𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓎 ✄
↪ Synopsis : She’s unstoppable in every part of life—except when it comes to you. With you, Alysa lets her guard down and just wants to stay close.
↪ 𝓦arnings: smut but fluff at the ends
A/n: litte stressed first time doing smut hehe...
I made a short fic to see if you like it. Let me know what you think in a message or even a comment :P
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𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓎𝓈𝒶 who puts her leg hook over your hips before you even realize she's awake, her fingers threading through your hair as she pulls you down into the pillows with her. The thing about Alysa—she's always thinking, always calculating, running three steps ahead in her head. But when she's with you, she turns off that part of her brain. She gets needy. Her mouth finds yours before words can form, and she's already arching her back, pressing her chest into yours, making these soft little noises against your lips.
She likes it when you take your time. When your fingers trace down her stomach slow enough to make her breath hitch. When you duck your head and press open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone while your hand slides between her thighs. She'll whisper please into your ear, and it's the only time she ever really begs for anything.
There's something about the way sunlight hits her skin in the mornings. She's still half-asleep, hair a mess, lips slightly parted—and she looks so soft. You can't help yourself. You press kisses along her shoulder blade, down her spine, until she stirs and makes that sleepy sound that means she's waking up but doesn't want to.
𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓎𝓈𝒶 rolls over and pulls you on top of her, legs already spreading to fit you between them. She's warm and pliant and she smells like sleep and her shampoo. You kiss her neck and she hums, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back while your hand slides down her stomach, lower, until she gasps and digs her nails in just a little.
𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓎𝓈𝒶 who is getting wet before you even touch her properly. That's what morning does to her—makes her sensitive, makes her want. She bucks her hips into your hand and mumbles right there against your mouth, and when you finally slide into her, she arches and pulls you closer, legs locking around your waist.
Alysa gets sensitive after she comes—but she doesn't want you to stop. Not yet. She'll grab your wrist when you try to pull away, shake her head, breathe out a shaky no, keep going. So you do. You keep touching her, slower now, gentler, and she shudders through it. Her thighs tremble. She makes these broken little sounds that are half-sob, half-laugh, and she hides her face in your neck while you rub her through the oversensitivity.
She trusts you. That's the thing. She trusts you enough to let herself fall apart completely, to be vulnerable, to let you see her like this—messy and undone and raw.
𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓎𝓈𝒶 who , Afterwards, doesn't want to let go. She curls into your side, face pressed into your chest, and she's silent for a while. You run your fingers through her hair, trace patterns on her back, kiss the top of her head. Eventually she'll mumble something—I love you or stay or don't move—and you hold her tighter.
She falls asleep tangled up in you, limbs heavy and warm, and you watch her breathe until you drift off too.
She says it differently when she's close. Breathy. Desperate. Like a prayer. She'll grip your shoulders or tangle her fingers in your hair and whisper it over and over, y/n, y/n, please, don't stop, and the way her voice breaks on the last syllable is enough to make you want to spend the rest of your life making her feel exactly like this.
don't forget to give me your opinion in a message or comments :)
