Just trying to make it... @lostalienchild - Tumblr Blog

〉[separate] house of the hearth/reader、 nsfw ー mdni、 wc2.7k、 smut、 angry sex、 choking、 grinding、 nipple play、 bruising/marking、 hand kink、 deepthroating、 nonspecific fingering、 wall sex、 finger sucking、 matching lingerie、 face-sitting (lynette on reader)、 sleeper-build frem agenda、 teasing、 dry humping、 semi-public sex (boat at night)、 mentioned: voice & strength kink

〉masterlist.

arlecchino likes taking her time with you.

she always makes room for you in her schedule, no matter how tight a squeeze it may be, because she has nothing if not her priorities straight. between leading the house of the hearth, being a harbinger, a snezhnayan diplomat, or just the legal guardian of too many to count, she never fails to make sure you're cared for.

and she does treat you with care, almost like you're a ceramic doll just waiting to break. taking an hour just to undress you, another to warm you up, and another few to unravel you piece by piece. she's more reserved when it comes to her own pleasure, not wanting to overwhelm you when you're already on cloud 9.

this, however, is not one of those times.

this, with a hand wrapped firm around the back of your neck, teeth sunk into your bottom lip as she rocks her hips into yours, is strange.

someone had pissed her off — probably someone she couldn't deal with — and what better way was there to get such frustration off her chest than ambushing you between meetings? sure, neuvillette may be waiting for her, but the way your eyes roll and lips fall open when she grinds you against her thigh is worth the missed time.

arlecchino had you fully undressed in her lap in seconds, cursed hands gripping your hip and neck as she swallows every whine and moan you make. your hands are in her hair, thumbs shaking against her cheek while your juices soak into her pants. she barely lets you pull away for air — lips dragging down your jaw and chest, wrapping around your oh-so-sensitive nipple and almost making you cry out at the heightened pleasure. your hand leaves her face for just a moment, clamping over your mouth as your body burns chasing your high.

lips turn to teeth and you seize up instantly at the pain, your core pulsing hard around nothing and dragging your clit against her thigh. you can barely open your eyes to look at her, already feeling the glare in your bones.

"i'm sorry—" you whimper, hand falling from your mouth to her shoulder like it was burned. she says nothing, but her arms wrap tightly around your thighs. she lifts you with ease, tossing you onto the bed. you practically scramble to sit on your knees, hands coming up to help her undress. she smacks your hands away from her top, eyes sharp as they look down on you.

"lay back." she pushes onto your shoulder until you're back the way she dropped you. "you aren't allowed to touch me."

your heart falls out of your chest, eyes blinking up at her in hurt and confusion while she takes off her clothes. it's odd seeing her like this, having her treat you less like a princess and more like a toy, gripping at your skin so harshly it leaves bruises. she's normally so gentle, so giving, that it's like she's being more professional with you than anything. she takes no time stripping, her hands on you before her underwear hits the floor and flipping you over, dragging you to the edge of the bed. she knows you're sensitive, knows the way her tongue bumps against your clit muddles all of your thoughts. and something in the back of her mind makes her shudder when your whole body shakes in her grasp. her lips are on yours half a second later, slick folds and hardened clits pressing together with too little friction.

it'd be wrong to say you weren't having a hell of a time, wondering just how to get her colleagues on her bad side more often as her teeth grazed the side of your neck once more.

and when you wake up hours later — cursed arms wrapped around your waist, soft breathing against your cheek, body aching every time you move — you're mentally willing dottore to do something stupid one more time.

ᯓ more under the cut ᯓ★

lyney's a busy guy. his days are mostly spent between work — both fatuus and magician — so there's rarely time to spend with you. your schedules are always conflicting; a mission when you're free, school or work when he's off — but sometimes there's a couple hours after work and between rehearsal where you find him waiting at your usual table in hotel debord.

it's truly a sight to behold; up the right staircase and to the middle table covered in floor-length cloth, candles lit for ambiance and plates steaming with your off-menu favourites (courtesy of the twins having the boss's favour, since hotel debord's menu changes too often for your liking). lyney's nothing if not romantic, and it shows when you notice the plate is the same dish you silently praised last time. he stands as soon as your head peeks out from the stairwell, greeting you with a hand and a kiss before pulling your chair out for you.

it'd been a little over a week since the last time you were able to have dinner together, and the chatter that followed reflected that. though you knew the twins were preparing another grand performance for the opera epiclese, it was an entirely different excitement you felt hearing him talk about it.

he's animated; food slowly going cold with how little he's picked at it, utensils abandoned as he reenacts a bit of what he's practicing, but that's not what you're worried about.

your current concern is more focused on the heat growing in your core, of what else those hands are good at — mind drifting away from the card trick and to less… dinner friendly ideas. you couldn't help but think of the time before last; he'd had you on all fours, the pads of his fingers rolling against that gummy spot inside of you while your lips were wrapped around him. the positioning wasn't exactly convenient, what with him reaching over you, unintentionally forcing himself further into your mouth. you could still breathe better than you thought you'd be able to, but the lack of control made his fingers feel like heaven. they were always your favourite part of him during times like that, no matter where they were.

there was one time you'd both barely made it into your apartment. it was a miracle for both of you to be free from responsibilities, and you'd wanted to make the best of it by having him stay over.

it's safe to say your neighbours knew his name before you could introduce them properly, and this was from people you weren't sure had ever had an interest in their shows.

he'd had you in too many positions to count that night, but you can still feel the way he pressed you against your front door; fingers shoved into your mouth to keep you quiet while gravity helped you sink onto his cock inch by inch. he's normally on the quieter side — much preferring to hear you whine for him and not wanting to interrupt — but it'd been too long since you'd been together, and the moans that left him sounded delectable. it did nothing but make you clench down on him, which in turn pulled soft whimpers from him. his composure slowly crumpling was only made worse by the way your tongue swirled around his fingers, canines grazing his knuckles as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking softly, and whined at the way he pressed into you.

"you seem to be having a good daydream — could you perhaps be dreaming about yours truly?" lyney grins, leaning his cheek against his palm. he noticed, of course, the moment your brain wandered. he thought it was cute how you zoned out, but you couldn't have made it more obvious by staring at his hands.

you were flushed, you could feel your ears burn, and you silently hope the candlelight is dim enough to hide it, but the way lyney's hand meets your knee is all you need to know you won't be here for long.

distracting lynette isn't easy, but that's where you come in.

lyney begged, pleaded, grovelled at your feet for help to plan a party for their birthday weeks ago; quoting how he's never properly surprised her and he knew she would love it. your only job would be to distract her the day before, and to bring her to hotel bouffes d'ete the night of, which is exactly how you found yourself waltzing out of chioriya boutique that same day. plan in mind, designs made, and measurements recorded.

you were teasing throughout dinner; ankle brushing against hers, eyes dragging across her frame, small pout lining your lips as you ask her how the food tastes. by the end she's calmer than she's been all day cherishing the few minutes it takes you both to wash and dry the dishes, accompanied by small, fleeting kisses and a pinch here and there.

you're slipping off your dress before you make it to the bedroom, watching her eyes trail up your figure and take in your custom lingerie. it's colour matches the same pearlescent one you'd had her wear, but yours was more breathtaking in her opinion. she knows she's biased — any clothing you wear is exemplary in her eyes after all.

you positioned yourself on the bed with care — leaning to the side, legs bent and splayed at just the right angle to make her tail twitch — giving her the perfect view of the sticky mess between your thighs. the lumidouce embroidered across your breasts beckoning her closer, knee pressing into the bed a breath away from your core as she straddles your thigh. you almost hope she can't feel how hard your heart is beating, but the heat of her ears under your touch is enough to know you're on the same page. her freshly manicured nails dig soft crescents into your waist, a hand tangling into your hair as she pulls you into a kiss. your teeth tug against her bottom lip, tongue swiping to soothe as you hold her steady; she's almost trembling, grinding against your thigh while her own presses against your core. silk sliding together, dampening from arousal and sweat.

the only sounds that could be heard was the soft moans you voice and the squelching between your legs — something almost inconceivable.

lynette's breath hitches when your hands meet her waist, lying back and pulling her up to straddle your face instead — her hands shoot out to keep her from crushing you, but they quiver under her weight when your tongue trails through her cunt. she whimpers from the contact, nails seeking purchase from the sheets, tail curling as her back arches into you. you'd be surprised at how little spit is mixed into the essence on your tongue if she hadn't already been dripping onto your thighs — sure to stain the silk, but that's the least of your focus.

you almost giggle at how her ears and brows twitch, eyes rolling back before she clenches them closed. the noise that falls from her lips is melodic, but the way her thighs tremble when you laugh is better — the small puffs of air against her clit making her see stars. she sits up a bit, arms falling back to hold herself up. she looks divine like this; her pupils blown wide, eyes locked with your own, and face flushed while she grinds herself against your mouth. you press further into her — the tip of your nose knocking against her clit, mouth salivating at the way she clenches on your tongue.

her fingers tangle in your hair as she cries out, your mouth flooding with her cum. you swallow it all, heart swelling from her whimpering and shaking as she slowly comes down from her high.

you wipe the wetness from your chin when she crashes onto the bed next to you, jumping to straddle her waist when you notice the clock. you press light kisses all over her face before ending square on her lips.

"happy birthday, love."

freminet knew what he was doing.

he's been too observant lately, too aware of the ways you react to him, even when you yourself aren't conscious of it. the way your eyes trail up and down his figure when he pulls himself out of the water, blond hair pushed out of his face and cheeks red from the sun. he watches out of the corner of his eye how your lips part with a quiet breath, pupils dilating when he unzips his wetsuit. he almost makes a show of it, flexing when he stands and ties the arms around his waist, but the way he laughs softly at charlotte and lyney keeps him inconspicuous.

you're not exactly subtle, but you wouldn't be you if you were. he likes it; he never has to guess how you're feeling or what you're thinking — it's all written clearly on your face, and he's known you long enough to know every tell and twitch. he's noticed the way your eyes are glued to his back and shoulders when he and lyney work out, slipping over his arms when he pulls his hair back. how you stiffen when he lifts the stool you're perched on like it's nothing — relocating you just to reach a tool or move you out of the danger zone. he's noticed how your breath hitches when he appears with his helmet on, voice muffled and rough from nerves, and how you squeeze him a bit tighter when his gravelly morning voice goes straight to your core instead of your ears.

he especially knows how your thighs press together when he takes his spot next to you.

you've been laying on one of the benches, accompanying lynette in her aversion to water and love for gossip. arm thrown over your sunglass-covered eyes, legs stretched out to sunbathe while the other three were diving. you'd only pulled your legs up to give him room, knowing he was going to sit next to you after checking everyone's equipment.

or that's what you'd say if anyone asked why you moved so quickly.

because you'd never tell someone you were squeezing them together for a bit of friction, too embarrassed by just how quickly the sight of freminet dripping and wearing something that leaves admittedly very little to the imagination got you flushed from arousal. not that you'd need your imagination...

you'd also never tell them how many times you've stained that exact wetsuit because of just how observant your boyfriend can be. how he's pulled you into his lap after watching you twitch and squirm when looking at him, fiddling with the string of your soaked swimsuit while you grind against him. how he rolls his hips in time with yours as you suck on his tongue, hot breath and moans mixing, your nails dragging red lines across his freckled shoulders. the way he presses his lips to your pulse when dragging your bottoms to the side — hard-on covered by the wetsuit you love so much and slowly becoming drenched in more than just saltwater.

how he'd whisper to be "quiet," despite knowing you'd never get caught; the way his voice rasps against your throat doing more than you'd ever admit. though he can feel the chill that goes down your spine, pussy clenching around nothing at the marks he's trying not to leave and clit catching on the outline of his cock. hips stuttering and voice pitching when his grip on your hips turns almost bruising, pushing you harder against him and dragging your core against the rubber separating you.

he knows that's for later, though; when his siblings and charlotte retire for the night, leaving the two of you alone after making you promise not to have "too much fun" — lyney's words, no matter how useless he and lynette know they are.

for now he pulls your legs into his lap, covering the result of those thoughts of later, and dances his fingers along your thighs "absentmindedly", smiling to himself a little more when they flex under his touch.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Just trying to make it...