YO I’m the free use anon)?) if I did set it to anon anyways. Just wanted to add on to my previous ask because it automatically got sent.
Your writing has me hooked and I thought it’d be cool to send you an ask. If you decide to do it, let loose and do whatever you want with it!
enter— your pretty house husband !!
status: edited + proofread
synopsis: your friends come over for a game night, and you can’t help but want to show him off.
word count: 3k
cw: porn with no plot, AMAB reader, FTM char (AFAB terminology used), established relationship, dom! reader, top!reader, sub!char, bottom!char, free use, exhibitionism, voyeurism, pussy slapping, fingering, praise kink, possessiveness.
note: thank you so much for the request! i hope it met your expectations! 🫶
the living room buzzes with laughter and the clatter of dice as your friends settle in, but your attention keeps drifting to him.
he—your beautiful, obedient boy, your pretty house husband, the perfect display of submission and want—moves through the kitchen with practiced ease: refilling glasses, offering snacks, wiping crumbs from the counter with a gentle, almost absentminded grace that makes your chest tighten and your cock throb.
he’s meticulous, always making sure every glass is full, every snack perfectly arranged, every detail attended to just the way you love. the house sparkles under his care—pillows fluffed, candles lit, the faint scent of his favorite cookies wafting from the kitchen. he anticipates your needs, bringing you your favorite drink before you even ask, checking that you’re comfortable, giving you that sweet, adoring smile that says he lives to please you.
the curve of his ass as he bends over the table is a private invitation, a promise, making you shift in your seat and clench your fists to keep from dragging him into your lap right there.
every time he moves it’s for you, whether he knows it or not—every flick of his wrist, every dimpled smile, every time the hem of his shorts rides up, showing off the soft swell of his thighs and the barest hint of his pussy beneath the fabric.
he tucks stray hair behind his ear, cheeks pink, and his eyes dart to you—always checking, making sure you want for nothing, and always craving your attention.
you do notice—every detail, every shiver, every unconscious arch of his back that presses his ass out for you to admire.
his shirt clings to him just right, outlining the curve of his waist and the soft skin you want to mark up all over again, and you don’t miss how the fabric of his shorts hugs the fullness of his thighs, the hint of wetness darkening the inseam.
he’s so soft, so pretty, and when he fusses over napkins or straightens a stack of games, you know he’s doing it for your praise.
"do you need anything else, love?" he asks quietly, voice gentle and eager as he leans closer. the question is for you, but his eyes flick to your friends, as if hoping they, too, will notice just how attentive he is.
you grin, letting your hand brush his hip. "you're perfect, baby. keep showing off for me."
he blushes deeper, ducking his head as he returns to his tasks, a little smile tugging at his lips.
when he presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips linger a second too long, and his fingers skim your waist as if asking you to claim him. sometimes he leans in so close you catch the faint sweetness of his skin, the unique scent of him and his soap of choice, and you wonder if your friends can see the flush on his cheeks, the evidence of your teeth on his neck just visible where his collar falls open.
later, as he passes you another drink, one of your friends jokes, "careful, he'll spoil you. wish mine took care of me like that."
you smirk, pulling him gently into your lap for a second. "maybe you should take notes."
he laughs, barely above a whisper, "i like taking care of you."
every time he glances at you, it’s a plea to be seen, to be shown off—your boy, your house husband, your needy little thing.
you adore how he blushes under your gaze, how he soaks up your praise, desperate to be recognized as yours, his ears burning pink when the others tease him about being the perfect host.
you want everyone to see how lucky you are, how much you crave him, how you’d bend him over the kitchen table or the back of the couch at any opportunity—spread him open, mouth on his pussy, tongue buried deep until he’s shaking, sobbing, begging, just to remind him—and everyone else—who he belongs to.
he’s yours. he wants the world to know it, and you’ll never tire of letting him put himself on display.
your friends sometimes complain, half-joking and half-envious, about the way you and he disappear together at gatherings or the not-so-innocent marks he tries to hide the next day.
they tease you for being insatiable, for how you can’t seem to keep your hands off him even when company’s over, for the way you look at him like you’re always moments from dragging him away.
sometimes you catch them rolling their eyes or making snide comments about your lack of self-restraint, but you only feel a surge of pride—why should you hide your desire, your luck, the way he’s yours in every way?
what a useless thing to do.
you want them to see, to know just how thoroughly you adore him, how much he craves your attention and how gladly he gives himself to you.
there’s a part of you that wants to show off, to let everyone witness the way he melts for you, the way you can make him blush and squirm with just a look or a whispered word.
their complaints only make you bolder, eager to prove that what you have with him is something worth envying, worth flaunting, a love and hunger so intense it can’t—and shouldn’t—be hidden.
you want them to imagine what it’s like when you pull him onto your lap and make him ride you, slow and deep, until he’s shaking and sobbing into your shoulder—how his pussy clenches around you, greedy for every inch, how you hold him open and watch him drip all over your cock, gasping as you fuck him through wave after wave of needy pleasure.
you want them to know how he begs for you to fill him up, how he whimpers for your tongue, your fingers, desperate for the stretch and the praise, all the filthy words that make him come undone.
you want them to imagine the nights where you bend him over the kitchen counter or pin him against the wall and fuck him hard without so much as a word, where his cries echo through the house, and you make sure every mark you leave is one he’ll wear with pride the next day.
you want your friends to see, to really understand, how you own him—how he’s yours to tease, yours to ruin, yours to show off however you please. he’s the perfect display, your favorite prize, and you’d let the world watch if it meant they’d know just how beautiful, how desperate, how absolutely wrecked he is for you every single night.
and you notice it—the way your friends shift in their seats, the way their eyes linger, the flush on their cheeks or the subtle bulge in their pants betraying just how much watching turns them on.
sometimes you catch them glancing away, embarrassed to be caught, but you know they’re imagining what it would be like to have him, to see him come undone for them the way he does for you.
their hands sometimes drift to their laps, knuckles pale as they try to discreetly adjust themselves, biting back groans. they're not sneaky with it at all. the gall, really.
you see the hunger in their eyes, the way their lips part, breaths shallow, as they witness the two of you together.
tonight, you can’t help yourself. you'd indulge it.
when the conversation grows loud and everyone is focused on the board, the urge becomes too strong to resist.
you slide your hand around his waist, fingers curling possessively against his soft skin, and tug him gently further into your lap, right there in front of your friends.
at first, he freezes—shocked, flustered, his breath catching as he processes the sudden intimacy.
you steady him with a firm hand on his hip, guiding him to straddle you.
his cheeks burn as your friends notice and laugh, egging you on with teasing whistles and catcalls, their playful jeers mixing with the nervous energy between you.
"damn, get a room!" someone jeers, but you just smirk and hold him tighter.
"nah, i like it here," you say, voice low but clear. "want everyone to see how pretty he is for me."
your hands wander boldly, squeezing his bare thighs as his shorts ride up, the muscles beneath your fingers tensing with each touch.
you press kisses to his neck, lips skimming over flushed skin, and you savor the faint, shivery whimper he lets out.
from where he straddles you, knees bracketing your hips, his back arches, chest rising and falling with fast, shallow breaths.
your friends can’t help but stare; his shirt has ridden up, exposing the soft curve of his waist, the marks you’ve left behind from earlier.
you shift him so he’s facing the room, to his surprise, straddling your lap with his back pressed tight to your chest, every inch of him on display for your friends.
you push his legs wide, planting your hands firmly on his inner thighs, keeping him open.
his shorts barely cover anything now, riding up so high that the soft skin of his inner thighs is completely exposed, and you let your friends catch every trembling breath, every flush across his cheeks.
"what're you doing?" he whines.
you whisper in his ear, low and teasing, letting everyone else hear: "let them look, baby. you're perfect like this."
with a slow, deliberate motion, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and pull them down over his hips, letting them slide to mid-thigh.
the room falls silent as you expose him—soft, pretty, dripping for you—his thighs spread wide and nothing left to hide.
the flush on his face deepens, lips parted as he sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting between your friends and your hand.
for a moment, you pause, letting the anticipation build, then you take his hand and guide it between his own thighs, urging him to spread himself open for the audience.
far from shrinking away in shame, instead, with trembling fingers, he obeys, like you knew he would, pulling himself wide, revealing his slick, needy entrance to everyone watching, his breath coming in fast, shuddering gasps as he shows off the most intimate part of himself.
the soft pink folds part easily under his fingers, glistening with arousal, the delicate rim fluttering each time he breathes or you whisper in his ear.
his entrance is flushed and swollen, slick with need, the inner walls pulsing and glossy in the light—so wet you can see the sheen of it catching on his knuckles.
it’s a beautiful, obscene sight: the way his hole clenches and relaxes, shiny and inviting, on full display for everyone in the room.
you keep a possessive arm wrapped around his waist, whispering filthy encouragement into his ear while your other hand joins his, rolling your thumb over the sensitive, wet seam and angling his hips so the room has a perfect view of how ready he is for you.
letting your friends witness every detail, you murmur, "show them how much you love this, baby. let them see you inside."
each time he spreads himself wider, exposing the flutter of his entrance and the shine of arousal, your pride grows.
every breath he takes is visible, chest fluttering, his body straining to stay still despite the attention.
your friends watch, rapt and silent, as you make a show of it—of how easily he gives in to you, how much he trusts you.
"look at him," you murmur to the room. “all mine. just for me to play with."
your fingers trace over the slickness between his legs, and you feel his whole body shiver in your arms.
nothing to hide—your pretty house husband, shuddering as you let your palm cup his heat, thumb circling, pressing just enough to make him choke on a gasp. it was this strange feeling that everyone was looking at him, which was uncomfortable.
perhaps because there were so many people whose attention were only on him. it rivaled nothing else. even deep breaths didn't clear his clogged chest, so he tried taking a big breath to expand his lungs. but there was still a sticky feeling as if his alveoli weren't fully expanding.
nothing comes out.
his head falls back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering, mouth open as you whisper, "that's it, let them see how perfect you are for me."
you can feel how wet he is for you, slick and needy, and you let your fingers slip lower, teasing at his entrance with slow, deliberate strokes.
the anticipation makes him tremble, thighs quivering as you slide one finger inside.
his walls flutter around you, every pulse a silent plea for more, and you relish the hungry, jealous looks you draw from the crowd.
he clings to your arm, hips rolling up to meet your hand, desperate for more, his breath coming in short, whimpering gasps, head dropping back against your shoulder as he surrenders to your touch.
you add a second finger, slowly stretching him open, feeling his body tense and then yield, the lewd, wet sound of your fingers working him echoing through the charged silence.
his rim clenches, fluttering at the intrusion, as you curl your fingers just right, searching for that sensitive spot inside.
your thumb circles his clit with teasing, featherlight strokes, coaxing out shivers and broken cries, his voice growing hoarse with need.
your onlookers watch, transfixed, as you work him open for everyone to see—the way his thighs quake, the way his body arches, the way he bites his lip to keep from begging aloud. unable to look away from the way he squirms and gasps, from the lewd, sounds filling the room, from the way you stretch him wide and make him beg, knowing they’re hard and aching just from watching.
you take pride in how you can make your crowd of friends so desperate, so jealous, so turned on they can barely sit still, all because he’s yours to ruin and flaunt. too bad for them.
the air is thick with the scent of his arousal, and you take pride in just how much he responds to you, even with watching eyes.
when you find it, his thighs shake, hips bucking uncontrollably as you press down just right, forcing a helpless cry from his lips, nails digging into your arm as you thrust into him, slow and deep, showing everyone the way he falls apart for you.
you can feel him squeezing around your fingers, his body fluttering as you keep up the relentless rhythm—fingers scissoring, stretching him wider, making it impossible for him to hide just how much he loves being filled and put on display.
wet, squelching sounds fill the room, obscene and shameless as you piston your fingers in and out, your palm pressed tight against his mound, grinding against his swollen clit. his attempt to steady his breathing was futile. scraping the inner walls recklessly and thrusting rapidly into the unsuspecting mucosa of his insides, had made him practically forget when to breathe.
then, cruelly, you pull your hand back just enough to let it hover over his pussy, letting the suspense build as he trembles in your lap.
you bring it down with a sharp, deliberate slap, the sound a wet crack that echoes through the room.
the sting makes him gasp, his whole body jolting—hips bucking, thighs quaking, his pussy clenching and gushing fresh slick as the sensation ripples through every nerve.
he whimpers, legs spreading wider without even thinking, as you rub your hand over the reddening skin, feeling the heat and the way he pulses against your palm.
you slap him again, harder this time, and watch as his pussy grows even slicker, the tender flesh flushed deep pink, glistening with arousal and shining in the light.
each smack sends fresh waves of pleasure and humiliation through his trembling body—he arches, moans, his entrance fluttering and leaking, coating your fingers as you tease him between slaps.
his abs tense, back arching, eyes squeezed shut as he rides out the sting and the praise, his body begging for more even as he squirms in your lap.
your friends watch, transfixed and silent, as you alternate between spanking and fondling, showing off how easily he melts for you, how much he loves the attention, the roughness, the ache.
his whimpers turn shameless, louder, as you murmur filthy praise in his ear and slap him again, letting everyone see the way he gushes for you—slick streaming out, his thighs shaking, desperate and needy, lost in the sensation.
the next slap lands perfectly, and this time his whole body jerks—his pussy tightening and fluttering around your fingers before he suddenly goes still, every muscle tensed.
the impact resonated and there’s a split second of breathlessness, before he lets out a broken moan as he gushes hard against you, his milky cum burst forth from him, release soaking your hand, the evidence of his pleasure on full display for everyone to see.
you hold him tight, whispering encouragement as he trembles and rides out the aftershocks, completely undone by the sting and the praise, lost in the bliss of being shown off and claimed so openly.
one of your friends finally breaks the tension, voice low and admiring: "god, he's really well trained, isn't he?"
another pipes up, laughing gently, "you've got him so obedient—look at how he just takes it, all pretty and eager."
someone else whistles, adding, "wish mine listened like that. he's perfect for you."
don’t you know it well.
their compliments wash over both of you, fueling your pride and making your house husband squirm in your lap, his face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.
you catch his eye and grin, letting him bask in the praise. you should do this more often.
౨ৎ how to cum: 101! (an unnecessary course) w/ 𝓪𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝓪𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭 (mdni!)
【 armin arlert is an absolute loser. everyone knows that. his friends know it, you know it—hell, even he knows it. he always has his back hunched over some book on marine biology. he avoids eye contact like the plague. he’s just… there.
you, on the other hand, are a fucking goddess. everyone on campus knows of your existence, of your flawless beauty, of your consistently breathtaking appearance.
armin isn’t stupid (he’s actually quite far from reaching idiocy, by the way). he knows that you’re about forty leagues away. he knows that you’re the most sought after person in this university. he understands that, but awareness doesn’t automatically equal enlightenment.
and so, with a little bit of courage, he starts to make himself known to you.
it’s simple at first, a small smile when you enter the few classes you two share. then he moves onto tiny waves once you start acknowledging him. barely noticeable, but you notice. it stayed like that for about a week. simple, small, easy, not-very-intimidating gestures. and you played along. you would return the smiles, wave back, whatever.
until you decided to approach him. it was at the end of some unimportant (even though it’s probably incredibly relevant) class. you didn’t bother listening to a single word your professor spoke. you had your eyes set on him.
having already made a plan in your head, you walked over, hips swaying just enough to seem like you weren’t actively trying to seduce him.
“hi! you’re armin, right?” you asked, voice dripping with honey. when he looked up, you could tell exactly when his breath hitched. your smile grew, already feeling the warmth of success in your veins. “i was just wondering if i could get your number?”
the second you said wondering, he was already preparing for either a humiliation ritual or heaven. but once you said number, as in phone number, as in you wanted to talk to him? his eyes widened, mouth slightly agape as he processed your words. you, yes you, wanted to…
“i… uhm, yeah, i can type it in or something…” armin mentally cursed himself for sounding so unenthusiastic—and more than that, nervous—but when you seemed to grow even happier, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. as you fished your phone out of your purse, he kept wondering when you noticed him.
“i’ve seen you in the library. you’re always wandering over to the philosophy section. you really like those greek guys, huh?” you giggled, seeing the tips of his ears turn pink. did he really just say that out loud? you didn’t let the embarrassment get to him, holding out your phone for him to take.
the rest of that encounter was a blur, all he can remember is your shining lip gloss and strawberry scent. he vaguely recalls you calling out something about texting him later. but none of that really matters. all that matters is the fact that he actually did it.
he got you, the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, to notice him. and more than that, he didn’t even have to try that hard. it was almost like you were the one plotting on him!
when you said later, armin automatically assumed you meant whenever you remembered him. he still saw himself as an afterthought, even though your kind voice still echoed in his memory. but apparently, later actually meant 4 p.m.
[name]: hiiii armin!!
you: hi [name]! it’s good to hear from you :)
[name]: omg yay i wasn’t expecting you to text back so fast :O
[name]: alsooo do you think you can help me w something sometime this week? i just can’t figure it out on my own and i figured i should ask the smartest person i know
you: oh yeah, of course! whenever you have time, i’ll probably be available!
at the time, armin was entirely oblivious to whatever the something was. he assumed it would be a math assignment, or maybe something to do with the poetry class he knew you were in from jean.
out of all things it possibly could’ve been, he expected virtually everything besides this.
“you… what?” armin swallowed the lump in his throat. he was sitting cross legged on your bed, watching you with a nervous gaze.
“yeah!” you replied, all too cheerfully. “i just figured since you’re so smart, you could help me! plus, aren’t you pretty good at anatomy?”
the words coming out of your mouth weren’t inherently sinister. but your tone, paired with your earlier statement, made the situation so sultry. “you don’t have to, though. i can probably find something online, or maybe i could ask jean—”
“i’ll do it!” he blurted out. he could feel his face flush red with your eyes locked on him, even though he was staring at your hello kitty blanket under him. “i’ll try my best to… help you cum.”
that’s how armin ended up under you as you bounced on his cock. there were little opportunities to doubt himself as you essentially pounced on him. you could tell he wouldn’t be small, but you definitely didn’t expect him to be packing.
“holy shit,” you had gasped. “you’re fucking huge.”
if he was starting to feel confident before, he felt more sure than ever now. he watched your tits bounce, directly in front of his face, yet he was still scared to touch. immediately after he started thinking about reaching out, as if you could read his mind, you grabbed one of his hands off your waist and placed it to cup your boob. he whimpered at the warmth of your chest, glasses fogging up.
“f-feels s’good,” armin whined. he was starting to gain confidence in his actions, leaning up slightly to wrap his lips around your nipple.
you moaned, borderline pornographically, at the sudden wetness of his mouth against your skin. he took that as encouragement, sucking and drooling all over you. you barely noticed it when your hips started to stutter, but armin did.
“are you close?” he asked, whimpers starting to catch in his throat. when you nodded, he whispered something you almost didn’t catch.
“am i being a good boy?”
he didn’t think you possibly could’ve heard it (especially not over how vocal the both of you were being), but your response almost made him cum by itself. “yes! fuuuck, being such a good boy for me!”
his whimpers increased tenfold. when your hips rolled too good, he moaned, particularly loud and desperate.
“‘m so close! please, i need to cum!”
“not yet—ah!—wait,” it was almost impossible to understand you but he got the message.
armin was trying. he really was. but his patience was growing thinner by the second. without thinking, he thrusted up. he needed to make you cum—needed to make you feel as good as you made him feel. it seemed to be working, as your mindless babbling became more incomprehensible.
“g-gonna cum,” you warned, but all he heard was permission to finally let go. both of your orgasms came crashing down, white hot pleasure blurring your vision as you collapsed onto armin’s chest.
you were still worked up, but hearing his heartbeat helped to cool you down. you heard a small laugh bubbling up, looking up.
“you didn’t need my help to cum, huh?”
“nope. i just really, really, wanted to fuck you.” 】
𝓭𝐚𝐰𝐧'𝐬 notes !
DEBUT POSTTT yay ^_^ (there’s so much more to come btw) (already working on art major jean shenanigans…) (nerdmin will be elaborated on!!!)
my first time posting on tumblr and i’m acting like it’s my first day of kindergartenHaha
trying my very best to not continue rereading this bc i hate it more and more every time </33
fucking the insecurities out of commander!armin arlert ╱ mdni, pegging ˚.✦
You know your boyfriend, almost three years together was enough time to know his mannerisms and different face expressions. You know when he's holding too many things together and when he needs to vent and relax. Specially, you know when his own mind is twisting his image of himself, his thoughts make him less that he is.
"Baby," you call him, wrapping your arms around his waist while he was washing his face in the sink.
"Yes, my love?" he answers immediately, taking the towel and drying his face with it.
You turn him in your embrace, now your hands resting in each sides of his waist.
"Tell me what's going on," you inquire, arching your eyebrows in the softest way possible.
"Mm? I'm just washing my face."
Armin tries, he really does, but with just a look from you, his whole facade slips. He's been sleeping less, stressing over strategies and crying in the empty hall before appearing in your shared room.
You don’t push right away. You just hold his gaze until the mask cracks completely.
His lower lip trembles once, twice. Then his eyes, those devastating blue eyes, fill so fast the tears spill before he can blink them back.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice already fracturing. “I didn’t want to bring this home again, I swear, I just—I can’t—” The words trip over each other, jagged and wet. “They’re right. They’re right and I hate that they’re right. I hear it all the time, even when no one’s saying it out loud anymore. ‘He’s too soft.’ ‘He hesitates.’ ‘He’s going to get us all killed one day because he can’t make the call.’ I count the faces every night, every single one I might lose because I wasn’t fast enough, or ruthless enough, or... or good enough.”
His breathing hitches hard. He tries to pull away like he’s ashamed to be seen like this, but you don’t let him. You slide your hands up to cradle his jaw instead, thumbs brushing the wet streaks under his eyes.
“Armin, my love,” you say quietly, firm. “Look at me.”
He does, but it costs him. His whole body is shaking now.
“You’re not failing them,” you tell him. “You’re carrying more than any of them ever will. And you still choose mercy when you could choose cruelty. You still find the path that saves the most lives even when everyone else is screaming for blood. That isn’t weakness. That’s rarer than courage. That’s why they follow you, even when they’re too proud or too scared to admit it.”
He shakes his head, small and helpless. Fresh tears slide down. “I don’t feel rare. I feel… small.”
You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, then the salt track on his cheek, then the trembling line of his lashes.
“Then let me remind you how big you are to me,” you murmur against his skin. “C'mere.”
You guide him backward out of the bathroom until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He sits automatically, hands gripping your hips like you’re the only solid thing left in the world.
You sink down to straddle his lap, close enough that he can feel your warmth, your heartbeat. Your fingers find the top button of his shirt.
“Every time someone doubts you,” you say softly, slipping the first button free, “they’re seeing a version of you that only exists in their fear. Not the real one.” Second button. The collar parts. You drag your fingertips down the newly bared skin, watching goosebumps chase your touch. “The real one is the man who mapped half the continent in his head so no one had to die blind. The one who talked Eren down when no one else could. The one who still apologizes to horses when he startles them.”
A broken little laugh escapes him. “That’s... ridiculous.”
“Is it?” You lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat while your hands slide the shirt off his shoulders, letting it pool behind him. “I think it’s beautiful.” Palms flat against his chest now, you feel the wild thud of his heart. “And this heart? This one right here? It’s never once chosen the easy path. That’s why it hurts so much. Because you care so fucking much.”
He closes his eyes, head tipping back. A tear slips into his hairline.
You kiss it away, then his collarbone, then lower, following the center line of his body with your mouth while your hands work his belt open. Slow and worshipful.
When his trousers are finally gone and he’s bare beneath you, flushed and trembling, you sit back just enough to look at him.
“Oh, Armin,” you breathe, genuine awe in it. “Look how gorgeous you are when you let yourself be seen.”
His breath catches. He tries to hide his face in the pillow but you catch his wrists gently, bring his hands to your waist instead.
“No hiding,” you whisper. “Not tonight.”
You reach for the nightstand drawer, pull out the harness and the strap you both like best (the one that makes his eyes flutter shut the second it presses inside him) and the little bottle of oil. You let him watch you slick it, slow strokes of your hand that make his thighs tense and his lips part on a shaky exhale.
When you finally settle between his legs again, you drizzle more oil over your fingers first. You circle his entrance with one, patient and praising the entire time.
“So good for me already,” you murmur, watching the way his body opens for you, soft and trusting. “Letting me in like this. Letting me take care of you. That’s strength, baby. That’s trust. And I’m so fucking proud of you for it.”
"S-stop," Armin whines, evading your eyes.
"Mmh? You want me to stop what? Praising you? Or fucking you?" you ask gently, your free hand stroking his cheek tenderly.
"Prai-praising me... it makes me ah!" His whole body jolts when you add a second finger. "Darling, please! I-I'll cum fast."
"None of that."
He keens when you slide inside, giving him time to adjust, time to feel every inch. You don’t thrust yet. You just stay buried, hips flush to his, and lean down until your forehead rests against his.
“You’re brilliant,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re brave. You’re kind. You’re mine.” A shallow roll of your hips, just enough to make him gasp. “And none of those whispering voices get to rewrite that. Not tonight. Not ever.”
You start moving then. Long, steady strokes that drag against every place that makes his breath hitch and his fingers dig into your shoulders.
“Say it,” you coax, lips brushing his ear. “Tell me who you are.”
His voice is wrecked, barely audible. “Yours…”
“What else?”
A sob catches in his throat. “Good… I’m good—”
You reward him with a deeper thrust, grinding in a slow circle that makes his back arch off the bed.
“And?”
“And worthy!” he gasps, louder this time, tears still falling but voice steadier. “I’m—I’m a good commander. A-and I'm nghh loved.”
You kiss him hard, swallowing the rest and fuck him through the shaking, through the crying, through every ugly doubt he’s been carrying alone until all that’s left is the sound of your name on his lips and the way his body clenches around you like you’re the only truth he still believes.
When he finally comes it’s with a broken, grateful cry. Whole body shuddering, arms locked around you like he’ll never let go.
You stay inside him after, rocking gently, kissing the damp hair off his forehead while his breathing slows.
“You’re allowed to fall apart,” you murmur into his temple. “As long as you let me hold the pieces.”
He nods against your throat, small and exhausted and finally quiet.
you and levi ackerman sneakily share a blunt without expecting commander erwin to find out. ╱ smut, dom!erwin ˚.✦
The storage room behind the mess hall smells like old grain sacks and polished leather, the kind of place no one comes to unless they’re hiding something. A single lantern hangs from a low beam, throwing long shadows across the crates and barrels. You’ve wedged the door mostly shut, just enough of a crack to hear boots on the corridor stone if someone approaches.
Levi stands with his arms crossed, posture rigid even though the tension in his shoulders is starting to betray him. His eyes flick between you and the fat joint you’re holding between two fingers like it’s a live grenade.
“This is fucking idiotic,” he says, voice just above a whisper. “If Erwin walks in here we’re both done. You know that, right?.”
You lean back against a stack of flour sacks, taking your time lighting the end with a match you stole from Hange’s. The paper crackles. You pull the first hit slow, let the smoke coil in your lungs, then exhale through your nose in a thin stream.
“He’s not going to walk in here,” you say. “He’s still in the war room arguing supply routes with Nile. We’ve got at least forty minutes. Maybe an hour.”
Levi’s jaw flexes. “You’re gambling my career on forty minutes.”
“I’m not gambling anything.” You hold the joint out to him, ember glowing cherry-red in the dim light. “I’m offering you thirty seconds of not feeling like the entire fucking wall is sitting on your chest. You’ve been grinding your teeth so hard I can hear it from across the mess hall.”
He doesn’t move. Just stares at the offered joint like it personally insulted his mother.
“You think getting high is going to fix the fact that we’re one bad expedition away from extinction?” he asks.
“No. I think it might stop you from snapping your own spine in half from how tight you keep yourself wound.” You take another pull, deeper this time, hold it, then step closer. Close enough that he has to tilt his head slightly to keep eye contact. “You trust me with your life every time we go outside the walls. Trust me with this.”
Something flickers behind his eyes, exhaustion, mostly.
He exhales through his nose, sharp. “If I do this and Erwin finds out, I’m telling him it was your idea.”
“Of course.”
He uncrosses his arms. Takes the joint from your fingers like he’s handling evidence. Studies it for a long second, then brings it to his lips. The first inhale is cautious, almost clinical. He holds it like he’s waiting for the world to end, then lets it out in a measured stream. His eyelids flutter half-closed for just a heartbeat.
“See?” you murmur. “Not so bad.”
“Shut up.”
You grin, taking his hand so he sits by your side. Take the joint back. This time when you hit it you don’t exhale right away. Instead you turn fully to him, slide your free hand to the back of his neck, thumb brushing the short hairs at his nape. He goes still.
You lean in until your mouths are barely an inch apart.
“Open,” you say quietly.
His eyes narrow, but his lips part anyway.
You shotgun the smoke into his mouth. Warmth, herb, faint char. His throat works as he pulls it in. You feel the soft sound he makes against your lips more than hear it.
When you pull back just enough to breathe, his pupils are already blown wide.
“Again,” he says.
You do it again. Deeper this time. Your mouths brush while the smoke slides between you. His hand comes up, fingers curling into the front of your shirt, anchoring you closer to him. You pass the joint back and forth like that, mouths meeting longer each time, until the line between shotgunning and kissing blurs out of existence.
The next time you exhale into him he chases it, tongue sliding against yours, tasting smoke and salt and want. You groan low in your throat. He answers it with grabbing your waist and putting you on his lap, your legs straddling his hips.
The joint is burning low now. You pinch it out against the side of a crate without looking, then both hands are in his hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head the way you want it. He lets you. Opens for you. Lets you lick into his mouth like you’ve been starving for it.
His hands slide under your jacket, palms flat and hot against your ribs. You press him to you, bodies slotting together in a way that makes every nerve ending sit up and pay attention.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “This is still a terrible idea.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, kissing along his jaw, feeling the way his pulse kicks under your tongue. “Worst idea I’ve ever had.”
He huffs something that might be a laugh, then drags you back to his mouth, harder this time. Teeth. Tongue. The faint residual burn of weed and the taste of him underneath it.
Neither of you hears the door.
Not until it swings open all the way and lantern light from the corridor spills in like cold water.
Erwin stands there, arms folded, expression unreadable in the way only he can manage. His silhouette fills the doorway. Blue eyes move slowly from you, to Levi, to the faint haze of smoke still hanging in the air, to the way Levi’s fingers are still twisted in your shirt and your legs cage him.
Silence stretches. Long enough that your stomach drops.
Then Erwin steps inside and closes the door behind him with a soft click.
“Well,” he says, voice calm, almost amused. “This explains why the two of you have been conspicuously absent for the last twenty minutes.”
Levi goes rigid against you. His hands drop like he’s been burned.
You don’t move. Just meet Erwin’s gaze over Levi’s shoulder.
“Commander,” Levi starts, tone flat and dangerous. “This isn’t—”
Erwin raises a hand. Cuts him off without effort.
“I’m not here to lecture.” He steps closer, boots quiet on the stone. “Though I will admit I’m… curious.”
Levi’s eyes flick to him. “Curious.”
Erwin’s mouth curves just a fraction. “You both look like you could use the break.” His gaze slides down the length of Levi’s throat, still flushed, then back up to you. “And I find myself wondering what exactly I interrupted.”
You feel Levi tense further, but there’s something else under it now. Not just embarrassment. Interest. Dangerous, reckless interest.
You tilt your head, studying Erwin right back.
“You want in?” you ask.
Erwin doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a slim silver case, flips it open. Inside are two slender, hand-rolled cigarettes—clearly not tobacco.
“I prefer something a little cleaner,” he says, taking one out and lighting it with a match from his own pocket. The flame catches the sharp lines of his face for a second. “But I’m not above sharing.”
He exhales a thin plume toward the ceiling, then looks between the two of you.
“Unless you’d rather I leave you to it.”
Levi lets out a slow, controlled breath. His fingers flex against your hip.
Then, quietly: “Stay.”
Erwin smiles. Small. Satisfied.
“Good choice.”
He steps closer. Close enough that you can smell the cedar of his coat and the faint char of his own smoke.
You feel Levi shift against you, making room without ever really pulling away.
Erwin's cigarette burns steady between his fingers as he takes another drag, the smoke curling up like a secret uncoiling. The air in the storage room thickens, laced with the heavier, earthier haze from your joint and the sharper, almost medicinal edge of whatever he's smoking. Something finer, purer, probably smuggled from the underground markets he never admits to tapping.
Levi hasn't pulled away from you entirely. His hand lingers at your hip, thumb tracing a slow, absent circle against the fabric of your shirt. But his eyes are locked on Erwin now.
"You're serious," Levi says, not quite a question. His voice is gravel-low, the kind that usually precedes a blade draw, but there's no threat in it. Not anymore.
Erwin exhales sideways, away from your faces, then stubs his cigarette against the crate's rough edge with precise pressure. It hisses out. He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he closes the distance in two unhurried steps, stopping just short of where your bodies press Levi against the flour. Close enough that you feel the warmth radiating off him, the faint starch of his uniform brushing your arm.
"Deadly," Erwin murmurs, blue eyes flicking between you both. They linger on Levi's mouth (still swollen from your kisses) then up to meet his gaze. "You've been carrying the weight of my plans long enough, Levi. Both of you have. If this is how you unwind…"
He trails off, one hand coming up to grip Levi's jaw firm enough to tilt his head back. Levi doesn't resist.
You watch the play of muscle in Levi's throat as he swallows. "This doesn't change anything," he warns, but his free hand shifts, fingers brushing Erwin's wrist like he's testing the give.
"It changes enough." Erwin's thumb drags across Levi's lower lip, parting it slightly. He leans in, not to kiss, but to speak directly against his mouth. "Tell me to stop."
Levi's eyes narrow. But he doesn't.
Instead, he surges forward, claiming Erwin's mouth in a kiss that's all teeth and pent-up frustration, years of following orders, of cleaning up after gambles that could have killed you all. Erwin meets it without flinching, one hand sliding into Levi's hair to hold him there, the other reaching past him to curl around your nape. Pulling you into the fray.
You don't hesitate. Your mouth finds the side of Levi's neck first, sucking a mark just below his ear while your hand slips under Erwin's coat, palm flat against the hard plane of his stomach. He tastes like smoke and command, skin warm through the thin shirt. Levi groans into Erwin's mouth at the dual assault, body arching between you.
Erwin breaks the kiss first, breathing steady even as his pupils dilate. He turns his head, captures your lips instead, slower than Levi's fire, but deeper, like he's mapping territory. His tongue slides against yours, tasting the lingering weed on your breath. You pass a thin thread of leftover smoke from your last hit into him that way, and he takes it down smooth.
"Fuck," you mutter when he pulls back, forehead resting against his for a beat. Your hand dips lower, fingers working at his belt buckle. He doesn't stop you.
Levi watches, chest rising faster now. His own hands are busy—yanking your shirt up to rake nails down your back, then switching to Erwin's thigh, gripping hard enough to bruise.
"Commander," he says, mocking the title just a little. "You gonna stand there, or—"
Erwin cuts him off with a hand fisted in his shirt, hauling him closer until Levi's flush against him. Your bodies form a tight knot now: you pressed to Levi's side, Erwin looming over both.
"Or?" Erwin echoes, voice dropping an octave as he grinds forward once. Levi's head knocks back against the wall with a dull thud.
You take the opening, dropping to your knees before either can protest. The stone bites cold through your pants, but the heat rising off them drowns it out. Levi's fly is already half-undone from earlier friction; you tug it the rest of the way, palming him through the fabric. He swears under his breath. Erwin watches you both with that unflinching stare, his own belt loosening under your free hand.
"Share," Erwin says, not an order but close enough. You do. Mouth on Levi first, hot and wet, taking him deep while your fingers stroke Erwin in rhythm. Levi's hand fists in your hair, holding you closer. Erwin mirrors him, threading fingers through the strands at your crown.
The room spins hazy: smoke, sweat, the low grunts Levi can't quite stifle. Erwin's composure cracks first; a sharp inhale when you swirl your tongue just right, his hip jerking forward.
"Enough," he rasps eventually, hauling you up by the armpits like you weigh nothing. Levi's right there when you surface, kissing you sloppy and desperate, tasting himself on your tongue. Erwin grabs Levi so easily to put him on his knees right between your legs
Your pants are open, shoved down just enough. One of your legs is hooked over his shoulder, the other trembles against the stone floor.
Erwin’s taken the half-smoked blunt from your fingers and holds it now between his own. He takes a slow pull, lets the smoke roll out before he speaks.
“Start with your tongue flat,” he tells Levi, like he’s giving field instructions. “Long strokes. From the bottom up. Don’t rush the clit yet, I bet she’s sensitive.”
Levi doesn’t look up at him. His eyes are locked on you, dark and focused. But he listens. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, thumbs spreading you open with a gentleness that feels obscene coming from him. Then his mouth is there, warm, wet, deliberate. Flat tongue dragging up the length of you in one filthy pass.
You choke on a breath. Your head thumps back against the wall.
“Fuck, Levi—”
Erwin’s free hand comes to your jaw, tilting your face toward him. Not rough. Just firm enough to make you look at him while Levi works.
“Breathe through it, darling, don't cum too fast,” he murmurs. “Let him hear how good he’s making you feel.”
He brings the blunt to your lips. You part for it automatically. He feeds you the smoke, slow exhale from his lungs into yours, then you pull it deeper, hold it while Levi’s tongue circles your entrance, not pushing in yet.
You exhale shakily against Erwin’s mouth. He kisses the corner of yours, soft, almost sweet.
“Good girl,” he says against your skin. “Look at him. Look how focused he is.”
You do. Levi’s eyes flick up, meeting yours for a heartbeat, and something in your chest twists hard. Then he dips lower again, tongue sliding inside you now, curling just enough to make your hips jerk.
“Holy—ah!”
Erwin’s thumb strokes your bottom lip.
“Tell him,” he says. “Use your words.”
You’re already unraveling. The weed has turned everything soft at the edges, slow and syrupy, but the heat between your legs is insistent.
“L-levi, your tongue... feels so fucking good—so so ngh!” The words tumble out, slurred and desperate. “Don’t stop, please—”
Erwin hums approval. He takes another pull from the blunt, then leans down and blows the smoke across your parted lips while Levi sucks gently at your clit for the first time.
Your whole body locks up. A high sound rips out of you.
“There it is,” Erwin says, voice darker now. “Right there. Flick your tongue like that. She likes that.”
Levi obeys instantly. Quick little passes over your clit, precise, relentless. His fingers dig into your thighs to keep you still when you start to writhe.
You’re babbling now, can’t help it.
“Levi—Levi—fuck, right there—don’t—don’t stop—gonna—gonna come—”
Erwin’s hand slides into your hair, cradling the back of your head so you don’t crack it against the wall when your spine arches.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let go for him. He’s earned it. You’re doing so well, look how hard you’re shaking.”
He brings the blunt back to your mouth one last time. You suck weakly, lungs burning, head spinning. The smoke hits like a second wave just as Levi flattens his tongue again and sucks harder.
You break.
The orgasm crashes through you in slow pulses, stretching out until you’re trembling, thighs clamping around Levi’s head, fingers twisted in his hair so tight it has to hurt. You’re loud, gasping, whimpering his name, Erwin’s, half-formed curses and pleas.
Levi doesn’t stop until you’re twitching with aftershocks, oversensitive and boneless. Only then does he pull back, lips shiny, chin wet. He rests his forehead against your thigh for a second, breathing hard.
Erwin exhales the last of the blunt’s smoke toward the ceiling. The cherry has burned down to almost nothing. He stubs it out against the crate with the same calm precision he does everything else.
Then he crouches beside Levi, close enough that their shoulders brush.
He cups Levi’s jaw with one hand, thumb wiping a slow stripe across his lower lip, collecting the taste of you.
“Perfect,” Erwin says quietly. Not to you this time, to Levi. “You listened so well.”
Levi’s eyes are still glassy, pupils huge. He leans into the touch just a fraction, like he can’t help it.
Erwin looks up at you next. You’re still panting, leg trembling where it’s draped over Levi’s shoulder.
“And you,” he says, “took it so beautifully.”
He rises, smooth and unhurried, and pulls you into him—chest to chest—while Levi stays on his knees a moment longer, catching his breath against your hip.
Erwin kisses you slow, tasting everything Levi left behind. When he pulls back, his smile is small.
“We should probably air this room out before someone else comes looking,” Levi says before you are pulling him into a kiss to shut him up.
situationship!levi ackerman finally eating you out ╱ mdni, part two of this ˚.✦
The moment your ribs get better and your able to walk, you show up in Levi's room, closing the door behind you and crossing your arms. He raises his eyebrows at your sight, waiting for you to do or say something. When you don't, he talks.
"Yes?" he asks, tilting his head and walking a few steps towards you.
You don't want to sound needy or desperate, but it's been a long time since anyone has eaten you out and the idea of Levi spreading your legs and using his tongue in you was making you drool.
"I believe we have unfinished business, don't you?"
Levi’s eyes narrow slightly, he doesn’t answer right away. Instead he closes the remaining distance until the toes of his boots nearly touch yours, head still tilted like he’s studying a mildly interesting stain on the wall.
“Unfinished business,” he repeats. His gaze drops deliberately to your mouth, then lower, lingering on the way your thighs press together, before flicking back up to your face. “You mean the part where I said I’d bury my face between your legs until you forgot how to form sentences?”
Heat explodes under your skin. You try to keep your expression neutral. You fail.
“…Yeah. That part.”
A beat of silence. Then the smallest upward twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“Took your ribs long enough to heal,” he mutters. One calloused hand finds your hip, thumb pressing just hard enough to guide you backward until your spine meets the door you just closed. He doesn’t crowd you yet, just holds you there with that single point of contact. “Was starting to think you’d forgotten.”
“I didn’t forget,” you say, and it comes out breathier than intended. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”
His thumb strokes once. “Mhm.”
And then he drops to one knee.
His hands are sliding up the outside of your thighs, getting rid of your straps and pants. Cool air hits the damp cotton between your legs and you suck in a sharp breath.
Levi pauses, nose brushing the front of your underwear. He inhales like he’s savoring wine.
“Already soaked through,” he observes, almost clinically. But the rasp in his voice betrays him. “Been wet since you walked in here?”
You swallow. “Since… probably since I decided to come here.”
“Hm.”
That’s all the warning you get.
He hooks two fingers in the waistband and drags the fabric down your thighs in one smooth pull, letting it pool at your ankles. Then his hands are on the backs of your knees, bending them gently, spreading you open while he settles between your legs like he’s done it a thousand times. Your back scrapes the wood of the door when he hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder.
The first pass of his tongue is so soft it’s almost polite.
The second is not.
He licks a broad, firm stripe from your entrance to your clit and then seals his mouth over the swollen bud, sucking lightly. Your hips jerk forward on instinct. He makes a low sound of approval against you, the vibration ripping a helpless little noise out of your throat.
And then he gets to work.
Levi eats you out like it’s a mission objective: precise, relentless, devastating. Flat tongue lapping broad strokes, then pointed flicks directly on your clit, then slow, sucking pulses that make your knees threaten to give out. When your fingers tangle in his hair he just grunts and presses closer, nose pressed to your mound, tongue spearing inside you only to drag back out and circle your clit again.
Minutes blur.
Your thighs start trembling. You’re pretty sure you’re babbling: half-formed praise, nonsense syllables, his name over and over like a broken record. He doesn’t let up. If anything he gets meaner about it: two fingers sliding in, curling, stroking that spot while his tongue works ruthless little circles on your clit. You come the first time so hard your vision whites out, he doesn’t stop. Just growls against your cunt and keeps going, licking you through the aftershocks until you’re squirming, oversensitive and giggling deliriously.
“Levi, fuck wait! Too much haahh—”
He pulls back just enough to speak, lips shiny, voice wrecked. “You begged for this.”
“I knooow!” Another helpless giggle spills out as he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit again, slow and cruel. “But hah brain’s melting. ”
“Means I’m doing it right.” He sucks hard. Your back arches off the door.
He makes you come a second time like that: still standing, thigh shaking on his shoulder, fingers yanking at his undercut while you giggle and gasp and beg incoherently. Then a third, this time with three fingers stretching you open and his tongue lashing your clit so fast you can barely breathe.
By the fourth you’re sliding down the door, legs jelly. He catches you easily, hauls you against his chest and carries you the few steps to his cot like you weigh nothing. Drops you on the thin mattress, spreads your thighs wide again, and dives back in.
"Wait wait wait," you say, grabbing his hair and pulling him back. "Again?"
Levi licks his lips, giving you the most lustful expression he has ever put on his face. His eyes are shining, he's rock hard trying to not hump the bed and his lips and chin are glistening because of you.
"Yes," he says, giving you a wet kiss on your thigh, then another right on your bush. "Taste so fucking good."
That sends a full shiver along your body. You run your hands through his hair again, pushing him into your pussy. He goes slower this time, teasing your clit and just licking your hole without actually pushing his tongue inside.
He looks up at you, enjoying the desperate faces you made, as well as the dumb whines you let out.
"L-Levi, c'mon," you manage to say in a breath.
"Mhm?" He lifts his head fully from your cunt, leaving you clenching around nothing. "Yes, darling?"
The fucking petname makes you roll your eyes and sigh, you've known him for a long time to know when he's fucking with you.
"Make me cum," you tell him, brushing a strand of his hair. "Please."
He blinks slowly, almost forming a smirk.
"Again?" And now he's mocking you, his cheek pressed to your inner thigh, his hand going up and down your puffy lips, touching everywhere except where you need him.
You narrow your eyes at him, chest still heaving, thighs trembling on either side of his smug face.
“Leviiii.”
He hums like he’s got all night. The pad of his middle finger traces the slick outer edge of your folds then dips just barely inside your entrance before retreating again.
You let out a frustrated little huff that turns into a whine when he deliberately blows a cool stream of air across your swollen clit. Your hips twitch upward, chasing contact he refuses to give.
“Use your words,” he murmurs against your thigh. His lips brush your skin as he speaks, you can feel the shape of every syllable. “Thought you wanted me to make you come. Or was that someone else moaning my name five minutes ago?”
You grit your teeth. He’s enjoying this way too much; the power trip, the way you’re falling apart under the lightest touch, the way you can’t quite hide how badly you need him to stop playing and just do it.
“Stop being a tease,” you snap, voice cracking on the last word because he chooses that exact second to drag the very tip of his tongue in the slowest, feather-light circle around your clit without ever making real contact.
He pulls back again, just far enough that you feel the loss of his breath like a physical thing.
“Tease?” He tilts his head. “I’m just making sure you’re ready. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.” His fingers part your lips again, spreading you open so he can watch the way your entrance flutters uselessly. “Look at that. So needy it’s practically begging.”
“Levi.” Your voice is dangerously close to a growl.
“Yes, sweetheart?” The pet name drips like honey and venom at the same time. He presses the flat of his tongue right against your clit letting you feel the heat and the texture and nothing else. Then he pulls away again. “You were saying?”
That’s it.
You’re done.
Both hands fist in his hair as hard as you can and you yank him forward with zero gentleness, shoving his face straight into your cunt.
“Shut. Up,” you hiss, grinding against his mouth before he can even react. “And eat me like you fucking mean it.”
For half a second he freezes, surprised, maybe even impressed.
Then he laughs against you, the sound muffled and dark and vibrating straight through your core.
He grabs the undersides of your thighs, hooks both legs over his shoulders in one brutal motion and devours you.
Just hungry, filthy, open-mouthed sucking, tongue plunging inside you, curling, fucking in and out before dragging up to lash your clit in tight, relentless circles. His nose grinds against your mound with every pass and his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs hard enough to bruise. He groans like he’s starving and you’re the first real meal he’s had in years.
You arch so violently your spine leaves the mattress.
“Fuck fuck fuck yesss. There, right haah there”
He doesn’t answer. Can’t. Too busy drinking you down, lips sealed around your clit, sucking hard while two fingers slam back inside and crook against that spot that makes your vision spark white.
You come so fast it almost hurts. Shattering, screaming his name, thighs clamping around his head like you’re trying to suffocate him. He doesn’t stop. Just keeps licking, slower now, drawing it out until you’re shaking and whimpering and trying to push him away because it’s too much, too sensitive, too good.
He finally pulls back when you’re practically sobbing with overstimulation, lips and chin absolutely drenched, eyes blown black with lust. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then crawls up your body until his weight pins you to the cot.
You’re still panting, dazed, when he leans down and kisses you deep, letting you taste yourself all over his tongue.
When he breaks away, his voice is wrecked.
“Next time you want my mouth,” he mutters against your lips, “just say so. Don’t make me work for it.”
You manage a breathless laugh, fingers still tangled in his hair.
“Next time,” you rasp, “I’m sitting on your face until you beg me to stop.”
⁂ random hot things guys do that i think are levi-coded part l
minors dni contains sfw & nsfw
☼ when he unbuttons the top of his shirt and rolls up his sleeves to clean. jaw set, brows slightly furrowed in focus. he wipes sweat from his temple with the back of his hand, and the veins in his forearms flex when he wrings out the cloth. he catches you staring and pauses, just briefly, giving you a pointed look that makes your stomach flip and those tiny butterflies flutter.
☼ when he’s fucking you slow, one hand gripping the innermost part of your thigh to keep your legs spread while the other is pressed flat against the mattress. you can hear the faint rasp of his breath, the soft drag of it near your ear before he exhales your name in a breathy, groaned curse. and when your pussy clenches just right, he grits his teeth and mutters something low, like he’s trying not to lose it completely.
☼ when you wake up before him and roll over, only to find him already watching you with heavy-lidded eyes. his hand comes up to your waist, rough hands coming around to press against the skin of your stomach. he drags you closer without a word, tucking your head under his chin and closing his eyes again.
☼ when he lifts you onto the counter without asking just grabs you by the waist mid-kiss and sets you down like you weigh nothing. then stands between your legs, hands on either side of your body. he dips his head to trail hot open-mouthed kisses down your neck.
☼ when you’re straddling him on the couch and his hands are secured firmly on your waist. his lips moving against yours in a way that almost seems hungry. he pulls back just enough to look at you and mutters “tch… clingy,”but his grip doesn’t loosen. he doesn’t let you go
☼ when he cuts a guy off mid-sentence for looking at you too long. he doesn’t yell, doesn’t make a scene, just gives a low “watch your eyes”in a tone flat enough to turn the air cold. and the whole room quiets.
☼ when you’ve gotten dressed in a hurry and he silently fixes the collar of your uniform/shirt. he doesn’t break eye contact at first, his fingers linger for a half a second to long and he subtly looks from your eyes, to your lips and back in a way that makes it so you can’t breathe.
☼ when he’s balls deep inside you, one hand holding your wrists above your head. he rolls his hips in just the right way. slow enough that you feel every ridge of his shaft. your voice breaks, body trembling beneath him. a whimpering mess. he mutters “tch, you’re so loud.” but he doesn’t stop. if anything, he fucks you harder.
☼ when he checks your gear before a mission. he doesn’t ask. just steps behind you and starts tightening the straps on your harness with precise movements. his fingers brush your ribs as he adjusts the buckles, than tug once to make sure they’re secure. “too loose,” he mutters. and when he’s done, he steps away without looking at you. like it didn’t make your heart drop to your stomach.
levi doesn’t think that he deserves to feel good, not when he’s bed-bound from an injury, useless to anyone who might need him, so when you wake him with your pretty mouth, so soft and warm around his cock, he pushes you away.
“off, brat.” he sneers to hide his arousal, his confusion. he’s never been less deserving of your time or the rare gift of your body. why do you always insist on complicating things for him? “you can’t go one day without it?”
ignoring him, you push away his hands and wrap your wrist around his shaft.
“want to make you feel good.” your mouth closes over the tip, a low hum of delight sounding through your mouth when he immediately hardens. “that all right, captain?”
part of him wants to smack the impish smirk off your mouth, the other can’t help sinking into the usual pull of you, the something he can’t help but want.
“fine.” his hand melts into your hair, tightening on your scalp. “make it quick.”
before he falls into the bliss of your touch, he hears you say, in that insubordinate tone that never fails to stir his blood, “anything for you, sir.”
Context: Top/Quiet reader x Bottom/Popular character
Background: You just couldn’t deny him, he who is always the talk of the town, and charms all. What were you to do but comply?
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔୨୧
You weren’t particularly well known in school, not that you were “weird” or anything, you just blended in, quiet as you were. However, one thing stood out about you, and that was your company.
He was playful, and had always been a trouble maker; causing a ruckus in classes, messing around, you name it and he’s done it. But he had this captivating nature, when he grinned up at you, with that sweet look in his eyes, one could hardly deny him.
Class had been going just as it always had. He stuck to his usual group, chattering loudly and getting the usual scolding from the teacher. “My bad, Ms. Anderson” He lamented raising his hands, a shit eating grin on his face.
“You already know that you shouldn’t be roaming around the classroom during instructions, get back to your seat.” She replayed sternly, causing his face to drop into a mock-pout.
As he made his way back, dropping down into his seat with little care; his eyes met yours. “Ugh, Ms. Anderson’s such a buzzkill, she’s always so pissy about everything.” He muttered to you.
There wasn’t a single thought of his he didn’t share with you; the two of you stuck together ever since you were just scrawny boys that were constantly brawling.
”Maybe she wouldn’t harp on you so much if you did as you were told” You commented, not lifting your eyes from your paper; face resting on your cheek.
“Come on not you too!” He whines, gazing up at you from where his head rested in his crossed arms. “You know I always have way too much energy during last period.”
You let out a tired sigh; used to his excuses.
“Yeah, yeah tell me about it.” You shrugged him off.
His gaze raked over you, as you spoke; eyes growing heavy and… sultry. “..Can’t you help me out like usual. This is all ‘cause you’ve been too busy.”
──────────────────────
”Haa…” He let out a soft breath, his body held up by his arms pushing against the desk behind him.
Your mouth swallowed down his shaft, the stickiness of his precum sticking to your chin, and you pushed deeper. “…Mmm feels good..”
It wasn’t your first time doing it after all, this became routine; helping your bro relieve his stress. At first it started because he claimed that off season left him with too much energy, but then it grew into something regular, guiding him through his “struggles”
Your mouth left with an audible pop, causing him to let out a pathetic whimper. Your hand gripped his cock at its base, setting a slow pace as you jerked him off.
“Nnn.. y/n keep going, harder..” He moaned, hips jerking up with each movement hoping to speed you up a little.
You never could believe it, this guy who was always dating around, and the pride of your school’s team; was whimpering and whining in the grip of his “buddy.”
“…You told me to slow down yesterday, cause it was too much though” You mumbled, starting to pick the pace his hips had set.
“…angh your’ such a good friend-mmh.. “ His face all sloppy; drool all over his face, pants unbuckled messily, with his pre soaked boxers hung tightly over those thick thighs.
The title shouldn’t piss you off, I mean this was the right thing to do! You’ve been helping him with this ever since he got curious, and wanted to “explore.” And now he can’t even get off unless it’s with your callused hands, or oh-so-warm and welcoming mouth.
“Good ‘ol y/n.. hnn always doing what I say..” He spoke out through moans.
He was clearly getting close, seeing how he couldn’t get a word out without moaning, and allll that praise. You knew he only did that so you could return some; it was hard to reach climax without your voice guiding him.
You fingers formed a ring, jerking his cock in fast motions. “..Come on let it out, you had a rough day didn’t ya..”
“Unnghh..” His dazed eyes only seemed to dilate further, as the muscles in his thighs jerked and he came hard, covering your hand in a thin liquid; you did this too often for it to ever be anything but clear.
He slumped back letting you milk whatever was remaining with little protest. “..mm next time jus’ help me out during class, that hag doesn’t check- hah.. another the desks anyways”
“..nd maybe I could return the favor later, y’know..” He let out with his plushy lips, in a quiet almost shy voice.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔୨୧⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔ ୨୧
I lowkey might’ve based this off the dudes in my class who’re lowkirkenuinly in love, and also “A class mate who’ll do anything for you” by Mokumoku Ren the creator of “The summer hikaru died.” I totally am in love with that one shot and I wish it was getting a series ( ;´ - `;)
I haven’t been active lately but I saw that sally face post and girl I would go absolutely BERSERK over some written work from you!!! ( I have a tattoo of him on my arm 😛 )
And I hope you’re doing well❤️
LET'S FUCKING GO BABYYYYY im doing so well now that i got this off my chest 🙏🏻 ill be shitting out some of these in the near future because i have so many ideas AND NO WRITER'S BLOCK CAN HOLD A BITCH BACK
Your Hands (Sal Fisher x F!Reader)
CW: lovey dovey sex with a lot of care beforehand (tf do you call that cause its not foreplay), handjob, a bit of edging, riding, creampie
a/n: this isn't completely canon, we're pretending there's no cult or death or trial in this one
summary: you love pampering your boyfriend 🩵
wordcount 4.5k
The room is quieted to a warm, comforting light from the bedside lamp and fairylights stretched haphazardly across the walls like webs - some christmas tree decorations you thought were too pretty to only take out once a year. The sheets are halfway pulled back, and Sal’s laid out flat on his back, face turned your way, prosthetic set aside neatly on the nightstand beside him.
He looks relaxed in that him kind of way: shoulders loose but still a little guarded, jaw set like he’s trying not to let himself enjoy the attention too fully. But he’s not moving away either. He’s letting you work, limp and unavoidably loved.
You’re sat next to him on your knees, bent over the bed with the tiny jar of ointment he used to keep tucked away when you first moved in together. Your fingers are slow and methodical as you press into the scarred flesh of his left cheek, free hand gingerly unsticking stray blue hairs from the oily sheen of the cream. The skin there is pink and and taut over twisted muscle and missing bone, but he never flinches away. Not from you.
You see the way his eye flutters shut at the first pass of your knuckles.
“…You okay?” you murmur, your voice just above a whisper, thumb dragging just under his empty eye socket.
Sal hums, the sound low and lazy. “Mhm. Feels nice.”
Then, after a beat:
“Still weird sometimes. Not bad weird, just– y’know.” He gestures vaguely with one hand, bare arm shifting with the motion. You do know. You've spent countless nights in this same position, palms light and tentative over skin that used to jump, willing old habits away.
“I get it,” you say gently. You lean down, pressing your lips to the uneven angle of his jaw where you were yet to lather the ointment, before smoothing your knuckles over your kiss. “You don’t have to say anything.”
He doesn’t. Just breathes a little deeper through his nose and lets his spine curve into the mattress like that's where he belongs - and he does.
Once you’ve finished smoothing the salve over the angry pink ridges of his scars, you swap it out for a light moisturizer - something scentless and barely there that he used to tease you about until he felt how soft it made his skin feel. You rub a little between your palms before tracing it over his forehead and the edge of his jaw, down his neck. He goes pliant under your hands, like melting wax.
It’s not even about skin care at this point. It’s just an excuse to touch him.
You pause for a moment, just watching him. He’s beautiful in this light: sleepy and half-undone, hair messy from how he’d pulled it out of its piggies earlier, the strands soft and curling where they rest against the pillow. You brush them aside before leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He makes a quiet noise, not quite a word.
You smile. “C’mere. Sit up for a second.”
Sal cracks open his eye, then grunts softly when he shifts, slow and heavy like gravity’s tripled. He hauls himself up to sit at the edge of the bed while you reach over to grab the cream you keep for massages, thicker than lotion, with a faint smell of vanilla and something herbal - supposed to work as a muscle relaxant, but Sal insists it's your hands doing the work. You warm it between your palms and step behind him where he sits shirtless in the lampglow, spine still curved like he’s resisting the urge to just collapse face-down.
But then your hands slide onto his shoulders, and he melts. Audibly.
He lets out this deep, involuntary sigh from his chest, head tipping forward a little like he’s already half asleep. His body slackens under your touch as you begin to work the cream into his shoulders and the nape of his neck, thumbs kneading into the knots buried deep under skin and bone, tight like he always carries something that won't leave his body without help.
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, voice hoarse with how relaxed he is. “Feels fuckin' incredible.”
“Yeah?,” you hum, smiling a little. “I like taking care of you.”
You press into a tight spot at the base of his neck, and he groans again, quiet and strained, the kind of sound that makes your stomach flip just a little.
“I know.” His voice cracks when you move down between his shoulder blades. He sounds embarrassed - not ashamed, just not used to saying it out loud.
“You're getting better at letting me,” you murmur into the back of his neck, just barely grazing your lips over his skin.
He shivers. Just once.
You move further down his back, palms smoothing wide and slow, working your way to his lower spine before traveling back up again, dragging your nails lightly this time. His breath snags in his throat before puffing out in a shudder.
There’s no rush in any of it. It’s languid and quiet and intimate, the kind of care that doesn't require payment. The kind of care that repays you with a softness in his eye that undoes you.
Eventually your hands trace along his biceps, his forearms, the narrow slopes of his wrists, lingering there, massaging gently into his palms, his knuckles. He watches you do it, fingers twitching with stimulation. Quiet. Eyes a little hazy.
He shifts his leg slightly and you catch the movement. The faint bulge in his sweats is there but soft, lazy, like the rest of him. Not urgent, just… responsive. A little foggy. Warmed up by touch and trust and the way your thumbs are circling the heel of his palm right now.
“…You’re unreal,” he murmurs, voice low.
You glance up. “Hmm?”
Sal just shakes his head slightly, hair falling into his face, and gives you a tired, barely-there smile. “Nothing. Just… you're unreal.”
He doesn’t pull away when you kiss the inside of his wrist.
Doesn’t stop you when your fingers start to trail back up his arms again, slow and soft and attentive. Doesn’t say a word when you press your chest to his back and wrap your arms around him loosely from behind, letting your chin rest on his shoulder as your hands splay gently over his ribs.
"You want me to stop?" you whisper behind his ear, low and breathy and just a hint teasing, nails ghosting over the ridges of his ribs.
He twitches and huffs. "Fuck no."
So you don't. He stays in that loose, half-draped sprawl on the edge of the bed for a while, boneless while you rake your fingers in one more pass down his sides, up do his chest and down to the clenching plane of his stomach, stopping just above his navel, where a thin trail of hair blends into puff. Strands of hair stick to his cheek, eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded like he could pass out sitting up. But when you press a kiss to the slope of his neck and trail your hand down his arm, guiding him back into the sheets and crawling slowly in sync with his body, he goes without argument.
You’re straddling his lap. Sort of.
More like kneeling over him, legs tucked on either side of his hips as he leans back against the headboard, shirtless, flushed, and very much not hiding the way he’s slowly hardening in his sweats. The lamp light kisses every inch of his bare chest, from the soft dip of his collarbones to the tight line of his abdomen, all the way down to the waistband that’s just barely hanging on.
He watches you through his bangs, hair mussed and falling into his face. The scarred half of his face is raw and glossy from the ointment, but his gaze lingers.
You're not really trying to be seductive, but the way your tank top clings when you shift your weight forward -climbing up his thighs to kneel just above his stomach - doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. It’s a worn-in scrap of fabric, washed soft, stretched paper-thin at the chest with low, sagging armholes that show the sides of your tits every time you lean in. And you do lean in; palms pressed to either side of his neck, hovering over him now as your thumbs start to work into the base of his throat.
His Adam’s apple shifts under your fingers as he swallows.
“Eyes up here, Fish,” you murmur with a crooked smile, even though your tits are half-out and you’re clearly not planning to hide them.
“Can’t help it,” he says, voice soft and a little hoarse. “They’re right there.”
You snort under your breath. “Honesty is the best policy, huh?”
He shrugs with a lopsided, exhausted looking grin. “Figured you’d rather hear the truth than pretend I’m not about to pop a boner during a shoulder rub.”
“About to?” You glance down. Nope, definitely already popped.
Sal flushes slightly, pink spreading from the bridge of his nose to his temples, but he doesn’t backtrack. If anything, his head leans back against the wall with a small, breathy laugh, the kind you only get from him when he’s just relaxed enough to admit he’s fucked in the best way.
His sweats are doing a terrible job hiding how hard he’s gotten, and your position sure as hell isn’t making it better. But you don’t move. You let your fingers smooth gently up his neck, rubbing slow, comforting circles into the sides of his throat and under his ears, letting your thumbs barely graze his collarbones.
“You know you can stop me,” you murmur, and you mean it.
Sal just looks up at you, half-lidded and smiling again, this time with a little more teeth. “You better fucking not.”
You laugh low, and lean down further to kiss the corner of his mouth, quick and sweet, before dragging your palms over his chest.
Your fingers slow at his sternum, pressing down gently, spreading more cream into his chest. You don’t say anything right away. Just let that little admission hang in the air between you, sweet and open and filthy in its own way. You know he means it; this isn’t seduction, it’s vulnerability with a hard-on.
Sal inhales sharply as your hands trail up again, slower now, crawling wide over his chest before curling back toward his throat. You’re careful here - fingers light, thumbs sweeping gently along the sides of his neck, not squeezing, just exploring. His pulse is jumping under your touch. You feel it throb when you graze just below his jaw, tilting his face toward you a little, eyes drinking his mouth.
He’s flushed deeper now. His eye is hazy. He looks up at you like he might actually die if you stopped.
“You’re not even touching my dick,” he mutters, “and I feel like I’m gonna blow a fuse.”
“You like it that much?”
His breath hitches.
“Are you joking?” He laughs, but it’s breathless. “You could be reading me a fucking bill right now and I’d still be hard with you sitting on me like this.”
You smile lazily, letting your fingers brush up the column of his throat, gentle, delicate.
“Oh yeah?” you murmur. “You want me to read you your water bill, baby?”
He groans loud, head falling back against the pillows. “Don’t do that.”
“What? You said you’d still be hard.”
“That was not an invitation.”
You’re both grinning now. Your hands don’t stop moving - rubbing, kneading, massaging every inch of his chest and stomach, soft and attentive, every touch sending little shockwaves of pleasure straight to where he’s already aching. You’re not trying to tease him, not really. The tension between you is already thick enough to chew through, and if he looked any more blissed-out and desperate under your hands, you’d start worrying about his blood pressure.
So, when you slip your hands back from his chest to your own body, tug that excuse of fabric up and over your head and toss it aside without fanfare, your boyfriend's eyes still go wide like you’ve just thrown a live grenade into his lap.
He swallows hard. Doesn’t say a word. Just stares.
You don’t call him out. You like the way he stares - eyes hungry but somehow still making you feel like you're being admired rather than preyed on. Jaw slack, breath catching like he forgot what oxygen was for a second. You just smile slow and sweet, and lean forward to press your palms back to his shoulders, skin to skin, chest to chest.
The warmth of your tits brushing against him draws a sound out of him he probably didn’t mean to make - a sharp inhale through gritted teeth, followed by a groan that stays caught somewhere in his throat.
“...Holy shit,” he mutters.
You pretend to hum innocently. “What?”
“You– just– you know what.”
But he doesn’t stop you when you slide your hands down again, over his stomach, trailing slow, slick paths with the leftover massage cream. He doesn’t flinch when your fingers slide under the waistband of his pants.
He just lifts his hips wordlessly so you can tug them down.
You push his sweats and boxers off in one slow motion, and his cock bounces free, flushed red and aching, laying against his stomach, tip sparkling like glitter in the cozy light.
You stare at it for a second. You can’t help it, you always stare. Flushed pink and pretty. Smooth. He’s not obnoxiously big - maybe a little above average - but the shape of it always makes your stomach clench with the memory of how it fills you with the slight curve upward, the thickness at the middle. The way the vein curves along the underside. The way it twitches like your eyes hold weight against it.
You glance up at him, and he’s got one arm thrown over his face now, blushing hard, chest rising and falling.
“...Don’t look at it like that,” he says, voice strangled.
“Like what?” you laugh, already shifting your weight to sit properly between his legs now, hands still lathered and slippery as you reach out and finally wrap your fingers around him.
He shudders. Jaw clenched, hips stiffening. His cock throbs immediately, in sync with his heartbeat.
“Like you’re about to narrate a crime scene,” he huffs.
You smile. “No crime here. Just admiring the evidence.”
Then you start stroking. Slowly.
Your palm slides up from the base to the head, twisting just a little on the way up. The lube of the cream makes it glide so smooth he lets out a full-body groan before he can stop himself. His hips buck slightly again, not on purpose. Just a natural response to how good it feels, to being touched like this by you.
“You okay?” you ask, voice syrupy.
“Fffuck,” he breathes, arm still covering his face. “That’s not a real question. You know how okay I am.”
You giggle, and your other hand comes in to cradle his balls lightly, thumbing gently at the soft skin there while your main grip works a slow rhythm up and down his shaft. He’s leaking already, a bead of precum pearling at the tip, and you spread it with your thumb, twisting lazily at the crown.
His legs twitch.
“You’re so sensitive today,” you murmur, biting your lip.
“Because you’re- fuck- because you’re doing this, with your tits out and your fucking hands- Jesus.”
You start stroking a little firmer, a little tighter, still slow, still relaxed, but more purposeful now. He’s throbbing hard, and your slick palm glides up and down with wet, lewd sounds that are only barely covered by the pipes moaning from nextdoor.
His head tips back against the wall with a dull thud. His voice comes out shaky.
“Gonna cum- seriously, I’m close already, I don’t-”
“Nope,” you cut in gently. “Not yet.”
You ease up just slightly, teasing a little swirl around the head with your fingertips, dragging your nails gently along the underside, then working your fist slow and deep again from base to tip, watching his cock pulse in your grip.
“You’re edging me?” he pants, cracking his eye open, mouth parted in a needy slit.
“No,” you say sweetly, stroking again. “I just know you can hold out a little longer.”
“...God,” he groans, hips twitching again. “That feels so good.”
You lean in close, tits pressed to his thighs now, your hand still working him in slow, even pumps. His cock is flushed, stiff, leaking freely now. You press a kiss to his hipbone, not looking up.
“I want to enjoy you,” you murmur. “You look so pretty like this."
Sal whimpers.
You stroke him long and slow, your other hand massaging lightly between his legs, and every once in a while you glance up to catch him peeking under the crook of his arm, eyes glassy and dark with need. He throbs harder, more urgent, like a heartbeat in your fist, but he doesn't beg or ask for more. He never does, and he never needs to.
You finally pry your hand off his length and pull your panties off your hips while his chest deflates with relief. You climb him, full body bare and skin warm from the lamp-lit room, calves bracketing his hips as you ease into a squat, your palms resting on his chest for balance, and fuck, the look on his face?
Wrecked. Reverent. Like he’s witnessing the second coming in real time and barely surviving it.
His good eye is already unfocused, droopy-lidded, tracking the slow roll of your hips as you press your slick heat down onto his cock. Not taking him in yet, just letting your folds glide along the length of him. Coating him. Teasing him. The whole head of his cock disappears beneath your pussy for a second, only to pop out again slick and twitching, shiny with how wet you are.
“Fffffuck,” he hisses, head lolling. “That- that is so- fuck, baby, you know how that looks?”
You do. That’s why you’re doing it.
Because you know what it does to him when you squat over him like this: tits hanging soft and heavy, thighs tight, hips dragging in long, smooth rolls, and using his cock to rub yourself off like it’s your favorite toy. His mouth is open now, chest stuttering with every breath, eyes barely hanging on to your form.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans, voice cracking.
You reach down, wrap your fingers around the base of his cock to keep him in place, and grind your cunt down against the underside again, slow and hot, your clit catching on the swollen ridge of his head every time.
“I can’t- I’m gonna- fuck- please, just- ”
You lift your hips slightly, cutting him off, line him up, and sink down.
No showboating, no dramatics. Just the slick, perfect glide of your pussy stretching around him, slow and smooth and hot, until he’s buried inside you all the way to the hilt.
Sal chokes. His back arches. His hands fly to your hips like instinct, like he’s trying not to black out.
“Holy fuck,” he gasps, voice gone completely hoarse. “You’re- you’re-”
You rock your hips forward and down, and his sentence dies in his throat.
You lean back just slightly, keeping your thighs spread, keeping that squat tight and low, and start riding him in slow, delicious bounces, controlled and deliberate. The way your pussy squeezes around him every time you lift, then drags down again has his mouth dropping open in this slack-jawed awe. Like he’s not even in his body anymore. Like you don't do this every few days.
You’re not trying to perform. It’s just good. So good you feel it in your teeth.
His voice is barely working. Little whines, wet groans, shaky breaths.
He looks up at you with wide, glassy-eyed look you love - and it’s desperate, but not begging. Just overwhelmed. Overcome. He’s not doing anything but taking it, just barely managing to keep his hips from jerking up.
You let one hand slip up from his chest to his throat. Not tight. Just holding him there. Thumb brushing his pulse, fingers wrapped around the soft skin under his jaw. You feel his heartbeat slam against your palm.
His eye rolls back.
“Oh my god,” he croaks. “You feel- fuck me, fuck-”
Every muscle in your legs is starting to sting, but it’s worth it. Because every single time you sink back down on him, you can see his whole body twitch. You can hear the wet slap of your ass against his hips, the obscene squelch where your bodies meet.
“I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, almost shocked.
“Not yet,” you pant. “Just let it feel good.”
You lean in more. Your tits brush his chest again, sweat slicking the space between you. His hands slip up your back, trembling just slightly. His mouth keeps falling open like he wants to say something but his brain is skipping like a record every time your pussy strangles him.
You’re watching him. He’s watching you. It’s all heat and eye contact and the feeling of his cock punching just shy of your cervix everytime you drop.
He’s wrecked. You fucking love seeing him this slutted out and unguarded. There’s drool at the corner of his mouth. His bangs are stuck to his forehead. His chest is heaving, every muscle tight, thighs shaking and bucking up just barely like he can't help it.
You press down hard and stay there, whining quiet and sticky behind your teeth, clenching tight around him, and his hips jerk so hard it knocks a sound out of him - something cracked and gorgeous, like he’s trying not to scream.
“I’m- oh my god,” he gasps.
You squeeze your hand just a little firmer around his neck, and raise your hips again once the burn eased in your thighs.
You can't slow down. You’re so deep on him you swear you can feel him in your throat, and every single time you plop your weight down, the stretch hits perfect, like he was made to fill you and your cunt was molded in the shape of his cock, made to take it.
Sal is barely breathing underneath you. His hands are gripping whatever they can find; your thighs, the sheets, the meat of your ass, your waist. He’s long past trying to be quiet about it. He’s making sounds, open and wet, like he’s too full of you to hold anything in.
And when you catch the shine of spit at the corner of his mouth - just this tiny glint on his flushed, panting face - you reach down without thinking. Swipe your thumb across it, and then lick the pad clean. Right in front of him.
He blinks up at you, stunned and smitten, jaw slack like he’s actually about to ascend through the ceiling. Like he cannot believe you just did that, but also please do it again.
“…That was- fuck, that was hot,” he mumbles, voice ruined.
You smirk, but it slips fast. The pressure's getting overwhelming. Your hips are slowing just enough now for depth, not pace - each drop has you bottoming out so perfectly it makes your toes curl. You’re soaked. He’s twitching inside you, every vein dragging against your walls, his cock so hard you can feel it pulsing behind your clit like some god-made rose toy.
Then you feel his hand slide between you, a little awkward but determined.
His thumb finds your clit without fumbling, palm gripping the inside of your thigh so he doesn't tremble away. Just presses down, firm and slow, rubbing in twitchy circles like he knows you’re right there on the edge and he needs you to cum like he needs air.
Your breath snags.
“Sal- fuck-”
“Need to feel it,” he pants, eye locked on your face. “Need to feel you cum on me, I can’t- fuck- I can’t take it anymore.”
You whimper.
You keep bouncing, barely now, more like rolling and grinding, letting him stay deep while his thumb works just right, pressure steady, no teasing, no delay. You’re so close it’s already burning.
“Come on,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “Let me feel it. Please.”
That does it.
Your whole body locks for a second, like every muscle’s bracing against the quake of it, and then it washes through you in hot, fast waves, pussy clenching tight and wet and shuddering around him. You cry out loud and sudden. Legs trembling, back arching so deep you almost fold backwards.
Sal gasps like he’s just been electrocuted. His cock jumps inside you so hard it almost punches another orgasm out of you on the spot.
“Oh my god,” he moans. “That- that, baby, it- Fuck yes-”
He’s babbling now, voice shaky and low and almost breaking. “Please- please can I cum? Inside you? Please- fuck- I’ll lose it if you say no-”
You grab his face, pressinj your forehead to his. Your hips still moving, grinding through your own aftershocks, knocking his body back and forth under you with the urgency of it, squeezing around him like your body’s begging for it too.
“Yes,” you choke. “Yes, fuck, please-”
And Sal breaks.
He makes this low, guttural sound that cuts short in his throat, fingers digging into your hips, and then he’s thrusting up into you, sudden and deep, once, twice, again. You feel him spill inside you, hot and messy and so much, like he’s been holding it back for hours. He chokes high on a moan, wraps his arms around you, clutches you to his chest as he empties himself inside you in thick pulses.
You don’t stop moving.
You ride him through every second of it, tight and slow and sweet, until he’s sagging underneath you, twitching, body limp but still inside, still gasping softly against your collarbone.
Your thighs shake. Your whole lower half is dripping.
He finally exhales, ragged and wrecked.
“…I think I just saw God,” he mutters into your skin.
You laugh, breathless and still sticking to him like velcro.
“No,” you whisper back, voice hoarse. “That was just me.”
here is the image
Edit 2: https://discord.gg/PGMsUY7GDd
Edit 1: holy shit this blew up, considering following me for obey me art/memes and join my server for art/free art chances!!
So there was a request for a sylus and another Rafayel. But I lost it because I’m dumb 😭 so I’m just going to make two different fics. The next one I make could maybe be Caleb? But anyways enjoy.
Paring - Sylus x Fem! Reader
Warnings - (I’m to lazy let’s be honest)
Genre - Smut
The N109 Zone was wasn’t the best place to be, obviously. Yet you’d take out your motorcycle and visit the N109 Zone. You’d tell yourself it was because you needed to get more information on the Aether Core but you knew it wasn’t the full truth; not even half of it.
As you reach a certain building you park your motorcycle, placing the kickstand up and pulling off your gloves. Now the real question was why are you even coming here? Unannounced at that. Well you didn’t really have a answer. Except for a ‘feeling’? You guess.
Yes a ‘feeling’ call it what you will but you found yourself wanting to spend more time with the leader of Onychinus. Just a feeling okay? It wasn’t like you had feelings for Sylus. No. Never that. He’s a criminal- an outlaw, a cute one.
“What!? No!”
You shook your head as you knocked on the door. It slowly opened like the the dark hallway invited you in. Daring you to take a step inside.
“Luke, Kieran?” You muttered the twins names. No answer. A sigh left your lips as you finally pulled off your helmet. “Sylus?”
Your feet carried you through the hallway as you weaved in and out of the rooms searching for signs of the men. Suddenly you were standing in front of Sylus’s bedroom door. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to look’ was the small sentence that left your lips. Pushing the door open and doing a once over finding nothing but emptiness and stillness. Wondering back to the door a sudden thud came from the bathroom. Your mind returning to hunter mode thinking it was a wanderer. You pulled out your gun and moved to the bathroom door. Pressing your ear against the door you heard nothing. You reached your hand to the door knob and swung it open.
Only to be met with a naked Sylus, well a half naked Sylus had a towel wrapped around his waist as he looked surprised to see you. Realizing that you are now face to face with the man you were looking for… and that your gun was pointed towards his bare chest. Well a very tone chest if you do say so yourself.
“Seems a kitten has lost its way.” Sylus said unbothered as a grin spread across his face. Placing your gun away fumbling with it for a minute you took a step back towards the door. “Sorry, I didn’t- I thought-” You stumbled over your words.
Noticing how you were walking back towards the door Sylus looked back facing the mirror as a red and black mist wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards him.
“Where are you going, kitten?” He finally said grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. “Seems this.. cat is a bit filthy, no?”
“What are you getting at?” You said as your brows furrowed as you felt his hand snake up your waist. You pressed your legs together hoping he wouldn’t notice. God you were already thinking think you really shouldn’t. In all honesty you really should be ashamed by even getting wet at the moment.
“You need a shower, I’ve already took one but I don’t mind another.” Sylus stated plainly as he started pulling off your holster and placing it on the counter. Then your belt was the next to go. “Sylus- wha?” You said burning with embarrassment as he pulled your shirt up. Though not stopping him either way. “Arms up.” He instructed, obviously you complied nodding and lifting your arms as your shirt was pulled off and discarded on the floor next to his.
“Fuck, perfect aren’t you?” Going in for the kiss Sylus leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. While his hands started to unhook your bra and throw it god knows where in the bathroom. Pulling away as he went to pull your pants off. “We’re doing this?” You asked as your pussy clenched around nothing realizing how empty you felt. He pushed you against the sink counter trapping you against him. Your hands clenched the edge of the marble counter.
“You’d think I’d be doing this if we weren’t?” Sylus gave a slight smile as you were only in your underwear. “Ah, naughty girl hm?” He said amused once he saw that your underwear was red lace with a small bow at the top. “Shut up.”
Was the only thing you could muster up as you watched him pull his towel off. Fuck. He was big, not that you were expecting any less but damn the length along could make your eyes roll back. Though his girth was perfect size.
Sylus pushed your panties to the side as he slowly lined himself up. “Fuck- no prep?” You asked looking down at his cock that was about to breach your entrance. “Don’t worry you can handle it.” Saying that made you even wetter, which you didn’t know that was possible.
Slowly Sylus pushed himself inside as your walls tightened around him. “Fuck,” he hissed as you threw your head back letting out a low moan. After getting used to his length he started to pull out then thrust back inside slowly.
“Sylus,-“ Your hand gripped his bicep as you took a deep breath. The sensation was overwhelming. Like he was made to fuck you and only you. You yelped once Sylus started picking up the pace every thrust made your body go weak.
Suddenly slowing down he pulled himself out out and turned you around to face the mirror. “Sylu- Fuc..Fuck!” You groaned as he plunged back into your tight pussy. His hand grabbed your chin making you look into the mirror. Your hands pressed against the cool glass trying to steady yourself. “Look at my little whore, hm? How pretty.”
Looking at yourself in the mirror made you want to scream. Every rough snap from his hips made your tits bounce and pushed your body forward. His grip on your chin tighten as he stared back at you through the mirror. You watched as he started to bite and create hickeys on your perfect skin. Finally a heat pooled that the bottom off your stomach as you shook your head. “Close… Fuck so close!”
You whined as Sylus started to rub your clit. “Cum for me then, kitten.” He said close to your ear as his red eyes studied your face. Sylus was memorized how beautiful your face was when you finally came for him. Hands still pressed against the mirror as you finally calmed down letting air flow through your nose.
“What… what about you?” You muttered as Sylus didn’t get to cum. “Who said we’re done kitten?” He replied back with a laugh.
Hey guys! It’s been awhile since I’ve last posted 😭 But I’m back and ready to write more! This is from the game love and deepspace and it’s based off of Rafayel’s branch in the story ‘Land of the secret flame. Hope you enjoy!
Paring - Rafayel x F!reader
Warnings - Fingering, Creampies, Ect.
Genre - Smut.
Normally you’d carry out a mission from the Hunters Association flawlessly or as close to flawless as you could. Five minutes earlier you asked Rafayel to be your partner in crime, fitting because he’s wanted in the N109 Zone. Now you and Rafayel are pressed against the wall as the guards turn corners.
“Take a left at 3594, go up the stairs, and then take another left before walking to 4136. Go through the side door and cross the terrance that’s how’ll we’ll get to the security room.”
You mumbled to Rafayel as you got ready to run down the ships hallway. His hand pressed against the small of your back behind you.
“And you’re sure we won’t get caught by the guards patrolling?”
“Positive, besides I’m not doing this by myself.”
Suddenly footsteps could be heard walking towards you and Rafayel with familiar voices. Getting closer and about the round the corner you can tell who one of the voices belonged to. Maxwell. ‘What’s he doing here.’ You thought as Rafayle pulled a hatch open from the ships floor and pulled you in.
“Hurry in here.”
The space below the deck and cramped and small the only light illuminating the small room is the red led emergency light. You and Rafayel having to stay close together is a safer option as to not make noise to alert the others and honestly there wasn’t any room to even move around, let alone get any space between the two of you.
You’re body stiffened as you felt Rafayel hard on press against your lower abdomen. You clear your throat and tried to focus on the conversation that’s happening above you but you couldn’t. His breath heavy as you shifted to get comfortable.
“Is the passcode about to change?”
Rafayel said as he moved his left arm to rest it behind you in the clutter of boxes.
“It’s alright we have maybe seven, eight minutes.”
You replied back in a small whisper. Your legs are have started to feel numb. Pushing yourself against Rafayel’s cock. Hearing him groan in your ear makes your body shiver and pause in your track. Pressing your legs together you suddenly feel the need to have something fill you up.
“Sorry, I’ve been trying to hold back.”
His hand slowly moved to grab your waist. His head dipped down to your shoulder. Sucking in a deep breath you nodded.
“I… do you need help?”
You whispered against the shell off his ear. Feeling him nods against your shoulder make you instantly wet. Your eyes look up to the hatch door still voices. ‘Damn it. Still there.’ You thought as you felt his slender fingers slip up your dress and pressed against your panties. The fabric absorbing your slick as he rubbed his fingers against it.
“Can’t they talk about their everyday lives somewhere else?”
He whispered annoyed as your mind started to fail you. The situation was so lewd and wrong in so many different ways.
“R-Rafayel.”
Bucking your hips into his fingers. Knowing what you want he pushes aside your underwear and slips a finger inside.
“Like that?”
Your head leaned back as I bit your lip to silence your moans. Slipping another finger in and curling them in just the right place. God. he really did know how to work you open. Moving your hips with the thrusted of his fingers muddled your thoughts. Forgetting why you were even down there in the first place. Though it wasn’t exactly enough your hand rose to tangle your fingers in his hair as you choked on a moan.
“I need you. God please.”
“Fuck, I know.”
He said as you heard the click of his belt and the rustling of his pants falling. Your eyes look down the red glow being your only source of light. You let out a nervous laugh as you see his cock.
“You think that’s going to fit?”
“Better in this form than my Lemurian one.”
You watched as he stroked his cock. It was big and girthy with a curve. You would’ve got on your knees in a heartbeat if there was room to do so. As he lines himself up with your entrance you hand grabbed his forearm preparing yourself. Slowly he breaches your entrance and pushes himself all way in. Leaning forward Rafayel leaves kisses against your neck nipping and biting at your soft skin.
You nodded singling that he could move. Slowly he pulls himself leaving the tip in then thrust back inside making you groan. Bitting his shoulder to control yourself.
“You’re tight, and warm.”
He says drowning in pleasure as he continues to thrust inside of you. His hips snapping forward then back in a repeating motion. The knot in your stomach was getting to be to much to handle.
“Raf..Rafayel!”
You choked out to warn him how you were so so close. His grunts filled your ears as his thumb circles your clit. ‘Fuck it’s to much.’ You name flows out his mouth like a mantra as his other hand wrapps around your waist finally the knot in your stomach releases as he fill you up with is cum.
Basking in the after glow he laughed gently. As sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Well.. that’s- something.”
You rolled your eyes as you finally realized that you missed the opening to get to the safe. Groaning as you had one change to get to the necklace. Rafayel pulled you closer and breathed into your dress.
“Don’t worry you’ll have another chance to get your readings or whatever. Just relax.”
Anywho! You can also find this in AO3!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I've haven't been posting a lot. But I have a Ao3 account! And I've been cross-posting some of my fics on here to there. But I made a Scaramouche fic on my Ao3 account and I wanted to post it here! Enjoy!!!
Paring - Top! Scaramouche x Fem Reader
Warnings - Cream pie, Vagina fingering, Chocking.
Genre - Smut!
The sixth harbinger was know as a very cold, and arrogant man. Some of his underlings would even describe him as egotistical, self-serving, and inconsiderate. Of course they'll never tell him that to his face ever.
But away from his office and his title as sixth harbinger. His name is just Scaramouche your very hot headed boyfriend.
It was finally the day you came home from fontaine. It was a two week traveling period while the other week was dedicated to the quest. You've always enjoyed helping others out who needed it but this month took a toll on your body. While you were away stress began to speep into your muscles. All you wanted to go was go home and cuddle up to your boyfriend.
You smiled as you opened the door to your house. The familiarity of the interior of the house caused your shoulders drop. The relaxing scent of lavender and pine filled your nostrils quickly. You had to hand it to Scaramouche he kept the house neat and tidy while you where gone. Setting your bag down and placing your shoes on the rack; you finally walked into the living room.
"Scaramouche?"
Your voice echoed through the home. Without a answer your feet led you into the kitchen to find no-one there. You shrugged and grabbed a apple off the counter and took a bite. When your teeth sunk into the apple you felt hands wrap around your waist causing you to jump.
"I'm surprised you're still alive."
A smile appeared on your face as you turned around and looked at him. Naturally your arms wrapped around him. The embrace lasted two minutes before he pulled away and looked at your face in annoyance.
"Did you climb out of a coffin? You look horrible."
He brought his and up and flicked you swiftly on the forehead with a glare.
"I'm so glad you missed me, Scara."
"Don't mistake my observation for affection."
"Just say you've missed me."
With that sentence he shut his mouth and locked eyes with you. Irritated being called out he sighed in defeat.
"I've missed you."
A satisfying feeling washed over your body as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him the apple you were eating obviously long forgotten. Getting the hint Scaramouche grabbed your waist and chased after your lips. The kiss was desperate. So much desire was put into the kiss your knees started to feel weak. He disconnected the kiss but he didn't go very far his lips hovering over yours. You could feel his hot breath hit your lips as he spoke.
"Bedroom."
It was one simple word but man it made you feel as if you had to obey. Lips connecting for the second time while navigating to the your shared bedroom was supposed to be a easy task or so you thought. Bumping into wall while trying to take of Scaramouche shirt was difficult. His hands ran and explored your body. You forgot how much you missed the feeling of his hands run down your waist. feeling every part of your body; groping your ass while his tongue explored your mouth.
Finally making it to the bed room Scaramouche turned and pushed you backwards knees hitting the bed frame making you fall and land on the bed. He finally got onto the bed crawling over you. Getting comfortable in his position, his hands ran up and down your sides as he stared sucking and kissing your neck. "You've missed me haven't you?"
He spoke in a demanding tone. His teeth sunk into your neck leaving bruises and bite marks. A moan escaped your lips head nodding vigorously. A sadist laugh left him as he brought his hand up to squeeze your breast.
"I've bet you've been touching yourself, Yeah?"
Its true you've missed him since you've been in Fontaine and yes. You might had touched yourself but couldn't completely get off. Not without him you needed his fingers they had always hit the right places yours just couldn't. Leaving you sexually frustrated with yourself. Leaving you wonder if you should had invested in a vibrator. But of course Scaramouche would tease you to no wits end and most likely use it as some sort of punishment. Then blame you for buying it so of course you wouldn't buy one. So you couldn't let him know you've been touching yourself. Not a chance in hell.
"N-No I've been good."
You sucked in a breath as his hand slid down to the waist band of your panties. His hand playing with the material. He knew you wanted something to fill you up. But quite like every time you lied; he knew. The universe was really against you, wasn't it? His tongue clicked when he looked down at you.
"So my little whore is going to lie to me. Haven't I trained you better?"
You nodded remember all the times he's punished you for your disobedience. Quickly you felt the slick in between your legs worsening. He could see your panties get worse with arousal. A soft whine escaped your lips as he smiled down at you. His fingers lifted the waist band of your panties up and let the material snap back down hitting your skin. Your hips jumped up as your eyes locked into his.
"Answer the question."
His voice was sadistic and raspy. A gasped escape your lips as he placed his hand over your throat and lightly squeezed. "Yes, Yes... I touched myself Scara please.." You whined.
He really was unbearable when he pressed his covered cock against your clothed pussy and started grinding. The shock of pleasure ran through your body. Throwing your head back and groaning. But that wasn't enough you needed more. Lifting your hips to get more friction only to be held down on the mattress by Scaramouche.
"Please... Please."
Waiting was unbearable as tears pricked in your eyes.
"Please what? I don't know what you're asking for. Use your words."
Another whine louder this time escape your throat as you looked up at him.
"Touch me."
He laughed amused ripping off your underwear and finally giving you what you really need. He entered a digit into your tight cunt. Back arching off the bed hands grabbing onto the sheets underneath you for purchase. It was like you haven't been fuck in two years. "H-Huh uh.. Just like that.." Letting out a breathy sentence.
"Oh fucks sakes, You're so tight."
He added another finger curling them to hit all the right spots. It was like he knew every single one of your sensitive parts by heart. His fingers constantly moving in and out of your pussy at a steady rate. Finally taking his fingers out and spitting onto them. Already knowing what he was doing you opened your mouth as he stuck his fingers inside. With his other hand he pulled off his pants and underwear and plunged inside you without warning.
A muffled scream came from your mouth. Scaramouche three fingers still very much inside your mouth as your tongue swirled around them. He didn't take a minute for you to adjust he slammed into you like a damn train and kept going. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head already and he had just stared. His hips snapped harshly against yours.
"This is what you wanted, yeah? Fucking whore."
Your brain was failing you. Sentences wouldn't come out coherently. His breath hit your ear when he leaned down. Hearing his grunts and groans was music to your ears. Clamping down on his cock you felt him twitch.
"Just like that, I'm gonna cum."
Nodding your head and grabbed onto his biceps.
"Please, please... Mhf- Holy Archo-..ns"
The heat that pooled into your stomach was ready to release. As soon as you cam He did as well. He didn't even stop. His hand wrapped around your throat once more and squeezed. His cum getting stuffed back inside you while getting mixed in with yours. His thrust where mind numbing. Your pussy clenched even harder as you were getting sensitive. Hitting his shoulder to indicate that.
"Scaramouche! Can't- No more."
"Give me one more. I know you can do it."
He brought his lips to yours as he kissed you once more. You felt your second orgasm hit like a wave. Without muttering anything you came again. His thrust where turning sloppy and uneven trying to chase his own oragasm. A few minutes after yours his hit finally ending your suffering.
He dropped down next to you and started to catch his breath while you did the same.
"Are you okay?"
"Never been better..."
You breathed trying to catch your breath. He smiled at your response and grabbed your waist to bring you closer to him. Covering the both of you with a blanket while your head rested on his chest. Slowly His fingers started drawing circles on your bare back. Scaramouche leaned in once he saw your eyes closed and whispered.
"I missed you." He spoke softly as he kissed your forehead.
My Ao3 account -> 000Yuri_Yuzuka000
Loved you guys! I'll try to post more! That being said my request are open ❤
Y'all are eating good this week. So Neuvillette is going ice skating! I don't know if it snows in Fontaine but one of his voice lines said something about snow? So I'm guessing it dose. ALSO this is a original idea but its inspired by a c.ai chat I found! So all credit to that lovely person who made the bot anyways enjoy! (Don't come after me if it doesn't snow.)
Paring - Neuvillette x Gn reader
Warnings - None
Genre - fluff, Romance
It wasn't common when your boyfriend Neuvillette had a day off. So you'd used this one wisely. Of course it was winter season in Fontaine so why not ice skate with your beloved? It took a lot and you mean a lot of convincing for him to finally go ice skating with you. It all started when you wanted to par take in some Christmas traditions. You guys decorated your shared house with.. difficulty. But the tree looked nice and of course Neuwvillette wouldn't have the tree up if it didn't.
A small grin played on your face as you two stood on Fontaines great lake. You were the first to step on the ice checking it then with little difficulty you pushed yourself on the ice. Finally turning around to look at Neuvillette to only find him struggling on the ice. Despite his usual serious and well put together demeanor he actually had very, very, very poor balance causing him to struggle.
"My love, I don't think this is one of my specialiti-ES!" The last part came out as a yell as he fell on his backside. You finding it hilarious bend over and started laughing at his fail attempt to skate. "Dearest are you okay?" You obviously taking slight pauses in that sentence to control your laughter. He let out a groan as he sat up now sitting on the ice with a frown looking up at you as you stake to his recuse. "I'm fine, it's just that.." he lets out a groan, and his face completely drains of color. "The cold temperatures.. my balance— it’s terrible, I’ve.. never quite grasped how to skate on ice." He rubs his backside as you held your hand out with a soft smile on your face. "Don't worry my dear Cheif of justice! I shall teach you." You pulled him up to his feet with a grin. His gaze soften as he looked over your features. His hand squeezed your for a brief moment before letting go. "Your falling because your standing straight." You pointed out with a giggle only to see Neuvillette's brows furrowed with confusion. "But your standing straight up..?" You smiled then looped your arms with his explaining that bending your knees will help him with his movement and control and that you didn't need to bend your knees because you've been doing this for a long time. He nodded as you began to skate slowly so he could get used to the feeling of the skates.
He takes the advice, and begins moving his feet much more efficiently. He’s still not very graceful with his motions tripping every few moments but he can at least balance himself enough to look like he knows what he’s doing. Once you loosen your arm from his he clings to you like your his life force. A laugh erupted from your throat as his feet slips and scraps the ice. "Don't-" "But you were doing so good." His grip tighten in your arm with a frown. His eyes shifted to his feet as he stumbled again. "Don’t laugh," He looked at you in embarrassment. "It’s the ice— i don’t know why it’s so difficult but it is. i’m normally good… on normal ground, of course." he’s still grasping your arm to maintain his balance. You laughed again as you scooted close as you could to help him glide across the ice. "I suppose ice skating isn't your strong suit." You said with a teasing grin plastered on your face.
"I don’t understand how children can pick this up easier than I can." He makes a slightly annoyed expression, but quickly looks back to you and chuckles. His gaze smooth over the icy lake once as he finally let's go of your hand. You started swaying back and forth like you were skating along with a melody of a song. "I never used to be his good." You smiled as he looked at you bewildered that you had said that. His eyebrows raised a bit. "You weren’t?" He looked at you with disbelief. "That’s quite surprising. with the grace you exude in all of your movements, i assumed you’ve been practicing your whole life." You hummed with that statement you thought it wise to show off your moves a bit. Gracefully gliding on the ice with the soft smile that played on your lips. He marveled at how your feet weaved in and out of each other, your body spun as you moved across the ice. Your moves flawless and graceful as you completed one lap around him you smiled as you finally skated back to him. "I suppose I'm oka- GAH!" Of course as archons forbids you look good or rather try to impress the Hydro Dragon with your skating abilities. But yet there you were on your ass looking up at him with a frown as a groan escaped your lips.
He lets out an unheld laugh at that. "What’s the matter, Dear, losing your balance? Perhaps you’re just as uncoordinated as I am." He chuckles as now it was his turn to help you off the ice. "My balance is perfectly fine, you distracted me!" You accused him with the point of your finger and a grin as you stood up and wiped your pants off. He laughed at your statement so clearly confidence that he had so called 'distracted you'. "Mhm, of course you’ll blame me. I’m such a distraction, aren’t I?" His tone shifted to amused as glint appears in his eyes. You looked at his award winning smile and instantly melted feeling warm inside even though it was quite cold. You rolled your eyes as the frown that was once on your face quickly turned into a playful one. "Yes you are, your too handsome for your own good." He laughed at his and held his arm out for you to take which you gladly did. He begins gliding with you across the lake. Arms never leaving each others.
"I love Christmas traditions, even if I can’t grasp all of them." He smiles down at you, his expression turning more content. There was a brief silences for minutes no conversation just you and him upon the icy lake you nor him didn't feel the need to fill the silence either. It wasn't tense or awkward it was comfortable and relaxing. You rested your head on his shoulder you felt his body relax once you leaned onto him. Then he spoke up "I truly enjoy every single thing about this season. Especially spending it with you." Without warning he stopped in the middle of the lake. A smile spread across your lips like it had did so many times today. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." His gloved hand gently lifted your face to meet your gaze. He held your chin moving his face closer to yours his thumb slid across your bottom lip. His gaze shifted to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission.
Of course he didn't need to ask. Neuvillette sighed completely at peace within this moment. His hand that was once previously on your chin moved to cup your face, He brought his other hand to caress your cheek, running his thumb slowly along it. He presses against you slowly bringing his head down. No words were exchanged when he kissed you. Your lips connected Both with closed eyes you wrapped your arms around his neck. In return his hands slowly moved up and down your back before finally settling them wrapped around you.
He didn't let go of the kiss somehow pulling you impossibly closer then you two already were. If you wanted his attention you now had it everything was focused on you. He felt warm inside like the cold air had just vanished. Soon pulling away you opened your eyes looking at him with a smile tug at the corners of your lips. When he opened his eyes it was like he was in heaven everything about you was perfect your nose, your hair, your eyes, everything. "Apologies, that was quite bold of me, sorry you felt uncomf-" You suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him down in for another kiss. Not wanting him to apologize for anything. This kiss didn't lasted as long as the first one but it was still very enjoyable. "I enjoyed it.. I enjoy any time I get to spend with you." He smiled briefly as he looked at you pushing hair out of your face. "As do I, but I don't want to make the wrong move theses emotions are still new to me." You pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. "I'll be here if you need a shoulder to cry on, my dear Hydro Dragon." He chucked at your statement and pulled away to flick you on the forehead. "Hey- Ouch!" "What had I said about calling me that, Chéri?" You groan and looked at him. "But it's your name isn't it?" He rolled his eyes and kiss you once more. "I'm not fond of that name."
You grabbed his hand and looked across the lake. The sun was now setting, the ice glisten. Fog rolled into the icy lake as you enjoyed the scene before you. Everything was perfect, the way the sun outlined his features. His white hair shining with ease, he was perfect. "Neuvillette" you called for his attention as you watched the sun set behind the horizon. "Hm?" He hummed in response. "I love you. Even when my time runs out in this realm.. My heart will always yearn for you." He looked at you in shocked. Like he never heard you say something like that. He never understood emotions but he understood that the statement you made shouldn't be taking lightly. "I.. I love you as well. Every day when I wake next to you I wonder how This.. Us came to be."
Yes , Monsieur Neuvillette had told you he loved you that night and he meant every word that left his lips.
Okay so I did it! This was really fun! I was really glad I had his idea and acted on it! Two post in the time spam of a week! I think I'm doing pretty good. Request are open unless stated otherwise! Love you guys!
This isn't going to be as long I promise. So Neuvillette the is a new character I adore! So why not write about him? Anyways enjoy!
Paring - Neuvillette x Gn reader
Warnings - None
Genre - Fluff & Romance
Great, it was raining again for the fifth time in a row? Normally when you were a child you would wonder out in the rain chanting faithful to make the rain stop. "Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry!" It was like a second religion, a prayer if you will. Now finally as an adult and dating the chief of Justice, you found it silly you look back on those memories and smile to yourself.
You and Neuvillette and had been dating for two years. Last month is when he finally grasped the courage to tell you about the real 'Hydro Dragon'. The one you've been so called praying about throughout your whole childhood. Of course it was a shock but after awhile it made sense or you just had finally gotten used to the fact your dating a person so divine and out of your lead.
Now walking down the streets of Fontaine with your umbrella clutched into your hand as rain poured more heavily had became second nature these past few days.
It was always a good thing dating the Iudex. Because you'd always knew every time when he was upset or grieving. Now knowing very well he's most likely not in the mood to talk but nonetheless you would always try for him. Finally making your way through the Palais Mermonia halls. Stopping in front of his office door with your black umbrella in your hand as the other knocks on his door with one swift motion. "Come in." Was muffled through the door as you opened it. "Neuvillette?" You walked inside the office as you closed the door behind you, leaning your umbrella on the wall as you made your way to his desk. He only looked up for a brief moment before looking back down. His quill moving quickly on the piece of paper in front of him. "Hm? [Y/n] and what do I owe the pleasure?" Even though in the privacy of his office he still was a very serious man. Maybe it was the nerves? Or the way you hated thunder storms, but this encounter with your boyfriend seemed tense.
"I asked Sedene what you had been up to." Your gaze settled on the window behind him. Your legs moved on there own and stop next to it looking out. Maybe talking about the weather would bring it out of him? "Ah, the weather has been.. inadequate lately hasn't it?" His strict demeanor lighten up with your attempt. "Yes I suppose it has." You frown then crossed your arms as you looked at him. He knew you were burning holes into the back of his head, he wasn't going to give up that easily though. "My love?" He called for your attention. "Hm?" Your gaze settled on the rain slowing down ever so slightly. "If you wanted to ask me how I felt... is pointing out the obvious the way to go about it?" He asked in a amused tone. Your shoulders dropped as you sighed in defeat and walked behind his chair and draped your arms over his shoulders then linking your hands together. "Was it obvious?" He chuckled and leaned back enjoying your warmth. "Very" You placed your chin on his shoulder.
"So then, Why is my Hydro Dragon sad?" Neuvillette's gaze settled on the ceiling. It was silent for some time indicating he didn't want to talk about it. You moved and started running your fingers through his hair. "Bad day." He mumbled closing his eyes at the feeling. You were his safe place, someone he could come to when he was upset. His shoulders relaxed is breathing slowed just enjoying the feeling of your hands through his hair. The way your nails gently scraped his scalp. He'd wish he could stop time and relive this moment over and over and over again
Yes, maybe today or the past five days weren't the best for him. But he'd always, always find time for you. And you'd always have time for him even on the worst moments. You turned his chair around to face him. Capturing his lips into a sweet and passionate kiss. His hand made itself home on the back of your neck while the other grabbed your waist pulling you into him.
"Yet I'm always amazed how you stole my heart in the first place."
Tell me why I struggled?? 😭 So anyways it might be bad I haven't gotten motivation lately but I thought his was cute! Anyways request are always open unless said. LOVE YOU GUYS!! ❤
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