her tomorrow.
But two weeks ago when I made her think I didn't, that was probably the worst thing I've ever done. Because it didn't even occur to me how much I was fucking up. Congratulations, you failed. Stop doing it. Be better. If you even get another chance."
When Bradley turned his head to see if you were still awake, you whispered, "I didn't like that page as much as the others."
"I figured you wouldn't."
There were a million things you wanted to say to make him feel better. Share the blame for what happened. But he was proving to you that he had nothing to hide, and he was reading back his candid thoughts. And you never wanted him to stop. So you just kissed his neck and said, "Thanks for reading it to me. But now I want you to read my favorite page again."
He flipped back to find it, and you were asleep after about five words.
Your alarm for work came too early considering how cozy you felt in bed. If you could live in this moment a little longer, you gladly would. You felt warm and safe, and Bradley's first words of the day made you laugh. "I'll order you another overpriced coffee, but your new French press should be here today."
When you walked into the lab with your iced latte to find that Cat was the only person there, you gave her an awkward, "Good morning."
"Hi," she replied, stifling a yawn. She looked exhausted.
"How late were you here?" you asked her, feeling terrible that you weren't the one to put in all the extra hours.
She eyed you hesitantly. "Pretty late. Bickel told me I could come in at lunchtime today, but I didn't want to leave you hanging out to dry with the proposals from Annapolis."
"Thanks," you whispered. But then your heart rate picked up a little bit as you thought about what happened to Bradley. You blurted out, "I need to know what was in that audio."
Cat was instantly shaking her head. "You can't listen to it. Bickel said he doesn't want your login credentials anywhere near it. Could be a massive conflict of interest if you handled it in any way."
You looked down at your boots. "What was it like?"
She was silent for so long, you were afraid she wasn't going to tell you anything. When you turned toward your seat, she said, "It was hard to listen to. Your husband is a good person."
You kept your eyes on your workstation. "He didn't even tell me anything about it until last night."
"He didn't come running home from his deployment and tell you that he's actually a hero? Again? Bickel told me he seems to have a good head on his shoulders."
"No," you whispered, closing your eyes. "He came home and told me we'd talk about it later, because he missed me too much. And then he was good to me all weekend." Good was an understatement. But you did miss your French press.
"You know," Cat replied with a smile in her voice, "it is really hard not to hate you."
You turned to look at her over your shoulder. Maybe she figured you knew about Jake, and maybe she didn't, but you said, "You should reschedule your movie date."
The smile was gone from her face and her voice. "I think yesterday was a wakeup call. And canceling on Jake was probably in my best interest after all. I don't know what I was thinking when-"
"Stop making poor decisions," you snapped. "He found a kid-friendly restaurant, for fuck's sake. What more could you possibly want in a guy?"
"Nothing," she whispered.
Then you plugged your computer in and said, "Thank you for telling me about the comms. And thank you for staying late. And thank you for not leaving me alone to finish the proposals today. But for the love of god, Cat, reschedule the movie, okay?"
---------------------------
Bradley was expecting you to meet him for lunch in the cafeteria. He even managed to secure the table where you and he were sitting the first time he asked you out. Which was just going to be the cherry on top of his plans for the day.
Mav let him read the official court-martial documentation along with Nat and Bob. And then he had taken the time to write an official statement. And in about a month, he'd have to appear as a witness to what happened. The sad part was, it all seemed very cut and dry since this wasn't the first time Admiral Dean had shown unjust favoritism. Maybe you were on to something about why Bradley had been selected as the spare.
He heard your laugh before he saw you. It was that beautiful, overjoyed sound that was usually reserved just for him. In fact, he heard it last night when he had you underneath him on the bathroom floor, running his mustache along your pristine skin. But right now you had it aimed at his best friend, and he didn't really mind. You were hugging Nat like you were afraid she was going to vanish into thin air, and when you released her, Bradley watched you press a kiss to Bob's cheek before hugging him just as tight. Your cheek was pressed to Bob's chest when you met Bradley's gaze from a few tables away, and you smiled at him. Then you were headed his way.
"I got you a burrito bowl," he said, even though you could plainly see he had two on his tray. And instead of sitting down across from him, you took the chair right next to his and wrapped your hands around his bicep.
"Roo, do you want to go up to the hot sauce restaurant after work on Friday? Maybe recreate our first date? But instead of me not giving you a handjob on the pier, I totally could."
Bradley's jaw dropped. You somehow read his mind. You took his idea about getting back to basics in your relationship and made it both romantic and also horny enough that he felt a little uncomfortable in his uniform pants. And you had the nerve to sit there and look sweet and innocent as you squeezed a little packet of hot sauce onto your lunch.
"I was going to suggest the same thing," he rasped softly. "Minus the handjob. But I'm definitely down for the inclusion of the handjob."
You just smiled at him as you took a bite of your lunch, and your hand came to rest on his thigh. This was going to be a long week.
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Need that first date reenactment to happen. And I love how the notebook has become a bedtime staple for them. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32
PART 16
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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster fanfiction#rooster x reader#rooster x you#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster x reader#rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw fic#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#always ever only you
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AFFIRMATIONS THAT WORK LIKE MAGIC
I'm permanently that version of myself who has it all.
I think from the state of having it all right now.
I act from the state of having it all.
My spirit is free. I can have and do ANYTHING. My ego can't even hold me back.
I have it all right now because I said so.
My state of consciousness is that I already have it all.
Limitations who? That don't apply to me. I identify as a limitless powerful being.
I love how I'm always in the state of the wish-fulfilled.
Doubts are so silly I don't let that get in my way. I'm unstoppable af
I am infinitely abundant and magnetic.
I am connected to everything, I AM everything.
I think, walk, and act like all my wishes are already fulfilled bc they are.
I am inherently a powerful magical being.
I AM fearless, there's nothing that can hold me back. I fiercely take what I want and own it
I get what I want everytime, no doubt about that, that's just how it is. Life is rigged in my favor.
I completely embody the state of the wish-fulfilled like it's my only true reality.
I already have it all right now regardless of anything and everything.
It's all already mine, I'm so grateful.
Everything is working in my favor, I can feel it.
I claim and call all my power back to me now.
I'm the one who has it all, I'm the luckiest.
In my reality, anything is possible bc I said so.
I'm the embodiment of infinite love, beauty and abundance.
I FEEL like I have it all already and I do!
I have innate trust and confidence in my ability to manifest literally ANYTHING.
Desired everything? I already got it.
I don't need to do anything to get what I want, it comes to me on its own.
My self concept is so great that I never chase or desire anything bc I already have it all.
I AM already that perfect ideal version of myself, I don't have to try to be anything.
My state of being is fulfilled, whole and complete.
I claim it NOW and forever.
#neville goddard#self concept affirmations#law of assumption#lawofassumption#manifestation#powerful affirmations#self love affirmations#beauty affirmations#master manifestor#creator of my reality#Lao affirmations#lao blog#Lao vaunts#vaunts & affirmations#void state#nondualism#wish fulfillment#success story#subliminal results#comfidence affirmations#consciousness#spirituality#law of abundance#law of manifestation#higher self#selflove affirmations#selflove#Shifting#Desired reality#Scripting
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Lil’ Crush (Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem Hairstylist Reader)
SYNOPSIS: Lewis has a huge crush on his hairstylist.
PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!fem hairstylist reader (Y/N)
WARNINGS: cursing, slow burn at first, obvious sexual tension, sexual content. RATED R (minors DNI/18+)
TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1
A/N: Just something cutesy/nasty to hold everyone over as I take a step back from writing 🤗
Lewis tolerated your occasional tardiness at appointments, despite his dislike for waiting on others. Time and time again, you apologized, citing car troubles or traffic or double booking as the reason. But Lewis didn't mind; all that mattered was that you always showed up and delivered exceptional work.
You were skillful at your job, always in a chipper mood, explorative, and knowledgeable about your craft. You taught him the basics on how to take proper care of his hair, telling him what products to use for his specific hair pattern. You were licensed, a continuous learner of the industry, but most of all you weren’t afraid to put him in his place.
Although he hated to admit it, he enjoyed how straightforward you were, telling him off and letting him know that all of his championships, his celebrity, you couldn’t care less about it. Now, if that was anyone else, of course that will be the last time they will be within his inner circle, yet it was you.
They dubbed you “Lewis’ girl”, not meant disrespectfully but because there were rumors that Lewis forbids anyone else from pursuing you. He would never admit it openly, but you were special to him - his confidante. And he wasn't willing to let anyone else have you.
It wasn't possessiveness, just a desire to keep you all to himself. So he came up with a plan, vowing to be honest with himself and stop playing games. But knowing Lewis, it would probably take a while.
Until then, he continued pining - casual flirting here and there that goes under your radar, small gifts, giving you his undivided attention. The works. It was you after all.
Once again, you joined Lewis for another race weekend. Despite your growing fame and clientele, you made sure to schedule around Lewis's busy racing schedule. He always spoke highly of you and his fans loved every hairstyle you created for him since becoming his permanent hairstylist toward the end of last season.
Lewis only gave you the best: from hair tools to flights and hotel rooms, whatever you needed, you received it. After all, you were his girl.
Another race in another country. This time you found yourself in Japan. A first time for you whereas a countless number for him. Lewis flew you out first class and booked you a suite with a view. It was your first time, so you had to have a great experience.
Your hair was in its natural state, perfect spiral curls from your flexi rod set. Lewis loved your hair like this, how it framed your face beautifully and reflected your personality. You were always experimenting with different styles - silk presses, bohemian braids, wigs - and they all worked flawlessly. Despite claiming to not be into fashion as much as Lewis, he couldn't help but compliment your impeccable outfits.
You were in your own world, moving around freely as you listened to a song from one of your many playlists. You just finished washing his hair and was now in the midst of detangling his curls before blow-drying.
Lewis had always prided himself on being a disciplined and focused athlete, but when it came to you, he was powerless. Every time he saw you, his heart raced and his mind went into overdrive, imagining all the ways he could make you moan and scream his name, especially with the outfit that you wearing.
He had a preference for skirts over pants on you, admiring how they showed off your long legs despite being a few inches shorter than him. Your ass looked amazing whether you wore pants or skirts, but there was something about you in a skirt that drove him wild with desire. Many nights, he dreamt of bending you over, reveling in how the skirt would rise up to reveal your thighs and perfect backside. He imagined taking you from behind, delivering mind-blowing thrusts and relishing in the sounds you made when you were near climax. You bent over in a skirt, wet and willing for him - it was one of his favorite fantasies. Another was listening to your sultry voice praising him, a kink he didn't know he had until you comforted him after a tough race. As you paused in the middle of braiding his hair to hold him close and speak softly, it aroused him more than he'd like to admit.
The sight of you in that skirt today distracted him like no other. The way the fabric clung to your thighs, subtly emphasizing your hips and drawing attention to the gentle curve of your waist, was nothing short of intoxicating. He could have spent hours just watching you move, the hem of the skirt brushing against your calves as you walked, offering fleeting glimpses of skin that sent a shiver through him. But he knew he had to control himself, or risk losing all restraint and giving into his desires right then and there.
Lewis sat in his seat, stealing glances at you and attempting to distract himself from thoughts of confessing his feelings. He had been keeping them hidden for months, fearing that revealing them would destroy the strong bond of friendship that had grown between you over the past year. Before meeting you, Lewis was known as guarded by his close friends and family, but your presence had slowly broken down the barriers he had constructed after his breakup with his ex.
“Any ideas on what you want to get done today, or are you open to trying something new?” you ask as you part his hair into four neat sections.
Lewis winces as the comb glides through his tight coils, causing him to shift in his seat and prompting you to gently guide him back.
So tender-headed, you thought to yourself. But it was always worth it for the end result - styling Lewis' hair was one of your favorite things to do. You talked about everything and nothing - work, family, hobbies - and each time, Lewis opened up a little more. Plus, he was easy on the eyes.
He hummed thoughtfully before answering, "Hmm, let's go with the usual fade on the sides and maybe some blonde in the braids."
"Okay, I see you, Lew Lew," you exclaimed, causing him to chuckle.
As you worked on his hair, Lewis couldn't help but admire your skill and grace. You had always been artistic and creative, but watching you braid his hair was simply mesmerizing.
"How's it looking so far?" you asked, holding up a mirror for him to inspect the back of his head.
Lewis tilted his head to the side, admiring your handiwork. "Perfect as always," he replied with a smile.
"Good," you said with a satisfied nod before returning to braiding.
"So how have things been going for you lately?" He asks, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.
You pause for a moment before replying, "Pretty good actually. I've been busy with work. I got a lot of new clients."
"That's great to hear," Lewis smiles warmly at you. "You deserve all the success that's coming your way."
Your heart flutters at his words and you feel a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. Lewis often showed such overt affection towards you, but it still made you giddy.
"Thanks," you reply with a shy smile. "And what about you? How's everything been since your last race?"
Lewis hesitates for a moment before answering, "It's been...strange. But good." He reaches up to rub at his neck nervously. "I've been feeling different lately. I was in a sour mood about the car this season, but I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of the races."
"As you should, King," you say, making him grin widely. Lewis closed his eyes in relaxation as you worked on him, massaging oil into his scalp as you continued to section off his hair. He enjoyed feeling your hands on him, how gentle you were. "Don't fall asleep on me now," you reply with a laugh as you catch him dozing off.
"I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes," he responded, trying to play it cool.
"Mmmhmm," you said skeptically, remembering the last time he had said that and ended up snoring away. "You said that last time and your ass was out like a light."
Lewis chuckled sheepishly. "Well, don't be so good at your job," he teased playfully.
"Bye, Lewis," you quipped in a dismissive tone, rolling your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere,” you shoot back with a wink before continuing to massage his scalp.
After a few minutes, you finish applying the hair oil and begin braiding the remaining sections of Lewis' hair. You work quickly and efficiently, your hands moving in sync as if they were made for this very task.
"You never cease to amaze me with your skills," he says sincerely.
"Well, I have a pretty amazing canvas to work on," you reply with a smile, referring to Lewis' hair.
He chuckles before getting serious again. "But seriously though, thank you for always taking care of me."
You pause in your braiding and look at him with concern. "Of course Lewis. You know I'm always here for you."
"I do know that," he says softly patting your arm.
Your heart races at the intimacy of the gesture. Lewis clears his throat and sits straighter in the chair.
"Alright, enough of that," he says, "what are your plans for the week?"
"Well, I was going to hang out here for another day or so then head back home to rest before I travel for another client."
"What do you mean 'stay for a day or so'?" Lewis asked incredulously. "Y/N, the suite is reserved until the end of the week. This is your first time in Japan; don't leave so soon."
I want to spend more time with you, Lewis thought to himself. But he couldn't express those feelings out loud, at least not yet.
"I have to rest, Lew," you stated, trying to sound firm.
"You can rest here," was his response, making you frown slightly. Although you didn't mind spending more time with Lewis, you didn't want to intrude on his personal space.
"What are you trying to do, convince me to stay longer so that you can bother me?" you teased half-heartedly, trying to hide your true feelings.
Lewis chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just don't want you to miss out on all that Japan has to offer. Plus, I would love for you to experience it with me."
His words tug at your heartstrings. You couldn't resist that charming smile and pleading look in his eyes.
"Fine," you finally relent with a smile. "But only if you promise not to bother me too much."
"Deal," he says with a grin before pulling out his phone. "I’m texting the guys now to tell them that you’re coming with us to dinner."
"Of course you are," you say as you finish up the last braid and give it a final spritz of hairspray. "All done."
Lewis rises from the chair and swivels around to face a mirror, examining his new hairstyle with a satisfied grin before turning his attention towards you. "Looks amazing."
"It was my pleasure," you reply with a warm smile.
The moment feels charged with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you both just stand there looking at each other until Lewis’ phone dinged with a text.
He checks the message and his grin widens. "It’s Miles," he informed you. "Looks like they're already waiting for us at the restaurant. You good to go?"
You glanced down at your outfit. You freshened up earlier and was currently wearing a mini cargo skirt and a black bodysuit. Simple yet stylish nonetheless. You nod, gathering your purse and other necessities then slipped into a pair of heels. You followed Lewis out of the suite and into the elevator. The ride down was quiet, but you can feel Lewis' gaze on you, making you shift slightly under his scrutiny.
As soon as the elevator doors open, Lewis leads you through the hotel lobby to one of the hotel’s restaurants.
Lewis fills you in on some interesting facts about Japan and its culture as you walk to your table. You find yourself hanging on to every word he says, enjoying not only his knowledge but also his company.
The rest of the guys are already seated, chatting animatedly amongst themselves.
Miles jumps up from his seat when he sees Lewis and rushes over to give him a hug. "Hey, bruv! Glad you could make it," he says before turning to face you with a warm smile. "Y/N, how are you babygirl? Looking as gorgeous as ever."
"I’m doing great." You greeted Lewis' best friend with a warm smile and leaned in for a hug. The embrace lingers longer than you expected, with Miles holding onto you tightly before finally pulling away. You don't think anything of it, as Miles is just as, if not more, flirtatious than Lewis. However, you can't help but notice Lewis's scowl from the corner of your eye. You then greeted Andrew and Tim, engaging in light conversation with them.
"Seriously, cut it out," Lewis whispered to Miles as he watched you talking to his friends.
Miles looked confused. "I just said hi, I can still talk to Y/N, right?"
"It's not about that, man. Just tone down the hugging and all that." Lewis was trying to keep his jealousy in check, but he didn't appreciate Miles being too touchy-feely. Miles was a hugger by nature, but sometimes he could be excessive.
"Relax, bruv," Miles said quietly so only Lewis could hear. "You need to be honest with her and stop messing around. If you keep dragging your feet, you'll end up losing her to someone else."
"But she--"
"Lew, are we going to eat or are you two going to have a private conversation all night?" you interrupted playfully, causing Andrew and Tim to laugh.
Miles nudged Lewis towards the booth. "Go sit next to your girl and quit being a dickhead."
Lewis chuckled and playfully swatted him away before doing as he was told and sitting next to you. He placed an arm around the length of the seat, engulfing you with his closeness and the addictive smell of his cologne. "Get whatever you want, Y/N."
"Oh okay, big spender," you say as you peruse the menu, your eyes stopping at the wagyu. "What if I want this?"
Lewis made a face of disgust at your choice. "You know how I feel about meat, but if you want it, you can have it."
Smiling mischievously, you pointed out another expensive option. "And this too?"
Lewis shrugged. "Anything you want."
You raise an eyebrow at him and put the menu down. "Are you sure? Because I can keep going."
Lewis laughs, knowing exactly what you’re doing. "Okay, okay. Let’s not bankrupt me. You can get things within reason. I don’t want you to become a little brat."
"I’m almost there with the way you’ve been spoiling me lately," you said. "I mean, who flies out their hair braider in first class?"
Lewis chuckled as he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Well, I can't have my girl flying in economy."
"Your girl?" you scoff, rolling your eyes as you continue playing the game with him. Lewis has always been a flirt, and sometimes the two of you engage in playful banter, but it never goes beyond that. A small part of you can't help but wonder if all the rumors about him being great in bed are true, and the thought briefly crosses your mind to take things further. However, your professionalism always took precedence, and you kept a decorum between the two of you. "So what’re you? My Sugar Daddy?"
"If that's what you want, I can definitely make it happen." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, causing you to laugh and shake your head.
"You wish," you teased, knowing that Lewis was not one to shy away from spending money on those he cared about.
The conversation continued to flow easily between the two of you, with Miles and the others occasionally interjecting with their own comments and jokes. You couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos and hectic schedule of race weekends.
As the night went on and dinner came to an end, Lewis insisted on paying for everything before escorting you out of the restaurant.
"Thanks for dinner," you said sincerely as Lewis walked you back to your suite. "I had a great time."
Lewis smiled warmly at you as he watched you open the door. "Anytime, Y/N. Can’t have my girl out here starving."
"There you go with the 'my girl' bullshit," you say. "I bet you say that to every woman you’re around."
"Nah," he replied. "Only to you. You’re my girl."
You gave him a quick examination, noting how his frame filled out his clothes. He appeared to have bulked up since the last time you saw him; clearly, he had been spending some serious time in the weight room. You were fully aware of Lewis' reputation as a womanizer and didn't want to be just another conquest, yet you couldn't deny his attractiveness. And with him staring at you with such intense focus, you felt yourself on the verge of giving in to temptation.
"Why are you so quiet?" he asked you, pulling you out of your reverie.
"Honest answer?"
“Of course.”
"Just admiring you," you boldly stated, catching him a bit off-guard. "I’m surprised that you never tried anything with me. I mean, we flirt, but it never ends in anything."
Lewis looked at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, his eyes searching yours for any sign of jest, but the serious expression on your face told him otherwise.
"Well, to be honest," he began, "I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You’re my hairstylist and I respect you."
"Is that all it is? Respect?" you inquired, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of your voice.
Lewis hesitated for a moment before reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course not," he said softly. "I think you're an amazing person. It's just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward between us."
"We're grown adults," you told him. "Trust me, I wouldn't be even considering this if I thought it was going to fuck up everything."
Lewis searched your face for any signs of hesitation or doubt, before finally nodding in understanding. "I know…and you have no idea how much…fuck Y/N…you have no idea how bad I want you."
"Then show me," you challenged.
Without hesitation, Lewis leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss. The passion and desire between you two was palpable as his hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer to him. You eagerly responded, your own hands roaming over his muscular frame, feeling every inch of him.
After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away slightly, both of you gasping for air. "Wow," you breathed out, looking into Lewis' dark eyes.
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice low and husky. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time." Lewis rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "Let's take this somewhere more private."
Nodding in agreement, you grabbed his hand and led him inside your suite, shutting the door behind you.
Once inside, there was no slowing down. He lifted you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed before crawling on top of you. His lips found yours again as his hands continued to explore every inch of your body. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed and nipped at your neck, sending shivers down your spine.
Lewis' hands traveled down to your hips where he began to unzip your skirt. "You don't understand how bad I wanted to do this, especially with how you kept teasing me with these fuckin' skirts," he groaned, tossing the skirt aside before trailing kisses down your chest.
You let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as his hands found their way under your shirt before he removed it and the bra you wore. His touch was electric, sending sparks through your body and igniting a fire within you. You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to leave a path of kisses down your body, finally reaching the waistband of your panties.
He looked up at you with dark eyes filled with desire and need before sliding them off of you. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his intense gaze, but he leaned in to press a soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way to your womanhood.
"Look at how wet this pussy is for me," he commented as he glanced at your glistening mound. "You’ve been craving a nigga badly, huh?"
You couldn't even form a coherent response as Lewis dipped his head between your legs, his tongue expertly finding all the right spots and sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You moaned and writhed under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.
When you finally came undone, it was with a loud cry of his name. He didn't stop there though, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive folds until you were begging him to stop.
"You taste so good," he murmured, licking his lips before crawling back up to kiss you again.
You could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh and couldn't wait any longer. You reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stopped you, shaking his head.
"So impatient," he whispered against your lips.
"Shut up," was your response, making him chuckle. He stood up from the bed and quickly undressed himself before returning to hover over you.
"Tell me what you want," he demanded, positioning himself at your entrance.
"I want you inside me," you moaned without hesitation.
Lewis didn't waste any time thrusting into you in one smooth motion. The feeling of being filled by him was almost overwhelming as he started moving in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him on as your nails dug into his back. He groaned as he felt your tight walls clenching around him. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He had imagined it a thousand times in his head, but nothing could compare to the real thing.
Lewis started moving faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your moans and whimpers only spurred him on as he chased his own pleasure.
You couldn't believe how good it felt. You had been with other guys before, but none of them could compare to Lewis. He seemed to know exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel like you were on cloud nine.
"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "So fucking wet."
He leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while still pleasuring you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting to feel even closer to him. The intensity was building inside you and you knew you were close to another climax.
Lewis must have sensed it too because he reached between your bodies to rub your clit while still thrusting into you and sucking your nipples. It was too much and you screamed his name as you came undone again, your body shaking with pleasure.
He followed closely after, his hips stuttering before finally stilling as he spilled himself inside of you.
You both stayed in that position for a few moments, catching your breaths and enjoying the afterglow of sex. Lewis rolled off of you eventually and pulled you close against his chest.
"Damn," he murmured into your hair. "That was amazing."
You smiled contentedly, feeling more connected to him than ever before.
"I can't believe I waited this long," he continued, placing soft kisses along your forehead. "I should have made a move on you ages ago."
You laughed softly and snuggled closer to him.
"Well I'm glad you finally did," you replied, feeling completely happy and satisfied in that moment.
The two of you spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other, talking and laughing until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Lewis moving around. You stretched and smiled, feeling content and at peace.
"Good morning," Lewis said, walking into the bedroom with a mug of coffee. He handed it to you before sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Morning," you replied, taking a sip of the hot drink. "Thank you for this."
He grinned. "Anything for my girl."
Your heart fluttered at his words, still not quite used to hearing him call you that, but it felt right and it made you smile even more.
Part Two, anyone? Let me know in the comments.
#emjayewrites#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton fanfic#sir lewis hamilton x black!reader#lewis hamilton x black reader#lewis hamilton x black oc#f1 x black!reader#formula one!black reader#formula one fanfiction#lewis hamilton fanfiction
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