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littlerequiem · 1 month

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

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

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

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

Crossposted on AO3.

The mountain is a lonely, cruelly cold place.

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

Getting lost here would be ill-advised.

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

Captain Levi Ackerman.

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

Your chuckle beneath your breath.

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

Hence, you are doing everything by foot.

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meddlers, they all are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a click, the door swings open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shiver licks your spine. “S-sir?”

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

Your stomach stupidly flips at Levi’s orders.

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

You chuckle nervously while your brain goes into overdrive.

... Shit.

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

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

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

You wince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have something dry to change into?"

You nod.

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

You do just that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“It's tea."

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

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

A log splinters.

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

You turn towards him.

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

A confused look draws on your face.

What now?

“Fucking come here already,” your Captain orders.

And he gestures with two fingers in his direction.

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

He wants to warm you up.

You gape at him.

This isn't happening. Is it?

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

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

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

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

(You always did love Levi's scent.)

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

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

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

The added friction renders you speechless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quit squirming and stay put,” he mutters.

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

“I wasn't going to die."

"But what if you did?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like lovers.

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what do you think?” he asks.

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

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

That takes you right out of it.

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

“... Sorry?”

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

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

An odor you know well enough.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

A hot spring.

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

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

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

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

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

You hum. “True enough.”

“It smells vile.”

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

“Sounds dubious.”

“I promise, it’s true!”

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

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

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

You snort.

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

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

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

He takes a step back.

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

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

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

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

That night, you can't fall asleep.

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

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

It’s… something else.

Something that's lead your thoughts astray.

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

You think—

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

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

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

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

No.

You need to find somewhere private.

Somewhere like…

Oh.

The hot springs.

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

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

Serene. Lovely. Inviting.

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

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

Yes, this will have to do.

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

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

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

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

And the hot springs.

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

Shedding your clothes, you quickly step in.

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

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

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

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

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

Light.

Movement.

Noise.

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

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

It's him.

Captain Levi.

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

The man who you were just fantasizing about.

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

Oh.

Oh no.

This is bad.

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

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

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

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

Already, warning bells ring in your brain.

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

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

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

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

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

You need to leave. Now.

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

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

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

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

Panic sets in.

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

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

Shit.

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

You pump every ounce of strength in your frantic escape.

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

“Oi!”

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

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

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

A choked sound escapes you.

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

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

You land with a splash.

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

You want to scream.

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

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

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

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

But you also have to say something.

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

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

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

“And why aren’t you asleep?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

Walls. You’re treading dangerous territories.

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

"Get to the point."

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

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

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

“Then don’t concern yourself.”

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

You need to turn the tide, somehow.

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

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

Levi's expression doesn't falter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His attention makes your breath stop.

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

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

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

Then, Levi surprises you.

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

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

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

If it’s like the rest of him…

Stop.

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

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

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

Is he... is he testing you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper, “I do.”

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

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

It's true.

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

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

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

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

His eyes do not blink. “Anything.”

“Anything.”

Levi swallows heavily, taking a step back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Levi’s goes still.

And you push through.

“I lied, Captain Levi,” you tell him.

His brows knit together.

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

“Relief.”

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

“You mean masturbation.”

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

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

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

Everything goes still after that.

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

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

“I realize, sir,” you say.

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

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

“Yes, Captain Levi.”

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

... What?

Your eyes flit up.

Did you hear him correctly?

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

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

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

"S-sir?” you stutter.

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

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

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

“Where?”

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

Levi’s eyes flicker to your lips.

Oh, fuck.

"Show me."

Your eyes widen. "S-show you?"

"That's what I just said."

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

You do as he asks and you kiss him.

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

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

And reality crashes on you.

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

Holy shit.

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

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

It only makes you want him more.

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

Levi breaks apart briefly. “Tell me.”

You take his hand and guide it to your chest.

“T-touch me here. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Quit squirming," he mutters.

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

“Mm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips quirk into a playful smile.

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you ask.

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

"But, you said—“

“—that's an order.”

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

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

And the whole situation hits you like bricks.

Holy shit.

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

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

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

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

You raise a questioning brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not. But I overthink.”

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

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

“Okay,” you find yourself whispering back.

“Okay, what?”

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

And you have just the thing to give him.

“Please help me not to think, Captain.”

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

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

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

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

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

It makes you squirm in place. “Captain…”

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

"Say what?"

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

"Anything?"

He nods.

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

Levi scoffs. "Titan formations."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

The sight makes you want to scream.

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

A shiver runs down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shoot up to grab a fistful of his hair.

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

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

That wicked little man.

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

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

In response, Levi doubles down on his efforts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're left cold. Aching.

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

What the hell is he doing?

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

“Patience,” he grits out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More—you need more.

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

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

Your heart drums quicker than a horse’s canter.

“… shit, shit, shit,” you choke.

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

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

Right.

There.

The coil splits and your climax flares.

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

Holy hell.

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

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

“Oh, f-fuck,” you stutter out.

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

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

Your head lulls sideways to admire him.

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

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

The sight of it makes it impossible to think.

“Captain Levi,” you say with some urgency.

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna need you inside me. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Said Captain has yet to say no.”

“And why would I refuse you?”

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

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

“Sir…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I learned from the best, sir.”

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

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

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

He leans close, mouth hovering close to yours.

“I've watched you too,” he confesses.

And then, Levi slams into you.

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

The way of a man trying to ruin you.

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

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

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

His words cause something delicious to swirl within you.

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

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

“Levi,” you plead.

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

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

More.

“Captain, please, please—.”

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

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

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

"Color?" he asks, voice shaking.

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

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

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

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

A state of euphoria.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-fuck,” Levi hisses.

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

“Captain, I—”

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

Your orgasm splinters into the night.

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

And your brain? Your brain is numb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes circle around to meet his cloudy stare.

You raise a brow. "Did what work?"

"Did you stop thinking?"

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

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

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

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

Levi shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I’m not stupid, Levi,” you add.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never said that,” you dismiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You go still.

Next time?

Is that a promise?

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

Oh, it is a promise.

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

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

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

“But—”

“That’s an order, soldier.”

You sigh.

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

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

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

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

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astrum-medeis · 1 year

Text

Rising signs by appearance 💙

Based on my experience.

Take what resonates leave what doesn’t.

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Aries/Mars-asc/Mars in 1st 🐏

Masculine. Childlike faces. Sharp facial features. Foxy eyes. Arched eyebrows. Low centered face. High forehead. Facial scars. Blushes easily. Average or short height. Resting bitch face. May not look too approaching.

Taurus/Venus-asc/Venus in 1st 🐮

Feminine. Nice neck and collarbones. Broad shoulders. Natural, raw beauty. Doe eyes. Long eyelashes. Flawless skin. Sturdy appearance. They appear tough even if they are tiny. Average height. Down-to-earth vibe.

Gemini/Mercury-asc/Mercury in 1st 👯‍♂️

Masculine. Youthful appearance. Flawless complexion. American doll teeth. Mischevious spark in their eyes. Average or tall height. Well groomed hands and nails. Using eyebrows and hands a lot when talking.

Cancer/Moon-asc/Moon in 1st 🌝

Feminine. Soft and kind look. Looks younger than actually is. Big and round eyes. Roundish face. Light and cool shade of skin. Plump lips. Fine or thin hair. Curvy. Prominent chest. Might have weak teeth. Short or average height.

Leo/Sun-asc/Sun in 1st 🦁

Masculine. Bright and shiny vibe. Something very noticable about hair (volume, thickness, texture, cut, colour). Wide forehead. Warm skin shade. Feisty spark in their eyes. Attractive smile. Confident posture. Short or average height.

Virgo/Mercury-asc/Mercury in 1st 🧚

Feminine. Ethereal look. Elves. Youthful appearance. Natural beauty. Sharp and angular features. Small eyes. Cleft chin. Tall height. Slender.

Libra/Venus-asc/Venus in 1st ⚖️

Masculine. Angellic and pure vibe. Flawless complexion. Dimples. Well defined cupid bow. Heart or oval shaped face. Quite symmetrical face. Nice butt. Charming.

Scorpio/Pluto-asc/Pluto in 1st 🦂

Feminine. Magnetic vibe. Piercing gaze. Resting bitch face. They appear dark and heavy even if they are blue eyed blonde person. Sharp features. Prominent cheekbones. Heart or oval shaped face. Deepset or downturned eyes. Average height. Overpowering energy.

Sagittarius/Jupiter-asc/Jupiter in 1st 🐎

Masculine. Youthful appearance. Light energy. Wide and beautiful smile. Happy gaze. Long nose. Longish and oval face. Thick or curly hair. Thick thighs. Long legs. Average or tall height. Slim.

Capricorn/Saturn-asc/Saturn in 1st 🐑

Masculine. Either good or bad bone structure (including teeth). High cheekbones. Fine hair. Dry skin. They look older than they actually are. They may have some tattoos. Average or tall height. Slim.

Aquarius/Uranus-asc/Uranus in 1st 🦄

Masculine. Eccentric vibe. There is something unique about their appearance. They like to stand out. Nice calves and ankles. Probably has dyed hair, tattoos, piercings or just dresses in an unusual style. Average lips. Alien like face. Short or average height.

Pisces/Neptune-asc/Neptune in 1st 🐠

Feminine. Angellic and kind vibe. Moist look. Well groomed feet. Big, beautiful and dreamy eyes. Long and thick eyelashes. Plump lips. Soft skin. Flawless complexion. Can be chubby. Short or average height.

Have a nice day!

#astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astro community #astroblr #astroworld #astro posts #astro placements

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levshany · 5 months

Text

how do I put this. Even those who actually track our blogs and are interested in our Aus can get a little confused about what's going on here. but I'll try to explain anyway

we already mentioned the crossover between Anarchists and Tandem and even DRAWED them once, back when Tandem was in development (and by the way, this crossover is canonical for both AUs). Now this story has been continued >:D

Here's some context: It so happened that the Colibri wanted to see what alternative timelines looked like and ran into the king and the jester. Phil was delighted with Colibri and wanted to flirt with them. Jester Collie was categorically against it. so he immediately possessed Phill and tried to fight Tandem. he didn’t succeed because his fusion with Phil is extremely unstable. and here we are

Initially, @angstyhikka and I just drew these three pages, but then @lasymit supported the idea and made a drabble which she allowed me to add to the post :3

------------------------------------

"Let go, bitch! I'm not done with you yet!"

The savage creature desperately squirmed in Philip’s hands. It grabbed onto him, trying to either break free or, on the contrary, rush closer, glaring furiously and baring its shark teeth.

He held the clumsy, collapsing fusion at arm's length and looked at it with slight disgust. His tandem with the Collector was a strange but harmonious union. And what was writhing in front of them right now was the direct antipode of the word harmony.

“Well, I am,” he said distantly.

And with his other hand he grabbed the one sitting inside the demon’s body. Under the flesh soaked in titan blood, he felt a soft essence, like rubber or hot wax. The Collector from this universe felt completely different to the touch.

He stretched them, pulling them away from each other, disentangling them from each other. Paradoxically, bodies that should repel each other by the nature of their forces, like unipolar magnets, clung to each other very stubbornly. But Philip was still stronger with the power of the Collector in his hands, power which he clearly used better than the local... king of demons...

“Ouuuuch ouuuuch,” a boy in the robes of a jester, painted in red and black, shrank on the ground, wrapping his arms around his own chest.

He was not at all like his Collector. Philip had never seen his friend's material body before. But he knew he looked different. For some reason he knew this for sure.

"Who pulls a guy out like that!? Fuck!!", the now-green demon yelled nearby. And he clutched his head painfully.

What Idiots. They vomited three times while chasing him. Philip did them a favor by stopping this outrage.

Now these two were lying helplessly at his feet, groaning and gasping, trying to catch their breath and come to their senses. Now they are separated.

"What were you trying to achieve?" His question was almost rhetorical.

"It wasn’t me, it was all him!" like a child, pointing a sharp, protruding finger towards the Collector, the demon yelled. "I didn’t want to fight at all!"—here he gazed up at Philip with some strange look and batted his eyelashes expressively—"I wanted something else– something more interesting."

"Ohh fuck off, Maggie! You traitor!" came the shout from the red Collector. Philip silently decided to call him the Jester and the demon, by analogy, the King. Philip had already guessed his name. But he couldn’t bring himself to call this savage by that name. Not even in his mind.

He ignored the King's vague attempts to take a tempting pose while still lying on the ground and grinding his teeth from the headache. He turned to the Jester.

"So you're in charge?"

Judging by King's behavior, it would indeed be reckless to put him in charge. But, having always been the decision-maker when paired with the Collector, by right of being the adult, Philip is accustomed to his friend almost never taking the leading role unless circumstances require it. Like a couple of years ago...

“Nuh-uh,” the Jester raised himself up on his elbow and rubbed his chest, inhaling deeply, greedily. "We're bros! Equal rights and stuff."

And he twirled his funny yellow gloved hand in the air.

Something in the Jester’s words pricked Philip. He didn't fully understand what exactly.. Until the King said, in a dramatic whisper:

"I no longer have a brother. You’re dead to me!"

And Philip stood there, trying to remember that the air was not hard, dense lumps, that it did not clog in the throat and did not press in the chest with a dull phantom pain. Meanwhile these two idiots, after a couple moments of aggressive looks, laughed out loud.

“Yes, I would strangle such a brother,” the King squeezed out, wheezing and squinting through laughter, “with my own-"

And he bent over, swallowing the end of the sentence with a cough as the toe of a boot hit him in the stomach.

"Philip! Philip... They've had enough... He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Philip's cheek twitched.

"Ouch... bro, save me!" the King squeaked hoarsely.

And this completely infuriated Philip. He swung his foot again, this time at the face. But he was met by an elastic wall. And the ground under Colibri’s feet, along with all the space, suddenly curved.

If it weren't for years with the Collector in his head, he wouldn't have realized what happened. But now he clearly saw how a couple of dimensions were distorted, folding space into a loop. He suddenly found himself not between the King and the Jester, but at a considerable distance. And these two were already close together. The boy helped his “brother” get up from the ground; King was now leaning on Jester’s shoulders, clutching his stomach. Perhaps Philip miscalculated his strength a little. This happens sometimes... Especially when it comes to emotions.

“Hey! Hitting people who are down is against the rules,” the Jester frowned. "Give us a timeout!"

Philip felt his jaw tighten. How the nodules rolled across his face. But the flaring rage, as it often happened to him, went away as easily as it filled the air in his chest, leaving reddish streaks before his eyes and pulsating power in his fingertips.

“Get out of the way,” he let his hands glow slightly.

"Ohhhh, what about a last kiss, star boy?" the King whined, clinging to the Jester and trying to straighten up next to him, as if hoping to reach Philip from a distance of ten steps and still get the coveted—

A kiss? Seriously, what the hell? Philip directed a confused, irritated look that bore all these unspoken questions at the Jester. He awkwardly shrugged his sharp shoulders, caught in the King’s grip.

"Don’t be mad... Philip, right? Don't be mad at him, Philip. His Majesty has a reason to be an idiot. And he didn’t mean it out of malice about the ‘brother’ thing.”

Philip looked at the Jester more carefully. The collector in his head was silent. But Philip sensed something from him. Philip also noticed the King’s uncomprehending expression.

“What’s wrong with ‘brother’?” The King sounded surprised.

And then Philip understood. And his face froze.

Yes... yes, what need is there to remember such things? He himself tried to forget for a long time... If he succeeded, would he be the same now as the king in front of him?

Looking at this wretched shell of a “King” who’d forgotten everything important about himself and the loyal “Jester” still standing steadily at his side, the Collector in Philip’s head began to sob. They both, it seems, had the same thought. It’s scary to look at the reflection of a future that never happened.

The jester smiled at him guiltily- at both of them. And then he confidently and widely showed about fifty teeth to his King.

"People don’t like such familiarity, you fool! You can’t just kiss someone the first time you meet."

"But it's okay to fight them when you first meet?" Philip was indignant...

Yes, it's Philip. He cannot refuse to call this man by his own name. Philip himself could one day become such a “king.”

------------------------------------

also @kenku97 helped us with translation and added this comment, I gotta show it to you ;v;

"I thought “The collector in his head sobbed” needed more context for people who aren’t as tightly wrapped up in these AUs as we all are. To understand why Collie’s crying, you need to point out how Tandem Collie sees himself in the Jester. They’re both caring for a Philip who is forgetting himself and the people closest to him. Jester is living out Tandem Collie’s worst fear: what will happen when Philip can’t remember anything anymore? What will become of their friendship? And it’s bittersweet because the King and the Jester are still friends, even though the Jester basically had to start over from the beginning. Jester Collie is quietly carrying all of those memories inside his heart of a friend who has basically disappeared while still learning about and loving the brand new person his friend has become. It’s so sweet and so sad.😭"

that's pretty much all for now It’s hard to return to drawing after the holidays. and this is not even a new art you see, but last year’s. therefore this comic cannot be considered the first work of this year sadly

#Hikka said anarchist fusion looks like Jasper from SU and now I'm thinking about that one ep where Alexandrite and Malachite were fighting #“you to should spent some time apart” ehehehehehee #I love this possession thing #this concept is so fun to play with #tandem au #toh tandem au #anarchist au #toh anarchist au #the king and the jester #phill the demon king #collie the jester #phillip wittebane #toh phillip #toh collector #toh colibri #toh tandem #my art #my comic

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queenshelby · 7 months

Text

Daddy Issues (Part Five)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

As you were bustling around behind the bar, juggling drink orders with a forced smile, you noticed a familiar face through the crowd and, immediately, your heart skipped a beat.

"Shit!" you cursed internally, quickly regaining composure and turning towards the approaching figure.

Cillian, dressed impeccably in casual attire, sauntered towards you with a charming confidence that made him irresistible to most women. His perfectly chiselled features gleamed seductively under the dim lights, accentuating his naturally rugged good looks. Even as he approached, you could sense an underlying energy emanating from him that sent waves of nervous anticipation coursing through your veins.

With his tousled hair and piercing blue eyes, he was a sight that could turn any head in the room and this, clearly, included your employer Michelle who eagerly jumped in front of you to serve him.

Michelle was shamelessly batting her eyelashes in his direction, and for some reason, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

"Oh, for God's sake," you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes at Michelle's transparent attempts to catch Cillian's attention, but he ignored her.

Noticing your displeasure, she raised an eyebrow at you questioningly. Ignoring her, you focused on serving other customers.

Cillian stepped closer, his magnetism impossible to ignore. "Can I get a drink?" he enquired politely, looking directly at you without missing a beat. There was a challenge written plainly in those piercing blue eyes of his. Feeling cornered, you hesitated slightly, uncertain whether to decline his request or oblige.

Why was he here, you wondered. Did he come specifically to find you? Or perhaps, fate had simply brought you together once more. Either way, despite your determination to remain distant, the fact that he sought you out left you flustered beyond belief. Taking a deep breath, you managed to gather your composure and, with an inner sigh, answered, "Of course! What would you like?"

As you poured his drink, you couldn't help but notice the subtle twitch of arousal running through his body.

The atmosphere thickened with pent-up lust, a heavy presence filling the empty spaces between you. And as you reached out with trembling hands to place the drink in front of him, your fingertips brushed against his, sending sparks shooting through you both. This connection was undeniable, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both.

"So, tell me, Cill, how are you? Are you here with friends?" you asked casually, deliberately attempting to maintain some distance. Though your body language betrayed you, communicating a fierce yearning for physical intimacy, your voice remained steady and collected.

"No. I am here on my own, to see you actually," he replied easily, effortlessly sliding onto a chair across from the bar. Despite your best efforts to appear indifferent, you couldn't help but glance furtively at his handsome physique, his shoulders tapering elegantly into his waist. You took a deep breath, desperately reminding yourself not to fall prey to his mesmerizing charm.

"If this about me paying you back, I am working on it," you asserted confidently, attempting to mask your turmoil. However, Cillian's gaze never faltered from yours, and his smile held a hint of playful teasing.

"It is actually. Emma told me that you have taken extra shifts just to come up with the money. She said that you are struggling with your studies because of it, and I just wanted to make sure that you know that I do not need you to pay me back. In fact, I won't even accept the money," he murmured softly, placing his glass down gently.

There was a slight pause in the conversation as both of you processed these revelations. Your defenses weakening slightly, a small blush crept across your cheeks, causing his expression to soften slightly in response.

"I appreciate it Cillian, but I need to pay you back. It's the right thing to do. Despite, you know you could have called about this, you did not have to come here, right?" you queried tentatively, fighting hard to resist the mounting temptation to give in to his alluring appeal. You knew the risks involved yet still found yourself drawn to him, like moth to flame.

"I could have, yes," he retorted, flashing a crooked grin that set your pulse racing wildly. "But, I wanted to see you Y/N." His tone was unmistakably suggestive, conveying an unspoken promise that echoed between the two of you just as Michelle swooped in again and reminded you that you had other customers.

For a brief second, his gaze diverted to hers with an annoyed look. However, he swiftly refocused his intentions solely on you, seemingly dismissing her entirely.

"I will finish up in an hour. We will talk then, okay?" you said to Cillian who agreed with a silent nod before, throughout the evening, you served countless patrons, growing more frustrated with every passing minute. The persistent sexual undertone only heightened your desire for release.

Eventually though, your shift came to an end. Exhausted but relieved, you went straight to the restroom to change out of your uniform. Upon returning, you saw Cillian waiting patiently, sipping his beer.

Without further ado, you walked toward him and extended your hand. He looked surprised for a split second before grasping it firmly, drawing you close enough to smell the unique fragrance of his cologne. Glancing deeply into his striking blue eyes, you felt your resolve crumble away as the heat within them engulfed you wholeheartedly.

"Come with me. Lets talk somewhere more privately," you suggested impulsively, allowing yourself to finally succumb to the powerful pull of attraction. He gave you a mischievous smile, appreciative of your audacity and followed closely behind as you led him out the side entrance of the bar.

Once outside, you stumbled upon a deserted alleyway, lit sparsely by intermittent streetlights casting eerie shadows along its walls. It provided just the right amount of seclusion needed for your little talk which, much to your surprise, Cillian jumped into right away.

"You never called me," he began abruptly, bringing your thoughts back to reality. Your mouth fell open briefly before you managed to compose yourself.

"It didn't feel proper considering that I owe you money. It would have made me feel like I am repaying you with sex," you admitted honestly, causing Cillian to cock an eyerbrow.

Cillian then chuckled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Payment in sexual favors, huh? I never even thought about that," he joked and you quickly shook your head.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you couldn't help but stammer, "I-I didn't mean to suggest that this is what you were after. I am sorry. It would just...I mean that's how I would have felt about it I suppose."

Cillian laughed, genuine amusement lighting up his face. "Relax, Y/N," I was just joking but, for what it is worth, I don't expect sex just because I paid for your car. This is not how I roll."

Letting out a relieved sigh, you nodded. "I know that. I am sorry," you murmured before making an admission. "It's just, you have a bit of reputation when it comes to women and I... I don't know..." you stammered before Cillian interrupted you.

Cillian arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "A reputation, huh? Well, shouldn't that be a bit more intriguing then?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush that crept onto your cheeks. "Perhaps, Cillian, but honestly, why me? You could literally hook up with anyone you want, like models and the like."

Cillian let out a genuine laugh, shaking his head. "Models? I haven't met many of them, but the ones I have met were either full of themselves or couldn't hold a conversation. What's the fun in that?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mix of surprise and flattery washing over you. "You think I'm smart and attractive?"

Cillian leaned closer, his eyes locked with yours. "More than that. The fact that you're shy, innocent, and absolutely unaware of how incredibly sexy you are... it's a huge turn on for me and I realised that when you did not call," Cillian admitted and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling a warmth spreading through your body.

"But I get it. If this goes against your moral compass or if you would rather hang out with someone your own age, then that is totally understandable. No pressure. Honestly," he then went on to say and you were torn between your desires and your reservations.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. "Well, I don't want a relationship, but I also don't want to be second or third choice for you. Nor do I want to be just an occasional hook-up. You are rumored to sleep around a lot and it worries me," you told him honestly.

Cillian's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "These are just rumors Y/N, and you won't be second or third choice."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Which means what? That you just come to London occasionally, sleep with me, but then sleep with nobody else? Is that even enough for you?"

Cillian smirked, his voice low and filled with promise. "It would be if you're... how do I put this... if you're into what I'm into. If you allow me to take care of you, and I don't just mean financially."

Your lips curled into a mischievous smile. "So you do want to be my sugar daddy?"

Cillian laughed, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I prefer not to put a label on it. I honestly just want to have some fun with someone I can trust. And, by doing so, money shouldn't be something you need to worry about. You could take fewer shifts, spend more nights with me."

You playfully nudged him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Right... Well, that sounds a lot like what Jamie and Emma have going on."

Cillian shrugged, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Maybe, yes. But what does it matter?"

You couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and uncertainty bubbling inside you. "I suppose it doesn't."

Taking a deep breath, you met Cillian's gaze head-on. "So, if I was to agree to this, would that mean that I get to call you daddy? In bed, I mean. Like, you know... in an intimate kind of way?"

Cillian laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart skip a beat. "Sure, if you want to."

A mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you continued, teasingly. "And you would come to London, right? Meet me at your hotel room and make me do things? You would take charge, right?"

Cillian's gaze smoldered with desire, his voice dripping with promise. "If you want me to, then yes."

A playful smirk danced on your lips. "Well, maybe I do. And maybe we could go to your hotel room now and you can give me a little taste of what it would be like if you were in charge."

Cillian raised an eyebrow, a smoldering look in his eyes. "This is an intriguing proposition. But remember, there's no pressure. If this isn't for you, then-"

You interrupted him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Then this won't work. I know. But maybe it is for me. Maybe I am yet to surprise you."

You turned towards him, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. His eyes burned with hunger, mirroring yours almost exactly.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, a hint of hesitation clouding his once confident demeanor.

You nodded without wavering, feeling the thrill course through your veins. You wanted this – you knew you did.

Tags:

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #tommy shelby #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction

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autisticlancemcclain · 9 months

Text

part one

———

They’re not careless.

But they’re not careful, either.

They’ve never bothered discussing whether or not they’re trying to be discreet. It was always just the natural way they went about things. Their friends already have so much to worry about, so much to reckon with. It’s a waste of their limited time to sit them down and announce to them that they’re — what, sleeping together?

This is what Keith tells himself.

He sees the hurt in Lance’s eyes, when he flinches away from his touch. He knows it’s worse still because he is an instigator, because he is so fucking incapable of keeping his hands to himself. His palm will find the small of Lance’s back like a magnet to steel, his shoulder will soften itself so Lance can rest his head. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, half the time, doesn’t notice the way he seeks out Lance’s hand or crowds too close to him until he catches someone’s eye, watching them, and springs apart, flings Lance’s away from him like he’s been burned.

I love you.

Isn’t that reason enough?

In the morning Keith wakes up sweltering. In the back of his mind, as it always does, burns the skin-crawling feeling of being watched. There’s no one in the bedroom and he knows it, but shame runs down his spine anyway. Suddenly the blankets twisting his and Lance’s legs together are binding, and the press of their sweat-slick skin tigger is revolting, sticky. The nausea that churns lowly in his belly at all times bubbles infinitely more aggressively than usual, and Keith knows if he doesn’t extract himself immediately he’ll explode; chunks of him will hit the walls and his blood will paint the tile floor. He inches under his skin, bile coats the back of his throat, heart pounding so fast it’s a him.

A low, quiet quiet groaning noise startled the hell out of him. He looks over and Lance is shifting, sliding his arms out from under the pillow and turning slightly, so he’s facing Keith instead of the wall, hands curled into his chest and under his chin.

There’s a pillow crease steamed across his cheek, and his face is smushed by the pillow, forcing his lips to pucker.

Keith smiles.

The roaring in his head quiets somewhat. Without thinking he reaches out his hand, fingertips tracing the creased skin of Lance’s cheek so lightly he hardly touches with anything more than his callouses. His skin is warm to the touch, but not overly so.

Keith lets out a long, hard breath. His heart rate slows. He traces the pucker of Lance’s lip, feeling the curve of his cupid’s bow, noting the tiny scars from where Lance picks the skin when he’s bored or nervous.

Slowly, as if a string is pulling them together, Keith leans down. Somewhere between his pillow and Lance’s his eyes close, and the press of their lips is that much softer.

It should be gross. They both have morning breath, and minutes ago the thought of their bare skin touching made Keith want to throw up, but now the press of Lance’s chapped lips to his is addicting and calming and electrifying.

“Mmf.”

Lance stirs, groggy and half awake, but it’s — this is not the first time he’s woken to Keith’s closeness.

It takes him a few seconds to boot up, for his brain to catch up with the way his hands are already sliding up the back of Keith’s neck, tangling in his hair. Keith knows he’s awake when he feels the flutter of Lance’s absurdly long eyelashes against his cheekbones, when his mouth stretches into a grin too wide to kiss properly.

“Hi,” he mumbles happily. He keeps one hand on the base of Keith’s skull, letting the other one slide coyly down the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his chest, the line of hair under his navel, resting cheekily on the top of his waistband. Every brush of his fingers washes away the burn shame still lingering. “You’re touchy this morning.”

Keith hums. He presses his lips to the corner of Lance’s mouth, to his cheek, to his jaw, down his neck. His stubble must be too light on Lance’s skin because he laughs, airy, smacking his palm on Keith’s scapula. Keith snickers, rubbing his cheek harder along his neck just to make him shriek, revelling in the way Lance wraps his legs around his hips to try and flip him but can’t, the way he shoves and pinches but lets up the second Keith starts to suck a bruise on his collarbone.

He’s so easy.

“Keith,” Lance whines, but it’s breathy and Keith wants to swallow to sound. “Keith, we’re disgusting. Your breath stinks and if I don’t shower I’m going to hurt somebody. Probably you. Do you want me to hurt you?”

Keith reaches up, pressing Lance’s fingers deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, and lets his silence speak for him.

Lance snorts, and Keith knows he has him because he melts visibly. “You dog.”

The hand in Keith’s hair starts to move, combing through the tangled strands, scratching gently at his scalp. Keith doesn’t let up, but he softens in kind, letting his lips on Lance’s skin morph into something softer, more chaste.

“We can screw in the shower?” he offers, voice hopeful. “That’s a good compromise.”

It is a good compromise, but Keith is feeling bold (i love you isn’t that reason enough it’s physical you have ruined everyone you ever loved it’s physical it’s physical it’s physical), so he sets out to guarantee Lance will bend.

He pulls away from Lance’s neck, just slightly, and looks up from under his lashes, widening his eyes just so.

And watched with great pleasure as Lance crumbles.

He shoves Keith’s face away, red-cheeked and huffy, throwing off the covers and stomping to the ensuite. He grumbles all the way there, much of it too low for Keith to hear but much more of it loud and pointed and intentional (Keith knows what zorra means, thanks.)

“I want to actually shower,” Lance says sternly, water droplets flicking off his wagging finger and landing on Keith’s nose.

Keith nods sagely. “We will.”

“In decent time, Akira.”

“Of course.”

“I have stuff to do today.”

“Me too.”

“Minimal shenanigans.”

“Minute.”

The shower lasts well over an hour.

“Wipe the smirk off your face,” Lance demands, but his lips are twitching, too,

Keith grabs him by the waist and dips him, laughing, kissing him soundly and wholly and he wonders what the fuck is his problem. He wonders why he has to be so goddamn resistant to things, why he works himself up so bad, why any of that shit matters. Why can’t he have this? Why can’t he have — one good thing, the one; why can’t he have Lance’s gun-calloused palms on his cheeks and smile pressed to his and deep dark brown eyes warm and pretty and happy and pointed at him? Why can’t he have that? Why can’t things be good and simple, why can’t this be something he can fall into?

I love you.

Isn’t that reason enough?

He’s not careless. He can’t afford to be.

But he’s — loosened. His guard is down. They get dressed and ready for the day and Keith follows Lance out their door and he’s laughing, and his hand is curled around the curve of his waist, and they smell of the same shampoo.

“Does it amuse you to make me late for things, you jackass — oh! Hunk!”

Keith inhales sharp and short. He yanks his hand away like it hurts to keep it there for a second longer, stumbling backwards.

“Hey, guys.”

Something tight and painful coils in his stomach, and his blood turns to lead. Hunk’s expression is carefully, carefully pleasant; soft, even, as he returns Lance’s hug and greeting.

But the pinprick at the back of his neck is back. The shame, hot, crawls down his spine, blooms heavy in the hollow of his chest.

“I’m gonna go — train,” he chokes out, hyperaware of the bruise on Lance’s neck, of the cobweb in the corner of his room, the braid in Keith’s hair; hyperaware of Hunk’s eye on them.

“Aw,” Lance pouts. “You sure?”

Keith can’t manage a verbal response. His throat has closed, aching, dry, desolate. He barely manages a nod.

“We’ll see you at dinner?” Hunk asks, only there’s no request in his voice, and Keith doesn’t miss how his body has curved, slightly; just barely nudging Lance behind him, as if he is to be protected, as if he is to be protected from Keith.

I love you.

You have ruined everything you have ever loved.

Isn’t that reason enough?

Physical, physical, physical.

Keith turns and flees.

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sohnric · 3 months

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MAGNETISM — B. JACOB

pairing: jacob bae x gn! reader

genre: fluff

word count: 500

warnings: none!

a/n: haven't posted something so short in a while wow. have this as i struggle to finish my longer wips ahaha

Blue light shines over his face as he lays in the bed with his phone in his hand. Headphones are slotted in his ears as he listens to his music on low volume, the flashes of the game he’s been playing announcing to him that he won the round with the outstanding lead on everyone, making a childlike sense of pride swell in his chest.

An arm sneaks around his middle at that, his head turning and eyes squinting at your face in a worry that he somehow managed to wake you up from your slumber. Darkness envelops the room, given the late hours of the night, but he manages to make out the shapes of your closed eyes, your long eyelashes crowning the tips of your full cheeks.

The contact of you pulling him closer to you makes the pride in his chest bloom bigger, a gentle smile battling its way onto his lips. Jacob locks his phone and puts it on the mattress next to him, the rest of the room falling into a complete darkness that is only fought away by the soft beam of moonlight coming from the window on the side of his room. His eyes can’t help but stay glued to your figure, studying your sleeping face.

He would like to imprint the image of your face just like this, lying peacefully next to him, into his memory forever. There’s nothing special about it, in the mundane nature of it all, but something about the way he feels particularly fond of you, insides laced with softness he only has reserved for you and you only, makes him put more significance to the late hours of the day. You came into his life slowly, creeping your way in, as naturally as the seasons change– without him noticing at first, but making him gape wordlessly at the difference in temperatures when he looks back a few months later.

It’s like you put the sun into his sky, turning his days into a constant golden hour. He can’t help but worship your ability to chase away the thunders and the clouds, he can’t help but think of you every morning and every night, treasuring your sheer existence in his chest more than anything in the world.

A gentle hand is placed onto your back, fingertips oozing with magical magnetism when he holds you in his arms. It’s like you two were made for each other, attached with invisible strings, only waiting to be pulled together in the tumbles and turns of your lifetimes.

Jacob hopes he finds you in every universe. The words feel grandiose in his brain, too much weight put on a simple feeling, but the more he thinks about it, although admitting it’s foolish and romantic, the more he thinks it’s right.

Paying you one last look before he decides to doze off, a flickering thought passes through his brain. I think I’m falling in love, his brain waves hum, and for a split second, the sentiment sounds almost unrealistic, just the tiniest bit strange on his tongue.

Still, when he looks at you again, soft flesh all his against his chest, he knows it’s true. Life didn’t stop when he fell, but he certainly thinks he was reborn the day you picked him up to his feet. He falls asleep with the words ‘love, love, love’ chanting in his brain, wishing that the frequencies you operate on match– hoping that you get the memo; even in your dreams.

#deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #jacob bae x reader #bae joonyoung x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #jacob bae fluff #jacob bae imagines #jacob bae scenarios #the boyz oneshots #jacob bae oneshot #bae joonyoung oneshot

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matchabears · 1 year

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notes on falling in love

pairing. alhaitham x reader (feat. kaveh) synopsis. it’s in the little things, really. wc. 1k themes. angst, unrequited pining, modern au(ish) because i barely give any description lmao, this is mostly about feelings, feelings tw, alhaitham is a robot science man allergic to the human spectrum of emotion now playing. hoax by taylor swift note. the way i’m shit at writing angst but am incapable of writing anything else

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

alhaitham pauses, in the middle of shelving the stack of books in his arms. he doesn’t look down, but he can see you blinking curiously up at him in his peripheral.

he’s relieved that he’s at the very top of the ladder, so you don’t notice the way his fingers tighten around the spine of the book and how he has to shift his weight so he doesn’t lose his balance. when he opens his mouth to respond, he draws in a shaky breath.

“i have no reason to like or dislike you,” he responds curtly. “so long as you do your job properly.”

that’s right, he has no need for such useless sentiments; he’s a man of science after all. flowery language and cursory emotions are a waste of energy and all detract from his ultimate goal of pursuing concrete, infallible knowledge.

so he steadies himself and climbs down the ladder, ignoring how tightly his heart constricts when he sees you smile.

it’s just an organ.

“i guess i walked right into that one,” you grin before nodding towards the stack of books in his arms. “need help with those?”

“no,” he simply says, pulling the ladder to the other side of the shelf. with his back turned to you, he’s much more at ease. if he can’t see you, then he can’t find another attribute of yours to commit to memory.

you don’t listen, though, because you never do. instead, you snatch the books from him and climb the ladder yourself before he can react.

“what are you doing?” he furrows his brows.

“trying to get on your good side,” you hum.

“is this why you’ve been following me around all day?” he sighs.

you wince sheepishly. “was it that obvious? i thought i was being pretty subtle.”

alhaitham, with traitorous eyes trained to notice and analyze every little detail, follows the movement as if it had a magnetic pull, dragging his gaze across your features. he drinks in the color of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the flutter of your eyelashes, the glow of your skin, and the tinted sheen on your lips like he were studying a textbook on astrophysics.

but it would be amiss to compare you to any branch of science, he supposes. sciences produces results, logic, and answers.

you are loud and obnoxious, ironic for someone who works in a library. you are a hindrance more than help to most of the daily tasks, cutting down productivity by at least fifty percent with your chattering and penchant for distraction. you are person with a naturally alluring disposition that draws people in. you are able to speak to patrons of the library with a charm that seems mystical to him. you are a warmth that only exists in the confines of fantasy. you are everything he finds to be a waste of time in a person, and you are everything that he is not.

you are the only anomaly he can’t solve.

“you are many things, but subtle is not one of them.”

that makes you laugh, and the ladder, as old and rickety as it is, trembles just like the stupid organ that is his heart. as if it were a reflex, alhaitham reaches out his hand and steadies the ladder.

it’s a pointless gesture, really. him holding the ladder still doesn’t eliminate the risk of you falling. yet, he grips the wooden material so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“is it so wrong of me to want to be friends with my new boyfriend’s roommate and also my co-worker for way longer than that?” you whine.

what ridiculous titles, he thinks to himself. he and you can barely even be regarded as acquaintances, but you’ve somehow found a way to establish a connection. alhaitham doesn’t even want to be acquaintances with you, most certainly not friends.

he despises that you are almost nothing to him. why couldn’t you be something or just nothing? you’re almost. almost something and almost nothing all at the same time. that gray area makes him feel, feel, feel—that damn word—like he isn’t in control; it’s an ugly, dark sensation that coils in the pit of his stomach like a venomous snake.

“i don’t want to be friends with you,” he chokes out, a desperate tinge to his voice that he hopes you don’t notice.

“well, i’m a lot more stubborn than you think, so just you wait,” you reply in a teasing manner.

a muscle in his jaw spasms just as someone calls out your name, sparing him from having to respond.

alhaitham watches as your face, the one he’s been enraptured with since the moment he’s laid eyes on you, lights up with an expression that he will never be able to bring out of you.

you hurriedly climb down the ladder, your conversation with him long forgotten, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“kaveh!”

logically, it makes sense that you ended up with kaveh. he leads with his heart instead of his head, he lets his personal attachments get in the way of rationality, and he’s a person that will consider your feelings first and foremost. and above all, he has the capacity to love you.

love, a mere chemical defect of the brain. love, needless self-sacrifice for a temporary high. love, a concept that alhaitham will never understand.

the way you smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in your shirt,

the way you aimlessly fidget with your fingers and bounce on the balls of your feet,

the way you drink the can of black coffee he hands you even though you dump at least five spoonfuls of sugar in your normal cup,

the way you suck on your bottom lip to hide the bitterness and smear away the lip gloss you put on especially for him,

the way your breath hitches when he laces your fingers through his and brings your knuckles to his lips,

the way you look at kaveh just like how alhaitham looks at you.

“you don’t like me very much, do you?”

no, he doesn’t.

#genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham drabble #genshin angst #genshin alhaitham #genshin fanfic #alhaitham #drabble #genshin impact #matchabears

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neptunes-sol-angel · 2 years

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What About your Past Life Contributes to your Aesthetic?

I know I mentioned before that I don't like past life readings, but only because they're usually depressing depending on which topic I'm channeling about, but I wanted to do something different and I know for sure that this shouldn't be too heavy. Enjoy ♡

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Pile One

I feel that in one of your past lives, you left this earth regretting how much you kept quiet when it came to expressing yourself emotionally whether that be verbally or physically. You kept yourself confined in order to look the part for a role under someone else's wing. This can apply to either a job or a significant other. It's like you believed that in order to thrive in your career or to have a successful relationship, you had to make yourself seen, but not too much that would overpower others. Major people pleasing tendencies and possibly a jealous partner that didn't want you to see your worth.

In this lifetime, you fulfill the missed opportunities that your past self deeply wanted by transforming into the polar opposite of what they were. Your aesthetic thrives on maximalist self expression and giving meaning into everything that you use to enhance your appearance. People could make snide comments insinuating that you're "doing the most"—but like a wonderful person once said "why would we want to do the least?". I'm getting that in your past life, you were conservative with your clothing, and that your choice in colors were dull. But in this lifetime, I see you utilizing more colors in your wardrobe and making each of your outfits a statement. I'm picking up a very specific scenario. Some people in this group embody the siren archetype. You could literally love to accessorize with seashells or garments that are associated with the sea. Maybe you show a lot of skin because I'm hearing the word "provocative". You decorate your skin often with either body glitter or tattoos/henna (maybe you plan to) but when it comes to illustrating your body, each piece of art is going to symbolically represent the things that made you the happiest in your life and the hurdles that you've beat. If you've self harmed in the past, I can definitely see you improvising your scars with a tattoo. This group could also emphasize their eyes a lot with eyelashes, like for instance, exaggerating the length to create a doe-eyed effect or maybe even minimizing them in a way to create siren-eye effect. The main pattern that I'm picking up though is that skin is highlighted because again, you aim to make statements with your appearance, like making a point that what you wear is because you want to but it isn't an en excuse for other people to do what they want to it without your consent or empowering yourself and others to wear certain pieces of clothing regardless of what people project onto you. You could be viewed as someone peculiar or made to feel ashamed about your natural features or identity—but you emotionally invest so much in fashion as a way to say "I have the right to loudly exist and I won't hide myself".

Pile Two

In a past life, you resembled or shared a similar fate to someone you felt really drawn to as a child or when you were younger in this lifetime. It's giving classical, bombshell, Hollywood star esque, and the Marilyn Monroe type. You may have not been famous, but there's something about your looks that were densely displayed that a lot of people knew you for. Maybe you fit a lot of people's conceptual image of what their dream person looks like because I'm getting that you had this beauty that was extremely magnetizing but sadly objectified.

In this lifetime, your aesthetic is what I would describe as passionate but discreet fury, that's probably derived from how overexposed and idealized you felt in your past life. Red, black, and leather could be prominent in your wardrobe. Mauves, reds, or berry tones could be your go to shades for your lips, or maybe this is symbolic for how tantalizing your seductive qualities are. Black hair and/or bangs could be something that you prefer, or hairstyles that that kind of overshadow your face.

Your aesthetic in this life is a darker contrast of what you were in that past life. Attractive—but not inviting. Mesmerizing—but not an image that they're able to keep. It's like you guys are this faceless muse. Another thing that parallels with your past life is that people knew you were their dream person because of your notierty, but in this lifetime you either actually show up as this hazy figure in people's dreams or you're like this ghost that leaves people wanting more but you're unable to trace—and you'd like to keep it that way. If you guys are artists maybe you like to create modern portraits where faces aren't present, or you're able to create masterpieces that draw away from what someone looks like. You could use little social media or despise picture apps like Instagram and prefer to keep your face off the internet. Your style also personifies originality. You could have a lot of people copy off of your looks or you're someone that people would put on their moodboards if they could.

Pile Three

One of your most significant past lives must have taken place in the 70s because I'm getting that your aesthetic in this lifetime resembles a lot to what you used to wear. It's almost as if your soul loved this life so much that it just had to treasure this specific piece of it. You could be into flared/bellybottom sleeves and jeans or tops (bodysuits) that exaggerate warm colors and retro patterns that accentuate your body. Vests, jean jackets, Penny lane coats, or frilly and unique outerwear are probably the key to your heart. You could love to accessorize with hats or wigs that strongly differ from your natural hair color. Maybe you have a collection of vintage items belonging to things that you have a real interest in. Because I'm picking up that some of you could be casual cosplayers. Not necessary dressing up in a costume everywhere, but you could own a lot of unique t-shirts and accessories relating to things that you're nostalgic about like anime, cartoons, bands, or quirky graphical shirts—or wear similar color schemes and clothing pieces to a beloved character of yours. Your style could draw in a lot of attention and compliments from people because they admire how much you confidently wear things that'll make you stand out from others.

Pile Four

In a past life, your relationships pertaining to love heavily influenced the way that you were dressed. Jewelry and clothing pieces that your person gifted you would be cherished daily in your outfits, you constantly based your looks off of what they personally were attracted to or their suggestions, and even when you weren't in a relationship, you dressed yourself according to what would make you desirable to another person.

I feel like this manifested into your current lifetime, but this time, it's because you actually like it, not because of anyone else. Your aesthetic could resemble a lot to the pastel pink, cream, black, and/or white coquette aesthetic. You could be really drawn to 50s/60s vintage fashion, especially pearl necklaces. Definitely swing style clothing. Neck scarves, sunglasses, and apparent bottom lashes. Although I see you guys loving soft colors, I also see you experimenting with color palletes that are more Rouge. I feel that your style also likens a lot to Fran from 'The Nanny'

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #oracle #spirituality #tarot #pac #pick a pile #tarotblr #tarot community #pick a picture #aesthetic

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rippersz · 1 year

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𝒯𝑜 𝒫𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒲𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃:

(A Larissa Weems x fem!reader fanfic) (Part 2)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Despite your inclination to romanticizing life, you still experienced the dreaded bad days. Mental health was something you took very seriously seeing as you had issues in the past, though as any fellow sufferer would know, the worst feelings often came back with a vengeance. Your boss, thank goodness she was a kind woman, understood your struggle and allowed you the necessary number of days off. As long as it didn’t get too excessive, you could take all the time you needed. And you did.

That Monday, you decided to treat yourself. The new year had started out well and your mind was already quite cluttered - a small day in your own company could sort things out, couldn’t it?

Yes. Surely.

Well… it could… if the stranger from Friday wasn’t sitting in the same exact spot again. And if she weren’t looking so beautiful… again. And if she weren’t not paying attention to you… again.

You let out a sigh as you sat down, and for the first time in a while felt quite awkward in your usual seat. There weren’t many people there on a Monday mid-morning- the rush had already passed- so the amount of distractions was numbered. Not that you were intentionally looking for a distraction. Oh no. Why would you do that? There was nothing you needed to distract yourself from. Especially not a certain stranger with a certain aura who had a certain beautiful hair style and wore a certain cream colored dress with gold jewelry and a white overcoat. Yeah, there was nothing. Nothing you needed to pull your eyes from. Nothing you needed to avoid staring at because it was so… pleasing to observe.

Nope. Not a thing.

That being said, you looked anywhere other than right in front of you. To your left was a group of tired teens, definitely heading off somewhere like a skatepark or a gym of some sorts. To your right was a woman pacing- clearly late for work; and two men standing in suits with their backs pressed to the station wall- clearly dreading said work. Beyond them were other civilians (not nearly as eye-catching as a certain stranger-who-shall-not-be-mentioned) that were going about their days. A little girl staring down at her mother’s iPad while the mother spoke on the phone. A young boy counting the trampled gum stains at his feet. Two older ladies making hushed conversation as they stood side by side and waited for their train. You looked over them all… and felt a strange loss of passion.

Yes, they were all living. Yes, they were all engrossed in themselves. Yes, they were still worthy of being observed and wondered over…

But they were nothing in comparison to what you had caught a glimpse of.

Such a small dose- a small few moments on that one Friday evening- and your curiosity was tugged into the spotlight. Triggered, almost. So, drawn naturally like iron to a magnet, like a moth to a burning flame, you gave into yourself and peered up through your eyelashes nervously. Sneakily. You didn’t want her to catch you staring and think you were strange and walk away from the station forever and never come back. You didn’t want the only other time that you stared into those gorgeous eyes to be from across a subway platform that she saw you at not even 2 days ago. You just… well your interest was harmless. A few minutes of admiration was not enough.

(Though you were sure you’d need more than a hundred lifetimes to properly appreciate her image quite honestly.)

And thank goodness the gods answered your silent prayers. She was still there. Still beautiful. Still otherworldly in a way that you’d never accurately be able to explain. Still sitting as though the world didn’t bend to her will and turn its head as soon as she walked into a room- or a subway station for that matter. And she really wasn’t doing anything noteworthy. She was just sitting with her arms crossed over her chest and her back pressed against the cold metal of the bench and her eyes staring at one random spot on the floor. Lost in thought, you supposed the angel was. And because you were utterly helpless to such beauty, you allowed yourself to become similarly lost while indulging your eyes.

Her makeup was perfect, you noticed. How long had it taken her to perfect the look over the years? Did she ever have trouble with the eyeliner? Was it hard for her or did she find it easy? If she did, was she an artist too? Would she ever get her hands dirty? Were the insides of her gloves stained lightly with charcoal dust or marred by the remnants of paint? Were her nails colored? Were they white? Red, maybe? To match her lipstick? She was a fashionista- surely her nails matched some part of her aesthetic. Though the real question was what was that aesthetic? Bright hues and dashes of color? Did she secretly wear black and grey to bed? One would think the lightness of her clothing, hair, and skin were signs of innocence or cleanliness… but you weren’t sure what to make of it. She looked severe. Strong. Although maybe that was just due to her height and stature… both of which were (admittedly) quite impressive. Broad but feminine shoulders hid beneath the long cashmere coat she wore- and the cleanest white kitten heels adorned her feet. Really the longer you looked, the more you figured she smelled like fresh linen and gardenia perfume. Or maybe… maybe she smelled like jasmine and roses. Something heavier. Maybe she wasn’t innocent or clean or strong at all. Maybe her personality didn’t match her appearance. Maybe she was unbelievably kind and never knew how to say ‘no’ and felt guilty when she couldn’t make it to lunch with a friend because she was busy working. Maybe she was popular. Maybe she was a lone wolf. Though just because she sat alone didn’t mean she was lonely… many people didn’t have a partner to ride the train with. Many didn’t want one in the first place.

…Did she?

Did she want one? Did she have one at home and they were simply busy? Or maybe a partner was waiting for her on the other line… standing patiently with flowers in hand and an excited smile on their face. Maybe there was someone at home. Maybe she had been with them at the station over the weekend while you were busy sleeping in and catching up on shows at night. Maybe she was married and would put her ring back on after her gloves came off when she was out of the chill. Although then again, maybe there was no ring. Maybe there was no partner. Maybe she was just as alone as you were and the wishful thinking tirade you were going on wasn’t wishful thinking at all and was actually the truth. Maybe she had grown tired of limited human interaction. Maybe her car was getting repaired and she didn’t want to spend money on however many different cabs she’d have to take during her wait.

Or… maybe she didn’t have a car at all. Or a ring. Or a partner. Or any money. Maybe she rented the clothing and used YouTube videos to get the hairstyle. Maybe the jewelry was cheap and left green remnants on her skin when she took it all off in the evening. Maybe she was struggling with bills. Maybe she bought her perfume off of Amazon and really disliked the thought of buying things that cost over 100 dollars. Maybe she did have a partner but didn’t have a ring because they both agreed that rings were silly and that their love was enough to ensure their devotion to each other.

…And, if by chance that was indeed the case… well you couldn’t help but wonder if she was positive that she had found ‘the one’. Was she happy with them? Did they give her the world? Did they meet all of her needs and provide intellectual conversation and offer to bring the groceries in when she returned from the shops? Did they tell her she could light up the world by just existing? Did they help her brush her hair out at night? Or wash her back in the shower? Or make her dinner when she was too tired to even get up from the couch? Did they help clean before hosting the next morning? Did they gush about her to their friends and make said friends smile and roll their eyes and claim that they were ‘whipped’ for her? Were they whipped for her? Did they insist that no matter how many arguments they had or how many differences existed between them, that they could still make it work and give the relationship their all? Were they in love with her? Was she in love with them? And was there any real logical reason as to why you were worrying about a beautiful stranger’s love life even though you hadn’t shared one conversation with her?

That particular thought made you pause, blink, and look away as if ashamed. Now you weren’t one for quick airport-crushes and two minute potential love interests (you much preferred wondering about a person instead of kissing them) but… something… about that woman was just so terribly intriguing. Perhaps it was because she stood out so much. Or maybe your loneliness was finally catching up to you.

Well whatever the case, either way, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her for longer than 2 minutes. And even that felt like an eternity.

The rush of the oncoming train forced you out of your stupor, and suddenly your previous view of an undercover angel was disrupted when you looked up and only saw metal. Swallowing a sigh, you watched as the doors opened and the world went on its way. There was always light pushing and shoving when the crowd made their rounds, but everyone was really far too busy with their race against time to stop and call out someone for their rude behavior. It would be pointless anyway- pointless and a precious minute wasting endeavor.

And when the smoke finally cleared and the train was whooshing itself away to another destination- you felt the oddest sensation in your heart. Almost like… like… anticipation? Excitement? Nervousness? For a second you couldn’t quite put your finger on it… until, of course, when you looked at the bench across from you and proceeded to deflate like a ripped balloon.

She was gone.

The stranger was gone. Just like that. One second she is there on her phone, existing in her own little world, and the next she’s just- gone. Like a star that fizzled out. Like an airplane disappearing behind clouds. Like a friend who stopped texting back. Like a person you’d probably never see again.

And you, sitting there alone on that cold metal subway bench, listening to the world and coming back to your senses, decided to promptly ignore the sudden rotted feeling of melancholy that seeped into your heart.

It didn’t belong there. Not for a stranger.

(Even if she was the most exquisite human you’d ever see in your lifetime.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Thank you for the support! Thoughts on a Part 3?

- Ripley

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

@tanith-rhea @weemssapphic @rosieathena @jinxscatbomb @machi-avelli

#fanfiction #wednesday netflix #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa weems x y/n #part 2 #fanfic #wednesday fanfic #fanfictionwriter #wlw fanfic

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glamgamebeauty · 2 years

Link

How can you choose the ideal set of false eyelashes when you're in a rush, yet nothing less than gorgeous would do because there are so many possibilities available to you? First, think about the occasion. Specific needs will be associated with various event kinds that must be met. Choosing a set that will play to your strengths heavily depends on your eye shape. Additionally, if you select a product that does not enhance the condition of your eyes, you risk ruining the appearance you are going for. For example, the area surrounding the eyes might be dramatic on specific faces but not on others. So when you select a set that isn't suited for you, you risk seeming overdone. To avoid last minute confusion, just opt for natural looking magnetic eyelashes.

#natural looking magnetic eyelashes #natural looking magnetic lashes #natural magnetic lashes

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daisyful-gvf · 2 years

Text

honey & chamomile, peaches & cream // by daisyful

18+

****************************************

pairings: jake kiszka x reader

notes: this is kind of vulgar i’m ngl but in a sweet way sorry abt it . i barely edited this sorry for any errors lol

tags: fluff and smut, oral sex, fingering, praise, pet names, i guess what you’d consider dirty talk but it’s rly endearing 😋

word count: 3.8k

summary: you’re tired and jake wants to help you relax 💗

*****************************************

He handed you the chamomile tea before he climbed back into bed. It was perfect, just how you liked it, with honey and a splash of oat milk. You hummed at it and offered him a soft smile.

“Good?” he asked upon your first sip. He slipped under the covers with you.

You nodded, blowing on it softly to cool it.

Another episode of the nature show you were watching ended, and then it faded into the next. You felt so comfortable like this.

“Put your arm around me?” You asked him softly, taking another sip. He nodded and did as you asked.

You took a moment to look into his eyes. They were surreal. So soft and brown, so clear and mellow. Serene and interesting. Magnetic. Deep. You could get lost in them—a silly expression had never resonated more.

He let you look into them for a while without breaking the silence, without any teasing or questioning. He stared back, easy, and brought his other hand around to touch your face.

“I care for you so much,” he breathed. Your heart stuttered. You knew he loved you; he knew you loved him. This was his way of saying more. “You’re so special.”

You bit your lip, trying to help the grin that was appearing on your face.

“Does my girl like that?” he teased before softening again, “You are,” he repeated. He glanced over your face and hummed. “Drink your tea, angel,” he encouraged, sitting back how he was before, rubbing your shoulder with his hand.

You smiled and you did; sipped the warm tea, let your weight sink into the bed. Watched the bees swarm through the clovers on the TV.

After a long comfortable silence disturbed only by the nature sounds, Jake spoke again.

“I love you,” he said, low and quiet, “I love these kind of nights with you.”

You looked over to meet his gaze. He had a small smile, and his eyes watched your lips. His hair was a mess—not brushed, that’s for sure, pulled into a low bun with some strands untucked. He was shirtless, but had soft pajama bottoms on that grazed your bare thigh sweetly. You had on one of their band shirts, a size too big and extra cozy. He toyed with the hem of it with the hand that was around your shoulders.

“Me too,” you whispered back, taking another drink of your tea.

“Lemme try that,” Jake murmured, reaching for the cup. You gave it to him.

His eyes closed as he drank, and you wished you could have had your phone out fast enough to take a picture: his dark eyelashes thick with the low light, his large hands around the vintage mug, his lips pursed beautifully. Stunning.

He hummed, “S’good,” he wiped his lip as he handed the cup back to you, “Relaxing.”

You nodded, taking another drink. His hand moved from your shoulders, instead resting on your thigh under the blanket.

“You relaxed?” He murmured, tracing his fingers on your leg.

You nodded, “Almost sleepy,”

He nodded, then, still skirting his fingers up and down your leg.

“Drink your tea, angel,” he murmured again.

“Why do you want me to finish my tea so badly?“ You grinned, taking another drink. Almost done.

He licked his bottom lip, “Just wanna spend time with you,” he answered.

“Yeah?” you took another sip. You swallowed, “We are spending time together,” you pointed out lovingly.

He laughed gently, “Yeah,” he agreed, “I know.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his cryptic language, but dismissed him, as you were sleepy; maybe you were just missing something.

You took your final drink of tea and sat it on the nightstand.

When you moved to sit back down, Jake's hand was gently at your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. It was languid and loving. He sighed into you, his breath warm.

He pulled away slow, his smile full-fledging.

“More?” he asked, his voice a low purr. You nodded, sporting a similar grin.

You kissed him again, feeling his lips on yours, feeling his tongue swipe over your bottom lip, feeling the pad of his thumb on your cheek.

“You’re so sweet,” he breathed. He moved his kisses to your cheek, then to your jaw. He slid his hand down to hold your head, guiding it to the side so he could lean down and kiss your neck.

“What are you doing, Jacob?” you sighed, letting your eyes close. He chuckled at the name.

“Jacob, huh?” he nipped softly at your neck, “I’m kissing you.” he pointed out, matter-of-fact. You laughed again.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you giggled. He moved to the other side of your neck. Your skin heated slightly. Your body was still very dazed by a sleepy weight.

“I wanna take care of you,” he murmured into your skin, “That okay?“

You turned his words over in your head, “How so?”

He licked at your neck then, no longer soft and easy. His hand skirted over your thigh and between your legs to rub softly over your cotton underwear.

“Jake,” you sighed.

“Mm?” he questioned, licking at your shoulder, his body sinking lower down the bed, “This okay?” he asked again.

You nodded, reaching down to push the middle of your panties to the side. He breathed out, registering the motion, and sliding his fingers against you tenderly.

You let your head fall back, your eyes shut. You sank your body lower down the bed so your head could fall back into the pillow, knowing his hand would follow you, and so it did.

He moved, then, planting a final kiss to the top of your hand before settling between your legs. His waist down was covered by the white duvet. His skin looked sinfully tan contrasted against it.

He peppered kisses over your thighs, rubbing his large hands over the sides of them. The low bun looked ridiculously good on him; you wished he wore it like that more.

He looked up at you, his lips hovering over the skin of your thigh. His lips curled into a grin: sweet, not cocky.

“You’re lovely,” He purred, “you taste like home,” he licked a kiss over your thigh as if to prove his point.

You were blushing and you knew it, but it was too sweet to scold him.

“I wanna talk to you,” he said. He pulled your panties back over to cover you, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb gently over the fabric, over your clit, a loving sort of tease. “Can I talk to you, angel?”

You nodded, curious, “Of course. Where’s this coming from?”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you knew you were looking at him only half-way.

He giggled, “Sleepy girl,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your heat through the fabric, “I just love you,” he explained, “Just feel very in love right now, wanna make you feel cared for.”

Your heart fluttered at that: full-on butterflies.

“Yeah?” You glanced down at him, toying with the strands of hair that framed his face, “I love you,” you managed, a small yawn esapcing you.

He kissed you through your panties again, “If you fall asleep is it okay if I keep going?” he murmured, his empty hand tracing your thigh, “Not gonna fuck you,” he clarified, “just go down on you, finger you. That okay?”

You groaned, sleepy but aroused, “Yeah,” you breathed, “I won’t, though,” you grinned, “Couldn’t if I wanted to, I wanna feel it.”

He giggled, licking over your panties. A shaky breath escaped you. His touch was wonderful—nothing urgent, only loving, only soft.

He settled down, his head lowered between your legs, one arm curled under your thigh to hold your hip, the other elbow over your hip, fingers working lightly over your panties.

He licked at the crease of your inner thigh, and you whined.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed, licking again, “love how you sound for me.”

Your hand stayed on his head, sort of wound into the roots of his hair, only barely. Your other hand rested on your chest.

“Pull your shirt up for me, pretty girl?” He asked softly, “Please? Wanna see your pretty tits,” He licked over you again, and you knew the panties had to be soaking by now.

You complied, hiking the large shirt just far enough up to reveal your breasts, the fabric resting easily just above your nipples. The air hitting your skin made your hips writhe. He held you with his arm.

“Mm,” he licked his lips, looking up at you, “So perfect,”

You blushed again, grinning, feeling nothing but pure adoration for him.

He finally nudged your panties to the side. You watched as he sucked on two of his finger tips before bringing them down to rub over you. You sighed heavily, a smile finding its way naturally to your face.

“My pretty girl like that?” He asked, eyes fixed on his fingers.

“Mmhm,” you sighed, pushing your hips up to meet his touch.

“Good, baby,” he soothed, “I love my pretty girl.” His voice was so low and soft. It cracked often, in a devastatingly arousing way.

“You look like heaven, angel,” he purred, “I call you angel for so many reasons. This is just one,” he placed a soft kiss to your clit and you whined, “look like heaven, taste like heaven.”

He rubbed his finger over your clit again and you moaned, the flesh swollen from the teasing.

“Mm,” he encouraged, “sound like heaven, like some perfect chord,” he kitten-licked again and you let out a shaky sigh, “you like that, angel?”

God, you loved when he talked. You wished he would never shut up, especially talking in this sensual way, only for you.

“Want more?” he asked, genuine and soft—he wasn’t toying with you tonight, only serving you.

You nodded.

“Tongue or fingers?” he asked, rubbing his pointer finger over you mildly, like he just wanted to feel you.

“Tongue,” you replied, no contest, you though. You giggled to yourself at that.

“What?” He licked once at you, making you bite your lip, “what’s my angel laughing about?”

“I don’t know, I’m sleepy,” you answered, honestly, because you couldn’t put your finger on what you had giggled about.

“You can be as sleepy as you need, babe,” his words buzzed against your skin, his mouth so close, “I have you,” he gripped your hip a little as a reminder, “Want you to relax,”

“Mm,” you looked down at him, “what did I do to deserve this, huh? You’re being extra sweet,” you touched his nose softly. He smiled.

“Missed you,” he breathed, kissing your clit again, “and I always think you deserve this. Maybe I should be doing this more,” he licked over you firmly, finally, a thick and wet stripe. You ground your hips down into it as a groan fell from your lips.

“What is ‘this’ exactly?” you smiled, “you go down on me all the time.”

He chuckled, “But this,” he cleared his throat, “slow and relaxing,” he gently bit your thigh, “not rushing, not trying to tease you,” he swallowed, finding his words, “just treating you, angel.”

“Mm,” you nodded, “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he tugged at your panties, slipping them down your leg before looking back up to you, “God, your tits look good,” he shook his head, distracted, “Alright angel, just relax for me.”

The hand hooked over your hip rubbed your skin softly and melodically, a soothing touch.

He lowered his head and licked over you several more times, his tongue warm and slow.

You let yourself sigh and moan just softly, whatever noises decided they would escape you. You yawned again, not bored by any means, but relaxed.

He licked more, then, broader stripes, all the way over you. Softly, his fingers teased you, slipping easily over you, just feeling.

“So soft,” he breathed against you, “Here, baby,” he eased two fingers into you slowly, knowing you enjoyed the gentle stretch of both digits. You whined and rolled into the touch, “Yeah, angel,” he affirmed, “you like that, don’t you?”

You nodded lazily.

“Feel good?“ he mused, “my pretty girl feel full?”

His voice was so dreadfully loving and aroused at the same time, teetering on obscene.

“My fingers were made for you,” he murmured, his voice as if he was reading a poem, “maybe for the guitar, too,” he giggled, “but definitely for you,”

He curled them inside you, feeling, finding what you liked. He pumped them in and out in a languid rhythm.

“You fit so perfect around them,” he continued. He was keeping true to his promise about talking, “Always makes me want you. But I hope they feel good for you,” he pushed them all the way in and you groaned, a small gasp punctuating it, “Do they feel good for you, angel?”

You nodded, tired but now incredibly invested in this.

“You don’t have to say anything, babe,” he assured, kissing your clit, “Like I said, I’ll talk, I just wanted to know.”

Your cheeks were hot with his words—how could be be so sweet and so filthy at the same time?

He licked sloppily over you as his fingers dragged inside you, his spit and your wetness coating you. His tongue moved in lazy circles, with no urgency, just consistency. You could come like this, for sure—the slow build was perfect.

He gave you a gentle sucking kiss, continuing to move his fingers, but pulled his mouth away to speak, “How about my tongue?” His eyes peeked up at you, “Feel good for you?”

You nodded feverishly, brushing your thumb at the top of his forehead lovingly, “so good,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” he smirked, licking a stripe over you, listening to you whine, “That’s good, angel, I love making you moan like that. Do it for me again, pretty girl,” he latched onto you, sucking and licking with his hot tongue. You didn’t have to try, the moans spilled from you. He groaned against you.

You noticed something, then, as your eyes fluttered back down—

“Are you grinding into the bed?” You murmured, an amused smirk on your face.

He pulled his mouth from you and grinned, nodding, “Yeah,” he breathed, unashamed, “I’m having fun.”

You groaned at that, rubbing your hand over your face.

“That okay with you?” he smiled, giggling.

You nodded, letting your hand fall back to your chest. “S’hot.”

He smiled, “Good,” he licked over you again, curling his fingers. You yelped, the combination perfect. “There we go,” he mused, “Right there, huh?,”

He did it again, curling both fingers as he planted his tongue firm against your clit. You whined, feeling the heat in your belly.

“Mm,” he licked his lips, “you’re soaking my fingers, you know that?” he grinned, “feels amazing.”

You panted at that, and the only reaction you could give was to push your hips down against them.

He chuckled at you, “Love you so much,” he breathed, “I’ll fuck you with my fingers, you don’t have to do that, angel,” he bit his lip, “or you just like doing that? Grinding down on my hand?”

You nodded, repeating the motion. He sighed heavily, and you could see under the duvet the small motion of him grinding against the bed again.

“What about my tongue?” He licked over you, keeping his lips near you, “wanna rock your hips against me?”

You whined as he pressed his tongue flat to you, a resounding yes going through your head at his question. You nodded, doing what he said, grinding your hips down, grabbing his head softly with your hand, rolling yourself against his wet tongue.

He moaned into it, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before coming open to lock with yours. You gasped at the feeling, at how willing he was being, how much he was getting off on this.

“You wanna come?” he breathed, breaking contact for only a second before returning his mouth to you. You whimpered and nodded, breathless, keeping the motion of your hips.

“Make yourself come, angel,” he breathed, flattening his tongue out for you, soft moans against you, his fingers helping you, rocking with a steady motion back into your grinding.

It didn’t take too much longer, especially with his eyes locked into yours, before you were there.

As conflicted as you were about losing eye contact with him, you let your back arch as the orgasm flushed you with heat, holding his head against you, feeling his drawn out moan.

As soon as it passed, he was planting small kisses to you, kitten-licking at your oversensitive center.

You composed yourself and propped back up on the pillows, looking down at him. He had the world’s most self-assured grin, and he looked sort of dazed, eyes glossy, struggling to focus.

“I don’t think there’s a thing I like more in this world than making you come,” he smiled.

“You sure?” you giggled. His fingers moved inside you still and you gasped, pushing against them.

“Yeah, they’re really fucking wet,” he groaned, acknowledging your gasp, “I love it.”

You panted, letting him work at you still.

“But yes, I’m sure,” he said, brushing hair from his face with his free hand before settling it back, arm hooked under your thigh, hand on your hip.

“More than the Les Paul?” you grinned. He nodded and hummed. Your jaw dropped.

“More than…liquor?”

He bit his lip and smiled.

“More than making yourself come?”

“Oh, yeah, easy,”

“More than music?“

He giggled, “Alright, a tie.”

You chuckled back, relaxing into the feeling of his fingers still slowly fucking you.

“How long you gonna do that for?” You murmured, wiggling your hips to help him understand your question.

“Mm,” he pondered, licking your thigh, “Wanna make you come again,”

Your breath hitched, and you watched his face.

“Might take a bit,” you smiled, “I’m kinda sleepy, remember?”

He nodded, “That’s okay,” he assured, “I’m having so much fun, angel,” he grinned.

“I can tell,” you smirked, petting his head, “How’s humping the bed going?”

He giggled, “Pretty good if I’m being honest,” He looked up at you, his expression suddenly changing, “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get you to have sex,” he said, “With the bed thing. I really just wanted to do this for you. I’m just hard and it feels good.”

You bit your lip at his gentle expression, “You’re heaven-sent,” you sighed, “really.”

He giggled and pushed his fingers all the way in, pushing against your hip bone with his hand, making you gasp, “Just for you,” he said.

“Love how wet you are on my hand, pretty girl,” he murmured, “Can’t wait to lick my fingers,”

You whined, unable to help it at the obscene gesture.

“My girl like that?” He murmured to your thigh, “I love how you taste, angel. Makes me think about how you came for me.”

You nodded, dumbfounded at the way he was speaking to you—sincere and something borne of his arousal and love all the same.

“You’re like my pretty peach,” he murmured, “wet and soft for me. Your cheeks are pink, just like a ripe peach,” he grinned, bowing his head down to lick over you again, “peaches and cream,” he murmured, making himself giggle, “Could eat you all day, all summer.”

You exhaled with a trembling breath at his sweet and sensual ranting.

“You like me talking to you?” he asked softly, “I have a lot to say about my pretty girl.”

You nodded, sleep threatening to take you after the tea and the orgasm.

“Pretty girl,” he purred, “so sleepy, just relax,” his fingers worked slowly, “Get all sleepy and let me make you come one more time,” he licked at you with some amount of determination, a warm flutter against your swollen clit, “You don’t have to do anything,” he breathed in between licks, “Just relax against me, I’ll make you come, angel, trust me,”

You could hear him but it was distant—you weren’t asleep, there’s no way you could be with this going on, but it tempted you, a soft cloud hanging above you that you let kiss your skin. There was a warm glow in your abdomen that Jake had summoned, and you let him coax it, stoke the fire.

His tongue dipped lower, meeting his fingers at your entrance. You whined softly, the feeling wet and lewd.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he murmured, likely to himself at this point, “God, I wanna see you come again,”

His fingers worked steadily, not too rough, but certainly with a rhythm that could send you over the edge.

“Okay, angel,” he breathed, “When you’re ready, let me have it, be sweet for me,” he lowered his mouth against you again and let his tongue create a sweet pace, tempting the heat in you to spill over.

You took deep breaths, doing just as he said and letting yourself relax—letting his fingers work in you, his tongue over you, his hand grip your hip tight to keep you in place.

You came gently, shockingly soon for a second orgasm, riding the perfect wave against his tongue. You sighed his name quietly, in a strangled gasp. He moaned into you at the sound.

Slowly, you came down, head spinning and more heavy with sleep than before.

You watched him with hooded eyes prop himself up just slightly, keeping his mouth on you, soft licks, and then pull his fingers out out of you, pushing that hand down under the covers, around himself, and with only a few jerks of his arm, he was moaning again in to you, sucking you softly, trying to take his own pleasure without overstimulating you.

“God,” you groaned at the sight, the sweat on his forehead, his selfless but fervent need.

He looked up at you, soft groans still coming from him as he pulled his mouth from you, coming down, “You like that, angel?” he grinned, “You turn me on so fucking much,” he huffed a breath out, “and I didn’t even need spit, you drenched my fucking hand.”

You whimpered, sleepy but amazed at what he was saying.

He hummed to himself, pleased, planing a final kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Let me clean us up, babe,” he laughed as he got up.

“I came in my fucking pants,” he shook his head and smiled in amusement, going to find a towel.

As he returned, you were fighting the persistent wave of sleep chasing you.

“Give it up, babe,” he grinned, wiping you off, “Go to sleep, angel. I’m just going to clean off and I’ll be right next to you.”

You nodded, murmuring the word, “kiss.”

He nodded and bent down, kissing you slow, his hand gentle on your face. He smiled softly as you started to succumb to your heavy eyelids.

You remember the weight of him sinking into the bed next to you, his chest pressing to your back as he held you, ready to drift off along side you.

“I love you,” he murmured into your ear, “love making you happy, angel. I hope you sleep well.”

You smiled, giving him a gentle hum and a slurred an i love you back, but he already knows. He always knows.

fin.

#gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #greta van smut #jake gvf #gvf smut #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fics

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

Text

Hunka Hunka Burnin Love

Character/Fandom: Austin Butler

Requested: yes - nonnies ♥️

Prompt: You were cast in the role of Dixie Locke, Elvis' girlfriend from Memphis, which means you've spent quite a bit of time with the star of the show, Austin. He can't seem to keep his hands off of you on the red carpet and others are starting to notice. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Aus is kinda rough in this ngl but i think that's all?

Rating: M, it's pwp let's be honest here || Word Count: 3986

A/N: it's been a hot min since i graced y'all with some smut, but i hope you enjoy this one cause i have like 3 more smuts queued for this week so BUCKLE UP BABES I HOPE U BROUGHT UR HORNY HATS

also let's play a game lolol i describe aus's outfit in this and i want y'all to send me pics of which outfit you think i'm describing lmao

🦋 mila

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You glance in the mirror one more time, fluffing up your hair with your fingers. You stick your lips out into a pout and peer into the glass before shaking your head with embarrassment. What are you doing? You shouldn’t be egging him on in public like this. It’s not professional.

Since being cast as Dixie Locke, one of Elvis’ ex-girlfriends, you’d been spending a lot of time together with Austin. Maybe a little too much time. It has been an honor playing the part and, although it seems small, you’ve filmed a large number of scenes with the leading man. As can be expected with a man as fine as Austin Butler, you found yourself catching feelings pretty quickly. Austin is just so handsome, sweet, and respectful. He’s irresistibly charming, practically magnetic. It’s only natural that you would fall in love with him.

Although you haven’t used the words “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” yet, you both know that your relationship is exclusive. Even though you’d made the decision together, you’d also agreed that it’s best to keep your relationship a secret until the press from the movie has died down.

As far as the public is concerned, you and Austin are friends. And you’re going to stay friends because that’s what is best for your relationship, both professionally and emotionally. Whether it was best for your sexual or mental well-being is a different question, but you push the thought out of your mind, turning around to check out your ass in the floor-length black gown. You heave a deep breath and exit the women’s bathroom. As soon as you step out, you hear your name being called by Olivia. You turn toward her with a smile, making your way over to where she’s standing. She holds out her hands and you take them with an excited squeeze.

“You look so incredibly hot!” Olivia says with a big grin. You pretend to pose for the camera, fluttering your eyelashes with a giggle.

“Thank you, but I’m nothing compared to you, queen!” you shout back, gesturing at her amazingly gorgeous white dress. She laughs and then twirls around with a curtsey.

“Holy shit…”

You whirl around at the sound of that familiar deep voice behind you. You know it’s Austin before you can even see him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you gaze over at him. He looks so incredibly handsome in a black suit with a subtle sparkle to it and a silky black scarf hanging loosely around his neck. Out of instinct, you bite your lip and smile at him as you catch his eyes tracing down your figure. You feel flustered, heat rising into your face and ears as Olivia starts a conversation with Austin about all of your outfits.

Soon, it’s time for you all to go out to the red carpet for pictures and interviews. You have been informed that most of your photos will be singular shots of you, but obviously a few will be taken with Austin since your characters are so close in the film. But for now, you’re about as far from him on the carpet as you possibly could be. You maneuver yourself onto your designated space on the carpet, propping a hand on your hip sassily. The dress was designed by Gucci and it hugs your body in all the right places. The black matching heels are extremely tall, elongating your legs in a way that makes them look impossibly tall and toned. You feel sexy, you have to admit. You glance to the right to flash a smile at some reporters shouting your name. Since you're looking the other way, it scares you when Austin’s hand expertly slides around the back of your waist.

“Hi gorgeous,” that low seductive voice of his practically moans into your ear. You flip around and smile up at him, unable to stop your eyes from darting down to his lusciously plump lips.

“Hi there,” you whisper back.

He is so beautiful and even more so when he’s staring down at you like that, with his eyes hungrily searching every centimeter of your body. You feel heat creeping back into your face again, so you avert eye contact and return to posing for the cameras. You let your hand momentarily rest on Austin’s chest, your fingers slyly pushing the half-buttoned fabric out of your way. His fingers curl around your waist and your hand on his chest, pulling you closer to him.

“You look so sexy, babe,” he says, bending his head down into your hair.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and your eyes go wide. He’s kissed your hand and your cheek in public before, but somehow this feels much more intimate. Much more dangerous. And he lingers for a moment, just a second too long.

“Thank you,” you reply, tossing your head back and away from him.

“You know, there's a place we could go for a while,” he says quietly into your ear.

Your surprise at his suggestion sparks a physical reaction as your ankle slips off the side of your heel. You teeter backward for a moment before Austin’s hand tightens around your waist to keep you from falling and completely embarrassing yourself.

“Jesus Christ, sorry,” you mutter and shrug with a nervous smile at the reporters who are erupting into a chorus of chuckles as they continue to flash their cameras.

“Weak in the knees for me, are ya?” Austin teases with a stupid smirk resting on his face. You choke out a chuckle and shake your head but his grip tightens around your waist. “It’d just be the two of us. We could…you know..."

You feel his fingers dropping lower on your back, starting to curve over the top of your ass. Your hand shoots back to bring his hand back up to your waist.

“Wouldn’t everyone notice?" you hiss. "I mean, you are the star. It’s not like you can just disappear for an hour without being missed.”

You push yourself out of his grasp and lean up to peck his cheek innocently. You’ve spent too much time together taking photos and are paranoid that the media will get suspicious.

“Just meet me in the back hallway by the bathrooms. I’ll take care of everything.”

He turns toward the cameras, smiling with a wave before moving on to a different section of the carpet to take photos with Helen, who plays Elvis’ mother Gladys. Your eyes can’t help but drift to his ass as he walks away, and you bite your lip as you think about grabbing onto it with all of your strength as he-

“Y/N here!” a photographer’s shrill yell interrupts your thoughts.

You finish up the last of the photos and then allow yourself to quietly sneak out of view. Playing a more minor character is about to work in your favor. It means that you can disappear for a while without anyone really noticing. But you would be absolutely mortified if any of the press catches you doing this.

Your heart races as you run along the quiet hallway, searching for the bathroom that you’d used earlier. You breathe a sigh of relief when you find it and press yourself against the cold brick wall outside of the door. The pull out your phone to check your messages. Tons from your friends, family and followers have wished you luck and sent lovely messages. But none are from Austin.

“You made it. Good.”

You glance up from your screen to see none other than your dirty little secret approaching you. He leans against the wall, positioning his hand near your head. You gulp nervously and crane your neck to peer up at him.

“What did you have in mind?” you tease, knowing full well what he has in mind, but refusing to believe that he would actually be so bold as to do it in public at an event for which he’s the main attraction.

He shrugs, quickly glancing around the hallway before leaning over you. His free hand travels up to cup your face, and he drags a finger down your cheekbone and onto your lips. As his fingertip slides down your skin, it latches onto your bottom lip, pulling it out and then releasing it. You giggle breathlessly, feeling your breathing speed up. His beautiful lips hang open, looking incredibly tasty and so suckable.

Your eyes trace his beautiful Cupid’s bow and you smirk up at him, sticking your neck even further out to reach his lips. You watch his jaw clench as he tilts his head, bringing his lips to brush against yours as you heave shaky breaths from your mouth. You reach out to grasp onto the collar of the black dress shirt, the silk feeling satisfying in your fingers. You try to yank him closer to you, but he resists. He brushes his lips against yours again and you inadvertently whimper, tightening your grip on his shirt. He pulls back, the air between you suddenly filled with a cold breeze. You huff out of frustration and flatten your lips into a hard line.

“Get in the bathroom,” he commands.

You huff again but gather the ends of your dress and enter the women’s bathroom. Once inside, you stand perfectly still, the potential consequences of this decision starting to hit you. The realization that you and Austin haven’t done anything more than make out is also beginning to settle in your gut. You don’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because when Austin bursts into the bathroom, his hands are on you immediately. He grasps the sides of your face and pulls your lips onto his. You reach up to grab his wrists, already feeling breathless.

He walks you back until your ass hits the wide marble-countered row of sinks. His hands slide down your neck, lingering around your throat for just a moment before releasing the pressure and trailing down your shoulders to rest on the outside of your thigh. He grasps your skin tightly through the dress and hoists your legs up and around his waist so that he can slide you back onto the counter. The combination of the smooth marble and the expensive silk of your dress propel your body backward, and you slam into the wall-length mirror mounted above the sinks. As your back makes contact with the glass, your lips break apart and you gasp.

Austin takes that opportunity to reach over with his long arms and slam the door to the bathroom shut before twisting the lock. You lean back against the mirror and you finally have a minute to take in the dripping sensation in your pussy. Austin returns to his position at the edge of the counter and relatches his fingers onto your thighs, pulling you into him. You groan at the contact of your throbbing heat to the hard length you can feel through his pants. You can tell by its firmness that he’s had this erection all night. You giggle at the thought of him trying to hide it.

He smirks, grabbing onto your jaw and smashing his lips against yours. His hand reaches underneath the dress to slide slowly up your thigh, pinching at the skin so hard that you wince into his lips.

You reach down to pull on his belt buckle, jerking him against you harder. You moan when he groans into the kiss. His lips slip off yours and turn to your neck, biting and sucking all over the skin below your jaw. One of your hands travels up his toned frame and into his hair, yanking hard on the golden curls. Austin moans into your neck, and you begin to buck your hips, begging for more contact. Austin pulls back and reaches further up your thigh, latching his fingers around the band to your panties before harshly moving the fabric to the side.

He gently runs a finger up your slick folds. You shudder underneath his touch and grip harder onto his hair. He smirks in response, biting your earlobe and pulling it with his teeth. The combination of his hot breath tickling the inside of your ear and the shot of pain on your lobe makes you throw your head back with a gasp. He runs another finger over your folds and then gently slides one inside. He places his thumb on your clit, circling it while he pumps his finger in and out of you. You wiggle onto his long, slender finger. It’s not enough, you need more.

“More,” you whisper through a breath, in between moans. “I need more.”

“Dirty girl,” he growls, moving straight into three fingers.

He wastes no time, either, slamming his fingers in and out of your folds faster than he was before. You begin to feel the pleasure swell in your stomach, and your hips move against his hands as he returns to assault your neck. He bites onto the skin and pulls it between his teeth. Your hand moves to grab Austin’s shoulder, pulling his hand deeper inside of your soaking wet pussy.

He hits the spot where you need him most, and your head falls back against the glass, projecting your moans into the room. Your free hand deftly unlatches his belt and pushes it out of the way before unbuttoning his pants and sliding into his underwear. You grab onto his length and run your fingers over the dripping tip, feeling the slimy precum leaking out of him. He growls as you begin to pump him.

You gasp for air when his fingers slide out of you and glare down at him. His hair is disheveled, the curls wildly twisting this way and that. He sticks his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the skin and pulling each finger out with a pop. You bite your lip, moaning quietly at the sight of him sucking your juices down.

“Get down, turn around, bend over,” he orders and you obey, sliding off the counter and turning around.

He approaches you, running his fingers down your sides and onto your ass. Then he crouches to run his fingers up your legs, toward the inside of your thighs and then up onto your ass. He pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. You shudder under his teasing touch, arching your back to push your ass closer to his hands. You giggle breathlessly as you feel his fingers curl around the waistband to your panties, pulling them down to your ankles. His fingers grip the inside of your thighs and spread your legs.

He runs a soft hand over your ass before spanking it with an open palm. Your body jolts forward and you suck in another breath of air. He leans forward, biting the skin of your ass, before moving to pull his pants down. You watch over your shoulder as his dick springs free and bite your lip at the size of it. He smirks and gives himself a few good pumps before walking toward you. His fingers slide against your folds again, pumping into you. You arch your back in response, letting your top half lean against the counter for support.

“So fucking wet, baby girl,” he hisses. “So fucking wet for me.”

You moan in response and arch your back even more to let him know that you want his dick inside of you now. He understands and immediately pushes into you with no complaints. You whimper, knowing that his full length is stretching out your walls. You wind your waist in a circle around him, gripping at the roots of your own hair to offset the pleasure. He hisses, slapping your ass hard before digging his fingers into the skin. It hurts, and you yelp in pleasure.

He begins to slam into you. Mercilessly. The sounds of moaning and skin hitting skin echo around the hollow room. As your noises bounce off the walls, you suddenly remember that you're in a public place. You feel Austin’s hands circle around to the front of your thighs, gripping onto the skin and pulling your legs against him so that he could fuck you deeper and harder. You scream out as his full length slides in and out of your wet folds with ease. With each thrust, your pussy grows more and more sensitive and the waves of pleasure build higher and higher. Mimicking these feelings, your moans rise higher and higher, sucking the breath out from your stomach and throat.

“Fuck baby you’re taking me so good,” Austin says with a groan.

You moan back in response, unable to speak as your body begins to shiver under his force. At this point, you are hardly moaning and making more of a high-pitched barking sound instead as you approach your peak. Your ass and thighs slam back against his legs with so much force, that you can feel your ribs knocking against the edge of the marble counter. You can already feel your legs burning and beginning to shake under the force of his thrusts. Your knees begin to buckle as you cum, and you grip onto the sides of the counter with white knuckles. You try to steady yourself as your body shakes uncontrollably, tears brimming in your eyes from the stimulation.

“Fuck, Aus…” you groan out as you come down from your orgasm.

You hear his pleasure-filled moans behind you as he pumps himself to completion. Your legs are vibrating with pleasure and you remain still out of fear that you won't ever walk again. Austin's breath is still hot against your skin. The room is full of your panting breaths. Your fingers are white with the pressure of holding so tightly onto the counter, trying to support your body weight. Austin releases you and pulls back to readjust himself and comb through his touseled, sweaty hair.

He smirks with a chuckle and reaches out to grab the end of your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He pinches it and runs his tongue over his teeth and lips before winking. His arms snake around your waist, gently turning you around and pulling you against him. His fingers tangle in your hair, scratching your scalp. You close your eyes at the comfort, humming softly.

“You should clean yourself up, baby girl. I’ll give you a few minutes and then see you out there,” he says in between pants.

He presses his hot, sweaty cheek against yours for a moment and then kisses the outside of your ear before leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You manage to hold yourself up long enough for the door to shut behind Austin, but the moment he vanishes, you feel your shaking muscles give out and you lower yourself down as gently as you can onto the ground in the bathroom. The cold, hard tiles feel good against the hot, swollen skin of your thighs. You lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes, trying to get your breath back to normal. After a few moments of rest, you reach down to pull your panties back up, wincing as you lift your hips and legs to pull the fabric over your ass cheeks.

You grab onto the wall, dragging yourself to stand. As soon as you put pressure on your legs, you groan. Your knees start to buckle and you lower yourself down again. You take a few more deep breaths and try again, working through the soreness this time, although you have to lean heavily on the wall for support. If anyone were to walk into the bathroom at this moment, they probably would ask if you needed an ambulance.

You look like a baby giraffe just learning how to walk, with your knees pointed inward and legs spread out. You gently try to bring your legs together, feeling them shake violently with the pressure of your body weight. Whimpers fly through your mouth as the sore lips of your pussy touch. You waddle over to the sinks, bent at the waist and too afraid to stand up quite yet.

You glance at yourself in the mirror and audibly gasp. Your hair is completely ruined. It looks more like a bird’s nest than a sexy messy updo. Your red lipstick is smudged over the edge of your lips and even down your jaw, onto your neck. You lean forward to touch your lips, immediately clocking how swollen and red they are from the relentless attack of Austin’s teeth and lips sucking and biting the skin.

You reach over the counter to grab at your purse. Thank god Christine, your stylist, has given you access to the lipstick you are wearing tonight. And thank god you always carry a small comb in your bag. You start with the lipstick first, using a damp paper towel to erase as many of the smudged red marks as you can. You also dab at some of the black eyeliner which has turned your undereye into a raccoon's. As carefully and best you can, you reapply the lipstick and brush your eyelashes back into place with your fingertips. Finally, you unclip the ties and bobby pins from your hair to rake the comb through your locks. You’ll never be able to recreate the masterpiece that Christine had, so you use some water to slick your hair back into a ponytail. You're sure that people will wonder why and how your hairstyle miraculously changed halfway through the evening, but you could always pull the “it was hurting my head” routine.

You readjust your dress the best you can, pulling it into place and spinning around to make sure you don’t have any noticeable stains. Glancing once more at yourself in the mirror, you shrug and exit. It’s not gonna get much better than this with the materials you have at your disposal.

You exit out the back door of the building and into the crowded press area to join your castmates. It takes everything in you not to wince as you walk, each step aggravating the soreness in your thighs and crotch. You smile at Olivia as you sidle up next to her and, out of the corner of your eye, you watch as she does a double take.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” she asks, leaning over to whisper into your ear. You nod.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just that you were sort of limping as you walked over here,” she replies with a shrug.

Oh yeah…you know it was leg day yesterday and I’m just feeling extra sore. Plus, the heels don��t help.”

You laugh nervously as Olivia’s eyebrow quirks. She sizes you up momentarily before straightening her head to pose for a cast photo. While your concentration is pulled to the side, focused on Baz relaying a story to the press, you feel a familiar warm hand slide around your waist. Austin has joined you.

You immediately feel heat rising into your ears just thinking about what you’ve done. You sheepishly glance over at him. He smirks and winks ever so slightly at you, and you can’t stop the coquettish giggle that escapes your lips.

“You sly bitches,” Olivia whispers. “I knew it wasn’t leg day yesterday.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyes wide with horror. You feel Austin’s grip around your waist tense.

“You two seriously have no idea how fucked out you look, do you? Oh don't worry, I won't say anything. But I did have a sneaking suspicion that you were together,” Olivia laughs. She tilts her head to address Austin. “Fucked her that good, did you Austin?”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hide from your own embarrassment as Austin’s face heats up into a bright lobster red.

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