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girlsworldillusion · 4 months

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I'd let the world burn for you

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Summary: Amid the severe consequences of war, Aemond finds himself alone, without the presence and support of his young and sweet wife, who insists on staying away from him, afraid of who he has become. He has been a respectful and patient husband. But tonight he feels like he has finally reached his limit.

Author's note: Please, pay attention to the tags. This story contains sensitive topics, such as: +18, SEX, SEVERE INTERNAL CONFLICT, DUB-CON/NON-CON, POSSESSIVE/OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, EMOTIONAL DEPENDENCY, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP AND MORE.

word count: 6k

There is no specific description of which house the reader belongs to, so feel free to fill this in as you wish.

English is not my native language, forgive me for any spelling mistakes.

Good reading!

He can taste vomit in his esophagus.

Aemond knows it wouldn't be too difficult to get out what little he ate. He coughs as discreetly as he can into the back of his hand before taking off his eye patch, wanting to splash some cold water on his face and throat. He pretends not to notice how his hands are a little shaky as he pulls the gloves off of them, cupping his fingers inside the basin left by the servants on the table. The cool water feels refreshing on his hot skin, and with a satisfied hiss, he looks up, staring directly at the reflection of his own face in the mirror.

The flickering flames of the fire near the wall provide no comprehensive illumination, and he is honestly relieved by that. What little he can see is disturbing enough. His single lilac eye is bloodshot, his silver hair is disheveled, so different from normal. Paleness in the face, sunken cheeks. The subtle glow of the blue stone in his other eye and the deep scars around it only add a dying touch to his ghostly visage.

Another deep tug wracks his stomach and he leans forward, gripping the sides of the table with abandon, preparing to actually throw up this time. But nothing comes, nothing but the painful, nauseating feeling in his body.

He can't forget.

It's all his doing, after all. It's all his fault.

The death of all those people, the desolation of the entire Riverlands. It's all his fault.

Any feeling of greatness and power that previously inhabited his body no longer existed. His superiority and confidence swept away by the tide until he was spat out on the shore with nothing but pain and trauma.

He is a hypocrite and he knows it.

Aemond is not a good person. He doesn't want to fool anyone with his anxiety attack, he definitely doesn't need to take on the role of the poor regretful guy. He doesn't regret what he did, he doesn't regret doing what was absolutely necessary for the good of his family. He could never regret this. And he knows that tomorrow, a week from now, or a month from now, he will do exactly the same thing again if necessary. There are no limits to what he is willing to do to and for those to whom he is loyal.

He can't even dare deny liking it all.

When he's on Vhagar's saddle, with the world in flames just beneath them and the addictive power to decide for good or ill for those poor, hopeless souls, he can swear he's never felt anything better. There's something disturbingly liberating about embracing the monster that resides in his chest. It's surprising to him how good it feels to be ruthless, to take on the role of the uncontrollable beast everyone says he is (rightfully so).

It wasn't always like this. But a series of violent and tragic actions that may or may not have been intentional earned Aemond more than just an ominous codename. They gave him respect; fear. Aemond One-Eye, the son without expectations, the child without any prominence. No more.

He feels ruthless when he is in the skies, dictating the fate of humanity. It gives him power. He is powerful now, he is no longer the boy forgotten by everyone. The feeling of being superior pumps hard through his veins until he goes wild, makes him feel like he's crushing people under the soles of his boots. He is more powerful. Their lives depend solely on the way his hand moves and it turns out that, to their misfortune and terror, his hands are wrapped around the saddle of the largest dragon in the world. It is difficult to be sensible and godly when there is so much power at his command. He is more powerful. There is nothing that can stop him. He feels invincible, unstoppable. He doesn't just enjoy it - he worships this feeling.

At least until it's all over.

When the dust settles and all that is left is the consequence of his actions, it is then that he quietly withers away.

He killed them. All of them. His hands are stained with blood and ash and it's all his fault. He has separated families forever, traumatized so many souls with insurmountable depression and pain and it is all his fault. Adults, elderly, children, babies. All dead. Because of him. Hoarse screams of terror and fear, all begging for a mercy that would never come - could never come. Not by his hands. Not when he had a family and a purpose he was so loyal to.

Aemond worships the sense of power that comes with a reputation for being ruthless and regrets nothing he has done and will do for his duty. Unfortunately, this does not mean that he does not suffer the consequences in equal proportion.

Another sigh. He drops his head and presses his fingers against the edge of the table. He closes his eye so tightly that patches of white light explode into his vision, each labored breath makes him lean forward and clench his teeth. The pain is impossible to ignore – it shakes his insides, leaves his limbs trembling.

"Is this hurting you?" a soft voice asks, a small, fragile thing, almost impossible to hear - if it weren't for the fact that he lives to hear the sound of that voice. He knows this, and so does the owner of the voice, both fully aware of this dangerous dependence. “Pretending to be a God, I mean.”

Aemond feels his heart beat faster, the angelic sound of your voice rescuing him from the merciless depths of his own mind, making him slowly raise his head as he stares at the place where the voice came from. He almost can't believe what he heard. But there you are, sitting on your bed, surrounded by comfortable sheets and pillows, your wide doe eyes catching the moonlight and fire flames in the dark of night, shining like stars.

His sweet wife.

He simply looks at you, not offering any kind of response right away. Not because he doesn't want to. But because he's too surprised to hear your voice and see your face to form words at the moment. Aemond doesn't know how he ended up here, in your private chambers - the place he hasn't been welcome in for some time. He was supposed to go to his chambers. Was he that distraught and distracted? Could the confusion clouding his senses have unconsciously led him directly to the person he needs most at the moment?

He looks around quickly just to confirm that, yes, there is no doubt that he is in your chambers. He didn't intend to do that. He shouldn't be here, invading your privacy and ignoring your request that he keep distance. Of course, his longing and need for you made him consider such a thing countless times. Regardless of your wishes, he was your husband; he had a right to be here. But he never did that. You don't want him in your bed anymore and you've made that clear. And Aemond was not ignorant or even insensitive enough to pretend not to understand your reasons. You had a lot of them and he knows.

You were not made for cruelty. Your innocence and purity made you unable to be aware of the horrible things he did and still treat him the same way as before. You were afraid of him now, just like everyone else. The blood of many was on his hands and you knew it, just as you knew he regretted nothing, and that he would not stop this - not until victory was achieved.

You didn't agree with that, you never did, not even before the marriage. But what could a young woman do in the world they lived in? You were just a piece on a board game, an ace up his sleeve used by your father specifically to provide armies and loyalty to the crown in exchange for a marriage and a more than convenient name for your family.

Aemond knew from the beginning that you didn't want to marry him; how could you after all? You barely knew him beyond the questionable reputation that surrounded him, and a dangerous family clash was about to break out in the kingdom - this was definitely not the right environment for romance to blossom. But you did your duty. You had been an exemplary wife in the short two months of peace that followed your marriage. You treated him with respect and patience, slowly opening your heart to him with each passing day. He wasn't the most talkative or the most sensitive husband and yet you showed empathy for his limitations, accepting what he gave you with gentle smiles and rosy cheeks, without demanding anything more. So sweet. So inocent.

It was no surprise the feeling that welled up in his chest.

Aemond was obsessed before he even realized it. Needing your gentle attentions like a flower needs the sun. He clung to you as his only comfort in an almost bleak existence, he became more and more obsessed with you and you didn't notice. You read with him, walked through the gardens with him and talked to him as you always did, kind and polite. And every day he felt hungrier, pushing the limits of restraint. You welcomed him into your bed every night, welcoming him between your legs as if he belonged there - and he did, indeed. Aemond's appetite for you and you alone knew no bounds.

But he wasn't the man you married anymore, was he?

You fear him now, any and all advances he's made with you over the past few months have vanished into thin air like the ashes he's so used to seeing now. The feelings he was carefully cultivating in your chest now seem to have sunk so deep into your being that he thinks they no longer even exist. You no longer craved his attention; the touch of softness and affection, whenever “husband” dripped from your mouth, was absent. And now all he could do was want.

Aemond doesn't look away from you, not wanting to miss this moment for anything, not after being deprived of it for so long. And you look back at him from where you sit on the bed, chin lifted in false courage. You looks at him with your bright eyes and high cheekbones, which seem even more highlighted in the warm lighting around your bodies.

He may have entered your chambers out of pure unconscious instinct, out of nothing but silent desperation. His body guiding him when his mind no longer could. But now that he's here, he doesn't know how he didn't realize it from the beginning. It's impossible to think about anything other than you. You, you, you.

At this point, deaths at his hands no longer existed. Not his pains or the weights he carries, not revenge, not duty. Anything. Absolutely nothing. There is only this moment, between him, a boy who so wanted to be enough for those he loves and the young girl who is illuminated by the light of the flames.

He feels it. It's not new. That strange impulse that draws all the attention of the environment around him to you and you alone; an almost painful need between his teeth to take a bite and not let go, to have it with all your heart and nothing less.

"Nothing to say?" You press and he's not even embarrassed by the fact that he doesn't remember what you said before. He should leave. It's all he thinks, even as he takes an uncertain step closer to your bed. And that's enough for you to immediately tense up, wrapping your small hands in the sheets to subtly pull them towards you. You are hiding yourself. Hiding yourself from him.

Aemond should leave, continue respecting your limits.

If this had been another night, maybe he would have done it. If the smell of smoke and dragon scales hadn't been trapped in the leather of his war clothes, as well as the dust of ash, then perhaps he could have left. If he couldn't smell the insistent scent of charred bodies and decimated land in his nostrils, taking permanent root in his lungs, perhaps he could respect your innocence.

Not even Aemond knew how on edge he already was. Your refusal of his proximity was just the final push to his downfall.

He adores you. He worships the ground you walk on. He respected your decisions and stayed away much longer than any other husband would have done. And this is how you repay him?

Aemond narrows the only functional eye he has left. You don't react, nothing more than another protective grip on the sheets and a slow swallow of saliva. He wants you so much and the thought enrages him. Why? Why does he feel this way? He desperately wants to punish you for making him feel this way. He wants to punish himself for even thinking about doing this to you.

You left him like this; nothing but a mess. When would you finally accept him for who he is? When would you understand that some cruelties were necessary for the final goal to be achieved? When would you see that everything he did and would do was solely for his family? For you. To keep you safe. When would he be enough?

He grits his teeth and feels his entire body tense with thoughts. He hates it; he hates the way you confuse him and make him feel all these terrible emotions. It makes he feels weak. The temptation of the slightest chance of your affection suffocates his common sense. He feels his hands shaking. He'd been so blinded by the hopeful, innocent vision he constantly saw you through that he fooled himself into thinking he was on your mind as much as you were on his all this time.

"Aemond?" You whisper, sounding more uncertain than before, disturbed by his extended silence as he slowly approaches the bed. He keeps looking at you the whole time, letting you glimpse the flames of fire reflected in the icy sapphire in his eye. He adores you, with every fiber of his being. But the flash of fear that shines in your eyes in response makes him stretch the corner of his lip in a malicious smile. He couldn't help it, there's something sweet and pure about you that makes him constantly waver between wanting to protect you and wanting to destroy you.

You try not to weaken before him, but Aemond immediately notices the way your body is a little trembling when his hand, that same hand that drags the musk of leather and death, passes through the fabric of the sheets, spreading lightning over your legs. You don't stop him, but your eyes flash with a frightened warning, a warning he ignores tonight. His palm flattens against your ribs, daring to caress, to feel the linen of the sheets beneath his fingers, the softness of your flesh beneath it, and you squeak an off-key sound, pulling the cocoon of blankets and furs up to hide you.

A small annoyed growl leaves his lips and his other hand quickly covers yours, stopping you from continuing.

"No. Enough of that." He says in a low but firm tone, looking sternly into your eyes. You part your lips, surprised by his behavior, and try to pull the hand still trapped by his, but he doesn't let you go. "That's enough, wife."

He thinks you might try to deny it, but you fall silent, slowly relaxing against his grip on your hand. Aemond wants to purr at this, wants to praise you and spoil you, because you are so good, so good. His good girl. Even when you're crushing his heart between your delicate hands.

It's not your fault, he tells himself. It's not your fault that he's obsessed with you, driven crazy by the idea of you. Aemond can't even focus properly, even when you're in front of him, defenseless and at the mercy of his whims. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest from pure ecstasy and excitement at the same time. And he can feel, on top of it all, the blood flowing to his hard cock, making it swell beneath his black riding pants. He feels embarrassed by his actions, but at the same time excited, just by the little things you do, by everything you are to him.

“Something is wrong with me...” He says, more to himself than to you, gently pushing a strand of your soft hair behind your ear, sliding his thumb in a gentle caress across your delicate earlobe. “You're in my house. You're in my house and I don't want you to leave. Never." He approaches your face, sliding his fingers from your ear to the side of your face, until he holds your small chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I need you." He continues, ignoring how honest and frank he looks - weak. “I keep thinking of ways to make this happen,” the more he talks, the faster you breathe, sweet little sighs near his lips, calling to him like a siren’s song… “I want to ruin you. Because I think that's the only way you won't leave me."

The intensity of his words scares you, he realizes, he sees how your eyes fill with tears and your eyebrows twitch. But even in the dim lighting of the flames, he can see how the tops of your cheeks turn red, how your chest trembles with the breath that catches there...you want him.

It's a shame you're so willing to keep him away.

But he can't stop.

Aemond closes the distance in an instant, pushing you down until he traps your body beneath his, feeling the contours of your soft, supple curves against him; he shudders. He caresses your face one last time before moving down, ignoring your hesitation and your useless efforts to push him away. Quick as a viper, he grabs the hand that moves to push against his chest, wrapping it with the other still attached to his, holding your wrists tightly above your head.

You cry out at the pressure on his wrists, the long lashes over your eyes fluttering, pleading. "A-Aemond, what are you doing?" you stutter. "Please, please... I said I needed it - please give me some more-"

"Time? Oh yes, you said it." He hums thoughtfully, placing a thigh between your legs, dipping his face into the crook of your neck to breathe in the fresh fragrance of your shower, snoring contentedly with your naturally sweet scent. Intoxicated by your scent, he trails his lips along the slender column of your neck before stopping at the shell of your ear. “I’m so sorry, dear, I’ve waited too long. We’ve both waited too long.” He intones, intoxicated by your presence. You sob once but don't say anything else, choosing to turn your face away from him. Aemond snorts a laugh at that, but doesn't stop you, preferring to leave a tender, wet kiss on your cheek.

Squeezing your wrists with one hand, he allows the other to slide slowly down your body, almost reverentially. He paused at the delicate laces holding the front of your nightdress before untying them with deft fingers. The front opens, exposing your silky, flushed skin to his hungry gaze. He doesn't have the patience to remove the fabric completely from your body, so he just lowers it enough so that your breasts are exposed. He bites his lip, holding a curse between his clenched teeth. When he presses his bare palm to your perky breasts, he tastes your trembling innocence, your soft flesh.

So beautiful.

So pure.

From the beginning you were his opposite, your delicate hands, as irritatingly clean as his are stained with blood and ash.

As much as he truly suffers from the consequences of his actions, he never regrets them, because he knows they are right - necessary. There was only the future to shape, the past should stay where it belongs; behind him. Something he had learned through much pain, but unfortunately, his sweet wife had not yet. But as he runs his greedy fingers down your body, feeling the goosebumps on your soft skin with each touch, Aemond knows he scares you as much as he excites you. You can't hide it from him. Your obviously involuntary response to him only makes him fiercer, hungrier. He wants to ruin you from the inside, until you can't bear to live a single day without his touch.

He allows you to continue your theatrics, still stubbornly staring at the wall while pretending his actions don't affect you. There's something almost too tempting about it, in fact; It's a matter of honor for him. He will break your masks and he will take pleasure in doing so.

Letting his fingers slide down your sides, Aemond's lips wander. He kisses the hole in your throat, moving down with wet, licked breaths to your breasts, tasting you. You gasp softly and grip tight fists on the bed sheets when he captures a soft nipple with a slow suck of lips and a teasing scrape of teeth, your body curling beneath him tightly. He smiles with your nipple still between his lips, leaving wide, warm trails of his tongue on the little perky bud. His hips slide against the inside of your parted thighs, pushing the hardened bulge in his pants against your pussy once.

You bite your lip and close your eyes, but he doesn't stop. With another thrust he uses his strength to push you back onto the bed, the bed you shared many nights with him, to fuck you into the warm sheets. It's almost too much for him to finally feel your little pussy once again, even through the leather of his pants and your delicate nightwear. But he continues with slow, strong thrusts, rubbing his cock against you in a way that teases your clit, the smell and heat of his effort wafting throughout his body; sweat, dragon, fire, ash, blood, death - all mixed together, merging with your own sweet, intoxicating scent and, of course, the unmistakable scent of sex.

Before the chaos broke out, Aemond was quite skilled at this, at driving you crazy. A part of him is extraordinarily pleased to find that he still remembers correctly, especially when a press of his fingers and a twirl of his thumb on your slobbery nipple makes you gasp. He wants to see you, to see you blush and sweat, looking ruined for him. Gods, oh yes, Aemond wants this so much. He can't stop, he can never stop, especially with you singing so sweetly to him. When you arch into his touch and whisper his name softly, like a secret no one can discover, his breath hitching. Aemond can't stop.

A specific thrust makes you let out a high-pitched meow, your hands pulling at the linen on the sheets and he moans along, releasing your breast with a wet pop to look at your face. You have your lips parted, your long eyelashes touching the top of your cheeks, your eyebrows furrowed in sweet agony. He thrusts a little faster, rubbing your clit with more pressure, taking in your presence and the feeling of your tiny, supple body, preening at every sound that leaves your lips.

Sounds so sweet, so beautiful; he considers himself a sinner with the way something so innocent and angelic makes his blood boil and his cock throb with need inside his pants, surely soaking the fabric with the way he feels himself leaking.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me, baby...”

And yet, he doesn't think he cares about dying by your hands when things turn out like this. He is admitting defeat without any embarrassment now; he can bear the dull weight of war, he can bear his own mind trying to destroy him at every turn, he can bear the betrayal of his own family and the demands of his duties. He can bear with anything.

Anything except being without you.

With an impatient grunt, his fingers tug at the soft skirt of your nightdress, bunching the thing at your waist as he rips your underwear down your legs. You don't try to stop him, but you don't try to help him either, remaining almost motionless against the bed, and he feels like he can growling at you like an animal for that - stubborn girl. He hates and loves this about you in equal intensity. He's almost rough and punishing as he hooks the back of your knee into the inside of his elbow, pushing your leg up to your breasts. And then you're giving up your fight, sighing - all anxious expression, furrowing your eyebrows and biting your lip as he hurriedly unzips his pants and pulls them down just enough to pull his cock out, slamming the wet, throbbing head over your clit before sliding his entire length along your folds.

You moan, he moans. The slide is wet and he can't tell if it's all you, if it's all him, if it's all both. He doesn't care, honestly. All that matters is how his cock is thrusting into your heat, hitting your clit with luscious pokes, coaxing more of those sweet sounds from your pretty lips.

He hooks your other leg in the crook of his elbow and does exactly what he did with the other, trapping you between him and the bed in a position where your entire pussy is presented to him. With his hands flat beside your head, he brings his face closer to yours, the leather covering his chest pushing your knees further into your breasts. You moan through your teeth, unable to do anything but tighten your hands around his shoulders. He smiles slowly, drunk on the sensations, still gently sliding the length of his cock into your folds.

Aemond doesn't look away from you, enchanted by the way you dance between looking at the sapphire stone and the deep lilac of his functional eye. You've always done this, he thinks - saying one was as beautiful as the other, impossible to choose.

“I’m giving myself to you, love…I’m yours.” He whispers softly, husky, needy to you. "Will you do the same from now on?"

He’s so close he feel how your heart races violently at his words, slamming against your ribcage as you take a deep breath. Every expression on your flushed face makes him sure you're going to have an intense crying fit, but even when the liquid in your eyes pours down the side of your eyes, you keep yourself almost in one piece. You look deeply into his eye as your shoulders shake. "Y-yes." You exhale, fragile. “Yes, yes, yes,” your voice sings repeatedly, with quick, confused nods, tears streaming from your eyes.

He can't hold back the husky sound that leaves his lips, his cock pulsing in reaction to your obvious fragility exposed to him.

"Yeah?" He asks breathlessly and it's very slow - as he thrusts inside you, thrusting his hips back and forth once, twice, three times until your pussy swallows as much of his cock as it can, until the tip of his hip bones rub it against your thighs. And it's so intense, so obscene – the position he puts you in, the full weight of his body pinning you to the bed, broad shoulders hiding you from view, silver hair like a curtain around the two of you, your mouth falling open in a silent scream and his releasing small curses between clenched teeth... debauchery.

You give his shoulders a few desperate slaps as he fills you, your tight ring of muscle stretched to accommodate his girth, and no matter how long it takes him to prepare you, no matter how wet you are, he knows there's always that initial pain that rips through your groin as he pushes into you. It makes you sway beneath him, little tearful sobs that are like the sweetest song to him.

Another curse muttered in deep Valyrian was his only warning as his palms sink into the softness of the bed. Your own hands looking desperate too, one tangled in the silver base of his hair at the back of his neck and the other gripping the material of his leather shirt, a strangled moan catching in your throat as he begins to fuck you slowly. You can only hold on as he pulls and pushes his body above you with each deep thrust, his impatience shown only in the forceful and violent way in which his hands grip the bed sheets.

He leans into you a little more, moving his hips in different ways, testing the angles until he makes more of those tears well up in your eyes as your pleasure increases almost painfully. Your moans quickly turn into babbling when a particularly strong movement of his hips makes you shake all over. The way your tight pussy tries to contain him and suck him in at the same time drives him crazy, feral.

He won't last long. He already knew this before it even started, but now, feeling your walls squeezing the life out of him after so long deprived of it, with your cute little noises getting louder and louder, with your expression drunk with lust and sadness, the buzz of battle still vibrating through his veins... Aemond feels release approaching shamefully fast for him.

He'll make it up to you later, Aemond promises himself. When the hot need subsides at least a little in his system, he'll take off his dirty war clothes, maybe ask you to take a shower with him. He'll soap your body and tease you until you're riding his cock in the tub at your own pace, his fingers rolling your little clit with each bounce of your hips. He will lay you on the bed and love every inch of your soft body, worship your skin with kisses and hickeys. He will part your thighs and bury his fingers and tongue in your wet softness. He will rip orgasm after orgasm out of you until you are hoarse from screaming, until your body is physically unable to continue.

He will do it all.

He has done it in the past, many times.

Now, however, all he needs is to find his release, to unload those months of forced distance inside his trembling body. But Aemond will be damned if he doesn't bring you along with him.

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, pushing your legs against your body further, lips parting with hoarse, breathless moans that escaped him with each thrust and the sweet pleas you murmured incoherently. The movement of his hips quickens, one hand leaving its blunt grip on the sheets to squeeze between your thighs, poking your clit in tight circles, his cock hitting a spot inside your walls that makes you shiver and tremble in anticipation.

“Aemond…” you cry, digging your nails into the back of his neck, pulling his body towards yours, as if you weren’t already physically as close as possible.

He growls at your plea.

“My little, innocent wife,” Aemond giggles wildly as your pussy clamps down on his length again, your climax approaching, his thumb rotating a steady rhythm on your clit. If only your mind was clear enough to form a coherent thought, maybe you'd complain that the rhythm of his cock in your pussy would be painful, that the continuous and harsh scratching of his clothes hurts the soft and delicate flesh of your body, but you don't say anything, not now. You just accept what he gives you. And he knows you missed him as much as he missed you. “Always so good to me baby.”

Aemond watches you intently, unable to look away from the pleasure that shows on your face. You're shaking, lost in your wet breaths and high-pitched, broken cries, your legs trapped between his body, welcoming him. You're tight and small, his sweet wife, and Aemond can feel your cracks stretching, a spider's web of fractured thought and temptation too much for anyone to bear, and as much as he knows it's impossible, he wants this moment to last forever. Aemond is undone. A fool in love. And it's sad. And it's beautiful. It's being at home.

"Mine." His murmur echoes next to your lips, both of you breathing each other's breath, his rhythm starting to falter, the searing heat rushing through his body beneath those layers of heavy clothing makes him dizzy, but he doesn't stop, he doesn't stop. “So pure, so beautiful, so delicate…” he caresses your clit without faltering with a rumbling purr as his cock swells inside you. “Ngh...oh fuck, so tight. You're going to get everything, aren't you, darling? All of me.” His own teeth graze your neck as you arch and scream in pleasure. “Be a good girl and don't let anything leak, hmmm…”

He fucks you roughly, your name dancing on his lips like a prayer in the dark. Aemond savors this moment with the veneration it deserves, the final chase. The two of you so broken, so vulnerable, shaking with pleasure for each other. He rubs your pussy, hips slamming into you at lightning speed.

And finally, gods yes, it finally happens.

"Aemond! A-Aemond, please! Please-" You throw your head back, your lewd pleas turning into a broken scream as you explode around him. Your face is flushed and glistening with a subtle sheen of sweat, tears streaming down. It's all he can take. You convulse and break and the sensation of his cock swelling with the resulting explosions of hot cum filling you follows shortly after. As your body and pussy tremble and clench, he finally releases his own pleasure, biting down hard on your shoulder to muffle his husky moans, spilling himself deep inside you, the continuous spasms of your orgasm milking every drop from him. You and he cum together, and even in the hazy haze of climax, he thinks he's never experienced something so sublime, so perfect.

You're both shaking as you come down from the waves of mutual pleasure, and Aemond is especially careful now, gently unfolding your legs from that tight position to allow you to stretch them, which earns him a long, grateful, relieved moan. He slowly pulls away until he's kneeling between your thighs, watching raptly as you bite your lip as his cock leaves your heat. A tight grip circles around your parted thighs, lifting them up a little to expose your dripping pussy. He looks almost in awe as he watches his seed flow steadily from your abused pussy.

But Aemond is selfish and his cum doesn't belong on the crumpled, sweaty sheets. No, he told you to keep it safe inside you and that's what would happen. His fingers slip into the wet mess of cum in your folds, pushing as gently as he can all the thick liquid inside you again.

You're too tired to react, but you still sob softly at the sensation, subtly squirming on the bed, legs shaking from being held in the same position for so long. He looks at you, icy lilac gaze half-lidded with lust, blue stone glowing in the flames of the fire. He looks at the soft, creamy flesh of your sweaty body. He longs to see dark spots and bite marks, a way of proving that you belong to him. He lifts his head, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, just above your left breast. His teeth leave crescent moons on your skin and you scream loudly at the stinging sensation, but you don't stop him. He walks away, admiring the constellations he had traced on your skin. Painting you for him, marking you as something unique to him.

You sniffle and blink wet eyelashes at him. He kisses his bite, murmuring gentle words to you, his lips trailing up with soft sucks and wet kisses in your throat until he brushes against your lips. And it's then, and only then, that he realizes he hasn't kissed you yet. He doesn't know why he didn't do it, given that it's probably the thing he misses most about you. Feeling the softness of your lips on his, the gradual way a small, innocent kiss quickly evolves into something more urgent, the way you immediately struggle to keep up with his pace, his hunger as he swallows your cute sighs and your ragged breaths as he suck your tongue.

Yes. This is what Aemond longs for. How easily he could make you fall apart in his hands.

Taking into account the way that you blush and look down at his lips, you're thinking the same thing. He smiles mischievously, slowly leaning in for a deep kiss, fingers damp with your juices and his cum resting on your jawline. Your little hands sink into his hair until you lightly scrapes your nails across his scalp, making Aemond shudder. The fingers of his other hand cup your hip, tracing the line of the bone in gentle patterns. His nose bumps yours as his tongue dances in your hot mouth, spreading in you the taste of smoke and revenge that seems to follow him at absolutely every moment now. And like his perfect antithesis, you gasp, let him savor your sweet, fruity flavor - so fuckin sweet.

Your legs circle his waist, making him press against your heat, quickly reigniting the flame of need within him. You lick it off his tongue, moan when he sucks your bottom lip and bites it, you beg between quick breaths and Aemond continues to rub himself against you, the kiss becoming sloppier, driving him crazy with how irresistible you are in this state. You give yourself completely to Aemond, without asking questions or making new complaints, and it drives him crazy.

"You are mine. Only mine. And you will never leave me again, do you understand?" He murmurs as he pulls away, both of you panting, looking seriously into your water-bright eyes, noting how they're a little wide and your mouth is swollen and wet from his kisses.

A few tears slide down your face, but you smile shakily at him, the hand in his hair stroking the silver strands lovingly.

"I am yours, Aem. Now and forever." Honesty bleeds into your shallow voice, your little fingers on your other hand tentatively tangling with the buckles of his shirt to open it.

Aemond rests his forehead against yours and truly smiles for the first time in a long, long time. Not a malicious, mocking or condescending smile... No, this time his lips are stretched into a small, but genuine, honest smile.

And it's because of you.

Because he knows he got what he wanted so much. He has you again. He was resilient, he was patient and he was fair. He fought and, with his efforts, created a space just for himself within your heart. He knows you're still unhappy with everything that's going on, and no matter how much he wants to, he can't change that. He can only strengthen you to bear it. It can only burrow deeper into your body and your heart until you are able to forget the atrocities that are happening around you - the horrible things that he is doing. It's a gaping hole in your chest that leaves you continually bleeding, he knows, but the exposed cut is so sweet, and here he is, licking the wound like an animal, with all the violent, relentless gentleness he has to offer as the vengeful prince that he is.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing his cock back into your abused pussy in a deep movement that draws a broken sound from both of you, pulling you against his chest. He rubs his sweaty face against your throat, your face, your hair. His voice syrupy and thick as he whispers, "I love you."

Fuck. Aemond would never let you go.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd aemond #prince aemond #aemond x fem!reader #dance of the dragons #aemond smut

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letterlitter · 6 months

Text

Pacify Her

Lando Norris x reader

•Tags: smut, toxic Lando, hate-fuck, makeup sex

•Loosely based on a song by Melanie Martinez with the same title.

•Wordcount: 1.6k

It was unbearable how Lando squeezed this new girl's thigh and whispered in her ear. You knew it was to make you jealous, he was a tease even more when you two were in a relationship. You had really bad arguments that let to the decision of splitting, but since you didn't want to break up the friend group, you agreed to just say the relationship ended on good terms and decided to be friends which was a total lie and both of you knew it.

Now, only a couple months after everything, Lando had shown up with a new "girlfriend" which drove you absolutely mad how uncouth he could be. Bringing this girl in your group out of the blue fully knowing that neither you nor himself had moved on from that deep, long term thing you had.

She looked at you like she wanted to be your friend and get your validation so bad. You didn't know if Lando had told her you were his ex. He didn't even dare mention it when he was introducing her. You automatically hated her, although her big brown eyes seemed lovely and innocent. She didn't have a clue what she had gotten herself into. You pitied her cluelessness.

You noticed Lando's griny glances at you, he kept making sure you were looking before each kiss he left on her cheek. The bastard had all his moves coordinated and planned but you had been with him for too long not to see right through his facade.

You were at your limit, who was he to inflict this hurt on you after all that he had done?

Rage made your body dense as you walked towards Lando's house the night after, when you made sure nobody else was with him. His Friday nights had always been free on purpose to sleep until noon, game, and sleep again. You remember trying to wake him up for lunch and he was dead asleep because he had stayed awake to play with friends.

You rang and he buzzed the door open without asking. Walking towards the stairs you noticed the rose garden you had planted in a corner. The thought of Lando's face after a thorn had poked him in the arm and how he treated the flowers as his enemies forced your lips into a fainted smile. You hated that his memories made you happy. You hated it was him you had those memories with.

You pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on why you were here. Lando opened the door, a confused look on his face, "y/n? What is it why are you here?"

"We need to talk." And you stormed in.

"Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The sarcasm in his voice was familiar, and now that you weren't in love with him, infuriating.

"Want to talk about what?"

"About how you're being such an asshole."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't act like this Lando I know you did those things on purpose."

"Damn I don't know what you're talking about." He kept his sarcastic tone. You hated it.

You pushed his chest back in anger, "stop playing with me. You know damn well this girl you keep bringing is just a doll to mess with my head."

Lando smiled as if he had been expecting these words from you.

"This is way too low, even for you Lando."

"Everyone thinks we're friends, why can't friends introduce their new girlfriends to their other friends?"

"I'm not everyone. I know this is a lie stop trying to make it sound casual."

"What do you expect me to do? Stay single until you're over me?"

"Yes!" The loud sound that exited your mouth surprised you as it did Lando. You never planned to sound weak or needy. You just wanted to get closure, "look. I'm not trying to control your life or whatever, but what you're doing to make me jealous is messy and fucking pathetic. Fix it. Goodbye." And you started walking towards the door.

"Well did it work?" Lando's voice stopped you. He sounded sort of genuine for the first time in months.

You kept silent and still, wondering what to answer. Turning around to face him you said, "well do you love her?"

"Of course I do. She's very real."

You took one step closer, "stop lying."

Lando took a step closer to you, "stop being jealous."

You took one more step, "she looks way too innocent for you. I pity her."

Lando took another step , "I can teach her."

-"Funny."

-"I know."

-"You're insufferable."

-"I know."

Silence.

Now you were only one step away from eachother. Only one breath. You were mad at him and the tension felt heavy in the air as the sun was halfway set. His eyes looked crazy blue in the last golden rays of sunshine coming in fron his big windows. His face stingy and lips so soft it made you even more angry at him.

Your self control was getting shaky and you felt it shatter when Lando swinged his arms up to hold your face to kiss you deeply on the lips.

You squeezed your hand on his arm in protest to rip him off of you before it was too late but he was desperate.

He kept kissing you harder and harder like you gave him air to breathe.

You hated this. You hated the way his body pulled you in and you hated how it felt so good. He knew his way with you. Every single button, all the nooks and crannies.

You finally eased into the kiss, letting go of Lando's hoodie that was balled up in your fist and started to kiss him back.

His hands unzipped your sweatshirt and pulled it off your arms as soon as he felt that you wanted this as well. You let him. He slipped his hand under your tshirt, pinching your belly, messaging your back.

You let out a heavy exhale.

"I missed you." He whispered into your mouth, putting his lips on yours before you could say anything back.

Lando's hands moved down to your jeans but you held onto his hand to prevent him from going on. He stopped kissing you.

It was all too much for you and you hated him for being so good at this. You stared dead into his eyes, knowing full well that you were helpless, and said, "you fucking bastard."

He giggled when you pressed your debating lips on his again.

You let him kiss your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your belly. You let him get down on his knees for you, between your legs.

His wet tongue on you made you jump in a surprising pleasure. The tip of his tongue moving in circular motions, in search of the place that made you moan the loudest. You tried fighting the sensation but failed miserably when he raised his finger to your entrance, messaging and warning about what's to come.

The moan that left your lips after he pushed his finger inside you was involuntary. You could feel Lando smiling on your pussy with the sound. He kept moving his tongue with your hand in his curls; pumping his finger and pulling moans out of you until you felt like you could take it no more. That's when Lando pulled his now soaked finger out and stood up, Leaving you clenching around nothing.

He faced you again to continue his kisses; you could taste yourself on his lips as he took off your tshirt and your bra, leaving you completely naked in the middle of the house. He looked at you once more before taking off his own hoodie you've been pulling on to get rid of since the start, he turned you around and got closer. His bulge rubbing against your butt from under his sweatpants.

"You're so pretty." He whispered into your ear, "wait here okay?"

You turned around to see him almost run to his bedroom to get condoms and you got a chance to take a look at his smooth, tan skin as he walked back.

Lando kissed you shoulder and your back as he slowly bent you over the handle of the couch. Messaging your body as he bent on you to let you feel his skin, his pants were off, your could feel his hard dick against the back of your leg. He adjusted himself on you and pushed in. You weren't hesitant to moan anymore. His length inside you was a familiar sensation of pleasure after this long. He was all you needed.

Lando started pumping deeper into you, making you feel fully stretched. You could hear his little groans and exhales when he grabbed your neck to make you arch your back more, pulling your head towards his mouth. "I bet nobody fucked you like this since I was gone." And he started moving faster. You pushed back your body into his, blurring the lines infront of your eyes.

You came within seconds after that.

He pulled out of you. You turned around quickly, grabbed his shoulders and lead him to the couch to sit down.

"Could you ever teach her this?"

And you climbed on top of him, each leg on each side. Leading his still erect dick to your hole and pushing down on him. Lando threw his head back with a moan. You took his hands and put them on your ass. He squeezed his hands with every movement you made.

You started kissing under his ear, where you knew he was sensitive. Moans started turning into whimpers and he started pushing up his legs towards you. You both moved faster as you reached your high. You nails dug into Lando's shoulder and his hands tight around your back when you both came and you collapsed into his arms.

****

"What a stupid decision." You said through your panting and you both giggled since you knew you were going to make more.

(This is the first time I'm posting a smut one shot online sorry if it's short or lacking♡)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris smut #f1 smut

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astonmartinii · 9 months

Text

brother's best friend | lance stroll social media au

pairing: lance stroll x fem schumacher!reader

there's something about the guy your brother tells you is off limits...

MASTERLIST | MY TIP JAR

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 1,099,458 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: happy birthday to the biggest pain in my ass

view all comments

user1: y/n is so mother that her birthday really should be a national holiday

yourusername: what ass? babe you built like an ironing board

mickschumacher: you're talking real loud for someone who has a smaller ass than me 🤨

yourusername: you wanna get the tape measure out ???

user2: I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

liked by lancestroll

yourusername: HAH

mickschumacher: i'll give you this one FOR ONCE only because it's your birthday

yourusername: you're SO generous

user3: both mick and y/n really got the unhinged gene from michael

user4: now we know why toto separates them in the paddock LOL

lancestroll: mick you were such a cute kid, what happened?

mickschumacher: EY stay out of it this is schumacher business

mickschumacher: or at least call y/n ugly too ugh 😩

lancestroll: my dad taught me that it's wrong to tell lies sorry

mickschumacher: BACK UP ??? what's that supposed to mean?

yourusername: is no one allowed to compliment me anymore?

mickschumacher: NO. especially not a man. especially not an f1 driver. they're all whores.

estebanocon: ????

maxverstappen1: ????

lancestroll: ????

yourusername: is that why you got dropped? too bitchless?

mickschumacher: HOW DARE YOU? I PULL. I DO.

yourusername: sure you do

mickschumacher: that's it. if you're going to use my loneliness against me, then i invoke the kat stratford rule. you can't date until i do

yourusername: that is so horrifically tragic. who says i'm not already seeing someone?

this comment has been deleted

mickschumacher: I SAW THAT

user5: everybody pray for y/n

user6: for real i think mick lost all of his patience at haas 😭

yourusername

liked by lancestroll, mickschumacher and 983,409 others

yourusername: all my birthday wishes came true

view all comments

user7: cue the mick meltdown

mickschumacher: WHAT 😭 THE 😭 FUCK 😭

yourusername: yes?

mickschumacher: does ten things i hate about you mean nothing to you?

yourusername: no ! but i like [redacted] more

mickschumacher: you can use [redacted] all you want but i will literally break in to your house I'M GETTING IN THE CAR

yourusername: soz girlypop but i'm at [redacted]'s house xoxo

mickschumacher: don't think i won't call sebastian i know he has you on find my friends

yourusername: go for it buddy i am completely confident in mine and seb's relationship

mickschumacher: @sebastianvettel pick up your phone

sebastianvettel: leave me be mick, i have met [redacted] and i think he's a great match 👍

mickschumacher: WHAT

user8: well that was dramatic

user9: get that man back in the car before he genuinely runs across europe looking for y/n

user10: i love how they're all going along with the [redacted] nonsense

user11: i know seb was having way too much fun with it

estebanocon: happy birthday y/n, i hope [redacted] treated you well !

yourusername: why thank you esteban, i have had a great time

mickschumacher: do not tell me you know as well :(

estebanocon: i don't but saying [redacted] is super fun 🤩

lancestroll: [redacted] does make them sound like a criminal

mickschumacher: when i found out who it is, they may become part of a criminal trial

lancestroll: okay buddy...

yourusername: thank you lance, at least someone here is talking sense

mickschumacher: don't use my friends against me 🤨

yourusername: maybe he's my friend too dumbass

user12: or more 😏

mickschumacher: do not even speak that into existence

user13: i need it to be lance or at least another driver just for mick's reaction at this point

lancestroll

liked by estebanocon, yourusername and 1,077,487 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: just appreciating the birthday girl

view all comments

user17: WAIT !! let me grab my popcorn 🍿

user18: i am sat for this mick meltdown

user19: it might be an all-timer

yourusername: before mick inevitably throws all his toys out of the pram... i love you sir lancelot !! thank you for the amazing birthday and for being the best boyf eva xxx

lancestroll: i love you too darling, glad we could spend all this time together before the season starts again

yourusername: booooo i don't wanna share you :(

lancestroll: you could just join me ...

yourusername: do NOT threaten me with a good time

user20: i think i can hear mick having a tantrum from all the way across the world

mickschumacher: ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO. NOPE. NADA. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING. DELETE.

lancestroll: you done?

mickschumacher: NO I AM NOT. TAKE YOUR MOUTH OFF OF MY SISTER. THE ONLY SCHUMACHER YOU WILL BE KISSED BY IS MY FIST

lancestroll: bit too late for that

mickschumacher: HALT. i do not need to know that :(

yourusername: have you got it out of your system? because i really love lance and i'm sorry we kept it from you, but we thought it was best while we figured it all out

mickschumacher: i am happy for you. all i want to see is you happy, and if that is lance so be it. just no pda in front of me

lancestroll: you're saying this like i'm a monster? i'm literally your friend, surely that's a good sign?

mickschumacher: wait. i thought we were best friends :(

lancestroll: yes! we're bffs ! best friends forever + este

estebanocon: yes we love you mick even when you scream all the time and call us whores?

yourusername: gosh you're such a drama queen, have this heart to heart in the group chat this is a birthday post for ME

user21: well this got suprisingly heartfelt

sebastianvettel: happy birthday y/n, i'm happy for both of you!

yourusername: thank you seb ! x

lancestroll: thank you seb, wingman of the year

mickschumacher: WHAT

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, lancestroll and 923,766 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: my boyf just won point with broken wrists, what the fuck are y'all doin?

view all comments

user24: this was so sexy of lance honestly

maxverstappen1: winning the race bozo

yourusername: the question was clearly rhetorical genius

maxverstappen1: i don't care 🤷‍♀️

user25: i always forget that these two technically grew up together

lancestroll: the doctors said i still need to be looked after, will you be my sexy nurse?

mickschumacher: EW this is exactly what i was talking about. keep this shit to yourselves

mickschumacher: PLUS, i don't think that would be wise with broken wrists

lancestroll: gotta ruin all of our jokes now?

yourusername: so me being a sexy nurse is a joke :( ?

lancestroll: no! you can definitely look after me and you're definitely sexy

yourusername: good good. sit back and relax baby

user26: what if we also want to be seen by sexy nurse y/n?

mickschumacher: choke

lancestroll: choke

fernandoalo_oficial: so no mention of my podium 🤨

yourusername: bore off old man you've got completely functioning wrists

fernandoalo_oficial: still impressive no?

yourusername: cry me a river

lancestroll: it was very impressive fernando

fernandoalo_oficial: at least one of my kids respect me

yourusername: god i think being a drama queen is a requirement for being an f1 driver

user27: she's not wrong

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by lancestroll, yourusername and 1,452,887 others

fernandoalo_oficial: accidentally acquired two kids this season

view all comments

user28: grid dad fernando is back baby

user29: who is the mum and can i be her?

yourusername: soz mark beat you to it

oscarpiastri: does that make us all siblings?

mickschumacher: absolutely not. the schumacher gang is very exclusive

fernandoalo_oficial: who said i claimed you?

mickschumacher: as if you wouldn't want to claim me

yourusername: soz mick, looks like only one of us slays

lancestroll: fernando has taste 💅

mickschumacher: i hate you both

yourusername: love you too x

user30: golly gosh these girlies are so dramatic

user31: lance, y/n and oscar is the chill trio we need

yourusername: also thanks pa for the cute pic x

lancestroll: and for not complaining the whole time

yourusername: SOME people could learn a thing or two ....

mickschumacher: hey! i am a good photographer you're just ugly

lancestroll: you take that back

mickschumacher: you were my friend first you should be on my side :(

yourusername: you snooze you lose mickster

lancestroll: :p

user32: so glad that this relationship is bringing out lance's sassy side

user33: now all we need is the return of the racing point hair

yourusername: i'm on it 🫡

yourusername

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 1,099,432 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: the romance books didn't lie, there really is nothng like your brother's best friend

view all comments

user34: boyf!lance got me going feral

user35: third pic is defo going platinum on pinterest

lancestroll: all the turmoil was worth it :)

yourusername: turmoil being mick pouting at you for like three hours

lancestroll: i am a sensitive man! i don't like people being upset with me :(

yourusername: mick is just a drama queen, probably his way of hazing you, or distracting himself from being lonely

mickschumacher: for that lonely comment you just got yourself stuck with a third wheel

mickschumacher: FOR LIFE

estebanocon: and me !! don't forget about meeee

user36: my fave unproblematic foursome

yourusername: hold your horses babe two of that four are siblings maybe we should reword this

sebastianvettel: is mick finished now? can i safely go back on my phone without getting ten billion calls about you and lance?

yourusername: yeah i think he's got it out of his system

sebastianvettel: good. but you and lance are still on babysitting duty for putting my through this

lancestroll: not the punishment you think it is we love those kids

yourusername: plus lance is cute with kids and gives me major baby fever

sebastianvettel: oh no...

mickschumacher: WHAT ABSOLUTELY NOT NO BABIES YET I ONLY JUST ACCEPTED YOU DATIGN I DON;Y WANT TO THINK ABOUT... THAT

yourusername: but baby lancelots would be so cute :(

lancestroll: baby y/ns would be cuter

yourusername: that's it. seb sorry we will be a little late

mickschumacher: DELETE

fin.

note: this request has been in the bank for a while and i know i took a lil creative liberty but i hope you enjoyed!! also thought lance deserved some love after the recent tomfoolery ... alas! happy new year and i hope everyone has a great new years eve xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll social media au #lance stroll instagram au

2K notes · View notes

cleo-fox · 4 months

Text

Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was.

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why.

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist.

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.”

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.�� He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet.

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.”

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him.

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly.

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it.

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway.

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching.

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer.

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana.

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other.

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.”

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him.

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #conquer

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months

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Friendcation (m) | myg | wedding special

Yoongi has done everything in his power to make your wedding truly special, what he couldn’t plan for was the rain. But fret not, a bit of rain will not make your day less special when it’s surrounded by friends and family. And your wedding night? Well, being pushed down into the sheets by Yoongi is easily one of your favorite things.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: the whole gang + family 🥰 → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, wedding!au, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 12.2k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Yoongi is so sweet 😭 You’ll see what I mean when you read, but he’s also a horny man that just wants to make the wedding day and night the best for his love 😭 Also, there’s still the usual sexual jokes and banter than friendcation is known for— there’s a few inside jokes, but you really don’t have to have read the whole series to understand them! → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, sexy lingerie, oral (male receiving), deep throating, multiple orgasms, sexual banter, pregnancy kink, spanking, pussy rubbing, nipple play and sucking, clit play, creampie, cockwarming, slow and hard sex, first a bit rough and dirty but then it turns slow and more passionate 🥹 → Author’s note: Remember when I did the winter special and I said that I would probably write more? Well, here I am with a new edition to Friendcation! This special is actually set before the ‘winter special’ 🤭 I do have two more specials planned for this lovely couple 🥳 I know that this is a special to a completed and established series, but I still do think that it kinda works as a one-shot still. So if you find this, not having read Friendcation before, I think you’d still be able to enjoy this, and if you end up liking it, you can always start reading the series (it’s filled with a lot of crack and sexual tension 🤭). And please don’t let the very sweet and romantic beginning fool you—this is very much still friendcation and the story will get filthy towards the end 👿 The taglist is technically closed, and I just went with the old original one— but if you want to be added to the taglist for the two other specials I’m gonna do, just let me know. And If you for some reason don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know that too! → Author’s note, pt2: So… remember how I said I would post this on the 20th? SURPRISE! I’m in my feels because of the ot7 photo— so here’s an early gift for you all 💜 Also, I did not really proofread this, simple because I’m too much of a happy mess to do so, so I’m sorry for any mistakes and whatnot. → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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This moment, bathed in magic, will weave itself into the very fabric of your memory, an indelible mark that time dare not erase until your very essence transcends this forsaken world.

But until that fateful day arrives, every precious moment enveloped in your boyfriend’s presence is a treasure to be savored—a sweet prelude to the boundless joy awaiting you when he finally becomes your husband!

At times, the surreal reality of marrying Yoongi, your once-friend-turned-best-friend-turned-soulmate, eludes comprehension, prompting you to pinch yourself just to affirm that this enchanting journey from friendship to love is indeed your reality.

A simple getaway—a friendcation with your best friends, and the simmering tension between you and Yoongi exploded like a tightly wound spring finally released, echoing the burst of a bubblegum bubble reaching its limit before bursting in a cascade of flavor and delight.

That’s precisely why you now find yourself immersed in the tranquil embrace of Seoul’s outskirts, enveloped by a forest alive with verdant splendor—a tapestry of towering trees crowned with emerald foliage, interwoven with lush grasses and bushes displaying an array of vibrant green hues, painting a picture of nature’s untouched magnificence.

Under Yoongi’s careful hands, string lights dance like fireflies, weaving around the sturdy trunks and graceful branches of the trees, forming a celestial canopy above. Amidst this enchanting glow, he has created a makeshift altar, a sanctuary for your love to bloom amidst the verdant embrace of nature.

Every detail meticulously arranged by Yoongi leaves you in awe, a tender reminder of his deep devotion—a gesture that fills you with a bittersweet mix of wonder and gratitude, as you realize anew the depth of his commitment to making your wedding day a cherished memory.

As the string lights cast their gentle glow, the forest transforms into a captivating fairytale image, each illuminated leaf and dancing shadow conspiring to steal your breath away. In this magical moment, Yoongi’s tender side shines through, igniting a newfound appreciation that fills your heart with a fluttering joy you never knew existed.

“Do you like it?” Yoongi’s voice, soft as a whisper, accompanies the gentle caress of his calloused fingers tracing circles on your skin. In that tender moment, as his touch soothes the frantic beat of your heart, you’re overcome by a puzzling mixture of nerves and anticipation—after all, it’s Yoongi, you don’t understand why you’d be nervous.

As he gestures towards the enchanting scene he’s meticulously crafted—the trees adorned with twinkling fairy lights, the stools arranged before the makeshift altar, even Holly parked to the side, adorned with ribbons and lights—Yoongi’s efforts overwhelm you with a wave of affection for the man who’s not just your partner but your future husband. Each thoughtful detail he’s woven into this momentous occasion stirs your heart, amplifying the love that binds you together.

With a tender smile gracing your lips, you lean in closer to Yoongi, your eyes reflecting the warmth of the fairy lights surrounding you. “I love it,” you muse softly, your voice a gentle melody in the tranquil forest. As you draw him nearer, your touch carrying the weight of affection, you add, “But I never knew this side of you—so soft, so tender. It’s like seeing you in a whole new light.”

He chuckles, that deep, resonant sound that melts your insides and sends your heart soaring, like a bird set free in the vast, open sky.

“You know I want our wedding to be perfect, or at least as close as we can get. Perfection might be an illusion, something that doesn’t truly exist, but damn, you’re the closest thing to it, babe. Anything for you.”

Your cheeks flush with warmth as you divert your gaze to the damp grass beneath your feet. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice tinged with emotion. “I love it.”

Yoongi’s gaze sweeps over you, his eyes lingering with admiration. He gently runs a warm hand over your flushed cheeks. “I love your dress,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “Everything about you is stunning. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You’re adorned in a simple yet elegant dress, the delicate lace you adore gracefully hugging your figure. To complete the look, a flower crown, woven from nature’s most exquisite leaves and blossoms, rests upon your head, making you feel like a woodland fairy in a fairytale.

You chuckle, warmth blossoming in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft and filled with affection. “You look incredibly handsome in your suit. I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Speaking of marriage— you did tell our parents what time the wedding is, right?” you ask, your voice tinged with nervousness. You glance up at the sky, the sun hanging low, a golden reminder that the ceremony is imminent. Anxiety bubbles within you as you realize none of your friends or family have arrived yet.

“Did you give them the right location? What if they can’t find us out here in the forest?” you ask, your voice rising with mounting anxiety. The nervousness gets the best of you, your heart pounding with worry as the reality of the secluded setting sinks in.

“Relax, babe. They’ll be here soon. The officiator will arrive, and everything will be fine,” he reassures you, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. As always, his calm presence grounds you, steadying your racing heart with just a single touch, or even the reassuring depth of his gaze.

Instantly, his words soothe you, the nervousness ebbing away with each syllable. You smile back at him, then glance down at your gown. It’s a simple, white dress—though you had wished for a different color, given how many traditions you’re already breaking. This fact has upset both your parents, who have scolded you countless times for not having a traditional wedding. But you and Yoongi are determined to follow your own path, and this forest wedding is exactly what you want—a heartfelt ceremony in the very place where your love story began.

As the distant hum of engines grows louder, you turn to see your parents’ and Yoongi’s parents’ cars winding their way up the uneven forest road. A rush of excitement courses through you as the vehicles come to a stop, and one by one, your beloved family members step out into the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, their faces radiant with anticipation and love.

Your mother rushes over, enveloping you in a tight, loving hug that fills you with warmth and reassurance. Moments later, your father joins in, his embrace just as comforting. Then, Yoongi’s parents step forward, wrapping you in their arms, their affectionate gestures bridging the gap between families. In a seamless exchange, your parents switch, their hugs crossing boundaries and symbolizing the unity and love that binds you all together.

“Is it too late to have a traditional wedding?” Yoongi’s mother asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she bats her lashes, her voice carrying a playful tease that dances on the air like a feather.

“Eomma! We’ve discussed this before. We don’t want a traditional wedding,” Yoongi groans, his frustration palpable as he defends your choices once again. You can practically feel the weight of his exasperation, as if he’s on the verge of pulling out his hair in sheer frustration.

“Yes, yes. I know,” she says softly, her smile tinged with wistfulness as she gently nudges Yoongi’s shoulders. Despite her words, her eyes shimmer with fond memories and unspoken hopes, casting a warm glow that belies her timid demeanor.

“Shouldn’t you just be happy that I’m getting married at all?” Yoongi frowns, a hint of playful defiance in his expression, but his lips curve into a crooked smile that reveals the warmth of his affection, his gums peeking through like hidden treasures.

“Yes, you keep surprising me. Next, you’ll give me grandchildren, yes?” she asks, her voice laced with playful anticipation, her arms enveloping Yoongi in a tender embrace. With a loving smile, she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Eomma, no,” Yoongi groans in mock disgust, though a playful twinkle dances in his eyes at the attention his mother showers upon him. You catch the subtle excitement in his voice, a reflection of the shared dreams you both harbor for the future. And as you exchange knowing glances, anticipation tingles in the air, as you are looking forward to all the nasty and dirty stuff you and Yoongi will be doing under the moonlight tonight.

You might just make a baby, who knows?

As you stand beside Yoongi and his mother, your attention is abruptly drawn away by the distant hum of engines. You turn to see multiple cars pulling up, their tires crunching on the grass as they park beside your parents’ vehicle. With each arrival, the air fills with a sense of excitement and anticipation, signaling the imminent gathering of loved ones to celebrate your special day.

You scan the arriving guests, and your eyes light up with delight as you spot your friends and Yoongi’s heavily pregnant sister. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she radiates a vibrant glow, her anticipation palpable in the gentle curve of her belly. You can't help but feel a surge of excitement and warmth, knowing that she’s on the brink of welcoming new life into the world.

Your gaze sweeps over the arriving cars, and your attention is snagged by one unfamiliar vehicle, its sleek silhouette contrasting with the rustic charm of the forest surroundings. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you realize that this could be the arrival of the officiator, the final piece in the puzzle of your wedding ceremony.

Your friends spill out of their cars, their laughter and excited chatter filling the air as they rush towards you and Yoongi. In a whirlwind of embraces and enthusiastic greetings, they envelop you both in a cascade of warmth and affection, their love palpable in every heartfelt hug and joyful smile.

Jimin strides in solo tonight, a vision of confidence in his sleek suit. Namjoon arrives with his date—the one he couldn’t stop texting since your vacation months ago. She exudes grace and warmth, fitting seamlessly into the group. Seokjin’s arm is wrapped protectively around his girlfriend, her gentle smile glowing despite the weight of her pregnancy. Meanwhile, Jungkook and Taehyung arrive without dates, their playful banter and laughter hinting at the unbreakable bond between them, yet leaving you curious about their romantic adventures, or lack thereof.

Surrounded by the warmth of your friends and family, your heart swells with happiness, as if it might burst from the overwhelming tide of love washing over you. Amidst the joyful chatter and laughter, your gaze falls upon Yoongi, his eyes alight with a radiant smile that seems to stretch from ear to ear, his conversation with his sister and brother-in-law a testament to the deep bonds of family and the anticipation of this special day.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden glow across the forest, the air seems to hum with anticipation, the vibrant hues of the surroundings intensifying under the magical embrace of the golden hour. The fairy string lights, once subtle, now twinkle like stars amidst the verdant canopy, weaving an enchanting tapestry of light and shadow that dances with the gentle breeze, infusing the atmosphere with an ethereal charm.

The officiator locks eyes with Yoongi and gives him a subtle nod, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. Your heart flutters with excitement, mingled with a hint of nervousness, as you realize that the moment you’ve been waiting for is finally here. Giddy anticipation bubbles within you, causing your palms to grow clammy with nervous energy. You fumble with the delicate lace of your dress, trying to dry your sweaty hands, your fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Your friends and family settle into the chairs meticulously arranged by Yoongi, their laughter and chatter filling the air with warmth and anticipation. The chairs are nestled on the lush grass, forming a cozy circle in front of two majestic trees adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft, enchanting glow. As your loved ones take their seats amidst the magical ambiance, you feel a sense of unity and excitement building, like the anticipation before the opening act of a grand performance.

With a sense of solemnity, the officiator leads the way towards the towering trees, their branches adorned with twinkling lights that illuminate the gathering dusk. You and Yoongi follow closely behind, your fingers intertwined in a reassuring grip, each step echoing with the weight of anticipation and the promise of forever.

As the warm summer air envelops you, carrying the hum of insects and the symphony of nature’s song, you can’t help but feel a sense of serenity wash over you. This is your element, being embraced by the gentle caress of nature’s embrace, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the forest. With each breath, you and Yoongi are united in your love for the great outdoors, and in this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of your wedding venue, you feel more connected than ever before.

The officiator begins to address you, your loved ones, and the assembled guests, his words weave a tapestry of emotions and imagery. He speaks of the intricate journey from friendship to love, likening it to the delicate bloom of a red tulip, its vibrant petals unfurling in a display of magnificent colors. His voice resonates with tales of enduring love, reminiscent of the fairytales of old, and despite your initial skepticism, you find yourself drawn into the beauty of his words. While your own love story with Yoongi may not fit the traditional fairytale mold, there’s a raw and genuine beauty in the imperfect, real-life moments you’ve shared together.

As the officiator speaks, your gaze naturally drifts to Yoongi, his hands clasped lightly in yours. You hold him with a tenderness that belies your fears, as if he’s fragile and delicate, but deep down, you know he’s as sturdy as the roots of the trees surrounding you, built to weather any storm. It’s evident in the strength of his embrace, the gentle yet firm touch of his fingers interlocked with yours, offering silent reassurance and unwavering support.

When your eyes meet his, you’re captivated by the intense love shining in his dark chocolate brown eyes, a depth of emotion you’ve never seen before. His smile radiates warmth, softening the lines of his face and illuminating his features with a tender glow. Dressed in a sharp suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, he exudes an effortless elegance that takes your breath away, his presence commanding attention and admiration.

As the officiator begins the ceremony, the world around you fades into a soft, low buzz, like the distant hum of bees in a summer garden. Despite the faint background noise, Yoongi’s voice cuts through clearly as he recites his vows, each word carrying the weight of his love, lifting you higher than the clouds. His words wrap around you like a warm embrace, grounding you in the depth of his devotion. When it’s your turn to speak, you watch the impact of your vows on Yoongi, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his trembling lip betraying the depth of his emotion. In that moment, the love he holds for you shines brighter than any star, illuminating his handsome face with an ethereal glow.

Yoongi says ‘I do’, and a surge of exhilaration floods through you, lifting your spirits as if you could soar high into the clouds. This moment, the culmination of your deepest desires and fondest dreams, fills you with a profound sense of joy and fulfillment. For so long, you harbored secret feelings for him, uncertain if your love would ever be reciprocated. But now, as you stand on the brink of forever, you’re overwhelmed by the realization that he loves you just as fiercely. In his ‘I do’ you find the reassurance that your hearts are perfectly aligned, destined to journey through life together as one.

Yoongi’s touch is tender as he clasps your hands in his, his eyes shimmering with an unspoken vow of love and devotion. With gentle precision, he slides a golden band adorned with small, glistening crystals onto your ring finger, each delicate touch imbued with the weight of a promise that spans eternity. As the cool metal meets your skin, a rush of warmth floods through you, a tangible reminder of the enduring bond you share and the beginning of a new chapter in your love story.

A smile spreads across your face, one of those ‘I’m stupidly in love’ grins that lights up your entire being. You’re acutely aware that your expression must look utterly comical to anyone watching, but in this moment, you couldn’t care less. All that matters is the overwhelming rush of joy and adoration that fills your heart, painting your world in vibrant hues of love and happiness.

As the officiator’s gaze falls upon you, a sense of gravity settles over the scene, and you realize it’s your turn to say I do. Locking eyes with Yoongi, you feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the very air around you becomes charged with anticipation. The once bright skies darken, heavy clouds obscuring the sun, and the forest is cloaked in the earthy scent of moss. Yet, you’re unfazed by the changing nature around you, your focus solely on the man before you. With unwavering determination, you speak the final words, ‘I do,’ and as if in response to your declaration, the heavens open, showering the world with rain—a fitting testament to the intensity of your love and the power of your union.

The rain pours down in torrents, soaking you to the bone, your once-flowing dress now clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Oblivious to the chaos around you, the cacophony of your friends and family’s screams as they scramble for cover, you lock eyes with Yoongi. His long black hair is plastered to his face by the relentless downpour, and yet, there’s an undeniable joy in his laughter that mirrors your own. With a shared glance, you burst into fits of laughter, the absurdity of the situation only strengthening the bond between you. As you slide the ring onto his finger, your laughter mingles with the rhythmic patter of raindrops, a symphony of love and laughter. In that moment, as the officiator pronounces you married and grants you permission to kiss, you share a tender embrace, sealing your vows amidst the exhilarating chaos of the downpour.

And kiss you do. With an urgency born of love and longing, Yoongi leans in, his soft lips meeting yours in a tender yet passionate embrace. Despite the rain drenching you both, you can’t help but chuckle into the kiss, the warmth of his touch melting away any discomfort. As he pulls you closer, his arms enveloping your drenched form, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, binding you together in an intoxicating dance of desire. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, the beat of your hearts echoing in perfect harmony. In the background, amidst the cheers and applause of your friends and family.

The kiss feels like a spell woven between you, a moment of pure magic and transcendence. It takes you back to the day when Yoongi proposed, a memory etched in your heart like a cherished melody. You recall the day vividly: Yoongi toiling away in his garage, hands stained with motor oil, yet his eyes ablaze with a passion that mirrored the fire in your own heart. It was one of those late nights, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil, as you shared takeout amidst the hum of machinery. Unbeknownst to you, he beckoned you over to the car he was working on, his intentions shrouded in mystery until the moment he kissed you—deep and fervent, igniting a flame of desire within you that threatened to consume you both. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might rip your clothes off and take you atop the very car he was fixing, the thrill of anticipation quickening your pulse. Instead, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with unspoken love, as he uttered those life-changing words. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was quintessentially Yoongi—unexpected, sincere, and overflowing with the depth of his affection. And in that moment, as you uttered the easiest ‘yes’ of your life, you knew that your love story was destined for greatness, forged in the quiet moments of intimacy and the simple beauty of everyday life.

The rain continues to pour down, drenching you both to the bone, yet Yoongi’s kiss remains unbroken, as if time itself has stretched out to accommodate this perfect moment. Each passing second feels like an eternity, your senses heightened by the coolness of the rain and the warmth of his lips. You can feel a deep, growing desire unfurl within you, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every tender caress.

“Hey hyung! You shouldn’t stick your tongue down her throat like that, it’s gross!” Jungkook’s playful shout pierces through your passionate moment, jolting you back to reality. You reluctantly open your eyes, laughter bubbling up despite the interruption, only to lock eyes with your mother. Her expression speaks volumes, a single displeased look delivering a silent scolding that makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment. The contrast between the fiery intimacy of Yoongi’s kiss and the sudden, humorous reality check from your friends and family fills you with a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a deep, abiding love for the man holding you close.

Yoongi pulls away gently, his hands steadying you as he straightens you up. A chuckle escapes your lips, quickly blossoming into full laughter as you realize the intensity of your kiss might have been a bit too much for your audience. The amused glances and knowing smiles from your friends and family only add to the humor of the moment, making you feel both exhilarated and slightly sheepish. The love and joy of the occasion, however, remain undiminished, as you and Yoongi share a private smile, basking in the sheer delight of your unrestrained affection.

Despite the rain, your friends and family rush towards you, their faces alight with joy and excitement as they shower you and Yoongi with heartfelt congratulations. Your parents, though expressing their initial desire for a traditional wedding, admit with warm smiles that this ceremony was uniquely beautiful and special. The mingling continues for a while, laughter and chatter filling the air, but soon, the persistent downpour compels both your parents and Yoongi’s to consider heading home.

You embrace your parents tightly, feeling the warmth of their love despite the rain. They are the first to depart, leaving behind words of encouragement and happiness. Next, you bid farewell to Yoongi’s parents. His mother, ever the tease, turns back with a mischievous smirk. “Have a lovely night. I expect grandchildren!” she calls out, her voice carrying a playful lilt. You laugh, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement, as her cheeky remark adds a final touch of joy to this unforgettable day.

And with that, they depart, their figures slowly disappearing into the misty depths of the forest. You and Yoongi are left behind, choking on your laughter, the echoes of their playful words lingering in the air. The sound of your mirth blends with the soft patter of rain and the rustling leaves, creating a symphony of joy that perfectly encapsulates the magical moment. As you watch them fade from view, a sense of serene happiness washes over you, knowing this enchanting night is just the beginning of your beautiful journey together.

Yoongi’s sister and her husband approach next, their smiles warm despite the rain. You exchange heartfelt hugs, feeling the comforting swell of family support. “Thank you so much for coming,” you say sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. They nod, their eyes shining with shared happiness, before bidding their farewells and disappearing into the misty evening.

The officiator steps forward, his eyes twinkling with genuine pleasure. “This was an absolute joy for me to officiate,” he says warmly, shaking your hand with a firm, friendly grip. “I rarely get the chance to oversee non traditional weddings, so this was truly special for me as well.” His words carry a heartfelt sincerity that touches you deeply. With a final nod and a parting smile, he bids you farewell, leaving you with a sense of profound gratitude for the unique and beautiful ceremony he helped create.

With only your friends remaining, they close in around you, a joyful swarm of affection and excitement. Their laughter and exuberant chatter fill the air, wrapping you in a warm, comforting cocoon of love and support. You feel their genuine happiness radiating towards you, each hug and congratulatory word a testament to the deep bonds you share. The moment is electric, their energy infectious, making you feel incredibly blessed to have such wonderful friends by your side on this unforgettable day.

“Did you bring your camera?” Yoongi asks Taehyung, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation. Taehyung nods enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Of course! It’s in my car,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“But do you really want pictures in this rain?” Taehyung asks, his brows furrowed in uncertainty, his concern evident in his tone. The rain continues to pour, casting a shimmering veil over the forest clearing. Despite his hesitation, there’s a glimmer of determination in Taehyung’s eyes. “My camera is weather-sealed,” he reassures, his voice tinged with resolve. “And I can always enlist Jungkook or Jimin to hold an umbrella over it, just to be safe.”

His willingness to brave the elements for the sake of capturing your special day fills you with gratitude and admiration.

“Yeah, just some shots over by that tree over there,” Yoongi muses, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a tender gesture that sends a shiver of delight down your spine. The gentle touch of his kiss elicits a soft giggle from you, the sound echoing amidst the gentle patter of raindrops. In that fleeting moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the forest, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and contentment enveloping you, binding you ever closer to the man whose presence fills your heart with joy.

“Okay,” Taehyung says with a nonchalant shrug, his excitement palpable despite his casual demeanor. The fact that Yoongi had asked him beforehand fills him with a sense of pride, evident in the way he confidently reaches for his camera. You watch as Taehyung, fueled by anticipation, turns to Jungkook, a mischievous glint in his eye as he enlists his friend’s help. With a shared grin, Jungkook readily agrees, stepping forward to be Taehyung’s trusty assistant for this impromptu photoshoot. Together, they gather the necessary equipment—a camera and an umbrella—and set off towards the designated tree, their laughter mingling with the soft patter of rain.

You don’t want to capture too many photos, just a select few to encapsulate the ethereal beauty of this rain-soaked day. Hand in hand with Yoongi, you approach the towering tree, its branches adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft glow against the backdrop of the darkening sky. Taehyung guides you further away from the tree, his camera poised to capture the perfect shot. With expert precision, he explains the importance of separating you from the background to achieve a stunning bokeh effect in the photos. Following his instructions, you step a few meters away, the string lights creating a halo of warmth and intimacy around you both. As twilight descends, a magical transformation takes place. The gentle hum of nature fills the air, accompanied by the soft patter of raindrops and the distant chirping of crickets. Suddenly, tiny pinpricks of light begin to dance around you, their soft glow illuminating the darkness like miniature stars. You gasp in awe as you realize that the air is alive with fireflies, their luminous presence adding an enchanting touch to the already magical atmosphere. It’s a scene straight out of a fairytale, a fleeting moment of pure, unadulterated magic that you know will be etched in your memory forever.

Taehyung presses his finger on the camera’s shutter, immortalizing the tender moments unfolding before him. First, he captures you and Yoongi standing side by side, your expressions innocent and serene. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, Yoongi leans in and plants a soft kiss on your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The scene shifts as Yoongi gently turns you to face him, the world around you fading into a blur. With a sudden, passionate intensity, he captures your lips with his in a fiery kiss, the heat of it igniting every nerve in your body. Taehyung’s camera clicks rapidly, capturing each electric moment as Yoongi’s embrace tightens, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you, just the shared breath and the undeniable love that burns brighter than the fairy lights around you.

Yoongi’s fingers glide to the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips leave yours, tracing a fiery path down to your throat where he kisses and sucks, leaving a deep purple mark on your skin. A groan of delight escapes your lips, your senses consumed by his touch. The world around you fades into oblivion as Yoongi’s lips travel back up to your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing against your skin. He whispers sweet nothings, painting vivid images of all the things he wants to do with you tonight, each word stoking the fire of lust and making your pulse race with desire.

Jungkook clears his throat, breaking the spell of Yoongi’s intoxicating kiss. As you reluctantly pull away, your gaze lands on Jungkook, whose cheeks are flushed a deep crimson, reminiscent of that day he accidentally walked in on you and Yoongi in the garage. The memory flashes vividly in your mind—the startled look on Jungkook’s face, the awkward shuffle of his feet, and the embarrassed apology that followed.

“I’ll only take photos of you kissing,” Taehyung huffs, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he lowers his camera. “If you want more raunchy photos, you should hire a professional.” He places the camera carefully to the side, while Jungkook, his cheeks still faintly red, lifts the umbrella higher to shield Taehyung and the equipment from the rain.

You and Yoongi both nod, a shared understanding passing between you. It’s so easy to get lost in each other’s embrace, to forget the world spinning around you. You offer a quick apology to Taehyung and Jungkook, but the sincerity is wrapped in the light-heartedness of the moment. Despite the raindrops falling around you, you all burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the patter of rain.

“But you are a professional photographer now, Tae,” you giggle, pulling Yoongi away from the tree. The rain continues to fall softly around you, creating a magical ambiance as you make your way over to the rest of your friends, who are still waiting for you with bright smiles and open arms. Yoongi squeezes your hand, and you feel a rush of warmth and happiness, knowing that this moment, surrounded by loved ones, is exactly how you imagined your special day.

“Yeah, but I don’t do that kind of photography. But I do know a guy who does amazing boudoir shoots,” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your eyes light up at the mention, the wheels in your brain churning with ideas. You turn towards Yoongi, your husband, a playful grin spreading across your face as you imagine the possibilities.

“Would you prefer photos of me in my wedding dress or in my wedding lingerie?” you ask, your voice a soft, teasing whisper. You notice how his pupils dilate, his breath hitching slightly, which brings a lovely, satisfied smirk to your lips. The anticipation in his eyes makes your heart race.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his eyes, quickening his pace to escape the conversation, his discomfort evident as he strides ahead, trying to distance himself from your playful banter.

“Wedding lingerie?” His voice comes out raspy, almost strangled, as if the very thought has taken his breath away.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod, a surge of excitement coursing through you, your heart beating faster with every step closer to your friends. You squeeze his hand in yours, feeling the warmth of his touch anchoring you in the moment, while the smiles of your friends awaiting you ahead fill you with a sense of joy and anticipation.

“Are you wearing it right now?” he asks, his gaze trailing over your body with a hunger that makes your skin tingle. It’s as if he could see through the layers of your wedding dress, his eyes sparking with curiosity and desire.

You chuckle, feeling a playful surge of excitement as you bounce in front of him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. With a coy smile, you purse your lips and quip, “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Your words are laced with anticipation, leaving him intrigued and eager for what’s to come.

Taehyung’s chuckle ripples through the air behind you, rich with amusement, while Jungkook emits a soft sound of discomfort, his unease palpable in the subtle shift of his stance.

“You can give me that photographer's contact info later, right Tae?”

You hear Yoongi’s voice behind you, his tone tinged with curiosity and a hint of excitement. It makes you chuckle softly, surprised yet pleased by his interest in the idea. You hadn’t been sure if he would entertain the thought of such intimate photos of you. But as his words sink in, a warmth spreads through you, and you’re filled with a newfound eagerness. You’ve always been curious about boudoir photography, and the idea of exploring it with him fills you with anticipation.

You finally catch up with the rest of your friends, who immediately turn their attention to you and Yoongi, their faces lighting up with big, joyous smiles. The warmth and love radiating from them wrap around you like a comforting blanket, and you can feel the excitement and happiness in the air as they welcome you with open arms and congratulatory cheers.

“This wedding is a celebration of love in its purest form,” Namjoon begins, his gaze sweeping over the enchanting forest setting. The fairy lights twinkle in the dusk, casting a magical glow over the scene. You can see the admiration in his eyes, knowing he envisions a similar backdrop for his own wedding someday. With his deep love for nature, this setting, with its lush greenery and serene ambiance, is indeed the perfect venue.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he adds, a big smile spreading across his lips as he pulls his girlfriend into his embrace and plants a tender kiss on her forehead. Watching them, you can’t help but think how incredibly adorable they look together, their affection radiating a warmth that adds to the magic of the evening.

“Of course. We’re just so thrilled to have everyone here to celebrate this special day with us. You’re welcome to stay if you want—sleep under the stars like we did on vacation,” you quip, a big smile lighting up your face. Your eyes glisten with the fond memories of those three magical months, filled with laughter and unforgettable adventures with your friends.

Jungkook is the first to look away, clearing his throat but remaining silent. Jimin, however, turns to you with a playful smirk plastered on his face. “We didn’t bring any tents with us, sorry,” he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Seokjin chimes in with a knowing smile, “We need to sleep at home, closer to the hospital, you know, just in case we go into labor. Can’t risk it out here.” His hand gently rests on his partner’s belly, and you can see the mix of excitement and nervousness in his eyes.

His girlfriend shoots him a stern look, “I’m the one going into labor. Me. I’ll be doing all the pushing and stuff while you just sit and observe.” She scoffs slightly, her irritation clear as she places her fisted hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and determination.

“What? Do you think I’ll just sit and watch you give birth? No, no. I’ll hold your hand, your thigh, whatever you need, love,” Seokjin breathes, rushing over to reassure his pregnant girlfriend. The moment his hands rest on her stomach, you see her shoulders relax and a hint of a smile touches her lips. His touch seems to melt away her irritation, and the love between them is palpable, a beautiful testament to their bond.

You smile, savoring the moments when you observe your friends with their partners. It reminds you of how grand and sweet love can be, or how it can bring laughter with its quirks. Your heart swells with affection as you watch Seokjin and his girlfriend banter playfully. Their lighthearted exchange makes you chuckle, resonating deeply and reminding you of the delightful dynamic you share with Yoongi.

“We have some spare tents in Holly that you can use,” Yoongi quickly interjects, pulling you closer with a firm yet gentle grip on your hips. His touch sends a warm shiver through you, grounding you in the moment and making you feel cherished. You lean into his embrace, smiling as you think about how considerate he always is.

Taehyung swiftly stows his camera away in his car, sheltering it from the relentless downpour, before rejoining the group. He inserts himself into the conversation with a playful yet teasing tone. “Look, we just don’t want to hear you have sex again, thank you very much,” he quips, his expression a mix of amusement and mock exasperation.

You shoot a wide-eyed glance at the guys, their cheeks flushing with vivid hues of embarrassment, vividly recalling the escapades from your vacation days. Your own ears burn crimson with the memories flooding back, a mixture of nostalgia and amusement swirling within you.

“Yes, it’s probably for the best, yeah,” your words tumble out in a nervous chuckle, accompanied by a nod of agreement. The memory of past escapades tinges your cheeks with a hint of embarrassment. Deep down, you're relieved by their decision, grateful to avoid any repeat performances in front of your friends. Their words resonate, striking a chord of truth, and you find yourself conceding to their wisdom.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, while your fingers remain intertwined with Yoongi’s.

“It’s your wedding night. You should get to enjoy it unrestricted, you know what I mean?”

His voice is a hushed whisper against your ear, igniting a blush that creeps across your cheeks. Oh, you understand his meaning all too well. After all, he was the one who lent a hand in selecting your wedding lingerie. In that moment, you’re struck by a surge of gratitude for your loyal confidant — your ultimate ride or die. Next to Yoongi, of course; he holds a special place in your heart.

Jimin extricates himself from the embrace, and you catch the familiar glint of disapproval in Yoongi’s gaze. It’s a look he often wears, a silent protest against the closeness he perceives between you and Jimin. But there’s no cause for concern; Yoongi needn’t fear. Your affection for Jimin is pure and platonic, a bond woven with the threads of years of friendship and trust. Yet, you can’t help but wonder if Yoongi sees something you don’t, something lurking beneath the surface of your friendship.

Jimin then sidles over to Yoongi, enveloping him in a snug embrace, his lips moving in a hushed murmur that escapes your ears. Whatever secret message Jimin imparts seems to evoke a predictable response from Yoongi—a roll of the eyes accompanied by Jimin’s infectious laughter, a silent exchange that speaks volumes of their friendship.

“Time to head back,” Jimin announces, gently guiding your friends towards their awaiting cars. “We’ll leave the lovebirds to enjoy their first night as a married couple in peace.” His laughter ripples through the air, a contagious melody that makes you chuckle.

As they make their way to their cars, each of your friends pauses to envelop you in warm hugs and heartfelt congratulations, their genuine affection palpable in the air. With bittersweet smiles, you wave them off, watching their cars disappear into the distance.

You pivot toward Yoongi, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Now that we’ve got the whole forest to ourselves,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice, “what’s your pleasure?”

Yoongi’s smirk widens as he raises a suggestive eyebrow, raindrops still clinging to his skin and clothes. “What do you think I want to do?” he teases, his voice low and inviting.

“Get in the van, babe,” he adds, his tone hinting at a world of thrilling possibilities.

Excitement and arousal surge through your body like an electric charge as you stride towards Holly, your hand eagerly grasping the handle as you step inside, ready for whatever adventures await with Yoongi by your side.

Yoongi follows you eagerly, the click of the door shutting behind him echoing the finality of the moment. With a soft sigh, you sink into the cozy embrace of the makeshift bed, the anticipation of the night ahead palpable in the air.

You lay down on the bed, smirking up at Yoongi as you lick your lips, trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in his mind. You wonder how he wants to take you, what he plans to do tonight. One thing is certain—you know exactly what you want to do to him.

Yoongi hovers over the bed, looking down at you with dark pools of lust in his eyes. Your gaze drops, catching sight of the bulge in his pants, and a soft, seductive chuckle escapes your lips.

“You’re already getting hard,” you breathe, your voice feather-light. The thought of having him in your hand, or even taking him deep into your mouth, sends a shiver of anticipation through you.

He grunts, “What did you expect? Now strip so I can see that lingerie, babe.” His voice is rough with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

You laugh wholeheartedly, the sound echoing in the intimate space, because that is so Yoongi. You know the thought of your lingerie has probably been driving him wild since you hinted at wearing it.

With a teasing smile, you rise from the bed and stand tall before him, well, not taller, but still. Holding his gaze, you let your hands travel to your back, finding the zipper and pulling it down slowly. The sound fills the van, and you see Yoongi’s brow twitching, his anticipation evident. He's probably doing all he can to resist the urge to ravish you right then and there.

You let your wedding dress cascade off your frame, sliding down your hips and pooling around your feet. Yoongi’s expression is priceless; his adoration for you is unmistakable, his lust palpable in the way his lips curl into a smile and his eyes unabashedly roam over your body. You bask in his gaze, loving every second of it. Your hands find their way to your breasts, groping and pressing them together. “Do you like it?” you ask, mirroring his earlier question, batting your eyelashes at him with a feigned innocence that you both know is far from the truth.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just stands there, taking you in. His eyes roam over your white lingerie set, lingering on the lacy bra that’s sheer enough to reveal the darker hue of your nipples. Delicate strings extend from the cups, winding over your shoulders and around your waist, accentuating every curve. You’re wearing a white lace g-string to match, barely covering anything, and to complete the look, a suspender belt holds up a pair of white lacy stockings. His silence speaks volumes, the heat in his gaze making you feel more desired than ever.

You chuckle softly, the sound filling the silence as he remains speechless, mesmerized by the sight of you. The power you feel in this moment is intoxicating, knowing you have him utterly captivated. Your eyes sweep over him, taking in every detail, and you lick your lips slowly, savoring the anticipation. Your mind races with wicked ideas of how you can tease him further, heightening the delicious tension between you.

“There’s a wet patch on your pants, Yoon,” you purr, closing the distance between you. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear, your breath hot and tantalizing. Your right hand glides down to his crotch, cupping his dick through the fabric, feeling the heat and firmness beneath your touch.

“Speechless?” you tease, your voice a sultry whisper in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. His response is a low, guttural grunt, and you smile, knowing you have him right where you want him. With a subtle increase in pressure, your hand caresses his cock through his pants, relishing in the power you hold over him.

“Gonna suck your dick, Yoon,” you whisper seductively, your voice dripping with desire. “Gonna make you come down my throat. You can make me choke on your cock. Then you can fill up my pussy, maybe get me pregnant, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Each word is laced with a potent mix of passion and anticipation, igniting a fiery hunger between you both.

You feel a surge of empowerment, like a femme fatale in control of her prey—savoring every moment of rendering him speechless. Damn, you enjoy it way too much. It makes you soak your panties. The anticipation ignites a wildfire of desire within you, causing your senses to heighten. You can practically feel the electric tension crackling in the air as you drop down to your knees, a siren of seduction ready to unleash your desires upon him.

With a swift and practiced motion, your hands move with purpose, deftly unzipping his dress pants and pulling them down, along with his underwear, revealing the object of your desire in all its glory.

His dick springs free, a tantalizing sight that never fails to ignite desire within you. You revel in its presence, appreciating its length and girth, knowing how perfectly it fits you and the pleasure it promises. In this moment, with his dick before you, you feel a surge of ownership and longing, your heart racing with a potent blend of love and lust, knowing that it’s now exclusively yours to enjoy.

You take hold of him, your fingers wrapping around his dick, and you give him a slow, deliberate stroke, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. Then, with a teasing smile dancing on your lips, you lower your head and flick your tongue across the sensitive tip, savoring the way he shudders with raw desire at your touch.

Your gaze meets his, a facade of innocence masking the minx within, especially when it comes to him. You lock eyes, finding his already lost in ecstasy, as you trail your tongue along his cock, savoring the way his breath catches and he bites down on his lower lip, unable to contain his desire.

“I want to hear you, Yoon. And I want you to fuck my mouth. I’ll let you know if it’s too rough, okay?” You don't wait for a response; his stunned silence tells you all you need to know.

You take him fully in your mouth in one smooth motion, your hand gripping the base of his shaft firmly.

You take him deep, your mouth accommodating his full length as you breathe rhythmically through your nose, ready to embark on your task. Working your mouth back and forth along his shaft, you elicit low, primal sounds from him. His fingers thread through your hair, anchoring you as you establish a steady, deliberate rhythm.

You ensure to maintain eye contact with him, locking gazes as you work your magic. His intense stare reflects his captivation with you, every movement you make drawing him deeper into the moment. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip, you create a vacuum, engulfing him in a whirlwind of sensation. He tightens his grip on your hair, emitting a primal hiss of pleasure, lost in the ecstasy you provide.

You take him deeper, pushing past the boundaries of your comfort to savor every inch of him. As he brushes against the back of your throat, you battle your gag reflex, determined to accommodate him fully. Finally, your nose nestles into his soft curls, and the heady scent of him envelops you. A primal moan escapes your lips, unleashing a torrent of arousal that courses through your veins, igniting every nerve ending in a frenzy of desire.

You maintain a steady rhythm, your lips and tongue caressing him with a practiced finesse. Yet, as your jaw begins to protest and your throat yearns for respite, you glance up at him, silently begging him to take control. Your eyes implore him, a silent plea for release, while a gentle tap on his thigh conveys your need for a change in pace.

“Damn,” he finally speaks, his voice hoarse with desire. Running a hand through his tousled black locks, he gazes at you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You look so perfect like this,” he continues, his fingers tenderly tracing the curve of your cheek. “With my cock in your mouth. Let me take over, babe.”

Relief washes over you as you relinquish control, allowing yourself a moment to simply savor the feeling of his dick between your lips, the weight of him against your tongue. It’s a welcome reprieve, a chance to lose yourself in the pure physicality of the moment.

With a firm grip on your hair, he sets a rhythm, each thrust pushing deeper into your eager mouth. Your jaw slackens, welcoming him eagerly as he moves with a primal urgency that ignites a fire within you. The intensity of his movements sends shivers down your spine— rough and fast.

Panting, he murmurs, “You in that lingerie set are really doing something to me,” his words punctuated by the force of his thrusts, each one harder and more desperate than the last.

Your eyes begin to water, but the overwhelming pleasure makes you love every second of it.

His breath comes in ragged pants as he locks eyes with you. “That suspender belt on your waist… you must be trying to kill me, because, fuck,” he groans. Sweat begins to form at his hairline, and the sight of his damp white shirt clinging to his skin makes him look utterly sinful.

“I want to fuck you wearing that so bad, babe,” he groans, his voice heavy with desire. You feel him twitch in your mouth and respond by suctioning your cheeks tighter around him, humming softly to intensify his pleasure.

It makes him shudder, and you can tell he’s close. Just a bit more, and you’ll have him spilling down your throat, you’re sure of it.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. I can’t hold back with you looking at me like that,” he groans, your name falling from his lips as he spills inside your mouth. Your hands grip his hips tighter, feeling him pulse as he thrusts a few more times, making sure you take every drop.

It tastes salty, just as always, but you savor it like a fine wine. When he finally pulls out, you make sure to show him your tongue, every drop swallowed, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, your panties already soaked, the wetness likely trailing down your thighs.

“Yoongi, I love you,” you gasp, breathless, your hand brushing away the tears that had escaped while he fucked your mouth.

“I love you too,” he murmurs tenderly, his hand cradling your jaw before his fingers trace lightly over your lips. “Come on. Get up and get back on the bed.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine as you comply. Rising from your position on the floor, you crawl over to the bed and settle yourself down, anticipation coursing through every fiber of your being.

Yoongi steps out of his pants with fluid grace, tossing his shoes aside before shedding his blazer and pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his naked form. You’re captivated by him, every inch of his body resonating with an irresistible allure. His skin, its familiar pale hue, speaks of hours spent indoors tinkering with cars, sculpting his lean physique with just a hint of muscle, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

As Yoongi draws near, he takes your feet in his hands, removing your heels with a gentle tug and allowing them to drop to the floor.

“What do you want, babe? I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, his eyes filled with tender affection, awaiting your heart's deepest longing.

“I want to have your babies. Like we talked about. I want that future with you,” you confess, your voice trembling with anticipation, your body arching towards him, showing him just how wet you are, a silent invitation for him to claim you completely.

“Oh, babe. You know I want that too. It will be a moment before I’m ready to go again,” he murmurs, his hand moving to your leg, his touch sending shivers down your spine as his fingertips trace patterns of intimacy on your skin, making goosebumps appear.

“Just touch me. I want your hands all over my body, please, Yoon,” you plead, your eyes locking with his, your voice a soft melody of longing, your lip quivering as you await his touch.

He traces the map of your skin with a feather-light touch, igniting a trail of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. As his fingers dance closer to the apex of your pussy, you hold your breath, yearning for his touch, but he tantalizingly skirts past, teasingly exploring every inch of your being before finally reaching your breasts.

“Your boobs are so perky,” he murmurs, his touch tracing the delicate contours of your bra, coaxing your nipples to a tantalizing peak.

“No, they’re not,” you pout, feeling your pussy tighten and your body quiver in response to his touch.

“Don’t speak ill of your body. You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice a soft murmur against your skin as he gropes your breasts, his thumb tracing tantalizing circles around your nipples. Your heart races, torn between the desire for him to take you now and the intoxicating thrill of the teasing.

“And now you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice dipped in darkness and possessiveness, thick with lust, sending shivers down your spine.

You chuckle softly, a playful glint in your eyes. “I was yours long before we said ‘I do.’ Marriage didn’t change that, you know?”

He chuckles softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine, yet his eyes hold yours, intense and full of promise. “Oh, I know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your skin. “But now I have a piece of paper that says you’re mine and mine alone.”

You ask with a playful giggle, shifting closer into his touch. “Yoongi, are you possessive?” It’s more a statement than a question; you already know the answer. He’s likely the most possessive guy you’ve ever met, but it’s a quality you adore, one that ignites a wild, untamed energy within you.

“You know I don’t wanna share you with anyone,” he murmurs, locking his gaze with yours. The intensity in his eyes makes you wonder if he’s truly afraid of losing you, even though he shouldn’t be. You’ve loved him for so many years, most of them spent in denial, but they still count. His possessiveness only reassures you of the depth of his feelings, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You know I’d never leave you, right?” you whisper, your voice filled with unwavering devotion and the weight of all the years you’ve shared, your eyes searching his for the reassurance you know you don’t need but crave to give.

“Hmmm, yes I know. You love me and my big cock too much,” he laughs, glancing down as his dick twitches back to life.

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” you roll your eyes, only to moan as he pinches your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “But I guess it’s okay when you can back it up.”

“And yes, I love you,” you purr, your voice dripping with desire. “Now show me why I can’t get enough of that big cock of yours. I’m so wet already, Yoongi. Touch me,” you plead, spreading your legs even wider, a desperate invitation for his touch.

He licks his lips, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Then get on your hands and knees and lift that gorgeous ass for me, love.”

You shudder, anticipation coursing through you as you turn around and lift your hips, presenting yourself just the way he likes.

His hands glide over the curve of your ass, sending shivers through your body. His fingers find the straps of your suspenders, tugging them taut before releasing them to snap back against your skin. The sharp slap makes you hiss in pleasure, each stinging contact like a playful spank that only fuels your arousal, leaving you wetter by the second.

He does it again, and this time, a needy moan escapes your lips, the sound of it echoing through the van and blending with the rhythmic patter of rain outside.

You feel his hard cock press against your ass, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. The thought of him entering you, filling you completely, drives you wild with desire. You crave it, crave him, more than anything.

He seizes the suspenders once more, pulling them taut, their snap against your skin echoing in the confined space of the van, a sharp punctuation to the electric tension between you.

Fuck. You’re probably dripping on the sheets now.

With precision, he adjusts his position behind you, his touch gentle yet purposeful as he shifts your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the curves of your ass before the tantalizing sensation of his dick against your folds sends shivers down your spine.

“Down,” he purrs, his voice low and commanding, as he presses your back and head into the sheets with the firmness of his strong hand, igniting a primal thrill that courses through your veins.

You comply, sinking into the plush sheets, your anticipation mounting as you feel his cock teasing against your slick folds, yet he doesn’t yield to the sweet surrender of penetration.

With each powerful thrust, his hands firm on your hips, you feel the friction igniting a wildfire of need between you, his desire branding your skin with each passionate press.

“Fuck. You look so pretty in this. So sexy,” every movement sends ripples of pleasure through you, his words adding fuel to the fire of arousal burning within. His praise ignites a fierce longing, amplifying the intensity of every thrust against your folds, like he was fucking into you.

Desire courses through you like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought in its wake. The sensation of his fervent thrusts against your skin is intoxicating, yet beneath the surface, a primal yearning gnaws at your core, demanding to be sated with the ultimate union of your bodies.

Surging waves of pleasure crash over you, catching you off guard as your senses reel from the approaching climax. His name escapes your lips in ragged breaths, a fervent prayer whispered into the fabric of the sheets as ecstasy dances on the precipice of release.

As his tip brushes against your sensitive nub, a wave of ecstasy washes over you, eliciting a throaty moan of pleasure. It’s almost overwhelming, the intensity of sensation sending shivers down your spine. Every nerve ending ignites with desire, leaving you breathless and craving more. Fuck. Why does it feel this good? The question lingers in your mind, lost amidst the whirlwind of bliss.

“Do you think you can come like this?” His voice is a sultry whisper, laden with anticipation, as he plunges deeper onto your pussy. With each forceful thrust against your throbbing clit and slick folds, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

You clamp down on your lip, fighting back the wave of pleasure that threatens to engulf you completely.

Through a choked sob, you manage to gasp out a breathless affirmation, your voice trembling with anticipation and need. “Yes,” you confess, your admission punctuated by the primal rhythm of his thrusts, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

Every nerve in your body hums with a delicious tension, coiled tight like a spring ready to burst. With each electrifying touch, each tantalizing thrust, you teeter on the edge of oblivion, your senses ablaze with the promise of release. You’re on the brink, trembling on the precipice of ecstasy, and you know it won’t take much more for him to send you spiraling into blissful chaos.

“I’m already close,” you gasp, your voice a breathless plea, heavy with need and desire.

That admission ignites a fire within Yoongi, prompting him to alter his rhythm, trading speed for slow deliberate, powerful thrusts.

Fuck! His cock now pounds against your clit with even more intensity, sending waves of exquisite sensation coursing through you. It’s almost unbearable. It feels fucking delicious and you can’t take it anymore.

The moment is so intense, and you cry out his name as pleasure washes over you, without his skilled fingers or tongue touching you. It’s mind-blowing.

“Good girl,” his words of praise rain down on you like a soothing melody, even as he continues his slower thrusts, allowing you to savor the waves of your orgasm that leave you trembling with desire.

“Fuck, Yoongi. That was amazing, I—,”

You’re cut off as Yoongi slowly eases his length into your entrance, the sensation of stretch mingling with pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. It’s intoxicatingly good, so utterly delicious, causing your fingers to clench around the sheets in a desperate grip.

“Fuck!” you pant, each inch he pushes in sending tremors of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending with a feverish intensity of lust.

“Shit, you’re always so tight. And taking me so well,” he praises you, his voice husky with desire as your body responds, your inner muscles clenching around him in a rhythmic dance of ecstasy, eliciting a deep, primal moan from him.

When he’s finally fully in, you feel a rush of relief flood through you, the sensation of him stretching you sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His hands roam your ass with a possessive hunger, seeking out the suspenders once more. As he pulls on them, the satisfying slap against your skin sends a jolt of delight through you, causing you to instinctively clench around him, eager for more.

“You really like that huh?” he chuckles, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and desire, “I do too. Seeing you like this, feeling you react to me—it’s intoxicating.”

“Yes! Just fuck me, Yoongi. I need you, I want you. Fill me up. Fuck me good and make me yours,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire, each word punctuated by the heat of the moment.

“What my wife wants, she’ll get. You can count on that, love. I’ll fuck you good, don’t worry,” he reassures you with a firm pat on your back before plunging into you with renewed intensity, his movements becoming faster and harder with each thrust.

You moan uncontrollably, the sound escaping you in a crescendo of pleasure, unabashedly indulging in the obscenity of your own desire as he drives you to the brink with his relentless and skillful thrusts.

As he strikes that tender spot deep within you, a surge of ecstasy washes over you, rendering you utterly powerless to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, each thrust opening you up to a realm of bliss.

“Shit, I’m happy that I’ve already come, otherwise I’d be done for already,” he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives himself deeper into you, each thrust a symphony of raw desire and primal need.

Your relief mirrors his own, knowing that this time together will stretch out deliciously, allowing you to savor every moment of his passion. The anticipation builds within you, a craving to witness every expression, every twitch of pleasure on his face.

“Yoongi, please, I wanna see your face while you fuck me,” you plead, yearning to lock eyes with him as he thrusts into you. You strain to turn your head, craving the connection, the intimacy of sharing this moment with him, body and soul.

He pauses, withdrawing his cock from you momentarily, his breaths heavy with anticipation. “Then flip over, love,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise, “Lie on your back, so I can see your face too as I make you mine.”

You comply, following his command eagerly, turning over and settling onto your back, legs parted invitingly. As he approaches, his dick in hand, slick with your essence, your anticipation heightens, every nerve alight with the promise of his touch.

“You look so gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he guides his cock back into your pussy, each inch a testament to the intensity of your connection. A soft moan escapes your lips, his name a melody of pleasure on your tongue, as you revel in the ecstasy of his touch.

In this intimate position, you relish the opportunity to witness his unraveling, to see every expression of pleasure etched across his face as he reaches the pinnacle of ecstasy. When he finally succumbs to the waves of climax, it’s a sight that steals your breath away, one of the best in this world.

As he fills you up to the brim, a surge of affection floods through you, reflected in the warmth of your smile. With deliberate patience, he establishes a rhythm that's both tender and intense, each deliberate movement igniting a firestorm of sensation within you. The tantalizing dance of his hips against yours is almost torturous in its exquisite pleasure.

“You’re so handsome, Yoon,” you praise him, your voice a breathless whisper. “The way you’re making love to me right now… Fuck, it’s so good, I love it.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a subtle sign that he might not last as long as he thinks he will. A smirk dances across your lips, silently daring him to prove you wrong.

He descends to kiss you, the connection between your lips deep and passionate, matching the rhythm of his slow thrusts. The intimacy of the moment envelops you, igniting a fiery passion within. As he trails down to your neck, his kisses turn into playful nibbles, then a light bite, accompanied by a low, guttural groan of pleasure.

As his movements become more erratic, you sense his dick twitching more, prompting you to inquire, “Are you getting close again, Yoon?”

His voice, husky and filled with desire, caresses your ear as he murmurs your name, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes smoldering with lust. “Not yet,” he breathes, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes rove over your body as his hands follow suit, moving to your breasts. He tugs at the lace, pulling the cups and bra up to expose your bare skin, wanting to see you fully, unobstructed by the fabric.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing over your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples, sending shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

With a teasing pinch of your nipples, he makes you hiss his name in pleasure, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he rolls his hips into you.

He moves down again, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, making you arch your back in delight. He swirls his tongue around the bud before sucking hard, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The knot in your stomach tightens, the sensation building rapidly. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge, almost ready to be pulled under, but not quite there yet.

“Fuck, Yoon. I’m so close,” you pant, your hands tangling in his black hair. You tug, making him release your nipple with a groan.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice dripping with desire and affection.

“Touch my clit,” you pant, desperate and so fucking close, craving his touch to push you over the edge and come around his cock.

Before he sits back up, he leans in to kiss you deeply, then his hand finds your clit, teasing it lightly before tugging at the swollen nub. As his dick hits your soft spot, the pleasure intensifies, and you know you’re on the brink of coming, seeing stars with every thrust.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rolling his hips into your pussy. His fingers work your clit with vigor, perfectly synchronized with his thrusts. The light pressure on your clit is just right, deep enough to make you shudder, your toes curling in pure delight.

“Yoon!” you warn him, feeling your body tighten in response to his touch. Then, like a coiled spring released, you cream his cock, his fingers still swirling slow circles on your clit.

You pant for air, your body thrashing on the bed, but Yoongi, skilled and attentive, steadies you somewhat with his other hand.

“So pretty. You’re leaking,” Yoongi murmurs, his gaze fixed on the point where your bodies are joined. You sense his appreciation for the sight, the way his eyes trace the path of his cock disappearing into you. Damn, you love seeing it too, and his fascination with your joined bodies sends a thrill through you. You can only imagine the mesmerizing image below, your cum dripping out of you while he continues to fuck into you.

Your pussy pulsates around his dick, a rhythm of its own, coaxing a deep, primal sound from his lips as he spills his seed inside your warm, welcoming depths, filling you up with each pulse of his release.

“Shit, sorry,” he pants, his grip on your left leg tightening slightly as he adjusts his position, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head, a grin spreading across your lips. “Don’t apologize for not warning me, Yoon. I don’t care. You can come where and whenever you want.” Your words are laced with desire, your voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver down his spine.

You pull him down into your chest, enveloping him in the warmth of your embrace, his head resting against the softness of your breasts, while you feel a mixture of yours and his liquid seep out of you.

Yoongi breathes hard, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his exertion, his ear pressed against your chest, soaking in the comforting cadence of your heartbeat.

“Damn. It hit harder the second time. Caught me off guard,” he chuckles against your chest, his voice husky and tinged with fatigue, a testament to the intensity of your shared passion.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, your hands soothingly tracing patterns on his back, eliciting a shiver from him that resonates within you as you feel him twitch slightly inside your pussy.

You don’t want him to pull away from you yet, so you hold him close, relishing in the intoxicating blend of his musky and sweaty scent enveloping you.

“Thank you, Yoongi. For marrying me, for loving me,” you start, your voice heavy with emotion, tears brimming in your eyes, each word carrying the weight of years of pining, love from afar and all the moments you’ve shared with him.

He adjusts himself, his gaze locking with yours, “I should be the one thanking you. For loving me, for marrying me. For putting up with all my shit over the years.” His words carry a mix of gratitude and sincerity, a testament to the depth of his appreciation for your unwavering support and enduring love.

You chuckle softly, your eyes shimmering with affection. “Thank you for making today magical. With the twinkling lights and all the little surprises you had in store. You truly are the sweetest.” Your words are tender, carrying a warmth that reflects the depth of your appreciation for his thoughtfulness and effort.

With a soft smile, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of his love and gratitude.

As he draws back, his gaze sparkles with boundless affection, warming your heart and coaxing a smile from your lips in response.

“Where will our adventure take us for our honeymoon?” you inquire, drawing him close for another tender kiss, eager to embark on this new journey together.

“I’ve already booked it. You’ll wait and see, it’s a surprise” he declares with a grin, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. You’re left wondering if it’s a tropical paradise with sandy beaches or a lush, verdant haven tucked away in nature’s embrace.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

Did you like it??? Are you excited for where they’re going on their honeymoon? 🥹

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alastor-x-reader-stories · 4 months

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To Rate a Hug part 2 of ?

Tags: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer Morningstar x Reader, humor, antics, shenanigans, Alastor is a petty bitch, Lucifer is a dork, Reader is also a dork

part 1

Alastor’s ear twitched at the sound of someone shouting your name. He glanced over, seeing Lucifer skip up to you like a lovestruck fool.

“Hey, Luci!” You said with a grin, scooping up the fallen angel in a hug. Lucifer’s eyes briefly took on a heart shape as he hugged you back, a light blush on his cheeks.

Alastor turned his attention back to his reading. A low growl permeated from his chest without his permission which agitated him even more. Wasn’t the thing you said at that silly little activity about wanting his attention? Why now has that shifted to Lucifer?

Was it because he gave you what you wanted?

Alastor gritted his teeth, grin straining. This is a ridiculous waste of thought. If this pettiness is simply because he wouldn’t indulge in your strange desires than it wasn’t worth his time-

“Alastor, you okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his musings. He quickly composed himself and gave you a bright smile.

“Of course, my dear!” He said “Whatever makes you think otherwise?”

“Um. Probably because you’re hunched over in the corner growling.” Lucifer said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alastor’s eye twitched. Why was this idiot still here?

“Don’t you have something you need to be doing?” He said with mock interest “I imagine the King of Hell has quite a full schedule.”

Lucifer shrugged “Not really. I’m kind of just here to look pretty.”

You snickered at that, covering your mouth with one hand. Lucifer stood up taller, puffing his chest out.

“Yes, well. I do.” He said, slipping away into the shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your ears went down, watching Alastor slip away. Did the conversation from the other day bother him that much? If that’s the case you’d need to apologize. And, well, no time like the present.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” You said, shooting Lucifer a smile. The King jumped a bit at your voice, startled out of the glaring contest he was having with where Alastor just was. He frowned at you.

“Um. Maybe you shouldn’t?”

You picked him up and held him out at arm’s length “Listen, I get where you’re coming from, but I think this is partially my fault, so I need to talk to him.”

“How is it your fault he’s an asshole?” Lucifer said, flailing his arms about.

“Well…Maybe my comment in the Truth or Dare thing made him uncomfortable…”

“That’s his problem, then.” He snorted, crossing his arms.

You sighed, gently placing Lucifer back on the ground. You put his hands on both of his shoulder and leaned down to be eye-level. “Again, I appreciate where you’re coming from. But I feel like I should talk to him about this so I’m going to.”

He bit his lip, brows furrowing. “Uh….Okay.” He ran a hand down his face “Just. Just be careful, all right?”

You grinned “Nah, I’mma run with scissors.”

“That’s like, the opposite of careful.” Lucifer pouted. He took a deep breath and gave you a small smile. “See you later.”

You said your farewell and scuttled off. Alastor would likely be in either his room or his radio tower, you figured. Which were both typically off-limits but you’d be sure to get his permission before barging in. You stopped by his tower first and knocked on the door a couple of times. When that got no response at all you scurried over to his room and knocked a couple times.

“Who’s there?”

Oh boy you could not resist. “Owl says!”

“…Owl says who?”

“That they do!” You said, cackling at your own stupid joke. There was another staticy cackle that quickly joined your own. The door opened and Alastor grinned down at you.

“Very silly joke, my dear. What can I help you with?”

You snorted, wiping a hand under your eyes to brush away the tears. “Well, you’re in a better mood.”

“Difficult not to be when someone surprises you with a horrible knock-knock joke.” He said with the slightest shrug of his shoulders.

“Good point.” You said “Hey, can I talk to you?”

“Fascinatingly enough, you already are.” He said, tilting his head.

“Not what I meant-“

“I know, I know. Come on in.” He said, putting a hand between your shoulders and pushing you inside. He kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe and stood there probably doing something but you weren’t paying attention, staring instead at Alastor’s room.

Half of it was a fancy-looking hunting lodge, while the other half a swamp. Fireflies blinked in and out over the waters and you could hear crickets and frog chattering. It smelled like damp moss and sawdust with just hints of coffee.

“Nice room.” You said dumbly. Alastor chuckled, pushing you over to the soft-looking lounge chairs and sitting you down. He sat across from you, crossing his legs in front of him and folding his hand on his lap.

“Now, what did you need to talk about?”

“Oh! Yeah.” You said and turned your attention away from the giant gator skeleton mounted on the wall. “I wanted to apologize.”

He tilted his head “…For what?”

“Um. I think I made you uncomfortable.” You rubbed the back of your neck “With the ‘who I’d want to hug’ comment? I really should’ve kept that to myself. I mean, I know you like your personal space and don’t really want people thinking of invading it-.” You stopped your rambling and took a steadying breath. “So. Yes. I wanted to apologize.”

Empty static hung in the air. You started rocking in your seat, hunching over yourself. Alastor just stared at you, glowing red eyes a sharp contract to the gentle greens and browns behind him.

“I suppose I didn’t expect you to give up quite that easily.” He said, grin unmoving. He tilted his head to the opposite side, eyes squinting ever-so-slightly “If that’s something you wanted so badly, after all…”

You blinked. “Um.” Then realization hit you with a brick “…Did you want me to try hugging you?”

The audible record scratch gave you an answer. Alastor straightened up, clasped hands tightening into a white-knuckled grip.

What he wanted was your attention back on him, and not that fool of a king. What he wanted was you to pursue him and not Lucifer.

“Perhaps.” Alastor said.

You sighed. “Then you should’ve said so, Alastor. I’m not a mind reader. What I got from our talk after that was you thought I wanted something from you and that made you uncomfortable.”

Alastor’s ear twitched. “…So you’re diverting your attention to Lucifer because….?”

You shrugged “Dude’s touch-starved. You give him a hug and he turns into the happiest person in Hell.”

You jumped when Alastor had appeared right in front you. His grin was wide. “So it’s pity that has your attention on him?”

“Uh. No.” You muttered, pushing him away “Really it’s just… Well he gives pretty good hugs. Once I realized I can pick him up to the hug was pretty much perfect.”

“Oh I’m sure I can be much better.” Alastor said with a huff, waving you off. “You wouldn’t have to break your spine or pick someone up for a embrace of much higher quality.”

You rose your eyebrow, ears flicking. “Okay. Before I continue. Our conversation has lead be to believe you want me to try and hug you. Is this correct?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Not really, saying giving mixed signals and being cryptic are your favorite past times.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

Alastor’s grin stiffened. His ears pinned back as he suddenly found the swamp more interesting. He snapped his fingers and a piece of paper appeared over your face. You jumped, startled, then took the paper and read it.

Yes pursue the hug thing and tell NO ONE.

You snorted, biting your lip not to laugh. But then you laughed anyway.

“Oooooh buddy you have no idea what kind of game you’re playing now.” You said with a sinister grin. “I’mma hug you.”

“I’m sure your attempts will be amusing.” He said casually, checking his claws.

“I warn you, I have many sinister plans at my disposal.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Starting my first plan. A-hem. Can I hug you?”

“Mmm….Nope!”

Well that didn’t work.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #humor #communication for the win

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brynn-lear · 1 month

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Sugar Pills (Yandere!Capitano/Reader)

Questionable Overview: You're getting real tired of Dottore's theatrics. Which is a great shame, considering how it's only now that Capitano learns the value of surface acting and masking. (from my series: #Capitano's So-Called Liability)

CW/Tags: there is no "real" age gaps since this is a Howl's Moving Castle scenario, slowburn/soft yandere themes, afab!reader, mild violence. While this fic isn't "too dark", the reader isn't mentally stable. Please prioritize your mental health first, you matter.

Prev || Next

When coming up with a proposal, you've learned that it's best to approach a harbinger when they're in the middle of an arms race. It's been ages since you've applied this knowledge, but luckily, dusting off memories of yesteryears isn't challenging.

"Can't even spare me a proper welcome?" You yawned, dropping a beaten and dead fatuus just inches away from an unforgettable metal-laced shoe. The sound of their empty vision clunked on the hard floor. "I might not be as much in the spotlight these days, dear, but isn't it good manners to greet your elders properly when they visit?"

The aforementioned shoe brushed the body away. "Hah. You make a terrible habit of flaunting that cosmetic age of yours."

And yet, there you stood, glaring with a smug head up high. No ordinaire can don the demeanor you flaunt in front of the second-ranked harbinger. You'll always keep the cloak-and-dagger act. Dramatics are second nature to those who earn their keep through blood money. You only saw it right to greet him with a more appropriate entrance. Bold and unfaltering in resolve.

"And you have a great habit of looking younger with each passing day," you feigned a chirpy tone. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Behind a crow's mask, crimson eyes bore holes into your very being.

Since you received that "birthday present" from him, he had sent out men to secretly nag you behind the Captain's back. They ask you why you haven't taken the medicine at best and attempt to drug you at worst. This rendezvous had been going on for weeks. Enough times that could manifest anger and murderous intent out of you until it did.

After reaching the limit of your patience, you murdered the last person to spike your perfectly fine water, took his vision and portable waypoint, and teleported to his master harbinger's base. Too much work just to get someone to stop pestering you.

The feeling is mutual. Il Dottore— the last of his perspective— also found your presence troublesome.

The second-ranked harbinger spent his "free" time in a painfully bright, pale room. He likes to dub this phase a "recovery state." Typically, there would be plenty of "him" to go around— but striking a deal for a gnosis always beckons a great deal of self-sacrifice. Or self-sacrifice-s.

Hence why you pushed to visit him this instance. Despite his placid demeanor, you're confident he's eager to prove that there's a method to his madness. Oneself is always the greatest competitor.

A proper arms race.

"You know very well that I do not take youth as a compliment," he retorted, though his tone was considerably friendly. He made repeated tapping motions on his armchair, almost impatiently. "What trivial matter have you dared to interrupt my brainstorming session with? Speak now— I'll let you know I'm engaged with matters of greater significance."

"I've done my due diligence of personally replying to your last letter." You glared down at your last victim. "Consider this my thanks."

Without tearing your gaze away, you fished the medicine from your coat and threw it at his chest with all your might. The bottle shattered on the floor.

Greatly "offended" by your rude antics, Dottore defeatedly abandoned his scrawls and turned to properly look at you.

"You decided to skip the pills. How delightfully reckless of you, Granny (Y/n)." He sardonically smiled.

At least he has the decency to name you correctly.

You rolled your eyes as you approached. Once you were just a foot away, you stabbed the corpse's head once more with your cane's pointed base— the force harsh enough to splatter the livor mortis flesh and brain matter on the floor of his beloved laboratory.

What an unnecessarily extreme scene, befitting of your old title.

"I grow tired of your games, Zandik." You spat back. "Must you constantly send your men to make futile attempts to lace my food with your de-aging concoction? I don't appreciate discarding their bodies— much less some perfectly fine meals."

If Capitano were here, he would've made a vague comment about how your value on human life is concerning.

But he doesn't have to know about this interaction.

"You complain about my work, yet I vaguely recall an era in your life in which you'd routinely wake up screaming like a rooster in the morning." Dottore shrugged and pointed to himself. "And who provided you with a cure-all for those night terrors? Go on. I would be enthused to know."

You crossed your arms. The jaded look in your eyes heightened his interest. Hence, Dottore stood up, his footsteps crunching the shattered glass strewn about.

"Let me wager a proper hypothesis for this ...irrational behavior. A possible psychological or existential leaning toward death may be at the root of the patient's ongoing resistance to the recommended treatment." He craned his head like a bird inspecting its prey. "In simpler terms for meager minds like yours to understand: you're not accepting my charity since you wish to die. Is that right?"

Dottore is a reasonable man. Disarmingly charming, even.

This particular segment just hates you.

You smiled back, returning the same malice.

"Who knows?" You tapped the beak of his mask. "Doesn't matter. I didn't come here to get psycho-analyzed. I came here because I want to strike a deal."

Dottore paused.

"I had a prediction that you would ensnare me with a gambit. No small wonder that Omega has found you a captivating individual, (Y/n)."

Many miss the fact that the good Doctor has a "seductive" air about him. He has a charisma that people will either dismiss in fear or fall victim to. You're part of the secret third group— the coworkers immune to his antics.

"Yes, well, I do pride myself on hosting the best picnics by the meadows of Ardravi Valley." You spoke, voice oozing with the same playful banter you once reserved for his deceased copy. "I've got no abundance in lifespan like you. I'd dare say I'm selling myself at a very limited-time offer."

However, this Dottore was not the one you befriended. This was his murderer.

"Playing the card of wisdom with that appearance may fool the world, but you can't dissuade me." Dottore clicked his tongue. "Are you mimicking Sohreh?"

What a surprisingly plain question.

You shrugged. "Am I?"

Feigning impassivity while he could, the Doctor placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Talk."

"I've only one wish, which is for you to stop being such a nuisance." You scoffed. "What can I do to get you to stop trying to make me your side experiment, Doctor?"

Intuition rarely fails you. You knew that this was a matter that could be reasoned with. The problem is that you needed to figure out what your bargaining chip would be. But by the look on his face, he had already sorted that out minutes, maybe even months, before you arrived.

His hand that once hovered on your shoulder slowly snaked towards your neck.

"I have a proposal," Dottore spoke softly.

You hardened your expression. "Spill."

"I can assist you in experiencing that honorable death you craved so much— at the right time and place." Using his thumb, he applied mild pressure against your throat. "However, I'll need you to befriend the upcoming tourists in Natlan."

You blinked.

… What a strange request.

"Befriend… The tourists?" You grabbed his intrusive hand, yanking it away. "What are you on about?"

"Under favorable circumstances, I would have had a copy extract these, but the old conventional tools are unavailable."

"But why?" You raised an eyebrow. "Dear, I just can't quite wrap my head around why this is the gamble you're betting your chips on—"

"And that is precisely why The Tsaritsa dubbed you La Ruffiana and not a respectable title," Dottore smirked, chuckling lowly. "Hence, I'll gladly elucidate you with brief guide questions in a language you're sure to comprehend."

"I'd rather we both save time by revealing the answer, pronto."

Since you had forgotten to let go of his wrist, he used your grip to pull you closer to him.

"Tell me, (Y/n), during the Sumeru fiasco…" With faces just inches away from each other, he tilted and teased your ear with his breath. "Who, indeed, served as the paramount subject in my quest to engineer a being that transcends even the might of the archons?"

… Who?

You placed a hand on his chin to create a respectable distance. "Child, I really hate to say this, but the world doesn't just spin around you and your little experiments. I wouldn't know a thing about that poor, nameless puppet you're on about. But if I had to take a wild guess, you're talking about that man you went and turned into a sorry excuse for an All-Knowing God, aren't you?"

Dottore grinned, baring his sharp teeth.

"I perceive that our memories from that period have been tampered with. Nevertheless, your hypothesis remains merely superficial. There exists an individual whom I regard as the genuine subject of this experiment. Would you toss one last conjecture?"

…

You let out a strangled air, unable to properly articulate your disbelief.

It's the traveler. Of course, it's her.

Dottore aspires to transform humans into gods, yet his attempts have thus far been in vain. Save for one young woman who sought refuge in both Mondstadt and Sumeru, all subjects have perished during testing. In your days as a harbinger, you've watched others toil over the vulneraries and prosthetics the Doctor would jam into them. Your visit to certain hospitals by the desert is your testimony to his apathy. He is driven by relentless curiosity, never pausing for the ethical implications of his research, but would spend hours on the feasibility of his experiments.

You were relieved when you heard he used an inorganic lifeform in his last experiment. But if that was a mere dud, then…

"Don't tell me— all this time, your real goal revolved around how the traveler could ascend into Godhood?" You gawked. "So whatever that puppet was, is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy in failure? Your experiments in blasphemy will always find new ways to make me utterly sick."

You flinched as Dottore caressed your cheek. It wasn't the contact that shocked you.

It was the respect in his eyes.

"Hmm... About a year ago, you'd make conscious efforts to bite your tongue. I must remark that I am fascinated with the concerning spike of confidence your senile age brings."

"Things change." You mocked him. "You should try growing older. About a year ago, I wouldn't have this deal with you, too."

With that, the verbal contract was set into motion.

"We'll keep in touch."

He pulled away.

You scoffed. "If I believed in Celestia, I would've prayed you'd become a decent person."

"How unfortunate that you'll need a stronger God to achieve that ambition," Dottore laughed. "And materializing a stronger God is precisely part of my current objectives."

This heretic.

"I see now why you and Capitano are far too different to be colleagues."

You glared.

"Have your glory. You may receive everything— the ego in victory— the spoils of war. Celestia may even watch you steal the blessings of ascension. But you have no honor. You live with no happiness."

You grumbled while you walked away. The erratic sound of your cane reflected the rhythm of your anger and disgust. Before you left, you gave him one high note to end on.

"You dance with no music."

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Dottore quickly returned to his near-incoherent scrawling.

"I'd rather be a fool who performs for no one," he grinned, his stomach tucking in from stifled laughter. "Than a blabbering grandmother scared of sugar pills."

"(Y/N)!!!"

Upon your supposedly quiet return to the inn, you were greeted by a pair of large hands squeezing your cheeks with trembling worry.

"I told you to call me Granny—"

"Where have you been?!" He tilted your head, inspecting for wounds like an incompetent father. His strength would usually cause grief, but you've grown used to this. It's a sensation that's hard to hate.

His hands are rough but not unkind.

"When I awoke, I realized you were not in your room." He spoke, evident that he was reeling himself from rambling. Been a long while since you saw his long and gorgeous hair this messy. "Had I not instructed you not to wander alone without one of our men at your side."

The inn's staff whispered among themselves while his men stiffly avoided gazing at you two. You cringe at everyone's bloodshot eyes. There's more room to pity the Natlan locals— they didn't ask to be involved. Capitano ordered a search party this late on your behalf when there was zero need for it. The attention was getting embarrassing.

You should've known that he'd notice your absence.

Damn it. You were barely gone for half an hour.

"Steel yourself, child. I don't need your men to coddle me." Months have passed, and he has yet to accept that you do not have a respectable position as a personal assistant. "I can wander around Natlan as safe as I please, kid. Are you seriously doubting my strength?"

That dirty tactic sobered him up.

"You know that isn't so." Capitano sighed, letting you go. "I know you're plenty capable, however..."

"Need I remind you that before the incident, I was originally the Harbinger tasked with retrieving the pyro gnosis?" You shook your head, feigning disappointment. "You should know by now that I've studied this place's typography and wildlife. No encounter could shock and harm me— even with these old bones."

"It's precisely why I worry over you," Capitano glared slightly. "With your curse, you could've been marked by foes out there."

"I didn't go anywhere far. I was just sightseeing."

"That explanation doesn't wash. I saw the glow of a portable waypoint when you came back."

… How observant. That's the first ranked harbinger for ya, you supposed.

"Okay, maybe I went home for a bit, so what?" You pouted. "It's a bit too warm in here for my liking."

The inn's staff immediately froze up.

"N-Not that it's bad, of course!" You laughed nervously. Ah, shit, let's not involve them. "It's my fault 'cause I didn't raise that concern with them. Old ladies such as myself are so stubborn. Hmm, hmm!"

Gradually, Capitano relaxed.

"I understand. At least, I'll choose to understand your fib for now."

"Not quite out of the cage yet, am I?" You joked.

"Not at all." Capitano exhaled softly, a hand barely covering his gentle smile. His voice made it painfully apparent that you're off the hook.

He's such a terrible liar.

Before you could comment on this, Capitano reached out his hand.

"Come with me." He wagged his fingers towards him, beckoning you to come closer. "Let's continue our conversation somewhere private."

Out of the 11 harbingers and those who had come and gone, you know Capitano the most.

"I didn't realize Natlan nights can be cold." You spoke thoughtlessly.

He stared at you blankly. "Cold enough to prevent you from running back home, clearly."

"Ah."

And likewise, he knows you best as well.

You digressed in an instant. "Why did you bring me here, Little Captain?"

You stood by a cliff, staring at the quiet night in the humble town. There's a noticeable increase of guards on patrol since the Fatui arrived in Natlan, but with Capitano as the lead, you saw no reason for their alarm. Obviously, Capitano didn't bring you here to make that observation. Judging from how his stare is on the ground and not the beautiful sight, public perception is pushed at the back of his mind.

"Your cane…" He whispered.

"What about it?"

"You forgot to wash the blood away."

Inspecting the cane without lifting it, you realize what he meant.

"Oh."

"Who was it?" His voice sounded a bit more stern.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Who was what?"

There was a shift in the air.

"Who attacked you?"

…

You laughed uncontrollably.

"W-What?! Pfft— puh-lease! No one attacked me." You poked his helmet. He stared you down, unamused. "No-bo-dy."

Capitano has yet to let his anger go. He spoke steadily, but he wasn't fooling you. "I'll ask once more: who attacked you?"

"Don't tell me your memory is worse than this old lady's," you clicked your tongue. "I just told you, it's nobody."

Capitano shifted his foot down slightly. "Elena reported that you were assaulting a fatuus with your cane in an isolated dining area."

Curses. You thought you were alone. To be caught by Elena, of all people? Your senses must be dulling.

"Well, one of your men— I suppose— was disrespecting their elders."

"I ordered a headcount. None of my men have gone missing." Capitano crossed his arms. "Besides, they know better than aggravating my most prized assistant."

Should've known that lie won't fly.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't one of your men." Obviously it was Dottore's, but you bit your tongue. "But you should know I'm a polarizing figure in the Fatui. I heard someone say that getting rid of me is a noble act cause they'd be removing your right from employing an absolute loser."

"(Y/n), where did you get those ideas?"

Honestly? Straight out of your 'lovely' imagination. If not inspired by Pantalone's past remarks as well— just cruder.

It’s almost commendable how easy it is to assume everyone is out to get you. The work environment certainly helps. A strange grin or remark is sufficient to validate any doubts. Probably illogical for you to live life this way. You're aware enough that not every whisper is about you and that not every grin hides some hidden agenda, yet the uncertainties still seep in so effortlessly that it almost seems like breathing.

You've yet to find someone who will prove your inherent distrust wrong. That body you hurled at Dottore earlier was no exception.

"Whoever attacked me doesn't matter; I got rid of them."

"I know you did. I don't reserve any doubt whatsoever. That is not the issue at hand." Capitano shook his head, his last words hiding a slight growl. "What I am perturbed by is how you had hidden this from me."

Your eyes widened.

"I-I'm sorry, forgive me, Capitano." You fumbled. "It was genuinely not as big as you think it is. A traitor was in the mist, and I took care of it."

"You were targeted, (Y/n)," Capitano said, nearly whispering as he gently took your hands. No matter how callous he was or how much his skin resembled etched maps, they held yours with great care.

His eyelids drooped slightly, hiding unspoken grief. "You were attacked when I made an oath that I would protect you while you are under my care..."

Capitano's tone softened further, almost withdrawn from hurt.

"I should have been there..."

You've never been one to immediately process emotions in a snap. When you and Capitano share ideas, theories intersect like constellations on Teyvat nights. But that look in his eye? You can't read what he's thinking.

"Why do you fret over it, dearie? Death is but a doorbell away for me." You hummed with a wide smile. "I'll be claimed soon enough. Maybe tonight might even be the night. Oh, honey, it's no skin off the Tsaritsa's back if an old gal like me bites the dust."

…

You have a feeling you said the worst thing imaginable at that moment.

…

Capitano said nothing.

In fact, you'd wager that was on purpose.

There's a glint in his eye. A look that you couldn't place— a dangerous thought you can't hear. It ringed endlessly in his ears, and the slight tremor in his fingertips proved it. His blue eyes stared straight into your soul.

A revelation. An epiphany. A newfound raison d'etre that he refused to let anyone know— you specifically.

Something about him drastically changed.

But that look vanished in an instant.

Capitano's mouth curled upward.

The smile did not reach his eyes.

"I prefer if it's kind sleep who takes you tonight," Capitano muttered. "Death is far too early for a woman like you."

"A woman like me?" You chuckled. "You meant grandmother, right? And what do you mean by that?"

"A woman like you deserves all the time in the world, not to be taken prematurely. Your spirit is far too bright to be dimmed so soon." He took off his cloak. "Because a woman like you is a woman loved by many."

Capitano wrapped his cloak around you before you realized it. As you looked down, you noticed how much larger his frame was than yours. The cloak reached the floor when you donned it. Though it was night, the cologne he put on reminded you of sun-drenched clothes and steel— but it's possible that this was just Capitano's natural scent.

"I should add cloaks as an interest for your late birthday present." You could practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "It suits you."

Something about the way he sounded was way off now.

The weariness from your conversations with Dottore seemingly washed away. You grabbed a fistful of the cloak and raised it. "I think every tailor in Teyvat would beg to differ."

Capitano chuckled. "Respectfully, they wouldn't know any better."

"And you do?" You raised an eyebrow, but that grin on your face is too difficult to wipe off. "I don't think you know me well, little Captain."

You continued.

"Anyone can learn to like me, but to love me…"

Is devastating.

You trailed off, eyes back on the quiet streets. You've always admired those who teased on the edge of retirement and eternal sleep, their bravery surpassing the young's. They act on reckless abandon, unburdened by the opinions of others. Alice saw this in you, and she knew— deep in her heart— that she'd be more than willing to help you embrace that freedom in whatever form that may take.

Since you became a "grandmother", seemingly everything and nothing has changed. You've pushed away those who pretended to care, only to find that no soul can stand to be with you. Maybe it was a glorious boon or just as the witch said— a desperate cry for help, nothing more. The experience so far taught you things you already knew you hated about yourself that you wondered if this were all for the sake of mastery. Have you destroyed yourself for nothing? Who knows. But you'll continue to take solace that maybe, just maybe, death may end the loneliness you've endured for so long.

But if you so badly chase for death…

"████████."

You looked at him.

"Can I ask for a favor?"

You're going to do it right.

Taglist: @macaronilovingracoon, @lucienbarkbark, @meimeimeirin, @notthefib987, @meowmeowakutagawa

#Capitano's So-Called Liability #yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere capitano #fatui harbingers #dottore #columbina #capitano #genshin #genshin impact #yanderecore #yandere imagines #soft yandere

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missswritesalot · 24 days

Note

Can I request something with Robb stark x shy reader. She is very quiet and a good wife too rob, but she loves seeing him be a true king to his people so when someone comes along and tries to knock him down a few pegs she speaks up and reminds said person of who they are speaking to leaving Robb speechless and a little turned on. You can end it there or add in a little smut if you want. Thank youuu

A/N requests open! Hope you enjoy, anon! There is just a sprinkle of nsfw at the end, but I tagged it with smut just to be safe ;) i think i used the word shy like a million times. Reblog/Comment if you want more!

You and your husband, Robb, were touring the North and providing supplies to the smallfolk to support them through the Winter. There were many grievances to address and you held court at all the small towns.

You hated the attention, and it was a small mercy that you rarely had to speak. Even when Robb needed your counsel, he asked for it in private so you weren’t embarrassed. The eyes of the people on you were enough to mortify you, yet you bore your discomfort silently and stood by his side.

At one such hearing, Robb ordered the Lords of the lesser Northern houses to visit. You were seated next to him on your throne, Greywind sleeping on the raised floor at your feet.

“The old ways have served the North fruitfully for years. Listen carefully, one war does not make a boy a man and you are yet to know the ways of the world.” Lord Karstark said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Robb.

It was the third time he had questioned your husband in front of his Council. You were furious.

All Robb had suggested was reducing the great burden of supporting lesser houses with tithes from the peasants. Many smallfolks families were missing men and weapons due to the war, and winter was coming. It would be his first Winter as King of the North and he wanted all his subjects to survive, not just the noblemen.

You thought it was admirable. You also knew how hard he worked, spending almost all nights this week pouring over papers and accounts.

“Don’t forget yourself, I am the King,” Robb chided him. Greywind woke up and went to him, a silent threat.

“No man that calls himself King is a true-“ Lord Karstark began in his crotchety old voice. Anger coursed through your veins. How dare this senile old man try to insult your husband.

You cleared your throat. The hall fell silent. Robb frowned and turned to look at you. His wife was a woman of few words but they were all worth hearing.

“My King husband would have no need of repeating his station if you would remember it, my Lord. And if you cannot, then perhaps in the evening of one’s life we must accept our limitations and resign to things we are capable of.” You said calmly, yet sharply. Robb’s jaw dropped in awe.

It took Karstark’s slow mind a moment longer to process.

“Control your tongue, woman,” he said said, eyes wild, pointing to you.

“Disrespect the Queen and you will feel my blade,” Robb yelled, stepping down from the throne and pulling out Ice, just as the direwolf by his side leapt into action.

Karstark did not know when to keep hush. He retorted back sarcastically, and the altercation ended with him being dragged to the dungeons for his impunity. The other lords were also greatly displeased with him, for now they had no chance of changing the King’s mind about restoring their allowances.

You were glad to see the end of the day, and walked into the chambers of your current abode with Robb trailing behind you.

“Lord Karstark demands hot oil for his feet, did you hear it, darling?” Robb said, crushing the piece of correspondence he read. “To send his demands with servants even when imprisoned. The gall of him.” He chuckled.

“I’ve had it up to here with that old bastard,” you said angrily. You let your hair down and started running your fingers through it roughly. The more you thought of it, the more your anger flared.

“How dare he set foot in your court, dine and dwell in our hospitality, and feel entitled to disrespect you like that? I will not stand for it, Robb.” You said, tugging at the lacing and stepping out of your gray court dress.

“Age does not guarantee wisdom, darling. Experience does. And the old fool has none.” Robb said, walking up to you and resting his hands on your shoulders. He pushed your hair to the side and kissed up your neck from your shoulders to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him more access. After a while he turned you around and kissed your mouth. You savored his languid kisses. His hands slowly pushed your chemise over your shoulders till it hung just above your breasts.

You pulled away, and leaned back, his strong arms holding you up.

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, love” you said shyly. You were bold in your anger but the shyness was starting to creep in now. “I love you, and I cannot bear to see you insulted after you pour your soul into this Kingdom.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were fantastic,” Robb said, apparently unable to keep his lips off of you. You gasped as he nipped at the bottom of your throat. “I would like to see the wolf in my little wife more often.”

You giggled at his words, and he walked you backwards till your calves hit the bed. Your chemise dropped to your hips and his hands made quick work of finding your breasts.

Your hands came up to cover yourself.

“Robb, the candles,” you said, eyes wide. His own blue ones lit up with mirth.

“I know now that you are not shy, let me see what is mine, darling.” He whispered, pushing your chemise to the floor. You stepped out of it, naked as the day you were born. Your skin felt hot under his hungry gaze.

“Lie back, Y/N,” he said, licking his lips and pushing you down on the bed. “I wish to show you some of my appreciation.” He knelt before you with a wink.

Robbs hands found your knees and he spread them apart. Your hands twisted into his auburn hair in surprise.

And there was nothing shy about the sounds you made that night.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark smut #robb stark x reader smut #robb stark prompt #robb stark request #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark imagines #game of thrones reader insert #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fic

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hwaightme · 7 months

Text

Both

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR STAR’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)(masterlist) (taglist)

❤️‍🔥 pairing: husband!seonghwa x gn!afab!reader ❤️‍🔥 genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established long-term relationship ❤️‍🔥 summary: all work and no play makes seonghwa a needy boy; your husband wants you. now. and he will use any means necessary to get you where he wants you. being in the office is not a problem when you are one message away... ❤️‍🔥 wordcount: 8.6k total ❤️‍🔥 warnings/tags: semi-edited, hwa duality, businessperson!reader, mention of offices/presentations/corporate culture, nonidol!hwa, married but permanently in honeymoon phase, two people very in love, petnames, mutual respect, trust and adoration, seonghwa is smitten, reader wears heels, words crazy+drunk used ❤️‍🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic ❤️‍🔥 a/n: spiralled into ponderings with @byuntrash101 (ily), and my fingers slipped. oops. any notes, asks, reblogs appreciated <3 much love!

❤️‍🔥 taglist: sexting, praise, petnames (love, darling, my love, pretty, gorgeous...), consent is king, unprotected sex (consider before you deliver), mating press/missionary (vanilla but make it spicy), 69 (blowjob+eating out), creampie, cumeating, slight spit kink, sprinklings of body worship, possessive terms (my/mine), light overstimulation, implied aftercare

“How do I look?” you called out to your husband, who was sitting behind you on your shared bed, feline in the way he was leaning back on his arms, regarding you through half-shut, curious eyes.

Unlike you, he had the day free, but even so decided to go through the motions of a morning routine with you, though finalising it with a considerably less formal outfit. Dressed in a black sweater and matching black trousers, Seonghwa had stated that he was going to go out to get some fresh produce from the market while it was still early, and the rush of crowds did not plague the city just yet. Patiently, he was waiting for you to be ready to head out to work, and he, to comfortably support the home front for today.

“Hm, you look like me having to come to work with you and me having a blast telling waves of potential suitors that you are off limits.” He responded as a matter of factly. Nevertheless, you caught a cheeky grin in the mirror as he scanned you up and down with the intensity of a burning sun.

“Oh … Hwa, what if I want the attention? And what are you going to do about the stakeholders I’ll be speaking to, hm?” You asked him coyly, finally managing to get your second earring on and tapping it with your manicured finger for good measure.

“Something tells me that I’ll have to step in and act like security.”

You chuckled, taken aback, pleasantly lightheaded because of Seonghwa’s early morning flirtations. With one final once over, he smoothed the bed sheets on either side of him and rose up to step right behind you, placing both hands under your suit jacket and on your waist, leaning closer and closer until he could place a soft kiss on the side of your neck which, thanks to your hairstyle, was exposed to the attention.

The sleek, deep navy suit was an elegant number, peaked lapels on the single-breasted jacket perfectly pressed, the wide-legged trousers perfectly guiding towards the heels - pumps in a nude beige, and the white asymmetrical short-sleeved shirt underneath all combining to create perfect harmony. You had chosen elegance over daring energetic appeal today, picking pearl-based jewellery which, upon inspection, was exactly how you had imagined it would be with the outfit. A delicate balance was struck, and was reminiscent of how your husband was gingerly manoeuvring over and around you, until he appeared to have had enough with stalling.

Seonghwa’s arms lazily slid forwards, wrapping a little tighter around you, while his head moved to nudge you towards himself with his chin, until he could rest his head on your shoulder comfortably. Initially wishing to pry yourself away given how little time you had left if you were to make it to the office at a reasonable time, your hands rushed to his own, but as your husband began to sway side to side, blissfully taking in the image in the mirror, you left them there, admiring the priceless scene, and the way in which his hands fit perfectly over yours, the rings matching, another sign of your union completing the masterpiece in the reflection.

"Come on, Hwa, I’ll be late at this rate."

"What's it got to do with me, ma'am? I finished getting dressed fifteen minutes ago, was sitting here, all good and ready for you-" ignoring the word choice, you persisted:

"Because a certain someone was hogging the shower-"

"I told you, you could join." heat flushed to your cheeks as you caught Seonghwa’s less than innocent expression, making you remember exactly why you were not planning to get into any intimate shared space with this alluring schemer before work. Planting a feather-light kiss on your sensitive skin, he was threatening to make you lose track of time entirely. Attempting to wipe the action from immediate perception, you focused on the sensation of tugging on one of your earrings, anything to ground you and to return you into the headspace of the meetings you had scheduled and been booked into for the day, along with the details and key takeaways for each one.

You had always been a fighter in the professional world, and this was one of the many things that Seonghwa adored about you. Having met at a networking event, that was the side of you he had come to be acquainted with first, and had fallen head over heels for. A sublime intensity that came with the passion you had for your work, a fire that ignited when you planned ahead, led teams and managed international ventures were so beautifully contained within you and formulated the intricate maze of your psyche that Seonghwa could not help but want to drown in it, and spend eternity observing you in action. He himself had stepped away from the strict and rigorous structures of the corporate world, instead preferring to offer independent consultation services, but to see you flourish, and to be there for your journey and to have you unconditionally support his decisions and experiments too was nothing short of a blessing. Perhaps the one side effect, a tiny challenge that came with having you as his life partner, his love and his spouse is mornings like this, when you were in the process of escaping for work, driven and ready for battle, your armour being one of the stylish suits of impeccable quality that you took great pains to keep pristine. And the more you did so, the stronger was his desire to see if he could ruin just one, at least one, perhaps the one you were wearing right now. Despite the fact that he had seen you in such garments more times than either of you could possibly count or remember, it made him more drawn to you and involuntarily seduced than he would ever dare admit. Seonghwa’s grip on your hips inadvertently tightened as gaze flashed upwards, settling on the reflection of your perfectly plump, tinted lips in the mirror.

“Besides… As you know, I was making sure that the adjustments were all fine and the overall outfit would be fine for the quarterly review meeting,” you recalled your last-minute concerns over whether the selection was reasonable for meeting persons from the executive office, even though you were not sure if you even had outfits in your job-related arsenal that would not be appropriate, “You could have helped by the way.”

"I did! I gave the fit the Seonghwa seal of approval, but now... honestly am regretting it because you look illegal..."

He turned his attention back to the delicate skin around your neck, planting a couple more kisses with mischief glowing in his eyes. You giggled as his breath left a ticklish sensation and you nearly knocked your head with his in an attempt to shy away.

"And how do you think I feel, leaving you at home like this?”, you let your gaze settle on your husband, a ghost of a smirk revealing itself on your lips, “I need to brush up on my cat fighting techniques, mister handsome, and maybe learn how to teleport" Put him in a rag and he would still look spectacular. Like this, in a relaxed, casual outfit that ideally matched his dark locks, highlighted the broadness of his shoulders and the jawline models would be jealous of, he was heavenly - something which you never failed to remind him of no matter what he was wearing. It was almost a shame that you had to leave for work instead of admiring this beauty for the entire day and an eternity more. You bit the inside of your cheek, banishing less than safe for work ponderings from your mind.

"Woah, Y/N, fighting for me? That's kind of - I do not think I should say what I am thinking."

"You’re being awfully cheeky this morning!" You lightly slapped the back of his hand and spun around, coming closer until only a mere couple of centimetres separated you. "What else can a kitty do with her claws?"

"I mean... my back has no complaints." He speedily responded, tightening his hold on your waist and attempting to capture your lips with his. But at this point, you had gotten good enough at reading Seonghwa to move away at the last second, resulting in a loud smooch right against your jawbone, followed by a purposefully childish whine, "Oh darling you are being a tease."

"Naugh- ty- Seonghwa, no kisses. I took too long to line my cupid's bow. I'm not about to let you ruin it."

You tried to wiggle away, wondering if your suit was actually creaseproof as the assistant at the boutique had advertised, but he was having none of it, now grabbing your hands and swinging them side to side. With his prior seductive aura having subsided after your decisive, playful rejection, Seonghwa’s glances were in many ways boyish, permission-seeking. The most miniscule hint of a pout made its way to his lips as he peered what had to be directly into your heart and intertwined your fingers together, stopping the motion.

“Y/N…”

“Keep this thought in mind, lovely, will you be able to?” you purred, amused at your husband’s slow blinking, reminiscent of an affectionate cat.

“Of course,” you dodged another attempt by him to nuzzle into your neck with a soft, melodic laugh, and pulled Seonghwa to follow you out of the bedroom, “Ah, careful,” he rushed to block the door frame, chuckling at your eagerness to get to the hustle and bustle of your day, even though just a little while ago you still were retaining that light nervousness, likely overthinking every interaction that was not even likely to happen. After all, this was a job only you could do, and it was something that you did better than anyone else. You owned what you did, and everyone knew it.

As you grabbed your keys, and were about to bid farewell to your husband before starting your commute, you sensed his energy shifting to that of scheming.

Seonghwa had a trial to face, and it presented itself with how stunning you looked in the glimmering golden light of the early morning, and how your every step almost sent a shiver up his spine. Wherever you were, he always managed to find you in one sweeping gaze, whether you were on the other side of a room or a few steps away. One of a kind, captivating, the world turned around you whether you would agree with Seonghwa or not. It was a simple fact. And here, in your apartment, where it was just you and him, it was impossible to ignore how his vision was occupied by you, and only you. He was consumed by the effortless charm you radiated, and when you caught him staring, how you lifted one shoulder and responded with a cheeky grin - a gesture of faux coyness. He clenched a hand hidden behind his back into a tight fist until his knuckles turned white, mutely regarding your final preparations before you would disappear behind the door. His thoughts were far away from what he had planned to do today, cursing how you had teased him and blaming routines - your husband would have preferred to take you and himself apart right here right now, unravel the tension that was so obvious he could almost taste it. He bit his lower lip as you leaned down to shift your footing in one of your heels, and barely suppressed a hiss as you glided back up, the pace of the motion highlighting how your curves were complemented by the suit. You were enticing, and watching your back Seonghwa could not help but remember the sensation of running his hand across it, caressing your body, guiding it as you turned into a goddess in the dimmed lights of your shared bedroom, connected with him in every way possible. You smiled at him as though you were not aware of the lustful darkness that began to consume his mind, lips tantalising, dangerous, his favourite heavenly nectar. This was unbearable.

It was impossible to ignore the searing gaze that seemed to have never left you since you had first returned it in the mirror, and was the last thing you experienced as you shut the front door. You kept the radio in your car silent, afraid that your thoughts would be louder than the music either way. Your husband was up to something, determined, and focused on you. And it was beyond exciting. This undercurrent of energy that was eternal, and ran through anything and everything he did was one of the multitude of reasons why you loved him. He was enigmatic, and yet so easy for you to explore. He had opened himself up to you so readily, revealing the edges of his vibrant soul that was so unparalleled and high octane that you swore that after meeting him, you ceased to breathe oxygen and could only ever inhale the adoration he provided. He was a dreamer, an ideator, a man devoted to the search for happiness, and that balanced you out so perfectly - it had only been a month when you had decided for yourself that Seonghwa was the one for you, and you would never let go. He was an eternal surprise, an enigma that was as soft and lovely as a cat, but wrapping itself around you like a serpent, slow and sensual. You wondered, as the day commenced and you were pulled into your first meeting, then another, just what your husband had crafted in his beautiful mind palace.

It did not take too long for the plan to reveal itself. Fortunately, because you did not enjoy facing unknowns. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of a meeting with some rather senior people. On the brighter side, you had proposed a five minute break before continuing the session so you had at least a couple of breaths to re-compose yourself, but other than that… it was only you, the phone that you were squeezing so hard in your hand that it could break, and the daring photograph blaring on the screen, setting you on fire. You had exchanged a couple of messages with Seonghwa prior to the meeting, his responses being cryptic and dizzyingly abstract, but nothing could have prepared you for the surprise.

Your other hand quickly found your thigh, gripping onto it so that you would not break your stoic disposition with a shaking leg, and you glanced side to side to make sure that the colleagues next to you had not returned to the room yet, and the others were preoccupied with their own devices or were deep in mundane conversation. So, this was what he was so enthusiastic about down following the morning antics. Clearly, you had not been passive enough for him to dismiss your glances in his direction - if you were to be honest, you had been eyeing him up and down from the moment he intentionally walked into you while changing, making you wonder how it was possible for you to want him more and more with each passing day, rather than feelings of attraction and enamourment subsiding with marriage and with sharing all the ups and downs. Instead, both of you were each other’s paradise, and that presented itself in all forms of desire. As you regarded Seonghwa’s form in the picture, lightly biting your lower lip as you tried to think of how you could respond to it, you could only be amused by how he knew exactly what buttons to press, and how to reignite what you had tried to pause earlier this morning - simply as an attempt to retain your sanity for handling paperwork and handshakes.

Resting on the chair that was in your bedroom, he made sure to accentuate his impeccable form, and how his long hair suited him so spectacularly. He had changed outfits - just for you, and that made you want to devour him all the more. Your precious husband who looked like sin. The vibrant beige jacket, which appeared almost brown in the sensually dimmed lamplight, hung freely over his upper body, revealing a tastefully bare abdomen, and consequently, the lovebites you had managed to leave above his heart and towards his collarbones after a particularly intense night a couple of days ago - they had only now begun to show signs of fading. Towards the very bottom of the picture you could spot the edge of a matching pair of trousers, black belt intentionally loosened to make your imagination run wild. A centrepiece, his black silver necklace and a perfectly paired earring, were the icing on top of the cake, their shimmer beckoning you. It was impossible to choose what to focus on; the head tilt, the elegant hand on which he was practically resting his head, how one leg had been thrown over the other - confident, in his element, so very Seonghwa that it made you hurt; and want him. Desperately. You shut your eyes and rolled them as you imagined the smirk on his face as he sent the image, knowing exactly what state he would pause you in, and hurl you into. When your husband was in the mood, it gave him an additional thrill to either catch you off-guard completely with bold advances and compliments, or fluster you until you were melting in his arms. And you did not mind one bit; that was your time to let go, to give up your stresses and iron grip and let all strains snap and become threads with which Seonghwa could pull at your very essence, praising you for how well you could follow his guidance, and just how perfect you were for him. You did not notice how your thumb was merely hovering over the keyboard until another message slid into view, and you barely suppressed a gasp, again looking up to make sure no one was watching you.

“Missing you, your taste, your everything, darling,”

This was the last straw, as you almost forgot what meeting you were in, where you were, how you were supposed to behave. You jolted upright, standing straight and excused yourself with a bow of the head, pointing at your phone - with the screen turned towards you. It was easy enough to get out, and storming down the corridor until you were out of everybody’s earshot, you pressed onto the call button, only to be met with a deep chuckle after a single ring. You could envision him still sitting on the chair, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling as he toyed with your passions, beckoning you to race home to him. He knew you couldn’t until the day was officially done, and that was part of the fun. It only meant that when you were to finally open that front door, you would be more than ready to give yourself up to his tender love and care.

“Park Seonghwa, what do you think you are doing?” you hissed, pressing the phone right against the side of your face as your foot tapped an abstract rhythm on the carpeted floor.

“What do I think? I think I am talking to you right now, what about you?” he replied, purposefully feigning obliviousness.

“Hwa, the photo… the damn message....”

“Oh! That… yeah, it’s nothing special, really, I just did not send you any in quite some time, so thought I could spark… something,” he paused, indulging in your shallow breathing before finishing the sentence.

“Well you sparked something alright. Seonghwa. Or should I say, my demon of a husband?” you raised an eyebrow as you were met with a silence on the end of the line, but not long after, a sweet, resonant hum of agreement.

“Mm, what a title. Is that how I am making you feel, precious? Are you missing a certain something too?”

Missing. What exactly did both of you imply the other was missing? The word was laden with ambiguity and promise, imagination running wild from the emphasis that Seonghwa had placed on it, lifting it onto a pedestal, above rationality and stability. Inhale, exhale - you counted your breaths, knowing that in a minute you had to be heading back to talk numbers, strategies, even though only your husband would be on your mind.

“I-... yes, damn it,” you mumbled, lashes fluttering as a shiver ran up your spine.

“Mhm, I see… Now, don’t be shy, tell me, what is it that you are missing, what do you feel?” if there had been any hope of you remaining focused on work for the rest of the day, it was most certainly wiped now. You were mesmerised, clinging onto Seonghwa’s voice as though it was your only salvation in the midst of a storm. Quickly, you were losing all sense of your surroundings, too focused on his breaths, his sigh when he was obviously displeased with having to wait for your answer, and finally, his subtle command:

“Don’t be shy, tell me what’s on your mind,” you could not bring yourself to even part your lips, eyes darting to what you could see through the blinds into the meeting room. Your senior colleagues were still lethargic, unfocused, scrolling away or engaging in idle chatter. Maybe it could be advantageous, but judging by the heat that began to rise over your body you would definitely struggle stringing words together with eloquent cohesiveness. Seonghwa. The devious man. Your favourite drug. Your worst and best addiction.

“Perhaps you might need a little… inspiration… yes?”

“I…”

“...wouldn’t mind having you right on my tongue, writhing, falling apart…”

“Park Seonghwa-”

“I want to taste you. Want to keep you close for a long…” he paused, indulging in your electric silence, “long time, warm my cock while keeping you in a tight embrace, kissing you until we cannot breathe… how does that sound?”

“G-good…” you struggled to mumble out, wondering why your knees were transforming into jelly. The coolness of the wall against which you decided to lean provided some illusion of support.

“Your turn,” his tone turned more commanding and that did not go unnoticed. You bit your lower lip, not caring if that was going to smudge your lipstick. Nothing mattered, “I didn’t spare any details,” he waited. You remained frozen in your own thoughts, thousands of desires darting around your mind, but none being brave enough to escape and reveal itself to your husband. Perhaps for the better:

“Please don’t make me beg,” he must have heard you stifle a sound that was far too inappropriate to ever be heard in the workplace - the airy laugh that you were met with over the line was downright sinful, and made you curse your job. You needed him. Needed the release he was so readily offering.

“Or do you want me to pry your dirty little secrets out of you until you are the one begging?”

A shaky inhale, an equally shaky exhale. You uttered his name, in a low voice only he had ever heard. Simultaneously hostile and tantalising. He now knew that he had you hooked.

“Mm… fine. Please, my darling. Please, tell me all those precious filthy musings swimming around in that delightful brain of yours,” you clenched the phone tighter in your hand and crossed your legs. You knew you had no time, despite easily imagining the position that Seonghwa was in, where he was and how lost he was in a lascivious dreamland. Eyes glossed over, lips wetted with his own spit, tension building in his core which he refused to unwind. Without you, at least. With a sharp intake of cold air, you steadied yourself. You were not about to reward demands with treasures.

“Now, what would be the fun in that?”

“Come on… Y/N, I-”

“Be good, and you might just find out.” you cut him off, offering a fake smile to a colleague who walked past you. You needed to come back. Immediately.

“So you will be heading back on time today, right?” he was daring you, but at the same time it was easy to notice the notes of desperation. Untouched, riled up, overwhelmed. Needy. Just how you loved him.

“Hm… I do have a couple of things I could do…” who were you kidding? You had already gone through the fastest route home in your mind.

“Is that refusal I am hearing?” you heard him shift in his seat, the image of him leaning forwards to put an elbow on his knee so vivid that it was as if he was before you.

“Not at all, love, not… at all…” giving up due to your growing distraction, you let your husband have at least a little bit of hope. Clearly, the words worked wonders as with newfound vigour, Seonghwa bid you farewell.

“Then see you soon, Y/N darling.”

Soon could not come soon enough. You were glad no one could see your leg shaking under the table, and that you were well-practised in discreetly checking the time. Teasing, tugging you along to follow his game, striking you out of the blue and opening the door to the world that only you two shared. You would be lying if you said that you were thinking about anyone else while debating with an executive, or when you were brave enough to point out a blatant assumption that was used to support a projection earning yourself a few pointed questions. But nothing compared to the blaze that caressed your skin, spurred you on and made you feel alive. Your favourite deviant, seductive god, king of your heart and keeper of your soul, he gave you control just as much as he could take it away. Wiping away anxiety, he left anticipation. Erasing doubt, he left a blooming confidence.

And with that feeling and darkened gaze, you were racing against the clock, accompanied by the sound of your soles clicking against concrete, accelerating away from the skyscrapers that housed your professional victories and into winding tunnels. You mutely cursed at every delay and every pause in your commute, but nonetheless made it home in record time, astonished by the vista of the setting sun which you normally could not catch in the winter months.

---

The jingling of the keys alerted Seonghwa of your presence, and he set his phone screen down onto the kitchen table, turning to perch himself on the doorframe. He crossed his arms, a ghostly smile on his lips. Aside from going through the regular domestic chores he had planned for himself - a feat in his far from concentrated state, he had decided to be a little more forward with his demands, much to your shared excitement. This, of course, began with his appearance, or rather, a casual exposure of himself in a way you had always encouraged him to do, loving his body so genuinely that it translated into an unparalleled self-appreciation for him. At the same time, that meant that in moments just like this one, he could use your infatuation with his mind and his physique against you. All for a little bit of harmless fun.

He was right, as always. The moment you lifted your head and were about to announce your arrival, a breath hitched in your throat and words died on the tip of your tongue. Hair loose, bangs neatly falling to frame his face, and that damn jacket with a leopard print inner lining, casually thrown over his bare upper body, befitting him so well that you needed to give yourself some time before choking out a quick, feeble ‘I’m home’ and kicking off your heels. He grinned, outwardly innocent, pretending to ‘just be happy to see you, when in fact his imagination was already beginning to forgo every article of clothing you had on. Scanning your form, Seonghwa could not help but bite back a groan. Since the moment you had left this morning, he wanted you back because he wanted you. On the bed, on the table, on the counter, he did not care about the mess. In fact, if there was to be a mess, he would be all the more satisfied. His skin was burning worse than if he were to have a fever, and every moment that passed while you were going through the regular after work motions was pure torture.

As you finished washing your hands, and were about to tiptoe past him, likely to set your bag aside in your home office, he stopped you with one, quiet utterance.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day…”

Your heart was pumping an unsteady, deafening rhythm, and your hands were on the verge of shaking. Nothing was stopping you from simply giving in… except maybe an inkling of rebellion that clung onto you. He already had you in his hold, mouldable to whatever form he wished for, but if he was to play the long game, so were you.

“Mmm… don’t know about that. Missed the memo,” you huffed, wasting a little too much strength on forcing the phrases. Rushing past your husband, you headed to your office and pretended to be taken by both your bag and the miscellaneous stationery left on the desk.

You heard Seonghwa stalking behind you loud and clear, hyperfocused on his catlike steps, but remained rooted to your spot. Taking every item out of your bag, painfully slow, you were rapidly succumbing to the vision of your husband taking you apart. Gorgeous tanned skin, which you knew he was purposefully flaunting to you, intoxicating plush lips which were so vivid in your mind you could almost taste them, and his skillful hands… which just so happened to now be hovering over your waist. You clenched your jaw when they found purchase on your hips, and almost guided you to stand up and be pressed right against him.

Heat was rolling off your stunning lover in waves, and it was downright unbearable to have your back be connected to his toned chest. Seonghwa had no plans of letting you go. He pulled you closer, until you could practically trace his half-hard cock with your ass. He sighed at the contact, air softly passing over your skin, and let his lips trace a broken line upwards to your ear.

“That won’t do at all…” he flexed his arms as his hands roamed your body, “Fortunately, I know exactly how to show you,” you completely blanked, “what a good husband you have.”

As he was about to toy with the buttons at the top of your shirt, the one on your jacket having been long undone, you sprung into action and stopped him, barely suppressing a smirk as you turned your head and spotted a dash of confusion in his glossy eyes.

“I do have a wonderful husband, indeed. Too bad he does not know how to behave properly,” using the moment you slipped out of his embrace, and sauntered towards the door. Seonghwa was left in shock, starved and needy, having been thinking about you, you and only you all day. But his composition returned just as rapidly as it had faltered. You slowed down before reaching the door, as if being pulled back.

Seonghwa was, indeed, magnetic. Lithe, agile, he reminded you of a panther, slinking across the couple of metres that separated you. You were aching to rip off the beige two piece right where he stood, and involuntarily darted your tongue between your lips, much to your husband’s amusement. He was not quite as gentle this time, grabbing a hold of you until you were chest to chest and securing your position by pressing on your lower back. His breath tickled your face; your hands snaked under his jacket, running over exposed skin, worshipping every part you could both see and visualise.

“Really, Hwa. So eager,” you mumbled, brushing your lips over his, testing the waters and seeing a lustful, desperate storm clouding his dilated pupils.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered against your cheek, leaving a tentative peck. You dared to glance at him, poking his nose with your own.

“You’re acting out… disrupting me at work… sending such dirty things to me… calling me to tell me how you want me… is this to be rewarded, my love?” a shudder rolled over Seonghwa’s body, resulting in him planting more feverish kisses over your face, moving towards your jawline and finally across to your ear, nipping it.

“How could I ever behave when I need you, and you are looking like this…” his fingers caressed the collar of your shirt, scalding hot, “and are wearing my favourite perfume…” he inhaled, as though he was drunk off your scent - it was nothing more than what had come to be your signature, a bouquet of notes that defined you, but soon enough turned to being another way in which you occupied Seonghwa’s senses.

Both of you subconsciously moved towards the door, getting impatient. Fingertips mapped the hickeys with violently cautious touches, and Seonghwa swore that if he did not act now, he would go mad. It was ridiculous. You were his life partner, a person to whom he had committed with his entire being, and yet with every passing day his desire for you kept on growing and he was falling deeper and deeper in both love and lust. With you in his arms he was a man lost at sea, blanking out, spiralling and devoted to passion. A big difference between your time dating and your married life, however, was that he did not have to hold back on his own wishes anymore, being as explicit as he was comfortable with, knowing that you would do the same, and no matter what, pleasure would be mutual and adoring. And, he needed it. Seonghwa needed you now. His hand moved on its own accord to cup your face and guide it towards his own. Millimetres apart, he set you ablaze along with him.

“...please…” spilled out, a feeble plea. Seonghwa’s eyes were darting all around you, trying to get some kind of answer, permission, anything. You nodded. And the thread holding you two back snapped.

The kiss was messy, animalistic, far from the calm lover with whom you shared your daily life. Seonghwa did not give you a chance to breathe, instead pushing his lips against yours with the ferocity of a starved man. Unparalleled sweetness graced you as his tongue slipped inside, and he eagerly revisited the movements he found most entrancing, his occasional rough and low growls sending you into a frenzy. Your muted whine spurred him on, and he pushed your entangled forms out of the office, and into the bedroom, the door to which had been left open.

One nip, another, it was as if he wanted to mark you as his everywhere, teeth leaving a pleasant blend of satisfaction and a dull pain to spread from your lips and shoot straight to your core. You began to push off his jacket, a request which he readily accepted, leaving him constrained only by his bottoms. Seonghwa would not give you any false advantages, speedily tugging your jacket off you. His erection was pressing into your thigh, and you could not resist grinding against him, eliciting a delicious groan.

Soon enough, your shirt and bra hastily joined your jacket on the floor, while Seonghwa spared no time in kneading one of your breasts, while feeling the air with the other in an attempt to reach the switch on the floor lamp, growling into the kiss when he missed the first couple of times and hand to open his eyes. You broke away from your husband, resting your palms on his abdomen and admiring just how pretty he looked in the warm, dimmed light that washed over the room in a flash. So it was that kind of night.

“...Want to see you…” he mumbled as he pressed his forehead against yours and locked your lips together once more, guiding you backwards towards the bed. When your legs hit its edge, he hooked his strong arm around you, a quick “careful,” escaping him.

“Let’s get this off, shall we?” gliding a finger on the inner side of the trouser waistband, he waited for you to comply. It did not take much time for you to get rid of the remaining clothes, and be left only with the full awareness of just how wet you really were.

You pressed your legs together, only for Seonghwa to inch his knee and push it in between, forcing them back apart. It was times like this when you realised that he really could read you better than you could read yourself, and any gesture, thought or fantasy, was his as much as your own.

“You’re so beautiful, no need to hide from me,” he scanned over your body, and you felt like you were on fire, melting into him. While your husband’s eyes were glazed over with lust, within them they still held so much love that your heart could burst. “Ah, wait a minute,” you watched as he removed his bottoms, and with a hiss, let his hard and leaking cock spring free. His low chuckle was music to your ears, “now we’re good.”

“Mhm… oh Hwa… I really did make you wait…” you lowered your gaze to his cock, finger tracing a line down his stomach and stopping right before its base. He sucked in a shallow breath, nuzzling his face against yours to hide how close he was to being pushed completely over the edge. Patience was a virtue, and he barely had any left. “Let me take care of you, hm?” you suggested, trying to move to the side to gesture for Seonghwa to sit down on the bed. He remained still, and whispered against your cheek:

“No… I wanted to do that- ah-” your leg brushed against Seonghwa’s sensitive cockhead, pulling a gasp out of him.

“Then I have an idea, if you’re with me on this. Lie down for me?” pulling away, you switched where you were standing, and tilted your chin to gesture at the bed that was now in front of you. Seonghwa peered around his shoulder, and back at you, a soft, tiny smile, albeit a meek one, dancing on his lips.

“Baby you’re doing too-”

“Shush, we can make each other feel good,” promptly following Seonghwa, you were now hovering above him, playing with his necklace.

“I love you,” he said breathlessly, making the side of your mouth curl into a half smile.

“I love you too.”

“Now I’m craving something sweet,” you lightly slapped his chest and shook your head in an attempt to hide your amusement.

“Oh stop it…”

“I think I’ll go crazy if I don't have you sitting on my face in the next few seconds.”

“Can’t have that happening.”

You adjusted positions, and once you had your back facing Seonghwa, he pulled your hips towards him to lower your pussy over his face. Carefully, you leaned forward, relishing in the sight of your husband’s impossibly stunning body, every muscle a work of art. After finding a comfortable balance, and waiting for the initial shock of Seonghwa tasting you to turn into a continuous thrum of pleasure, you spat into your palm, and wrapped the hand around his cock. His thighs tensed in response and his grasp became tighter as he rolled his tongue over your clit.

Mirroring him, you teased his cockhead, and only then proceeded to take his length into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and moving slowly to ensure that he would not reflexively buck into you. You flattened your tongue, dragging it along the shaft and spreading spit and precum. You took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. With hollowed cheeks you began to bob your head at a leisurely pace and not caring for the mess you were making at the base of his cock, clear liquid running down past the corners of your swollen lips.

Seonghwa produced a muffled noise, unable to stay completely focused while you were driving him towards his high, but not breaking contact. He sucked on your clit, making you whine while deepthroating him. Your eyes were starting to water as you wanted more, always more, and you reached to fondle his balls, pausing to get some air. Strings of saliva and precum momentarily connected you still, and the lewdness of the scene was downright pornographic. You were relentless, addicted to this man whom you had the exclusive ability to call your husband. You were the one who knew how to take him apart and put him back together.

The wanton sounds of Seonghwa devouring your pussy stimulated you further, and the coil which had been growing tighter with every pass of his skillful tongue was ready to snap and release. A hint of a trembling sensation passed through your legs, and you sped up your own motions, your hand jerking off the base while you swirled over his tip in preparation to take him fully again.

Seonghwa dipping his tongue between, in and out, and through your wet folds had you seeing stars, and you grinded against him. He gripped you tighter so that you would not be able to instinctively squirm and lift yourself upwards, and circled around your aroused clit, sucking it in between his lips and returning to fucking you with his tongue. His vision was clouded, he was in a daze, unable to process anything anymore, except the static fuzziness in his brain and how delicious you were.

He used up what little attention he had left on your clit, and repeated ministrations had you tipping over the edge and shuddering in his hold. Seonghwa remained buried between your legs as your climax hit you, and held you to prevent your hips from leaving him, and continued to lap at your sopping heat, catching your release. You moaned against his cock, freezing in place and letting your husband chase his high by bucking his hips upwards and using you. In no time, he was painting your mouth and your throat with thick strings of white, falling back onto the bed while you followed to try and swallow as much of his release as you could. Cum and spit was dribbling down your chin and his shaft when you were finished, and once you, with Seonghwa’s help, were laying on your side and face to face with him the unmistakable glistening fluid on his face made you love him all the more. One kiss, another, you tasted yourselves on each other’s lips, choosing to make your lungs scream rather than let go.

He was so beautiful. His loving, electric gaze - a permanent feature of his expression when it came to you. Everything about him was a reason to adore him. You brushed away a strand of hair, one which had stubbornly stuck to his forehead, only for Seonghwa to take your hand in his and plant a soft kiss on its back. You giggled, enjoying the contrast of this intimate, but lighthearted moment as opposed to the passionate exchange earlier. This was how he was, and you would not want him any different.

You took your time regarding him, and he did the same to you. Blissful, overflowing with a want for more. His lips were on yours again, and you deepened the kiss by bunching his long inky hair in your hand. Every reaction, every gasp was your favourite music. Seonghwa rolled over and positioned himself between your legs, arms on either side. Hair perfectly framed his elegant features, and the shadows cast shapes akin to a painting you would see at a gallery. He was a masterpiece.

“Lift your hips for me,” you followed his request, wriggling into position while he lifted himself up to take your legs and bend them towards your torso, “thank you, my love… such a pretty pussy, all mine,” the dirty talk came naturally to him, and it was not your first time hearing it, but nonetheless had you biting the inside of your cheek.

Still sensitive, you whispered his name when he glided his hardened cock between your wet folds. Coated in slick and cream, Seonghwa met no resistance and bottomed out in one stroke. Your loud moan prompted words of praise and adoration, and he was certain that nothing could ever be better than this.

“Ah- just perfect-” you watched his face contort , eyes threatening to roll back as he started to thrust into you.

You could barely form words, sinking into the pillows and peeking at Seonghwa through half-lidded eyes - the most you could muster. All your senses were filled with him, and you swore you were going to fall apart at any moment. Grateful for his arms supporting your legs, you physically couldn’t resist the drowning pleasure, instead trying your best to keep up with his cock drilling into you, failing whenever it brushed over your sweet spot.

“H-hwa-”

“Mm?”

“Kiss me,” you pleaded, making him push your legs further apart and crawl a little ways over you until his orbs, near black in the dimly lit room, were boring into you.

You intertwined, overlapped, transposed into something greater than yourselves. Sharing the same air, you panted in time with your lover and captured his lips with yours over, and over again. His body was so close to yours, that you could feel his necklace brushing over your chest, occasionally touching your neck. Seonghwa filled you to the hilt, the slight stretch turning your moans into barely audible mewls.

“Please- h-harder- I l-love your cock so mu-uch-”

Seonghwa cursed under his breath, drunk from your choice of words, and with one final kiss curled over you and quickened the rocking of his hips to a brutal euphoria. You were on the verge of melting, bodies turning agonisingly hot with each passing second. Your hands searched for his wrists, weakly wrapping around them for some form of support. Carnal; you were infinitely turned on by how instinctive his reactions were. You could not care for anything in the world, words turning to a garbled mess and moans loudly echoing in your husband’s ears.

“F-fuck, you feel so good I’m-” he was fisting the bedsheets, ruthlessly pounding into you, the slapping of skin against skin and your sounds making him fall apart.

His pace faltered as he came, legs shuddering, voice breaking as he unleashed an airy and high-pitched moan, but he still continued to thrust while he filled you with his warm load. He pushed his release deeper inside you, breathing heavily and pressing you more and more into the bedsheets. The squelching was downright filthy, but you wanted to capture every drop and threw your arms around Seonghwa as much as you could given your position, simply so he could be flush against you. He hissed through gritted teeth as your walls began to clench around his aching length, prompting aftershocks from his orgasm.

“Hwa-a, I’m coming, I- don’t stop please-”

“Come for me, love,” his gentleness, even in such a feverish moment, was your undoing. The thread you had been clinging onto snapped.

Your head fell back against the pillows, and if it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s form securing you from above, you knew you would be arching off the bed, uncontrollable. You called out his name like a mantra, and in your ecstatic haze could sense him slowing down, helping both of you ride out your intense climaxes. Vision spinning, you did not dare move, instead transforming into a pliable doll for Seonghwa to rearrange. Shakily, he let go of the bed sheets and sat upright, tapping your legs to relax. Lazily, you stretched out, heart still racing, and barely registered the dip of the mattress next to you.

When you turned, your husband was there, head resting on his hand, propped up by his elbow. He was studying you with a small smile, and when he noticed you were more present, leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hello,” it was almost unbelievable, just how honey sweet he could be in a matter of seconds, making you more shy than during sex. This made you all too aware and critical of your current state, and you turned your head to search for something to cover yourself with, until you heard a sigh escape your husband, “It’s like I’m dreaming. You’re so enchanting.”

He fell fully by your side, draping an arm over your upper body and gingerly massaging your hip. It was rare for him to not rush to clean both of you off, but you were not complaining about this kind of moment of closeness. It felt raw. It felt real. You got to fall in love for the nth time. Seonghwa’s face was rosy, blushed, and he was just barely steadying himself, but even then, was not letting go of you, choosing to retain all physical proximity in favour of going about routines. HIs cum is smeared over your folds, was dripping onto the covers and had smeared across your inner thighs, you had remnants of spit and release on your face, and yet he was still looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. His one and only.

“Not too sore? Shall I run a bath?” He poked your nose with his own, grinning when you ran a hand over the side of his face.

“Mm… I’m fine. But a bath would be nice. Can we…”

“Want me to join?”

“Mhm. Want you to give me a head massage.”

“Ah, of course, at your service-”

“Come on…” you chuckled at his joke and trailed off, pausing to stare deep into his eyes, musing everything and nothing all at once.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking how you should send me pictures more often,” a hint of darkness flashed in his eyes; mischief, future schemes formulating themselves. You traced past love bites, ran a finger over his plump lips which were equally as red and swollen as yours, you bet.

“Mm, you changed your mind I see. None of that ‘I am at work’ anymore, then?”

“Maybe you should be the one who is worried now,” you shot back with a smirk.

Seonghwa sat up, swinging his legs over to the edge of the bed, but turning back to give you one last adoring look before launching into a routine long-familiar to you. In no time, you would be taking careful sips of water while waiting for the bath to fill, and your husband would be telling you to stay put, having returned from the clouds and back to finding it unbearable to have clothes on the floor and creasing. Your heart swelled. He was everything at once, flipping switches, changing from one second to the next while still being his gorgeous self. Before, it had made you confused, flustered. Now, you just loved him. There was no other way to put it. You got to see every curve and edge, and always discovered something new.

“I’ll be impatiently waiting.”

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