I'd wake up to you everyday if I could
oliver aiku x fem!reader (nsfw)
Light filters in through her closed eyelids as she pulls herself from dreaming. Sleep clings like taffy to her skin, sticky and stretched and saccharine sweet as she arches into the crisp sheets and flutters her lashes open, a smile teasing at her lips. Blinking past the haze in her eyes she sees that the ceiling is painted in streaks of amber, the purple orchid on her vanity dappled in morning light. The late-spring air is blissfully warm against her bare skin.Â
Before she can roll from the bed she feels the weight against her waist go taught and she is pulled back into a firm chest, the action pulling from her a startled burst of laughter. Oliverâs skin is scorching against her own and she can feel more than hear his grumbling.
âWhere dâyou think youâre going?â He presses the words into the arch of her throat, the rough drag of his voice enough to send shivers skittering up her spine.
âKitchen,â she gasps, trying to ignore the steady stroke of fingers over her navel and ribs.
Oliver hums, scruff tickling her jaw. âNah.â
She releases another, slightly more strangled laugh. âExcuse me?â
âToo early,â he insists, pushing her down onto her back with ease, even as she half-heartedly struggles in his grip. The strength of him makes her dizzy. Sheâs never thought of herself as vain, but nowadays she finds it difficult to drag her eyes away from the ripples of taught muscle beneath his skin. âRelax, doll. Itâs the weekend.â
She blinks up at him, dazed and dream-swept. Golden light haloes his rumpled hair and his mismatched eyes are lidded. Desire simmers in that gaze, but beneath that he looks overwhelmingly fond. Like a man in love.
The thought sends a fresh wave of heat rushing to her face and has her turning a cheek into the pillow. He drags her gaze back to his with the curl of his fingers over her jaw.
The breadth of his shoulders swallows her whole, blocks out the fluttering curtains and dawn-drenched room and any promise of an early start to her day evaporates beneath her tongue.Â
Yoga can wait, she decides. This is as good of a workout as any, and heâs been training so hard lately that lazy mornings have become a treasured rarity. Â
He drags a thumb over her lips, presses down until plush skin swells on either side, then dips down to replace the digit with his mouth.Â
âWas gonna make you coffee,â she murmurs into the kiss, swallowing down his answering laugh.
âDonât need it,â says Oliver, licking into her mouth. He trails a line of fire along her jaw and the shell of her ear. âGot something better right here.â
He bites down on her shoulder, pressing fully against her front until she can feel him hot and heavy against the apex of her thighs.
She shudders, gasping and promptly forgets how to say anything but, âOliver.â
He laughs into her skin, kisses pressed like promises over the swell of her breasts. âYouâre so whiny in the morning.â
She wraps her legs around his hips, grinding up into him as best she can, feeling hot pleasure spark through her veins. Oliver groans, chin dropping to his chest as he pulls back just enough to watch her writhe.Â
âSo pretty, baby.â He flicks at the bud of her nipple and gives another slow grind against her molten core, mouth stretched into a nasty smirk. âAnd so wet. You dreaminâ of me again?â
âAlways,â she gasps, fingers tangling through his hair and tugging him down for another messy open-mouthed kiss.
He hums against her lips, skating a hand down between their bodies and sinking two fingers into her heat, curving up with a precision that has her whining, much to his amusement. Before Oliver sheâd always imagined morning sex to be gentle, slow and sleepy and sweet.Â
But with him itâs none of those things. Fresh from sleep, his usual iron-clad control wavers. Most days heâll build up to things, draw them out until the tension pulls taught and then just before she snapsâjust before she breaksâheâll give her what she wants.
But in the morning he has no such restraint.
His fingers drive into her again and again and again until sheâs writhing and mumbling nonsense. He sports an open mouthed grin and sheâs certain heâs talking her through it but she canât hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears and the molten need in her core.
Her orgasm creeps up on her lightning fast, pleasure so sharp itâs blinding. Her legs shake where theyâre hooked over his hips and her back bows up. She thinks she might be drooling, just a little.Oliver laughs, letting her ride it out on his hand whilst lining himself up with the other. âThere ya go baby, good fuckinâ morning.â
discoholicmusic
germansingergirl
prguitarman
