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gurugirl · 2 months

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ex-boyfriend's dad!harry part 1

Summary: After you break up with your boyfriend, his dad, Harry, stops by your apartment to drop off a few of your things. But that's not all he's there to bring you.

A/N: This full series is already live on Patreon, with all 4 parts up! Part 2 will be posted here in one week.

Word Count: 8.17k

Series Warnings: explicit content, smut (including anal, rough blow jobs), age gap, angst, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, choking, slight degradation, use of small implements (collar and leash, anal plug)

Part 1 Warnings: angst, slight inappropriate moment between you & Harry at the beginning featuring skinny dipping and subtle flirting

Ex-boyfriend's Dad masterlist

. . .

You didn’t know what had gotten into you. Skinny dipping in the pool at midnight under the stars. Well, you did know, actually. Two bottles of Italian red wine. That and your boyfriend’s dad, Harry, encouraging you. You were both at least two bottles in.

You’d been dating Tyler for nearly two years, and so Harry told Tyler to invite you to come along to their yearly vacation in Lombardy, Italy. The Style’s family owned a small villa in the hills and Harry made it a point to take a couple of weeks there every year.

So you were honored and more than excited when he invited you. Of course, you weren’t going to miss it.

And now you’d been in Lombardy for 5 days and Tyler went to bed a little early on this particular evening while you and his dad stayed outside on the patio overlooking the lighted pool drinking bottles of wine and talking about relationship things that may or may not have ebbed into very slightly inappropriate territory. But you’d think about all that later on.

Because here you were swimming buck naked with your boyfriend’s very handsome dad. You didn’t peek (not really) when he dove in with a big, dimpled smile after you slid in quickly with a squeal and he laughed with his back turned and a promise he wouldn’t look.

Because here you were taking another pour of wine with him and clinking glasses while you laughed. Wearing nothing. With your boyfriend’s very very handsome dad.

Of course, it was difficult to see fully what was going on under the reflection of the water. But you did notice a few things about Harry. About your boyfriend’s dad. One was that he had way more tattoos than you originally realized. You knew he had tattoos on his arms and you’d seen peeks on his chest before. But with him completely naked you saw a lot more. And you could tell he had a tattoo on his left thigh – something large. There were also tattoos on his hips, both sides. But more than that, you couldn’t help to notice the dark patch at his crotch and the floating thing attached to said dark patch, which you were sure was his dick. Obviously.

But you didn’t stare too hard. Well, you tried not to look anyway.

You tried keeping your tits under the surface of the water as well but every time you bounced to get toward the edge of the pool they did make an appearance. You crossed your arm over your nipples as you reached for your glass and Harry laughed.

“I’m not looking. I swear!” He raised his arms and grinned.

“I mean it’s just in case,” you giggled before you took a big gulp from your glass.

Harry was swimming toward the far end of the pool away from you, his back muscles flexing with each stroke. The lights in the pool were illuminating every one of his movements, and yours too, you were sure, as you placed the glass down and plunged under the surface of the water to swim toward him.

It felt so freeing and light to swim naked. You’d never done it before and when Harry suggested it as a sort of dare you told him how you always wanted to and that’s how this all happened. You didn’t regret it even though you were sure Tyler wouldn’t appreciate it. But you were having fun.

Suddenly you felt Harry’s hand on your ankle as he pulled at you, causing you to twist under the water. You reached toward his hand just as he let go and then pushed your head out of the water with a gasp, “Hey!”

Harry laughed. He was already swimming toward the other side of the pool, away from you, “What? What happened?” He stopped and turned toward you, a look of faux concern on his face.

“What do you mean what?!” You pushed yourself off the wall to swim toward him, “You grabbed me!”

Harry watched you dog paddle toward him with a big smile on your pretty face. He was just trying to make you laugh. Liked hearing it. Liked seeing you smile. Because he had noticed how you weren’t quite as carefree around Tyler lately. He noticed how your demeanor had changed from what he used to know of you, and he’d even overheard an argument you and his son had just the night before. He was worried that you and Tyler were drifting apart. Though it wasn’t his business at all, he figured the least he could do was to make you smile. This was your vacation too.

“Nope. I’m over here,” he laughed, “Couldn’t have grabbed you. Must have been like one of those pool monsters or something.”

You laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the water and the trees all around. Harry smiled widely.

“You’re so cheesy, Harry,” you splashed water at him and clung to the edge of the pool.

Harry swam next to you and put his arm on the edge of the pool facing you, “Cheesy? How so?”

He was a bit close to you. Not that you minded. You trusted him but you didn’t trust yourself not to let your eyes wander. His chest was delectable and the muscles on his arms with his tattoos… his jawline.

You cleared your throat before smiling, “Pool monster?”

Harry laughed and nodded, “Yes. Pool monster. There’s one that lives in this pool. Did you not know?”

You shook your head, “That’s what I mean. Cheesy. Such a dad thing to say even to a grown woman.”

“Oh you’re a grown woman are you?” Harry blew out a laugh through his nose as he kept his lagoon-green eyes on yours.

You splashed at him again but then Harry retaliated with a massive spray of water back in your direction. You had no idea how he did it, but it was like a bucket of water was thrown at you.

Gasping you let go of the edge of the pool and flailed in the water coughing. It was dramatic but you’d swallowed a big gulp of pool water and sucked in some through your nose.

You heard Harry laughing and then felt his hand on your sides to lead you toward the side of the pool, “Take it easy. Here, back to the edge. You okay?”

You put your arms over the side and coughed, momentarily forgetting your tits were out and about for anyone to see. For Harry to see.

Harry patted your back and then as you calmed you felt his palm smoothing up and down your spine, “Sorry, Y/n. Didn’t know you’d open your mouth up and take a gulp like that,” he laughed softly.

You smushed yourself to the edge and took a breath before looking at him, “You’re trying to drown me,” you chuckled.

He didn’t mean to look. He told himself to keep his eyes on your face but you were half out of the pool, your breasts pressed into the tiles and when his eyes lowered you saw it clear as day. But maybe a small part of you liked it. He quickly moved his gaze elsewhere and you smiled as you lowered yourself back under the surface.

“Really wasn’t. Just figured you’d be ready for splash retribution. You have to keep your guard up, Y/n. Rule number one of pool play,” he laughed and then finally looked back at you. Into your eyes this time.

“I’ll remember that from now on,” you grinned and then with all you had, cupped your hands and splashed him directly in his face before you swam away laughing as he thrashed in his spot.

You heard him let out a short cackle before you heard the water moving under him. He was swimming toward you quickly. And Harry was a much better swimmer than you so in only seconds he was grabbing your arm and then pulling at you to lift and fling you forward, all your bits out for him to see before you landed in the water with a splatter and a plop.

His laughter was contagious. You turned to him with your mouth dropped open in surprise but couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sorry, Y/n! Fuck…” he shook his head and smoothed his wet hair back, “Forgot we’re in our birthday suits,” he pulled his lips into his mouth, his elbow at the edge of the pool. You followed and hung on to the edge for a reprieve from needing to kick your feet and flap your arms for a moment.

“I guess that’s just part of pool play,” you laughed. Harry nodded, his dimples casting shadows into his cheeks.

You both took a sip from your glasses.

“You and Tyler had an argument last night,” Harry suddenly spoke what was on his mind, “Couldn’t help overhear it. Didn’t mean to but…” he shrugged.

You nodded before placing your glass along the tiles next to the pool, “Right. I mean, I know we were loud. We’ve been arguing a bit more lately. Sorry about that.”

“What’s wrong? Anything I can help with? Hate to know you two are having any problems.”

You smiled at him, “No. Nothing you can help with. We just sometimes don’t see eye to eye on certain things.”

Harry sat his wine glass down next to yours, “Like what?”

“Harry, I don’t know… it’s not something I think Tyler would want me to tell anyone.”

He laughed and began to backstroke away from you and then turned and swam back, “So don’t tell him you told me,” he licked his lips and you watched as his deep pink rose-colored lips quirked up.

You raised your brows and grinned back, “You can’t say anything. Swear to me,” you pointed.

Harry moved in closer, his eyes on you, “Of course, Y/n. I would never say anything.”

You believed him. Maybe it was because he had always given you the vibe that he was a good person to tell secrets to. Or maybe it was two bottles of wine making you more likely to gab.

“He… well he’s not super adventurous in bed,” you bit your lip and looked down at the water, of course noticing the fleshy bit swaying between his legs had you averting your eyes quickly to the edge of the pool.

“Oh?” Harry hadn’t expected you to say that. “Tell me more. Why did this turn into an argument?” He put his elbows on the edge of the pool as you moved to pick up your glass.

“Like…” you glanced at him and laughed as you shook your head, “I’m not gonna tell you everything but for example,” you placed your elbows over the edge, mimicking Harry, “I… you know, enjoy giving him blowjobs. But… he doesn’t want to like,” you looked down at the tile and laughed, “Oh my god I can’t believe I’m about to say this… he doesn’t want to thrust into my throat because he thinks it’ll hurt me.” You placed your face into your hands and chuckled.

You turned to look at Harry slowly only to find a soft grin on his face, “And? Why did this turn into an argument?”

Swallowing down your saliva you decided to just drop the bigger bomb because none of it made sense without that big detail and, well, you were two bottles of red deep so why the hell not?

“He never returns the favor,” you watched his eyes widen.

“What? He doesn’t? Like ever? Ever?” The look of horror on his face was almost comical. But it definitely matched your own feelings about the whole thing.

You shook your head, “So, sometimes he does. But he’s only down there when I beg him and then it’s for two minutes tops and it’s awful. He hates doing it and it makes me feel awful about myself and he always reassures me but it’s so hard not to take personally because I am so excited to do it for him. I just don’t get why he doesn’t like it with me. And that just leads to us fighting."

Harry nodded, “Well I get why this would be an argument. And I can’t believe he doesn’t…” he shook his head, “I’m kind of surprised to hear this to be honest. Just,” he scratched his head and looked back toward the house where Tyler was probably fast asleep, “Don’t take it personally. I can guarantee it has nothing to do with you, Y/n.”

You took another sip of your wine and then pushed yourself off the wall to float back into the water, kicking your legs as you looked up at the sky, “But it’s okay I guess. Sex isn’t everything, right?”

Harry watched you float back toward the opposite side of the pool, “Right. That’s definitely true.” But while those words were true, Harry didn’t quite believe the deeper sentiment of it.

He swam toward you, taking two long side strokes, and dunked his head under the water. You lowered your legs to float upright when you felt the ripples just as he popped out in front of you, wet hair flopping over his forehead before he took his hand and ran it into his hair to push it back.

“We probably shouldn’t tell him that we did this,” you spoke as you watched Harry’s chest drip with water.

“Wasn’t planning on it. It’ll be our secret.”

That dimpled grin again made you grin in return.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you laughed.

Harry lifted his arms from the water, “What? You said you’d never done it and that you wanted to?” He laughed.

“I did. It’s actually really fun.”

“Isn’t it?”

You nodded and glanced at the house and back to Harry. The quiet was making you feel something. Not quite nervous, but definitely something that had your skin rising with goosebumps, and your heart rate increasing. It could have been Harry’s eyes on you. The warmth you felt on your spine when you thought about how you two were both naked and that he’d most definitely seen your breasts when he flung you out of the water. His hands pinched into your thighs as he pushed you upward, which meant he probably had also seen your bottom, perhaps more.

But somehow he didn’t make you feel like you should be ashamed or embarrassed. It was quite refreshing to be around Harry. Even if you were nude and it was probably inappropriate to be doing such a thing with the father of the man you were intimately involved with. Even still, with Harry, it felt honest and natural.

“Harry, this might be one of the best nights I’ve ever had. Seriously. Thank you for having Ty invite me. This feels really special to be here in Lombardy.”

“I’m glad you could come. Honestly, I love Tyler but he’s not nearly as much fun as you.”

You chuckled softly as you looked up at the dark sky, clinging to the edge of the pool. When you kicked, your leg slid against Harry’s. You could feel the solid warmth of his shin and the virile hair that tickled your skin.

“Oh. Believe me. I know I’m way more fun than he is,” you spoke the words as a joke but both you and Harry knew that you were saying something a bit bawdy regarding Tyler’s prudishness.

You gazed at the night sky, the stars bright and flickering in and out of existence before your eyes. Every now and then Harry’s leg would bump against yours but you liked it. Neither of you would do anything to stop the subtle and innocent brushes of skin.

“Isn’t it wild how right now, as we’re looking up at the stars that some of them are already burned out, while others are coming to life and being born right before our eyes? But they’re light years away so we have no idea of the magic that’s taking place.” You spoke quietly.

You could see in your peripheral that Harry had turned his head to look at you, “We’re just at the mercy of the universe, Y/n. Me, you, and everyone else here. It’s beautiful and exciting, isn’t it?”

You smiled, keeping your gaze upward, “I love that. Just as the mercy of the universe,” you turned to look at him as your leg floated against his, “It’s beautiful.”

. . .

“So then you are cheating on me!”

You shook your head and pinched the bridge of your nose. Tyler was always jealous. Always worried you were cheating on him somehow. He didn’t trust you. And that made you not trust him.

“This is a great example of why I’m breaking up with you. You always accuse me of cheating on you, yet… I have never and would never! It’s such an insult! You just don’t get it, Ty!”

He put his hands on his hips and laughed coldly as he paced around you, “Something is up. I don’t buy that you just suddenly want to dump me. We’ve been together for almost two years. Why now if it’s not because of someone else?”

Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms over your chest, “Something is up! But it’s not because I’ve been cheating. Fucking Christ you’re insecure.” You sat down on the couch in your two-bedroom apartment. You were glad your roommate was not there. “You and I just… we’re not good together I don’t think. At first, it was good, Ty… So good. But… when I opened up to you and told you what I like, what I wanted to try… you made me feel like a cheap slut. Like my request was unreasonable and how you said you would never look at me the same again… and I don’t know,” you put your head in your hands and looked down at your knees, “You’re not willing to meet me in the middle at all and I just think that it’s a deal breaker.”

“A dealbreaker because I won’t spank you like you want to be spanked? It’s so weird, Y/n! How can I feel good about hitting you?”

“Yes, actually it is a dealbreaker. Because you don’t have to beat me. Just spank me with an open palm. And not only that, you don’t like going down on me, yet I give you half-hour-long blow jobs and I fucking love it. Why don’t you reciprocate?” You shook your head and held your hand up, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter why you don’t, it’s over. This is over.”

“You’re shallow. You always have been. You were just with me because I have money and could buy you whatever you wanted. And I did. But now you’re done and on to the next thing. I know you, Y/n. You forget.” He stepped toward you as he pointed his thumb at his chest, “I put up with it for so long because I actually loved you. And I still do. I could overlook it all. Everything you’ve done I’d just forgive you because I love you. Knowing you would break up with me for this just proves to me you’re lying. Just remember that,” he pointed at you with his brows raised in warning, “That I loved you despite the fact that you lied to me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. His stupid words made you lose it. You leaned forward and your body shook from how hard you’d begun to laugh until you cackled in loud guffaws like an idiot. Tears poured from your eyes as you tried to stand up and compose yourself but you couldn’t stop the scene you were making. It was one of those fits of laughter that make it look like you’re crying because your face was scrunched up and big wet tears were pouring from your eyes. And you tried to stop but it was so hard to calm yourself that you only got even more wound up trying to stop and the whole thing started all over again.

Yeah. That’s what was going on when you broke up with Tyler Styles. Your boyfriend of almost 2 years. You were laughing uncontrollably after his usual bullshit spiel had pushed you over the edge. And you knew he believed his own bullshit and that just made it even funnier.

You loved him. From the beginning he was amazing. You two really got along well but then you started having sex regularly and things changed fast. When you two first started having sex it was infrequent due to your distance (you were away at a college in a different state) so when you could have sex it was wild and hot and it didn’t matter what sort of preferences either of you had. You didn’t care. You were getting to have sex. Good sex. And that’s all that mattered.

But then you moved back into your hometown to finish off the last year of college at home and you had access to Tyler every day. Then you got an apartment with a roommate and Tyler began staying with you and you two were going at it a lot more.

It was great. Until it wasn’t.

You also realized, during that year of being with him every single day, that he was insecure and manipulative. And that wound up turning into very insecure and manipulative after you told him you wanted to be choked a little. Wanted to be spanked. Wanted him to spit on you and in your mouth. Wanted him to rail you. Wanted to try anal.

You thought if you told him what you wanted things would get better in bed because, in all honesty, he wasn’t doing it for you anymore. Not that you didn’t love him and enjoy him. But he hardly ever ate you out, and you got bored of that same old thing. He didn’t seem to mind. He got to nut in you and roll over and go to sleep. Like you were an old married couple.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for you. You were too young to have underwhelming sex with a guy who thought less of you for liking the things you did. You just weren’t compatible anymore.

But what was worse? The way he didn’t trust you. The way he tried to make something that was his fault into your fault. The way he’d talk in circles and would never own up to his mistakes and point out what he felt you’d done wrong.

And of course, there were the questionable texts you found between him and your friend Yola just a few months before.

That was not your finest moment. You were tired of him accusing you of cheating or acting suspicious of you every time you went out with the girls and so you wondered if he was cheating on you. And the moment you and access to his phone after he drank himself into oblivion one night you went through it. You always swore you would never be one of those women to go through their boyfriend’s phone. But you were in the end. And while the texts between the two of them weren’t all that bad, you still had your guard up.

So you paid close attention to him and how he acted when she was around. You started checking his phone regularly. Started looking through his comment history on Reddit. Perusing his likes on Instagram.

You became what you never wanted. In the end, you never found anything incriminating. Which was a relief, of course, but even if he wasn’t cheating there was no more love there. You were done.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

Still laughing, you wiped your tears and stumbled dramatically, holding onto the wall between your couch and the front door. You’d just about had enough of him. “You–“ you hiccupped a laugh and wheezed as you bent forward to calm down. Sticking a finger up to indicate you needed a minute you shook your head and finally stood upright to look at him in the eyes, your breaths and bursts of giggles slowing, “You are so full of shit. Did you just hear yourself? I can’t handle the way you always minimize your own issues. Just…” you pointed at the door, “Leave. Okay? This is over.”

. . .

“She laughed in my face when I told her I loved her and that I would forgive her for cheating,” Tyler went home and cried to his dad about you breaking up with him.

“She was cheating on you?” Harry raised his brow at Tyler who was slumped pathetically on the couch.

“Probably. I think so because she’s been interested in doing things in bed and I can’t figure out why. It’s gross.”

Harry sat down and draped his ankle over his knee, “What’s gross? I’m confused about what happened?”

“She’s a bitch. She was using me–“

“Whoa, hold on there. Watch how you talk about her. You were with her for almost 2 years. Don’t say that about Y/n.”

Tyler sat up straight and looked at his dad, “But her reasons for breaking up with me are so shallow. I’m not pleasing her in bed? Because I won’t choke her or spit in her mouth? It’s like she turned into a different person. I think she must have been seeing someone else because she broke up with me over it.”

Harry nodded wondering what could be so bad about any of that. But of course, he enjoyed a little bit of rough sex himself. He was surprised Tyler seemed so put off by it. But after learning what you had told him that night in Lombardy, he figured this shouldn’t be too big of a surprise.

His son didn’t even like to eat pussy. If Tyler didn’t look almost exactly like him, he’d wonder if this was even his son. Because Harry liked all kinds of kinky shit in bed.

“So she wanted to try some kinkier things with you. Did you try any of it with her?”

“You don’t even know the half of it, Dad,” Tyler shook his head, “Anal sex too. I mean… what woman wants that? I don’t know. Maybe she was addicted to porn or something.”

Harry swallowed thickly and looked toward the window for a moment in thought as his back heated up at that comment. Anal sex. He tried not to imagine you in that way but it was hard. He’d already gone down that tricky little road in his imagination after that night you both skinny-dipped together. He’d seen you completely naked. He hadn’t meant to look but when he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and pushed you out of the pool he slid his hand up to your bottom and your legs spread as you landed into the water and he saw it all. He’d lost his damn mind when he did it. It was like he was playing with a lover there for a moment and he’d forgotten you were his son’s girlfriend. Well, now ex.

“You didn’t answer my question. Did you try exploring with her at all? See what you might like?”

He shook his head, “I’m not going to choke and spit on someone I love. And anal?” He said the word as if it were disgusting, “It’s so weird. I don’t know what happened to her. She used to be so sweet.”

“I see. So it sounds like you two were no longer sexually compatible anymore and you’re just assuming she’s been cheating.”

“Are you taking her side on this? She broke my heart, Dad. We used to be so good together. It was perfect and then suddenly she just wants me to hit her and be rough with her? It doesn’t add up.”

Harry sighed and shook his head as he leaned his back into the couch cushion. He and Tyler had always been able to talk about anything and everything, which he was proud of. But he wondered if Tyler really saw the bigger picture about you and how important it was to be with someone you’re compatible with. Harry wasn’t going to tell his son what happened that night. The things you’d told him in confidence. And between what his son was telling him now and what you had told him before, he could tell Tyler wasn’t telling the whole story.

“Look. I know you’re upset and hurt but from what you’re telling me it doesn’t sound like you actually know if she was cheating or not. Right?”

“But what else explains her breaking up with me?”

“Tyler, for some people, it’s really important to be sexually compatible with your partner. That can be enough to end a relationship. When someone isn’t satisfied in bed anymore, it might lead to other issues as well.”

“But she used to be satisfied. Something changed. I just don’t know what.”

Harry really wanted to be supportive of his son. But the way he brushed off his lack of effort to make you happy did concern him. It felt like Tyler didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. And it seemed to make sense based on what he knew. Based on what you told him.

He thought back to that night with you in Italy.

He draped the towel over your shoulders as you crossed your arms to cover your chest, “You know I would understand if you felt that was enough to break up with Tyler over. Things like that can slowly erode a relationship from the inside out.”

When you’d clutched the towel safely in front of yourself you turned and shook your head, “It wouldn’t be just for things like that. He’s also really insecure. Always thinks I’m doing something I shouldn’t. He’s even accused me of cheating on him,” you rolled your eyes.

Harry already had his own towel wrapped around his waist, his bottom half fully covered from view, “Well that’s definitely something. If you don’t mind me asking…, why are you still dating him?”

You both began to walk toward the house, clutching your clothes in your hands, “Because it feels like such a waste if we just end it after 2 years, you know? I just want to be able to make it work with him. But I don’t know how much more I can take. I love him… it’s just hard.”

He nodded and put his arm over your shoulder to bring you in for a quick side hug before you walked into the house, “Just do what’s right for you, Y/n.”

. . .

You slept like a baby that night. You weren’t sure if it was because you’d finally had the guts to end it with Tyler or because you wore yourself out laughing like a madwoman. Either way, you realized how easy it was to be without him. How good it felt to be done with him. Relief.

You thought about Harry and his words to you, just do what’s right for you. And this was right. He had given you good advice.

The last time you saw him was when you parted ways at the airport after spending two weeks in Lombardy with him. And while Tyler was there, you both fought the whole time. Tyler was more like an afterthought on that trip to you. After the big fight that Harry overheard, you didn’t even sleep in the same bed with him. So you wound up spending a lot of time with Harry without Tyler around. It was fucking fantastic. Especially the night under the bright stars in that big pool telling each other secrets.

It was one of the best nights of your life. Harry was one of those men that were rare and truly kind and thoughtful. But he was handsome and charming as well. You’d always found Harry very attractive but you’d have never done anything with that attraction. Besides, you figured it was natural to find other people attractive. And not only that, the apple truly did not fall far from the tree in this case. Well, looks wise anyway.

Tyler was two inches taller than his father and a bit leaner, but he had the same brown wavy hair, green moony eyes, and raspberry-pink lips. Harry’s voice was deeper with more baritone but they did sound similar in some ways. Once you thought Tyler was talking to you until you heard him say your name, and then you knew it was Harry (you had your back turned). Harry said your name in a way that made your neck prickle with heat.

But as much as they looked alike physically, that’s basically where their similarities ended. Where Tyler was insecure, his dad was confident. Where Harry could laugh off a mistake, his son would explode and get red in the face and blame the nearest person for the problem even when it was something small. You could go on but it was useless to dwell on it. The truth was Tyler was nothing like Harry in the ways that mattered.

You didn’t want to think about Harry the way you had been. But it was hard not to. The way he handled himself and didn’t sweat the small things… how mature and understanding he was. How he didn’t get embarrassed easily and that allowed him to be more vulnerable and honest.

And all of that combined with his sturdy, masculine body and the more mature features on his face… Harry was indeed more physically attractive as well. Sure Tyler looked so much like him it was uncanny, but Tyler’s more youthful body and face were lacking something for you.

You’d never really been into older men. Harry was the exception to this. And you only allowed yourself to really see it on your Italian vacation with him.

You felt like you’d miss him more than Tyler. That was the only thing that really sucked about the breakup. Not seeing Harry again.

But it turned out, you would be seeing him again. Because two weeks later when you got a dm from Harry you were quite surprised. In fact, you’d just been thinking of him as you were settling into your bed. It was nearly midnight. It had become routine for you to think about him throughout your day. Especially at night. Maybe inappropriate but you were single and Harry Styles was very good fantasy material.

Hey. Hope you’re doing well. I have a box of your things and thought I could stop by tomorrow afternoon to drop it off if that’s good with you.

And you didn’t know exactly why you did it, why you suggested having him stop by on a night when your roommate was out of town instead, but you did. Maybe you were just feeling him out. Testing the waters so to speak.

You were certainly curious about what could happen if you and Harry were alone with no major consequences to hinder something from happening… you were both single and you had been severely neglected in bed. And something told you Harry would give you what you’d been seeking. That is if he were interested. It was a stretch to think he’d do anything. You were his son’s ex after all. It would be quite scandalous.

It was silly, you knew it was. But when he said he could come over at the newly arranged date and time, somehow it made you feel like you’d just set up your first date since breaking up with Tyler.

It wasn’t a date. No, you needed to get that silly notion out of your mind. Harry would be cordial and warm with you. You actually couldn’t imagine anything much happening in reality.

Yet here you were, an hour before he was due to arrive, making sure your skin was smooth and applying a pretty-smelling lotion all over your limbs. You’d even picked out an outfit. Something that wouldn’t make it look like you were trying too hard but that was just cute enough for him to hopefully notice. It was just a regular Thursday night after all. Well, it was supposed to be.

You could admit you were looking forward to seeing him again. Even if nothing came of it. Even if he just dropped off the box of your things and you handed him Tyler’s stuff and he hugged you and said goodbye… well. That would be okay. Disappointing but the more likely scenario.

When you heard the buzzer go off your heart rate picked up and you felt shaky as you ran to your front door to hit the button to let him inside the building. Your head was filled with images of what you’d imagined the night before but you pushed it down the best you could as you swallowed and took a deep breath.

None of that, Y/n.

The knock at your door came faster than you thought it would as you jumped and clutched your hand over your heart. You needed to chill. You needed to live in reality.

Unlocking your deadbolt, you took another breath in and slowly blew out to calm yourself and as you opened up the door you saw him. It’d been weeks. Just over a month since you’d seen him.

And he had a small box in one arm and a bottle of red wine in the other.

“Hi.” He looked handsome. His clothes were tidy and he looked fresh and clean and you could smell his cologne as you hugged him and then he followed you inside, “Hi. Thank you for switching the day for me,” you turned to him after closing the door, “How have you been?”

Harry looked around your living room and then back to you, those pretty green eyes taking you in making you feel that recognizable spine tingle. Your temperature began to rise without your permission.

“Good. Missed you coming around. Uh…” He held the box out to you, “Your things.”

You took the box with a small smile and then he lifted the bottle of wine by its neck, “And I brought this. Didn’t know if you had time to talk or anything but thought we could share a bottle and sit for a while. Only if you wanted.”

Yes. Yesyesyesyesyesyes… this was exactly what you wanted.

“Oh, that’s so nice of you. Of course, I’d love to sit and chat with you, Harry,” you grinned widely. There was nothing you could do to contain the broad smile that broke out over your mouth or the heat that rose to your neck, “I’ll just put this in my bedroom. Be right back!”

You quickly walked into your hallway, still smiling like an idiot, and then entered your bedroom and dropped the box to the floor. You squealed very quietly to yourself and stomped your feet lightly with fists balled up to get out the pent-up excitement, anxiety, and nerves you were feeling before pressing your palms down on your bed for a moment to relax. The grin on your face only got bigger.

“You okay?”

You shot up and turned to see Harry standing in the hallway outside of your room and your eyes widened. Had he seen your whole little display?

“Yeah! I’m fine.” You smiled.

“Sorry, I followed behind you to see if I could find the bathroom and noticed you were having some kind of fit.”

You pushed a quick laugh out of your mouth and felt your back and thighs scorch in embarrassment. He’d seen you. There was no way he wasn’t aware of what that was.

“Um… don’t worry. I’m okay,” your nerves were bubbling over, “The bathroom is the door at the end. The one that’s open.”

“Okay. I’ll be just a minute. Gotta drain the snake,” he grinned.

When he was out of sight you closed your eyes and shook your head. What an absolute dolt you were. But you did not miss the reference to his dick either. Maybe he was trying to feel you out as well.

In the kitchen, you uncorked the bottle and pulled two glasses down. You didn’t have proper wine glasses yet but figured he wouldn’t mind. Harry was not one to fuss about such things.

You placed the bottle and two glasses at your table and sat down just as he appeared and sat down in the chair next to you.

“How have you been, Y/n? With the breakup and everything?” He asked as he took the honor of pouring a glass for each of you.

You kept your eyes on the glasses as you spoke, “Good. Great even. I miss some things about him but it got too complicated at the end and I feel like I can breathe now.”

“That’s good to hear,” he laid his eyes on you as he handed a glass to you, “Cheers.”

You smiled and tapped your glass against his before taking a sip and then reaching for the bottle to see what kind of wine it was.

“Oh! Did you get this in Lombardy?”

Harry laughed, “Actually no. I bought it at the grocery store. They happened to have this wine there and thought it was fitting for the occasion.”

“Fitting for the occasion of you bringing me my ex’s things?” You puffed out a chuckle.

He nodded, “Yes actually. I mean just because you and my son aren’t seeing each other anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t still have good memories of you.”

You looked down at your glass and blinked. He was so nice. He always made you feel so cherished in some ways.

“Yeah. I guess that’s true,” you allowed yourself to set your gaze on his, “I feel the same really.”

Harry nodded, “He told me all about the breakup. That you told him you weren’t satisfied. I had to hold my tongue when he started talking about it. He doesn’t know I have inside information.”

You laughed, “Oh god. I did not go about the breakup in the best way. I wanted to tell him all the reasons I didn’t want to be with him but… I don’t know. There were just so many and I didn’t want to like, pile it all on him and hurt his feelings. I never got around to the bigger issues with his insecurity, the way he was manipulative at times,” you shook your head, “He made some speech about how he loved me despite my lies… and I can’t remember what he said but it was so phony that I couldn’t stop laughing. I broke down in laughter and I think I offended him.”

“Yeah, he told me you laughed in his face. I can only imagine what he might have said. He was pretty convinced you were in the wrong. Didn’t think he’d done anything to cause you to break it off with him.”

“I’m… I feel a lot better now that it’s over with him.”

“He said you suddenly wanted things in bed and you kind of alluded to wanting things he wasn’t willing to do before but was it sudden? Or is he just making that up?”

You shook your head, “I’ve always been into more adventurous things. Well, I mean since I was old enough to know what those things were. When we first got together we were long-distance so it didn’t matter as much but once I moved back here that’s when it got tricky. I tried to subtly initiate things but he wasn’t picking up on it. And then a few months of that I decided to just be straightforward and told him what I wanted. He flipped out and told me he’d never look at me the same.”

“Kind of figured it was more along those lines.”

“Yeah…” you tapped your fingers on the wood of the table and looked at him, “How about we talk about something else?”

Harry sniffed and turned his body toward yours, draping his arm over the back of the chair he was sitting in, “Good idea. I was just gonna suggest that,” he grinned and looked away from you as if to work up the nerve for what he was about to say before placing his eyes back on you, “So where’s your roommate?” His raised brows and the grin on his face felt like he knew something already.

“Oh. She’s visiting her parents for the weekend.” You swallowed thickly at the scrutiny of his eyes.

He nodded slowly, “I need to be honest with you,” he pulled his lips into his mouth and grinned before continuing, “I checked your Instagram and then found your roommate and noticed that she was away based on her posts. You didn’t happen to plan it like this on purpose did you?”

Your lips parted as you looked at his face in surprise. A thick blanket of embarrassment surrounded your body as you hesitated with an answer.

“And that little fit you had in your bedroom. Tell me what that was.”

You cringed and looked down at your lap. You’d been busted. There was no way out of this. Unless you lied to his face and you didn’t want that. Because he was asking you directly, which meant he had a reason for bringing it up.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I…” you shook your head and slowly dragged your gaze back up to his, “Yeah. I did plan it like this. Um… Thought it would be nice to see you without someone else here.”

He continued nodding, “And your little display? That was because you’re excited to see me?” He finished off the sentence with a grin which had you feeling at ease suddenly.

“Yeah,” your response was hardly a whisper as you smiled back at him.

His grin widened and he licked his lips, “Okay. I see. Well, let me tell you my thoughts because I want to be clear with you, Y/n.”

You nodded and angled your body to face him directly. Your heart was raging in your chest so wildly you were almost light-headed.

“I initiated coming over because I wanted to see you in person. To talk, to know how you are. I hoped you’d be just as excited as I am. And it appears that you are,” you watched his eyes drop to your outfit and wind down to the spread of your thighs over the chair you were starting to melt into.

“And since you wanted me here when no one else was around I think you wanted something to happen between us. Now, I hadn’t expected it really but I wouldn’t mind it going in that direction.”

You swallowed and felt every bit of your skin begin to overheat. You kept your eyes on him but you were unable to form a response.

“What is it you wanted to have happen tonight, Y/n? Hoped I’d show you something you had been missing out on? Do you want something from me?”

You flattened your palm on your thigh and averted your eyes to your glass of wine, “Yeah.”

The gentle touch of his finger at your jaw, nudging your face toward him made you inhale shallowly, “Keep your eyes on me, okay? You and I won’t be playing any games here. Understood? I’m gonna need you to be open with me. Tell me what you want.”

The way he was speaking to you and the soft touch of his hand had you almost convinced you were in some kind of sexy dream that you were about to wake up from any minute.

“I…” your voice was breathy, shaky, “I think… anything.” You worried at your lip between your teeth and hoped he’d take over for you. Hoped he’d answer the question for you.

He shifted his hand to thumb over your bottom lip and pulled at it, “Don’t do that. Gonna hurt yourself. Tell me what anything means, Y/n. I’m not a mind reader.”

You cleared your throat and looked to the edge of the room and he tiskd at you, “I said keep your eyes on me, love.”

“Sorry,” you turned your gaze back to his.

“You’re having a hard time coming up with an answer then? Want me to throw out some ideas you can say yes or no to?”

You nodded.

“Well, I’ll start off by naming something I think you’d like, something I’ve been dreaming about doing to you. Okay?”

You continued to nod.

Harry took your hand in his, pulling it to his lap, “I want to show you what it feels like to be eaten out by a man who enjoys it more than almost anything in the world. Would you like that?”

You let out a quiet moan and nodded, “Yeah.”

He nodded as he stood and pulled you up with him, “Let’s start there then.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed part 1! I promise you that the smut will commence in part 2 (and be prepared, part 2 has approximately 9k words of smut out of 10.8k words total, so she's FILTHY)

PART 2

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hopelesslonelyghost · 1 month

Text

thinking about simon with an emotional support medic (pt 2 here)

medical inaccuracies ahead, pls don’t mind. not beta read, sorry for any typosss

simon doesn’t know how he ended up where he did. absolutely smitten for the cute medic on base. he thinks it may have happened when he sliced his hand and had to come to you for the first time.

you and your beautiful, bright eyes looked up at him as he gruffly explained his situation. you quickly sat him down and got to work. after gathering all the stuff you needed, you sat quietly next to the ghost and cleaned his wound.

as you worked, you never once forced him to converse with you. didn’t try to poke and prod at him. you just hummed.

after applying some butterfly stitches and wrapping his hand up, you quietly expressed your content, a little ta-dah! slipping out. you took off your gloves as you stood, gently patting his shoulder, “all done big guy. anything else comes up, i’m here.”

ever since then there hasn’t been a day simon strays far from you whenever he’s on base.

tonight you’re staying up later than usual, trying to get all your charts up to date before heading to your quarters for some much needed rest. that is, until you hear a knock on the door.

your head perks up, eyebrows furrowing softly, “come in!”

eyes trained on the door, you watch it open slowly before a massive body is slipping through it, closing the door behind him.

“lieutenant!”

“hey doc.”

you set aside the paperwork you were working on and stand, making your way to him.

“what’s wrong?”

simon crosses his arms and huffs, “can’t jus’ come an’ visit anymore?”

you quirk an eyebrow, “simon it’s-“ you look down at your watch, then back up at him, “-it’s nearly midnight.”

while not uncommon for him to be in your office at this time, keeping you company as you finish up for the night, he had just come back from an op a few hours ago. he’d usually be in his quarters for the rest of the day, that was just his routine.

simon sighs and lifts his arm to go to rub the back of his neck, which he quickly aborts and hisses, arm flinching back down.

you freeze, “simon?”

he turns and goes to sit on the patient bed, “got tackled through a window, shattered it.” as he explains, he’s pulling the zipper of his hoodie down, eyes scrunching up in pain behind his balaclava before fully removing the article, “muppet pushed me into the broken glass. tried diggin’ it out on my own, but can’t see too well even through the mirror.”

shirt pulled up, he’s removing a few gauze taped onto his skin. you look up from where you’d ran to a few drawers, gathering all the stuff you need, piling it on a small cart.

you can see the gauze are red and heavy with his blood, but it appears to be controlled. a large gash is revealed on the right side of his torso, just below his ribcage. it’s jagged and deep. it runs from his ribs down to just slightly above his right hip.

“jesus si, that’s gnarly.” you sigh as you wheel the cart back towards him, grabbing a nearby stool and taking a seat. you glide over to him. you push him to lay back on the bed, pushing a few buttons to adjust the bed so that he’s not laying completely flat on his back.

you slip on gloves and tentatively prod at the wound. simon hisses. you quickly snatch your hands back and wince, “i’m so sorry. here, i’m going to add some local anesthetic, okay?”

he shakes his head, “it’s alrigh’. i’ll be fine without it.”

you make a sound that sounds almost like a whine, “simon.. there’s- there’s no way i’m allowing that.”

you turn slightly, getting the numbing ready, “i’m going to be digging into your side for god-knows-how-long.” you turn back to him and lock eyes, “you’ve already suffered enough. my job is to keep you healthy and comfortable.”

you two fall silent, caught in a silent war. whatever he sees in your eyes must be convincing enough, because he gives a slight nod and turns away.

you nod too, “good.” you open a few alcohol pads, “this might sting.”

•••

two hours later, you’ve successfully debrided, cleaned, and stitched simon’s wound. you’re tightly wrapping bandages around his waist

“remember, keep it dry for at least twenty-four hours, after that, you can take a quick shower. don’t keep it wet. we don’t want it to get infected. antibiotic resistant bacteria is a real threat. don’t forget that..”

“aye aye, doc.”

you finish up with his wrappings and stand up, slipping your gloves off and discarding them on the now messy cart, “come back in the morning so I can take a look at it again, and to change your gauze as well.”

you walk over to a locked drawer and thumb in a code before placing it on a fingerprint scanner. three small beep-beep-beep!’s ring through your office. you fish out a large white container and pop the top off, spilling a few pills into a white paper bag. putting everything back, you fold the bag and staple it shut.

you walk back to simon and hand him the bag, “antibiotics. they’re more of a safety net. take one every twelves hours.”

simon stands, pulling his shirt back down and snatching his hoodie up into his hands, “thanks love. really ‘preciate you doin’ this.”

you smile softly, “it’s my job to look after you, dummy.”

he huffs again, soft eyes locking with yours. he takes the medication from your awaiting hand and shoves it into the pockets of his hoodie, which he already slipped on.

he takes a few steps closer to you, very slowly he brings up his right hand, before its enclosed around the back of your neck and bringing you into his chest. he leans down and places a kiss onto the crown of your head. then another on your temple. and then a final one on your cheek.

“that’s my line, sweetheart.”

you stick your tongue out, “that’s too bad.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #es!medic!reader

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teamatsumu · 6 months

Text

The End of NNN (gojo satoru x reader)

word count: 800-ish

warnings: fem!reader, pure smut, slight somno, multiple orgasms, mentions of anal, whiny!gojo

When the clock strikes midnight, making it 1st December 2023, Satoru immediately rips your clothes off (yes, he rips them off) before mounting you like a dog and bullying his weeping, rock hard cock into your unprepped pussy.

You gasp as the intrusion wakes you up with a jolt, blinking a few times to try and adjust, but Satoru gives you no time, drilling into you with quick, sloppy and rushed strokes. His resulting moan is pornographic, and he already sounds so wrecked that it makes you subconsciously tighten around him.

“Sh-shit, baby.” He chokes out, hooking his hands behind your knees and forcing your legs farther apart so he can watch your pretty pussy swallow his dick and make it wet. He feels insane. He can’t describe it. The glorious feeling of your warm, tight hole has him on the edge already, and he is almost angry at himself for holding out an entire month.

How Gojo Satoru managed to not nut for the entirety of November, you would never know. In fact, you had been so sure he would fail, you had promised him you would do anything he wanted in bed if he succeeded. Turns out Satoru had those lofty goals in mind when he managed to shut down all of your advances, refusing to let you anywhere near his dick, even going on long, difficult missions to make sure he was not tempted by your body. But he is here now, nearly whining at how fucking good your fluttering cunt feels, rutting into you rough and hard.

He doesn’t even fully thrust, unable to bear the thought of not being in your pussy for even a single second. His thrusts are shallow and choppy, head continuously pressing into your sweet spot, and that’s what puts you right on the edge.

Above you, your boyfriend is a sight. His hair is all over the place from when he tossed and turned restlessly as he waited for midnight. His pale skin is now flushed a pretty deep pink, sweat gathered on his hairline. His pupils are so blown that the brilliant blue of his eyes is reduced to a tiny ring right by the edges. And he is looking at you like you are his last meal on Earth.

“Satoru,” You whine, fisting the pillow under your head for any semblance of control. “‘M gonna cum.”

“Fuck.” Satoru sounded close to tears. “God, baby, your fucking cunt is so tight around me. How did I go without this shit for a month, huh? I’m a fucking idiot. Fuck, I missed your little whore body. Look at you, taking my cock like a champ. Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you baby, gonna fill you up-”

And then he is cumming with a long, low whine, nails digging into your hips and pelvis flush against yours, releasing ropes and ropes of cum into you. There’s so much of it that it leaks right past the base of his dick, traveling down from your pussy and through your asscrack. The feeling of it cooling on your skin has you shivering.

He had lasted barely 2 minutes.

Satoru is still moaning, one shaky arm holding him up, hips still not stopping. You gasp when a pleasurable jolt goes through your body, eyes widening when you realise your boyfriend is still rock hard. He is barely paying any attention to you, one hand holding the headboard above you while the other runs up your body until it is wrapping gently yet firmly around your throat to hold you in place. You moan at the feeling.

His thrusts this time around are longer and deeper, nearly pulling out to the tip before slamming hard into you. Every slam of his hips takes your breath away, pulling out a sweet cry every time from your lips. You feel ecstatic, having missed the way your boyfriend’s cock carves into you. Satoru was not the only one who suffered the effects of No Nut November. Your pussy had yearned for him just as much as his cock had missed you.

Satoru’s second orgasm is quick to come, thrusts speeding up and voice getting an octave higher as he dumps another load of his cum into you, biceps contracting with the effort of holding his trembling body up. His mere reactions can be enough to make you cum too. You had never seen him like this, so whiny, so desperate, such a huge mess of sweat and a slight film of tears coating his pretty eyes. He had always been the one in control, the one who reduces you to pathetic pleas and begs. Yet here he is, looking like he had run three hundred miles, sweaty and breathless and an absolute wreck.

He shows no signs of stopping though, now leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist and pull your body tight against his. He sets a fast pace, rutting into you like an animal in heat, this position placing his lips right next to your ear, so you can hear all of his little noises. They are almost contagious, making you moan and cry along with him. One shaky hand of his reaches down, fiddling roughly with your clit until the feeling of it all is too much and you are cumming hard on his cock, tears pooling in your lash line at the dizzying feeling. Satoru lasts longer this time around, managing to pull another mind numbing orgasm from you before his balls are contracting again, shooting more ropes of white into your already fully stuffed cunt.

He goes slack on top of you, resting his full weight on you as he tries to catch his breath. His thumb, still twirling leisurely around your sensitive little nub, now travels down to your hole, pulling his cock out to feel how much cum pours out now that he isn’t plugging it inside. He hums in approval when you jump a bit and giggle.

“You feeling better?” You ask, not at all surprised at how wrecked you sounded.

“Hm,” Is his only response, and his hand travels further down, before he pokes at a different hole.

You yelp and your eyes widen, body stiffening. You turn your head until you’re looking into Satoru’s eyes, now back to his normal magnificent blue, and shining with something devious.

“I want my reward now, sweetcheeks.” He smirks, and combining that with the deep flush on his cheeks and the sweat coating his forehead makes him look even more sinister. Your pussy throbs at the sight.

The tip of his thumb slips inside, aided by the cum that had dripped out of your pussy and down to there. You bite your lip in anticipation, and let Satoru use you how he wanted.

He had earned it, after all.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagine #jjk fanfiction #gojo fanfic #gojo imagine

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devildomcuties · 2 months

Text

When Vampire!MC Needs A Midnight Snack

🕷The Demon Brothers x gn!reader 18+

🕷wc: 1,787

🕷summary: Sometimes hunger strikes in the middle of the night.

🕷warnings: vampire!MC, blood drinking, implied smut, hair pulling

Lucifer

“You’re lucky it’s the weekend,” Lucifer grumbles as you climb into bed with him. He pulls you toward him, your back against his bare chest.

“Since when do you take days off, hmm?” You ask as you roll over, sliding your leg between his. Lucifer grabs your hip, his eyes meeting yours.

“Since you started climbing into my bed late at night, darling. Why don’t you just sleep here from now on?” Lucifer asks as he kisses your jaw and trails upwards to your lips.

“As if I’d be able to get away with that,” you giggle as he kisses you again.

“I’m sure I can get them off your case if needed,” Lucifer smirks as he kisses you, his hand on your cheek.

You moan softly, your fangs elongate and accidentally nip Lucifer’s bottom lip. He groans as blood beads on his lip and your tongue swipes over it.

Your name escapes him in a near growl as he rolls you under him. He kisses you again, tasting himself on your tongue as you grip his broad shoulders when he grinds on you.

“Bite me,” he demands in between heavy breaths, his neck bared to you in a rare sign of submission. You don’t think twice as you pull him toward you, your fangs sinking into his neck as he moans and your eyes roll back.

He tastes divine.

Mammon

“Treasure, what are you doing here?” Mammon whispers as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. He feels you beside him, your familiar scent surrounding him.

You wear one of his shirts, stolen from his closet. You do your best to be sneaky on nights Lucifer patrols the HOL halls.

“I wanted to see you,” you admit as you turn to face him. He smiles gently, his hand resting on your hip before he pulls you close.

“I missed you, Treasure. It’s been too long since you’ve been in my bed,” Mammon grins as he leans forward to press his lips to yours. Your hands thread in his white hair, tugging it to make him whimper.

Mammon nearly loses himself when your fangs brush his lips. He curses as he tilts his head back to expose his neck.

“Get a taste, Treasure. Let me give you this little pleasure.”

You moan, sinking your fangs into his neck while he cries out your name where he lies under you.

Leviathan

“You really should get to bed earlier,” you say, startling Levi at his desk chair. He was wrapping up the third act of his new game when he was overcome with sleepiness.

“I-I meant to,” he stutters as he shuts down the game and computer. You watch as he pops his fingers before getting out of the chair.

You walk to him, taking his hand in yours as you lead him to the tub. His cheeks flush pink as he watches you intently. You cup his face, gently grabbing hold of his hair to pull him close. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart. His tail whips behind him in excitement as your lips press to his.

“You always taste so good,” you muse as you trail kisses from his jaw to his neck. Your hands tug on his t-shirt, tugging it over his head easily as he melts beneath you. He looks adorable as he stares up at you, your legs straddling his hips.

Slowly you run your hands over his sculpted torso, kissing your way up from his navel until you’re settled at his neck.

“Please,” Levi whimpers as his hands grip your hips, eyes rolling back as your fangs break through his skin and you drink him in. You’re a glutton as you drink from him, slurping lewdly and moaning as he whispers and writhes beneath you.

“Tastes so good,” you whisper as you seal the puncture marks with your tongue.

Levi slowly opens his eyes, smiling as he grabs the back of your head to pull you into a kiss that makes you nearly lose yourself. You’ll spend the rest of the night in his arms, kissing him and making him moan.

Satan

Satan sits on his bed with his back against the headboard. The lamp on his nightstand illuminates his bedroom enough for him to read the thick leather bound book on his lap.

When you enter his bedroom, he’s not surprised to see you. You wear one of his sweaters, something oversized you convinced him to buy on one of your book-shopping dates.

“Hello, love. Can’t sleep?” He asks as you climb into bed with him. You take his bookmark and save his page before taking the book out of his hands to close it. You set it on his nightstand before straddling his lap.

“It would be easier if I could just sleep here every night,” you answer as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“And deal with Lucifer’s wrath? He’s annoying enough as is,” Satan chuckles as you kiss his neck, sinking your fangs into him without warning.

Satan curses, begging for more as his hands grip your hips tightly. He holds you close, tilting his head to encourage you further as you rock up and down on his lap.

You take your fill, moaning when you pull away and lick your blood-stained lips.

Satan’s eyes lock on yours before he’s got you beneath him. He smirks as he eyes you hungrily, kissing you as his hands make quick work of removing your clothes.

Asmo

Your throat aches from hunger as you slowly push open Asmo’s bedroom door. You’re quiet as you enter, shutting the door after.

You’re surprised to see Asmo isn’t on his bed streaming like usual, perhaps he’s decided to turn in early. You look around his bedroom, spotting the bathroom light on seconds before the shower turns on.

“Asmo?” You call out as you walk toward the bathroom.

“In the shower, hun! Why don’t you join me?” Asmo giggles as you enter the bathroom and strip.

Asmo smiles brightly as he pulls you under the shower stream. His hands are greedy as they feel every inch of you, the sweet scent of his body wash fills your nose.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” you state as he washes your back. “I’m just so thirsty.”

Asmo giggles. “Couldn’t resist a taste?”

You turn to face him and shake your head. Asmo grins as he reaches for a tiny bottle filled with a red liquid. He pours some on a loofah before rubbing it on your arms. The smell of blood has your eyes rolling back for a moment before you’re pressing Asmo to the shower wall.

Your fangs appear and Asmo gasps, biting back a moan as you kiss him deeply. His hands wrap around your neck to pull you close, nearly losing himself when you sink your teeth into his sensitive skin.

Gulp after gulp, Asmo moans in your hold until he’s whimpering prettily, gently pushing you away.

Blood drips from your fangs before you lick them clean. You press your forehead to him, kissing him again as the shower steams the bathroom.

Asmo takes his time with you in the shower. He cleans you up and then himself and soon he leads you to his bed, where he bares his neck for you once again.

Beel

You were ravenous. You had been in bed for almost an hour but all you could focus on was your insane thirst and Beel’s pounding heartbeat as he worked out in his room.

You groaned as you rolled out of bed, quietly sneaking through the halls until you arrived at his bedroom.

Belphie’s bed was empty. He had probably fallen asleep in the attic once again.

Beel doesn’t notice you enter his room or hear you shut the door. He’s busy counting reps when you approach him, moving to stand in front of him. He sets the weight down on the floor, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Hey, baby. What brings you here so late?” He asks as he tosses the towel to the side and grabs his granola bar off his desk.

“You,” you answer as you take his hand to lead him to his bed. You push him down and climb on top of him.

Beel smirks, allowing you to straddle him and pin his arms over his head.

“You know damn well I can hear your heartbeat in my room, and yet you continue to workout well into the night until I have to come up here and get a taste.” You grin as you kiss your way down his neck.

You take his shirt off, discarding it on the bedroom floor as you continue to kiss your way down his hot, sweaty body.

You stop at his hips, fangs piercing his skin.

“Yes,” he breathes as his hand grips your hair as you drink from him greedily. Your lewd noises mix with his as your name rolls off his tongue. He encourages you to keep going, moaning until he comes undone at the same time you finish drinking from him, licking the puncture wounds close.

Belphie

Perhaps sleeping would be easier if you had a coffin in the attic like Belphie had suggested the first time he saw you. It would make getting out of bed easier seeing as Belphie spent most of his nights asleep in the attic instead of his bedroom with Beel.

Belphie grumbles when you climb into bed beside him, tugging the blankets away from him along with the pillow he hugs to his side.

“Babe,” he groans when you curl up at his side, taking his wrist and gently kissing it. “Hungry?”

“Yes,” you pout as your fangs scrape your bottom lip. Belphie raises his wrist to your lips and you sink your fangs into him greedily.

He tastes delightful. It makes your eyes roll back and your mouth salivate as you slurp hungrily. Belphie curses, moaning your name as he grinds his hips against your leg. Pleasure courses through his body. His sweet cries make your head spin as you drink from him deeply.

Gently, you pull his wrist away. You lick the tiny holes close and savor the metallic taste on your tongue before you kiss him.

Belphie groans, his tongue meeting yours as your hands thread in his hair. When you tug, he bucks his hips against yours, moaning when you end up beneath him.

He takes his time getting you out of your clothes, ignoring the sting of your bite as he makes his way down your body until he’s settled between your legs.

“Now it’s my turn to taste you,” he smirks as he locks eyes with you.

©devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

#obey me fanfic #obey me smut #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #levi x reader #satan x reader #asmo x reader #beel x reader #belphie x reader #leviathan x reader

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luvjunie · 6 months

Text

pretty boy earth 1610 miles 745 words

Three gentle taps to the glass pane of your bedroom window alerted you of your frequent nighttime visitor, ten minutes to midnight, like always. Nose abruptly lifting from the book it was tucked in, you quickly set it off to the side on your duvet and smiled at the sight of Miles—still fully suited up where he stood on your fire escape as he gave you an excited wave. Seeing Spider-Man randomly pop up where you live would probably scare the life out of anyone, but you weren’t just ‘anyone’.

With a small grunt and an upwards pull of your window, you were soon face to face with the netted nylon mask of your city’s secret superhero—who wasn’t much of secret to you and your small room.

Miles immediately pulled his mask off so your lips could meet faster: his main focus, aside from the fact that it was thirty degrees out and he was losing feeling in his toes.

“Hey,” he pulled away from you with a smile that nearly rivaled yours, ducking down and climbing through to escape the prickly chill of the November night.

“Hi pretty boy, I missed you.”

He already had his hands on the bottom, ready to shut it when it’d rolled off your tongue like the simplest thing as you pounced back onto your bed. The window came to a screeching halt, literally, when he looked over his shoulder, eyes widened and blinking as if he’d misheard you. Seemingly unaware of the years you just shaved off his lifespan with those two little words, you glanced down at your book that’d flopped closed due to the movement of your mattress. “Damn, I lost my page.” you muttered with a frown.

“H-What?” Miles blinked, eyes remaining on you until he finally remembered to shut the window, softly, and quietly. “What’d you say?”

“I lost my page?” you repeated.

“Before that.”

You tilted your head at him, brows creased to match the confused look you wore. “I…missed you?” you laughed uncertainly, thumb and pointer finger riffling through the pages of your well-loved copy of Hunger Games: Catching Fire. It was a desperate attempt, really, trying to find where you’d left off. You were never one to dog-ear your pages.

“No, no,” He was facing you fully now, the small two strand twists he had in his hair shaking with his head when it moved from side to side. “The other thing.”

You looked away and at your poster clad wall, eyes squinted as they slowly landed on him again. Your voice, quieter than it was before, had a confused lilt to it when you answered again.

“…Hello?”

“Jesus fuc—” Miles nearly smacked his forehead, hands clasping together and pointing towards you instead. “Baby. What did you say after ‘hello’?”

You thought on it for a moment, relaying through the brief interaction. “Oh!” You sat up, calves tucked beneath your thighs and face brightened with an oncoming grin. “Pretty boy?”

“Yeah,” he scratched his head, eyes bouncing on and off your face and canines showing when his top lip raised into something of a shy smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Duh.” You scoffed, as if the answer were beyond obvious. Miles shook his head at you, a puff of air sounding from his nose in the form of amusement.

“Don’t think I’ve heard that one before. Boys aren’t usually called pretty, but I’ll take it.”

Slowly lowering himself, Miles let out an unpleasant groan when his hip touched the ground, far too young to have his joints aching the way they did. Laying down on your sherpa rug, he sprawled out on his back and let his eyes close, like he always did during his night visits. He’d stay for an hour or so, talk with you, get patched up if needed (which was rare), or sometimes take a power nap so he could swing the rest of the way back. And after surveying the city he knew better than to even think about touching your bed. In his outside clothes was bad enough, now his suit? Absolutely not. He was more than satisfied with the floor.

“Yeah, well I think you are.” Laying flat on your stomach, you pressed your cheek to your folded arms and marveled down at your exhausted boyfriend from the height of your bed. “Everything about you is pretty. Like your eyelashes? They’re gorgeous, and for what? It’s lowkey unfair.”

“Aight you’re draggin’ it.” he laughed.

“I’m serious!”

a/n: pretty boys >>>

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#three fics in one week?? 😦#miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales fanfiction #earth 1610 miles x you #miles morales fluff #1610!miles x reader #earth 1610 miles x reader #1610 miles morales x reader #miles 1610 x reader

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anlian-aishang · 5 months

Text

Tags: levi ackerman x reader, mutual pining [coworkers] to smut, only one bed, non-sexual spitting, alcohol mention, reader wears levi’s shirt, cunnilingus, penetration, modern AU, fem!reader Word count: 10,000 A/N: thank you to @lostinwildflowers for betaing this! Birch is one my writing idols, so I am truly honored. I hope you enjoy <3

This can’t be happening.

Unknowingly, the two of you shared a silent sentiment. After a late taxi, long lines of airport security, and racing to the terminal only to be delayed for several hours, the cherry on the shit sundae - as he would put it - was the midnight arrival to a hotel with only one bed.

“You’re sure?”

The look on the nervous teenager’s face conveyed the answer before he even uttered the question. Still, Levi knew he had to ask, audibly enough for you to hear - just so you would know that he did. In the face of liability, you had to acknowledge that he had tried his best.

“I’m really sorry, sir.” Their eyes were darting in panic between you and Levi as if you were the antidote to this angry customer. But he wasn’t angry, at least, not at them. Wasn’t the brat’s fault that Erwin booked the wrong room. “I have that in the afternoon of September the 15th, E. Smith booked a single king bed for one adult guest.”

“Two adult guests.”

They shared a lengthy eye contact. From the background, you watched their miscommunication unfold and cringed with secondhand embarrassment. You nearly burst into nervous laughter when they shrugged, “I can provide you with extra complimentary toiletries.”

At his sides, Levi unclenched his fists in defeat, “...We’ll manage.”

The plastic key cards made a satisfying sound as the receptionist slid them across the marble countertop - equal and opposite to the dissatisfaction on Levi’s face. In one smooth motion, he handed you your copy while simultaneously whipping out his cell phone. Two clicks - speed dial and call. Two rings - Erwin answered.

You couldn’t hear the other end, but you had your guesses.

Hello?

“You fucked up.”

Sorry?

“As you should be.”

For what?

“Stuffing two adults in one bed, what made you think we’d appreciate that accommodation?”

Given the looks you’ve been giving each other at the office, I thought you might.

Levi violently snapped his phone closed in hopes you couldn’t hear that. Thrusting his phone in his pocket, he used his free hand to snatch luggage from yours. “Give me that.”

A kind gesture, but irritation in his voice made it confusing. You thought to grab it back and insist that you could handle it, but instead, held your tongue. Clearly, he was steaming. Any objection, even a well-intended one, you doubted it would better his mood. Walking towards the lift, you concluded that nothing you had to say would supply ice to his ire. Though, the walk, time, and your calming presence, seemed to be working, you thought as you watched him delicately pad the UP button.

In the intimacy of the elevator, Levi allowed himself one venting word, “Idiot.” He sighed, placed his thumb and pointer finger on each of his temples, and rubbed wrinkles into his skin. “As if we haven’t already been through enough.”

Today and long before, the two of you had been through plenty together. Tonight was the first time you would pin it on Erwin. All other times, it had been your own selves and each other to blame.

He loved the way you looked in those small pencil skirts and see-through tights, but he hated what it did to him. Meetings in which he could only stare, absorbing nothing. In the middle of a phone call, when you walked by, he would forget its purpose and stammer aimlessly. Nights kept awake, staring at his ceiling, a blank canvas for projecting his wandering thoughts: how you would look with the skirt yanked up and the tights pulled down, how you took your outfit off after work, and if you wanted his help with that.

Countless times, you had cursed the man you crushed on. The way he ran his fingers through his hair when overworked made you want to try it yourself, to take his stressors away - or better yet - serve as the relief to them. On hot days, he loosened his top button. On lucky days, the top two. On his way out the door, he would tug his tie out from under his collar, creating a loop wide enough for you to slip your hand through and use it to pull his lips to yours - or so you imagined. Each day, Levi had fed you tastes. Over time, your craving for him had grown unbearable.

Ultimately, this out-of-town assignment was a test, and a final exam at that. Years of studying one another were culminating in one night, on one bed. The chime of the elevator interrupted your thoughts as if it was a warning: ground yourself. The plain of Levi’s expression and calm in his pace on the way to room 845 echoed its sense: he was unriled, uninterested.

Your read was wrong. Levi was thankful that you trailed him: with his back to you, you could not see his rouge tint, the bite of his lip, or the twitch of his cheek. As he pressed his key to the reader, held the heavy hotel door, and slugged both of your belongings atop the desk and dresser, you admired the way he moved so suavely - when actually, he considered his motions stiff, careful, and calculated.

Neither of you bothered to turn on the light. Taxed bodies, tired eyes, and tempted temperaments shared a desire to finally climb in bed. No need to delay things any longer. Levi unzipped his suitcase, the sound garnered your attention. Immediately, you noticed now neatly he had packed, admired his organization and pristine folds, then planned that when it came your time to unpack, you would aim to shield your messy methods from the clean freak’s vision.

A gray cotton tee - matching his eyes, black sweatpants - same shade as his hair. A navy canvas travel bag topped the pile. Levi leaned effortlessly against the white bathroom door and stated, “I’ll change in here.”

You nodded vehemently, as if he had ordered you on an important mission, “I’ll be out here.”

Cute. And at that intrusive thought, he silently ducked away.

Unbuckling his belt, tugging his zipper, freeing his legs from his slacks, Levi tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. Every muscle in his body finally untensed, he was set free from one cage of many. His business-casual confines had been done away with. Now, he just had professionalism, work relationships, and his fucking hormones to maintain.

His boxer briefs were agitatingly taut, struggling to constrain years’ worth of tension in their cotton threads. Levi looked down to his lap and cursed himself. Hovering around thirty, yet all the composure of a fresh young bachelor. Gradually, Levi hooked his thumb beneath the elastic waistband and loosened just a little, allowing him room to breathe. Too much room maybe as the chill thermostat air contrasted harshly with his warmed passion and drew a loud hiss. Levi clenched his teeth hard in an attempt to bar his vocals, praying to whatever power that you wouldn’t knock on the door and call Levi, you alright? It was just the kind of person you were, and Levi had come to know you well.

That anxiety turned out to be false, for your ears were ringing: ignorant of his desires, overwhelmed by your own. Gingerly, you unzipped your luggage and fret at the sight: a little black nightgown with lace on the hems. Its sight hit you like a load of bricks, lightning to the thunderous memory of your midnight, sleep-deprived, frantic packing. That woman was giddy for the business trip with her office crush and, in that frenzy, picked her sexiest pajamas for the special occasion. Goddammit! If only you knew that he wouldn’t be seeing it from across the room as a tease, he would be sleeping next to it, maybe even feeling it if one of you crossed your half of the mattress. Cursing yourself, you dug frantically in search of something - anything - else to wear to bed, but were rudely met with only pantsuits and blouses. You bunched your nightgown in your trembling fists, but its thinness and shortness allowed it to fit wholly in your hands - foiling your coping strategy. All you could do was tip your head back and sigh to the ceiling, Fuck me.

That feeling echoed when you draped it over yourself and saw your reflection in the hotel window. Your hair was disheveled from the long day. Makeup smeared and ran down your face, eyeliner to eyeshadow. Wrinkles in your silk dress. Looks like you were already fucked.

On the other side of the door, Levi was thinking the same thing: he was absolutely fucked. His erection stood high after minutes of waiting. Cold water splashed on his face, but his fever seemed to evaporate it. Trying to think about humbling topics, but he couldn’t get you off his mind. To make his arousal vanish, there was one thing he could do, but there wasn’t enough time for that. Even if the shower were running, Levi doubted that the downpour of water would be able to suppress the noises of slapping skin or his embarrassingly heightened vocals. Fuck. Levi clutched the bathroom countertop and sighed at his reflection. His exhale fogged the mirror just before he hung his head down and conceded. God, help me.

His prayers ignored, you ended up knocking on the bathroom door eventually: “Levi?”

Every nerve in his body froze. He stammered more times than he would have liked before managing a stern “What?”

“Sorry! I just -” humiliated heat seemed to radiate off of you, “- take your time, I just -”

Half listening, half panicking, Levi seemed not to pay mind to your take your time - stepping into his joggers and throwing on his shirt as fast as he could.

“- can I brush my teeth?”

You were startled when his response was a quick and loud turn of the handle, wordlessly letting you in. Levi was surprised to see you the way you were: temptress dress with a toothbrush and toothpaste innocently perched in each hand. The eye contact lasted for three seconds, but you could have sworn that it was that many years long.

The twitch of your hands and your heart’s lofty goals placed a dollop of toothpaste twice as big as you normally would. Had to have perfect breath, just in case. Not even just in case, you were going to lay beside him - mere inches away - for the next several hours. In those seconds of pondering, gravity began to spill your toothpaste off the bristles and towards the pristine marble vanity. With haste, you jammed the toothbrush into your mouth, causing you to gag on your device.

Levi felt his erection press against his waistband and rolled his eyes at his own stupid urges. You assumed that eye roll was for you and offered an innocent grin. Not so innocent, however, was your curiosity. His t-shirt was tight, leaving little to the imagination. One arm’s reach from an array of muscles, you kept your eyes deliberately on the mirror ahead. However, your doppelganger had a mind of her own apparently, gaze falling from eye contact and onto his chest, waist, abdomen. Without even having to turn his head, Levi could see your staring, obviously more obvious than you thought it would be. With your attention on his lower half, Levi allowed himself a smirk.

Such a silly thing, but was this the first time you brushed your teeth next to someone? This handful of minutes was inexplicably romantic, oddly domestic. Pajamas, double sinks, and the end of a long day. You had been coworkers, acquaintances, and unknowingly requited lovers, but for this one moment, you were husband and wife.

White toothpaste lined the gap between his top and bottom lip, and for some reason, you felt your knees buckle. Levi ducked down to spit, a polite attempt to hide it. Your eyes rejected his offer, instead widening as your pupils honed in on the sight. Leaning forward ever so slightly, you savored yet loathed the way his rejection ran down the pipe. What a waste.

Levi sheathed his toothbrush back in its protective case, a neat freak through and through, and slid it back into his tote. Sifting through, he stumbled upon a mini bottle of mouthwash, making him freeze with indecision: added freshness at the cost of spitting in front of you again? He felt that once had already been rude enough. Levi shot you a side-eye and made an unexpected eye contact: he was trying to read you, you were already staring. Mutually miscommunicated guilt, both of you felt you had been caught and snapped back to aversion.

It came your turn to rinse your mouth, and he couldn’t help it. Levi could have blamed his peripheral vision, could have blamed the bright lights that lined the mirror, but hard-pressed, he could not come up with an excuse for why he watched you then. The streak of white that shot out of your mouth, its wake dribbling down your lips. Goddammit, you cursed your clumsiness and hastily wiped your mess with a washcloth. He knew it as well as you did: he should have been grossed out. Only Levi realized, though, how much he liked it, he was just too ashamed to admit it.

Though his arousal screamed, his lips stayed silent. There was a time and place.

Was there? You’ve worked together for how long? All those years, they never had a time or place?

A long inhale, a slow exhale, his fingers curled underneath the cold countertop, hoping its chill would thwart the flush of his chest. Fuck how badly he wanted to kiss you then, to thumb that white stain off your chin and into his mouth, to clutch the backs of your thighs and hoist you onto that vanity. Your waist in his hands, your sex in line with his -

“Levi?”

“Yeah?”

His rapid response, you mistook it as anger. While the voice on his shoulder was lust, yours was insecurity. Surely, you’re the last straw. Having to share a bed with a dork like you? He’s had a tough day. Don’t make him endure this.

“Do you want me to take the floor?”

A dumbbell dropped to the pit of his stomach. Of course not, but for you to bring it up, he must have been hasty to assume that you would share the bed. Levi grit his teeth, annoyed with his lofty goals. Two slow blinks, “I can.”

That was the last thing you wanted. “N-No… I don’t - I don’t mean…” Your lips parted in stammer. Eyes darted as if the tile walls would whisper you the answer. For a moment, you cursed the beautiful neutrality of his face: impossible not to love, but impossible to read. His stillness was contagious, though, and brought you to settle on an answer, “I’ll meet you under the sheets.”

Ears burned red as they checked: was that selective hearing or was that what you really said? Before his eyes could study you, you turned on your heel and closed the door shut.

Once again, on opposite sides of the door, your sentiment was shared: Phew.

He took a few minutes after that. When he finally walked out, he found that you had been lotioning your legs over that time. Dim glow of the bedside lamp reflected on your smooth skin. If not for the way he had come to know you, to respect and appreciate you, this sight could have been the cover of some sketchy magazine. Eagerness glazed your eyes. Your hands had been massaging your inner thighs, now a perfect shield for the gem between your legs. Levi gave the slightest shake of his head, not disapproval, but disbelief. How did you manage such effortless perfection?

Was that not everything about you, though? The most minute smile in meetings. Biting your lip when you were bored. A laugh so beautiful that it served as its own positive reinforcement, beckoning others to amuse you again. Were you the one?

Or was it the eyes of your beholder? Maybe you weren’t perfect, maybe that’s why you were in his eyes. Despite all the signs of your singlehood - never in a rush to get home, never a mention of a date - he never truly believed it. It was a war of his flawless intuition and steep infatuation. Either you were the one for him, or he had been wrong all these years.

Get in the bed, idiot.

His stride was steady, captivating, as he made his way to the side of the bed. In habit, Levi crossed his arms across his torso, prepared to lift up, but caught himself halfway. No, he would not be sleeping shirtless tonight. Neither would he sleep in his loose and breathable boxer shorts, but instead, stifling fleece. Already, for one reason or another, he was sweating. Upon approach, the layers upon layers of sheets, blanket, and comforter looked even more suffocating. He caught a glimpse of the thermostat, but then of you, and found your skin laden with goosebumps. Lips rolled beneath his teeth, bargaining, but he could not bring himself to turn the AC up while your body temperature was down. Just as strongly, he refused to do anything that might make you uncomfortable, like taking off his clothes, no matter how badly he wanted to. More words would have served you both well, tearing down the artificial barrier your doubts were constructing.

Can I take this off?

I would love nothing more.

But you were both stupid to imagine that dialogue.

Levi slowly reclined back, sighing as he sunk into the sheets. Already, his skin was burning. He combed his fingers back through his bangs and released a heavy sigh. A heavenly trial, you read it as a hellish endurance, and instinctually apologized, “...I’m sorry about this.”

You have nothing to be sorry for, Levi pondered the response, but deemed it too much. Instead, he feigned a disinterested mumble, “It’s Erwin’s fault.”

You, on the other hand, indulged your gut feeling, “He’s done worse.”

Levi huffed a single exhale, his version of a chuckle.

You turned on your side. He loved that you chose to face him rather than the wall. He hated that he even thought of that. You were so close, he could feel the mattress dip between you, could feel your breath cool against his skin. Eyes fluttering shut, your voice was either sultry or exhausted, a glass-half-full kind of thing. “Good night, Levi.”

Fuck, what a fight, battling the urge to kiss you then and there. Your eyes sparkling, noses nearly touching, he had sworn that this was how all the shitty romcoms went, but he failed to find anything lackluster about this scene. His lips yearned to close that distance, arms ached to perch themselves at your sides. Levi redirected that energy to his hands, fisting the comforter hard as he draped it gently over your shoulders, “Night, (Y/N).”

But how were you going to sleep like this? Although you were running off a 20-hour day, you felt that sleep would be a waste. Queueing for tickets to see your favorite artist, only to close the window the moment your turn came. Styling your hair just to go and get it cut straight after. Champagne dumped down the drain. Mentally, it was an unbearable thought. Physically, your body was even more resistant to the idea. Your middle was fucking throbbing. Nipples stood tall against their skimpy silk covering as if reaching for more contact, his contact. Legs squirmed against one another, trying to smother the burn between them, but you willed them frozen: don’t wake him up.

In your best state of mind, you would have recalled the symptoms of his insomnia: always a tall thermos of caffeine on his desk, perpetual circles under his eyes, especially the times you both worked late. On your way out, you would peek through the pane of glass on his door to wave good-bye. Now and then, he would be hunched over his desk, imprints of the keyboard on his cheek - a makeshift pillow for his crash naps. With a shred of thought, you would have realized he was likely already awake, but you were incapable of even that. It was midnight when you crawled into the king bed. Red digits at your side now read 1:40 AM, yet you knew that not one of those one-hundred minutes had been spent in sleep. Coffee in the morning, nerves on the plane, hormones now, you had left composure back at your apartment and you weren’t sure you’d get it back at any point of this business trip. I mean shit, you swore, this was only the first night.

Only the first night. One of many sure to come, right? How many nights had he gone to bed alone, kept awake with longing of having you by his side? How many mornings had he woken himself up with a sleepy mumble of your name, only to find one half of his bed empty? It couldn’t all be for nothing. Now that he was sharing the bed with you, it was all he ever wanted, yet you were still out of reach. Uncharacteristic, the most reliable man you knew was spiraling in thought.

But to you, it would make sense: the only one who could bring Levi Ackerman down was none other than himself. He saw it a different way: you were the only one who could dismantle him like this.

You could feel his heat emanating, could see his sweat reflecting. Before you could stop yourself, your affection had boiled over, “Levi…” your voice was hoarse, having gone hours without as much as a whisper, and unexpectedly loud. His silver gaze drifted to you, depleting the last of your reserves, you mused, “...you’re hot.”

A statement, not a question. In near pitch blackness, he allowed himself a rare smirk. Levi waited until it faded to turn towards you.

You pinched the hem of his shirt in your fingertips, nails accidentally scraped his abdomen on the way. “Want this off?” You tugged lightly, “I don’t mind.”

At the same time, you shivered, and Levi filled in the blanks to ground his wandering mind. “Cold?” His hands brushed yours on the way to the bottom of the garment. Levi bunched fists in his fabric and lifted it effortlessly up, over, off his head - as he wanted to do all those hours ago. Pent-up relief, he thrust his shirt to you and offered, “Could’ve just asked.”

You were right all along. All along, those loose button-up shirts had covered a chiseled body. He must have been curling with arms like that. A pull-up bar on the back of his bedroom door, how many repetitions did it take to get these muscles? Your eyes scanned every inch of him but could find not one flaw. Your lips were moving, but words failed to emerge. There were a million things you wanted to say to him, to tell him, but only one came through. You received his gift gingerly and muttered, “Thanks.”

This was a moment you had distantly fantasized over for years. Turns out, this was even better than you dreamed. His shirt carried a garden of mint, lavender, and tea leaves in its scent. In putting it on, you felt that you gained a glimpse into Eden. The fabric was satin soft and sheer thin. In watching you wear it, Levi felt in the presence of an angel. It highlighted the curves he loved and introduced him to ones he had never noticed before. Brows narrowed, pupils dilated in his gaze - concerned and deviant. The straight cut forced your waist and hips to confine. The small-pattern chest was clearly never meant to accommodate a body like yours. Threads were spread taut by your cleavage, nearly torn apart as they strained to cover you. In his eyes, he thought it fit you perfectly.

Arms finally through the sleeves. Beneath them, your hairs stood on end. Again, you shivered, but could not pinpoint why. It did not take the shiver, though, to convey your state. Your erect points stood above all. Levi looked to you with both pity and admiration, his voice their lovechild: “Look at you.”

You simmered, embarrassed yet teasing, “Looking isn't helping.” You crossed your arms before your chest and bundled yourself together, “If you really care -”

He did.

“- then do something about it.”

Unfolding the quilt from the foot of the bed, turning up the room’s temperature - those were the most straightforward solutions. But Levi was not thinking straight, and he had a feeling that was what you wanted. Slowly, Levi sifted his arm behind your shoulders, when you snuggled in, he sealed his wrap with a hand at your side.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze descended to meet yours. Likewise, you raised your gaze to meet. Painfully aware that this was a first for the both of you - neither his passion nor your arousal would shut up about it. At the same time, watching you shiver reminded him of all the times he had silently substituted your needs. Behind on work, you never asked for assistance, but would hurriedly throw things his way if Levi offered his help. When your car wouldn’t start that one winter day, who knows how long you would’ve paced in the parking lot had he not pulled his sedan beside yours and given you a jump? A sharp pang seized his heart in realization: he thought you were close, and now you were physically there, yet you still were not comfortable enough to ask him for anything - even though you both wanted it.

“Y’know,” his thumb rubbed your shoulder, “you should learn to just ask for what you want.”

Indeed, 2 AM haze was shrouding his awareness, too - particularly his self-awareness. Was it not him who steeped your tea in the mornings and tidied your desk before he left each night? He could have - should have - just asked you out all those times. How much sooner would this night have come if he had? Levi swore to live without regrets, but that did not stop him from acknowledging the opportunities he had missed thus far. He tossed you the takeaway he wished he had learned long ago: “Makes things a lot easier.”

At first, you thought he was chastising you. The stern monotone of his voice could chill you to the bone at times, but when you took in his expression, you felt warm all over. His brows were not knit, but perched in a tender lift. His breaths were not terse, like when he got annoyed, but slow and calm. At the same time, though, you could feel his heart pounding hard, could hear it when you placed your ear over his chest. Clouded moonlight softened those hardlined features, and again, you wondered if this was your first night together or actually your honeymoon: wasn’t this kind of pillow talk reserved for spouses alone?

A deep swallow, and the last time you checked yourself. Could he have looked any more genuine? Any more readable? Transparent? You didn’t think so. For the man of few words, this was all but an admission of his feelings for you, and it was the best look you had ever seen on him. His advice, his command, invited you to try that outfit on.

“Practice with me?”

One slight nod, so slight - you knew no one would have noticed it but you. In that, you felt your confidence soar, pulling the words from your heart to the air between you both, “Hold me tighter?”

He did.

“Pull me closer?”

He did.

“And kiss me already.”

Levi could not describe it, the feeling that overcame him when he heard your demand. Proud of you. Relieved. At peace yet exhilarated. The serenity that all was right in the world, yet the anticipation of what he had wanted all along. The nature of the kiss aligned with the latter. For two agonizing seconds, he examined you. Assured by the sight of your smile, he longed to taste it for himself. Thumb pressed to the curve of your chin, index finger perched under it, slowly yet with unwavering passion - that was the way Levi brought your lips together.

Soft, as he expected. Expert, as you had. Initial contact was delicate, the warmup slow. Levi always went so hard at everything he did, held such a sharp tongue, which was why the way he brushed against you made your heart stop. You knew strength to be his greatest, most innate feature, and therefore you deciphered that this tenderness was a display of exertion. Levi showed no signs of struggle, though. Touch-starved for you, yet his lips chose to waltz rather than tango. His hand on your chin drifted to the back of your neck. Nape cupped in his palm, he used that leverage to drift you here and there, allowing him to taste all of you - encouraging you to do the same with him.

Levi tasted like peppermint, the brand so sharp that it made you sneeze now and then, he had learned after enough lunch breaks. You tasted like cinnamon, the stick that baristas stuck in his chai come the colder months. When your tongues met, they created a new taste. After minutes of exchange, they became addicted to it. Their craving demanded all efforts in that search: Levi’s grip pulled you closer, you threw an arm over his back. Breaths turned to gasps, a wordless understanding of all you would do for the other: grab his mail on the way in, walk you to your car at night, and kiss until you were out of breath.

The thought had never crossed your mind, but his actions disintegrated it - the possibility that this was some selfish, opportunistic spell. Levi was nearly shaking with anticipation, his erection pained with neglect, but that did not influence his pace. Each time you thought the makeout might end, he would catch his breath with “pretty girl…” before joining you once again. His kiss was lovely, as was the spark at your middle, but his ardor was gas to your flame, and before you knew it, you were ablaze. You found your body rise against his, pushing off the mattress, and rolling to grind against the friction of his rigid figure. Levi was everything you ever wanted, and maybe you were just that desperate or just that greedy - the fact that you needed more. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

You thought twice before breaking from the kiss, one last deep plunge of your tongue to his throat before pulling away, conscious to savor the taste. “Levi…” you sighed.

A string of saliva hung between you, the clean freak calmly closed his fist over it, and you felt yourself shudder again, “can we keep practicing?”

His lips were one degree north of flat, about as big of a smile as anyone would see on Ackerman. Tonight, just the two of you here, it felt inexplicably, particularly special. “Make love to me.”

An advanced learner, you always went the extra mile. Back then, Levi had no doubt, it was the reason you had been promoted so quickly. Now, it was that you had aced the first lesson and jumped to the next: no longer asking, demanding already. Sentimental was not a feeling he knew, but proof that you were this comfortable with him was indeed something.

His praise reflected that feeling back onto you, “That’s right, good girl.” The back of his hand brushed unruly strands from your face. A kiss on your forehead rewarded, “like that.”

Once more, he pressed his lips to yours, but it was not even a second that he stayed - just a starting point to the journey that was exploring your body. Lips slid to the corner of your mouth, down your jawline, neck, then chest. A trail of hickeys and teeth grazes was left - tomorrow’s meetings and your professionalism having vanished from his mind. His hands joined the excursion: one gentle yet relishing in its caress of your neck, the other crawled up your - his - shirt. The familiar texture of his old garment contrasted with the novel feel of your skin. Muscles twitched with satisfaction, disrupting the fluidity of his motions, but you found beauty in the unpredictability of his touch. Rose-colored lenses were blind to the signs of his weakness, instead chalking those movements up to Levi’s expertise. As you tipped your head back and sighed, Levi figured it was the first misunderstanding that had done you two any good tonight.

On his descent, he could not help but take a stop at your breasts. Turns out, it was never just his imagination, but given your curvature, of course your buttons would have been stretched to contain you. Those blouses had been his guilty favorite for that very reason, but his tight t-shirt was taking a close second. No, that slip you wore when you joined him in the bathroom, that must’ve been the best, right? Blood rushed, pupils dilated, his body anxious for a visual refresher.

You were going faster than he could have hoped. Already, he was proud of you for having graduated to demands. Now, you had learned to act on your own - either having read his mind or listening to your own desires. Levi could not decide which possibility he preferred, but when you lifted your top and perched it at your clavicle, he was ashamed to admit that his mind had discarded all other affairs.

Levi nestled his cheek in your cleavage, and though you were over a thousand miles away, he felt he was at home. Warm pillows cupped him, and both of you felt that the space was made for him to fill. Levi’s breath was hot on your skin, yet your nipples appeared as though you were in a winter wilderness. Of course, he took notice in all your details, and sighed in mutual enamor, “Fuck, baby…”

It was a tone you had never heard in his voice before. Desperation and desire in a man so ever assured and disinterested, you felt your panties drip from damped to soaked. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You, too, was what you thought to say, but somehow, the word seemed inadequate. His body was artwork: a symmetric abdomen, muscular forearms, veins that stood against his skin, you longed to trace him as such. Bangs that fell perfectly imperfectly over his face, begging that you run your fingers through them: mess with them now, gel them straight in the morning. You could slice paper on that jawline, could get lost in his eyes. No matter how long you stared, and stared you had, Levi was like the sunset: even after a hard day, always breathtakingly gorgeous.

Especially with the perspective you had now. One hand cupped your waist, the other your breast, perching you into his mouth, eye contact deliberately maintained throughout his movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Levi’s tongue swirled your nipple before his lips audibly slurped. “To get what you want…”

Again, the fog of the nameless hours between night and day had blinded him to the relevance his words had to himself. How long had he wanted this? How good did it feel? He had no verbal answer for it, only the fervor of his actions: sprightly tongue and rocks of his hips. As you always had, you filled his gaps: while he could not fathom the words, yours overflowed.

“Oh, Levi… Fuck, Levi…!” your desperate cries of his name made him leak onto the hotel sheets, no longer pristine. Your harsh exhales ran currents through his hair, and suddenly, it seemed you two had traded temperatures. Now, he was the one shivering while you sweat through the shirt. For his fever, he craved one antidote. Crawling down your body, his approach to the medicine cabinet. He prepared to ask for his dosage.

“My turn.”

Huh?

You propped yourself up on your elbows and took a good look. A good look: Levi had wedged himself between your legs. Fingers caressed your thighs with a precise pressure, a touch that tickled in a way that made you want more, yet was strong enough that he could push your hips to the mattress and pry your legs apart. You had to bunch your fists and rub your eyes to check, maybe 3 AM was just fucking with you.

Levi read your search for reassurance and inserted conviction into his tone. His stare and voice unwavering, “Can I taste you?”

Yeah, 3 AM was definitely fucking with you, for this was too good to be true. His sharp chin dwindled above the soft of your sex. His gaze set on your soul. Both of you agreed: his hands had never felt so calloused until they met your smooth thighs. It was a dream you would have woken up thankful to have had bestowed on you, but the grip he had on you was so perpetually undeniable: this was real. Head spinning, mind raced to catch up, yet Levi’s wait was so astonishingly still. Levi knew he would make you feel good. Based on your state, it seemed he was already doing that. Now, you just had to say yes, but he would not push you towards any one answer, nor would he do anything more until you arrived at it. If you wanted it, you had to ask for it, sweetheart.

A flood of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one screaming over the other, you felt you were drowning. In your search for stability, you relied on your sense of sight: Levi Ackerman between your legs. What the fuck are you waiting for?

“Y’Yes, Levi.” You reached down and held his forehead. As you brushed his bangs from his face, he offered another half-smile, but it was brief, for he was past the point of eager. Still, the calm in his pace remained. Slowly, his hands snaked from the backs of your thighs to the sides of your hips. Thumbs hooked between the straps of your panties and your skin. His fingers clenched over them, bringing the garment past your knees, down your shins, and off your ankles. From chest to toes, you were now entirely exposed. At first, you wrangled with embarrassment, but his infatuation was your comfort. Hunger seized his vision, thirst drove his actions. You had nothing to be afraid of.

His earlier route, lips to neck, neck to chest, chest to torso, was now mirrored. Levi cupped your heels in his hand and lifted your feet, allowing him to plant kisses up and up your legs, drags of his tongue followed to connect the dots. Minutes gone by, and even after having pocketed your consent, he still had yet to put his mouth there. Spending time to appreciate your thighs, he wanted you to know how long he had been anticipating this, and now that he had finally landed his spot, he would be damn sure to save the best bite for last.

Left arm wrapped around your thigh, Levi nestled his head against it, allowing his perspective to stay sound on your sex. His right hand trailed from your knee to your middle, and at last, you knew he was getting started. At first, it was his fingertips, and at that mere first touch came your sudden awakening as to how dire your desire had grown. Your hands flew back and clutched your pillow, Levi admired the tendons that rose in your wrist, and your voice, “A’Ahh!!”

He shot one glance up to check on you, but the look on your face ensured you were more than okay. With that, he decided to repeat the pattern of his rubs. Index and middle finger paired as they rode the sliver between your lips, your arousal slickened his knuckles. Once wet enough, he would split his digits into a V, each one taking responsibility for one of your folds. When that friction ran dry, he would return to your core, a seemingly never-ending source of lubrication, to run the process back again. You should not have been surprised, for everything with him was purposed - in the office or in the bedroom. With your interior and exterior in a coat of your own clear, he would have the freedom to run his mouth, no need to lick his lips or garner more saliva. Years of anticipation, now that the moment had arrived, he was going to spend the extra seconds to make sure this went according to plan.

Your glisten was so thorough, looking at you, Levi swore he could see his own weak reflection, the blush on his cheeks, the sweat on his forehead. In that way, his plunge was accelerated: preferring to trade the sight of his unruly state for the taste of you. Lips circled to match your curves, and you quickly identified this as a familiar feeling in an unfamiliar place. Levi was kissing you with the same tenderness he had displayed in your makeout, only now, he was between your legs. His jaw stretched wide to ensure he could reach every inch, from the top of your cleft, along your crescent sides, and to the spot where they rejoined. With his mouth in control, he let his hands indulge in your body, adorned upon your delectable waist, light squeezes of your ass, and massaging the divots of your inner thighs. His lips practiced that motion with a goal of perfection. Meanwhile, his tongue distracted you from any signs of his learning. Slow, purposed drags from bottom to top made your love pool on the tip of his tongue - each accumulation swallowed with a satisfied groan. Levi’s oral was pristine, only an occasional slurp and smack, allowing both of your vocals to take the stage. Your sky-high gasps, his low and satiated moans. He lived for the moments you would syllabize his name “Le-vi…” His “there you go” always followed, implicitly begging for more.

His neck began to bob in support of his movements. With that came a whole new level of pressure and slate of angles. His sharp nose slanted against your curves, lovely opposite to your soft. Your scent and your taste moved mountains within him, and in that, he noticed: his emotional pull was just as strong as his physical. All his life, he had grown to love bitter tastes, perhaps because they had been force fed to him. You were the first cube of sugar to have landed in his drink. Now, he had honey straight from the source. Levi felt his erection press hard against the mattress, “Fuck…” he whined, “you taste so good.”

Breath caught in your throat, all you could manage was a light sigh. As your lips twitched, he generously helped, taking the words right out of your mouth. “You have no idea…no idea -” Levi moaned, “how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this.”

At those words alone, you felt you might climax right then. Had he been eavesdropping on your dreams? How did he know that you had been fantasizing over that exact sentence for an unspeakable amount of time? “Me - Me too, Levi…”

Your admission was even sweeter, lifting his feelings from indulgence to fulfillment. All the nights he had spent awake, wondering if you were thinking of him the way he was of you, your confession was confirmation that this had been requited all that time. Levi found it both gratifying and maddening: gratifying to have discovered that your feelings were mutual, maddening how many years had gone by until that discovery. Levi grew determined to make up for all that time, revenge reflected in the acceleration of his actions.

Levi shoved his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you into a shameless, unhideable angle. Good thing, he mused, no more hiding. Shoulders propped at your midthigh, keeping you perched apart. Fingers wrapped around your skin, he pulled you down the bed and crashed you onto his face. Your gasp was exhausted as you tried to keep up. Both of you knew, though: you were no match. As his tongue thrust to unfathomable depths, you likewise could not conjure any idea of how to withstand this. Nose rubbed against your swollen bud, brows narrowed in determination, he looked nearly angry. Working hard for your climax, harder than he had for anything else, even his own.

Shit…!

If this keeps up…

A telltale tide turned in your tummy, spasms sparkled along your legs. Fingernails pierced the pillowcase, fighting off your impending loss of control. You could not delay it, not unless he - You fisted your hand in his hair, and he thought this was it. Instead, you pushed him away. “L’Le-vi…” a series of rapid pants, “hah, hah, ho’ld… on!”

His tongue flattened still. Between the vertex of your legs, his steel attention rose to you. Not anxious, but concerned, You alright?

“I, I want -”

At those words, he once again simmered with pride, thankful you had taken his ask for what you want to heart. After a few more breaths, you managed the minimum composure to plead, “I wanna cum with you.”

Levi’s first thought was one of generosity, you know you can have - I can give you - more than one, right? But he knew you better, and he knew what you meant. You wanted your first to be with him, and though he was parched with thirst, desperate for the taste of your cum in his mouth, your wants were foremost his. With a deep, patient breath, he watched your twitches slow to still. When the threat of your orgasm vanished, he calmly laid one final kiss to your core, etching your taste into his memory. His silver stare swallowed you down, a mental polaroid of your pose. His palm massaged your sex in physical praise, promising that he would never make you wait again, and that he’d definitely make you cum next time.

He started to ascend back up your body, but you flung yourself forward and met him halfway. Brows arched in shock, his eyes widened briefly, you closed them with another kiss. Mint flavor of before had been washed away by the taste of you. Further evidence of his devotion, you desired to prove that you were just as committed to him. You hooked your elbow to his nape and threaded fingers through his undercut - your turn to pull him here and there, granting yourself the freedom to explore the parts of him that you had always wanted to. Most of all, the length growing harder and harder to ignore.

Still, you were conscious to withhold your rush. You endeavored to slow your pace so that you could match the one he had performed on you. How good it felt - he deserved to feel it, too. You ran your hands down his chest the way rain slid down a windshield. Levi felt his boxers turn wet when your palms pressed upon his pecs, the buds of your hands kneading his tender patches. His exhales turned crackly, his inhales uneven. Laying kisses on each of his abs, down and down his torso, your contact held the compliments you were too shy to say. He heard them and reciprocated them: arm wrapped around your waist, bruises where his fingertips pressed - he hoped they would stay till morning, and that when you saw them, you would remember the love he had shown you tonight

Finally, you dipped your fingertips below his waistband. Sweat glazed his hips, allowing you to slide your hands in, but at this point, there was not much room for you. His erection had taken all his threads had to offer. You spared him the begging, sliding his cotton down his outstretched legs and finally releasing him from their confinement. Soaked in his own anticipation, veins visible, his arc steep. The shade of his member matched the one of his cheeks: the pink of a vulnerable blush, the crimson of ardent lust. As he watched you watch him, another dribble of clear dripped down his length. Levi grit his teeth and cursed. From stifling heat to cool air, that drench turned from comforting to exhilarating. In the wake of his tried swears, you gently cupped your hand around his girth and cleaned him as best as you could, spreading the leakage of his tip down to his base - his shaft your path. Contrast to his stress, you soothed him as you always had, just a different context this time.

It was his turn to cling to the sheets. Hands clawed into the comforter, you watched without shame, enchanted by the way his forearms flexed. Heels ground to the mattress, toes curled in sheets. Each motion was accompanied by either a sharp inhale or short exhale. Was it sadistic or considerate of you to keep pumping him despite that?

Levi loathed the way he stuttered through your name, on the other hand, you adored it. Levi cupped the back of your head in his hand and tugged your ear to his lips. His breath was hot on your cusp, yet somehow, it sent chills through you. Your sex had landed atop his lap, his cock nestled between your folds, still wet from his prior excursion. Pleasure had him growling, the look in his eyes both commanding and desperate, “Let me take you.”

Obliging and insisting: as one, you leaned back and he pressed forward. Your head landed atop the plump pillow, his hand beside it. Before you could blink, he had plummeted onto your lips again. This kiss was so opposite of all prior: his tongue demanding entrance, grazes of his teeth, and bites of your lip, loud and messy. You had cut Levi Ackerman to his last thread of composure, that was where you had always wanted him.

And this was how he had always wanted you: your most unabashed, honest, purest and filthiest self. He always found it so painfully obvious, how much you strained to stay prim and proper, polite and professional at work. It was why he lived for the times you slipped up: an eye roll in meetings, the long sigh after a conference call. Levi knew that the real you was there, and now you were here: in this shared bed with his shadow cast over your skin.

There was just one thing, though, that differed from his expectations. Desire was painted on each of your features, but they were glossed in nerves. Twitches in your lip, rattle in your lungs, eyes glistening, he feared they were tears. You cinched your hand around his wrist, and he recognized that smile. It was the kind you donned when you spilled your coffee or showed up late. Adorable, but unassured, and that would not do in this context.

“You’re nervous.” Levi did not ask you, for he knew his intuition was accurate. “Wanna stop?”

You shook your head and insisted vehemently, “No.” With a tilt of your chin and arch of your back, your lips brushed his with each word you spoke. Seeped down his throat, understanding swallowed: “I want to start.”

Levi returned your characteristic smile with one of his own. Tipping your foreheads together, “You’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

An order or a question? Either way, your heart scoffed at the idea. You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? There was no chance in hell you would change your mind.

“Or if it gets too much.”

That, there was a chance of. It had taken him mere minutes between your legs to bring you to the point of screaming and to the brink of climax, but that was what you wanted. His consideration fed you calm, you fed him reassurance. The flicker in your gaze settled, meeting his of solid steel. You tucked his bangs behind his ear and affirmed, “I’m ready, Levi.”

Fronts pressed, heartbeats matching, there was only one connection left to make. By the grips of his hands on the backs of your shoulders, Levi pulled himself those last crucial inches, and closed that final gap. His tip slick with precum, your slit dripping with anticipation, yet accommodating him was no easy fit. He had spent all that time down there with the goal of making it easy on you, but watching your face scrunch and hearing your voice whine was not half bad, either.

In fact, he had not even made it halfway in yet, and you were already writhing. Levi bit the inside of his cheek and knit his brows, careful not to push you too hard, conscious for signs of your apprehension. You sensed his wavering and clawed his back, pulling yourself further down his length.

Looking up, his expression was strained. Reaching new depths, pushing past your initial walls, his voice poured exertion. Still, he did not stop pushing. Toes arched into the mattress, calves flexed with each labored drive. Each fuck brought the two of you closer. For him, one more inch of his length. For you, one more stretch of pleasure. For the couple, a proximity you had always wanted. Each of you felt a tremendous responsibility to be the one to close that distance.

Repetition after repetition, his muted grunts melted to audible groans. The air between you was no longer saturated by your gasps alone, but his as well. His strain was the only thing that could ground you from nirvana and back down to earth. Despite his squint, he caught that transition: from the throes of sensation to the snap back to reality, all because you were concerned for his well-being. More than any sense of pleasure, your affection was what made his heart pound in his chest. Doe eyes gazed upon him, You okay?

After a series of hahs and ahs, Levi managed just a couple words, “It feels - It feels…”

Good? Bad? Your heart tensed in anticipation. Pleading and ordering, “Tell me, Levi.”

Knuckles tight, fingers trembling, “...good!” Levi clenched his teeth and pulled himself forward with an aim of backing his words with his actions. After struggling to past your entrance, the force of this fuck brought his tip to your end, drawing shrieks from you and shock from him. Strength of his magnitude had pros and cons, he supposed. His flaws, you deemed them his perfections.

The damp of your cunt was audible, resounding throughout the room. You found yourself at an impossible choice: which was more embarrassing, your voice or your sex? Levi’s thought was similar and opposite, the same choices, just which was better? Levi decided that their symphony was best, and realized he could turn up its volume if he accelerated his pace.

“Levi, Levi…!” To say his name came naturally, practically a swear word: the satisfaction of cursing after injury or mistake, so wrong yet so right to scream it out loud.

Pleasurable pain when he hit your weakest points, a delightful exercise as your walls stretched to accommodate him. His eyes remained set on your face, ears tuned to your voice, translating your body language into instructions. Rapid thrusts to make you pant, but only until you started to choke on your own gasps. Then, he would decelerate, replacing speed with strength. When he filled you up, you would sigh and roll your eyes back. To Levi, that was the sign to dial it back up and get you there.

Since this started, his read on you had been perfectly accurate. You were almost there. Simultaneously yet unknowingly, your inner voices warned: you won’t last much longer. The thing was, you didn’t want to, for you had endured so much already. The heat in your middle was unbearable now. Each nerve had been fried to its last end. This sex had gone on for hours, but your yearning had been years long. In your haze, you were blind towards any reason to deny yourself any longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and relied on your calves to pull him closer. Bringing him to your end made Levi approach his. “Fuck…!” His voice was a low singsong, an adult lullaby. “(Y/N), (Y/N)...!” No longer a choice between deep or fast, Levi somehow managed both. Physiology threatened to overrule now. No, already…!

“(Y/N), I…I’m - ! ” His mind was racing now. Should he ask to cum or tell you he was? Should he withdraw so that you could get there first? Levi labored to open his eyes, looking to you for an answer. His senses of sight and touch told him: you were already there.

The pulsation around his cock, the steep arch of your spine, your parted lips and blissed-out face. The scrape of your nails down his back, ignorant to the possibility of hurting him. This was how Levi had always wanted it: to be the one you clung to, to offer himself when you were overwhelmed. Count on me. The orgasm that overwhelmed you now, that had been his doing, right?

Once again, it was as if you had read his mind. Without him having to ask, you answered: “Levi, Levi!!” Your hands squeezed him tight, white patches beneath your fingertips. Clinging to him, the life raft through each of your waves. “Y’Yours… I’m yours…”

He had gifted you tissues for your crying spells at work, had picked up your lunch on the way back from break, but this provision was far preferable, much more fulfilling. Even as you turned his skin red, even as your legs clenched him and squeezed air from his lungs - no, even better - those were precisely the motions that pushed him over the edge.

One hand clutched the top of the headboard, tight enough that you heard the wood wince. The other caressed your face with feathered tenderness. In that difference, you were once again reminded of his duality: on one hand, a hardass, but for you, a soft spot. Those dimensions were reflected in his voice, too: swears that made your ears burn and groans that turned the air heavy, yet arid gasps that lifted your soul and praise fit for a princess. While your cunt had run raw and slippery from his fucking, his warm cum filled you and soothed your stings.

As you both came to, Levi lingered inside, patiently waiting until each of your waves crashed - savoring them. With a deep swallow and a delicate nod, he ensured he would handle your aftercare. Kleenex from the nightstand folded and padded against your sex. You sat up in panic, worried about the clean freak’s reaction, but he seemed particularly satisfied. Maybe it wasn’t that he hated filth, but that he loved clean-up. You bit your lip and bit back a smile, believing that the sex tonight had evidenced that.

Though his aftercare was doing much for your affection, it did pathetically little when it came to cleanliness. Both of you realized, not even the entire box would be enough. Levi looked at the wad of tissues in his hand, shook his head, and scowled, nearly laughing at the ineffectiveness. “We’re filthy.”

Slowly, you made your way to his side. Carefully, you reached your arms around his back. Wrapped within your grasp, you leaned him back against your chest and whispered into his ear, “Good thing there’s a shower.”

Levi spun just enough to meet your eye contact, once again checking to see if he had heard you right. Three hours ago, he would have defaulted towards the no, always having believed one could not be let down if they did not get their hopes up. Over the years and especially tonight, your optimism was swaying that opinion. Your sound smile and unafraid stare confirmed: after all that mess, you were also keen for cleanliness. In post-coital clarity, he saw how stupid he had been to wait this long, and Levi almost said those three sacred words right then and there.

But this was only the first night of the trip.

And the first day of the rest of your lives.

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #snk x you #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #oneshot #2023 #smut #salt and pepper

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chuuyascumsock · 9 months

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Hop On That Delulu Train Bestie || Minors DNI

Summary: HOOOLY S H I T. WHY. DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF? May you all find peace one day and cure your chronic horniness and delusions for men who would never want you irl <3 (Just like me fr). Anyways, this has been sitting and gathering cobwebs for weeks now, but I’ve decided to finish it in honor of chapter 109. Keep being delulu babe.

Tags: Dazai Osamu/Reader, Afab reader, Soft Dom Dazai, Fingering, Cunnilingus (Why Is That Such A Silly Word), Pussy IS Therapy Ig, He Just Seems Like An Avid Pussy Eater Idk, Would Definitely Use Your Thighs As Earmuffs, Sorry Y’all Don’t Get The Dick <3, I Was Too Lazy To Turn This Into A Full Smut.

The quiet hum of a low light lamp buzzes through your ears as your eyes flicker over the words to the page mindlessly. Reading was boring, watching television was boring, everything was boring.

You look over to the clock on your nightstand and let out a loud sigh. Nearly midnight and he had still yet to walk through the door as he usually does and smother you with sweet nothings and soft kisses. Your gaze falls back onto your book, the romance novel glaring back with the most dull descriptions and irritating plot. You shut the book, tossing it aside as you groan and knock your head back against the headboard of your bed.

Picking up your phone that sits on the nightstand dresser, you note the empty screen with no obnoxious texts from a certain brunette. It was almost worrying not seeing his name on your lock screen with a bunch of random emojis spammed next to it. Unlocking your phone, you re-read your last text sent to him nearly two hours ago— asking when he’d be home.

You start to wonder if he’s late because of another failed suicide attempt, but you quickly let the thought pass when you finally hear the front door open. It closes almost silently, muffled footsteps growing closer to your room. Your eyes focus on your door frame as Dazai finally steps in, his clothes disheveled and hair messy.

“ ‘Samu…” You murmur, slightly taken aback at his appearance.

His warm brown eyes travel over to the bed where you lay and a small smile curls onto his lips as he shuffles over and climbs onto your side of the bed, his face and upper body planting atop of your legs. He heavily inhales before exhaling, his hot breath blowing against the skin of your thighs. Subconsciously, one of your hands makes its way into his hair and begins to comb through his tangled tresses. His arms wrap around under your legs and lock them in place.

“My love…” He whispers back, his body relaxing on you as his feet hang over the bottom edge of the bed. He kicks his shoes off and allows them to thump to the ground.

“You didn’t answer my text, something happen?” Your brows scrunch together in concern.

Dazai sighs, pressing a light kiss against your thigh, “My phone was in my pocket during a shoot out and it was sadly destroyed.”

You wait for him to make a joke about wishing the bullet went through his skull instead, but it never comes to your surprise. “Oh… Well, I guess we can go look for a new one tomorrow then.” You finish unknotting his hair with your fingers as a moment of silence settles over the both of you before you add, “I’m guessing today was rough then?”

He hums in return, enjoying the way your hand runs through his hair affectionately. “Kunikida made me do my paperwork,” He pouts, his chin coming to rest on your thighs to look up at you.

You briefly laugh, patting his head before speaking with a mock-sympathetic tone, “Aw, my poor baby…”

He huffs, burying his face back into the plush of your thighs, “You don’t sound very genuine, that’s very mean you know… He’s always bullying me around.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, knowing full well that whatever shit Kunikida gives Dazai— he deserves every bit of it for his shenanigans. You’ve only met him a few times as well as Dazai’s other co-workers, but it was safe to say that if anyone was being bullied— it was that poor bastard, Kunikida. “Oh, really? And you don’t bother the hell out of him until he loses his shit?” You stop running your hand through his hair.

Dazai gasps, overdramatically, of course, “I would never! Kunikida is my respectable co-worker who I value and treat with the utmost—“

“Then why do I get calls from him begging me: “For the love of God, please come get your terrorizing bastard of a boyfriend, I can’t do it anymore.” Huh?”

Cue another gasp, “You’re talking to other men?! Kunikida no less!?”

You roll your eyes, “It was originally because he called me to come get you every time you decided to take a dip in the canal, now it’s a complaint hotline for you.” You poke an index finger against his forehead firmly.

“Owie…” He brings a hand up to rub his forehead, bottom lip jutting out.

“You’re a handful, you know that?” You grumble, staring down at him, “I deserve a medal for putting up with your shenanigans.”

“Isn’t my love enough?” Dazai whines, making puppy eyes at you.

A sigh leaves your lips, “Yeah… You’re lucky you’re cute.”

His lips quirk up back into a smile and he nuzzles his face back against your skin, placing small kisses to your thighs.You don’t really keep count, but it takes a few pecks until he gently nips at your thigh.

“Hey—“ You squeak, pushing at his head which causes him to chuckle, “You’re doing that on purpose.”

The kisses on your thighs grow sloppy before he moves his arms from around your legs to nudge them apart, his body fitting between your legs. He quickly maneuvers your thighs until the backs of your thighs press against the tops of his shoulders, arms wrapping around your legs to keep you against him. “What? I’m just getting comfortable, my love.” He plays off innocently, his cheek squishing against one of your thighs as he looks up at you.

Your brows furrow, heat crawling up your neck as you glare back suspiciously, “I know what you’re doing.”

“And is it a bad thing?” He chimes back, going back to kissing your thighs.

You shiver, feeling his wet lips leave a trail of saliva to air along the insides of your thighs, “You know I’m—“

“Sensitive? Yeah,” He trails off with a noise that sounds like a groan mixed with a hum.

At this point, you feel a tingle crawl up your spine and warmth spread across your face. A fuzziness begins to form in your mind as his lips grow closer to the edge of your sleep shorts.

He pauses when he gets to your shorts, his face pulling away and his hands coming to tug at the hem of your shorts. “Want these off,” He mumbles, pulling at them.

You’re quick to lift your hips and slip your shorts down your legs, Dazai’s hands fumbling along yours to throw them to the side. He buries his face between your legs once more to press his lips along your inner thighs until he reaches your underwear. His face pushes forward until his lips press against your cunt and nose nudges your clit through the thin fabric.

A strangled moan passes your lips as he meets your flustered gaze, and although you can’t see his mouth with it pressed against you— you can tell he’s smirking through his eyes.

He softly breathes in before placing a searing kiss against your clothed pussy, causing your thigh to slightly twitch in his grasp. “I missed this pretty little pussy— haven’t tasted it in days,” He groans before bringing a finger to pull your underwear aside and reveal your glossy folds to him. His gaze is greedy as he parts your folds with two fingers, mouth watering at your slicked insides.

“Don’t stare…”

“Awe, but I can’t help it— looks so good,” Dazai breathes out before leaning forward to slip his tongue flat between your spread folds, licking up to your clit to collect your taste on his tongue. “Tastes good too…” He groans, lapping his tongue through for a second time, “I could spend the whole day eating this pussy out until you’re quivering and begging for me to stop.”

A strung-out whimper escapes your throat as you watch him. Heat burns the nape of your neck, the dizzy feeling hitting you twice as hard as your eyelids lull.

Dazai is shameless in his sucking and slurping of lips and tongue against your dripping cunt as loudly as possible. He doesn’t hold back any of his needy groans and muffled whimpers as he tastes every drop of arousal you have to offer. He strains painfully against the confines of his pants as he holds back the urge to fold you in half and fuck you on his cock until your drooling cunt is filled to the brim with his cum.

His tongue delves into your tight hole, the warm muscle wriggling against your clenching walls before sliding out. After repeating the process a few times, he moves to suck at your throbbing clit, sighing at the way it pulses against his tongue. There’s a small ‘pop’ when he pulls away reluctantly to replace his mouth with his lengthy, thin fingers.

“I love the way you squirm under my touch— drives me crazy— you know that?” Dazai grins before sinking a finger into your wet hole.

An airy gasp leaves your lips as you try to move away from him in surprise, only to have his grip tighten around your thigh with his free hand. “ ‘Samu, I—“ Your fingers clench into the sheets on the bed.

“I know, my love— feel good?” He borderline coos, eyes glued to the way you sucked his finger back in with every pump. “I bet it does, your fingers just don’t reach like mine, do they?” He adds a second finger, his digits curving into your gummy sweet spot.

Your hips involuntarily buck in to meet his thrusting fingers, your pussy squelching around his lithe digits. He leers at the obscene image of your sweet cunt swallowing his fingers down to the knuckle with a lewd moan.

“Good girl, keep fucking yourself on my fingers like that,” He croons, leaning forward to suck at your puffy clit again.

Surges of pleasure rampage within you as you clamp your shaking thighs around his head, grinding your aching pussy against his mouth and fingers. “M’gonna come, s’too much—“ You whimper.

“Come on my tongue— wanna feel that pussy clench around my fingers,” Dazai muffles a groan against your sensitive clit which has you coming undone and vehemently shivering from the feeling of your climax.

Dazai slides his fingers out of your pulsing hole and presses his tongue against your drenched pussy as you ride out your orgasm— his tongue not missing a single drip of arousal. He sighs quietly when he’s finished and pulls away, your bare sex covered in merely his spit now.

With your chest heaving from the aftermath, your head weakly shifts to watch Dazai sit up on his knees and hover over. “ ‘S-Samu…”

“Shh, I know, my love,” He laughs softly— and you think he’s going to redress you before cuddling into you like he usually does, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hand trails down to unzip his pants, the tip of his pre-cum leaking cock peeking out of his waistband. He pushes both his pants and boxers to his mid thighs before stroking his hard cock.

“You’re tired, so why don’t you just lay back and let me fuck that pretty pussy to sleep, hm?”

#dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd smut #devious dambi smuts

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darling-im-wonderstruck · 10 months

Note

could you write something where peter and reader are having a study date, but peter falls asleep and reader just lets him be/tucks him in?? tysm

don’t want to miss a thing.

synopsis : getting peter to sleep wasn’t going to be as difficult as you’d thought.

pairing : bf!peter parker x reader

wc : 490 +

warnings : none ! super fluffy sleepy!peter is all you need to worry about :) (normal sized text belowww + this is college!peter)

‎‎ masterlist | request | navigation

a/n : hi nonnie !! thank you so so much for this request <3 i actually whipped this one up pretty quickly because of the rush of inspiration your request gave me hehe :) hope you enjoy it !

it was nearly midnight when you started to notice peter’s eyelids practically begging to fall, his head was inching closer and closer to the surface of your desk. which, admittedly, was somewhat adorable. he’d been like this for the past hour, though it was getting progressively worse every passing minute.

you were in your room, catching up on some studies alongside peter. the boy found every single excuse to be with you, and when you said that you didn’t have time (due to your need to study), he came up with the perfect compromise. a study date.

though, by the time he’d come back from patrolling, it was already 10 pm, and naturally, he was exhausted. but you knew peter, therefore, you knew he was going to put up a fight rather than accepting defeat and falling asleep.

“pete, you look like you’re about to pass out.” you say softly, causing him to whip his head to your direction.

“no, no, no, no. i’m wide awake!” he shoots himself up, making you let out a small laugh, causing the tenseness of his body to disappear. your laugh comforted him.

“i think you need some rest. c’mon, this can wait.” you stood up and gestured for him to go to your bed, but he shakes his head.

“‘m okay, really.” his attempt to assure you was failing, given that he was falling asleep as he said that very sentence.

“you’re so cute when you’re tired.” you smile at him, he returned it with a lazy smile and continued to attempt answering a few practice questions on his worksheet.

“you think so?” he has a smug smirk on his face. gosh. you couldn’t help but giggle.

“just tell me when you wanna call it a day, okay?” you say as you sat back down beside him and continued your work.

“talk to me? tell me about your day, that’ll help keep me up.” he asks, keeping himself focused on his work.

“oh! okay then! well, after class, while you were out, i ended up coming over and talking to may, and she showed me a bunch of your baby photos, which, might i say, were so cute.” peter sat closer to you, and you thought nothing of it as you continued talking.

“mhm…” his responses became increasingly incoherent as you continued talking about what aunt may had told you. he was falling asleep before he began to realize it.

“so then, i asked may- oh, you’re asleep.” your voice starts with its normal volume and you quiet down as you realize.

oh.

he’d found a comfortable spot on your shoulder as you were talking and slowly began to drift off. you observed a small, barely there smile that he had as he slept. his arms were rested around your waist and his face was buried into the crook of you neck. he was finally relaxed.

you found it increasingly difficult to move at all, in fear of him waking up, so you decided that it’d be good for you to get some rest as well.

you press a soft kiss on his cheek (and you may or may not have taken a quick photo of him for your wallpaper) before resting your head gently on his, but you felt him move ever so slightly, so you lift your head up, and so did he.

all he did was smile at you, and you did the same, right before he rubbed his eyes and rested himself onto your shoulder yet again.

work could wait, this, however, couldn’t.

taglist : (send me an ask to be added hehe !) @live-laugh-lovejoy

a/n : thank you for reading loves !!!! requests are open, as per usual, pls just be patient w me, feel free to reblog as it is very important to support writers <3

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tomriddleslove · 3 months

Text

What’s left of me?

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where your pursuit for excellence leads you down a path of self destruction, and you’re slowly loosing yourself. You didn’t expect a certain boy in your year would be your saving grace. Alternatively: Mattheo makes you realise you’re more than what you think you are.

A/N: I guess this could very easily be like a prequel to the other mattheo one shot ‘i’m here’. This is definitely a bit self indulgent but we all have our things 😻😻

Warnings: Allusions to overdosing (brief), mentions of not eating.

Songs: Nothings New - Rio Romeo

18 days.

18 days till you would be finished with all of this.

Technically, it would actually be 408 days till you finished school and graduated from this godforsaken place, but 18 more till you finished with exams.

You weren’t sure how many more hours you could spend hunched over indecipherable handwriting, pouring over text till your eyes stung and your back ached. Surrounded by a stack of books and rolls of parchment, you couldn’t even begin to figure out where you ended and the library began. You had taken up a huge table (that could seat at least 4) for the better part of 17 hours, sat on the same chair since 6:00 am.

You stifle a small groan of pain as you roll your wrist, stiff and sore from the hell that was ancient runes.

There are ink splotches all over your skin, and you’re sure the amount of work you were pouring into this stopped being effective nearly 5 hours ago.

Your eyes flicker up and scan over the once-packed library that had slowly dwindled down to a few students, half of whom were in the same boat as you.

To you, being the last person in the library was a huge sign of success. It meant you were more dedicated and more hard-working.

In reality, the truth couldn’t be any further from that, but in your mind, if you weren’t milking yourself over every last piece of work it simply wasn’t being done right.

The hushed murmurs and sounds of parchment being unfurled fade into the background as your quill scratches furiously against the parchment, mind running at a million miles an hour.

You ignore the pang in your stomach as you work; you haven’t eaten today. You didn’t want to get up at any point to get food, for fear of your place being taken.

Now, you didn’t want to get up for another reason. It was well past the library's open hours and Madame Pince was angrily fussing about, bustling around everyone as she got them to leave. A testament to how long you had been there, she didn’t even seem to notice you, and you were worried getting up and walking about would break this sort of invisibility shield you had going on.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t really drunk any water either. You brought your bottle with you but had forgotten to fill it up. It was fine though, the human body could last for 3 days without water - it could wait. Your upcoming exams were far more important.

In Scandinavia, the Elder Futhark remained in use until some time around the eighth century (the time of the Eddas), when drastic changes in the Old Norse language occurred, and corresponding changes in the runic alphabet were made to accommodate the new sounds. However, unlike the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the Younger Futhark (as it is now called) reduced the number of runes from 24 to 16, and several runes came to represent multiple sounds. The forms of the runes were also changed and simplified.

Gods, you couldn't take this anymore. You felt sick and exhausted. You ignore the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, rubbing a hand over your face as you contemplate finishing off and going to bed.

But every time you think of stopping a horrible feeling emerges in your stomach, consuming you with anxiety. The weight of impending exams and the fear of not doing well gnawing at your determination. You glance at the clock, realizing it's well past midnight, and the library is now completely empty except for you.

Madame Pince, finally noticing your presence, approaches with a disapproving look. "You know, the library does close at a certain hour. I can't have students staying here all night," she scolds, but her tone softens as she sees the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Sorry. I lost track of time” You mumble, haphazardly cramming your stuff into your bag. You get up, and the room spins for a second. You stumble but manage to catch yourself, holding onto the table as Madam Pince reaches out a hand to help you recover.

“You need to take care of yourself. No exam is worth this much stress,” She says, eyeing you with concern. If only she knew how far that was from the truth. You felt as though you had so little to your name. Performing well, overachieing. That was what you were known for. It was the only thing you felt was yours. Everyone else had character, they were distinctly themselves. They had hobbies, interests, and friendships that defined them. But for you, it was always about excelling academically. Without that, you became nobody. You were no more than the number on your papers, and the reminder weighed down on you like an unrelenting burden.

By some miracle you manage to stumble down the empty halls of the castle into the Slytherin common room, which seemed paradoxically warm considering its grandiose stone structure and dark, moody lighting. You carelessly drop your bag onto a table closest to the fireplace, trudging up to your room as you battle the sleep that threatens to consume you.

It's dark, and your roommates have long gone to bed.

“Lumos” You murmur, hiding the blinding light that emerges from the tip of your wand with the lining of your school robes, dimming it slightly. You grope blindly at your bedside drawer, stopping when you feel the familiar smooth glass bottle, that fits perfectly in your palm. You slip it into the pocket of your robes, slowly shutting the drawer as you make your way back down to the common room. You dismiss the light that shines from your wand, tossing it onto the sofa as you take a seat on the floor, in front of the low table. You read the instructions on the back of the small bottle as if you hadn’t been consuming this religiously for the past month.

Wideye potion User Guidance:

Take no more than one teaspoon every 6 hours. Effects will last for up to 8 hours. Excessive use of this potion may lead to adverse effects, and in rare cases, severe bodily harm. Users are advised not to use the maximum dosage for a consecutive 72 hours.

You’ve read it so many times, you were sure you could recite it by heart. Choosing not to heed any warnings, you pop open the cork and down the whole bottle in one go. The rancid taste of the potion burns, eliciting a shudder down your spine as you swallow down the bile that threatens to emerge. Pocketing the empty glass bottle, you stretch your arms before retrieving your books, ready to continue working.

If you were lucky, the potion might give you a boost of energy for about 3 hours or so. You had been taking it so much you had developed a sort of immunity to it, and the effects were not as potent as they used to be. The sacrifice of your well-being for the sake of productivity had become a routine, a desperate attempt to squeeze every ounce of time and focus out of your exhausted mind and body.

You have attempted to brew a stronger concoction, in the misplaced hopes that increasing the potency would counteract the effect of the immunity. However, the violent cramps and palpitations it had given you very quickly told you that wouldn't work.

You knew it was bad. It was causing irreversible damage to your body, killing you at worst. It simply wasn't sustainable. But you couldn't drag yourself out of that mindset.

Failure. Nobody.

You gritted your teeth and carried on working.

You managed to get through another potions essay, and the time on your watch read 1:00 am.

You could carry on for longer, right?

You zone out for a second, staring off at the orange embers that emerged from the fireplace, shining bright for what seemed like a millisecond before falling to the floor, turning into nothing but ash.

The orange embers flicker, and for a moment, you see yourself in them – a fleeting brightness that threatens to be extinguished. The battle between ambition and self-preservation rages on as you grit your teeth and carry on working, oblivious to the embers slowly falling into nothingness, much like your own fading sense of self.

“Why on earth are you up at this hour doing work?” A voice calls from behind you, and the momentary intrusion shocks you, sending a burst of energy through you as you spin around.

Flopping down onto the sofa next to you, leaning back with his legs lazily outstretched, was none other than Mattheo Riddle. Clad in a plain grey sweatshirt and black jeans, he eyes you with curiosity, smelling distinctively of smoke. He had most likely been out, as he so usually was at this hour. You shrug, turning back to your work.

“Exams. Need to revise” You mumble, voice cracking. You swallow, massaging your dry throat as you grimace, trying to get back to your writing.

“Revise? Merlin, you're the smartest person in our year. You don't need to be revising” Matthep leans forward, plucking a piece of parchment from your pile and examining it with a raised eyebrow.

You snatch it back, a protective instinct kicking in despite the fatigue. You hated that sentiment. Despised it, even. People always assumed your performance came naturally. That you were simply born with the ability to do well. No one seemed to consider what you had to do to get to that point, how you wore yourself down, day in and day out, till you either passed out from exhaustion or pain, neglecting your most basic needs.

"I might be the 'smartest' person, but that doesn't mean I can afford to slack off," you reply, a hint of frustration in your voice. The adrenaline from the sudden interruption starts to ebb away, leaving you feeling even more drained.

Mattheo leans back, momentarily caught off guard by your defensiveness. He had never seen you this on edge. He was so accustomed to seeing you as this familiar presence during the school day his partner for the many lessons that he didn’t have his friends in. The two of you would work together and on rare occasions, hang out with one another in the common room as well. It was a rather unlikely duo, the king of Slytherin and the academic prodigy. Yet, More often than not Mattheo found himself seeking out your presence. He never admitted it outright, but he hugely admired you. Your intelligence, your drive, it all captivated him. There were times when he hoped he could be only half the person you were.

How funny it was, for you felt the very same thing when you saw him. He seemed content. Happy. He was loved by nearly everyone. Popular, with a fun social life. He had everything you wanted without putting in any of the work.

You wanted to be like him. But you weren’t. And if you wanted anything like what he had, you had to work damn hard for it. So that's what you did. With a small sigh, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” He says gently, his voice softening slightly. "I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes.” He apologies, brows furrowed as he looks at your back facing him.

“It's fine. I should be saying sorry. You didn't say anything, I just…. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You mumble, apologising as you get up. You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you wearily rub your eyes.

“I'm gonna run up to my room and grab some more parchment. I’ll be down in a second,” You say, shrugging off your school robe as you turn to walk away. You ascend the stairs leading to your dorm, tossing your robe onto the sofa next to Mattheo as you do so.

Your robe slides off the sofa and hits the floor, a faint clinking sound echoing through the empty room as you disappear.

Curious, Mattheo looks down at your carelessly discarded robe. He reaches down, picking it up. It weighs heavier than it should be, and Mattheo can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, He eyes the now empty staircase before reaching into your pocket, fingers brushing against a smooth glass vial.

Not just one, but a few.

Frowning, he turns out your pocket, and four identical glass vials tumble into his lap. Picking one up, his frown only deepens as he reads the label.

“Wideye potion?” He mutters to himself, the confusion on his face morphing into something else as the pieces fit in place.

He had admired you for your intelligence and drive, and now he was confronted with the reality of your struggles. The contrast between your achievements and the seemingly carefree moments he sought with you becomes stark. He berates himself for not having noticed early, for having let you fall down such a destructive path.

Jaw clenched, he gazes at the piles of books you had been working through, rolling the empty vials between his fingers as the sound of your approaching footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts.

You pause in confusion, noticing the scrutinising depression plastered on his face as he looks up at you, rolls of parchment bundled in your hands.

"What's the Wideye potion for?" Mattheo questions, his voice cutting through the silence with an uncomfortable heaviness. He holds up the empty vials as evidence, his gaze piercing through the exhaustion in your eyes.

Caught off guard by the confrontation, you glance down at the vials and then meet Mattheo's eyes. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air, the crackling embers of the fireplace filling the empty silence.

“Research. For uh, potions.” You respond, internally berating yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse.

Mattheo's expression remains stern, a mix of frustration and genuine concern etched on his face.

"Don't bullshit me," he says, his tone direct and uncompromising. "I found these in your pocket, and 'potions research' is a shit excuse. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the wideye potion for?"

You shift uncomfortably, feeling small under his scrutinising gaze You clear your throat, speaking.

"It's just to stay awake, you know? To keep going. I only take it in extreme circumstances" you explain, your voice betraying the exhaustion that has settled in.

Mattheos jaw clenches, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side with a sigh, visibly frustrated.

“Extreme? And what would that be, hmm? Because right now I'm looking at four empty bottles, and God knows how many more you’ve thrown away.” He snaps, his expression softening as he looks at you.

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to find the right words. Why on earth were you close to tears? Why did you feel like crying?

“I-” You start, trailing off as you stare at the floor.

Mattheo cuts through the silence, his tone still stern but laced with concern. "This isn't okay. You're smart, and you know better. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens? What if you collapse or get seriously sick? It's not worth it."

After a moment, Mattheo's expression softens, and he exhales deeply. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

Shit.

You pause, hesitating before admitting quietly, "Breakfast...yesterday."

Mattheo's features tighten at your admission, his eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration, anger, and genuine worry. He rises from his seat and strides towards you, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"Yesterday? Are you serious?" he says sharply, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and disbelief.

You remain silent, unable to meet his eyes, feeling the shame and vulnerability washing over you.

“Seriously? Fuck, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?” He chastises you, and you snap.

“I have to! You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't have anything else to fall back on.” You start, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of you.

Mattheo's expression shifts from concern to confusion as you lash out. "What are you talking about? You have plenty more than just academics. You're talented, you're smart, and people care about you. Why are you reducing yourself to just grades?"

You scoff, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Talented? Smart? What does that even mean? It's just a facade, a cover-up for the fact that without these achievements, I'm nothing. I don't have friends; I don't have hobbies or interests. What am I without my grades?"

Mattheo tries to interject, "You're a person with-"

But you cut him off, "No, you don't get it! I'm just a number, a ranking, a test score. Everything I am is tied to how well I perform academically. Do you know what it's like to feel like the only thing you're good at is studying, and even that's slipping away?" You snap anger evident in your tone as you spin around to face him, your weary eyes meeting his.

“It’s the same thing every single day. I wake up, bury myself in books, and push myself to the brink just to feel like I matter. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't talk to anyone. I’ve spent my whole life isolating myself and neglecting my most basic needs for this! If I stop now, then what's left of me?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you hate yourself for showing such vulnerability. Mattheo's stern demeanour softens as he watches you unravel.

"I can't stop, Mattheo. I can't afford to. Because if I do, what's left of me?" Your voice trembles.

Mattheo's heart drops at your words, guilt and hurt clawing at his insides. He can’t fathom the idea of you suffering so much, and him being blind to it. How could you not notice how incredible of a person you are beyond all of this? He’d give anything in the world for you to see yourself through his eyes. For you to feel the way he feels when he's with you, even for a second. To know that he’d do anything you asked him to because he cared for you. Not the one who gets outstanding on all their tests.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mattheo finally speaks, his voice softer, genuine concern written across his face.

You shake your head, a mix of frustration and desperation in your eyes. “Because you wouldn’t understand. No one does. They just see the grades, the perfect student. They don’t see the mess behind it all. And I can’t let them. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Mattheo moves closer, his expression shifting. “You’re wrong. I do understand. Maybe not completely, but I want to. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You scoff, wiping away a tear. “Why? What do you care? You have everything, popularity, friends, a life. I’m just the study partner, the smart one. I can’t burden you with this.”

Mattheo remains silent for a second, before he speaks.

“Every other Sunday, you go down to Hogsmesde and buy a hamper of sweets form Honeydukes. You take it to the children’s school and volunteer there for an hour. Everytime you visit, you make their day.” He starts.

"You're not just grades," he says, his voice gentle. "You have quirks that make you who you are. Like the way you absentmindedly tap your foot when you're deep in thought. Or how you always carry a small notebook, and I bet it's filled with more than just class notes. I've seen you doodle in the margins."

He continues, "You have a wicked sense of humor, even if you don't show it to everyone. I've heard you snort-laugh during our study sessions. And don't even get me started on your taste in music.How you call that dastardly jazz music, i’ll never understand, but you can’t resist humming along to the tunes of the Wizarding Wireless Network when you're studying. Your fondness for Chocolate Frogs and your inexplicable aversion to pumpkin juice.”

Mattheo's eyes light up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls more details. "Remember that time in Charms class when you made your quill dance across the room just to see if you could do it? Or when you brewed a prank potion that turned the water in the Prefects' bathroom blue for a week? You have a mischievous side that not many people get to see." He continues, looking down at you sincerely. He remains silent for a second, eyes scanning over your face before he steps back, sighing.

“I don’t know how to do this emotional, sappy bullshit. I don’t do it. But with you, I do. I want to. Other people want to. That’s what you do.” He says, voice quiet.

You remain rooted to your spot, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude as you stare up at Mattheo. How did he know all that? Why did he know all that?

“You noticed?” You speak up, voice alarmingly quiet.

He looks at you as though you’ve just asked him whether the sky is blue.

“Of course i’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to.” He murmurs, and you know he’s being honest.

Tears prick in your eyes again, and it’s as though all that exhaustion and neglect has come crashing back down on you tenfold after Mattheo had called you out. You try blink them away but alas, you simply couldn’t. Before you can even say anything, Mattheo steps forward, pulling you into his chest as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. He holds you tightly, not even entertaining the thought of letting go as your tears soak his sweatshirt, tentatively accepting his embrace. His heart clenches at every tear that falls from your eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s horrified or accepting of the fact that he’d give up everything to relieve you of your burdens, even if only for a day.

He rubs your back soothingly, and you can’t help but let it all out.

It’s rather cathartic, really, because you've held onto this weight for so long, and now, in Mattheo's arms, it feels like a moment of release.

As your tears eventually subside, you pull back, both embarrassed and utterly shattered. You look down, sniffling as you wipe away your tear stained eyes when Mattheo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

People often said that the eyes were a window to the soul. You never really understood that, but in this moment, you felt as though you were gazing into the very depths of Mattheos being.

With a tenderness that betrays the boundaries of ‘just friends’ , he wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking down at you.

“Come on. Let’s get you up to rest, yeah?” He hums, quietly. You nod, having to tear yourself away from his touch.

He leans down to pack away your stuff, not letting you handle a thing as he throws your stuff over his shoulder.

“You can stay in my room, if you’d like. Theodore’s out for the night so I can take his bed.” Mattheo says.

You consider it for a second. You didn’t particularly fancy heading up to your room with Mattheo, for fear of your roommate awakening to see you in such a state. You nod, speaking.

“Yes please.” You say, voice embarrassingly hoarse from having cried so much. You pray Mattheo didn’t notice.

Of course he did. But, he chose not to draw attention to it, instead resolving to run down to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea.

You follow Mattheo into his room, which you were no stranger to. Having projects together meant endless hours of collaborating, and opting to avoid being pestered by your roommate and her friends (who had a rather amusing infatuation with Mattheo), you worked in his room instead.

“Help yourself to some clothes if you’d like. They’re on the right.” He says, carefully draping your school bag and robe onto one of the desks. You thank him, smiling softly as he cleans the mess he had left.

“Go lie down. I’ll be back in a second” He says, turning away as he exits his room. Swiftly walking down to the kitchen, his head is reeling with thoughts of you.

He chose not to confront the feeling gnawing at him in light of your breakdown. He didn’t want to deal with that just yet. In no less than 10 minutes he’s carefully treading up the stairs to the dorms once more, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and some small crackers in the other.

You hadn’t been eating, nor drinking, and the idea of you neglecting yourself so much sent Mattheo into an uncomfortable state where he found himself riddled with anxiety.

Just friends, right?

He clicks open the door to his room with his elbow, precariously walking over with the tea and crackers in hand as he goes to set them down on his bedside table. His eyes flicker over to you, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he sees you already fast asleep, curled up under the covers. The sight of your slumber brings a warmth to Mattheo's heart. He watches you for a moment, taking in the soft rise and fall of your breath, the delicate features that are usually tense with stress now softened in sleep.

The sight brings him more peace than he wishes to admit, and the looming reality that he had to eventually confront only pressed down on him further.

But for now, he didn’t care.

Because in your peace, he found happiness. And he’s sure he’d never find anything else more beautiful.

Possessed by a wave of sentiment that betrays his usual self, he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a stand of misplaced hair behind your ear. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans down and presses a soft , brief kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and finds himself slightly taken aback by his own actions. The quiet room, filled only with the soft sounds of your sleep, almost seems to amplify the beating of his heart.

Mattheo stands there for a moment, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and confusion. Then, shaking off the unexpected surge of emotions, he retreats to Theodores bed , slipping out of his clothes as he goes to lay down. He had to resist the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of you once again, and lets out a small sigh as he shuts his eyes.

Mattheo Riddle was not a man of sentiment. He was not soft, and he most certainly did not go out of his way for others.

You had changed that. And he couldn’t figure out whether the prospect was one he was ready to welcome.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader comfort

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lesbian-for-arthur-morgan · 10 months

Text

Middle Class Lady Who has the Gang Sneak in Her Window

"The gang falling for a woman of a higher class and a father that doesn't approve of them so they usually sneak through their window to be together" @livingdeadgirly

Genre: Fluff - some angst if you squint (Fem Reader uses she/her pronouns) Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: Mentions of guns, outlaw type of stuff

AN: I'm so sorry these took me forever to write! if some of them seem a little out of character please ignore it and pretend they aren't :D ---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions

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Arthur Morgan:

Your father owned his own saloon which gave him an incredible insight into the type of men who frequented his establishment. He thought of this as a blessing once you started growing older and wishing to be courted, he could keep an ear out for anyone that he deemed unworthy for you.

Unsurprisingly, anyone who frequented the bar was not someone your father wanted anywhere near you. Especially when it came to an outlaw by the name of Arthur Morgan. The two of them had a long-standing feud (actually it was your father who hated Arthur and Arthur was too busy being infatuated with you to notice).

The first time Arthur was seen speaking to you in front of the saloon, your father came barreling through the doors to usher you inside. He instructed you to never speak to him again. Of course you didn’t listen.

Months go by and Arthur has made an extreme effort to get as close to you as he can without your father’s knowledge. The two of you will just so happen to go to the same general store at the same time every Friday by ‘accident’, you just so happen to run into him when you take your horse for a little trail ride to exercise, and every once in a while you both somehow end up behind the theater at on show nights by some strange chance of fate.

After a while, you’re so sick of having to keep your interactions short and sweet and secret in the public eye (lest anyone witness it and run off to tattle to your father). You write a quick letter to Arthur one day asking him to meet you at the side of your house at midnight.

When he gets there and you’re nowhere to be found he’s beyond confused; it’s not until he hears a sharp whistle and looks up to see you waving at him from your second story window that he understands your plan.

“The things I do for you, woman.” He grumbles with a smile and begins hoisting himself up the tree conveniently located right by the window.

You’ve already got the window open as he reaches the top and you begin helping him crawl inside. Now Arthur is a large, bulky man he isn’t exactly as nimble as he might have been once upon a time. You can barely contain your giggles as he lumbers into the room ungracefully and nearly face-plants into the rug on your floor.

“I ain’t had to do this since I was a boy,” He smiles down at you once he steadies himself as you grin up at him widely.

“You’re still young enough to climb through a lady’s window yet, Mr. Morgan.” You tease.

It’s the first time the two of you have ever truly been alone since you met and the tension in the air is palpable. Arthur looks between you and your carefully cleaned and decorated bedroom, then down at his dirty boots on your rug and worn denim pants. He was the complete opposite of you - he didn’t deserve to ruin your space with his grimy life and clothes.

“What you thinking about, Cowboy?” You place a hand on his cheek and turn his head to make him look back at you. He’d confess a few of his doubts, not trusting himself to tell you that he doesn’t deserve you flatout, and you’d shake your head and lead him over to your bed and have him sit down.

You’d kiss him and quiet his thoughts, allowing your actions to say more than words ever could and from that moment on he’d find himself climbing up a tree every other night.

Your father didn’t figure it out ever, even though Arthur and you were hardly ever quiet.

John Marston:

You were the most beautiful person that John had ever seen in his entire life. You were walking in the middle of town with some man nearly twice your age and John figured you were married to him - some lady victim to a man with money and a ring.

John fantasized about swooping you into his arms and saving you from a life of excruciating monotony. He’d tell the old man to kick the bucket, maybe rob him of whatever cash and valuables he had on him, and let you live your life free with him.

When he overheard you refer to the man as your father John felt absolutely giddy. He took his hat off and tried to smooth his hair down as he moved to approach you and introduce himself.

Your father watched the outlaw walk up to the two of you with a skeptical eye. He was hoping the cowboy would walk past you, but he stopped right before you and held out his hand to you. “John Marston, Miss….?” He prompted.

Your father shut it down immediately. He was so incredibly unamused that he stepped between you and John and shoved his arm down. He told John to basically get lost, but John ignored him and kept his eyes on you.

It was like love at first sight.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his and couldn’t hide the growing blush that heated your cheeks as he ever-so-slightly smiled at you. A small smile that disappeared as your father demanded his attention.

“Now son you get out of here before I get angry. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter, you got that?”

John wanted to laugh at his vague threat. Who did this guy think he was? John put both hands up to show he meant no harm and took a few steps back.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, sir,” He shrugged, “Was just being friendly.”

Your father scoffed saying he didn’t want any of John’s kindness and neither would you. You caught John’s eye while your father was speaking and mouthed ‘sorry’ with a sweet smile.

John was smitten immediately. He may seem like a big tough outlaw, but the guy is secretly a huge soft romantic. He was already envisioning your wedding and the type of house you two would build together in the middle of the prairie where no one would bother you and you could leave your respective lives.

He may have been getting ahead of himself.

Your father dragged you away and into the general store, John went off to finish a few more errands. He didn’t think he’d actually ever see you again until the moment he went back to his horse to ride back to camp.

He felt a quick tap on his shoulder and there you were looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

From that moment on the two of you had to meet in secret - away from the watchful eye of your father. John took to sneaking in your bedroom anytime he got the inclination to see you (which was a daily occurrence tbh).

He’d take a stroll around the house to make sure your father’s room lights were off and see if yours were on and you were still awake. Due to his frequent visits, you were always up late waiting for him to call on you.

It was all fun and games until he’s waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to climb back out of your window before your father woke up to find him lounging in your bed. That would be a messy scene.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch thought he was too old to have to worry about meeting parents and getting the approval to see the lady he fancied. He was an old dog; he liked younger women of course but never the type who were of a higher social standing than him and needed that.

Then he met you.

You swooped into his life with your pretty dresses and sweet words and you didn’t want him at all at first. It made him want you even more.

It’s no secret that rich men are corrupt and willing to meet with anyone to make a quick buck. Your father met with Dutch to provide some intel about a train full of valuables and treasures that were interesting to both parties involved. Your dad wanted a cut of what was on that train provided the Van Der Linde gang robbed it.

Your father wasn’t a good man. He enjoyed money a little too much, and saw you as property more than his daughter. He was overprotective of you - to the point that he refused to ever let you out of his sight for even a second.

You went to every meeting between the two men and at first didn’t give a damn about Dutch. You thought he was handsome, but not the type of man you’d ever be interested in. Not until your father warned you to stay away from men like that.

He even went so far as to comment that he didn’t like the way Dutch looked at you. It fueled something inside of you. The idea of rebelling in such a way. Dutch was attractive, he had money, an exciting life, and most of all it would piss your father off if you courted the gang leader.

The next time there was a meeting between the three of you, you bat your eyelashes and laughed at Dutch’s jokes a little too hard.

Dutch bid you farewell by kissing the knuckles on your hand, and you loved the way your father basically had smoke coming out his ears at the action.

Your father didn’t bring you with him the next time he went to a meeting with Dutch. He locked you in your room, and only unlocked the door to check on you before bed that night.

You were pouting and writing a long sob-story in your diary when you heard a soft tap on the glass of your window.

You pulled back your blinds to see Dutch crouching in the dirt by your window with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can I come in, Darlin’?” He cooed with a sweet voice. You opened your window immediately and he ducked through the frame.

“You didn’t come with your father today, he said you didn’t want to attend the meetings anymore.”

You explain that you’ve basically been kept a prisoner in your room all day since your dad was convinced Dutch was trying to steal you away from him. You grumble out a few curse words after you explain and roll your eyes.

“What if I am tryin’ to steal you away?” Dutch whispered, his eyes dark and sparkling in the lamp light. You didn’t realize how pretty he was.

You bite your lip and smile, trying to keep on a tough act at his words. It’s no use, though. He’s charming, it’s why he is who he is.

“Maybe I’d let you,” You reply in a sultry low tone.

That’s all Dutch needed to hear. He helped you pack a small bag of items to bring with you and he brought you back to the camp where the gang was staying.

On your bed, you left a note telling your father you were running off with a man. Shortly after that Dutch mailed out a post saying he didn’t want to do business with your father anymore. It was all settled.

He stole you away to join him at camp, and that’s where you stayed.

Javier Escuella:

You met Javier by chance one night when you were being harassed by a local lawman after a night out at the theater. Javier rushed to the alley when he heard your shouts ordering the man to stay away from you.

Javier saw red and let his instincts take over him. He grabbed the man by the collar of his very nice shirt and used it to throw him to the mud.

“The lady asked you nicely to leave her alone. Now, I won’t be so nice if I have to ask. So, tell me, do I have to be the one to request you leave her alone?”

The man scrambled in the mud, splattering it on his dress pants and coat, as he picked himself up and ran away.

Javier introduced himself and offered to walk you home. You were a little wary of him at first, what with the guns at his belt and the knife at his thigh, but he assured you that he was not a threat. He just didn’t want you risking getting harassed again on your journey to your house.

You took him up on his offer and as he dropped you off at your front door you gave him a quick, shy peck on the cheek and asked if he wouldn’t mind coming to visit again in the future.

Javier is a blushing bumbling mess but somehow finds the words to agree and see you again later on in the week.

From that point on, this man spoils you in every possible way. He brings you flowers, fine pelts, jewelry (don’t ask where he got it), and little poems he writes or likes just so that you have a little piece of his heart.

Does your father care about all of that? No. He just cares about Javier’s status as an outlaw, a killer. He’s heard the rumors about the Van Der Linde Gang and he refuses to allow one of the members anywhere near you.

Javier is willing to do anything to see you, though.

You started leaving your windows perched open during the warm summer nights, and a low whistle alerted you to a person sitting right outside the glass. Your curtains were fluttering slightly with the wind and so all you saw was the shadow of a figure causing your mind to think of the worst scenarios possible.

You drew a knife from your vanity and clasped it in your hand ready to call for your father, but you heard a familiar voice lowly call out.

“Mi amor?”

You let out a sigh of relief and pulled the curtains back fully to see Javier smiling at you with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. “I wanted to see you and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You asked him to wait outside while you barricaded your bedroom door with a stool, then opened the window wider for him to duck inside.

At first he didn’t really know what to do with himself, he planned to give you the flowers and have a quick kiss before needing to leave - he did not expect you to usher him inside.

You took the flowers from his hands and placed them on your dresser next to the box of trinkets and gifts Javier has given you before.

You sit on your bed and make a spot for him to sit beside you. He isn’t really sure what the gentlemanly thing to do is in that situation, but just to be safe he sits on the floor by your feet. He’s gazing up at you as if you were the moon itself and doesn’t even try to hide the way his breathing quickens every time your eyes meet.

It becomes routine for him to visit you nearly every night and wait for you to barricade your door before allowing him in. Eventually he gets more comfortable and feels better about sitting next to you on your bed - though he knows it was not the proper thing to do.

He really wanted to court you the proper way, but with your father being so hesitant to know him outside of his status he had to be a little lenient on conventional courting methods.

Charles Smith:

Charles has been sneaking into your room for years.

You were childhood sweethearts, but your father had hated the relationship from the moment you expressed any sort of soft feelings for the boy.

When he first started sneaking in, it was just because your father didn’t want you to be friends. You and Charles were inseparable, so he’d sneak in when he could to read your books and play with your toys while your father was at work.

As you grew older, your feelings grew too.

You developed a strong crush on Charles and he was completely oblivious to it. At first, since you didn’t know how to express your feelings, you pushed him away and told him to stop visiting you.

Charles was crushed when you essentially told him to get lost. He couldn’t understand what caused your change of heart - he figured maybe your father had finally gotten to you and you realized you were too rich, too pretty to be his friend.

Charles stopped climbing through your bedroom windows and started only seeing you in public spaces or whenever you took your horse out for a ride.

Eventually, though, even those interactions dwindled and Charles stopped seeing you altogether.

It broke you when you didn’t speak with Charles anymore. You thought it better that way. He couldn’t find out your feelings for him - especially since you were certain he didn’t feel the same way.

Years go by, you stop seeing Charles even in fleeting moments. You heard he ran off and was living alone in the wilderness.

It was your fault, you thought. You pushed him away during his time of need and now there was no way of knowing what became of him. Whether he was alive or dead.

You grow older, your heart growing cold and calloused, and you never really recovered from the hurt you put yourself through.

One night, you’re a passenger on a train taking you deeper into the west of America when there was a loud commotion at one end of the passenger car you were in.

You put down your novel and see a group of masked men with weapons demanding valuables from every patron they pass by. They were slowly moving down the aisle, approaching where you were sitting at an alarmingly fast pace. You couldn’t think of a way out of the situation without giving away every last bit of money you had on you.

That is, until one of the masked men gets to you and instead of the harsh demands and pointed threats you expected to hear, you hear your name being whispered softly.

You look up, skin ablaze with fear and eyes watering. Through your tears you can see a familiar set of dark brown eyes peering down at you as if you were a ghost.

“Ch…Charles?” You squint. You questioned if it was just a mirage, a trick of your brain due to fear, but there was no doubting it. Those were Charles’ eyes.

He softly grabbed you by the arm and helped you out of your seat.

“Come with me,” He whispered as he pushed you through the aisle towards the exit. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

It was stupid, but you blindly agreed as he led you out of the train and onto the dusty earth.

Charles and you caught up as the rest of his posse finished robbing the passengers of the train. You learned that he had been taken in by the Van Der Linde gang and was making a living as an outlaw. After seeing what you did on the train, that part of his story checked out.

You caught up with him as well, you informed him of your father’s fate and how his will left everything to you. How you regretted pushing him away as a teenager and how you wished he could forgive you.

“I never even hated you for it,” He said softly, “There is nothing to forgive, it’s how the world is sometimes. Cruel.”

You tried to explain your feelings at the time, but the embarrassment of it never let you fully explain.

Charles offered to take you home, but you wanted nothing more than to continue catching up with him and learning about his new life, his new family. Charles took you back to camp, and you ended up staying there with him for a few weeks. (For a fee of course, as Dutch had so cleverly thought up)

Your feelings for Charles rose to the surface once again, and you weren’t sure when or if there would ever be a time to explain how madly in love with him you were.

Sean MacGuire:

The first time y’all met was when he was sneaking through your window late one night.

Dutch had given Sean a vague plan about robbing a local lawmaker’s house while the man was scheduled to be two towns over for some political business. Dutch figured it would be a quiet, simple mission to grab some extra loot and not worry about being caught.

Sean paced around your house a few times after midnight the day your father left, and when he didn’t see any lights on or movements he figured it was safe to go in.

He checked a few key points of entry, but the windows on the ground-floor were locked and he didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence of there being a break-in for when the lawmaker came back.

Sean noticed that a window on the second floor was open the tiniest sliver, he’d be able to use a dagger to wedge it open wide enough to slip his hand in and open it fully.

He climbed up some vines growing on the side of the wood paneling and pulled his dagger to wedge it open. Once he got himself inside, he turned towards the window to close it.

His entire body stiffened when he heard the metallic click of a pistol being cocked from behind him.

“Now I’ll only say this one time, Mister, you need to get outta here before I blow a hole in you and make a mess all over these clean floors.” The threat was serious, Sean knew that, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sweet sound of your voice as you told him you were going to shoot him if he didn’t leave.

He put his hands up, dropping the dagger he had, and turned to face you slowly. The house was dark. Shadows danced across your face and shielded your eyes making you look lethal with the gun pointed at his chest. Sean thought you were beautiful.

“I mean no harm, Miss. Just business ‘s all,” Sean gave you a toothy smile which only made you narrow your eyes.

You told him you were going to give him one chance to leave and he’d only stay if he had a death wish.

Sean wanted nothing more than to stay with you and use whatever methods he could to woo you, but he was familiar with the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice. He was scheduled to meet the gods above if he didn’t slip back out that window and into the night.

After he left, he was already planning the ways he could meet you again - under more favorable circumstances of course. He decided to visit you the next day with a peace offering and a smile.

Once dawn broke over the horizon, painting the world in a golden orange light, Sean was already up and out of camp heading to your large house on the hill.

He knocked on the door and you answered after a few minutes. Your hair was messy from sleep and your nightgown was covered by a long robe that was hastily thrown on to save your modesty.

“What the hell?” You grumbled and looked at Sean as if he had grown three heads. “Either you are the stupidest man on the planet for comin’ back here, or you truly do have a death wish. If it’s the latter give me a second to grab the gun.”

Sean was in love immediately.

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I never woulda thought ‘bout stealing from a man with such a pretty woman living under his roof.” He handed you a small box saying that it was a piece offering. Inside was a large silver coin and a note that said ‘thanks for not shooting me’.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, but pocketed the coin and note nonetheless. You invited him in, but warned him any funny business would not end favorably for him. He only shot you a coy smile and promised that he was only coming as a gentleman, not an outlaw.

The two of you grew as friends at first but once things seemed to grow more romantic, you had to start sneaking around and avoiding your father finding out about the relationship and how it started.

Sean was glad he got the practice sneaking in your window that first night, though, because it was common practice while the two of you had to keep your romantic relations a secret.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie was a shell of herself when you met her.

She was still mourning the loss of her husband and trying to become accustomed to her new life as a member of the Van Der Linde Gang when you stumbled into her one day.

She was just starting to get back on her feet and was at the tailors in town when you strolled in with your fancy clothes and styled hair.

She wasn’t intimidated per say, but she felt a little inadequate in comparison. What with her ragged hand-me-downs from Miss Grimshaw and her few coins that she saved to buy a new linen shirt - you were like royalty compared to her.

You approached her first at the tailors. You asked if she had been in town long as you didn’t recognize her, where she came from, where her husband was (assuming she was married). Sadie didn’t know how to answer all the questions you threw in her direction.

You broke down her walls, though. You bought the shirt that she wanted and even invited her to tea with you at your house to talk about what had been plaguing her the last few weeks.

She didn’t want it to help, but Sadie could physically feel the relief flood her chest as she stopped holding on to her emotions and let them flow freely. A friendship between the two of you grew quickly and rapidly.

Then, it grew to be a little more.

Sadie had been working on jobs with Arthur and gaining her confidence back. In doing so, she finally got the nerve to kiss you goodbye one night when she was getting ready to go back to camp.

She gazed at you nervously after she did it. She couldn’t figure out what your expression meant - whether she went too far, or if you even liked her back in that way.

Tears slipped from your eyes as you looked up at her and grabbed her cheeks, shoving your lips against hers. Her kiss was sweet and gentle, but yours was aggressive and needy. You didn’t realize she felt the same way about you, and knowing that she did created a swell in your heart that never went away.

After your first kiss, you had to keep your relationship on the downlow. Your father knew that the two of you were friends (he hardly liked even that), if he found out that y’all were girlfriends he would separate you for good.

Sadie came up with the plan to visit you during the day as a good honest lady of society, but at night she would climb up through your window to enjoy spending time with you as a partner instead.

Friend by day, girlfriend by night.

Sadie slipped through your window every other night, quieter than a shadow when she came in. Sometimes you’d turn around and she would just be getting in and it would make you squeak a little as it startled you.

She kissed you to keep you quiet when that happened, though (teehee)

Sadie would spend hours with you at night. You’d help her brush her hair when there were missions she was on that took days and she wasn’t able to care for her locks. You’d let her borrow your nightgowns if she ever wanted to stay and relax in your bed until dawn.

The two of you would hold each other and talk until the mourning doves sang their melancholy songs in the early hours of the morning.

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gurugirl · 3 months

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ex-boyfriend's dad!harry | teaser

This has been in the works for a good while now babes! I just posted part 1 on Patreon but this will be coming here for tumblr at a later later date (no idea when but don't expect it too soon). Just wanted to share with y'all what's happening and to give you an update since some of you asked when it was coming.

Enjoy this 2.749 word teaser below!

xoxo