✰ summary: A world in which you’re the fictional character and Levi is a real person.
✰ tags: Canon universe, levi is a self-shipper, fluff
✰ word count: 0.5k
˗ˏˋ AO3 ˎˊ˗
There’s a popular novel in Paradis right now. Everyone is aware of it, including the Scouts. There’s also one thing they all know: Levi is a huge fan of a character from that book.
Not even the main character, just a side character.
Hange once asked him, “Why do you like that character so much? What if the author kills her next?”
Levi immediately glared at them. “Watch your mouth, Four-Eyes.” He doesn’t play around when it comes to you.
The series is still ongoing. A few characters have already died, and he will not let the author kill you too. He has the writer’s home address written down, just in case.
In Levi’s room, he has his tea collection on the left side and books and drawings of you on the right. He doesn’t know how to draw, so he secretly hired someone who does in order to see what you look like. Just as he had imagined, you’re perfect. He always looks at your face every night before going to sleep and every morning before leaving for work.
There was also a time when Levi read a scene in which a guy was trying to flirt with you. It annoyed him so much that he wanted to jump into the book so that he could take care of him. He felt a huge sense of relief when the guy died five chapters later.
In truth, you’re not really interested in romance or finding a partner. That’s a good thing because he’s free to imagine all kinds of scenarios in which he’s with you.
The author will release the new book in six months, so Levi has to wait in the meantime. He knows he isn’t the only one who likes your character, and that’s when he discovers something after catching Jean reading a book.
“Why are you smiling like an idiot?” he asked, which made Jean instantly put the book aside and stand up, looking at him.
“C-captain.”
“Training has already started, and you’re back here doing some shit.”
“Sorry, Captain. I’ll get going now!” Jean ran away before Levi could scold him any further. Now, he is left standing there with the book on the floor, which he picks up.
He opens it and starts reading the first part, surprised to see your name there. He checks the cover to see whether the author has released a new book, but it isn’t the same one; a different person wrote it. The story focuses more on romance, with you as the main character, while the love interest is not a named character but the reader, in this case, Levi. He has never read anything like this before, and he wants more of it.
He takes it with him to his room, unaware that Jean will later return to retrieve it, only to find that it's already gone.
Later that night, he properly reads the whole thing. When he reaches the scene in which the two of you kiss for the first time, his cheeks grow warm, and he has to close the book to calm himself down for a moment.
Levi absolutely loves it, and from that day on, he learns the word “fanfic.”
Frank presses your legs back hard, folding you nearly in half until your knees frame your ears. The stretch burns sweet in your hips. He’s heavy over you, chest to chest, forehead locked against yours so every ragged breath you take is shared.
He's buried to the root. Every brutal snap of his hips drives him deeper, the wet slap of skin loud in the quiet room. He doesn’t ease up. He keeps pounding, grinding the head of his dick against the softest, deepest place inside you on every thrust until your body jerks and clenches around him. “Look at me,” he grunts, voice rough, eyes locked on yours. Dark, intense, unblinking. “Don’t you fucking look away.”
You can’t. Not with the way he’s staring into you while he wrecks you. His forehead stays pressed to yours, sweat sliding between your skin. Another hard thrust bottoms him out completely and a low, broken groan rumbles out of him straight into your mouth.
“Fuck—” He snarls it against your lips, hips slamming harder, faster, driving you into the mattress with every stroke. The bedframe complains. Your body takes every inch, stretched open and held open, nowhere to go but deeper under him.
He keeps grinding in deep, forehead glued to yours, eyes never leaving yours while he pounds you through it—grunting, groaning, fucking you like he needs to crawl inside your skin and stay there.
Alex Wright as a famous film director who directs some... Questionable things. A few tasteless movies, some shitty gore that gets him hard, but his favourite are the horrible pornos he makes you star in. When he first offers one of his roles to you you're so excited, working for THE Alex Wright?! It's any actors dream, but the things you start in are more underground. Things he posts privately that would definitely ruin his career. But he can't help himself you look so good, especially in his new film with a gun pointed at you. He's never been so hard in his life, he can't wait until he films the shooting scene. He knows he'll cum instantly
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
word count: 3k
warning: red henley bucky | fluff | smut (not going into heavy details but it's fully smut)
summary: bucky loves his red henley but reader loves it even more.
The first time you saw Bucky Barnes in that red Henley, you nearly tripped over a stack of Steve’s sketchbooks left carelessly on the common room floor.
It was a deep rich cranberry red. Soft, worn thin at the collar and hugging his thick arms and broad chest but just low enough, right around his waist, it stretched with a soft forgiving yield over the slight, comfortable curve of his stomach.
You knew what the rest of his body was made of, hardened through decades of war and trauma and relentless training even brutal survival. Yet somehow, that tiny soft detail underneath the faded cotton made him feel human.
Real. Grounded. Lovable in a way that made your throat tight.
You’d always been a bit bigger than the average S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
Not slow nor soft but strong in a way that didn’t carve itself into sharp, visible muscle definition. Your strength was forged through stubbornness, pure physical endurance and careful precision. You were tall enough that you weren’t usually dwarfed by the people around you.
Except by Bucky.
Bucky made everyone look small.
He towered over you even when he was slouching against the kitchen counter at 6:00 AM, arms crossed over his chest and a cocky little grin hidden behind his steaming coffee mug. When he leaned against the wall just behind you in the narrow hallway, close enough that you could feel the radiant furnace like heat from his chest through your hoodie, you felt tiny.
He loved to joke about it, too. He’d use that low, gravelly Brooklyn voice that had never quite shed the winter chill or the rhythm of the 1940s.
“Careful, doll, I might step on ya.”
“You sure you can handle that whole sandwich on your own? Need me to cut it up for ya?”
“Need me to carry you upstairs? You look like a strong gust of wind might blow you right out the window.”
You always rolled your eyes, scoffing amd calling him an arrogant ass. But inside? You melted into a puddle every single time.
And Bucky? He didn’t say it out loud, but he savored every annoyed scoff, every time you smacked his metal forearm with a hand that didn’t hurt him at all. Every time you narrowed your eyes at him with a poorly hidden smirk.
You were fire and gentleness all wrapped up in a package he had convinced himself he’d never deserve. Not after Hydra. Not after decades of blood, terror and icy silence. He had long given up on the idea that someone would laugh with him again. He certainly didn’t think someone like you would quietly sneak into his thoughts at night, curling up in the dark cracks of his heart like you had always belonged there.
You caught him that morning stretched out on the living room sofa, his long legs spread wide, his red henley rumpled and riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin above the waist of his dark sweatpants. He was leaning back against the cushions, metal and flesh fingers lazily tapping against the worn dog tags resting on his sternum.
The morning sunlight caught the gleaming plates of his left arm, but your eyes didn’t track the chrome. You looked right at his waist. At the soft subtle swell of his stomach, rising and falling in deep, peaceful rhythm. He looked like a man who was finally, for the first time in eighty years, safe enough to rest.
You were staring.
You couldn’t help it.
“I can feel your eyes on me, y’know,” Bucky drawled without bother to open his own. He sounded half-asleep, entirely smug. “What’s the matter, doll? Never seen a man relax before?”
You flushed instantly, your gaze snapping violently toward the wall. “Just wondering how you haven’t busted the seams of that shirt yet,” you shot back, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.
He cracked one blue eye open, glancing down at the stretched red fabric covering his ribs and belly. A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Guess it just likes me.”
“I like you too,” you muttered under your breath before your brain could filter the words.
His dark eyebrow arched up toward his hairline. “Sorry, what was that?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
He chuckled, sitting up slowly. The movement made the hem of the shirt rise even higher, revealing the dark line of hair trailing down his stomach into his sweatpants. You looked away again, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“You always get so shy when I’m wearing this shirt,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, low and heavy with teasing promise.
You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.
It was Sam’s idea.
A heavy sparring session in the gym to get your reflexes back up to speed after a short mission hiatus. You hadn’t been thrilled about it to begin with, but you were even less thrilled when Sam got called away for a briefing halfway through, leaving Bucky to step onto the mat to fill in.
“You sure?” You asked, hands on your hips, eyeing his massive frame. He was wearing his usual black tactical tank top, shoulders gleaming with sweat. “I don’t want to break you, Barnes.”
That earned you a real grin toothy, sharp, and entirely playful. “I’m quaking in my boots, sweetheart,” he said. He reached down, grabbed the faded red Henley hanging over the gym bench, and pulled it over his head.
Of course.
You sparred.
He teased.
You lost the first round when he swept your legs out from under you.
You won the second by catching him off balance with a elbow to his kidney but during the third round, he caught both of your wrists in one smooth, sweeping motion, driving you back into the soft matting.
He pinned you effortlessly.
Your wrists were trapped over your head beneath the solid weight of his metal hand. He hovered directly over you, his chest heaving against yours, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. His body was heavy and dense, a solid metal and muscle, but he controlled every ounce of his weight so precisely that he didn’t hurt you.
He just grounded you. Locked you in place beneath him.
Your breath hitched. Your heart thundered in your ears like a war drum.
Bucky looked down at you for a beat too long. The smirk faded from his face, replaced by a dark, intense heat that made your blood burn. “You’re dangerous,” he whispered, his heavy chest pressing down against yours with every intake of air.
“So are you,” you managed to reply, your voice barely audible over the hum of the gym’s ventilation.
He stared at your lips for three agonizing seconds before rolling off you, landing flat on his back beside you on the mat. He stared up at the high ceiling, his chest rising and falling with something that had nothing to do with physical exertion.
The Avengers compound was completely silent late at night, lit only by the low hum of the refrigerator and the pale blue moonlight pouring through the kitchen floor to ceiling windows. You were standing by the counter in your shorts and an oversized tee, waiting for a mug of chamomile tea to steep, lost in your own head.
Bare feet padded softly against the hardwood behind you.
You turned.
It was Bucky.
In the red henley.
Again.
“Seriously,” you said, leaning back against the counter and trying to ignore the sudden wave of warmth crawling up your neck and pooling in your low belly. “How many of those shirts do you actually own?”
“Just one,” he said softly, leaning against the opposite counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wear it when I need to feel… safe.”
That gave you pause. You lowered your mug, really looking at him. His eyes weren’t teasing now. They were soft, clear blue, completely bare and vulnerable in a way he almost never allowed himself to be around anyone else.
“It smells like home,” he added, his voice dropping into a quiet confession meant only for the quiet kitchen. “Or… like you.”
You blinked, frozen. “Wait... what?”
He looked sheepish, reaching up with his right hand to rub the back of his neck. “You borrowed it once. Remember? After that nightmare mission in Norway. You were soaked to the bone, freezing, and looking like you’d punch Steve in the mouth if he tried to make you wear anything tactical again. I gave you this shirt.”
You remembered. You hadn’t even realized it was that shirt.
“Even after washing it, it seems to keep your scent,” he said, his eyes fixing on yours with intense sincerity. “I just… I liked it better that way. Started wearing it whenever I felt the winter coming back into my head.”
Your throat felt tight. “Bucky…”
“I know you think I just tease you for fun,” he said quickly, stepping forward. The distance between you closed in three slow, deliberate strides until he was standing right in your space. “And I do... don’t get me wrong... but it’s not just a game... not for me.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
“I like you,” Bucky said, his voice thick with unsaid years. “Hell, I know I love you. I didn’t think I could feel something like that again. I sure as hell didn’t think I’d ever say it out loud but there it is.”
You stared at the man who had been broken by the world, torn apart and pieced back together, standing in front of you in a worn red shirt offering you every piece of himself he had managed to reclaim.
You set your mug down on the counter behind you with a small clink. You reached up, placing your palms against his warm jaw.
“I thought I was the only one,” you whispered, pulling him down just a fraction. “Crushing. Falling. Losing my mind over you.”
Bucky exhaled a sharp, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your skin against his. “You’re not,” he choked out. “You never were, doll.”
You pulled his face down and kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t desperate.
It was deep, warm and full of every unspoken thought that had lingered between you in hallways, kitchens and gym mats for months. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his. He held you like you were precious, even though he knew you were strong enough to take on the world. You gripped the soft cotton of his red shirt, tugging him closer, holding him like he was fragile even though you knew he was made of steel.
His tongue slid slowly past your lips, tasting you deeply. Alow rumble echoing in his chest when you let out a soft sigh against his mouth. His metal hand found the small of your back, pressing firmly, lifting you up slightly so you had to wrap your legs around his waist.
He didn’t break the kiss as he carried you effortlessly out of the kitchen, down the dim corridor, and into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the city lights outside his window. Bucky set you down on the edge of his bed, but he didn’t pull away. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, raising his eyebrows in silent request. You nodded, breathing heavily and he pulled the shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor.
His eyes swept over you, over every curve and every inch of smooth skin. The look in his eyes wasn’t just desire, it was reverence.
“You are so beautiful,” he rasped, his metal fingers tracing a light, agonizingly hot trail down your side, lingering over the swell of your hip. “So fucking strong. Perfect.”
He grabbed the bottom of the red henley and pulled it off, tossing it aside.
Without the barrier of the worn cotton, your hands immediately found his chest, sliding over the hard muscle of his pecs, down over his ribs, and resting on the soft warm curve of his stomach. Bucky tensed for a split second, an old instinct like an urge to pull back, but as your thumb gently stroked his skin, he let out a long breath and sank into your touch, melting under your hands.
“I love this,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss the center of his chest, then down to his ribs, then planting a soft kiss right over his lower belly.
Bucky groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Doll… you’re gonna drive me out of my mind.”
He nudged you back onto the mattress, sliding his heavy body over yours. The heat off him was intoxicating. He kissed you until your breath came in shallow, desperate gasps, his hands exploring every part of you kneading your thighs, tracing your waist and thumbing your nipples into tight peaks until you were writhing underneath him.
When he reached down to strip away the rest of your clothes and his own, there was no hesitation left. He pushed your knees apart, settling himself between your thighs. His thick shaft brushed against your core, slick and hot, making you arch your back with a soft whimper.
“Look at me,” Bucky commanded softly, his voice thick with raw need.
You opened your eyes, meeting his intense, dark blue gaze.
“Get up.” He ordered you. You stood automatically. He took the red shirt he threw on the bed. The fabric soft between his fingers. “Wear it…”
You immediately stretched your arm, taking the henley. The soft material slid on your skin and his scent, still on the fabric, intoxicated your senses.
He sat better on the edge of the bed, opening his legs. He pinched the shirt and pulled you against him. His metal hand smoothed against your tight.
“You’re a vision with my shirt on…” his finger trailed the legs until reaching your ass. He gave you a loud smack and then slid his finger inside your core, already warm and welcoming.
You perched forward, bending on his shoulder. He gripped your waist with his flesh hand while the metal fingers made their way in and out of your pussy.
As you felt the pleasure rising, your core clenched. He removed his fingers.
“What?”
He picked you up without talking and put you on his lap. You trembling tights around his hips and the tip of his cock peaking out between you.
He took his length in his hand and pumped a little, then he slid into you in one smooth, agonizingly slow push.
You gasped, your fingers digging into the firm muscle of his shoulders as he filled you completely. The stretch was intense, heavy, and overwhelmingly good. He stayed still for a long moment, letting you adjust, his chest pressing against yours, his metal hand coming up to cup your cheek tenderly.
“You okay?” He whispered, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.
“More than okay,” you whimpered, tilting your hips up to meet him. “Bucky, please…”
He began to move.
His pace was unhurried at first. Deep, heavy thrusts that targeted every sensitive nerve inside you, driving a low continuous moan from your throat. He wasn’t rushing to finish, he was taking his time claiming every inch of you and listening to every hitch in your breath. The friction was incredible, his weight against your body as you rode him. He moved his hips with precision, as your pleasure was his only purpose in life. He gave you deep and firm thrust from below. His hands grabbed better your body. The henley between you as the only layers separating your skins.
As the pace picked up, the soft sound of skin slapping against his and your breathless cries filled the dark bedroom. Bucky’s rhythm grew faster, harder. His jaw clench, sweat glistening on his chest and foreheads. He locked his fingers with your left hand, pinning it behind your back, while his metal arm slid beneath your hips, lifting you higher to drive himself even deeper into you.
“Bucky... fuck...” you gasped, your toes curling as a tight coil of tension began to snap in your lower stomach.
“I’m right here, doll. I got you,” he growled near your ear, his breath hot against your neck. He struck a spot deep inside that made your vision flash white. “Give it to me. Let go.”
The pleasure broke over you like a wave. You cried out his name as your walls clamped down hard around him, pulsing in a deep agonizingly sweet release. Hearing your voice crack, feeling you shatter around him, pushed Bucky over the edge. With a harsh guttural groan, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go.
His whole body shuddering as he came inside you.
Later, much later, the room had cooled down.
You were curled on your side on the couch in his bedroom, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. The red henley still hung loosely off your shoulders, smelling of cedar and sweat and Bucky’s distinct scent.
Your fingers reached down, tracing slow, aimless circles over his stomach where the red fabric stretched over him as he lay beside you.
“You really do love this shirt, don’t you?” he murmured sleepily into your hair, his voice heavy with satisfaction.
“I like what’s in the shirt,” you corrected softly, turning your head to smile up at him.
He huffed a warm laugh against the back of your neck. “You’re terrible, doll.”
“I know.”
He was silent for a long moment. The rhythm of his heart beat steadily against your shoulder blades, calm and measured.
“Don’t ever leave, okay?” He whispered, the quiet vulnerability returning to his voice, stripped of all bravado. “Don’t go back to your own quarters. Stay here.”
You shifted, turning in his arms until you were facing him. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, right over the pulsing vein in his neck.
“Not even if you ask me to,” you promised.
Bucky smiled. A soft, beautiful and completely unburdened smile. He pulled the blanket up over both of your shoulders, tucked your head under his chin, and closed his eyes.
And in the quiet dark of the room, wrapped up in you, Bucky Barnes knew he was finally home.
✰ summary: You and Levi have been married for five years, and when you say that you're finally ready to have a baby, he immediately throws the box of condoms away like trash as he excitedly carries you to the bedroom.
✰ tags: Nsfw, breeding kink, fingering, handjob, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampies
✰ word count: 1k
˗ˏˋ AO3 ˎˊ˗
Art by langostart | Day 2: Breeding Kink | LeviMonth26
You and Levi have been married for five years. Today, you finally tell him that you're ready to have a baby, and he immediately throws the box of condoms away like trash as he excitedly carries you to the bedroom, while you're just laughing.
"You have been waiting for this, haven't you?" you tease after he hovers on top of you.
"Yes, so tell me now if you want to back out," he replies, holding your gaze as if to make sure you're really serious.
You smile at him. "Make sure I'll be pregnant after this."
Those words ignite something inside him that he didn't know he had. "I promise that you will." And you know he's going to fulfill that promise.
Levi takes off his shirt, revealing his chiseled, mouth-watering abs. Just the sight of them is enough to make you wet. He chuckles after noticing the way you look at him. "Don't worry, I'm all yours."
"I'm so lucky then."
"I'm the one who's lucky." Levi captures your mouth in a kiss.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as one of his hands slips inside your shirt and bra to palm your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple as he deepens the kiss, making you moan softly into his mouth. The heat between your legs grows with every passing second, and you arch your back into his touch, craving more.
"Please, Levi…" you beg, and he knows exactly what you want by that.
Levi pulls away from the kiss as he takes off his pants and boxers, revealing his thick, veiny cock that's too heavy to stand upward on its own, plus the bead of precum leaking from its tip.
Your hand reaches for his hard length, wrapping your fingers around its thick girth and beginning to pump. The sensation makes him groan deeply, his head falling back as he bucks his hips in response. "Fuck, baby, so good."
"Think about how much better it will feel inside me," you say, and the thought of it makes his cock twitch in response.
"Lie down," he says. You obey as Levi tugs off your shorts and panties, the cold air greeting your glistening, exposed cunt.
"So wet already." He slides two fingers inside your pussy and pumps them, making you moan.
"Levi…"
That's when he pulls out his digits. "I know, baby." Levi wraps the same hand he used on you around himself, stroking with your arousal to coat it completely as he lines up at your entrance.
He rubs his fat tip up and down between your slick folds, teasing your slit, and oh, you love the feeling, especially when it's hitting your clit.
"Fuck." Levi finally pushes in, filling you up until he bottoms out, making both of you moan at the feeling, you from being so full, and him from your tight, wet heat wrapping around his shaft.
"You good?"
"Yeah, move now, please."
Hearing your needy request, Levi begins to move, rolling his hips. "You take me so well every time," he says. "I'm going to fill you up so much that you'll get pregnant after this."
Those words make you clench around him, and he definitely feels it, seeing him smirk. "You like it, huh?" He picks up his pace.
"I love it," you whimper, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.
Levi buries his face in your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive spot on your skin enough to leave marks. His hand slips inside your shirt and bra again, kneading your breast, thumb flicking over your hard nipple as he groans against your skin.
The room is now filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, loud enough that you hope no one outside the house will hear it.
"Shit, Levi, there," you gasp after he grazes your sweet spot.
He hits that spot over and over again until your inner walls are spasming around his cock, and you come hard, moaning his name through the orgasm.
"Oh, fuck." It feels like you're strangling his dick, and he almost comes right there.
Levi puts both of your legs on his shoulders, folding you in half. He draws out to the tip, then slams inside you, repeating the motion over and over, making his balls slap loudly against your ass with every thrust as you both moan loudly.
In this position, he's reaching so deep that the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix every time. "I'm coming. I'm going to fuck a baby into you."
Levi thrusts one more time, making sure he's deep enough, as he shoots thick ropes of cum inside you, his hips stuttering with each powerful pulse, filling you up completely. This is definitely better than coming in a condom.
"I love you," he says softly as he rests his forehead against yours, feeling his breath warm against your skin.
"I love you too," you smile at him.
"You're not tired yet, are you?" he asks with a teasing smirk, and you instantly know that he isn't done yet.
"I want more." That's the reply he wanted to hear before he sits back on the bed and makes you straddle his lap. He guides your hips, moving them up and down on his cock, sinking deep with every bounce until you both come again.
You spend the next two hours making love to each other in different positions: you on all fours as Levi pounds into you from behind, and him lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you while standing. Now you're back in missionary. Levi finally pulls out and sees how much cum leaks from your pussy, and he loves the sight of it.
"I'm one hundred percent getting pregnant with how much you came," you say breathlessly, making both of you laugh.
Levi kisses your forehead, his gaze fixed on yours. "Should we start shopping for baby stuff next week?"
You smile at the idea. "Yeah, I would love that."
MAIN MASTERLIST
Event by @levievent
a/n: I honestly don't like this fic that much; I feel like I could do better, but I'm too tired to restart all over again.
kinktober25 | day 22: quiet sex | ao3 link | masterlist
tags: Levi/Reader, cockwarming, public sex, exhibitionism, road trip sex, creampie, some pining and fluff at the end, I lowkey feel sorry for Erwin and Hange in this one
warnings: MDNI
wc: 1.5k
“You’ll just have to sit at the back. With Levi.” Hange gestures towards the backseat.
You eye the cramped space sceptically. No way the two of you will fit there without sitting on top of each other.
Levi seems to think the same. “Why am I thinking you’re about to suggest something illegal, Four-Eyes?”
They blink innocently at him.
A long moment passes.
Then, Levi lets out a scoff. “Tch, fine. But Erwin’s driving.”
Pressing a palm over their heart in mock hurt, Hange pouts. “Why, you don’t trust my–“
“No,” you and Levi say at the exact same time.
You cross your arms over your chest. “If I’m going to sit on Levi’s lap, I don’t want a maniac behind the wheel."
“What she said.”
Hange throws their hands into the air. “Ugh, you two are no fun.”
The first part of the road trip proceeds…fine. You’re sitting almost not-uncomfortably in Levi’s lap while you try very hard to ignore the way his thighs flex beneath you whenever the car does a turn.
You’re fine. It’s fine. It’s absolutely fine.
(it’s not fine)
You’ve inched yourself forwards until you’re practically sitting on his knees when he grabs your waist in a firm grip. “Do you want to fall off?” he asks. “Because if you want to kneel on the floor instead, be my guest.”
Feeling heat rise to your cheeks, you hastily move backwards. Or try to, because just then, the car swerves violently and you’re knocked back against Levi instead. You can hear the breath leave his lungs and feel his forearm lock around your waist, keeping you in place.
“Sorry about that, guys,” Erwin calls from the driver’s seat, a sheepish look on his face. “There was a hole in the road.”
“I thought we said no maniacs behind the wheel,” Levi scowls.
“To be fair, then Erwin’s usually a very responsible driver,” you argue while you try to wriggle out of Levi’s grasp – try, and fail, because he doesn’t let you.
“Keep still, for fucks sake,” he murmurs in your ear.
“Well, if you’d just let go–“ But you freeze mid-sentence as you feel something hard prod against your back. Something hard and warm and heavy and twitchy–
Levi lets out a quiet hiss. “Fuck, don’t do that.”
“Do what?” you hiss back. You press your thighs together as you feel your pussy throb.
“That.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re fucking squirming in my lap.”
You turn back to look at him, arching a brow. “Like you’re one to talk. I’m not the one sporting a huge–”
Levi slaps his palm across your mouth and before you can help it, a muffled whine escapes you. His lips curl. “You were saying?”
Luckily, the sound of the engine masks your conversation, and Hange and Erwin are busy on the front seats, discussing the research project they’re collaborating on with words so complex you wouldn’t be able to understand them even with a clear head.
Fuck, you’ve never been so turned on in your life. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d soaked through your underwear at this point.
And then, you feel it. Levi angles his arm around your waist, his fingers trailing along the hem of your dress. His hand lingers there for a moment before he slowly moves it higher, higher, higher until his fingers ghost the outside of your soaked panties.
He curses. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, accusing me when you’re this wet.”
You whimper, and he presses his palm firmer against your mouth before leaning closer, pushing his throbbing cock against your ass, his breath tickling your ear. “Lift up your skirt.”
Your eyes widen, but you don’t hesitate to comply. Fuck, this is so, so risky and beyond wrong, but also incredibly, incredibly hot.
As you quickly lift your skirt, Levi pulls his cock out of his pants. You just catch a glimpse of it – long, thick, perfectly curved, the tip an angry red and leaking precum – before Levi grabs you by the waist again and practically shoves you down on his cock.
The sound you let out is mercifully drowned as the car accelerates.
Levi’s breathing turns strained, his cock twitching inside you, his knuckles whitening as he clutches your dress – the only thing hiding the fact that Levi is inside you – bunching the fabric in his hands.
“If you move,” he says, voice just a little deeper and hoarser than usual, “I’ll pull out.”
You nod furiously.
And then, the fucking bastard, he lets go of your mouth, leaning back casually while his fingers uncurl as he rests them on your thighs instead. Meanwhile, you feel like you’re dying.
A slow, agonising, painful, wonderfully blissful death.
You don’t move an inch, but every time the car changes speed, turns, or runs over just the tiniest bump in the road, Levi’s cock nudges against your insides. You feel yourself throb and tighten around him, your cunt leaking so much that you’re worried you’ll stain the car seat below you.
The only thing indicating that Levi is just as affected by this arrangement as you are is his carefully controlled breathing (controlled, too controlled to be unintentional) and his dilated pupils. And well, his cock, throbbing inside you every time you so much as hitch a breath.
The next couple of hours proceed like that, and even though none of you have been moving, by the time Erwin finally stops by a gas station, you think you could cum from just a single thrust from Levi – maybe even less. Your pussy is swollen and sensitive, and Levi’s cock so hard that you’re sure it must be painful.
When Erwin finally stops the car, Hange turns in their seat. “You two still good?”
You manage a weak nod. Levi lets out an affirmative grunt.
“You sure?” Erwin asks, brows furrowing. “You do look a little uncomfortable.”
“We’re fine.”
“Alright. We’re just going to grab some snacks, any of you wanna come?”
“Nope, I’m good,” you squeak.
“Buy me a water,” Levi says.
Hange salutes you before exiting the car with Erwin. It’s first when they disappear into the gas station that you let out a slow, stuttering breath of relief.
And then, it’s as if something in Levi snaps. He grabs your waist and lifts you, your combined build-up arousal gushing out before he snaps his hips back up to meet yours in one, powerful thrust.
You were right.
You’re both pushed over the edge, a loud, obscene moan escaping your lips, your hands clutching the front seat for leverage as your thighs shake, your pussy clenching repeatedly around Levi’s pulsing cock as he empties himself inside you with a choked, broken sound from the back of his throat.
It seems like forever, but after you’ve both come down from your highs, Levi finally pulls out. Gently, he reaches up to brush his knuckles against your cheekbone. “You alright?”
“More than alright.” You laugh breathily.
His lips twitch. “Good. I didn’t mean for our first time to be, well, like this.”
You blink in surprise before schooling your features into a coy smile. “Been thinking about me?”
“All the damn time.”
Fuck, he’s serious, isn’t he? You thought you were the only one – the only one sending him stolen glances, the only one wishing you could be something more than just friends.
Levi gently taps your thigh with his index finger. “There are tissues in the glovebox.”
“Oh. Right.”
You manage to clean up before Erwin and Hange return, but there’s still a very wet, very obvious stain on the front of Levi’s pants. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells you before pulling you back into his lap, nestling his chin against your shoulder.
“Leviiii, here’s your water!” Hange sing-songs once they enter the car.
“It'll be a while before we reach our next destination,” Erwin says as he starts the engine. “You guys sure you don’t need a break?”
You shake your head. “We’re fine.”
You’re almost at your destination when Levi unscrews the cap on his water bottle. You expect him to take a sip, but instead, he tips it …and dumps half of it in your lap. “Whoops,” he deadpans.
“Ah, shit,” Hange curses, eyeing the mess with a frown. “Now you’re going to be all wet the rest of the trip.”
You choke on your spit.
Levi waves them off. “We’ll manage.”
“Luckily, we’ll be there soon,” Erwin reassures you.
Sending you both a dubious look, Hange turns around again.
“Told you not to worry,” Levi murmurs in your ear, his thumb drawing soothing circles on your hipbone.
the sketch above are by me and part of my 100 day Levi art challenge
── .✦ note and tags: had a thought about you in frank's fav sundress ..... and well!
nsfw content ahead, minors dn not interact, frank castle x fem!reader husband!frank goes kinda crazy over you in a sundress, public sex, reader has a v, fingering, squirting, brief oral sex (f/m receive) backshots in the backseat, dirty talk (frank running that mouff), use of petnames (baby, mama, papa, sweet wife, baby girl, sweetgirl), slight food play?? — excuse any typos I was excited to post and this is subject to be edited!
wc: 4k
Frank has a special place in his heart for that pale yellow sundress of yours.
Thin strapped, high split, delicate tie in the middle made into a perfect bow always drove him insane.
It's a Sunday morning and Frank is lacing up his boots in your shared living room. You told him about the annual summer farmer's market the night before, proclaiming you would go with or without him. He was half asleep holding you, assuring you in half lucidity he would go under one condition:
"Wear that one yellow dress."
Frank is finishing lacing up his boots when you descend the stairs. He looks up to ask you if you were ready but the question never left his mouth. His fingers stall his lacing, sitting up straight to look at you all over. He mirrors the same smile you have adorned across your face.
"You like?" You ask, giving a twirl and allowing the split to open up. The delicious curves of your thighs peak out at Frank who simply smiles and shakes his head, attempting to gather his thoughts.
"More than like, sweetheart. You know what the dress does to me." Frank's eyes sweep up and down your fame as you saunter over. His hands find your waist immediately as you look down at him, sharing a gaze as your fingers run through his locks.
"So you said half asleep last night." You chuckle, hand moving down to scratch gently along his beard. He hums.
"I don't remember, but i'm glad one of us did, doll." He admits honestly and you smile. You reach down, kissing him on the lips and he kisses you back. His hand slides gently down to cup your ass softly, earning a giggle from you. He laughs as you smack him on the shoulder, but you give him one more kiss.
"Let's go before we don't make it out the house."
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍋ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍋ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚
Frank surprisingly kept his hands to himself on the way there. Sure he had that gentle hand on your thigh while driving, but he truly seemed like he was going to behave.
But that keyword: seemed.
Because the moment you two were steadily walking through the market, your hips swaying at every step, the restraint slowly dissipates from Frank's body. His eyes were fixated on your lower back as you wander between booths. You're completely oblivious as you continue sampling all the different kinds of fruits and juices the vendors offered. Currently you have a strawberry offered by a local strawberry farmer in your hand. You bite into it, juices exploding as it dribbles down your chin and around your lips. The world slips into slow motion as Frank watches, seeing the juice pool around your lips and some from your chin landing onto your breast. His pulse roars in his ears at the scene, eyes flickering back to your mouth as you lick away the juice.
"Babe, you gotta try this. It's so juicy." You bring the fruit up to his lips, still completely unaware of your husband violently undressing you with his eyes. He says nothing, but opens his mouth as you pop the fruit into his mouth.
But then his lips close around your finger playfully, making a small show to suck the juice off of your finger, your breath gets caught in your throat. Especially when you saw the glint behind those brown irises, hinting that he was not on his best behavior this whole time.
And all it took was a strawberry farmer to ignite his worst behavior.
You move your finger from his mouth, face flushing from the heat that was not because of the sunlight beating down. You can only look at him, words lost as your brain short circuits.
"Juicy," he says. "but I definitely know something that's juicer, baby." Frank says, eyes flickering from your breast to your face. He reaches down and wipes the juice away that's still sitting on top of your breasts.
"Yeah?" You ask, almost in a drunken daze because you know where this is headed. Especially when he takes his finger and sticks it in his mouth, your insides twist and flutter as you squeeze your thighs together.
"Yeah," He says. "I do."
You two hold a stare, subtly forgetting that you were in the middle of a market. You begin to snap out of your trance slowly before reaching out to grab his hand.
"Come on, let's at least walk by everything before you start plotting further, Mr. Castiglione." You say, interlocking your fingers and beginning to walk, pulling him after you. He trails behind, chuckling at you but his eyes watch your ass bounce with each step.
"Lead the way, Mrs. Castiglione." He says, low in his throat as he plants a kiss to your temple. More heat flushes across your cheeks and you give his hand a squeeze.
You two continue to get through the market. Despite his behavior with the strawberry he managed to hold it together. Or so he wanted you to think.
Frank's mind stayed on you and that damn yellow dress. The same one that catches the wind at the right moments, split opening graciously and revealing your thighs again. And if it wasn't your thighs that had his attention, then it was your ass. You actually caught him staring several times whenever you turned around unexpectedly to make a comment or ask a question. And if it wasn't your ass he was staring at, then it was your breast. Many times while you were eating or talking you saw his eyes flicker down to your chest. His mind far from whatever produce you were rambling about at that moment.
And at this moment, his focus was on the delicate bow you tied to hold your breast in the brassiere of the dress. This particular piece was driving him crazy, and all he could think about was reaching down, taking one of the dainty strings by his teeth to pull it loose, springing your breast free for him.
Heavily considered it before remembering you two were in broad daylight in the middle of a farmer's market. So, with the last bit of his restraint, he brought his focus back to you as you pulled him over to the next stall ran by a vegetable farmer.
"I could use some fresh vegetables for dinner tonight." You hum, picking up a variety of different vegetables. Cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, you had them all as Frank watches your hips sway. He bit into his bottom as he coasts up behind you, pressing his front against your rear.
"Gotta say, I'm pretty hungry right now, doll." He says, voice thick with want. The deepness of his voice sending shivers down your spine before they settle into the pit of your stomach. A pool of want growing as he places a hand on your hip. You look over your shoulder, seeing that look in his eye as he looks from your eyes, lips, and settling on your breast.
"Frank." You shutter out, watching as his head dips lower to kiss behind your ear. Your knees damn near buckle as he licks hotly before biting down. A gasp escapes your mouth and you drop the vegetables from your hands. The farmer looks up, alarmed by your sudden behavior and worried something was wrong with the produce.
"Everything okay, miss? There's nothing wrong with the crops right?" He asks, standing up as you quickly apology.
"No no! Sorry I just saw a bee." You lie, bending down to get the vegetables but Frank was already gathering them. He turns his attention to the farmer.
"We'll take these." Frank says, looking briefly at you before giving you a look you know all too well.
Frank was tired of waiting and this was the last stall you would visit.
And he was not going to wait till you both got home.
And that is how you ended up in the backseat of Frank's truck.
"Frank." You moan as his lips move from the corner of your mouth to trail wet, tepid kisses along your neck. He groans, licking along your pulse before nipping gently. You gasp, opening your legs wider to allow him to settle in comfortably.
"Been wanting you since I saw you come down in that dress, sweetheart." Frank confesses as he licks along your neck. Your legs shiver in response before you roll your hips against him.
"I love wearing this dress for you." You find yourself confessing along with him as he lowers his lips to your collarbone. Your fingers come up, gripping at his hair to anchor yourself as he bites along the bone. You whimper, rolling your hips again and feel the tightness in his jeans.
"Yeah, is that right?" He asks, continuing to shower you with kisses as he lowers himself to your breast. "Fucking love when you wear this dress you have no idea how much it drives me crazy, doll." Frank devotes himself to you while worshipping your body. You let out a squeak as he bites your breast, lips sucking to earn a illicit coo out of you.
"You're insatiable." You manage to chuckle out and releases your breast from his lips. He raises an eyebrow as dark chuckle escapes him.
"Can you blame me?" He starts, kissing the neglected breast, "fucking got me ready to take you in the backseat right now, princess. You do criminal things to me when you wear this dress you know that?" He says, kissing your breast before biting down. You throw your head back, moaning as pleasure consumes you. He licks an sucks, igniting heat within in your lower belly. Your cunt pulses and you roll your hips once more to feel pressure. Your clit is aching to be touched and his rough denim causes you to whimper at the contact. He releases your breast from his mouth, ready to move on as his bites decorate your skin.
And what he does next, leaves you breathless.
With his eyes never leaving yours, he lowers his mouth to the drawstrings in front of your dress. He takes one string between his teeth, pulling back to unravel the pretty bow you made early this morning. Your breast spring free and Frank licks his lips before divulging.
He takes one of your areola's in his mouth, the pert bud hardening within seconds in his hot mouth. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, tugging hard on his hair and earning a groan from him. He bites gently, causing you to gasp and your clit to twitch. His rough hand comes up to the neglected breast, cupping, squeezing, and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You begin panting in the backseat, heat increasing and you start to slide your sundress straps off until Frank slaps your thigh gently.
"Don't you fucking dare. Don't even fucking think about taking this dress off, you hear me, sweetheart?" He orders and you pull the straps back up, obeying without a second thought as he continues to worship you. He switches over to the other, trail of saliva in his wake and the scene of so lewd and disgusting but you love it. He earns another roll of your hips again but he grabs his hands and holds you still.
"Frank!" You whine, hating the restraint but forgetting momentarily when he sucks on your other nipple. Your thighs grow sticky with wetness that pools from your thighs. All this attention to every sensitive spot but the one place you craved him the most was driving you insane.
"Love how you did this bow sweetheart, but I love your breast more." He sucks harder, "so perfect, so beautiful, just like my girl." He praises and you sigh.
"Frank—" but he cuts you off.
"You know what I love even more?" Frank questions, fingers skating up underneath your dress.
"What?" You ask innocently, looking at him beneath your eyelashes into a look that you know drives him crazy.
"This pussy—fucking wet pussy. How drenched it gets for me, baby. Always a damn running faucet for me huh?" Frank confesses filithily, his fingers finding your naked pelvis. He raises an eyebrow at you.
"No panties today either? So that's why your ass was moving like it was all damn day, huh sweetheart? You tryin' to kill me with that perfect ass of yours?" Frank rambles as he slides a finger across the silky patch of skin above your clit. It's freshly shaven and Frank wonders if you did it this morning.
"I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice." You tease as his finger slowly descends between your thighs.
"Oh I noticed," he says darkly, "and now I'm gonna give you what you asked for by wearing this fucking dress." His finger finds your swollen clit with ease, caressing it softly. The touch has you throwing your head back against the door as a pathetic mewl escapes you.
"I love when you play with my clit, Frank." You say as he continues his soft strokes. His rough fingers are so tender with their touch and the juxtaposition has your head spinning.
"Yeah, but I think you deserve a little more right now, huh doll?" He asks, finger circling your clit once more before dipping down unexpectedly. He curses under his breath as he feels how drenched you are and you cry.
"Please, please please," the begs come out of you before you can stop yourself, "I want you, Frank." You plea, core clenching around nothing and you were growing achingly desperate for something to fill you, stretch you. The desire to be full continues to consume your mind and Frank sees it in the way your eyes look at him. He knows that look means you're ready for him to be buried inside but he has other plans.
"I know you do, baby but I gotta take my time with this dress yeah? You wore it for me and I gotta thank you the best way, baby girl." Frank slides his finger inside your soaking cunt and your hips jerk at the feeling. You whine, rolling your hips to get him to stuff you with one more finger.
"Frank—oh fuck!" Another thick digit buries itself into you before you can verbally beg him. He curves up, hitting that gummy patch and your eyes roll back.
"S'tight I gotta open you up before I give you my cock, y/n. I can't be hurting my sweet little wife who wore this dress just for me right? I'd be a shitty husband, huh sweetheart?" Frank runs his mouth, continuing to scissor his fingers as you whine.
"Frank." You pant as he moves his fingers faster, hitting that spot deeper and harder, earning that lewd squelching noise. Frank grunts, moving his free hand to grab your breast before playing with your nipple. He feels your cunt flutter around his fingers, squeezing tightly causing him to swear.
"Christ, you're squeezing the hell out of my fingers doll," he says, "you think you're ready for me? Or should I add a third and play with you a little longer, hmm?" His filthy words and brutal fingering earns desparate mmm's and ahh's out of you. He stares down at you, watching your breast jiggle as you continue your pathetic whines and whimpers. Your lips are flushed, glossy with saliva.
"Another." You finally mewl out and Frank hums.
"You want another, sweetheart? Fuck, I'll give it to you baby. I'd be a shitty husband if I didn't give you what you want, huh?" He asks and you're nodding, whimpering as he slides a third inside. He stretches you deliciously and you cry out. Your nails find home on his bicep as you struggle to brace yourself.
"Frank—fuck!" His hand flies from your breast to your mouth, quieting your moans as he sees a couple walk by. You're turned on more, whimpering against his palm as he continues to finger you dizzy. Frank watches the couple disappear between cars and turns his attention back to you. His fingers are soaked and he knows your dress isn't probably too far from being like his fingers.
"You think you're ready for me, sweetheart," Frank says, "because I think if you get any wetter you'll soak through that dress of yours." And you nod enthusiastically. You pull your dress up, exposing your thighs and messy cunt. He sees your thighs are soaked, arousal shinny and sticky. His pupils blow the moment he catches liquid pouring out of your cunt.
“Nnnmmphh—fuck!” You squeal as you spray all over his fingers, definitely wetting your dress now. Frank lets out a low rumble that resembles a growl almost before diving between your messy thighs. His hot tongue swipes at your clit before trailing down to drink up your nectar.
“Taste so good, sweetheart,” Frank says after pulling himself from between your thighs, “I definitely think you’re ready for me now, hm?” He asks, hands going to his belt but you’re faster. He lets out a chuckle as you work quickly, unfastening his worn leather belt and then working on his button. You undo the zipper as he pulls his denim down, along with his boxers and his cock springs free. Your mouth waters, seeing the mushroom tip flushed purple almost with the tip leaking. You surge forward, taking the head between your lips and sucking. Frank hisses, hand going to your curls before gripping roughly.
“Shit, y/n.” He groans as you work sloppily. You slide your mouth further, taking more in and he jumps in your mouth. You moan around him, salivating and Frank grips your hair tighter. You run your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside and Frank’s hips buck, making you take him deeper in your mouth. You gag softly but keep him nestled in your throat and Frank damn near loses it.
“Fuck, I need that pussy now. Turn around f’me, pretty girl okay?” Frank says, pulling you off of him and you have a trail of spit from his tip to your bottom lip. You smile, leaning down to kiss the tip one last time before turning around. You hike your dress up, having it pool around your waist and you brace your hand onto the doorrest. Frank settles behind you, hands coming up to caress your awaiting ass. He slaps one cheek playfully before squeezing it, admiring how the fat jiggles and how soft it is. Frank always told himself it was the 8th wonder of the world because he was mesmerized every time he saw it.
“Baby, you're staring.” You giggle, wiggling your ass playfully and he slaps the right cheek. You gasp but then whine as he slaps the other one harder.
“Gotta give my favorite juicy peach some love first, sweetgirl.” He says before positioning himself behind you. You foot a leg onto the ground, opening yourself up and giving Frank an illicit view of your awaiting cunt. It’s dripping obscenely and Frank doesn’t waste a single second before sinking himself into you.
The two of you moan, hissing at the tightness of your cunt as he continues to bury himself at the hilt. You let out a salacious mewl, back arching just the way you knew Frank liked it before he eases out. He swears under his breath, sliding back in as he marvels on how well you squeeze him. He looks down, watching his cock emerge with a creamy ring and he swears.
“Barely started and you’re already creamin’ on me, baby, fuck.” His pelvis meets the curve of your ass and he grips your hips to anchor himself. His nails dig into the skin and you whimper at the sting that occurs. You grip the door rest hard, ashening your knuckles you’re sure as he continues to drill himself deep inside you.
“Frank, ohmygod–mmmph!” You whimper, hearing the sounds of skin slapping and your pussy creaming around your husband. Frank continues to grunt behind you, cursing whenever you squeezed him tight when he hit that spot that left you seeing stars. Your toes are curling in your sandals, roots sweating, and thighs shaking with each pound against your cunt.
“That’s my pretty little wife yeah that’s it baby,” he says, “keep moaning for me sweet girl, you’re so fucking good papa’s so proud of you yeah?” Frank says tenderly as he praises you. You wail at the praises, taunt feeling in your core pulling tighter and tighter as he talks you through it.
“I love you so much, Frank.” You whimper, eyes screwed shut as you give yourself entirely to your husband. The pleasure runs rampant through your body, pooling tightly and warming in your lower belly as his cock continues to kiss those deep parts of you.
“I love you too, baby s’good, so fucking good for your husband huh?” The praises tumble from his mouth as he continues to feel your cunt suck him in. The grip on his cock told him you never wanted him to leave and shit he was feeling the same. Your cunt was gushing, dripping down your thighs now and surely making a mess on the seat.
“Yes, daddy, I love being good for you.” You’re completely drunk off of his cock that continues to piston into you and he knows it. He hears the desperate whines you let out that only meant you were close. Especially with your thighs shaking, he knew you were only moments from coming all over him. He wasn’t too far behind you either.
“Ahh–fuck mama, you’re so perfect for me taking this cock,” he slaps your ass and you yelp but moan as he rubs the sore spot, “keep being good for me and cum on this cock yeah? I know you can do it sweet girl I feel you dripping and squeezing me sweetheart, fuck.” Frank continues to be filthy as he drills into you.
“Frank, I can’t, I can’t–” You chant, the pleasure becoming too much for you that you were almost scared. You already knew this orgasm was going to hit you hard and you knew no amount of bracing could prepare you for the pending wave about to crash over you. And Frank knew this too, especially with the way you reach back, holding onto his wrist to ground yourself. But he’s not phased by your words; he knows you can do it.
“Yes you can, mama. I know it’s so much and a lot for your little cunt but you’re so good,” he leans down, placing kisses along your back to soothe you, “you’re doing so good for me. Go ahead and come f’me baby girl.” He coaches you through it, placing more kisses and you mewl underneath him. You grow louder, body shaking as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.
“Oh—fuck!” You cum all over Frank, cunt clamping down and squeezing him tightly. Your body shakes violently as you let out a series of whimpers and moans.
“That's right cum for me sweetheart,” Frank grunts, hissing as his balls feel heavy. “Atta girl, atta fucking girl come for papa.” Frank groans, feeling his balls swell as the build up rushes to his tip. He’s groaning, thrusts becoming chopping.
“Go ‘head and come for me, Frankie.” You whimper as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He doesn’t need further encouragement with the help of your wet and slick walls coating him. He’s spilling in you within seconds, groans bubbling in his throat as he does. Frank gives a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling out of you. The two of you hiss at the loss but let out a sigh of content. You look over your shoulder to see your husband staring at you, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Your legs shake as he lets out a final breath, chuckling.
GOIN' ONCE, GOIN' TWICE, I'M SOLD|VERN (LOWLIFES) X READER
Prompt: Vern takes out a newspaper ad to find a wife
(A/N: Saw a thing on Instagram of a guy taking out an ad in the paper for a wife and it was so Vern coded I had to do it. I left this open ended and shorter to see about making a series, if anyone likes the idea. Hope you enjoy and if you want more Vern let me know!)
WARNINGS: outdated views, Vern being a caveman essentially, mentions of smut, mentions of homelessness, mentions of family/parental issues, etc.
What's Playing: "Sold" ~John Michael Montgomery
"Now're you sure you wanna do this Vern? You got plenty a' chances of findin' yurself a wife if you just look hard enough." Billy watched Vern writing and formatting the text at the local newspaper office. Most people in the city would email the file directly to the company, but in this small town out in the middle of nowhere, computers were hard to come by. Besides, he always liked the old fashioned way.
"You think I can find myself a wife when half the people in this little back country hole are all kin? I don't do that cousin fuckin' shit, sure my third cousin might like real purdy when I'm desperate but there's just some lines a man won't cross y'know what I mean? We needs to get us some fresh blood in this town, and you know me with talkin' to them yuppies in the city, always ends up in a fist fight."
"That's true enough boss, but isn't this a little...extreme? Makin' an ad to find a wife?"
"Every one o' them city girls always ends up gettin' offended when I suggest comin' back with me anywhere even if it's a quick tumble in the hay. This way I know they're interested."
"Well what'chu gonna say?" Billy leans over Vern's shoulder to watch him write with the nub of a pencil.
"Simple really, I'll list all my qualities for some lucky lady." He touches the end of the pencil to his tongue before starting to write. "Thirty-two year old man seekin' a pretty woman to be his wife and live on his ranch. Must be willin' to make a few homecooked meals and tidy. No other preferences. Qualities of the man: lots of land-"
"That's a good one."
"Four shotguns, one rifle. Bought with cash. Owns a truck, and a home. No diseases, children or other women. Good loyal boy who was raised right and wants a woman to keep him company durin' the day and warm his bed at night." Vern's smirk widens at Billy's knowing giggles at the implication of his last written line. "Serious inquires only, Vern Cleary." He finishes by writing down his number. Vern slides the finished ad across the counter, pulling out a few coins with him and smiling ear to ear.
The man who ran the paper, an old soul who had been in the community for years reads over the ad before raising a brow. "You sure about this son?"
"Sure as I'll ever be sir, I've been on this green Earth too long with someone to hold close, I reckon I better fix all that. I need me a wife."
You weren't sure how long it had been since you'd stopped here in the middle of nowhere. After losing your housing and job you had nowhere else to go but to live with distant family across the country. Coming from the city the journey would take quite a few days, meaning a lot of your nights were spent in your car before you'd purchased a little tent after experiencing one too many times with a hurt back from the unforgiving seats of your car.
There was a chance your family might not even take you in, you'd never met them and since you effectively had cut off your parents they were your best option until something else came along. You'd tried to get jobs wherever you went but with no home address many businesses labelled you as "unreliable", as if incompetence had landed you in this situation.
The night was quiet after you'd set up your tent just as it was getting dark. You stayed close to the edge of the road, not wanting to take a chance in the woods unarmed figuring you could fight off a human attacker a little better than an animal one. Still the dark crept in, and you found yourself gathering wood for a fire. With the flashlight on your phone, you bunch up the newspapers you'd taken from the local shop as a fire starter. They were always cheaper than lighter fluid and if you could save even a couple pennies, you would. Two little balls of paper got nestled into the base of the wooden stack you made before an ad caught your eye.
"Opportunity for a young woman:"
"Seeking a wife. Thirty-two year old man seeking a pretty woman to be his wife and live on his ranch. Must be willing to make a few homecooked meals and tidy. No other preferences. Qualities of the man: lots of land, four shotguns, one rifle. Bought with cash. Owns a truck, and a home. No diseases, children or other women. Good loyal boy who was raised right and wants a woman to keep him company during the day and warm his bed at night. "
"Serious inquires only, Vern Cleary."
And a phone number was listed below. It was crazy, the dumbest thing someone could pay to put in a paper. And yet you were just as crazy for considering it. If he was serious, then it could mean a new life for you. Playing the little housewife so that you could be taken care of, not have to worry about another cent or where you were going to live or how you were going to get your next meal was insanely appealing. Besides, you doubted that he knew what a prenup was, if you did your time, you could take half of what he had and go along your separate ways. In the best case scenario, you might actually find a guy who was right for you. Either way you couldn't lose. The idea of him being a murderer crossed your mind, but there wasn't any harm in checking out the ad and the man. You'd listened to enough true crime to pinpoint behaviours of a predator, you knew how to keep yourself save. The fact of the matter was: you were desperate, and willing to try anything.
Quickly you dialed the number. After the second ring a thick Southern accent answers the phone.
"Yeah? What'chu want?"
"Is this Vern Cleary? From the ad?"
There's a long pause, like he can't believe someone actually called.
"This is Vern. What can I do for you?"
"Like I said I found your ad. And...I'd like to see about taking you up on the offer."
Again the silence stretches out, before a loud whoop comes from the other end and you hear him shout: "Billy! Boy I got myself a wife!"
You suppress a smile, the ideas of him being a murderer already seeming farfetched.
"Ahem, well missy I would be very pleased to meet you an' talk about our future, when can I come get you?"
"Why don't you tell me where you live and I'll come to you." A better chance to back out if need be.
"Well that's just fine by me darlin' I'll have you come over nice and early tomorrow mornin', sound good?"
"Sounds perfect."
He gives you the address and you type it into your Notes app.
"I can't wait to meet you missy, you're gonna make me the happiest man in the county." He makes a kissing noise into the phone like he's blowing you one before hanging up.
✰ summary: Levi arrives home from a long day at work and immediately goes looking for you.
✰ content warning: None
✰ word count: 0.3k
˗ˏˋ AO3 ˎˊ˗
Art by yanyouxiu
After a long day at work, Levi finally arrives at home and his eyes immediately search for you in the living room, but you're nowhere to be found. Usually, he always sees you there waiting for him. Then, he smells the aroma of food coming from the kitchen and finds you cooking dinner.
He's about to call you to let you know he's home but notices what you're wearing. It's his shirt. This is actually the first time he has seen you wear one of his own.
You look so good in that, he thinks.
Levi quietly walks up without you sensing him, then you get surprised when you feel a hug from behind and a chin resting on your shoulder.
"Levi?" you call his name.
"I'm home," he responds, inhaling your scent. "Smells good."
"I just showered earlier."
"You're wearing my shirt."
"I ran out of clean clothes. I'll do the laundry tomorrow, so I'm borrowing yours for today."
"Don't. Just do it the other day," he says.
"Why?" you ask, his words making you confused.
He didn't answer, so you call his name again. "Levi?"
"You just look good wearing my shirt," he confesses as you feel his hug tighten.
It made you smile, so you turn around to face him and say, "I miss you," wrapping your arms around his neck.
"I wanted to go home fast earlier, but the newly recruited brats keep messing up their work, so I had to fix it every damn time." You chuckle at him because it feels like he's just complaining right now, and you find it cute.
"At least you're home."
"Yeah," he says, locking eyes with you for a moment before adding, "I'm home," as he closes the gap between you two to capture your mouth in a kiss.
✰ summary: Accidentally sending a text to your boss that isn't meant for him, and now Levi can't stop thinking about it.
✰ tags: Nsfw, virgin!Levi, masturbation, oral sex (in his imagination), Levi is hung (he doesn't even realize it)
✰ word count: 0.7k
˗ˏˋ AO3 ˎˊ˗
Day 6: Boss/Secretary | LeviMonth26
If anyone knows who the artist of the picture is, pls lmk so I can credit them.
Inside the office, you stand in front of your boss as he shows you a text you accidentally sent him last night while you were drunk.
"Read." An order. Shit.
"I'm sorry, I swear it's not like—"
"I said read," he repeats, firmly this time.
You look at his phone again, then at him, checking if he's really serious about you reading it out loud. It's embarrassing.
Levi raises one eyebrow at you as if to say, what are you waiting for?
Sigh. Fine.
"My boss is so hot and handsome," you say, your voice dropping to a whisper as you continue, "Even if he's short, I'm sure what's inside his pants makes up for it."
Silence follows.
"I'm really sorry, sir. I was drunk last night, I didn't know what I was doing. It was supposed to be sent to my friend!" you explain.
"You just admitted that you talk about me with your friend."
An idiot. You're such an idiot.
"You do know that sending that kind of message is inappropriate, right?" he says. "I can fire you just for that." You swallow hard. You can't lose the job.
Before you can say anything, he speaks again. "I'll let it slide this time. Get to work." A response you didn't expect to hear.
"Huh?" is all you manage to say.
"Or do you prefer to get fired?"
"No! I mean- thank you sir! I promise it won't happen again."
"Get to work," he repeats.
You smile at him with a sigh of relief as you exit his office.
-
Later that night, Levi is taking a shower, but he can't seem to stop thinking about your text.
Even if he's short, I'm sure what's inside his pants makes up for it. That line keeps replaying inside his mind. Then his gaze drops down to his soft cock, hanging flaccid between his thighs. Is it even big?
The truth is, Levi has no experience with women, so he has never heard someone say something like that about him. He's always been busy with work, and even when he feels horny, he just masturbates and sometimes watches porn. He's a total virgin.
His mind turns to you. It's been five months since you started working at his company, and you're actually the best secretary he's ever had. You're hardworking, diligent, always finish your tasks on time, always make his favorite tea in the morning, and always smile at him. He even admits to himself that you're pretty and hot. That must be why he doesn't want to fire you, even after you said something inappropriate, on top of calling him short. Well, it is the truth. He knows he isn't tall like other guys.
"Shit," he curses after seeing his cock is now fully erect just from thinking about you.
It must be because it's been a while, he thinks, trying to convince himself as he wraps his fingers around his thick, veiny shaft.
Levi turns off the shower and leans his back against the wall, stroking his length up and down until a moan escapes his lips.
Then you come to his mind again; the thought of you imagining him like that makes his cock twitch. What made you think of him that way? Do you like him? Do you think about him when you touch yourself?
He looks down, picturing you kneeling in front of him, twirling your tongue over his frenulum and licking up to his slit before closing your lips around the head to suck him.
Fuck. This is wrong. Imagining his secretary that way is completely inappropriate. But on the other hand, you are the one who started this by sending that text.
Levi can't stop now, he quicken his pace. The slick sound of skin slapping against skin is echoing through the bathroom.
What would it feel like if it were your mouth instead of his hand? What would your reaction be if he bent you over the office desk and fucked you right there?
Shit. He's close.
He tightens his grip on his cock, imagining it's your pussy. He can't stop moaning, calling out your name as he spurts thick ropes of cum onto the tiles, with some splattering across his hand.
When the lust finally subsides, he feels guilty. How can he face you tomorrow?
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