#because they just. all of their body sees. all of their body has all of their senses all the time
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(18+) quick lil 3am headcanon: i think sevika gets off on intimacy. no matter how many hookups she has and how good they are, if she doesnât feel some sort of connection she wonât cum. at least not very hard.
but this would mean that as soon as she meets you sheâs horny all the time. you could be still in the talking stage, texting sevika late at night just to get to know her more, and behind the screen sheâd have to shove a hand down her pants to relieve some of the tension building up in her core.
or sheâd invite you over for a date at her place, ordering some takeout and allowing you to choose a movie, and sheâd be squirming and rubbing her thighs together with the way youâre info dumping about your favorite film. it takes every ounce of self control in her to not pin you to the couch and use your body to get herself off.
and once you do start dating, she gives up on self control and completely submits herself to you. youâre giving her a back massage because she mentioned that it hurt? donât think too hard about the way sheâs whimpering. itâs midnight and youâre both still awake and giggling about some stupid silly youtube video? sheâs soaked. she sees you in her clothes after a shower, hair wet with you looking all soft and fresh and domestic? creaming. hardcore.
itâs not that she doesnât love your body, or the effortless way you get her off, but that added feeling of love washing over her pushes her to the finish line about ten times faster than usual.
#me when i have long fics and requests collecting dust and i still post stupid meaningless 3am thoughts đ¤Ś#but⌠lil cutie pie sevika just wanted to make an appearance#she needs some love đ¤#sevika#sevika x reader#sevika arcane#arcane sevika#arcane#arcane netflix#sevika fluff#sevika smut#arcane league of legends
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ANACHRONISM ft. Mina
mina x male reader smut
part one of strange currencies
14k words
Go ahead, try and pretend like any of this happened by accident.
Like you totally didnât mean to charm some poor, pretty little thing; dazzle her with the wealth, the fame, the you of it all.
Have her spreading her legs for you, bunching her dress up over her thighs, serving herself up like sheâs one of those ludicrously expensive banquets you frequent, pleadingâ
"God, I need you inside me, like, right this fucking second."
Because hereâs the truth of it all, what youâve come to realise about this woman who has never once in her entire life been reduced to something as pithy as poor or pretty or little; let alone anything short of extraordinary. This wildly successful, elegant to the point of being untouchable, and just really, really fucking gorgeous idol:
Nothing about Myoui Mina is accidental.
Even all thisâher idea: showing up at your suite uninvited, leaning against the doorframe, panties hanging off her fingertips. Showing off how ridiculously drenched she is for you and how badly she wants you to do something about it.
If only these walls could talk.
âHurry up,â sheâs gritting out. Deadlocking the door behind her. Still not used to waiting for anything, apparently. âCome on, I need your cum. Anywhere you like. Just inside me. Now.â
You should be more surprised. Instead, youâre laughing. âPatience, darling.â
A step forward, pants hitting the floor, cock in hand. Running the tip of it across her folds, making it shiny with her slick, forcing this sigh from her lips.
You pause, just to make her whine. To make her give you what you really want to hear.
Mina bites her lip.
Squeezes her eyes shut.
She knows the deal.
"Please."
That word, that crack in the composure, the control that Mina is so used to maintaining everywhere else but here. Itâs the thrill of it allâthe challenge in the attempt. Taking someone like Mina, all perfect posture, sparkling teeth, effortless grace; and bringing her to her knees.
Figuratively speaking, mostly.
Only, her phone lights up.
You look down and see it, left abandoned on the floor somewhere in Minaâs rush to get to you. But now its glow is stark against the dark parquet, beaming with messages by the dozen. All different variations on the same question: where the fuck is she?
Her eyes flicker to the screen, then back up to yours. There's a silent conversation happening thereâdesire fighting with duty, lust with loyalty.
You make it easy for her.
A push is all it takes, really. Cunt yielding to your will, cock sliding into that ridiculous tightness.
She freezes.
Braces herself.
Whimpers.
âPriorities, Mina,â you grunt through it, breaching in deeper; assaulted by the heat of her cunt around you, choking each inch. âRemember, you asked for this.â
The phone keeps buzzing, panicked vibrations at your feet. Urgent messages becoming calls, flashing faces across the screen. You can see them one-by-one, see Minaâs reaction as they pop upâsighing when she sees her managers name, eyes widening when a rather flirty photo of Chaeyoung comes next, and then her entire body tensing, tightening around you at the next picture:
Her and her boyfriend, arms thrown around each other, both looking all beautiful and famous and so very much in love. The perfect couple; so picturesque it might as well have come right off a billboard.
âGod, fuck,â Mina groans out, panting, breathless. âYouâd think theyâdâahâjust leave me alone for oneâsingleânightââ
âShould we snap some photos? Add them all to a group chat, send them through? Let them see the look on your face and figure it out from there.âÂ
Mischief flashes across her eyes, mouth open to answer back with something that is no doubt clever and suggestive and designed to get you both into far more trouble than youâre already inâbut she doesnât get a word of it out.
Youâre slamming into her.
Mina nearly comes apart then and there; eyes snapping shut, neck arching, back banging against the hard, unforgiving wood of the door behind her. Her lips round into this perfect âOâ of surprise, and this sweet, sweet needy whine comes slipping out from her throat.
And just like that, sheâs all yours again.Â
Itâs not like the phone goes silentâit just stops mattering.
âAsshole,â sheâs sayingâgrinning now, doing that Mina thing where she says one thing but means another, expecting you to read the underneath. Which this time isâtouch me, pull me close, pin me and keep me fucking trapped while you fuck the air right out of my lungs.
âNow thereâs an idea.â Youâre kissing her, tongue past her lips, tasting the rush of the forbidden, the lines sheâs crossing just so she can have you filling up her cunt.
And thereâs all this noiseâthe sound of your cock thrusting into her, skin against skin, shaft into wetness; the buzzing of the phone, her cries of your name dying in your mouth.
Oh, you know itâs going to be brutal if anyone was to overhear, if youâre caught and all this gets out. The narratives that will be crafted, the clichĂŠ of it all, the sizzling hot headlines that will undoubtedly paint her, as they are wont to do, in a million different unfair ways.
Seductress. Gold-digger. Slut.
But even as youâre fucking her deep, lips marking up her skin, digging your fingers into the meat of her ass and making Mina cum so hard that all she can say isâ âplease, please, please,â
âyou know the facts, no matter whoâs begging who under the shine of the outrageously garish chandelier hanging overhead:
You're the one that chased her first.
â
(Itâs incredibly fitting that this whole thing started with a celebration.)
â
Taking a step back, to months earlier, at a gala:
Where itâs becoming apparent to you, and seemingly, just you, that Minaâs the only one here that doesnât look entirely out of place.
Or at least, sheâs the only one that seems to fit amongst the grandeur; the imposing pillars and archways, the ornate cornices, the glint of gold and jade beneath the soft glow of paper lanterns, and the shadow of the palace itself, cast over the sprawling garden like a looming guardian.
The anachronism of it all is the concept, or so youâve been told. The new, the futureâyour companyâagainst the backdrop of the old, the traditional. A fusion event, meant to celebrate and honour the past right before yanking it to the future; and yet it all somehow feels soâŚ
Boring.
The same faces, the same games; sharks in a sea of corporate sabotage and political machinations. Theyâll smile for you, sing your praises to the highest heavens, do everything they can to make you remember their nameâright up until the moment you show your back.
All this to say, itâs going to be very hard to last four hours without wanting to punch someone in the face just to make things slightly more interesting.
(Oh come, one and all. Throw yourselves at the feet of Koreaâs youngest self-made billionaire, and hope that by some stroke of luck or misplaced charm, you might just catch a crumb from his table.
Thatâs what this whole exhausting circus feels like to you.)
So, when youâre about done with what seems like the hundredth round of fake laughs and vacuous pleasantries with yet another politician whoâs trying to sell you on the importance of family, and coincidentally, his very marriageable daughter, you make your escape.
Something about needing a drink.
Ease out of the circle, let the noise of the gala swallow you up like you were never there, and navigate across the garden to the bar.
Where you find her.
Mina, something of an anachronism herself; looking more at home amongst the pagodas and the cherry blossoms than in the company of suits and ties and plastic smiles. Like sheâs been painted onto the scene; rendered in living colourâstark white, midnight black, blue silk. Or cobalt. Maybe azure.
Youâll have to reserve some time later to ask her about the colour of her dress. Â
Whatâs important is that sheâs alone, which seems like a crime in and of itself, on account of, well, how fucking breathtaking she is. Add that sheâs here at all, and it all amounts to some kind of serendipitous miracle.
(An idol, a celebrity, willingly spending her free time in the company of the elitist dregs of society? The world's gone mad.)
You donât really need an excuse to join her; you know her, technically. Not intimately, but in that same way that everyone in this high society tapestry is threaded together. An award show here, a charity function thereâthe kind of acquaintance that lets you say hello without raising eyebrows, but not much more.
All this to say it makes some sense to slide yourself onto the barstool to her right, ignoring that the rest are completely unoccupied.
The smile that Mina gives you as you approach is a little sharper than it needs to be, a little too knowing.
âYouâre not going to ask if this seatâs taken?â
You return the smile, a mirror image of hers, and lean onto the bar. You donât even need to look at the bartender; your drink is in your hand, cold and crisp, the second you set it down. âI thought Iâd risk it.â
âNeat trick,â Mina says, posting her chin on one hand, watching the sleek liquid slide down your throat. Sheâs got a flute of champagne in front of her, untouched.
Thereâs a gravity to her, youâre realising only when youâre this close. Something in the way the moonlight's kissing her skin, a blend of porcelain and peaches, glowing. Maybe thatâs why sheâs been left alone; the other guests were smart enough not to get swallowed up in it all. Better to appreciate at a distance than to drown in it.
She regards you for a beat, runs a finger around the rim of her glass. "Shouldn't you be off being the centre of attention somewhere? Shaking hands, kissing babies, that whole bag?â
âNah," youâre dismissive, looking back out to the crowd milling about, lost in their own conversations and power plays. "This whole thing's more for them than it is for me."
Mina scoffs. Raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. You follow her eyesâacross the banners, the placards, the giant projection cast onto the palace itself.
A brushstroke circleâthe logo you designedâswirling around, stamping itself on what was once a symbol of absolute power, now reduced to just another stage for the rich and the elite and all their insignificant little games.
You feel the need to clarify. âFor the company.â
Mina ripostes. âThat just so happens to be named after you.â
âJust one of those funny coincidences.â
âApparently so.â
It does occur to you that it should be somewhat startling how instantly familiar you feel around Mina. Slipping into casual conversationâlight jabs, coded compliments; all soaked in insinuation. Just enough edge and implication to keep you on your toes.
There's an ease to her, to how she smiles, how she laughs, how she just sits there, all drop-dead gorgeous and oh, this? Nothing special, just how I always am.
So itâs only natural that somewhere in all this easy banter, between your third drink and her second, her hand lands on your forearm, your knee brushes against hers and you both decide to stop being so subtle.
You pick your moment, as sheâs thumbing through a menu of drinks sheâs already deciding she doesnât want, to try to solve the mystery of her. Past the red of her lips, the edge of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Along the neckline of her dress, where the silk clings like itâs afraid of letting go, and down to where it dips and angles out; the open shoulder, the collarbone, the swell underneath.
Itâs the sum of it all, youâre realising. The dress, the look, the woman.
(Accentuate without revealing. Tease without giving away the prize. Show off that flawless ass and dare the world not to look. And yeah, they fucking look. They all do.
Youâre just the only one that doesnât look away when you're caught.)
But now, you could reach out and touch her; unlatch the straps of her heels, run your fingers from her ankle up, up over the smooth expanse of her calf, her knee, the bare skin of her thigh right where her dress decides to daringly split, and underneath, until your hand is filled with the heat of her and all she knows is you.
You could complete her. Or she, you, you think.
Only, thereâs a slight misstep in an otherwise immaculate ensemble.
A necklace.
A ridiculous, ugly, tacky thing. Hanging off her like a misplaced jewel on a swan; more âcostume partyâ than ârefined modern galaâ. Fighting the simplicity of her gown, offensively jarring, especially against the serenity of the moonlit garden.
Mina notices you staring. âA gift.â
âBoyfriend,â you realise, doing the math in your head. A careless present, given by someone who doesnât know (or doesnât care to know) her. Hoping the flash, the dollars spent overshadows the unfamiliarity.
(It doesnât.)
âPartner,â Mina confirms. Thereâs a slight dip at the corner of her mouth, a blink-and-youâll-miss-it flash of something unpleasant. It disappears as soon as it comes, but you caught it. âA little too old to have a boyfriend.â
âHm.â You click your tongue. Narrow your eyes. Youâve been told that it makes you appear disarming. âAnd where is this partner?â
Minaâs smile returns. She takes her first sip of champagne. âYou tell me. Donât you sign off on all the invites?â
âJust the important ones.â
âEven so, not like he would have come if he was invited.â Mina leaves you to fill in the gaps. âA tad too public. For the both of us, really.â
âI see.â
And you do. Youâve seen your fair share of these types of arrangements, participated in a few, even. At the beginning, the secret of it all, the cloak and dagger; itâs exhilarating. But that only lasts so long. Eventually, like all things, it fades. Leaving you with someone who you donât really see, who you donât even know, and the sinking realisation that maybe the thrill was the only thing that kept it interesting.Â
âSo,â you lean forward, drawing your conclusion. âYouâre here. All alone. Stuck in a relationship with someone dumb enough to let you go out looking like that.â
âCareful.â
âItâs just,â you offer, your gaze lingering on her throat, âYou donât strike me as the type to settle for anything less than you deserve, Mina.â
That makes Mina pause. Almost flinch. Imperceptibly if you werenât looking so closely at her lips. The sound of her name rolling off your tongue, like it's always been there, waiting to escapeâit has her reeling.
And yet, somehow, she recovers.
âBecause you know me so well.â
So, you switch up, throw a curveball. âIs it the sex?â
To her credit, Mina barely reacts to that provocation, as if she was expecting the follow up. Just takes another sip of her champagne with a grace that seems rehearsed. Youâll have to try harder.
She shrugs a bare shoulder.
"Sex is just sex. Itâs not everything."
âSo, no sex at all, then.â
Minaâs smile is like a knifeâs edge. âAre you always this forward?â
âAll Iâm saying,â you keep going, somewhat emboldened by the game, by the warmth of the whiskey poisoning your kidneys. âIf it was meââ
Minaâs hand slides up your forearm, ending somewhere around your triceps. Youâre close. Close enough to inhale her perfume; cinnamon, smoke, darker than anticipated. Youâd fill your lungs with it, if you could. âIf it was you.â
You take another drink. She watches.
And it clicks into place. What this really is. What sheâs really doing here.
The slight tilt of her shoulder, a slip of her dressâjust a fraction. A shift in her seat and suddenly, the silk has risen, too high, and thereâs a stretch of skin leading up to a flash of lace thatâs more moonlit than the night itself.
The suspicion sets in. Was she waiting for you?
Mina laughs.
You ask, âWhatâs so funny?â
âI was just thinking,â Mina says, lowly. Grinning, like sheâs reading your mind. âHow even youâre the same.â
âHow so?â
âAll you men. How you see me, how youâre looking at me right now.â She reaches up to her neck, taps the clunky stone hovering over her throat. Once. Twice. âMaking it about you. You think I need saving.â
You open your mouth. Close it. Open once more to protestâ
âThatâs what you think.â Mina interrupts, smirks; and your eyes are on her lips, wondering if anyone would be able to pull you off them if you were so lucky enough to taste them. âWhat you want is to own me.â
âMina,â you regard her, openly. Honestly. âI could never dream of owning you.â
She nods back towards your logo, emblazoned across the castle walls. âBecause youâre clearly not the type of person that likes owning things.â
And thereâs a realisation here, as sheâs staring into your eyesâa real, actual, bone-deep revelationâthat she's been doing the same thing as you this whole time. Reading you, until she's seeing through you.
The silence stretches, thick and sweet , and itâs obvious to see where this is heading. The idea thatâs being sparkedâlean in, kiss her right here, right now, with all these eyes on you. Kiss that smirk right off her face, steal whatever clever rebuttals sheâs composing from her lips, the flirtations that sheâs left hanging in the air. Replace them all with your name.
But itâs all hypothetical, for now.
âYouâre not even thinking past right now, are you?â Mina asks, amused. "The rumours you've started just by sitting next to me."
"Rumours."
"The kind that ruins careers. That never leave. That would make him want to kill you if he found out."
Another sip, letting it burn down your throat. Think about it. Attack it from every angleâ
(Doesnât it just make sense; the billionaire, and his beautiful celebrity partner? Or even if there was a scandal, just a one-night fling; wouldnât it be worth it?
You could both live off the thrill alone, itâd reignite whatever embers her boyfriend hasnât stomped out yet.)
âMaybe I want the rumours.â
Minaâs eyes widen. Itâs the first time sheâs dropped her guard.
âIf you were mine,â you start, and stop immediately, reining in that last word on the tip of your tongue. âIf you were my girlfriend, partner, whatever label you want to put on it. Iâd tell the whole damn world. Broadcast it on every channel. Make sure everyone knows exactly who Iâm fucking every single morning, afternoon, night.â
Youâre hitting the mark of something, you can tell, because Minaâs hand tightens around your arm, and she doesn't seem to mind when yours lands on her thigh. A flash; the thought of spreading them, of seeing her laid bare underneath you. Or flipped over in front of you, crumpling that dress around her waist, so you can take proper purchase of that ass thatâs been hinted at all night long.
And all of a sudden, she doesn't seem to be as spoken for as she might have led you to believe.
She bites her lip. Keeps it there for a second, two, before letting it go.
âSo, this is what you usually say to all the pretty girls you invite to these parties?â
The alcoholâs loosened your tongue enough to state truths youâre supposed to keep to yourself. âI usually donât have to say anything at all.â
Mina challenges. âMust be nice, being this rich, cute, and charming.â
âThe being rich part does a lot of the hard work.â
âSo, the cuteness and the charm?â
âIâll let you decide,â you finish, watching her smile spread, the corners of her eyes crinkle. It makes your chest tighten.
âI suppose, in your perfect world,â Mina surmises, and now sheâs so close that your knee is splitting the difference between her thighs, and youâre already planning the logistics of it allâthe where, the howâ âthis ends with you fucking my brains out behind one of these old houses.â
âIâve got a few in mind.â
âI bet.â Mina takes one last pull of her drink, empties it, and sets it back down. âAnd afterwards? After youâve made me forget my own name and made the entirety of my existence revolve around your cockâwhatâs your plan then? Who are weâwho are you going to be?"
You finish off your own glass, setting it down with the same deliberate clink as hers. âYou know, the funny thing about money is," you say, sliding your fingers up her thigh, higher, higher. "It can make you whoever you want to be. So, the real question isâwho do you want me to be?"
Youâre holding your breath as she answers: âNot some knight in shining armour. I donât need a saviour. If thatâs what youâre thinking.â
âThen what do you need?â
Mina inches, gets close, and now her breathâs a tickle on the shell of your ear. She bites. âJust someone to help me scratch an itch.â
Thereâs a moment, somewhere before Mina threads her fingers through yours, lets you lead her through the throngs of guests and into the shadows of the palace; where all of thisâthis want, this need, boils over. Where Mina kisses your cheek and warns:
âYou donât have the time for me.â
Now itâs your turn to grin; reaching up to her throat, slipping that necklace off her, leaving it to clatter onto the granite below never to be spoken of again.
âMaybe. But I can make every second count.â
â
This is how you end up:
Pinning Mina to some ancient wall; the moonâs spotlight spilling over the contours of her body, a hand tangled in her hair, the other pushing her dress higher up her thighs.
You werenât lying, you did have a place in mind. Namely, by the west gate, where a house that used to be the servantâs quarters stood. Itâs a part of the palace thatâs been neglected in the reconstruction, and thus, ironically, the most authentic part of this whole sham.
A true hideaway for those not to be seen or heard; a building thatâs seen centuries of service, of lives lived in the shadow of royalty, and now itâs going to bear witness to this, to you and Mina, undoing each other with every passing second.
Something a little sacred, a whole lot profane.
Sheâs smiling against your lips; a smirk, more likely. Because sheâs new to this kind of thingâthe almost romantic picture the two of you are paintingâchaste kisses stolen in quiet corners of royal residences. The kind of thing that could fuel a dozen dramas.
But you both know better.
So, you let her start things off, let her set the pace for this evening's affairs. And Mina, to her credit, is gracious enough to tell you exactly what she wants.
(Kiss me harder, touch me here, please, please, don't let go.)
Twisting the lapels of your jacket in her hand, desperately pulling you closer, even though there's no more room left. Kissing you with longing. Making you believe that she's missed thisâmissed youâdespite the fact that you've only just officially met. And sure, it's a lie, but it's a lie that feels so good, so right, that youâre willing to indulge her.
Indulge yourself.
Your lips veer off the corner of her mouth, ignoring the tongue and teeth that try to keep you there, the hand that kindly urges you to not stop kissing her.
Because youâve got a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down the seconds before someone calls you or her away, or more problematically, catches you and her, a heap of limbs and lust and fucking in the dusty archives of history.
You break away, keep things moving, kiss your way along her neck, feel her heartbeat drum against your lips. Follow her neckline down, down; find this sweet little spot, a darkened freckle right on top of her collarbone that makes her sigh.
âTell me something, honestly.â Mina finds her voice the same time your fingers meet the promised lace of her underwear, turning her words into these breathless moans. âHow often do you do this?â
You tug the fabric pooling at her waistâonce, firmlyâand Minaâs dress slips from her shoulders, whispering down her arms and leaving her in nothing but flawless white and a strapless bra that matches the silk in hue.Â
You smile, look up. âThis?â
Mina clarifies, "Whisk some innocent girl away into a deserted corner andâ"
Sheâs cut off by the click-clack of her bra releasing behind her back, your fingers slipping beneath the cotton, and youâre filling your hand with the swell of her breast; so soft, so perfect.
The sound when you touch her and she gasps; if only you could capture, keep it forever. Youâll just have to make sure she keeps making itâkneading gently, rolling the pebbled peak of her nipple between your thumb and forefinger, feeling it bead and tighten.
Your lips to her shoulder, you ask, âAnd what?â
Mina sighs, âfuck her completely, thoroughly senseless,â and you swear thereâs something revelatory about how she says itâsinful ideas from saintly lips.
"Honestly?" You pause, your gaze lingering on the goosebumps rising across her skin. "You're the first."
Her laughter's a surprise; it's light, disbelieving. "First?"
"First tonight."
Mina's smile widens, her grip on your jacket tightens. "You're so full of shit," she says, but there's no malice in it. Just the thrill of the hunt. Or, being hunted.
You donât bother to argue the point; let her think what she wants. Instead, you lean into it (into her), let your other hand snake around her thigh, over the elastic of her panties and lower, until youâre palming the curve of her ass.
Firm, taut, flawlessâbecause of course it is; exactly like the rest of her. Sheâs so hot under your touch; the softness, the smoothness of it. And you knowâwithout a doubtâyouâre going to worship this ass.
A squeeze for good measureâbalancing the fine line of respect and greed. Mina yelpsâsurprise, pleasure.
âGod,â Mina shudders, does her best under the assault of your lips on her neck, fingers pinching, tugging, hand squeezing. "You'reâoh, you're not so bad at this."
You press a kiss to her throat. âFlattery gets you everywhere, Miss Myoui.â
âPlease, not with the government names,â Mina hisses, her cheeks flushing a soft pink that matches the glow of the lanterns outside.
âApologies.â You chuckle, slipping your hand underneath the band of her panties, and aroundâdownâpressing against her and sinking lower until youâve got a proper hold of her. Soaking wet and dripping heat onto your fingertips.
A cry from her lips. A shiver. A buck of her hips.
Her hands shoot to your chest.
âPlease, kiss me again.â
You obligeâhow could you not, with the way sheâs begging?
Her nails dig into your shirt, her breath hitches as you push your fingerâyour indexâpast her entrance and inside, and just before she can moan your name into the night air, youâre filling her mouth with your tongue, licking inside.
You kiss her like itâs your first kiss, like itâs your last. Like the only way to calm her down is with your mouth and your tongue and your teeth. Sheâs so wet and tight and pulsing around you, sheâs trying to suck you in; and fuck, when youâre knuckle-deep she bites down on your lip so hard she nearly draws blood.
The moans that she's filling your mouth with; this symphony of want sends a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire straight to your cock. You're strainingâagainst your trousers, against her thigh, straining against the urge to rip that dress off her and leave her bare, but you're not there yet.
It's about her, about needing her, making her beg for it. Making her so desperate that she'll do just about anything to get you inside her.
(Because thereâs something about her, about Mina, that just makes you want to take your time. To learn the ins and outs of what makes her tick. The secret spots that make her moan into your mouth, the places to touch that make her shiver, the sighs and sounds that only you can coax out of her.
Itâs etched into every line of her body; every curve and sharp edgeâjust pure heat from head to toe; And thereâs a beauty so absolute in her perfection, the dash of makeup, the careful draping of her hair, itâs too good not to ruin. To not want to leave your mark on her in some way so that everyone knows she was once yours, if only for a night.)
âYouâre just so needy, Mina.â You hum into her jaw, when your lips slip from hers and you struggle to resist the urge to leave these marks on her. Her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Every part of her that sheâs offered to you, every part youâre eager to claim. âLike itâs been ages since someoneâs touched you like this.â
âI donâtâpleaseââ is all Mina can manage, because the pad of your thumb is ghosting over her clit, pressing in and circling, and the way her pitch rises and she sighs your name gives you your answer:
Itâs been a while.
âI donât thinkâgahââ She tries agin, but you torture her with another finger, stretching inside her, sinking in and curling upwards. âI donât think Iâve ever been touched like this.â
âGood,â you tell her, and she shivers when your voice rumbles through her, when you drop down and your lips go low again, and you take one of her stiff peaks between your teeth. âI donât settle for second place.â
âNeither doâGodâIââ Mina braces herself against the wall behind her, failing to find anything but cold brick to hold onto as you map out the rest of her with your hands and your fingers and your lips.
Sheâs so, so hot for you; you wouldâve never predicted it, not in your wildest estimations. Never thought just how easy it would be to undo someone so poised and put-together like Mina, to render her into this puddle of need.
âSo why donât you show me then,â Mina breathes, voice trembling as much as she is. You suck deep, swirl your tongue, make her arch her back to push more of herself into you. âWhat all theâoh myâwhat all the fuss is about."
âAs you wish, darling.â
And thereâs part of you thatâs recognising the awfulness of what youâre doing, taking somethingâsomeoneâthatâs not yours, and having her tell you all these things, finger fucking these words of oblivion from her lips, touch me, please I need it, kiss me harder, more, more, make me feel it, make me feel you.
But even that part of you is so, so small right now, buried deep down with everything that isnât Mina, with everything that isnât her pussy clenching around your hand, or the taste of tits on your tongue.
Ignore all thoughts of the after, of what happens when youâve made her cum again and again, and youâve wrecked yourself in the pursuit of it all. What happens when you return to the throngs of nobodies, all rumpled and flushed and red, and the whispers start flying, and the glances are no longer just knowing but shamelessly envious.
Thatâs a problem for future you.
Right now, youâve nearly stripped her entirely, pressed up against a wall thatâs seen more than its fair share of secrets, and your twoânow threeâfingers are ruining her in a way that has her dancing on that borderline.
âIâm close, so close,â Mina cries, but you already know.
Because youâre already giving it to her; everything she wants and then some. Touching her, fucking her with your fingers, pushing her higher, watching her unravel.
Making her whine against your skin, making her eyes squeeze shut like sheâs afraid of whatâs happening, afraid of how much she wants this.
âWeâre only just getting started, Mina.â
You let her nipple pop out from your mouth, leaving it to bob in the cool night air, sensitive and dying to be back between your teeth. Hand shifts from her hip, sliding up to cradle her jaw, to tip her face backâforce those deep, dark eyes to open so you can really look at her.
Panting, pupils blown wide, and the sight of her so undone sends another wave of heat straight to your cock.
âLook at me.â It comes out harsher, more of a firm command than intended. It does its job. âYou're going to cum now.â
She nods, frantically, eyes locked on yours as your thumb traces over her bottom lip, feeling it plump and swollen from your kisses. Her tongue darts out, swipes over the pad, tasting herself and you; and youâre thinking about filling that mouth of hers, or maybe that cunt, or if sheâs game, that tight, untouched little asshole.
But one thing at a time.
âIâm going to eat your pussy,â youâre saying everything youâve dreamt of saying to her since you first saw her, first caught sight of that ass daring to wander past your line of sight; and suddenly, every raw, filthy thought youâve had of her is coming to the surface. âThen Iâm going to fuck you. Again and again. Your cunt, your mouth. That ass. Iâm going to take it all. And youâre going to let me, arenât you, darling?â
Mina breathes, nods, signing a verbal contract to let you do whatever the fuck you want with her, promising you all of her, every part of her youâve so shamelessly craved.
âGood.â  Â
And so, you drop to your knees.
You glance up at her. She looks down at you.
Like sheâs been burning for this; like sheâll combust if you make her wait a second longer.
Pushing her dress up until it's around her waist, keeping it up with your hands on her thighs, spreading her legs wider. And youâre seeing her pussy, the darkened, plump fleshâbare, wet, beggingâand so, so pretty.
Fuckâwhat kind of guy could resist this?
(The kind that buys her jewellery without knowing the first thing about her. The kind that leaves her to sit alone at a gala like a trophy on a shelf. The kind that doesnât get to taste herâdoesnât know how.
The kind thatâs not you.
And maybe she was rightâyou do think you could save her.)
âWhat are you doing?â Mina huffs, impatient.
You smirk, unable to resist the urge to drag this out, to keep her on edge a little longer. "Just appreciating."
Mina's eyes narrow, but the smile never leaves her lips. "Well, appreciate faster."
You donât need to be told twice.
Take her by the hips, spin her around, make her inhaleâsharp. Force her to look away from you, to face the cold, indifferent wall, to brace herself.
âWait, whyââ
âHold your dress up for me,â you mumble against her thighs.
Minaâs hands obey, holding the silk out of the way; and now sheâs bent over, like a fucking present. Letting your eyes drink in her ass; unable to do anything but just stare.
How the moonlight kisses the curve, makes the shadows play against it. So perfect. So round and tight and full. Fruit so ripe you could pluck it from the tree with your teeth.
Youâre leaning in, kissing the top of her thighs, right below where her cheeks spill over. Kissing up, a soft press of your lips to one cheek, the other, and fuck Minaâs trembling; barely holding it together, and youâre just getting started.
You drag your nose up, across the cotton of her panties and inhale her deep. Sweet and musky, a fine wine thatâs been left to breathe, and she squirms.
Shivers under your breath.
And when Mina sighs something that sounds suspiciously like a warningâbecause sheâs not the type to let you get away with anything like this so easilyâyou take the band of her underwear with your teeth, feeling the fabric stretch. Thin, delicate, begging to snap.
The panties fall away, down to her ankles. The sound of her heels tapping the ground as she lifts her legs to let it slide off, leaving her bare, vulnerable, and yours.
Mina goes still.
Hands spread her cheeks, and finally, you dive in, tongue first. Swipe along the crevice of her ass, taste the sweetness of her from bottom to top, forcing this gasp from her lips. Youâre not shy about itâno room for anything close to it when your nose is pressed up against her assholeâand Minaâs thighs are trembling, muscles in her legs tightening like sheâs trying to run away from whatâs coming next.
But she wonât. Youâve got her pinned. Youâve got her right where she wants to be.
You flatten your tongue against her pussy, lick from cunt to asshole in one, long slow drag, make her sigh your name like itâs a prayer.
âI canât believeâI neverâno oneâs everââ Sheâs talking, trying to keep it together, trying to rationalise how something so filthy is making her fall apart in a million different, tremendous ways. But the words break off into moans, pure music to your ears.
âLike that?â You murmur against her skin, words disappearing into her.
âOh my god, yes,â Mina cries out, a benediction. Her grip tightens on her dress, holding it up like a veil. A fucked-up kind of thing, marrying her cunt to your lips; arousal so potent youâre drowning it.
Because sheâs a wreck, been a wreck since the moment you laid a hand on her. And now you just have to keep her there.
You let your tongue slide up and down her slit, teasing the folds, going lower, spreading her legs to lap up her clit until sheâs begging for itâuntil sheâs begging for you to push inside, to fuck her with it, to make her scream.
"Enjoy it, enjoy being so messy for me.â
"Ohâoh my God!" Mina cries out as you delve into her, and the sound echoes down empty corridors, bouncing off the walls, taking a grand tour of the palace. âI canât believeâcanât fucking believeâ"
You can't believe it either. That no one else has had the pleasure of tasting, of licking, of dining on this slice of Eden laid out before you. It's a crime against nature, really. A sin that you're more than happy to rectify.
"Fuck, you're so good," Mina voice is strained, her legs buckling under the weight of her own desire, she needs to post one hand onto the wall to not completely collapse into your mouth.
A dark chuckle escapes your lips. Feeling smug and utterly in control. "It's not rocket science, darling. Just a little bit of appreciation goes a long way."
But you're not just tonguing her ass because itâs there, because itâs what youâre into. Youâre doing it because itâs driving her wild, because you know itâs a button thatâs been left untouched, unexplored. And thereâs something about being the first to do it that makes your cock throb, makes you want to worship not just her ass, but all of her.
Every part of her that's been neglected, overlooked, ignored.
"You have no idea," she breathes, her legs trembling harder now, "How good it feels."
You lean back, just a fraction, looking up at her, the tension coiling up her spine. "Oh, darling," you say, "I do. Believe me, I do."
A kiss into the small of her back, and you slide your finger back into her, once at first. So impossibly wet, stretching so easily for you, welcoming you right back in.
Itâs all for you.
And you canât get enough, so you add another, then another, stretching her even more, making her drench you and moan for you louder and louder.
Youâve figured it out. How to fuck her, lick her, press into her cunt just right. Finding the rhythm, that makes her breath skip and her body tense, that makes her pussy clamp down around your digits.
âOh, God, oh, oh, ohâyesâright thereâright thereââ Sheâs panting, her hips jerking back, meeting every thrust of your fingers and your tongue.
Youâre so close to making her cumâso close that you can almost taste it on the airâand sheâs begging for it, so sweetly, so desperately.
âPlease, please, donât stop, Iâm right thereââ Minaâs hand reaches back, tangling in your hair, and sheâs pulling you closer, grinding herself against your mouth.
Bury your face between her cheeks, fuck her fast with your fingers. Itâs heaven down in the depths of hell; her thighs, her cheeks, her cunt, her ass. So soft, so wet, so very yours.
That whimper, that beautiful sigh that escapes Minaâs lips is her final invitation. You push your tongue inside her, opening it up, feeling the tightness, the warmth. The shock coursing through her as she surrenders to the unspeakable filth and bliss of your mouth on her asshole.
So tight, so clean, so delicious.
You lick and suck and kiss, fucking her with your fingers, pressing into her, exploring the depths of that tight little hole.
"This is, this isââ her voice strains, wonder, desperation, downright heat at what youâre doing to her. "No oneâs ever done this to me. Keep eating my ass, please."
Itâs her words that keeps you going, and it all becomes a blur of moans and shivers, of the way she tastes, smells, feels. But you donât stop, you canât, all you want to do is make that tight ring of muscle yours.
âPlease let me cum. Now. Please. I need itâI need youââ
She needs you to never stop.
You take her, right there in the moonlit garden, hidden by the shadows and the foliage and the silk of her dress. You can almost feel the vibrations of her voice in your mouth, against your tongue, like itâs a part of her, like sheâs speaking straight into your soul with every moan and gasp and plea.
The squelch of your fingers fucking her. Her cunt griping you, being devoured. Your tongue invading her ass. The way youâre ruining her for everyone else. Her cries.
Sheâs so loud.
It doesnât matter.
The whispers of the gala seem so far away, so irrelevant. Itâs all about Mina and her ass and your three fingers sawing in and out of her and sheâs sayingâ
âGod, fuck, how can you do this, how can you make meâfuckâ"
The answer to her unfinished question: itâs because sheâs worth it. Itâs because of her, how she makes you want to prove yourself. Because of her hips and her thighs and her cunt and her ass and all of her, every single part.
And thatâs your name on her breath, thatâs your name when sheâs close, thatâs your name when she finally tips over, when her legs give way and sheâs gasping it into the night.
âOh myââ
Mina cums.
You swallow.
Drink your fill from her cunt, fill up your nose with her scent. Burn the memory of what itâs like to have your face buried in her ass and have her leaking down your chin. Itâs a full body spasm that wracks through her, setting her soul on fire. Sheâs a star, a supernova, a fucking explosion on your tongue.
Her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing, clenching, and you give it to her, keep fucking her through it, keep licking, because sheâs still there, still hovering.
It overwhelms herâshe lets itâyou feel her body tighten, quiver, then release like a bowstring snapped.
âFuck me, fuck me, pleaseâyes, like thatârightâright thereâyesâyesâyesââ
A chant of yeses right before falling off a cliff and into an oh fuck, Iâm cumming.
And youâre right there, knees in the dirt, smiling against her cheeks, holding onto her hips, making sure she doesnât collapse entirely.
And fuck, she goes, and goes and goes.
Until the ground falls beneath her feet.
Youâre there to catch her, to ease her down to the ground with you, hold her in your arms until her world stops spinning.
It takes a moment, two.
And she looks up at you, like sheâs unsure of how she got there, in this tangle of sighs and limbs and you. But it doesnât really matter because she pulls you closer, hand still buried in your hair, needing to kiss you just one more time.
Her taste lingers on your tongueâsweet and salty and so uniquely her. She kisses you again, a little less frantic this time. A little more like she means it.
Itâs hard not to feel anything but pride.
Minaâs cheek is pressed to your chest, her eyes barely able to focus, her breaths coming in quiet, contented puffs.
And youâre coming to realise what kind of woman Mina is. Even now, when she should be an unrepairable messâsprawled out on the cool floor with her dress in a puddle around her, her pussy still pulsing and leaking down her thighsâthereâs this poise to her thatâs downright intimidating.
She breathes, âYouâre just a fantasy, arenât you?â It feels like a warm hand sliding down your spine.
You lean down, kiss her forehead, tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Itâs peaceful. Itâs perfect.
And then your emergency line rings.
Mina inclines her head. A spell is broken. âWell, thatâs timing for you.â
You instantly regret the next words that come out of your mouth, the rational words that have never sounded more irrational. âI need to go.â
Minaâs far too polite, far too graceful to say what she wants to say, what youâre pleading her in your mind to say. But she knows the game. You both do.
She just nods, rewards herself with a peek at the tent angrily poking underneath your slacks.
âItâs fine,â she says. (Itâs not). She reaches up to your lips, running a thumb over the gloss sheâs stained you with. âI think I can handle it from here.â
Her other hand slips down to your thigh, gives you a courtesy squeeze as a farewell, and itâs all you can do not to jump. But you canât, because the phoneâs still ringing, because at the end of the day youâre still a billionaire with responsibilities and a reputation to uphold.
Sheâs kind of enough to give you an out. âYouâre supposed to be giving a speech, right?â
Said responsibility and reputation has you answering, âYeah.â
Youâre stupid for it, stupid for even entertaining the idea of letting her go, or leaving her behind. But youâre not completely blamelessâitâs near impossible to even think straight when all the blood in your body has gone south for the evening. Â
âAre you going to be okay with,â Mina blinks down at you. âYour situation?â
Itâs painful to even say it. âI guess Iâll have to be.â
Mina sits up, pulls herself off you, untangling her legs with a grace that seems almost otherworldly. Pulls her panties back up, tucks them into place with a little shiver. Smooths her dress down, twisting it back in place.
Youâre already regretting letting her leave before sheâs even gone.
But the messages have piled up on your phone, and Mina can see it all, the endless frantic texts, the missed calls.
Youâre late.
Youâre needed.
The worldâs waiting.
Mina reads your face, and you canât tell if sheâs impressed or disappointed. âLooks like youâve got your hands full.â
You stand up, help her to her feet, because thatâs what you doâyou take care of your own messes. Sheâs still smiling at you, and you want to tell her how much you wish you could stay.
âItâs okay,â is all she says, as you tuck your shirt back in and slick your hair down.
Sheâs redoing her own hair, trying to fix it into something presentable. Something less âIâve been fucked raw against a brick wallâ and more âgee, quite a strong wind tonightâ.
âI knew from the jump you didnât have the time.â
Youâre blurting out, âI can make more.â
âNot even money can buy that.â
Your phone rings again.
Minaâs eyes follow the screen, the glow lighting up her face. Ethereal. Yeah, that's the word for how she looks. You've never been sure of the definition but you're certain it fits.
And when she stands on her toes to kiss your cheek, to bid you farewell, she holds onto your shoulder long enough to whisper her address in your ear. âIâll be waiting. If you can get away.â
âWhy donât I just come with you now?â
She laughsâbut itâs empty, almost a little sad. âBecause, you have a job to do, and I have an appearance to keep up. And unlike you, Iâm not quite sure Iâm ready to broadcast to the whole world who Iâm fucking. Or who Iâm going to fuck. If heâs not late, that is.â
And with a quiet breath, sheâs gone.
A ghost in the moonlight, slipping away like sheâs been painted out of existence, leaving you with the memory of her on your mouth and the ache sheâs leaving in your cock.
You turn back to the gala.
The air feels somewhat colder.
â
The rest of the evening goes far, far too slowly for your liking.
While your absence has been noted, the whispers and glances are more curious than concerned. They don't know where you've been, and one of your assistants is kind enough to fetch you a new shirt to replace the one that's smudged with lipstick and makeup and Mina, before any real juicy rumours can start.
You try, and fail, to get things moving as quickly as possible:
(A business rival pulls you aside to congratulate you on the recent product launchâYou're just thinking about Mina's ass.
A board member sings your praises about last quarterâs earnings, how you're really sticking it to those idiots that forecasted a downturnâYou're only thinking about sticking it between Mina's thighs.
A reporter that sneaked in wants to know if you're planning another acquisition so soon after the last oneâYes, you're going to acquire Mina; find somewhere far away from here with another wall to pin her against and make her scream and ache all over for you.)
Thankfully, your assistant is at the ready before you can really make a scene, dragging you over to the stage and pulling you out of this shit show.
âJust stepped away for some airâ is what you had assured her when she took the shirt off your hands, but really, there's no point trying to hide it.
She's seen that look before, that glow that you can't quite wipe off.
But she's loyal, she doesn't ask questions. Just tells you that youâre on in five, and that in the meantime, sheâll make sure the driver is ready for a quick exit.
So, you force yourself to smile, address the faces that meld together into a wall of teeth.
Make a speech thatâs just a rush of words that you've recited countless times before. Innovation and growth, the future of the company, the same spiel from the annual report wrapped up in a shiny new bow.
But none of it matters. You're not even hearing yourself speak. You're hearing the echoes of Mina's moans, feeling the tremble of her thighs as you devoured her, replaying her orgasm in your mind again and again.
You can't wait to get off this fucking stage.
The second the applause dies down, you're off like a shot. The podium forgotten; the spotlight cold on your back. You grab your phone and slip out of the garden, dodging the eager hands that reach out for just a second of your time.
You find your driver waiting, just as instructed; Mina's address already punched in the navigation.
Just go, drop me off. Don't stick around. I'll call you to pick me up in the morning.
â
âIt was cerulean,â is Minaâs amused answer to your admittedly idiotic question.
Not your best moment, to be fair. You raced up to her apartment so quickly that you really didnât have anything more intelligent to say than âwhat happened to your dress?â and âI wanted to know what colour it wasâ.
But still, show you the person living or dead that could have said anything coherent when being greeted by Mina, opening the door to her apartmentâso unashamedly smug, and so very naked.
So what if you just stood there and stared?
Stared at the curves and dips, the way her hair cascades over her shoulders in inky waves, damp from a shower; making it cling to her skin, drape over her collarbone, her breasts. The nipples peeking straight at you, dusky, pointed, waiting the return of your tongue. Her pussy winking between her thighs, a treasure hidden in a sea of smooth flesh.
You donât know whether to apologise for your lack of eloquence or thank her for being so incredibly distracting.
You kind of want to request that she turn around.
Mina laughs at what is certainly a stupid expression colouring your face; folds her arms across her chest, crosses one leg over the other. "Waiting for me to offer you a drink?"
You blink. âThought you already gave me one.â
She scrunches her nose, answers, âI was only being polite.â
âI think weâre well past that.â
Thereâs that gravity again; shifting around Mina, tilting the world towards her until sheâs pulling you into her apartment and youâre kicking the door closed behind you.
âThen hurry up and take me upstairs.â
â
Thereâs a part of you that feels like you should warn Mina when she tells you:
âLook, youâve kept me waiting too fucking long. I need your cock, your cum inside of me. Right now. Before itâs too late and I change my mind. So, just please, please, pleaseââ
But those kind of thoughts are lost halfway up the staircase; when you both decide that you just can't wait anymore, and your hands are back on her hips and your tongue is pushing into her throat.
Her fault, really.
Stripping you down the hallway, leaving a trail of your clothes through her kitchen; taking you by the cock. Firm, confident pumps as she leads you through her penthouse, refusing to give you a moment to breathe.
Because sheâs obsessed with it. Obsessed with how it fills her hand, how it jumps at her touch, how it throbs when she squeezes it, strokes it.
âSo big for me," Mina's saysâto you, to herself, to your cock. "So perfectly, impossibly, big for me."
Youâre never going to make it to the top.
Pressing her up against the banister, kissing her, hard. Deep, bruising kisses, because now that youâre out of the garden you donât give a fuck if youâre leaving marks.
You just want her to remember this night, to feel it in every pulse and every breath.
Make her think of you when sheâs with him, if she can even go back to him after this. Because youâll both know that sheâs yours even when sheâs not.
âYouâre going to ruin me, you know that?â
You look into Minaâs eyes. You can see it all, how the rest of the night will play out. You and Mina, tangled in her apartment. You and Mina, on top of the kitchen island. You and Mina, against the shower walls, on the living room floor, maybe even on the balcony.
You and Mina, until the sun rises.
You kiss her harder. âIs that a request?â
âOf course it is.â
Because now you actually have the time to appreciate her, to let your hands wander.
They glide over her body, mapping it out again, but slower this time. You've had your fill of the frantic touches, the greedy need. This is something else. This is savouring.
You start with your thumb at her navel, tracing the line down to her hips, then back up against to the base of her ribcage. Itâs the feel of the muscles in her stomach tensing and relaxing as you touch her, the inhale and the exhale. How ridiculously tiny her waist feels in your hand, how your palm fits so perfectly into the curve of her side that you swear sheâs been tailored for you.
Mina chokes on her breath as she tells you, âYouâre going to have to stop, or weâre not going to make it to the bedroom.â
You donât even slow down. You just donât care.
Your hand rises, higher, finds her breasts again; cupping it in your palm. A thumb rolls over her nipple.
You pinch. She gasps.
You smile into her neck. âSo, so, sensitive.â
Minaâs so willing, so keen to give herself over to you, to your touch. Youâve proven yourself to her already, made her cum with just your fingers and tongue. Now itâs just a matter of doing it all over againâbut slower, better, more thorough.
You palm her breasts, rolling and pinching them until theyâve been given the attention they deserve, until sheâs panting through your teases and caresses. Kneading the soft flesh beneath your hand and making her arch into your touch.
âYouâre really going to take your time, arenât you?â Mina mewls, half-sigh, half-plead. Grinding herself into you, making a shimmering mess on your waist. âGoing to torture me until I canât breathe.â
âIt is your fantasy.â
Pull her closer, take a handful of that perfect ass once again. It hasnât really been that long since you last had it in your hands but itâs all youâve had on your mind. What it looks like under proper lighting, what it feels like without the dress in the way. What kind of noises will she make when you grope, and she doesnât have to worry about anyone overhearing.
Press and squeeze, dig your fingers into her flesh. Not rough, but firm. Leaving little spots of red that will be gone by the morning.
Slide your finger down, down between her cheeks, and deeper, pressing into the sweet heat of her ass.
And then you feel it.
Her asshole. Wet and slick. Prepared.
A wink. A laugh. "Not my fault you're predictable."
You canât fucking wait anymore.
Sheâll just have to settle for the staircase.
Grab her by the hipsâher ass, and pull her down with you onto the steps, her legs straddling you as you sit down.
Take her inâall of her. The curve of her, the line of her spine, the fucking paradise thatâs her cheeks. Unbelievable.
You kiss into her back, follow down that trail right to where it swells, feeling the heat of her skin against your lips. Youâre going to ruin this ass; permanently plant your flag there, mark it as property of you and your cock until she canât take a seat without cursing your name.
Mina's shoulders tense when you pause, and she looks back over to you. There's a flash of nerves in her eyes, a gasp of "Here?" that's so faint you almost don't catch it.
Another kiss into her skin, you murmur, âHereâs perfect, Mina,â and she sighs when your finger presses against that puckered ring, cold with lubricant, made as ready as sheâs ever going to be.
Itâs the preparation that gets you; the idea of her in anticipation for you, for this, making sure sheâs nice and primed. Mina at the store, still wearing that dress, fresh from her orgasm, buying lube. Mina in her bathroom, stripping herself bare, toying with her asshole, making it perfect for you.
And Mina, now, eyes clenched shut, breaths heavy as your digit is pushing through, slipping into her, and sheâs so fucking tight around it.
âOh my god,â she hisses through her teeth, a quiver in her legs as you push deeper into her tight channel.
Your hands shoot to her thighs to steady her, a reassuring anchor to keep her from toppling over as your finger fills her completely, twisting and turning, slowly but surely easing her into the idea of being taken.
Itâs the moans that get you, the sighs as you intrude inside her. Sheâs so responsive, her breaths skipping and her pussy already starting to gush, coating your finger, your thighs, the steps below.
âYou doing okay?â
âYeahâyes,â Mina stutters, her footing slips just so, but she catches herself on the banister. âItâsâitâs intense. So intense. But donât stop, I can take it. I wantâI want more. I need this. I need this now, beforeâbefore I take all of you inside of me."
âYou want more?â You repeat her words, before giving her what she needsâadding a second finger, pressing them in deep, making sure sheâs good and open. The lube helps, but itâs the eagerness that gets her most of the way there; itâs that trust that she has in you, her willingness to let you take her here, in this way.
âYes, please,â Mina cries, doing everything she can to not collapse on top of you, to not come completely apart.
Youâre merciless, adding a third finger, stretching her until sheâs panting, until sheâs crying out, making this noise, this hushed whimper that takes the shape of your name.
âPlease, please, please,â Mina whispers to herself, pushing back against you, starting to rock back onto your hand, taking your fingers into her ass.
âNot yet, Mina, not yet,â you tell her, because even though sheâs close, even though sheâs begging, you want her to be absolutely fucking desperate for your cock when the moment comes.Â
You reach around her with your other hand, finding that button, already swollen and begging for attention. Playing with it, gently at first, a soft pressure to help her let go, to allow herself to let her voice echo up the staircase and through the penthouse.
God, how is she this sensitive, reactive to every little touch, to every exploration of her cunt, her ass, her body.
Itâs the ceremony of it all; this lurid, obscene ritual that youâre walking her through. Making her ass bounce on your hand in this hypnotic movement, making her stretch around your fingers, making her repeat your name over and over until sheâs convinced herself that all of her belongs to you.
These perfect, near-silent sighs. This unbelievable tightness. Minaâs body, turning itself into a fucking playground for your touch; to do with it as you will. Even if it means ruining her.
And itâs when you have her creaming all over you; down her thighs, making a mess of herself with these pushes and pulls, these declarations of how ready she is for you, that her body shakes with one last, long shiver.
She cums.
Softly, soundlessly, another cry of your name dying on her lips. A hand to your wrist to stop you abruptly, panting.
Tiny, tiny shivers, twitches in her thighs, around your fingers, leaving her barely there, barely with you. Head hanging low, chest heaving, catching her breath, putting herself back together again.
Time stretches before she's cognisant again, and she turns back, looking over her shoulder and straight at you. Eyes half-lidded, hazy, dripping with lust, anticipation, burning with need.
Deep, heavy breaths. And then Mina says the most devastating thing:
âIâm ready. Fuck my ass. Now. Please.â
A gunshot in the quiet of her home, rumbling through your bones.
Your fingers leave her ass, her cunt with a wet pop, forcing a whine from her throat at the sudden emptiness. A look at her asshole, how it clenches and unclenches, beckoning for you to fill it, to claim it as your own.
âGood girl.â
Holding her by the hips, lining her ass with your cock, nudging her opening with your tip and making her shiver. You donât go in immediately; you hover, giving her one last out, to really see if sheâs absolutely certain.
Mina trembles. Nods. Thatâs all the invitation you need.
âGod, Iââ
You push in, slow and steady, eyes on her ass as she takes you. So fucking tight, so intense, you can feel every part of her squeezing, accommodating you, moulding itself around your girth and swallowing you whole.
âTake it slow, darling, take it slow,â you whisper into her skin, guiding her down, telling her how good sheâs doing, how good she is for you, how much you love her tightness, her trust.
It seems impossible at first, the grip she has on you, like youâll never get in. But inch by agonising inch, she takes you, and itâs nothing short of total heaven.
Mina, so fucking beautiful in this moment of raw vulnerability; all sharp inhales and strained quivers wrecking through her, voice shaky as she tells you, âIâve never felt anything like this, I never thoughtâfuckâI never thought I could take anything like this.â
âYouâre doing so good,â you kiss your words into her, wrapping your arms around her, holding her.
âI canâI can do better,â she gasps, and you believe her.
But you still go slow, so painfully slow, even though every fibre of your being is screaming at you to just dig into her hips and slam into that glorious fucking ass and never look back.
âI can take it,â Mina breathes, âDo it, I can take it. I want all of you. In my ass. I can handle it.â
Mina nods, clenches her ass, her cheeks firming up around your throbbing cock.
âI want it to hurt so good.â
No more convincing required. You push in deeper, make her back stiffen, her muscles contract, making her cry.
Itâs a dance, a delicate ballet of bodies, of breath and touch, of your cock inside Minaâs ass. Lost in it, in the feel of skin on skin, the sound of wet, needy noises that sheâs making, her shudders in your arms.
Until finally, with a strangled gasp, sheâs fully seated. Youâre buried in her tight, hot ass, basking in the warmth of her, leaving you both winded and struggling for air.
Stillness overrides the moment, because itâs too perfect, too overwhelming, and the feeling. You need to get used to the feeling.
You break the silence first. âMina?â
âI know. I know.â
A kiss against her neck, scraping the soft skin there. A whisper in her ear, your breath hot and ragged.
âIâm going to fuck your ass now.â
You always keep your promises.
Mina answers by leaning back into you, her hand finding yours, her nails running along your fingers as if to say, âYes, please, now.â
Moving, so slow itâs almost painful. The drag of her ass around your cock like nothing youâve ever felt beforeâlike youâre sliding through warm, velvet-covered steel.
âFuck, yes, please,â with every inch you pull out, and âToo much, so good, too fucking much,â when you push back in, deeper and deeper still.
It builds and builds, this sweet agony, each pass in her ass faster, harder, turning Minaâs cries and wails into moans of pure bliss. It takes time and long, hard fucking for her body to relax into this rhythm, letting you take her, own her.
A vision above you, sweat glistening on her back, hair matted and sticking to her shoulders, and Minaâs ass, a snug ring around your cock. You watch as your cock slides out of her, the way her ass clenches around the head, holding on for just a second before pushing all the way back down.
You canât help but groan, âChrist,â as she moves on top of you like that. So gracefully, so beautifully, so fucking obscenely on your cock.
âThank youâGodâthank you, thank you, thank you.â Minaâs moans are pure music to your ears, sheâs babbling, talking through the pain, through the pleasure. âSo, so good, filling me likeâfuckânever been filled up like this.â
And as you push on, push further and further until your cock is melting inside her, burning her up in every way she's ever dared to dream, you can see the smile curling onto Minaâs face. Itâs pride, youâre realising. Proud of herself, proud of how she can take you, how she can handle this kind of depraved ecstasy.
âIt feels so deep.â
Tearing her open. Revealing the tender, delicate core beneath the glamour, the lights, the unreal beauty that is Mina. Leaving her sobbing, pleading, whining for more, more, more.
Bouncing on you now, each more assured than the last, cries of nothing but need. Opening up to accept you fully, completely, her ass a tight fucking sleeve for you, coming down and wrapping itself around you like a searing hot second skin.
You know the truth, but you still want to hear it.
âHow many?â
Mina has her answer ready: âYouâre theâyouâre the first.â
You grin. A smug, triumphant baring of teeth that spreads from ear to ear. âI have no fucking idea how thatâs possible. How nothing has ever been up this tight, perfect little asshole.â
âOh, there's been toys,â Mina moans, strained and shaky as you pump into her, âBut youâre just the first that's real.â
âThen your boyfriend is a fucking idiot,â you growl into her ear, your hand moving to her throat, gently clasping, making her gasp, making her eyes go wide with shock, with excitement. âHe doesnât know what he has.â
âEnough about my boyfriend,â Mina's quick to answer, snapping, her head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. âEven thoughâeven ifâhe wouldnât, couldnât dream of filling me like this. Filling me up so much that it hurts, so much thatâfuck, it feels so right, so fucking rightââ
âYou love this, donât you, Mina?â You ask, but all Mina can do is nod vigorously, too overrun by the fucking to form words. âUnderneath it all, youâre just a dirty slut for it, arenât you? Letting me use this pretty, tight ass like this.â
âIââ she stutters, right before confessing, âI love it.â
She slams her hips down on you, the stairs groaning with each thrust, not built to withstand this kind of punishment.
âI love that itâs you, love that youâre the first. I canât believe itâjustâI need it. I need your cock in me, so deepâI need you, I need you, I need youâso please don't stop.â
âI would never dream of stopping.â
Never.
Not when sheâs begging like this, her voice hoarse and her body quaking. When she sighs and shivers every time you fuck a little faster, push a little harder, testing just how much she can take.
Tits jiggling with every thrust, cunt leaking all the way down your thighs, ass puckering and loosening.
Her whole body, yours.
Yours for the taking. Minaâs divine body, in all its sharp planes and ridged muscles, squeezing and coiling at every juncture, every penetration setting her alight.
You declare it, even though it doesn't need to be said. âMade for me.â
âYes,â sheâs nodding. Or rather, letting her head fall into one. âGod yes.â
âJust been waiting for me for so long, havenât you? Been waiting for the right cock to come along and split you in half.â Youâre saying these things, these stinging words that you fuck into Mina, send shooting through her like sparks. Sheâs a live-wire, a fucking blackout waiting to happen.
Weeping down her thighs, choking out every whine, âYes,â she whispers, âyes, yes, yes, been needing to be ruined. Needing it, needing you. So much, so much, soâfuckingârightââ
âFucking criminal that you had to wait,â youâre saying, loving this, so enraptured by all of it. âBut Iâm here now.â
Mina shivers, pussy clenches, and she just canât stop saying, âYours, yours, yoursââ
Completely, totally yours, now.
You know it. She knows it.
Itâs written in the way she takes your cock, in the way she loses herself to you, loses all semblance of composure and decorum, peels back all the carefully curated layers that make her Mina, until all there is to see and touch is the raw, unfiltered need that youâve unleashed from underneath.
"Touch me, fuck me, take me, take my ass, I need moreâ"
Again, your fingers find her folds, sticky and swollen and waiting.
You touch her, press down on her clit. Circling it with the same rhythm as your hips. Striking a match in a dark room, lighting up her body in this blaze.
The noises that it all makes; the slosh of your fingers at her cunt, the squelch of your cock invading her ass, so fucking explicit, so fucking filthy.Â
Sheâs erratic, breath catching, throat pulsing against your fingers, and she somehow, impossibly, clenches even more around you, suffocating your cock with just her tight, tight ass.
You keep that same tempo. That desperate, fucking unyielding beat thatâs going to make her come, going to turn this idol, this mystery, this drop-dead fucking gorgeous woman who should belong to someone else but is now screaming proudly just how much sheâs yours, into nothing but a trembling mess of whimpers and whines.
âMore, fuckâoh my god, oh my fucking godâitâs so fucking goodâso goodâso fucking goodââ
Sheâs reaching her peakâher voice, her body, her cunt, her assâall of her reaching that perfect crescendo of pleasure that youâve been orchestrating, that youâve been waiting for.
âIâve neverâno oneâs everâfuck, fuck, fuckââ
Sinking into her, making her feel like sheâs being torn apart and remade with every stroke, making her feel nothing like sheâs ever felt before, making her feel like nothing but your fucking whore.
So, so close, barrelling towards it now, all these tears running down her cheeks, these filthy words slipping from her lips. Coming apart in your arms, because sheâs never been this filled, this complete.
âGoing toâgoing to cumâfuck me, harder, harderâgoing to cum all over your cockââ Mina tells you, a warning, the last one you get before she screams, âToo goodâfilling meâso goodâgive it to meâGodâI can never go backââ
She shatters. Monumentally.
Into a million tiny pieces of pleasure, each one more brilliant than the last.
Her body spasms, her ass squeezes so fucking tight around your cock that you can feel the orgasm ripping through her, up her spine, through her throat, until sheâs crying out and itâs hitting your earsâ
âOh my God, I'm going toâjust, say my nameâplease, say my name when Iââ
âMina,â you say, and she cums.
âMina,â you repeat when her pussy floods over your hand, ass smothers your cock.
âMina,â again when it ripples across her skin, leaves her in fits, uncontrollable quakes, consumed by pure, unfiltered joy.
You watch the whole thingâwatch her scream your name, watch her shake and quiver and fall apart, right there on your cock; and you're fucking her through it all, fucking her well past it, chanting âMinaâ over and over again.
You'll never forget this, never forget this sightâthis woman, this star, built up and broken down just for you.
âMine,â you bite into her ear, because now, itâs true.
Minaâs barely there, eyes glassy, hand cradling your face. But sheâs able to say it, because itâs branded into every bone of her body: âYours.â
Itâs a complete disaster.
And now you're cumming.
Brand new sensations, devastation in full measureâyour soul ripped from your chest, until all thatâs left is this impulsive, overwhelming need to give her your all, your everythingâto fill her entire existence with just you.
You drive your cock into her once more, impaling her deep, and let go.
It floods her, rushes inside her, spills and spills.
Mina can't do anything but feel itâevery pulse, every spurt. She throws her head back, her mouth open in this silent plea, satisfaction painted across her face as your heat surges inside her. Her ass milks you, needy for every drop, so, so thirsty for it.
âIt'sâcumming inside my assâso, so nice, keep cumming for me.â
You hold onto her, throb inside her, pump ropes into her, and there's a kissâhot and clumsyâsomewhere in the midst of it all, your mouths colliding and tongues wrapping around each other in a futile attempt to last just that little bit longer.
Getting all dizzy and spellbound, floating back down to the ground as the last waves of your climaxes start to subside, until one of you says, âThank you,â and the other echoes it back.
You stay like that, swallowed up inside her, dripping out of her ass. Lowering one hand from her throat, rising the other from her pussy, pulling her into an embrace, keeping her as close as you can while you both try to put yourselves back together.
Itâs sex that soaks the air, fills the penthouseâsweat, lube, the musk of all the evidence you're leaving behind. Intoxicating, breathing it in, setting your nerves alight, rousing your cock inside her all over again.
But Mina, sheâs a stunning catastrophe, torn asunder in all the best ways. Perfection not marred, but made better. Completed. Looking up at you with wonder, with gratitude, with a smile.
You look down at her and admit it, âPerfect.â
Mina laughs out loud, âDisastrously perfect.â
âThis is going to be a problem, isnât it?â
You kiss her once more.
Mina kisses you back.
âOnly if we make it one.âÂ
â
You think you can read her mind.
And she, yours.
Itâs the only way any of this makes senseâhow perfect you fit together, how well you read each other; fill each otherâs needs without use of any words outside of curses and names and strangled pleas.
Printed onto your DNA, carved into your bones, these exact pathways you shape through her home and into her skin.
You do make it to the bedroom, somehow.
And then, exactly as predicted:
The shower, where Mina takes you into her mouth, gags herself around you, covers herself in your cum before letting the water wash it all away.
Then the kitchen, polishing off a bottle of wine, slurring promises into Minaâs cunt, having her rake the back of your scalp and scream the same promises back into your ears.
And finally, the living room, folding her over the couch, tumbling onto the floor with Mina, riding you so hard the neighbours below start banging on their ceiling in protest.Â
It's only the balcony that goes untouched.
Maybe another time.
But thatâs where it ends: sprawled across a lush rug, sticky with sweat and cum and wine, naked and bare. Ignoring the watchful eyes of the photos that line the walls and shelvesâfamily, friends, her boyfriend. Just living in this bubble where the sun will never rise and the world outside ceases to exist.
Getting to know each other in ways few people ever do.
Tracing patterns into the small of her back, asking these questions. Is this what you always imagined you would be doing? How you thought your life would be? Does it ever actually feel enough?
Mina pokes and prods back, her nails lightly scraping against your chest, leaving half-moons in her wake. Do you think you could ever be happy? Do you ever wonder why itâs so hard for other people to keep up? Are you fucked up in all the same ways as me?
And itâs so easy to answer truthfully, to be honest, because youâre both still maintaining the façade of this just being a simple fling; a blip along the timeline of your lives.
The yours and mine of it all, all those promises you were spilling. Just callous words tossed in the throes of passion.
They didnât mean anything real.
Because itâs not like youâre going to see each other again, not like thereâs going to be a mess of emotions and consequences that will have to be dealt with in the morning after.
Eventually though, the light does slip through the curtains, the clothes come back on, and youâre kissing Mina against the doorway and thinking of a million reasons why you should stay.
"So, how long are we going to pretend that this is normal?" You broach, and it immediately feels like youâre breaking some unspoken rule.Â
Minaâs keeping herself busy, hands at your shirt, buttoning it back into place, one by one. Hiding away evidence that her mouth, her lips, her teeth were ever on you.
She looks up at you. Smirks. âFucking âtil the break of dawn, giving each other orgasms that never quite end? Flooding each one of my holes with your cum?âÂ
You tilt your head.Â
âI donât know. This whole thing is⌠unique. Uncharted territory and all.â
âIt goes without saying, but, yeah. Same for me.â You echo, âUnique.â
You reach for her, smoothing her hair back. The early morning light makes it shine like a crown of jewels.Â
âDo you want it to stay that way?â
Mina considers. Leans into your hand. âYou think we should make a habit out of this? I didnât pin you for the type.â
âNeither did I, but it didnât seem so bad when you were riding me on that couch,â you tease. âAnd in the shower, and on the staircase, and in the kitchenâŚâ
She blushes, lips caught between her teeth, looking like sheâs struggling to hold in a laugh. Thereâs this glint in her eye as her hand wanders up to your cheek, thumb hovering just shy of your mouth. For a second, you think sheâs going to kiss you again.
But instead, she just looks at you.
Eyes you with something close to fascination, something that makes your heart stop. And you're reading each otherâs minds again, knowing you're both going to lie, going to pretend like this was just a one-night thing. Something the two of you can easily wipe your hands with and walk away from like it never even happened.
Because this really is the first timeâyouâve never done anything like this before. Sure youâve dipped your toe in the pool of commitment, paddled around in the shallow end, but youâve never fallen for someone proper.
Never worried about what someone's going to be doing when youâre not there, never thought about whether youâd be better off sticking around to find out.Â
But you have a job. A company to run.
And Mina, a career. A boyfriend. A life.
So, you donât make plans.
You donât even ask for her number.
You don't need to.
Deep down inside you know youâll find her again.
For now though, you spin your bullshit: âItâs probably for the best if we donât, though.â
âProbably.â Mina agrees, but she can hear the same ticking clock as you.
The timer thatâs already started, counting down to when sheâll inevitably be undoing the same buttons, redrawing the same patchwork of red and pink across your chest, and pulling you into her home and into her; fucking her pussy, her ass, her mouth, in all the ways she needs, until youâre spilling out of her all over again.
 âDefinitely.â Mina unlocks the front door. âFor the best.â
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cw: omegaverse
Having thoughts about dominant omega Price who helps his lads through their ruts because he's a pragmatist. He's clean, he won't get knocked up because he has that shit on lockdown, and the bloody muppets won't go biting some pretty little thing in the local villages, causing all sorts of issues. It's all part of the greater good schtick he has going on.
He takes them back to his flat when it's time so they get the whole nesting experience, cooks them a nice meal with a few beers, and then takes them to bed for the time they need to get it out of their systems.
He's attentive, performing all the chuffs, purrs and trills they need at the height of their rut to feel like they're doing a good job. Doesn't complain when Soap gets rough, or Simon is big, or Gaz likes to kiss and groom him. He bites his arm, grunts out encouragement, breathes deep through his nose when they knot him for the third time in a row without rest. When they occasionally get too excited and try to claim him, he knows how to stop it.
They're soon back to fighting fit, back on the job, focused, and he doesn't take long to be right again, even if he's feeling tender and his hormones are out of wack for a day or two. He's a professional. Mind over matter is his mantra, and it's nothing that won't repair itself with time.
Price promised them that if they followed him he'd have their backs, that he'd cut through the red tape and the obstacles. For him, using his body to carry them out of a fire fight is no different to letting them fuck and knot him to manage their ruts.
His heat though? He suffers through that on his own. Price, who can't stomach any kind of vulnerability, who can't feel like he's leaning on or needs anyone, who does everything on his own terms and no one else's. The thought of any one of his lads seeing him in that state turns his stomach; a mewling, weak, pathetic mess, unfit for command.
No, Price's heats are his private shame, and he has managed them just fine without interference for two decades, even when Nikolai kisses him one night and Simon's scent begins to change as he reaches his prime, and Price's instincts are starting to fuck with his head.
#captain john price#i just think he would view sex with the same utilitarian outlook as needing to take a shit#but less satisfying and more exhausting/messy#if he were an omega anyway#all the issues that would come with that loss of control for a man like price#he would resent his heats#and hate the loss of control
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You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]
c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested hereÂ
ËËË âĄ ËËË
I donât want to see you anymore.Â
The text doesnât compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the senderâs name, his heart stopped clean in his chest.Â
He puts down his pen.
The idea that the text wasnât meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you donât contact them outside of the club.Â
His second thought is that heâd been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.
Heâs being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who heâd thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You donât answer. He calls again and heâs clearly declined three rings in.Â
He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can.Â
Aaron doesnât care that youâre a stripper. He mightâve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldnât fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldnât work, and that youâd never be interested in a man like him.Â
Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you.Â
And now itâs over.Â
He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk.Â
âHotch?â Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen.Â
âIâm not sure when Iâll be back.âÂ
âWhat happened?âÂ
Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as heâs able to. âI have a small emergency. Itâs fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?âÂ
âHotch?â Morgan asks again.Â
Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time heâs at the parking garage.Â
The fifth time, you answer.Â
He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. âHoney?â he asks.Â
âI donât want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?âÂ
Heâs taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. âYes,â he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, âit is.âÂ
âI donât want to be with you.âÂ
âHave I upset you?âÂ
âWould that make it easier?âÂ
âNo. I donât think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Canât we talk about it?âÂ
âI donât want to see you.âÂ
âPlease.â He canât imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. âPlease, give me the chance to fix this.âÂ
âAaron, itâs not really fixable. Please donât call me again.â
âY/N,â he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone âwhatâs going on? âLet me come over. We need to talk about this.âÂ
âNoââ
âItâs not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.âÂ
ââŚOkay. Fine. Iâm at home, but I have work at six.âÂ
âIâm on my way.âÂ
He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. Thereâs plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out whatâs wrong and hopefully change your mind.
He thinks about it more seriously as heâs parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesnât want to change your mind. You arenât acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment.Â
He takes the stairs to your apartment. Itâs not the nicest place to stay, but itâs far from a slum, either. He doesnât worry about you when youâre home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day?Â
Now heâs thinking, What did I do?Â
He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks.Â
âCome in, Aaron.âÂ
He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. Youâve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. Heâs always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesnât feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom.Â
Youâre sitting in the kitchen with the light off. âHey,â he says, voice already laden with relief he doesnât mean to share.Â
âHi.âÂ
âCan I sit down?âÂ
You gesture for him to do as he likes.Â
Aaron sits down at your table. Itâs a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when youâre feeling especially pretty, youâll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.
âWhatâs this all about?â he asks quietly.Â
âI just think weâre⌠at the end of our relationship.âÂ
You donât sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone.Â
âWhatâs making you feel that way?âÂ
âDoes it matter?âÂ
Again, avoiding and evasive.Â
He meets your gaze unflinchingly. âI care about you. I love you,â he says. âI know I canât be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really canât see a future for us, then⌠Iâll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?âÂ
âYouâre not who I picture for myself,â you agree.Â
âNo?â he asks.Â
âNo. You didnât do anything wrong, but I canât see us together. Weâre not the right fit.âÂ
You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks heâs starting to understand. âDo you think weâre not the right fit?âÂ
âPlease donât use your psychoanalysis on me.âÂ
âItâs not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, itâsâ I know you.â He grimaces. âIâd like to think I do. And Iâm allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?âÂ
You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like youâve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting.Â
âWhat do you want me to say?â you ask.Â
Dramatic, heâd hope you could say you donât love him, or donât care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. âIs this really what you want?â he asks instead.Â
Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow.Â
âNo,â you say carefully, âitâs not what I want. I donât like you being against me.âÂ
âThen whatâs making you feel this way?âÂ
You cover your eyes with one hand. âI wanted to do this over the phone,â you say in a squeeze.Â
He reaches for you but doesnât touch. âI couldnât let you.âÂ
âI just want you to be happy,â you say, so high he can barely understand you. âIâll never be like you, Aaron. Youâre so smart, and youâve done so much. Youâre a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?âÂ
âIt doesnât matter to me what they say. I know you, and they donât.â
âWhat about what I think?âÂ
âWhat do you think?âÂ
You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger heâs unprepared for. âI told you, donât psychoanalyse me. I donât want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I donât want to be with you because you wonât be happy, and neither will I.âÂ
Aaron isnât too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until heâs curled his hand over your smaller fingers. âWe are happy,â he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. âI understand where youâre coming from. When we first met, I couldnât have predicted that Iâd be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them youâre a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like Iâm being cruel to you. But just because thereâs a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesnât mean that youâre any lesser than me. Youâre not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and Iâm glad we did. If you werenât a dancer I never wouldâve met you.âÂ
âDo you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?â you ask weakly.Â
âIâd hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, Iâm relieved.âÂ
âAaron, I get this rush of safety, like youâreâ Iâm finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you itâs that I donât even want to. And thatâs stupid. I know that thatâs stupid.âÂ
âWhat Iâm thinking,â he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way youâre feeling, âis that youâve thought about all of this a lot. Iâm glad youâve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish youâd thought more about what we both want.âÂ
âI want you to be happy,â you argue, as you had a few moments ago.Â
âAnd Iâm never happier than when weâre together.â He shrugs. âLove isnât about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is whatâs important.âÂ
âI donât know who I amâŚâÂ
âI know exactly who you are,â he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles.Â
âIâm⌠Iâm sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this Iâd be too much of a coward to really see it through.âÂ
âI see. Youâve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.âÂ
You shake your head sadly. âAaron, weâre not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and Iâm no good.âÂ
âWe have been nothing but happy since we met.â Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isnât ashamed of you. He doesnât make you weak, you arenât. âI donât know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like weâre from different worlds, but itâs not that melodramatic. Youâre my partner. I love you. Itâs hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.âÂ
You share a look.Â
âIâve never heard you talk so much,â you say, your frown fading. âIâm sorry.âÂ
âYou havenât done anything wrong.âÂ
âWhen I thought I couldnât get any more embarrassing,â you mumble.Â
âYou arenât embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.âÂ
âThought out of my head,â you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath.Â
âDo you really want to break up?â he asks softly.Â
Your breath warms his arm. âNo.âÂ
âYou can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.â He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. âNo one else matters but me and you. We donât have to factor in other people. We can just be together.âÂ
âIâm not worth all the fuss,â you say under your breath.Â
âWhat, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didnât want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?â He chances a smile. âThat made my night.âÂ
âYou like making girls cry.âÂ
âYes,â he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. âThatâs my goal in life, sweetheart.â His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. âMaking you cryâŚâÂ
Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesnât mind, heâll do the hard work.Â
âIâm sorry,â you murmur.Â
âItâs okay.â He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. âItâs alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.âÂ
âAll my fault.âÂ
âMaybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and⌠know that Iâm here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldnât be together, it doesnât have to be that youâre alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,â he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. âYouâre not a coward. But I wish you wouldnât be this brave about breaking my heart.âÂ
âStop making me feel guilty.âÂ
His laugh is a breath against your cheek. âNo, itâs fine, isnât it? Use me and abuse me.âÂ
âShut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping youâre doing?â You laugh at his absurdity. âIâd never abuse you.âÂ
âI know. Just step on me a bit.âÂ
âStop, stop,â you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, âI donât wanna step on you, I never wouldâŚâÂ
âJust rough me up a little.âÂ
âNever.â You press your face to his neck. âThank you for not letting me do it.âÂ
âI wonât let you go so easily.â His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching.Â
He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you donât complain, you just sigh.Â
âItâs not that youâre not who I picture for myself, like I said before,â you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. âYou werenât, but I didnât realise that I could have you. I didnât really know men like you existed. I shouldâve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.âÂ
âThatâs not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.âÂ
âSorry. Just had to get it in.âÂ
He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. âIf this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.âÂ
âI know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchnerââ You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but itâs only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.
You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely.Â
âSorry,â you say.Â
âForgiven.â Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. âI like begging to stay. It builds character.âÂ
âHow long will you be like this?â you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden.Â
Youâd needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isnât solely business and sternness, heâs an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesnât care who knows that. When heâs working heâs one person, and when heâs with you, heâs another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you.Â
âAt my age itâs perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,â he says. âYouâve seen some of the other Sectionâs workerâs wives.âÂ
âIâm not that young,â you say.Â
âSo you admit it?âÂ
You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar.Â
â
âŚI'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtainsâŚ
Aaronâs humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. âAm I rough enough, am I rich enough? Iâm not too blindâŚâ he fades off.Â
The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate.Â
You press a hand down your side.Â
To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you canât make yourself believe that heâs as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl.Â
Youâd make a cute checkout girl, heâd said.Â
This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldnât be, but itâs still lingerie. Itâs meant to excite.Â
âHoney,â he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, âare you stuck again?âÂ
You laugh. âI bet you hope so.âÂ
âThatâs accusatory in nature.âÂ
âIâm coming.â You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom.Â
Aaronâs sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine heâd been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling.Â
âHome only,â he says.Â
âI knew youâd say that.âÂ
âYou look stunning.â His eyes seem darker. All pupil.Â
âI have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, thatâs why I bought them.âÂ
Something in your voice makes him smile. âYou said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.âÂ
âI said too slutty.âÂ
âHoney, theyâre all revealing in their ways. And I donât have a problem with itâŚâ He takes a breath. âMuch. But some of these are meant forâŚâÂ
âThe man who loves me?â
âExactly.âÂ
Heâd said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause.Â
âSpin?â he asks.Â
One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now heâs gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles.Â
âBeautiful. Really, honey, thatâs the nicest so far.âÂ
âI have a confession.âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
âThis one was for you.âÂ
Heâd know if you were lying. âFor me?â he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as youâre used to hearing these days.Â
âYes, sir.âÂ
âDonât,â he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. âUnless youâre done trying those on, I donât want to hear it.âÂ
âThis is the last one.âÂ
âIn that case.â He covers his face with a cushion.Â
You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron wonât mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time youâd been sitting in his lap, youâd been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. Itâll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesnât have to make sense to anyone but him and you.Â
You ease the pillow down his face.Â
âAre you blushing, Aaron?â you ask.Â
âNot purposefully.âÂ
âYou look a little⌠hot.âÂ
âThat makes two of us.âÂ
It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didnât expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face.Â
âThatâs funny.â You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but donât kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest.Â
He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isnât your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard.Â
They arenât rough kisses, but thereâs something desperate there. He holds you to him until he canât, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady.Â
âI canât believe I nearly lost you,â he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply.Â
You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didnât nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, youâd have to be something worth losing, and youâre not sure you are, but Aaron?Â
âI donât think you could,â you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you.Â
âI have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.âÂ
His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest.Â
You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. Heâs here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. Thatâs all he cares about.Â
âWant me to do that thing you like?â you offer softly, mildly playful.Â
He laughs into your neck. âNo,â he says, âI think tonight is about you, hm? Youâre all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.âÂ
You knew heâd like the white babydoll.Â
ËËË âĄ ËËË
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst
You donât have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just canât stop thinking about what wouldâve happened if KĂśnig wasnât there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own
(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)
Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results
The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that⌠more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill
Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia
Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in
Just so many options and flavours of angst
Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you donât have to engage with this, so please donât feel pressured!! Iâm just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos
WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS
Because imagine clinging to KĂśnig, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.
You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; KĂśnig was simply busy, he wasnât growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasnât changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but thatâs okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.
Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didnât seem to despise you.
When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.
Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish⌠the best for you.
KĂśnig leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.
After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.
Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.
One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.
The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.
The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadnât the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.
Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting itâs weeks since theyâd helped you with anything.
John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didnât matter- that you were retreating because youâd finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.
Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasnât his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.
Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadnât cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?
Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.
In the end, itâs Kyle who couldnât stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.
The sight stopped him cold.
The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.
You didnât even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didnât notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.
(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)
#noona.asks#cod x reader#cod#cod x you#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#tf 141 x you#cod imagines#john price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz x you#kyle gaz x reader#gaz x reader#gaz x you#johnny soap mctavish x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#soap x you#soap x reader#poly!141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly!141#poly 141#cod imagine
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I feel like Cregan and his wife do a TON of simple intimacies. Wolfmans love language is all of them. He is stupidly whipped for his lovely and EVERYONE knows. Wife taking a bath? Cregan is in the bath with her just because he loves the intimacy of it (even if it doesnât turn into spicy time which it definitely has) Wife getting undressed for the day? Cregan is on his knees undoing her boots and will help with her dress strings just because he loves to touch her. Mention something she likes at the market? Itâs wrapped in a pretty bow that night on her dresser. Cregan feels his lovely getting insecure? Not on his watch! That man worships the ground his wife walks on and you cannot say otherwise.
PREACH!!! đŁď¸
.......................................................
Cregan finished the last letter, happy to throw his quill on the desk and be done with his work. His eyes trailed over to his wife.
He had talked her into bathing in his solar so the two could spend time together, even if completing different tasks. It was not the first time they had done so, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.Â
He stood up and stretched, carefully following along with the story she was telling, her head leaned back against the copper rim of the tub and her eyes closed.
He shrugged off his clothing, piece by piece, throwing it all over his desk with no care.Â
"-And then?" He hummed when she went quiet.
Her head tilted, but her eyes stayed closed. "Mmm, there was something else. Can't remember."
"Strange to forget the middle of a nightmare, hm?" He asked as he pulled the last of his clothing off.
"Well, only the end of it was bad," she said with a hushed tone. Cregan's hand came to her shoulder, and she naturally sat up, leaning forward on instinct. He'd wash her on occasion, and she assumed he'd do so again.Â
"Move forward," he muttered lightly as she continued to speak about her nightmare. She did so without much thought.Â
"And it was Winterfell, but it didn't look like it. It had the same stones and the snow but-" she paused, her eyes finally opening and her head turning to the side. "-What are you doing?"
His leg had entered the tub, the other one following. He said nothing as he lowered his body into the tub behind his wife.
She turned her body just enough to see him. "Cregan! There's not enough room!" She giggled.
As he settled into the tub, he pulled her up onto his lap. He held her close and let his hands run up and down her sides. "Seems to be enough room," his low voice murmured into her ear.
She got comfortable against him. A content sigh escaping her.
"Now," he said with a kiss to her head, "continue telling me about this nightmare of yours."
âŚ
The moment she began to tug at the laces of her dress, Cregan watched. His eyes stayed on her, looking for a way to assist her.Â
He made a quick decision, the mighty northern lord dropping to his knees in front of her and unlacing his wife's boots.
She held her skirt up for him. "Cregan, you don't have t-"
"-Quiet," he softly reprimanded. He made no motion to stop. His hand occasionally came up to brush his hair back when it fell into his face.
With the boots unlaced, he ran a hand up her left leg, forcing her to bend at the knee and lift her leg up. He gently pulled the boot off, leaving a kiss on her shin once he had done so, then repeated it all with the other leg.
Her skirt fell back into place, but Cregan stayed. His head tipped back to admire the woman in front of him. His hands now came to her hips and he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on her stomach.
âŚ
She entered their chamber, feeling exhausted from their day travels. They had spent hours outside of Winterfell at the market, connecting with the people of the north.
Now it was all setting in, the exhaustion, the weariness. She groaned lightly as she shut the door, going to the bed without undressing.
On the furs laid a small package, wrapped carefully with a parchment. It was unmarked but clearly placed with intention. She hesitated but decided to discover the contents of such a mysterious thing.
Taking extra caution to no tear the paper, she unwrapped it with anticipation. The last fold of paper was lifted.
The beads from the market.
The two Starks moved down the pathway of the busy market road. Across from them was an older woman, the vendor of a small collection. On her table laid various ribbons and beads, all created by her.
Most walked by without much thought. The beads were carved by shaky hands and the art showed it.
But it caught the attention of the Lady of Winterfell. As if pulled to it, she crossed the busy walkway, going to the table.Â
She had fallen in love with a few of the beads, admiring them fully and telling the woman how wonderful she thought them.Â
Cregan soon stepped behind her. "You like them?" He whispered to her.
She looked at him, a hopeful look in her eye. "They're beautiful."
Cregan didn't know much about the commodities of women, but he followed along with what he could. "Aye," he agreed along with her. "You can have them."
A smile pulled at her lips, but the look in her eyes died down quickly. "I have enough," she remarked.Â
He had high doubts that that was the reason for her sudden decision. He sighed, "But you seem to like them."
"I do-"
Cregan pulled a few coins out and forced them into her hand. "Then get them," he smiled at her, hoping to encourage her.
She looked down at the coins and stepped around the table to speak closely to the woman.Â
Cregan gave them privacy, standing as a guard dog amidst the crowd.
She soon returned with a small smile, not nearly the one he was hoping she'd have.
"Well?" He asked, ready to see her decision on which beads she had chosen.
"I have enough," she repeated, giving one last small smile and moving to the next table.
It wasn't hard for Cregan to piece together that she had given the older woman the money with nothing in return, and it made his heart swell.
Her fingers brushed over the beads, overjoyed that he had managed to get the ones she had loved so dearly.
And though he had done something so kind, he never mentioned it. Only once did he even acknowledge it and it was the first time she had worn them in her hair. He remarked a soft, "how pretty," and twirled the strand in his fingers, before moving on like nothing happened.
That's just the kind of man Cregan was.
................................................
#fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfiction#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x you#game of thrones imagine#cregan stark x y/n#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones x y/n#game of thrones x reader#cregan stark imagine#cregan fanfiction#cregan x reader#cregan stark#cregan stark fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon fic#hotd fanfic
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ââ đđđđ đđđđ : VI.
content: 2k words ! fem reader, pit fighter!vi, fwb dynamic. this is obviously sapphic. vi tops and she has a strap, rough sÎľx, cunnilingus, spit, slapping (not on the face), usage of petnames like 'princess' and 'baby', a lil angsty and tense, mentions of sÎľx work, p<3rn with plot!!
â . ď˝ĄË âĄ turns out, vi needed a rebound too.
vi is rougher and quieter than usual tonight.
shedding her clothes and pulling on the strap you've left on the bedside table for her, she climbs wordlessly onto your creaky mattress to get to you. you've been laying in bed for hours, all dolled up for her, and she doesn't really even look at youâ it makes your heart sink a little.
you wrap your arms around her anyway, allowing her to touch you, and with a soft sigh, she gives the swell of your chest a kiss, 'hello'.
the pallid light coming through your window outlines her body in pale blue, and her smell invades your senses as she leans into your body, pressing her weight on you.Â
gripping the soft underside of your thighs harshly, digging her nails into your tender skin, she pushes your knees to your chest. "you missed me, princess?"
"mmm, i did." you're looking at her with the most innocent gaze you can muster, eyes wet and lips pouty, and she leans in to give them a kiss just like you want her to. her mouth tastes sour enough of sweat and cheap alcohol to make you winceâ but when she pulls back, you feel a twinge of disappointment that it doesn't last long enough.
fresh out of a fight, she's still full of adrenaline â and wastes no time on foreplay. hooking your legs over those broad shoulders of hers, she spits onto your cunt and gets right to it.Â
her eyes roll halfway back into her head as she slips the strap into your cunt, like she can feel the way your pussy grips it. throwing her head back, she moans hoarsely, in sync with the sweet whine that comes out of your mouth as she rolls her hips into yours, sliding the strap all the way in. "that's a good girl, fuck."
yes. you are a good girl. her good girl.
vi has been coming to you every night or so, for a few months now â and at first it was just a good deal of sex for you both. but lately, you've found yourself less interested in the sex she offers you, and more interested in the woman herself.
your room is dark, like it always is when she comes over, and the harsh pleasure she gives you always turns your mind cloudy â but nothing can sway the watchful gaze you fix onto vi whenever you're in her arms. through half-closed eyes, you count the nicks and bruises that line the base of her throat and her shoulders and arms. the scratches and cuts, redder because she's flushed, drunk and exerting herself.
twelve new marks since last time. you wonder if she won tonight's fight or if she lost. the way she fucks you doesn't make a difference, so you can't tell â what you do know is that she comes to you seeking an escape from frustrations that stem from something unrelated to the fights entirely.Â
and whatever it is, it frustrates her a lot.
she seems especially bothered tonight. you try to hold onto her, nails scratching at her muscled back as you struggle to maintain your grip. her pace is dizzying, and her grip on your body doesn't get lighter. she fucks you nearly like she wants you dead. "vi, viâ"
"you're doin' good, baby." she hisses, eyes shut. "g'nna make you cum in a bit, kay? just let me see you take my strap first. pretty thing."
and you take it â like a good girl. how could you not? when she acts like she's ravenous about you? when, with how she puts those dead eyes and calloused hands and busted lips on you, she makes you feel something no one else ever has?
she looks so good, too â so hot, with the dark hair, the ashy streaks running down her face, the lipstick smudged down her bottom lip that's just slightly fuller than her top lip â and the muscles, god.
her tits aren't nearly big enough to hang in your face while she's on top, but they bounce a little with each snap of her hips, and the sight mesmerizes you. she laughs softly when your pussy squelches for her â and it makes your heart flutter. fuck. you might just be in love with this ghost of a woman. "vi, please."
"you like that?" she hums, landing a kiss on the side of your knee that leaves a bit of lipstick stained on your skin. "y'like it when i fuck you to bits?"
"mhm," you choke out, keeping your eyes on her so you don't miss it when she looks at you. "wanna cum, make me cum, please."
the strap slides out of you as smoothly as it slid in â and heat rises to your cheeks when vi stares at how your cunt clenches around nothing. "can't say no to you when you ask so nicely." she reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, giving you that half-smile that makes your heart twist just as much as your gut.
"look at you." she lowers her face to your chest, lips tracing kisses downward. one hand comes up to squeeze at your tits, soft and sharp at the same time, index finger and thumb teasing your nipple and making you keen. "pretty, pretty thing."
she nudges your legs apart, getting comfortable between them. her other hand toys with your cunt, middle and ring finger slowly coaxing their way into your hole like she's learning to be gentle now. your body tenses with anticipation, feeling the way her lips get closer and closer to where you want them to go. "ngh. justâplease."
the first flick of her tongue on your clit makes you gasp, body rocking in reactionâ and vi slaps your thigh. "shhh," is all she says, but it makes you behave. she spreads your pussy open with her fingers like it's a flower, and takes you whole.
the wet sounds of a mouth on a cunt fill your shoddy little room, and you moan and shudder in vi's arms, caged in her hold as she draws the orgasm out of you.
and she does it so quickly, having learned what touches of her tongue your clit likes best, how you like having her fingers, when to add the extra tug to your nipples. she makes you go insane so easily.
like she took the time to figure out how to do it. like she cared enough to do that. like she might just lâ
the white-hot rush of pleasure hits you, and all your thoughts dissipate. you grab vi's hair, digging your fingers into the dyed locks, keeping her face where you want it. "mmm, fuck, just like thatâvi, just like that, pleaseâ"
she slaps your thigh again, but you relent only slightly. she licks up your slick, adjusting her position so she can fuck you better with her fingers, and you tremble under her as she curls her digits into your sweetest spots, wave after wave of bliss washing over you with each touch. the bed creaks like the weak boards under your mattress might snap, but you don't even hear it. "god."
once you're not shaking so much anymore, the high peaking and falling past, she comes up and kisses you â and you know your face and body are full of inky lipstick marks by now. it's almost romantic.
then, it's over.
vi pulls away, letting go of you and sitting up.
"ugh." you slump into the bed, hiding the pang of hurt that fills you. "you . . . don't want me to do you? or . . get you a drink?"
"not tonight. think i'm wasted enough." vi wipes her mouth off, stretching her neck to one side till there's a pop â and gets off the bed. you notice how her lips are entirely clean of the onyx that they were. "hey, you sure you don't want me to pay you?"
and there it is. the moment of intimacy dissolves like a grain of sugar into the vastness of the sea. it's home time.
"no, it's fine." you wave her off, turning away. you watch discreetly through your mirror as she looks around at the little box you live in.
"are you sure? . . i can cough something up." she asks again, and though you're slightly offended, you know what she means. your place is a single room that's barely a six by ten, small rickety bed and a desk with the mirror, a rack for the few clothes you own, and nothing else really. you share a bathroom and kitchen with two other girls across the street. and you have vi each night.
you need nothing else. "yeah, i'm good. and i don't do that anymore, anyway." you tell her.
"alright." vi pulls her clothes back on, and you're just a little sad to see her body covered away again. you did love getting your eyefuls of those slight curves and sleek muscles, and the tatts. "why'd you stop, though? working, i mean."
you think of how you used to feel, seeing clients and letting them fawn over you for the night. handing you a wad of cash and walking out at the end of it. back then, it was what you neededâ but the moment you didn't need it anymore, youâd signed out.
you'd only agreed to hook up with vi because it seemed harmless enough. made your nights a little less lonelier, gave you some company. you hadnât expected money or to catch feelings.
the answer to her question rises up your throat, but you find it a bit ironic â and you know vi is a good person. if she finds out that you're yearning for more than what's between you two at the moment, she may just see herself out of your life, so as to not hurt you. and you didn't want that. you wanted vi, even if it was only like this.
the real answer to her question rests at the base of your throat like an ache, throbbing a little along with the parts of your body vi had gripped a little too harshly. i didn't like to feel used.
but you shrug your shoulders and say, "well, i just didn't need it anymore."
vi doesn't answer, only turns to leave. "will you come tomorrow?" you ask, trying not to sound like you want her to come.
"probably." vi answers, out of the door already. "stay safe, princess." then she's gone, and you're alone again.
the dreary darkness of your room surrounds you once more, and you feel hot and sticky. ignoring the discomfort, you slump into your bed again, realizing how painfully little you know about vi. yes, she's jinx's older sister. yes, she's nothing like her. yes, she's beautiful â handsome; ghost-pale, dark red roots showing through the dyed black hair, sad eyes lit up with need.
you loved those nights when she would let you reciprocate and make her feel good. when she would ask for a drink or two. when she would ask to stay the night, and you'd let her sleep on your chest. she wrapped her arms around your body then, holding you both like she's protecting you and like she wants you to keep her safe. and you'd hold her, stroke her hair, and stay awake praying the morning comes late.
and then there are nights like tonight â where she's quieter and more distant. where she leaves too soon. like she's holding herself back. it infuriates you, almost. you want to ask her what she wants. you want to tell her what you want.
shifting your stare from the ceiling to your door that hangs ajar, you let out a heavy sigh. next time, maybe you'll ask her. maybe you'll tell her. maybe. if the surge of body-and-mind desperation to make the moment last long enough doesn't overthrow everything else, you will. but you know it'll be easier said than done.
vi melts you like shaved ice in the sun. she softens you, turns you sweet. you feel alive with those dead eyes, calloused hands and busted lips on you. being wanted by her gives you a sense of meaning. and you'll do anything if it means holding her a little longer.Â
if that meant this, simply getting to be her good girl for a night and nothing more â then so be it.
a/n: part two, anyone? lmk if you want it, might turn this into a series :Pđ
#âËପ⹠REKHAâ˘.#âËପ⹠NYCHTA.#howw do i tag this#arcane x reader#arcane smut#vi arcane#vi x reader#vi smut#vi arcane smut#vi arcane x reader#vi x you#vi x y/n#vi x fem reader#vi league of legends#arcane league of legends#arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane s2#arcane season 2#arcane fanfiction#league of legends smut#league of legends x reader
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â INSECURITIES THEY ADORE . . ěíě´í âď¸
pairing, enhypen Ă afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s) word count, 50â60 each . . . note, these are not things âiâ consider as insecurities but rather things that âmostâ people do and in no way am i shaming anyone. [LIBRARY]
. , LEE HEESEUNG âď¸ ě´íŹěš !
SCARS / BIRTHMARKS : Heeseung never minded your scars or birthmarks. If your birthmarks were in the right spots, he'd gently kiss them, seeing them as unique to you. As for your scars, he viewed them as part of who you areâsymbols of strength and resilience. To him, they only made you more beautiful, and he'd never want you to feel self-conscious about them.
. , PARK JONGSEONG âď¸ ë°ě˘
ěą !
BODY HAIR : Jay really doesnât mind body hair at all. There are moments when you mention being too busy to shave, and heâll simply wave it off, telling you itâs not a big dealâunless itâs for a special event. After all, why feel awkward about body hair when youâre at home? He loves you just the way you are.
. , SIM JAEYUN âď¸ ěŹěŹě¤ !
WEIGHT FLUCTUATIONS : Jake wouldnât even pay attention to any weight changes unless you pointed it out. If you ever bring up feeling too skinny or a bit chubby, heâd just smile and say, âAs long as I can hold you and feel at home, youâre perfect.â Heâs not hesitant to show you off to his friends because, to him, youâre beautiful just as you are.
. , PARK SUNGHOON âď¸ ë°ěąí !
THIN / THICK LIPS : Sunghoon is genuinely obsessed with your lips and his heart aches whenever you mention them being too thin or too thick. He doesn't quite understand it, but he makes it his mission to compliment them after every kiss, hoping to make you feel more secure. To him, your lips are perfect, and he treasures every kiss.
. , KIM SUNOO âď¸ ęšěë !
ACNE / FRECKLES : Sunoo has always thought you were beautiful, acne or freckles included. While heâs happy to help with skincare, itâs not because he thinks your acne needs to disappearâhe just wants you to feel your best. He genuinely doesnât mind being seen with you just the way you are, because to him, youâre perfect.
. , YANG JUNGWON âď¸ ěě ě !
UNEVEN SMILE / CROOKED TEETH : Jungwon loves seeing you smile or laugh, even if your smile wasnât perfectly even or your teeth a little crooked. Whenever you tried to cover it, heâd gently push your hand away, just so he could see your genuine smile. Over time, he made you forget that it was ever an insecurity to begin with.
. , NISHIMURA RIKI âď¸ ëŚŹí¤ !
SHORT HEIGHT : Niki knew people often felt insecure standing next to him because of his height, but when it came to you, his height made you feel even smaller. If reassurance didnât help, heâd avoid standing close, not out of embarrassment, but to avoid others pointing it out. Truthfully, he didnât care about your heightâhe could always scoop you up in his arms.
Š senascoop | tumblr
#đŽenaâs đ˛orks âď¸#enhypen imagines#enhypen#enhypen reactions#enhypen fluff#enhypen Ă reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen headcanons#enhypen smut#enhypen x you#enha imagines#enhypen drabbles#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x reader#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop smut#kpop fluff#kpop soft hours#enhypen soft hours#enhypen soft thoughts#heeseung x reader#heeseung fluff#heeseung scenarios#enhypen jay#jay x reader#jay fluff#jake fluff
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Sub!Viktor x Reader
content warnings: NSFW, choking & edging (Viktor receiving), oral (reader receiving), he whines until you sit on his face basically.
very romantic and intimate despite a person literally being choked but yk its rly not my fault, it's his. [established relationship]
word count: ~1.5k
"You're being too loud Vik...can't keep it down hm?"
"Please....if we get another noise complaint I'm never ever gonna forgive you." he begs as you pause to let him talk.
It's an empty threat, but you need to take some accountability for your cruelty. You've been toying with him for ages at this point, reducing him to surprised yelps and desperate whines that are truly a symphony to your ears. To your neighbors? Not so much.
And you're everything if not merciful. Depending on who's asked of course.
You place your thumb across his chapped lips and dip the soft pad of your finger inside, dragging it gently across his teeth and gums before he gives you an appreciative hum, opening his mouth and nestling his tongue in place.
The adoration in your eyes is beautifully suffocating, his hips trashing against your other hand, chasing it, running away from it...all at once. He has been at your will for this whole night. He might die...at least that's how it feels.
You start up again, with no rush, often stopping to glide your hand and mouth across his freckled skin, soothing his trembles with sweet and mellow words whispered into his ear.
He feels...indecent. Drooling around your hand like that, muffling his moans with your thumb, biting and nibbling on it. You just sway it with the eager suckles of his tongue, sometimes even pressing on it firmly, letting his mouth hang open, spit smearing across his face.
He's teary eyed, overwhelmed yet hungry. Your voice pelts off of his sensitive neck...trails down his spine and spreads through his ribcage.
Warmth swirls inside his stomach, and for a moment it's scorching hot until he himself melts with it, pushing your pruney finger to the corner of his lips...he whines.
His face falls to the crook of your neck, burying itself there. You carefully lace your fingers through his soft hair, your pace on him just a fraction quicker.
You place a kiss to the shell of his ear, nuzzling the side of his head.
"You're right there aren't you...Need a little more?" you ask, your voice laced with affection, your movements consistent and precise.
"No-ah, no...just like this. Please...please just..." you nod, shuddering at the gentle bite on your shoulder.
"Allright, I've got you. Whatever you need..."
"Keep talkinghh."
It's a bossy demand, muffled because it's quickly cut off by another bite into your skin. The sunlight that peeks through the blinds paints his pale body in liquid gold, a pretty shade a fraction lighter than his eyes.
"You're so precious to me Vik...made for me are you not?" You can feel him throb, you can feel the heat of his body...ears dusted red, fingertips scraping down your back. Your heart hammers in your chest, anticipation building as you watch him.
"Show me how beautiful you are for me...Can you do that?" you ask in that honeyed voice of yours, raspy with your own greedy desire.
You tug on his hair, and he lets you pull him out of his hiding, your faces now close. He can feel your breath tickling his face.
"Let me see..." and when you ask so nicely, so honestly...how can he deny you anything, how can he doubt anything when the emotions that surge through him as your eyes lock leave no room for such a silly thing.
So he lets himself unfold, lets you see him in his most vulnerable, eyes clouded with unshed tears, brows furrowed and mouth agape.
You place your hand on his bared throat, squeezing around it, firm and practiced, holding it there until his eyes become slightly unfocused and wide.
He falls apart for you, gasping and chocking up on his words as he starts spilling onto your hand, curling in on himself in ways he can't be convinced are attractive.
"Yes precious, just like that, don't be shy" you encourage, letting him fuck your hand thoroughly, giving every last ounce of his strength to you, for you.
You let go of his throat then, just a second before he's about to tap your wrist.
He has to slap his hand over his mouth instead, and then the other, shuddering and crying into it as he rides out the last waves of his release, his tummy clenching and flexing as his whole torso heaves.
"You're fucking perfect..." you mumble, as if in trance with every tremble of his lithe body.
He finally stills, now fighting for air and clutching at his chest as he urges himself to calm his breathing down. You sooth him, moving your hand to pet at his back, quickly wiping the other before using it to push the strands of sticky hair out of his face.
His ears are buzzing for a moment, before he finally sighs and then gulps a big breath. He tries to speak up but his sore throat doesn't let him, voice cracking.
"Do you need a drink? Or do you need to cough? Please don't be embarrassed" you say this as you pet his cheek, searching his face.
He shakes his head no before he clears the lump from his throat, finding his voice again.
"No...I'm allright , thank you." he gets off of your lap slowly, stretching his legs before repositioning himself on the pillows, pulling you by the hand to follow him.
When you crawl with him...on top of him, he has to swallow dryly again, eyes eagerly eating at you, at every curve of your body that he hasn't seen for a hot second there.
"You have a way with words dear..." he complains, smoothing his palms over your hips.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Makes me feel all exposed...It's not fair...Especially when you don't give me a fighting chance."
You hum.
"Outside of this, you're the more eloquent one, I think the dynamic is quite balanced"
"Hmh...If you say so." he pretends to glance away, but his arm wraps around the small of your back, making you sit higher on his chest.
"Maybe my words are excessive in this part of our 'dynamic'...l have other redeeming qualities I hope."
You chuckle, looking down at him, his dark, hungry eyes piercing yours, cheeks still a tiny bit flushed under your attention.
"Absolutely..." you confirm, yet you refuse to fall under the faint pressure of his arm on your back.
You are playing coy, and his mouth is already salivating. How cruel.
He rolls his eyes, scoffing.
"Let me show you anywaysâŚâ he says, soft yet bashful.
"Maybe if you say please one more time for me, I'll indulge"
"I think I begged enough, no?" he concurs, spreading his hands over your thighs, squeezing briefly before he slides a skilled hand between your legs. He spreads your soaked folds apart, marveling at the sheer amount of wetness that leathers his palm.
"Gave you everything you asked for...let you ruin me however you desired..." he trails off, slowly becoming a tiny bit frustrated.
You stammer as his long fingers easily glide inside you with little to no resistance. Your clit throbs as he bends to give it a quick, wet kiss, peering up at you expectantly as he fills you with slow, deep strokes.
"Come here.â he whispers, adjusting himself under you, a firm arm pulling you down on his pretty face. You let him.
There's a sigh of gratification at the first thick taste he swallows down, coating his throat with you, tongue nestled in with his digits and then he laps.
Loud and filthy. Like you've starved him for months.
You admit defeat, grabbing at the roots of his messy hair with your hand.
You bear down against his mouth, nice and slow until you have almost all of your weight on him. Just how you know he craves it.
His lashes flutter and his eyes roll to the back of his head, legs bending at the knees.
A stifled hiss comes from under you and then a barely coherent blasphemy reaches your ears.
"Ushg my face. PleahseâŚ"
And how can one refuse...
Posts this draft and runs đââď¸ââĄď¸
Might make a sequel if I get bullied enough. But i might not resist smushing my man jayce in here. Thread carefully.
Hope you enjoyed. MwahđŠľ
#arcane#viktor x reader#viktor machine herald#viktor league of legends#viktor arcane#viktor lol#viktor nation#i offer you sub viktor as god intended him to be#jayce x viktor
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serpent hybrid hyunjin 2 đąđ
his venom doesn't have the effects to kill you, instead you find your body craving for him...and his eggs
@seo--changbin gave me brainrot
reblogging > liking
part 1
-contains mature themes (idk wtf possessed me while thinking of breeding and monster cocks aaaa)
its been a while since changbin's come over to your apartment. the rabbit hybrid had grown buffer. stronger, with his muscles quite literally bulging from his armsleeves.
hyunjin and him being the best of friends. an unusual friendship between a serpent and his prey.
lithe and tall versus buff and small.
you couldn't help but ogle at bin's wide upper body, sipping on some tea while you listened to their conversation.
it only lasts for a few minutes, and you stare at hyunjin. taking in the sight of your boyfriend. his scales shining under the light. the newly grown scales on his collarbones giving him a sleeker appearance.
you gulped, watching his long slender tail swish around mindlessly on the floor. eyes wandering to the way he sat on the couch.
legs parted and maybe...just maybe you could see the outline of his length. well his 'lengths'. mentally slapping yourself as you tried to look away.
"hyun...need your help" you say, already going to the kitchen. smiling at changbin. hearing hyunjin saunter into the other room without even questioning why you were calling him there.
"you look too handsome. kiss me."
grabbing his collar, pulling him down to kiss you. a surprised noise leaving him but he laughs. giving you a firm kiss.
"should we buy some pizza for dinn-"
you cut him off, with another kiss. looping your arms around his neck to jump on him. he holds you up, groaning at the sudden eagerness.
firmly squeezing your thighs. pulling away to press a palm over your mouth.
"whats up with you?" he cocks an eyebrow. truly confused with your behaviour.
you bring your hands up to touch his lips. poking his canines. they had grown longer, much sharper.
"not now. later." he lets out. and you feel your mind shut off with how sternly he warns you. whining into his neck.
its only when bin leaves that you realise why you're feeling so desperate.
were you ovulating?
was it just him being hot?
a part of you wondered if it was because he playfully bit you in the morning?
"come here." hyunjin calls out after an hour. finding you sprawled out on the bed with no thoughts in your brain.
standing at the edge of the bed, with his hands on his hips.
"i think you made me horny..." you mumble, staring at the ceiling. lower abdomen burning with want.
he hisses softly.
"this is not normal horny...this is horny on another level..."
glancing at him and you close your thighs. panties soaked. every part of your body screaming for him.
"is it cause i bit you?" hyunjin asks.
his tail wrapping around your ankle casually. and he pulls you closer to him. the display of strength leaving you breathless.
"you're a black mamba. shouldn't i die if you inject me with venom?" you whisper, unconciously spreading your legs apart.
watching as his eyes go down to your panties. the shirt you had on was his.
"so you're saying my venom is actually a 'fuck me please' aphrosidiac ?" hyunjin lets out, letting his finger prod over your panties. feeling how wet you were getting.
"hyun....give it to me"
"give what to you, baby?"
"give me it all"
"what all do you mean, sweetheart?"
"your babies...your e-eggs"
and hyunjin chokes on his spit. the grip his tail has on your leg tightens. watching you with a sharp gaze. tongue peeking out every few seconds . tasting the air.
"god, whats wrong with you" and he pulls you closer.
using the tip of his tail to push your panties to the side. hissing at how you're practically dripping. a mess between your thighs.
"h-hyunjinnn"
"mh?" tail slipping and sliding against your slit. bumping into your clit. chuckling at the way your legs close around it. but he continues poking at your cunt.
"hyunjin!" you whine, awkwardly trying to grind onto his appendage. gasping when he forces your legs apart.
the same musky smell filling the room. his tongue growing longer, fangs peeking through.
"fuck. my heat's creeping up on me" he groans, dropping his head down to exhale heavily. his scales appearing more bolder.
"your smell...you smell fucking delicious" and you whimper. watching as he tastes the air, eyes closing.
"are you gonna eat me mister snake?" you tease nervously. squeaking at the expression he makes.
obviously turned on with you acting so hopeless.
a predator and his prey.
.
.
.
writhing at the mere slide of his girth against your insides. bumps on his length hooking onto your walls.
forcing him to thrust into you with short movements. gripping your thighs with clawed fingers. leaving his marks on your body.
"yeah? i don't usually fuck my prey before eating them whole" the serpent grunts.
a long hiss slipping past his lips. throwing his head back at the feeling of your cunt pulling him in. squeezing his dicks and coating them with arousal.
"h-hyun" you cry, body overheating with how much you wanted. this wasn't enough. you needed to feel him in your cervix.
this wasn't how you'd act. was it really his venom?
"shhh~" as he sits on his haunches. fucking into you harder. his pupils turning into pretty slits. taking in the sight of your body reacting so well to him.
shivering when he places a claw on your breastbone. gently sliding it down to where your uterus would be. and he draws slow circles over the skin.
"want me here, don't you~" and you nod aggressively, not expecting him to slide his finger lower.
placing the pad of his calloused finger over your clit gently. his thrusts having you slide up on the bed and back down.
"you'll take my eggs like a good mate would, won't you, my precious.."
gathering your slick and pinching at your swollen bundle of nerves.
grinning lazily when you let out a little scream. squirming at his tortorous teasing. cooeing as you beg for him.
hands flying down to weakly hold onto his wrist. but he's strong and only flicks your clit meanly.
.
.
.
to say its a weird sensation is an understatement. his hand intertwined with yours, calming you down as one of his dick throbs.
stuffed so deep inside you that when you feel the first egg, its another sensation of fullness.
filling you with more cum while he pumps another into you. maybe soft shelled eggs weren't that bad.
the third egg, however makes you whine at the stretch. a tinge of discomfort.
gasping at how his tail seems to have a mind of its own. wrapping around your ankle and quite literally spreading your legs apart. hooking your left leg over his shoulder.
"m'here. f-fuck taking me so well" hyunjin praises. pressing down on your lower abdomen. revellling in the way you keep it in.
"no venom for you next time" he chuckles, and you breath heavily. overwhelmed with everything. body buzzing with pure pleasure and satisfaction.
"m-more" you tease. laughing at how his eyes widen. going back to normal.
"MORE?!"
.
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.
.
.
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.
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plz i love snakie hyunnie so much. its an obsession at this point. soft serpent hyunnie drabble coming soon hopefullyyyy
#serpent hyunjin#snake hybrid hyunjin#snake hyunjin#stray kids hybrids#stray kids hybrid#stray kids hybrid au#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz drabbles#stray kids headcanons#skz x reader#hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin imagines#snake hybrid ! hyunjin#dom hyunjin#bang chan smut#lee minho smut#FUCK I LOVE SNAKE HYUNJIN SO MUCH#fluffylino works#fluffylino's masterlist#fluffylino's favourites âď¸#stray kids monster#fucking?!?!??!?!#hyunjin big dick AAAAA
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BODY ELECTRIC ËË íŹë°íŹ
â đś đđśđťđ´ đđľđ˛ đŻđźđąđ đ˛đšđ˛đ°đđżđśđ°, đŻđŽđŻđ đ đđđ đđđđđđžđ đđđ˝đžđ đ
đđđđ đđžđşđ˝đźđşđđđđđ!
p ââ¸â¸â¸ íŹë°íŹ đĽ fem!reader ę g ââ¸â¸â¸ headcannons, video links, smut, established relationship ââ dom!txt, sub!reader, mostly unprotected sex, oil / lube, various kinks (breeding & daddy kink hehe), creampies, housewife!reader / traditional gender roles, food play?, some mean & hard dom elements because i truly canât help myself, some roleplay, probably others than iâm missing ⹠⨠đś.list âŠ
âď¸ âŚ never posted twt links before but this was kinda fun lmao ^^ i might post more sometime soon. like maybe an enha (hyung line) one?? hmm⌠not completely sure. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!
Í Í ÍÍ Í ÍÍ Í ÍÍ Í ÍÍÂ Â Í Í  ︾ͥ   đđĄđĄ đđđđđđđđ đđŁđ đ§đđđĄđ¤đđ¨ đđ§đ đŹđđĄđđ¤đ˘đ (ââżâ)âĄ
đź Ë⎠YEONJUN
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â him fucking you so good that your cum just spills out of you. would angle you in a way that didnât let any escape until heâs done with you and filled you up completely. he would start fucking you again just at the sight of how messy he made you, shushing you and telling you how your spent pussy could take another round. 100% has a breeding kink.
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â hates your bad attitude and how he constantly has to fuck the brattiness out of you so you remember your place and whoâs in charge. slaps your ass to make sure youâre listening to him and to punish you for talking back in the first place.
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â like soobin i feel like he would like to use oil too! loves watching how easily his cock slides in your needy pussy and swallows it whole. also loves taking you missionary so he can see your pretty face all twisted up in pleasure!!
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â idk what it is about this but itâs just so yeonjun to me?? would eat you out after to taste the slight bubblegum flavor and then would continue eating the cum-covered lollipop like he wasnât just fucking you with it.
đź Ë⎠SOOBIN
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â would beg you to dress up as his favorite anime and video game characters!! the two of you would roleplay a little before heâs fucking you and filling you up with his hot and sticky cum (>äşş<)
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â loves seeing you in lingerie but hates the fact that it gets in his way!! it makes him too hard and he just wants to fuck the shit out of you without having to pull back straps and lace. definitely would keep on the thigh high stockings tho, itâs his favorite!
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â honestly you should know to not wear short skirts around him⌠immediate hard-on and heâs fucking you against whatever surface is the closest to him. doesnât even care that you were only quickly dropping by to give him something, youâre not leaving for the rest of the day.
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â the type to drench you in oil so he can watch the way you glisten all prettily while getting dumb on his cock!! loves seeing your shiny tits bounce, bonus if you have nipple piercings. i feel like he would be the type to record it all so he can get off to it again later. cowgirl is for sure his favorite position for you!!
đź Ë⎠BEOMGYU
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â interrupting him playing his game was a bad idea⌠of course heâs gonna bend you over his gaming chair and fuck you. leaves his mic on and letâs all his discord friends hear how much of a slut you are. (/Ďďźź)
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â love love loves sitting back and having you fuck yourself on him. gets off to your pretty little moans and the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â cuddling with him always turns into you feeling his bulge against your ass, to him sliding his cock inside of you âi just need to feel you,â to him pulling your hips towards his so that he can fuck you. youâre constantly sticky with his cum!!
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â this. definitely how most of your nights would go when youâre super horny for him. would laugh in your ear at your whines for his cock and would tell you to get yourself off on his thigh or bulge instead.
đź Ë⎠TAEHYUN
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â you begging him to fuck you without the condom on,,, heâs always so careful and you just need to feel him inside you completely, feel the way his thick load fills you up and drips out of you!! you donât want him to pull out âĄ
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â him teasing your needy and wet clothed pussy. just loves how wet he can get you without even sticking his cock inside of you.
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â quick morning fuck before the two of you go to the gym!! you told him âjust the tipâŚâ but you both canât control yourselves! ended up going later that morning hehe
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â his little housewife (âďšâ) you let him do whatever he wants to you whenever he wants. taehyun wants you to suck up off while youâre making dinner? youâre on your knees with his cock shoved down your throat in an instant.
đź Ë⎠HUENINGKAI
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â kai needing you so bad that there isnât even enough time to put his cock in you. would completely miss the mark and end up fucking your thighs instead!! youâd go crazy from only having stimulation at your clit and not where you need him the most. would leave your thighs covered with his cum while he bends you over for more. this video as well hehe
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â so needy while heâs trying to practice. his long fingers arenât enough so now he his to fuck you with his cock too⌠definitely didnât finish practicing after this >///<
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â would always have you sitting on his face. watching a movie? he can eat you out like a starved man and watch the movie at the same time. always wants to be pleasing you in some type of way.
ĘŹĘŹĘŹ â youâd be a good girl for daddy and let him fuck your wet pussy right? so wet that kaiâs big cock keeps slipping right out!! loves hearing your moans and repeatedly asks you how much you like daddyâs cock. loves how you beg him to put it back in and fuck you deeper.
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Sometimes the name doesn't matter
synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3
pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)
tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part
word count: 6.1k+ words
a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!
Childe
Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like itâll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover couldâve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldnât have been so romantic.
Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.
âOh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow couldâve ended up on our heads.â
You giggle at the young manâs comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.
Now itâs hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.
âA little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,â he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. âI canât wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothersâŚâ
You know heâs written them a letter right after you said âyesâ to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldnât sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.
âI canât wait for that too,â you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. âBut I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that itâs me who you are going to marry?â
âAbsolutely!â He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. âThey all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.â
âWait, really? Why didnât you tell me?â
âBecause I was already planning a proposal at the time - didnât want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.â
Itâs hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsaâs Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know heâs built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.
âThen I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.â
You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritasâs soldier, Childe⌠But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.
His parentsâ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.
âBig brother is home, big brother is home!â
Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms.Â
Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.
âMother, my clothes might be cold,â you try to warn her, but she doesnât listen, hugging you anyway.
âAs if it can affect me! Oh, Iâm so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? Iâm almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.
âItâs very kind of you,â you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. âBut I think weâll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajaxâs sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.â
Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess heâs just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.
Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.
âIf it isnât my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!â His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyoneâs attention to you and making you blush. âI knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.â
As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking âshould I be concerned?â. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.
However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a âreally?â kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines âI was the same way with your mom tooâ.
So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.
âHey, foxy, whatâs going on?â
âHm?â He lowers the blanket that heâs just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. âWhat do you mean, bunny?â
âWhatever youâve been doing,â you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase.Â
âAnd whatâs that âwhateverâ Iâve been doing?â You donât miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.
âI donât know. You tell me.â
The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.
âNothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.â
âPractice?â Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. âWait, did you start planning something for the wedding?â
âNot quite. Rather for after it.â
Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.
âSince we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.â
You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesnât go unnoticed by your fiance.
âI shouldâve known youâd pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me âbig sisterâ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the âdaughterâ. It wonât change much.â
âBut it will!â He pouts and you canât resist the urge to pinch his cheek. âYou will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?â
Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really canât deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.
âNo, no, I donât mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.â
âYeah?â Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.
âYeah.â
A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.
âDo you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?â
âAjax, no.â
Nuevillette
âMother, do you mind helping me a little? I canât reach over thereâŚ
âIâd be delighted, my dear.â
Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many âdaughtersâ wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.
âMother is so kind and patient,â Laume says just a step away from Neuvilletteâs chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.
âYes, and she is so beautiful,â the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. âAnd she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothesâŚâ
âMonsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,â a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judexâs chest.
Marriage⌠Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband itâs a long, but welcome trip.
Youâve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more âmortal appropriateâ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.
And it was their initiative to start calling you âmotherâ. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).
However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girlsâ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.
He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences heâd seen a handful of times before.
What really caught Neuvilletteâs eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured âmy dearâ, or âbelovedâ or âmy sweet [Name]â in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.
But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.
"Wife"
Maleâs heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his lifeâŚ
At least thatâs what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvilletteâs head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.
He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from âlizardâ; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph⌠The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.
Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you âhis wifeâ too! Itâs so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.
Humans are truly fascinating.
When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned youâve been waiting for him for a while.
When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.
âNeuvi,â You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, âI hoped weâd depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew Iâd be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped Iâd be on timeâŚâ
As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusineâs words upon arrival: âMother waits insideâ. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.
âOur Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,â you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet âhush, let me be a tiny bit indignantâ. âAnd Iâd be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,â and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, âwife.â
He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.
âWhat was that?â
âWhat was what, dear wife?â
âThis!â As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and itâs Neuvilletteâs lipsâ turn to curl in a small smile.
âItâs something I hoped to discuss with you,â his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. âYou see,â he starts when you sit down, âI am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word âmotherâ the melusines like to call you. Thatâs who you are for them both in reality and in terms. Iâve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use theâŚfamilial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?â
You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if youâŚ
âWill you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!â
Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same
âWith pleasure, wife.â
Pantalone
Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlightsâ, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.
Itâs a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsaâ nationâs nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbingerâs lovers.
Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnayaâs economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. Itâs always someone new, itâs never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired manâs tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.
The Regratorâs companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man.Â
Never the same woman - always the same mask.
This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbingerâs personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesnât realize that once the night is over, sheâs going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.
The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonightâs escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldnât hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.
So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.
Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh?Â
Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time itâs a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.
As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - heâll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say itâs because he is prideful too - he knows itâs because he loves his wife.
Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - âchanging the ladiesâ minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.
Itâs a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves downâŚÂ
âŚto leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.
And what if youâve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isnât it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.
âDid my wife have a pleasant evening?â The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.
âDid she? How could I know?â You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. âAnd donât you know, Mr Harbinger, that itâs very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?â
âOh, I wasnât aware,â he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, âthat my dear wife can be jealous of herself.â
âWhen you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.â
Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.
The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.
Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.
âBut if you must know,â Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, âyour wife loved the evening very much.â
And thatâs everything heâs ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesnât matter. His wife loved another thing heâs done for her. The bankerâs day has ended in a great profit.
Wriothesley
Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Dukeâs office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.
Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath canât sway Wriothesleyâs attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock heâs hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.
Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far youâve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortressâs crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your belovedâs office.
Today, nevertheless, something mustâve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which shouldâve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything couldâve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that mightâve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.
As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortressâs main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing.Â
When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglaneâs desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.
Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if theyâve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.
With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, heâs missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because heâs forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.
He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits heâs tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.
Your husbandâs legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path.Â
He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.
âNo, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.
âBut you are saying the same thing!"
"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."
"Slower, please."
In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that heâd passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thingâŚ
âDid you make sure to write my name with two Nâs?â Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he canât see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.
âYes, mademoiselle, I did.â
âWonderful, but itâs âmadameâ, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,â Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else heâll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.
âAnd your last name, madame?â
âI am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de TroistĂŞtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?â
Yes, he really should stop you.
Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.
âO-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!â The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.
âAt ease, young man,â Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. âWhat is going on here?â
âNothing much, Mr Warden,â your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the manâs lips turn into a small smile. âJust a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.â
âM-madame!â The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. âEven if it's not your first stay here, you shouldnât be taking liberties with the Duke!â
âNo, no, itâs alright,â Wriothesley raises his hand. âShe is no longer your headache-â
âHey!â You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesnât even reach for his weapon.
â-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? Itâs not her name.â
âItâs not..?â Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.
âItâs not. But,â a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, âbe sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. Youâll need that to let her in and out.â
â...out?â
âYes, indeed. This woman is my wife.â
As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.
âAre you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?â
âOh, for sure,â strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, âI bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?â
âWell⌠I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he wouldâve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, itâs good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.â
At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#childe x reader#childe x fem!reader#tartaglia x reader#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x fem!reader#pantalone x reader#pantalone x fem!reader#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x fem!reader#childe#tartaglia#neuvillette#pantalone#wriothesley#genshin impact fluff
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sevika lowkey wants to wife you up (nsfw, strap (r! receiving), biting, also really sweet, mama being mama đ¤ˇđžââď¸)
sevikaâs been coming to the brothel just to see you for the last six months, coming to see you like every 3 days and you two spend an amazing time together. itâs not always sex either; it started off that way but you guys really connected.
sevikaâs been wanting to ask you to quit your job and let her take care of you but she hasnât asked yet. youâve been talking about quitting your job because your hearts just not in it anymore and its effecting your mood.
when sevika finally comes visit you after almost a whole week of not seeing you, sheâs ready to finally ask you.
she waits patiently for you to come into the room that you two frequent the most, she watches as you face lights up at seeing her she stands as you approach her with a grin and your arms open, âsev!â you jump into her arms and she holds you tight. âhey princess,â she places you down on the bed, kneeling inbetween your legs as you look down at her with a softer smile.
âwhy havenât you come see me?â you ask quietly, running your fingers through her hair. âi was busy,â she says plucking your shoes off your feet. âya missed me?â she smirks up at you leaning closer to your face.
âi thought you werenât coming backâŚâ you gaze into her eyes then at her lips. sevika doesnât respond right away, she sees how much you believed that and she just canât have that. she leans in to kiss you, pushing you to lay down. she straddles your waist pulling her cape off while your hands cup her face. you moan feeling the weight of her on you, she pulls away from you. âletâs take this off baby,â she pulls at your flimsy dress and you sit up so she can pull it over your head.
still straddling your now naked body, she kisses down your neck biting at your collarbone. you suck in a breath at the pain. she continues kissing and biting you up, leaving marks while she situates herself between your legs. clients arenât allowed to mark up the girls but sevika has no intention of letting you stay here after tonight.
she kisses your lips again biting your lip as she grinds into you. you let out a sigh at the strap in her pants thatâs rubbing against you. âsev, donât tease, take it out,â your hand trails inbetween your bodies trying to reach into her pants. sevika kneels over you, âso impatient,â she responds pulling her top and sticky pants off. you bite your lip, gazing up at her large, naked form. you sit up to press fevered kisses inbetween her breast.
she grabs your chin pulling you away from her hot skin, âon your knees.â you giggle, immediately turning on your knees and arching your ass in the air. sevikaâs hands are placed on your ass but you shudder at the cold metal that shes been avoiding touching you with. she parts your lower lips smirking at the sticky mess thatâs dripping down your thighs. she presses the tip to your entrance running it up and down your slit, making you push your hips back with a whimper before finally pushing into you.
your mouth falls open she starts a slow but deep pace. you let out gasps and moans as you feel sevika going deeper with every thrust and it only intensifies when she speeds up, âoh-ohmygosh sevvy,â you canât handle all the wet sounds of your cunt swallowing up her strap, you reach your hand around to grab on to the hand thatâs holding your waist and her cold one trails down your back, making you arch more before she grabs your hair pulling it as her hips snap against yours.
âhow does it feel?â she bends to whisper in your ear. your brain is mush as moan out with drool dripping down your chin, you try to nod your head but sevikaâs holding your head still with her grip. sheâs stopped moving her hips with the strap sitting snug in your pulsing cunt. âwords, baby.â
âyes yess, i-i love it mama,â you let out before sevika presses a kiss to your temple. âya wanna quit ya job baby?â you turn ya head to look at her now that sheâs back to kneeling, you nod your head with tears of pleasure forming in your eyes. âya want mama to take care of you?â she pouts at you as she pushes you on to your side, she puts your leg over her shoulder holding herself up over your face.
âhm? want me to get you out of here?â âplease,â you kiss her lips again as she opens her mouth, sticking her tongue in your mouth letting you run yours over hers. your body starts to tremble and you throw your head back whimpering out sevikaâs name. sekiva bites you chin and kisses down you neck as she trails her hand between your bodies and rubbing circles against your clit. âsuch a good girl, imma take the best care of you baby. i promise.â she pants out as your hands grip on to her biceps. you cum and let out obscene moans that only sevika could ever make you make.
#i never know how to end these#wlw#lesbian#sevika arcane#sevika#arcane#sevika x reader#sevika smut#arcane x reader#sevika x female reader#toni's piece彥
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Imagine yâall just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when youâre lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GODâitâs slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEEDđŤđŠ
OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.
#2 from my drabble game
smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex
Rafe is in deep shit.
You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.
Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.
His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.
You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.
"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.
"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.
He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."
Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.
You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.
Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.
Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.
Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.
Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.
You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.
Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."
Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."
Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.
Well, it started sweet at least.
Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.
Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.
It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.
He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe drabble#outer banks smut#rafe obx#outer banks imagines#rafe smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#bsf!rafe#rafe cameron drabble#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fic#drew starkey smut#drew starkey#obx fic#outer banks#outerbanks rafe#obx
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So I'm not sure if your still taking request now, if your not then sorry for sending you this.
But if you are then imagine Sanemi with a reader who got sent the wrong uniform that happens to be girls and designed by the same perverted glasses wearing Kakushi who made Mitsuri uniform.
Reader decideds to wear it just to see what they look like in it before sending it back but Sanemi comes in, sees them wearing it, and proceeds to rearrange their guts for the rest of the day.
DomTop Sanemi x male slayer reader thoughts~! ૮ Ëâ°Ë á
WC:. 818
Tags: wall sex, mirror sex, amab anatomy, reader in female clothes, cross dressing, p Nâ A sex, rough sex, neck biting, degrading, hair pullin, bottom male reader ŕťę°ŕžŕ˝˛Â´â¸â¸> Ë <â¸â¸ ęąŕžŕ˝˛á
A/N: I jus havenât been feelin like writing a fic recently so I jus did some thoughts
Taglist: @yyuinaa @asher-is-hotxp @unstab1eperson2 @silvern1006 @kimisbunny
Just thinking bout sanemi coming over to your estate finding you all dolled up in a skimpy uniform that looks like borderline lingerie on your body, walking up behind you and gripping hold of your pecs, massaging them through the fabric of your uniform while whispering irritated remarks like âwho knew one of the slayers best men liked to dress like a woman?â Heâd shove you agaisnt the mirror you were standing in front of and just make you look at yourself and watch as he roughly grabs and grips at all your plush spots. Sanemi would reach his hand down under the short skirt part and make you lift your leg up just enough the skirt rides up and exposes your ass for him.
Just thinking bout sanemi who just goes silent seeing your stuff cock standing up under the skirt, heâd retract his hands from your body completely making you let out a disappointed whine while he reaches back and grabs hold of a handful of your hair, jerking it making your eyes meet his in the mirror while he mumbles lewd things in your ears about âwhat a fucking whore you are, I bet you dressed like this on purpose just wantin to get fucked huh?â You canât even respond to that because he reaches his free scarred hand down and starts stroking you under the uniform since the uniform didnât come with any boxers you were already nude underneath.
Just thinking bout sanemi talking you through it, his hand stroking your cock flicking his wrist having your ass pressed to his bulge making you feel what you were gonna take while he has you all hot and bothered dropping your hair letting your head fall and giving the globes of your ass a hard pinch leaving them all tender âyouâre leakin a mess pretty boyâ sanemi was cocky and he had the strength to back that up so of course he was gonna make it known when he belittled you with pet names, how could he not when he had your cock leaking like a faucet in his hand- god you were so fuckin perfect, if only he wasnât to prideful to tell you, heâd have to just show you then.
Just thinking bout Sanemi who finally fucks you, he has you mounted from behind huffing in your ears like a wild animal with his hands tight on your hips bitting at your neck while his cock violated your insides leaving them squished and clenching around his cock, if he pulled out heâd bet his cock would glisten from how slick your cavity felt around his dick. âFeels so fucking good around meâ you got the pretties cunt Iâve ever felt babyâ those words just make you twitch and clench up around him, you were so humiliated seeing yourself getting ruined by the pillar and the worst (best) part was you were wearing a perverse uniform, your legs felt numb but Sanemi reached his hand down and lifted your thigh up again making you squeal when his cock head reaches that tender spot inside you making it feel like a warm sensation trickled down your thighs.
Just thinking bout Sanemi who only comes inside you, he doesnât wanna waste his seed anywhere unless he knows itâs planted nice and deep inside you, load after load getting pumped into you and you could barely let out a coherent moan when heâd just re positing you and fuck you in a new angle, if there was one thing hashiraâs didnât lack it was stamina because the wind pillar held lots of it. By the end of the day you were all bloated laying on your back with your legs spread wide up in the air getting fucked in a mating press in your bedroom in your estate, you had practically lost most feeling in your legs and all Sanemi could say âcâmon baby I know you can give me one more canât you? Just one more fâmeâ
Just thinking bout Sanemi whoâs terrible with aftercare, heâd go to Shinobu to get creams for your bite mark covered flesh and for all the places he had fucked raw, come oozing past your weakened ring of muscle, he almost feels pride seeing you laying face down whimpering all sleepy and sore with your ass raised up showing off the handy work he did you you. The uniform still on with the skirt half ridden up to your waist and your pecs practically spilled out of the heart shaped window like a pair of plump tits making him wanna start all over again with youâ the hashira meeting wasnât for another couple of hours so he maybe willâŚâdo you think you can handle a few more rounds for me [name]?â Youâd just let out a loud whine at his words not even fitting when he crawled back on top of you.
#sleep-0-deprived#sleep 0 deprived#x male reader#x male reader smut#bottom male reader#sub male reader#gay mlm#mlm ns/fw#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer x male reader#demon slayer sanemi#demon slayer smut#sanemi shinazugawa#kny sanemi#sanemi x reader#sanemi smut#kny x male reader#kny x reader#sanemi x male reader#demon slayer#x amab reader#amab reader#x sub male reader#x bottom male reader#x uke reader#uke male reader#bottom male#kimestu no yaiba x male reader#kimestu no yaiba#kimetsu sanemi
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strap in time for a riverlore explanation:
ok so at the end of season 5, veronicaâs evil dad hiram lodge places a bomb under betty and archieâs bed which goes off and the force of the explosion sends them into a parallel universe called rivervale where supernatural stuff happens.
satan himself comes to visit rivervale his name is lou cypher and everyone makes a deal with him. (unrelated to the plot, just wanted to let yall know)
they have a 5 episode arc in rivervale where all characters die but they donât stay dead and in the end we find out archie created this reality to see his dead father once more which is very sweet and touching actually.
eventually the universes start to leak into one another and season 1 reggie shows up and picks a fight with the recasted reggie and veronicaâs like we should have a threesome.
another jughead from another dimension comes in to fix this whole thing and his idea is to make out with veronica on archieâs bed because him and veronica are the antithesis or betty and archie.
anyways they eventually fix the timeline without bombs but hereâs the catch: a jughead must stay in the teen sex bunker forever and write comics of riverDale and riverVale so that the two universes can coexist.
i would like to point out that at this point in time (at least in my opinion) there are 4 jugheads in the riververse: 1. riverdale jughead 2. rivervale jughead 3. narrator jughead weâve all met in episode 1 and finally 4. teen sex bunker jughead whoâs writing comics to prevent the two universes from collapsing
they return to the normal timeline but the main characters have gained superpowers as a result of their proximity to the supernatural. betty can see peopleâs auras, archie is invincible, veronica is toxic (literally), tabitha can control time, jughead can read and control minds and cheryl can manipulate fire.
by this point percival pickens arrives in town and heâs like iâm gonna make this place into a late stage capitalism dream land and archieâs like nuh uh you wonât. percival starts building a ghost train and he wonât pay the workers. archie and tabitha convince the workers to unionize by singing bread and roses.
thereâs an episode where tabitha tries to prevent the mlk assassination. she also stops riverdale from becoming a sundown town. in the same episode i believe we find out tabitha is actually an angel sheâs the guardian angel of riverdale. this realization comes to her as sheâs drinking chocolate milkshake from the holy grail. yes, THE holy grail from jesusâ last supper.
percival pickens will gain even more powers from the upcoming comet so the gang has to stop it from destroying riverdale. they donât know what to do though.
now would be a good time to mention cheryl has an ancestor called abigail blossom who was burned at stake for being a witch by archie, betty and jugheadâs ancestors: archibald andrews, beatrice cooper and jedediah jones. this abigail was a lesbian and in love with toniâs ancestor: thomasina topaz.
we also find out abigail resurrected in the body of cheryl and another one of cherylâs ancestors poppyseed blossom.
back to thomasina though. cheryl contacts abigailâs soul and sheâs like ok iâll help you only if you let me have one night with thomasina. so toni and cheryl have their souls trapped in a jar while abigail and thomasina use their bodies as vessels. they have lesbian sex and then abigailâs like yeah iâll help you now. basically lesbian sex saves the world.
what do is that veronica is basically a human dialysis machine so she sucks out everyoneâs powers and transfers them to cheryl whoâs also a witch btw. cheryl destroys the comet but she canât save the town completely unscathed but they were late so tabitha the guardian angel creates a pocket of time in the 50s and places riverdale there. cheryl the lesbian is canonically the most powerful character in riververse.
the final season takes place in the 50s. the guardian angel tabitha shows up and she has everyone watch the previous 6 seasons of riverdale and everyone remembers. then on the last day of school itâs revealed that jughead, betty, veronica and archie have all been in a quad relationship this whole time. congrats riverdale for being the only show that has the balls to do that btw.
in the end betty is the only one alive from her class. itâs now 2023 and sheâs like 80 (because remember they went back in time and grew old from there). she wants to go back to visit riverdale with the ghost(?) of jughead whoâs like a genie granting her wish i suppose. and there we get another jughead so at this point there are canonically 5 jugheads in riververse.
in the final scene betty dies and goes to heaven which we find out is actually just popâs chockâlit shoppe in the sky. she sits on her table with jughead, veronica and archie. with the heaven version, our number of jugheads has gone up to 6.
but it doesnât stop there. the camera pans out into the parking lot. thereâs yet another jughead there. he explains to us how they will always have this and they will never escape the comics or something along these lines. this is our 7th and i believe final jughead.
there you go this is the explanation: they never really died and will likely never ever die. even if they died, it wasnât like they were dead the whole time. it was a great finale.
there are also many things i missed like julian the cursed doll coming back as cherylâs evil twin julian completely replacing jason blossom and jason having his only ever speaking role etc but yeah you get the point
also this isnât even the quarter of what happens in the show so if you have any questions just drop them and iâd be happy to answer them i love talking about riverdale
every single word of this feels like it was pulled out of a bingo machine
#riverdale#rivervale#riverdale explained#riverdale lore#riverdale finale#can you tell i love riverdale#jughead jones#betty cooper#veronica lodge#archie andrews#cheryl blossom#toni topaz#tabitha tate#cw#ras#roberto aguirre sacasa
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