sunday morning | trafalgar law x f!reader
Sunday mornings are meant for quiet relfection. Except when you have a boyfriend as clingy as Law, who just needs physical touch.
tags : +18 only, established relationship, fluff and smut, morning sex, clingy law, teasing, smug law, fingering and oral sex (f!receving), p in v, creampie
☆ masterlist ★
The morning is quiet in that fragile way Sundays tend to be, soft light slipping through the curtains, the air still fresh from the early morning. You’re already awake, your pillow against the headboard, a notebook on the sheets, you are writing your morning pages.
You turn the page, ready to start a new one, when you feel movement behind you. You don’t pay much attention, because you know from these small shifts that Law is about to wake up. You take advantage of the calm a little longer before you inevitably end up with an armful of a warm, sleep-dazed Law clinging to you.
You see, Law has this tendency — an adorable little tendency — to be excessively clingy when he wakes up. He always needs to be close to you, within arm’s reach at all times. He would never admit it, he might not even realize it himself, but he genuinely loves waking up next to you and starting his day knowing you’re warm and safe with him.
So when you feel an arm wrap around your waist, you don’t even react, simply continuing to write in your notebook.
“…why are you up,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost accusatory, his warm body pressing closer to yours.
“Good morning to you too,” you reply naturally, not stopping your writing.
You feel him rub his face against your lower back. Then, naturally, as if it were second nature, his hand slips under your t-shirt, soon followed by his face as well, like he was hiding. “Come back to sleep…” he grumbles, his warm breath pressing against your skin.
“I’m writing.”
He sighs, his cold nose brushing against your back. You keep writing, completely unfazed by his clingy morning behavior.
For a while, he goes still again. So still, in fact, that you almost forget he’s there. His arm remains loosely draped around your waist, his breathing slow and even against your back. And just like that, you slip back into your writing. Your thoughts flow more easily now, your pen moving faster across the page. You almost forget Law for a second. Almost. Because then he shifts again.
A quiet groan escapes him, low and drawn-out, his grip tightening just slightly as he presses himself closer, as if it were possible . “…cold,” he mumbles, though there’s nothing cold about the way he’s practically glued to you.
You huff out a quiet laugh, not even looking back. “You’re not cold.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just buries his face deeper against you, as if that alone proves his point. “…you’re not here,” he adds after a moment, voice quieter this time, almost sulking.
You shake your head, amused. “I am here. I’m just busy.”
“…don’t like that,” he says after a pause.
You smile to yourself, eyes still on the page. “Then you’ll have to wait. I’m in the flow right now.”
Another pause. Longer this time. You think that he might give up again. Drift back to sleep. But then his hand moves. It slides along your side, slow, almost lazy, like he’s not fully aware of it. Down to your hip, then back up again, tracing the same path without purpose.
Your pen falters for a split second, but you try to ignore it and keep writing.
His fingers drift again, this time lower, brushing along your thigh through the fabric, then back up, then down again aimless and wandering.
“…Law.”
A soft hum in response. You can feel that his touch isn’t insistent, like he’s grounding himself without thinking about it, just to help him fall back asleep. But still, your grip tightens slightly around your pen. “You’re distracting me.”
“…am not,” he murmurs instantly, voice still thick with sleep.
You glance down at the page. You’ve barely written a full line.
“Law.”
“Mmh?”
“You are.”
His hand stills for a second — like he’s actually processing what you said — before shifting again, just as slowly as before. “…not doing anything,” he insists, almost offended, even as his fingers drift along your inner thigh this time, absent. “I’m just holding you.”
You almost laugh, because technically, yes. He is. But his hand drifts again, tracing your inner thigh before going back up, and his hand lingered on your panties for a second too long, before settling on your stomach.
Goosebumps burst on your skin before you regain your senses. “Stop being sneaky on purpose and let me write my stuff, then I will cuddle you,” you scold him like a child.
He exhales, and you can almost picture the pout on his face. You resume your writing as Law finally lets go of your waist, lazily resting his hand on your thigh, far from anywhere sensitive.
You allow yourself a few seconds to breathe, slowly gathering your thoughts again. Your eyes linger on the page for a long moment, a sentence left unfinished in the middle, the flow of your thoughts slightly overwhelmed because of Law.
“...You stopped,” he eventually says.
You exhale slowly, setting your pen down on the notebook. “Because I can’t focus.”
And maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because his hand immediately slides between your thighs, his thumb pressing against your slit. A surprised moan slips from you before you quickly move a hand down to stop him.
“What? So I’m the reason you can’t focus, or is your mind just all over the place?”
“Fuck you, Law. Stop being greedy.”
He laughs softly. “Oh, but I’m not.” His mouth presses against the small of your back, and this time you can tell it’s intentional, just barely above your panties. “Keep writing, darling. I’ll keep myself busy on my own.”
And you know he’s already ruined everything, but you still try — try — to focus on your writing again. Especially when you feel his fingers slip beneath your panties, teasing you for a moment before one finger brushes against your sensitive clit. You tremble slightly as Law takes obvious pleasure in teasing you like this.
“Mmh… Law, that’s not fair,” you complain, still stubbornly trying to focus on your writing.
“What is it, love? I’m just trying to keep myself busy, that’s all,” he replies in a condescending tone.
“‘That’s all’ my ass,” you snap, trying to kick him away, but all you do is give him more room to touch you, and he immediately takes advantage of it, sliding a finger inside you. “Ahh, fuck—”
“I’ll take care of your ass another day. Right now, I really need to play with this pussy.”
And then you feel another finger slide into you, stealing your breath away with the sudden intrusion. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, feeling his fingers thrust in and out painfully slowly.
He bites your hip, catching the edge of your panties between his teeth in the process. He tugs on the fabric slightly before letting the elastic snap back against your skin. A startled gasp leaves your lips as his fingers inside you become more and more overwhelming. He fingers you shamelessly now, and maybe your brain is still too sleepy because you can already feel yourself getting close far too quickly.
“Mmh… Law, I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, feeling your whole body loosen.
“Yeah?” His voice is low and unbearably hot. He moves between your legs, forcing you to spread them wider to make room for him, his face now directly in front of your warm, wet pussy. “Who told you you could cum already?”
You whine, but he silences you quickly by pulling his fingers out just to smack your pussy. At the same time, he slides your panties off, grabs your legs to spread them even wider, and spits right onto the center of your pussy.
You moan as his tongue finally moves against your pussy lips. He circles your clit for a few seconds before sucking on it gently.
“You are so mean,” you complain, your hips pressing instinctively against him. You hear him groan in response, tightening his grip on your legs even more.
Somewhere beside you, your journal falls onto the floor, the sound distracting you for a split second. Blindly, your hand reaches out, trying to search for it.
“Shh, stay with me, baby.” His hand glides up your body before he gestures with two fingers, silently asking for your hand, which you give him immediately. “Be good for me, yeah?”
You’re not even sure if it’s a question, but you nod anyway as he returns to that sweet torture between your thighs. He looks up at you from where he is, and those sleepy bedroom eyes are devastatingly hot. Soft, incoherent mumbles start spilling from your lips as he works you apart, savoring just how wet you are for him, every quiet slurp echoing straight through your brain.
“Fuck— fuck, yeah, Law,” you gasp, squeezing his hand tightly while your other hand gets lost in the sheets. Your hips keep moving against his mouth, and he grumbles every time you do, never letting up. He’s relentless with his tongue, persistent against your clit, and you can already feel yourself beginning to shake.
“Please, please, please,” you beg, already so close to your release.
When he stops, your free hand tangles into his hair, almost as if you’re silently begging him to continue just a little longer. A strained groan leaves you as you struggle to steady your breathing again.
“Why did you do that?” you ask with a frown. He knew perfectly well how close you were. “How dare you to be mean like that.”
He laughs softly. “Don’t make me laugh, honey. You were the one giving me attitude earlier.”
“What? I was just trying to write…”
“You were so mean to me,” he says almost innocently as he pushes his boxers down, his cock already hard and glistening. “Couldn't even comfort your boyfriend who only wanted a pathetic little cuddle.” He teases, his hand on his dick, pumping agonizingly slowly. “I’m only giving you what you deserve.”
You can feel his warmth between your thighs now, but your mind is still foggy from the interrupted release, too overwhelmed to think clearly. When he brushes teasingly against you, the next complaint dies in your throat immediately.
“If you want anything from me,” he murmurs, “you’ll have to behave. Do you understand?”
You pout, already reaching for him instinctively, craving the contact despite yourself. “You’re just so clingy in the morning…” you defend weakly, fingertips brushing against his abdomen.
“Oh really? And who’s the clingier one now?”
He catches your wrist easily and pins your hand above your head against the pillow. You grumble under your breath anyway, hips unconsciously pressing closer to him. “Be nice,” and with that he enters his tip inside. You both exhale at the same time, him burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Please, Law…” you whisper pitifully, already impatient, your body seeking more without permission.
“What, baby?” His voice is rough against your skin, warm enough to make you shiver. “Ask properly if you want something.”
Your hips keep moving restlessly, but he controls the distance between you effortlessly, never letting you have enough. Another needy sound escapes you.
“Want you, Law…” you admit after a moment. “Please.”
A low laugh rumbles from his chest, almost cruel in how satisfied he sounds. “Mmh fuck– what do you want from me baby? Just one more time.”
“Ahhn– please… want your cock please…”, your voice trembling with need imploring Law.
“There we go.” He leans closer, and the sudden intimacy tears a broken sound from your throat. “That’s it, sweet, sweet girl.”
Your nails dig into his hips automatically as you cling to him, body arching beneath his. Law buries his face against your neck, his breathing uneven now too.
Your breaths grow shorter and shorter, as his heartbeat pounds heavily against your body, matching the slow, relentless rhythm he sets between you. Every rough exhale against your ear sends another shiver down your spine.
“Hm, yeah… so good…” you manage weakly.
“It’s good, baby?” he asks, voice hoarse right beside your ear. “Finally got what you wanted?”
You can only hum in response, too overwhelmed to form proper words, and he laughs quietly at your laziness.
Law’s movements stay steady and deep, enough to keep you completely focused on him and nothing else. Every now and then he mutters something low against your skin, teasing you on purpose but so soft at the same time, and each word only makes your grip tighten around him.
“Law, you’re annoying.”
“Ohh, my poor baby,” he mocks softly. “Am I bothering you?”
“Yea–.” You breathe.
“And yet you’re still holding onto me this tight, sweetheart.” You grumble under your breath, making him laugh quietly. “There it is,” he murmurs. “My clingy girl getting all needy again.”
“I‘m not clingy… you’re talking too much.”
“Am I, sweet thing ?” He kisses the corner of your mouth smugly.
“Yeah, you’re bothering me,” you complain again.
“Really, my angel? Am I annoying you?” You hum. “Why are you so wet for me then? Listen how much she loves it.”
Your face immediately heats up at his words, and you turn your head away with an annoyed little huff, arms tightening around him despite yourself. Law laughs quietly against your skin, completely entertained by your reaction.
“Aw, don’t be shy baby” he teases softly, leaning closer. “You’re making it really hard for me to behave.”
You grumble under your breath, as his hands tighten slightly around your waist as he pulls you closer.
He chases your mouth and finds it easily, unable to refuse his kisses. Your tongues slide against each other messily, teeth knocking together every now and then. When you moan into his mouth, he groans softly in return before gently biting down on your lower lip.
“So noisy,” he murmurs against your lips, though his voice sounds just as wrecked as yours.
You whine at the teasing once again and he immediately smiles against your mouth, clearly pleased with himself. One of his hands slips into your hair, tilting your head back just enough for him to deepen the kiss while his forehead briefly presses against yours.
“Look at you,” he mutters quietly. “Getting all worked up this early in the morning.”
You try to complain again, but it dies into another breathless sound when he kisses you harder, like he wants to devour every reaction.
Your fingers tighten instinctively in the fabric of his shirt, and Law notices immediately. A smug little smile pulls at the corner of his mouth when he pulls away just enough to look at you properly, grey eyes heavy with amusement and something softer underneath.
“You talk too much,” you mumble weakly, trying to glare at him again, but he just laughs quietly, brushing his nose against yours in a way that feels annoyingly affectionate for someone who spent the last ten minutes teasing you to death.
“Cute,” he whispers. “You get all soft after whining so much.”
“I’m literally still mad at you.”
“Mmh.” He kisses you once more, slower this time. “Sure you are, baby.”
His hand slides slowly along your body before he hooks one of your thighs around his waist, your other leg naturally following right after.
The sudden shift in angle leaves you completely exposed. Law takes advantage of it immediately, thrusting deep enough to steal the breath straight from your lungs. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a loud moan spills from your mouth.
“Law— ahh—”
“Yeah… just like that,” he rasps, his composure finally cracking. The smugness fades from his voice, replaced by something rougher that makes your stomach tighten.
He doesn’t give you a second to recover. His pace picks up instantly, abandoning the slow torture from earlier for something deeper. The mattress creaks beneath you, quiet gasps and the slick sound of skin against skin filling the room.
Law shifts his hips just enough to hit deeper, forcing another helpless sound from your throat. Your vision blurs at the edges. One hand tangles desperately into his dark hair while the other clutches at his back, trying to keep yourself grounded as the pressure in your stomach tightens unbearably.
“Look at me,” he says softly, voice strained.
You force your eyes open.
Law is staring down at you through messy dark strands falling into his face, his grey eyes blown wide and hazy with desire. He looks completely wrecked, and his look only sends another rush of heat through your body.
“Law… please, wanna cum now,” you whimper, your hips lifting helplessly toward him.
“I’ve got you baby,” he murmurs immediately, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. His pace turns relentless after that, deep thrusts driving the last coherent thought out from your mind. “That’s it, baby,” he groans against your ear. “Come for me.”
Your whole body tightens around him as pleasure crashes through you all at once, leaving you trembling beneath him. You cry out his name, your fingers digging into his back while wave after wave rolls through you as Law groans low in response.
“Fuck— that’s it, good girl… so fucking good for me.” Another deep thrust drags your orgasm out even longer, leaving your whole body trembling beneath him. “Where do you want me, baby?”
You clench your jaw, barely able to think straight anymore. “Inside… inside, please…”
A breathless laugh escapes him. “Yeah? Cute thing wants me deep inside her, hm?” How he’s still able to tease you at a moment like this so close to losing control himself is beyond you. “Fuck, baby—”
His rhythm stutters before he finally buries himself as deep as he can, low groans spilling from his throat while he shudders hard against you, holding you close as he finally comes undone too.
The silence afterward feels thick and warm, broken only by the sound of your breathing.
Law stays close for a long moment, forehead pressed against your shoulder, chest rising and falling heavily against yours. The frantic intensity from before melts away completely, replaced by a heavy morning laziness.
When he finally shifts, it’s slow and reluctant, a quiet grunt escaping him as he pulls away just enough to make you wince softly. Without giving you any space, he immediately turns onto his side and pulls you back against his chest, one arm sliding firmly around your waist like it belongs there. As he settles you against him, he leans in and presses some kisses to your shoulder, unexpectedly gentle.
“Tired?” he murmurs, voice low and rough from sleep and exertion.
You hum faintly in response, already melting against him without thinking. You lie there boneless and exhausted, eyes drifting sleepily toward the floor beside the bed. Your notebook is still there, abandoned face-down on the hardwood, several pages bent awkwardly beneath it.
“My notebook,” you mumble hoarsely. “You ruined my pages.”
Law lets out a quiet laugh against the back of your neck, entirely unapologetic.
His hand slides absentmindedly across your stomach, his fingers tracing slow circles against your skin while his eyes drift shut again. “You can write tomorrow, darling,” he murmurs sleepily. “Today you’re staying here.”