#he loves a lot more than he’s willing to say with words and he shows it by repeatedly turning up for those things only to get slapped down

[arabella0001]

i writed like 2 days for this beloved man

kisuke doesn’t reveal his bankai often, lucky for you, he’s got plenty of other things he’s more willing to show

anime: bleach

pairings: kisuke urahara x reader

synopsis: curiosity killed the cat

warnings: long, a lot of tessing, edging, fingering, oral (male receiving), light rough sex, after care

You’ve always been aware of Kisuke.

He’s not the kind of man you can easily ignore. Whether it was that sly smile constantly tugging at his lips that makes him appearing carefree, his strategic mind always masking his true intentions or his frequently teasins others—expecially you. Kisuke Urahara had an irritating talent for making you blush. And as much as you found that part of him infuriatingly attractive, you never thought it was anything more than a game to him.

Why would it be? He’s teased you so many times it feels like second nature—just a harmless habit he indulged in because he could.

So you never let yourself think too much about him that way. It was easier to brush it off, to assume that was just who he was. Expecially when you’re not the only person he does this to.

But you’ve been working at Kisuke’s shop long enough to know when something’s up, like deflection from his true reasons.

His usual antics are predictable—constant teasing, sly remarks—but today feels different. His presence is present more, his touches wandering a little longer than usual, and the way his eyes track you isn’t just casual. It’s calculated.

You try to ignore it. It’s probably nothing.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself until he slides up behind you while you’re reorganizing shelves. His hand finds your shoulder, fingers snaking lazily around it.

His breath is warm against your ear, the flirtatious edge unmistakable.

“Well, well… look at you. Working so hard today. I hardly recognize you”

You fumble with the item in your hand, nearly dropping it. He’s too close—too casual about the way he leans in, his chest almost brushing your back. Is not like your touch deprived, but you’re not used to it, and his attractive persona and unconventional charm doesn’t help either.

“I-I just want to finish up quickly,” you stammer, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “The faster I finish, the sooner I can get home.”

“Oh? In a hurry, are we?” His voice dips lower, humor lacing around every word.

You feel his gaze on you, unwavering, even as you force yourself to focus on the shelves.

Kisuke steps in closer, his arm brushing against yours as he pretends to help by reaching for something—his fingers grazing yours. If you believe in coincidences, that is.

“Home’s nice and all,” he murmurs, voice quiet enough that it feels just for you. “But I can’t help but wonder… no date waiting for you?”

Your breath catches. You edge back, pretending to adjust a box. Why he is suddenly interested in this kind of answears?

Kisuke sees right through it, of course.

“A date?” you scoff, trying to recover. “Like I have time for that. I barely keep up with work here, let alone everything else.”

His smug smile widens. “Ah, yes. The ever-dedicated worker. Sacrificing love for labor. How tragic.” And you barely contain to don’t roll your eyes at that.

He leans in slightly. “A shame, really. I would’ve thought you’d have a long line of admirers by now.”

Your cheeks flush despite your best efforts, and you curse inwardly.

“I—I need a break,” you mutter, practically fleeing outside before he can say anything else.

His chuckle follows you out. “Take your time. I’ll be here if you miss me’’

You exhale, pacing just outside the shop.

What the hell is he doing today? Is he bored? Is he messing with you?

But after a few minutes, you manage to cool off. You tell yourself you’re imagining things, you need to just mind your business.

When you step back inside, Kisuke is laughing with the others, his usual breezy self. He’s chatting with Tessai and Jinta, but his eyes flicker toward you briefly—so brief it’s almost dismissible. Almost.

The day winds down, but the weight of his gaze follows you. Every now and then, when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, you catch him watching.

Evening comes, and after the last customer leaves, you finally snap.

“What’s your deal, Kisuke?” you blurt, arms crossing as you glare at him from across the room.

He pauses, leaning lazily against the counter. His hat tilts forward, shadowing his green eyes, but that damn grin remains.

“Deal?” he echoes, tapping his chin. “I’m just admiring your craftsmanship. Can’t a humble shop owner appreciate his employee’s dedication?”

You narrow your eyes, not buying it. “You never watch me like this.”

Kisuke chuckles, but the glint in his eye sharpens. “Well, you did say you wanted me to stop hiding behind jokes. I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

He steps forward. One step. Then another.

You retreat instinctively until your back brushes the wall. His hand lifts, palm flattening against the wall beside your head, caging you in.

You swallow hard, your eyes stretched in surprise. “Kisuke—”

“Oh?” His eyes flicker, and the usual playfulness deepens into something heavier, unsettling. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name like that. I’m starting to think you like this.”

His face looms over yours, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Well?” His voice lowers, teasing but firm. “Didn’t you ask me to stop playing around?”

Your pulse quickens. Heat rises in your chest. You didn’t see this coming at all.

“I… didn’t see expect this… whatever this is,” you admit, voice quieter than intended.

Kisuke hums softly, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, tilting your face up just enough to catch his eyes hidden behind the brim of his hat.

“Expect?” he repeats, the word rolling lazily off his tongue. “Sweet thing, I live to defy expectations.”

His gaze drops to your lips—smooth and slow. You notice. And he knows you notice.

His hand slips lower, fingers grazing your hip. Light enough to make you shudder, unrushed enough to know exactly what he’s doing.

Your eyes flick between his lips and his unreadable gaze. “You drive me insane,” you murmur, frustration blending with something else.

“I noticed,” he says easily, arrogant while tilting his head. “So… what are we going to do about it?”

You think for a moment and then.

You kiss him.

His response is immediate. One hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you body against him as his lips part against yours. The kiss deepens—measured but heated, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

There’s a moment where his teasing pauses, lips parting as his head tilts back slightly.His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head further. He swallows every sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

You gasp when his lips trail down, nipping at the soft skin of your neck. A low, rumbling hum escapes his throat, as if savoring the way you feel beneath him.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?” Kisuke chuckles against your skin, lips brushing just below your ear. His hand drifts lower, fingers teasing the curve of your thigh.

“Kisuke…” you manage, your voice shaky.

“Oh, I like the way you say my name,” he murmurs, his lips tracing your pulse. “But I think you can do better.”

His hand inches higher. There’s weight behind his touch, but it’s not rushed—it’s the slow, savoring kind of touch, as if he’s in no hurry to reach the finish line.

You groan softly, pressing closer. “Touch me.”

Kisuke’s breath hitches faintly. His smirk returns, curling lazily against your neck.

“Touch you?” he echoes, fingers skating just beneath the hem of your shirt. “My, my. Forward tonight, aren’t we?”

But he doesn’t stop.

His fingers deftly unbutton your pants and slip inside, finding your already dampened panties. He rubs slow circles over your sensitive flesh, making you gasp into the kiss.

"Tsk tsk… Someone’s more responsive than I expected. Should I take credit for this?’’ he teases, nipping at your lower lip before trailing kisses along your jawline.

He pulls back just enough to gaze into your flushed face, a mysterious smile playing on his own lips.

“We wouldn’t want to cause a scene—at least, not here. Shall we?”

With a flick of his wrist, the store's security charms disappear, leaving the two of you alone amidst the shelves of Soul Society merchandise.

Your legs tremble as he continues to tease you through your underwear, the sensation of his fingers on your most intimate area driving you wild with need. You almost hate how your body reacts to him.

At his words, you glance around the shop, a mix of excitement and uncertainty coursing through you.

Noticing your glance, he let out a low scoff, fingers never ceasing their maddening caress. "Oh, don't worry, dear. No one will disturb us. These charms ensure our privacy."

He leans in close again as he whispers,’’Let’s take this somewhere more… accommodatin, hmm?’’

With a effortless motion, he lifts you onto the counter, the cold glass beneath your thighs a stark contrast to the heat building within you. His hands immediately resume their exploration, this time slipping beneath your skirt to push your panties aside.

"Such a responsive little thing, aren't you?" he muses, his thumb circling your clit as his big fingers delve deeper, stroking your slick inner walls.

You moan loudly, unable to hold back the pleasure as he touches you so intimately. Your hips buck against his hand instinctively, craving more friction.

"Oh god, Kisuke... Please... I need..."you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling to him desperately.

The way he's playing with your body, the filthy and teasing words spilling from his lips, you can feel the coil of tension in your pussy tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"Just... Just make me come," you so close to begging, your voice trembling with desire "I can't take anymore..."

Kisuke's cheeky smirk widens as he watches your reactions, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Feeling a bit overwhelmed, hmm? Can't handle a little teasing?"

He slows his movements, letting his fingers just graze your sensitive spots, stoking the flames of craving rather than quenching them, looking at your submissive look, whimpering for release. He smirks at you, taking your mouth in an intense kiss, his movements low and precise, driving you mad.

He bite your lip and you moan, you can’t take it anymore.

“I hate you” you barely managed to let it out.

With a sudden shift, he resumes his previous rhythm, his fingers plunging deep and fast, hitting that exact spot inside you that left you trembeling.

"Ah… such harsh words for someone trembling under me." Kisuke’s chuckle vibrates against your skin, low and rich, the sound curling around you like smoke. "I must be doing something right to earn that kind of praise."

He drags his tongue along the curve of your throat again, lingering when he reaches the soft thrum of your pulse, his hand grabbing your hair with a light tug making you gasp.

"I wonder if you even realize how much you give away… Naughty thing, getting this worked up over a little attention."

He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, eyes gleaming with that familiar glint of trouble. "Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t mind. In fact…" He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over yours. "I find it rather endearing."

You can’t understand how his teasing words make you so aroused, your legs tremble so hard while your vision start blurring.

“Kisuke oh my—“

As your orgasm crashes over you, Kisuke's fingers continue their relentless strokes, prolonging your climax until you're writhing and sobbing with pleasure. Only when your spasms begin to subside does he slow, then withdraw his fingers from your still-quivering pussy.

He brings them to his lips, sucking your essence clean with a satisfied hum. Kisuke smooths down your skirt with practiced ease, his hands on you thighs "There we go—neat and presentable"

His tone is light, but the wicked gleam in his eyes betrays him. It’s as if he hadn’t just left you shaken and undone.

Without waiting for an answer, Kisuke pulls you to your feet gently, guiding you through the dimly-lit shop by your hands until you reach the tucked-away corner of his personal space. The faint scent of sandalwood lingers in the air, grounding yet evidently his.

His gaze flickers with desire as he eases you onto the couch, standing over you with a quiet intensity. "Now, let’s see… where were we?"

Kisuke’s fingers ghost over your skin as he undoes your clothing piece by piece, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

"Ah… what a sight," he muses, trailing a fingertip down the curve of your collarbone, his finger circling your swollen peck, hardening in his wake. “Almost as captivating as the hidden gems of this shop. But I must admit…" His eyes catch yours, glinting with something darker. "You’re far more tempting."

His hands continue their exploratory journey, tracing the curves of your body with a gentle firmness.

Kisuke’s fingers trace delicate patterns over your sensitive skin, your arms and waist, your thighs and hips, drawing out soft whimpers and gasps that only seem to fuel his amusement.

"Oh, I hear you loud and clear, darling. But let’t have a little patience…" his lips hover near your ear, his voice a velvety purr.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, your skirt slips to the floor, pooling at your feet. Kisuke steps back just slightly, his gaze roaming over you, drinking in the sight with a dangerous glint dancing behind his half-lidded eyes making you flusttered.

"Mmm… now that’s a view worth savoring." His fingers ghost along the edge of your lace panties, knuckles grazing your hips as if testing the boundaries of his self-control. "Let’s see what other secrets you’re hiding, shall we? I think these curves deserve a little more… attention."

His hand lingers, not moving further just yet, letting the weight of his words—and his gaze—sink into you.

Your cheek flush under his intense gaze “Your turn now” Kisuke's eyes still flash with amusement as you boldly strip him bare, revealing his lean, toned physique. He doesn't resist, instead leaning back to allow you full access.

"Well now, isn't this a surprise? The tables have turned, haven't they?" he remarks, his voice tinged with fascination intrigue.

As your hands wander across his body, eager and curious, Kisuke’s gaze never wavers.

His muscles tense beneath your palms, subtle but telling. His body responds instinctively, hips canting forward with a deliberate slowness that lets him draw out every second of pleasure.

"Careful now, Y/N… you might unearth secrets even I’ve forgotten I was hiding."

His hands slide effortlessly to your hips, fingers pressing in just enough to remind you who’s leading this dance. With a gentle tug, he pulls you against him, the heat between you igniting like a slow burn.

The heat of his body envelops you, and you can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Now, why don't you show me what else you're capable of, my little explorer?" he whisper, tilting his head just enough to brush his lips over the corner of your mouth

Kisuke's breath hitches as your lips and tongue trail a scorching path down his torso, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. He threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you lower.

“Mmm… careful now, Y/N. You're treading dangerous ground," Kisuke muses, his voice low and laced with desire. "Once you start something like this… stopping isn’t so simple."

His warning is light, but there’s no real intention behind it. He makes no move to dissuade you, his gaze fixed intently as you sink to your knees before him. His eyes widen slightly, that flirtatious glint tempered by something far more primal.

"Oh? Bold as ever…" he murmurs, his head tilting slightly, the smirk tugging at his lips betraying just how much he’s enjoying this. "Tell me, my curious little kitten—" his hips shift forward, just enough to tempt, "—will you strike now, or are you going to let your prey squirm a little longer?"

The challenge hangs between you, thick and electric, his gaze unrelenting as he waits for your next move.

You look up at him shyly, your eyes locked with his as you wrap your fingers around his rigid cock, giving it a slow squeeze.

Kisuke's eyes roll back, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your hand closes around his throbbing member. A shaky exhale slips through gritted teeth, and for once, the usual witty remarks are replaced by quiet, indulgent groans.

He rocks his hips, subtly thrusting into your grasp, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. The sight of your flushed cheeks and lust-filled eyes only fuels his arousal. His pupils dilate, lingering on your errotic position as if committing the image to memory.

"Look at you, so bold and daring," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure.

With a fluid motion, he guides your head closer, the tip of his erection brushing against your parted lips. "Why don't you put that clever mouth of yoursto use, hmm?´’ He tilts his head slightly as he watches your reaction unfold. "No pressure, of course… but I’d hate to think all that potential is going to waste."

Kisuke's breath catches in his throat as you take him into your mouth, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Well, well, looks like someone's eager to please—mmm”

His gaze lingers, drinking in every reaction you give, clearly savoring the effect he has on you. He felt your throat muscles flutter around his cock, the vibration of your muffed moans make it so hard for him to control himself.

His eyes narrow slightly, his usual demanour unexpected slipping into something more untamed, running his fingers through your hair, guiding you to take him deeper, he is panting as your tongue swirls around the sensitive head of his cock—it was pure eroticism.

Kisuke's gaze bores into you, his expression a mix of playful smugness and intense focus. He's clearly enjoying the sensation, but there's an undercurrent of something more – a challenge, a game of cat and mouse.

Kisuke's breath hitches again as you increase your efforts, his grip on your hair tightening reflexively, his knuckles turning white.

He press forward hitting the back of your mouth. He held still for a moment, savoring the sensation of being deepthroated by you. He tries to maintain his composure, but the intensity of your oral attentions and you innocent flushed cheecks is quickly eroding his defenses.

"Hah... Y/N, you naughty minx," he manages to gasp out between clenched teeth, his hips beginning to piston faster. "If you keep that up, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Despite his warning, Kisuke allows himself to surrender to the pleasure, his movements becoming more erratic and forceful. His groans make clear he won't last much longer under your skilled onslaught.

He decided to pull out before is too late, panting heavily. He lifts you onto the plush couch, his hands roaming your curves with a possessive touch while you still recover, face ravished and your voice more hoarse.

“Time for the main event, my dear. Are you ready to see what this old fox is truly capable of?" his eyes is searching yours, looking for consent “May I continue?”

Seeing you nod immediately, he settles between your thighs, his hard length nudging against your entrance. With a wicked grin, he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely penetrating you before withdrawing making you whimper.

Kisuke's fingers dig into your hips as he grips them, holding you in place as he lines himself up once more. This time, he drives forward with a smooth, powerful stroke making you moan loudly as he fills you completely, your nails digging into his back.

“Ahhh—“ Kisuke's lips curve into a triumphant smirk as he feels you stretch around him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his invading length.

His back arches subtly, muscles rippling beneath your touch. He stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried so deeply inside you, making him gasp. There’s a hitch in his rhythm, as if even he can’t maintain the act when it feels this good.

"Oh, I think the gods are very pleased indeed," he teases, his voice low and rough with satisfaction. "To think, I was worried you might not be able to handle me after all."

With a subtle shift of his hips, Kisuke begins to move, setting a languid, sensual rhythm that has you panting, writhing beneath him. His hands roam your body, caressing and exploring every inch of skin he can reach.

You can’t even control your moans, bucking your hips to meet his deep thrusts

“Fuck fuck fuck—“

Kisuke's eyes glint with delight as he listens to your impassioned cries, his hips snapping against yours with increased urgency. His teeth graze your earlobe, breath hot against your skin. "Don’t worry. I’ll give you exactly what you need”

Kisuke's hands slide down to hold your thighs, spreading them wider as he picks up speed, driving into you with long, deep strokes that have you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Mmmm…you are too big” Kisuke's smirk widens at your indirect praise, his chest puffing up with masculine pride. "Of course I am, dear. After all, I am a master of my craft."

He punctuates his statement with a particularly forceful thrust, grinding against your sensitive clit as he bottoms out inside you. "But size isn't everything, now is it? It's how I wield it that truly matters."

Kisuke's fingers dig into your thighs, holding you steady as he continues to pound into you with relentless precision, each stroke hitting that perfect spot deep within. A soft groan escapes him, muffled against the curve of your neck, and his fingers flex—digging in just enough to leave faint marks in their wake.

Kisuke's smile widen as he watches you writhe beneath him"Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you? Getting so nicely worked up on my cock.

He rolls his hips, grinding against you with a tantalizing slowness that has you arching off the couch. "I must admit, I'm rather fond of seeing you like this - all flushed and desperate for release. It's quite...flattering, really."

Kisuke's hands skim down your sides, his fingertips dancing along your ribs in a maddeningly light touch.

Your whole body trembeling with the effort of holding back you orgasm “Kisuke…please harder—“

Kisuke's eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise at your plea, a wicked gleam entering his eye. “Harder, you say? Oh, but where's the fun in that, my dear?"

He slows his pace to a teasing crawl, his cock dragging deliciously against your sensitive inner walls. “You know, some people might call this torture. But I prefer to think of it as...extended pleasure."

Kisuke's hands tighten your hips, pulling you onto him with a sudden, brutal thrust that has you crying out in a combination with pleasure and agony. "There, does that hit the spot? Or would you like me to continue our delightful game?”

As you let out a piercing scream, Kisuke's eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He doesn't break eye contact as he plunges deep, his thick length stretching you to the limit. He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged but steady, as his lips curl into a faint smirk.

“Such a beautiful sound, ,Y/N he murmurs while his hips begin to move again, each thrust precise and powerful, designed to drive you wild with pleasure. His hands roam your body, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pours all his focus into bringing you to the brink and beyond.

Kisuke’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he senses your impending climax, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hips snap forward with a particularly deep, forceful thrust as he aims to send you hurtling over the edge “Don’t hold back now… I’m enjoying the show."

Kisuke's fingers flex against your skin, his movements become more urgent, driven by the need to bring you to completion and savor the rush of your release.

Kisuke's expression shifts from playful to utterly focused, his eyes burning with intensity as he watches you unravel beneath him and for a fleeting moment, you feel the raw, unfiltered need behind his touch.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you, his own orgasm crashing over him in tandem with yours. Kisuke's hips jerk erratically as he spills deep inside you, his hot seed painting your inner walls as he rides out the aftershocks.

Kisuke’s breathing slows, but the satisfied grin on his lips remains as if permanently etched there. His blond hair falls messily over his eyes, though the sharp glint behind them remains as he leans back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Well, well… I’d say that was time well spent,” he muses, voice low and lazy, but pleased with himself. “You look like you’ve had your fill. Though, I wouldn’t mind another round of applause for my efforts.”

His words drip with a harmless humour, but there’s something softer beneath it—something he won’t name, even if you asked.

Kisuke stretches out on the couch beside you, one arm props his head up, while the other lazily draws faint shapes along the curve of your hip, like he’s absentmindedly tracing a map only he can read.

“You know,” he drawls, “for someone who claims not to trust me, you seem awfully comfortable right now. I’d almost say you like having me around.”

His gaze flickers to yours, watching for that telltale flicker of embarrassment he so dearly loves to coax out of you.

Kisuke’s chest still rises and falls against you, slow and deliberate, but there’s an alertness in his posture. He’s aware—always aware—and the slight downturn of your eyes doesn’t escape him. His fingers pause for half a second before resuming their lazy path.

“Well, you’re certainly more relaxed now,” he notes, watching you with that familiar sharpness. His hand shifts, brushing a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead, tucking it behind your ear with careful precision. “Though, if this was your master plan to seduce me, I have to say… you could’ve just asked.” Your cheeck blush at his remark

“I hate to admit but indeed i’m relaxed” Your voice carry a playful cadence, but you catch his gaze lingers too long for it to be entirely superficial. You know him well enough to recognize it—he’s watching for something.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you shoot back, though your voice lacks its usual bite. You feel raw—too exposed under his gaze. It’s unfamiliar, needing something more than teasing remarks.

Kisuke laughs softly, but there’s a subtle shift in his expression. His hand doesn’t leave your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentleness that feels almost foreign coming from him.

“My plan? Ohoho, I wish I could take credit for such a clever scheme,” he purrs, but the usual exaggerated flair is dialed back. “No, I just happen to be exceptionally gifted at identifying tension. And relieving it.”

His arm curls around your waist, pulling you just close enough for his nose to brush against your temple. He doesn’t press for more; the gesture is light, easy, like breathing. Kisuke smells faintly of sandalwood and something sharper—like incense that hasn’t quite burned out.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your hair, voice dropping into something softer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your body sinks into his chest almost involuntarily, and for once, Kisuke lets the silence hang between you. His fingers resume their slow path along your spine, tracing patterns that feel more like grounding than teasing.

“See?” he hums after a long pause, lips curving against the top of your head. “Much better. And you didn’t even have to buy me dinner first.”

You huff quietly against his chest, shifting enough to glare up at him, though the heat behind it doesn’t land.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Not when you make it this easy,” he replies without hesitation, flashing that trademark grin—the one that somehow manages to be both irritating and devastatingly charming in equal measure.

You bury your face against him with a muffled groan, and Kisuke’s laughter rumbles beneath your ear, quiet but genuine. His hand moves to cup the back of your head, cradling it as though the gesture requires no thought at all.

“You’re dangerous,” you murmur into his shirt, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Oh, I know,” Kisuke replies smoothly. “I’ve been told it’s part of my charm.”

You sigh, half-annoyed, half-amused—because of course he’d say that. But his hand hasn’t left your back, and the warmth pooling in your chest tells you that maybe, just maybe, he does know exactly what you need.

After a few moments, you shift slightly. “Will you walk me home?”

Kisuke hums, tilting his head to glance down at you, his eyes half-lidded but alert.

“Walk you home?” he echoes, tapping a finger against his chin as if in deep thought. “Mmm, tempting. But then I’d have to give up this incredibly comfortable spot I’ve secured for myself.”

You lift your head just enough to squint at him. “Kisuke—”

“Or…” he interrupts smoothly, lips curving as his gaze sharpens with that familiar playful glint. “You could stay the night. Much less effort. And far safer for both of us.”

You arch a brow at him. “For both of us?”

Kisuke’s grin widens, shameless. “Oh yes. I’m very fragile, you know. I’d sleep much better with you here to protect me.”

Despite yourself, a quiet chuckle escapes your lips. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He leans closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “And I promise to behave. Well… mostly.”

His smirk is impossible to resist, but something in his tone—something subtle, beneath the teasing—feels sincere enough to ease whatever lingering vulnerability lingers in your chest.

“…Alright. Thank you.”

Kisuke pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes softening as he presses a light kiss to your forehead.

“No need to thank me, darling,” he murmurs, already tugging the blanket over you both with the finesse of someone who planned this outcome all along. “Now, get comfortable. I expect payment in the form of breakfast tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, but your body presses closer all the same, the comfort of his presence settling over you like second nature.

“Fine. But I’m not making you anything fancy.”

Kisuke cackles softly, tucking you against him with ease.

“That’s alright,” he replies, lips grazing your temple one last time. “You’re all the sweetness I need.”

another smut with bleach

aizenxuraharaxreader

aizenxreader

a small appreciation for: @apocalypsesushi-chan

[woundlingus]

Gabriel moments that make me ragingly feral (1)

The Noose;

I think for this to be emphasised best it’s missing a little extra context, not that it’s needed but it certainly adds to the direness of the situation and Dean’s intentions with Gabriel.

Gabriel is not their friend. Gabriel is not even their ally. Freshly freed from torture and imprisonment, Gabriel has run off to try and break the last of his chains which proves more difficult than anticipated when he’s as weak and vulnerable as he is (physically and mentally). His choice to seek out the Winchesters isn’t born of trust or love but pure desperation, and Gabriel wasn’t around to witness Dean’s temper tantrum over him exercising his freedom to go deal with his own personal dramas- because that’s what this is for the Winchesters as well, they can talk big game about Michael but things would be fine if they left it alone, they want their mom. It’s understandable, they love her. But let’s not pretend anything about wanting to break open rifts between worlds in s13 is anything but them refusing to mourn a mother that never existed. Gabriel’s motives are no more petty than Dean’s, and I stand by that. If they had righteous motives they would leave their mother and keep the wall between worlds sealed.

So Gabriel doesn’t know that he is not walking back into a tense but still there allyship, like how he left things after Sam nursed him back and to return the favour Gabriel snapped out of his stupor to fight back to save him and Castiel. Sure he ran away and this is not friendship, but it’s something. He doesn’t know things have changed personally, because of Mary, because of a woman that looks like a friend Dean used to have but isn’t.

So when Sleipnir and Narfi come kicking in their door and start attacking the Winchesters, Gabriel (after taking a brief respite to panic in the bathroom) again steps between Sam and the enemy. Could simply be that he acknowledges he needs numbers on his side and if Sam and Dean die now it’ll be 1v2, or he’s still trying to pay Sam back for his kindness. Either way, he fights alongside them again.

After a little camaraderie, Dean is quick to pull out binding cuffs he’d been stashing which could be considered pretty overkill when Gabriel is already powerless and bleeding out, and the frame centers the cuff around Gabriel’s throat like he’s caught in a noose. Along with the framing of Gabriel as captured and subdued here they’ve also set Dean alone and Sam side by side with Gabriel, since he’s going to be the one fighting for Gabriel’s autonomy and recovery in upcoming scenes against Dean’s harsh Take What We “Deserve” method.

Here he’s trading one master for another potential one if Dean were to get his way here (restraining him, beating him, taking what Dean feels he deserves from body while he’s too weak to fight back), all because he came back to ask for help.

Ironically, it’s the exact same thing he did when he ran back to another old friend and asked him for help only to wind up contained, powerless, and stripped of his grace for someone else’s personal use.

Seems Gabriel is the worst of them all at learning his lesson.

[chaoticfvckingdisaster]

Something I think about a lot is how Rick Riordan very rarely uses "girlfriend/boyfriend" to refer to Percy and Annabeth within their perspectives. They're so intertwined, even Annabeth says in hoh that the word boyfriend isn't strong enough, because Percy was a part of her. They are a singular soul, too wrapped around each others' fates that regular labels are far too weak for them. But, Rick Riordan uses "boyfriend" a lot in Nico and Wills perspectives, not because they love each other less than percabeth, but to show how much the word means to them. Nico uses it any chance he gets- "his boyfriend," "he actually had a boyfriend," because Nico has never been able to say that before. Their struggle with their queer identities mixed with Nico's catholic guilt and chronic everyone-hates-me disease makes the fact that he has someone to call his actual boyfriend so much more important to his character development.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

addicted to you | spencer reid x reader

Spencer isn’t inclined to be affectionate with you. He’s a socially awkward germaphobe, and you’re perfectly fine with it. However, being three months into your relationship, you can’t help but want more. Once Spencer gets a taste, he wants more too. A lot more.

part 1 | part 2 - insatiable

wc: 6.1k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: established relationship, first times, virgin!spencer, early seasons spencer, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering praise kink, morning wood, morning sex, sex in unconventional places (like, not in public but not the bed lol), cunnilingus, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

a/n: no excuse for this insane fic but i was strangely inspired by a post i saw on twitter that i wanted to put a lighthearted (and horny) spin on. i definitely felt crazy writing this and i feel crazy posting this now so i sure hope you enjoy this insanity! (p.s you can also find this fic on ao3!)

You don’t mind that Spencer isn’t touchy. You understand, with Spencer being a germaphobe and a little socially awkward, that he isn’t inclined to kisses on the cheek or holding your hand. You’ve only been dating for three months, and he’s already getting better at doing these things, which makes your heart sing. 

Spencer is sweet, willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy. He used to shy away from your touch, but he’s gotten more comfortable with you. He lets you hold his hand when you’re out on a date, or he’ll kiss you chastely out in public. He lets you drape yourself over him when you’re sitting on the couch together watching a show, his arm around your waist to pull you in close. 

While you can understand Spencer’s hesitance towards public displays of affection, due to his awkwardness and anxieties about germs, you’re surprised he hasn’t initiated anything more in the privacy of his apartment (or yours). You’re starting to itch for it, something more, your attraction to Spencer Reid simply too overwhelming for it to simply be sweet and innocent anymore. Your body craves him desperately, because he’s so lovely and so fucking handsome. You’ve caught yourself staring at his hands more than once.

Tonight, you decide you’ll get what you want. You’re going to fuck Spencer Reid.

With your head buried in his shoulder during movie night, your hand runs down his body, getting dangerously close to his crotch – he jumps up off the couch, almost comedic, and stares at you like your touch had burned him. He looks positively freaked out. 

“Spencer,” you say, very confused that he’s not into this. What kind of man doesn’t like his girlfriend initiating sex? Hell, what kind of man doesn’t like sex? 

“I just–” Spencer pauses, like he’s struggling to find the words. “I can’t. Not right now, I–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You assure him. “We don’t have to. Ever, if that’s what you want.”

His eyes widen again. “No! I want to, just– It’s difficult, right now.”

You cock your head slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer frowns slightly, seeming to know that talking about it is the most rational thing to do, but it’s not like that makes him want to do it. “Well, I– I’ve never done it before.”

Your mouth falls open, just a little, and you look up at him. While you don’t mean to judge, it certainly isn’t surprising. Spencer was fourteen when he was starting university, and his general awkward demeanour and extreme nerdiness would likely rule out any sexual encounters for him during his time in college. Spencer’s line of work would clearly make it difficult for him to maintain a relationship – you definitely lucked out with getting to date him – and he’s too much of a softie for one night stands. So, Spencer Reid being a virgin at twenty-seven definitely checks out.

“That’s okay,” you say softly. “It’s totally normal.”

Spencer’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, you know it took me a while to get used to being affectionate with you, so I think–”

“Being intimate with someone else is going to be a hurdle you’ll need time to cross, too?” 

Spencer looks up at you, eyes wet, looking at you like you’ve read him like an open book. He whispers, “Yeah.”

“That’s okay,” you repeat, even though you’re trying to come to terms with the fact that you’re not going to fuck Spencer Reid tonight. “I’ll– We’ll take it slow, if you want to try.”

“Yes, please.” He has a small smile on his lips as he looks up at you. “I– We could try doing something tonight, too. I just– I wasn’t expecting it earlier. I’m sorry for pushing you off like that.”

You shake your head, reassuring him that you aren’t offended by it by any means. Then, you ask, “You’re sure you want to try? Tonight?”

Spencer nods, as he reaches for your hand. He holds it gently, resting it on his thigh. “Yeah. I haven’t– It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, but I want to, with you.”

You lean in to kiss his cheek gently. “I’m glad you trust me.”

His eyes are soft and syrupy when he meets your gaze. “Of course I trust you.”

You squeeze Spencer’s thigh before pressing your lips to his, the familiarity of kissing Spencer making you both ease up a little more. Your kiss is gentle, sweet, just like every other kiss you've shared, but you let your hand slide up his thigh as you kiss him, and you can feel Spencer tensing up under your touch. You squeeze his thigh to reassure him, and you feel Spencer wriggle underneath where you're leaning your body weight on him to loosen up. 

Your hand skirts over his crotch, a hardness under your palm that makes you feel somewhat proud of yourself. Spencer’s breathing is heavy as he keeps kissing you, and keeps letting you touch him. You think he’s so cute. You just want to make him feel good. 

You push the waistband of his sweats down, tugging him out of his pants. His cock is the same shade of red as his cheeks, his shyness turning you on extremely. 

He doesn’t look down at himself, where you’re holding him – instead, his eyes are intently focused on your face. You don’t push him about it, instead leaning forward to kiss him as you start to stroke his cock. 

This time, it feels desperate. Spencer kisses you with more fervour, like a fire’s been lit within him, the pleasure running through his veins almost like liquid courage as he kisses you deeply. You’re more than happy to be doing this, letting Spencer lick into your mouth while you jerk him off. You appreciate the weight of him in your hand, imagining him inside of you – but perhaps you’re getting ahead of yourself. 

“You can touch me, Spence,” you say, in between Spencer kissing you fervently. His hands have been cupping your face, but otherwise he seems awkward with them. You pull back slightly, and while it’s adorable that he’s still holding your face sweetly, you drag his hands down to your chest, in the oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from Spencer’s drawer. “Like this.”

Spencer’s large hands cup your breasts through the shirt perfectly. He squeezes tentatively. You bite your lip as his palms brush over your nipples, as he manhandles you just a little. It’s more force than you’re used to from Spencer, kneading and squeezing and feeling you, and that makes your head spin. 

Daringly, Spencer’s hands slip under your shirt, as he leans back in to kiss you. You feel his calloused hands on your skin as he feels you up, making you shudder. His touch isn’t demanding nor pushy, simply exploratory as he feels your soft skin under his fingertips. 

Your arousal is pumping through your system, Spencer’s gentle submissiveness like a drug you can’t kick. The more you touch him, the more he reacts; touching you more, whimpering and gasping against your lips, into your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you coo in his ear, your hand speeding up on Spencer’s hardness. He’s leaking pathetically, wet in your palm, and he squirms underneath you. 

“I’m– It’s too–” Spencer cuts himself off with a helpless whine, like he can’t control himself. His hands grip your waist tight. “Please–”

“Mm,” you hum sympathetically, while you thoroughly enjoy seeing Spencer like this. “Wanna cum like this, baby?”

Spencer’s breathing hard. He can’t get the words out, but he shakes his head. You slow your strokes, to an excruciating pressure on his length. “No? Then tell me, Spence.”

“Inside you,” He gasps, eyes squeezed shut. 

You absolutely should not let Spencer fuck you for the first time on his couch, but he’s desperate and your resolve is steadily crumbling. “You– You’re sure?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, his eyes pleading with you helplessly.

So, you pull your hand back and push your shorts off instead. Your panties come off in one fell swoop, and you sit back onto the couch with your legs spread. Spencer’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted as he looks at you, takes the sight of you in. 

Then he’s like a baby deer, standing up and fumbling to get his sweatpants off. You can’t help but giggle at his awkward movements, in his excitement and eagerness to get to touch you, to get to fuck you. He’s quick to get between your legs, his hardness nudging at your entrance already. 

“Mm, not yet, Spence,” you hum. You reach for his hand, taking his wrist as you guide his fingers to your clit. “You know what to do, right?”

He turns his wrist so his fingers – God, his fingers – are poised almost elegantly above your clit. He presses down and starts to circle his fingers against you. You gasp.

“Thought you didn’t– oh– Didn’t have much experience,” you gasp. You hold onto Spencer’s forearm tight, throwing your head back as Spencer pleasures you.

Spencer huffs out a laugh. “I might not be experienced, but I’m not a prude– I remember the… stuff I’ve seen. Eidetic memory and all.”

“Stuff,” you laugh. “I’m sure the porn you’ve watched must’ve helped, darling.”

He slips his fingers into your wetness with an unsurprising ease, considering how turned on you are by him. He hits spots inside you you’ve never thought were possible to reach, but they make electricity zip up your spine. You moan as he crooks his fingers into you, rocking them in and out with a wet squelch.

Spencer grins at you. “You were saying?”

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” you huff, your tone teetering between awfully turned on and mildly annoyed. 

“You like it,” Spencer says, assured of himself, and you smile, because you really do.

“My love,” you moan, as Spencer presses his fingers into you, back out. “You should try fucking me now.”

Spencer’s fingers are still inside of you, and his eyes are wide as he looks up at you. “You think so?”

You smile at him. “If you think you’re up for it.”

You mourn the loss of Spencer’s fingers, but as he’s mumbling to himself and lining his cock up with your entrance, you can only coo at how adorable you find all of this. And how turned on you are, but that’s more than obvious to the both of you by now. 

He looks to you, like he’s looking for reassurance. You nod. Even in the silence, he’s gotten the confidence to push his cock into you, the thickness of his tip breaching your hole. You gasp as you stretch around him, your cunt making space for him as he slides in, excruciatingly slow. “Spencer–”

Spencer lets out a whine as your tight heat engulfs him, his length swallowed up by you as he sinks deeper into you. “Oh, my God–”

“Just like that, baby,” you moan, your leg hooking around Spencer’s leg to coax him forward, closer to you. “Fuck.”

“Do I– When should I–” Spencer gasps, unable to form a coherent sentence with the pleasure swimming through his bloodstream. 

“You can start moving when you don’t feel like you’re going to blow your load if you breathe the wrong way,” you joke, but Spencer does seriously look like he’s going to finish any second. “Hey. Deep breaths, baby.”

Spencer’s brows are furrowed and his eyes are squeezed shut as he breathes in hard, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He’d told you to do that when he’d helped you through a panic attack one time, and while you feel bad that he feels so nervous about all this, it’s extremely amusing to you right now. 

“Look at me,” you say, trying your best not to laugh. “You’re doing great, love.”

Spencer pulls his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes looking to you for validation. 

“So good for me, darling,” you coo, your hand on his hip, while your thumb draws little circles into his skin. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer shudders, voice high-pitched and a little breathy. “I– You feel really good.”

“Yeah? It’ll feel even better when you start moving, sweetheart,” you hum. “You think you can do that for me? Slow, out then back in.”

Spencer whimpers, nodding, and he takes another deep breath in. His hands on your waist, he pulls out halfway before pressing back into you, and he moans so loudly your ears ring. “So– So tight, you–”

“That’s good, yeah? Feels good?” you coo. “Come on, baby. More.”

Spencer rests one of his arms on the back of the couch, holding himself steady and getting him that much closer to you. He starts to thrust in and out, starting off slow as he finds a rhythm. 

His thrusts are erratic, but you’re so wildly turned on and it still feels amazing, because it’s Spencer. 

Spencer is frantic, desperate, bracing himself against the couch as he fucks into you. Maybe pounding into you is a better phrase to use, because he’s fucking you like a madman, till the couch is squeaking under both your weight. You cry out, feeling Spencer drilling into you – and it feels so good.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whines. “You– It’s so good, oh–”

“Yeah, baby?” You rock your hips along with him, burying Spencer deeper into you. You clench so each thrust is a little tighter, and each time Spencer fucks into you, he moans a little louder. 

Amidst Spencer’s whines and pretty noises, you watch his face morph with pleasure, feeling assured that he’s enjoying this as much as you are. In fact, he’s probably enjoying this more. As you’re lost in your train of thought, admiring Spencer’s gorgeous face, you’re startled when you feel Spencer’s load inside of you, hot and slick. His hips flush against your ass, Spencer shudders as he rides out his orgasm, body trembling from the force of his pleasure.

“Oh, Spence,” you giggle, a little dizzy from how turned on you are, from watching Spencer lose himself just like that. You reach up to cup his face, your thumb gentle on his cheek. “Was that good?”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbles, seemingly brought back to reality. He pulls back, taking the sight of you in. “I’m– I’m good, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” you say. “You’re so cute. It’s so hot.”

“I mean, you are too, but– But you haven’t–”

“You wanna make it up to me, then?” You smile, gentle and warm and Spencer nods like he’s eager to please you. 

You kiss him while he pulls out, replacing the thickness of his cock with two fingers, which fit into you easily. Like before, Spencer presses his fingers into you, slick and wet and squelchy. Spencer curls them and fingerfucks you like a pro, like he’s done this a hundred times. With his face pressed into your shoulder and your arms slung around his neck, Spencer fucks you on his fingers until your toes are curling and you’re screaming his name. You cry out as you orgasm, shaking as Spencer fucks you through it. 

You’re almost embarrassed when you finally come back to your senses, no longer reeling from the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer is kissing your jawline sweetly, his clean hand stroking your hair.

“Hey,” Spencer says softly, somehow knowing you needed to hear him. He parrots you from earlier, “Was– Was that good?”

“So good, my love,” you murmur into his shoulder. Then, after a quiet moment, “I thought you needed some time to get comfortable with being intimate.” 

Spencer pauses for a moment, like he’s pondering it, before he says, “I know. But for you, I think I’d do anything.”

That’s all Spencer manages to get out before you kiss him again. It’s tender and sweet, the intensity behind your kiss no longer lustful but full of adoration and love. You feel like you could sob right now, but you manage to hold it back.

Spencer gets into the shower with you, which you’re surprised by, but his hands are soft on your body as he cleans you up. You shampoo his hair for him, even though he has to lean forward a little so you can reach. 

You end up falling asleep in Spencer’s bed, curled up in his arms. 

You don’t dream at night, but when you wake up with a hardness poking against your thigh and Spencer’s gentle snoring in your ear, you think you might be. 

In your dreariness, you reach behind you, the angular sharpness of Spencer’s hip bone under your palm. He’s warm, cuddled up against you, and the tickling of his breath on your neck tells you that this isn’t a dream. 

“Spence,” you whisper, shaking him slightly. You watch as he blinks himself awake, drowsy as he comes to focus on your face. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Spencer says, his voice rough with disuse. “What’s up?”

“You are,” you smile, a little too pleased, as your hand snakes down toward his crotch. 

He squeaks at the contact, your soft hand on his hardness, “Um, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” you laugh. “Had a good dream?”

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “About you, yeah.”

“Wanna tell me about it?” you goad, wiggling your eyebrows. 

Spencer’s cheeks somehow get even redder than they already were, but he shakes his head. “I want– I want to have sex, though.”

Your eyes widen. “Now?”

“Do you have the time for it?” He asks, sheepish. “I– I want to fuck you again.”

Your cheeks flush at Spencer’s sudden crudeness. You think about what Spencer could’ve possibly dreamt up, wonder how Spencer could possibly be confident enough to tell you straight up that he wants to fuck you. That phrase probably hadn’t been in Spencer’s lexicon until about twelve hours ago – while Spencer was smart – a literal genius – his innocence was completely understandable. 

“We have time,” you exhale, looking back into his eyes after looking at the clock. “I only have to be at the office in a couple of hours.”

“Good,” Spencer says, leaning in to kiss down your neck. His hands are frisky already, slipping underneath your shirt. Spencer splays his hands over your stomach, before reaching up to cup your breasts in his hands. 

“You like touching me like this, don’t you, baby?” you chuckle breathlessly, already feeling weak in the knees from the way Spencer holds you. “Mm, I’m surprised.”

“Why is that?” His words are slightly muffled against your skin, too busy kissing you to make himself sound coherent. His hands are rough against the softness of your skin, and you moan from the way he’s handling you.

“Yesterday you couldn’t even tell me you wanted to fuck,” you croon, thoroughly pleased. “And now you’re touching me like you know what you’re doing. It’s so hot.”

“I– I just can’t get enough of you,” Spencer admits, his earnest words turning you on extremely.

“Now you’re just horny,” you laugh, feeling Spencer’s hand slide over your underwear.

“Mm, you’re so wet right now too,” Spencer murmurs in your ear, his warm breath and raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine. Where’d he learn to talk like that? You squeeze your thighs together, but that doesn’t stop Spencer from feeling the wetness between your legs, soaking through your panties. 

“All for you, baby,” you gasp, as Spencer’s fingers slip past the band of your underwear, deftly stroking your clit. “Spencer–”

“Can I fuck you? Please?” He pleads, breathy, his hips already rutting forward against your ass. 

His eagerness makes your head spin, his sudden confidence in the realm of sex surprising – maybe it’s cockiness, but you still find that stupidly attractive – but it is certainly welcomed. 

“Yes, Spence, please,” you shudder, the word yes leaving your lips enough for Spencer to pull your underwear down, over the swell of your ass. He fumbles with his own boxers for a moment, but soon you feel his hard, leaking tip pressed to your butt. He rocks his hips back and forth, desperately seeking whatever friction he can get. 

Lost in his own pleasure, Spencer is quick to slide his cock between your legs, the wetness from your cunt making it easy for him to rut into the tight, slick space. Like this, his length rubs up against you, the head of his cock nudging at your clit with every thrust of his hips. It feels primal, Spencer so far gone that he isn’t even fucking you proper, content with the slick, tight space between your thighs and your pussy. You wonder if you need to tell him, but Spencer’s groan in your ear is shaky as his tip catches on your hole.

His arms wrapped around you, both of you moan as Spencer finally sinks his cock into you. He slides in too easily, so easily you almost think he’d hadn’t meant to do it. Maybe he hadn’t, but you’d gotten there in the end, where you both need to be; Spencer buried inside of you.

It’s so different from yesterday, the angle when he presses into you from behind so exhilarating, so good. He’s just as desperate as last night, but there’s a sort of reckless confidence in his movements. His hands slide under your shirt to grab at your tits again, rocking his hips while he practically gropes you. It’s so hot your head spins. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Spencer!” You cry out, your voice ripping its way out of your throat. Pleasure surges through you like electricity, Spencer’s thick cock hitting all the right spots from this angle. His eager desperation turns you on to no end, as you let him take you from behind. While you weren’t expecting lazy, morning sex at all, the intensity and desperation he fucks you with right now makes you think you could get used to this.

Spencer’s whine has your head spinning. His hips don’t slow, more rhythmic than yesterday but still as needy. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You coo breathlessly. You’re so fucking turned on, and every time Spencer drives his hips into you you can hear how wet you really are. “You’re doing so good for me, Spence, fucking me so good.”

“You like it? Is it good?” Spencer gasps, always so eager to please you.

“So good,” you moan. You’re still sore from last night, but the pleasure Spencer is giving you right now overrides all of that. You would love for him to wake you up like this every day. “I’m close, baby.”

“Oh,” Spencer says, like he’s surprised you’re already getting off on this, on him– “What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep going, Spence,” you gasp. “Keep fucking me just like this.”

Spencer’s hum is breathy, high-pitched. Somehow, his grip on you gets tighter, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The force he fucks you with is so wildly arousing. You’re so enamoured, and so turned on.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and steady as it bubbles up inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the dirty, rough way Spencer fucks you, and then you feel his soft lips on your neck again. He isn’t properly kissing you – more like slobbering all over your neck, but you cry out as he does so, thighs pressing together as you reach your orgasm. You’re shaking through it, clenching around Spencer as you come, and Spencer’s gasping as your tight pussy pushes Spencer over the edge too. You feel his come inside of you, cock twitching as his load spurts hot and heavy into your cunt. You sob, feeling Spencer slow his thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

“Holy shit,” you say, your voice coming out ragged and hoarse. You feel like a different woman, being fucked ruthlessly by your boyfriend in his bed for the first time. You can’t get enough. 

“I love you,” Spencer says quietly, earnest. It makes you shudder. 

“You’re crazy,” you laugh, taken aback at how Spencer’s returned to his gentle, soft self. “I love you too, you madman.”

“I can’t resist you,” he murmurs in your ear, the vibrations of his raspy morning voice almost soothing.

You turn around to face him, Spencer still holding you in his arms. He smiles warmly at you, and you lean in to kiss him. “You’re so cute.”

“Wanna go again?” he asks, somewhat timid. 

Your eyes widen. You try to hide your grin, but it doesn’t work. “Someone’s desperate, huh?”

Spencer flushes a gorgeous red. “Maybe a little?”

“I have to get ready for work,” you sigh, actually a little bummed that you can't spend all day fucking Spencer. “Maybe tonight?”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles. “Want me to drive you back to yours?”

You grin. “You’re the best!”

Work is relatively uneventful, numbers and Excel spreadsheets; and all you can think about is Spencer’s rapid change in demeanour over the last twelve hours, his innocence torn away by you, leaving behind a horny, insatiable man. You’re kind of proud of yourself for that. 

So, you can’t blame yourself for being excited to get back to Spencer’s. Lately, you’ve been staying over more, your apartment simply a place to house your wardrobe. Maybe you’ll talk to Spencer about living together.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, pleased when Spencer kisses you as he greets you at the door. 

Even with all the probable germs on you from being out all day, Spencer’s surprisingly clingy, hands on your waist as he stumbles in behind you, as you set the takeout you’d brought over on his dining table. Spencer leans in behind you, kissing your cheek then down your neck.

“Hey, what’s with you, baby?” you chuckle, very much enjoying the way Spencer’s hands slide down your waist to your hips, grabbing the meat of your thighs through your dress pants.

“Missed you,” Spencer answers simply, but even you can tell there’s something in his voice that implies he’s looking for something more. 

“I’m sorry I had to leave you alone the whole day, my love. I’m sure you must’ve found something to busy yourself with, though?” You hum, teasing. You have a good idea of where this is going.

Spencer’s quiet for a moment, so you turn to look at him. His lips are pressed into a thin line, looking almost nervous, and his cheeks are flushed red. Spencer finally presses his body close to yours, and you feel it–

“Spence,” you grin, “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“Thought about it– Thought about you all day,” Spencer mumbles. “You promised.”

“What did I promise, baby?” you egg him on, eager to hear him say it, even though you definitely know what he’s going to ask. 

“That we would do it again tonight,” he answers, but you shoot him a look. “You said we would have sex again tonight.”

“Twice in one day? I don’t know, baby,” you pretend to sound disinterested.

Spencer looks at you with wide eyes. Respectful as ever, he clears his throat. “Please? If you’re tired we don’t have to, but I really want to. Only if you want to, though. This involves both of us, I don’t want to impose–”

You giggle, reaching to hold his hands. “God, you’re perfect.”

“What–?” Spencer barely gets the word out before you’re kissing him. He’s happy to do so, holding your face gently, matching your energy perfectly. You feel his cock pressing against you. 

“I turned you into a sex fiend,” you laugh, between kissing him, “And you’re still thinking about making sure I’m into it too.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, like he can’t comprehend how he could be into it if you weren’t too. “And I- I’m not a sex fiend, I just–”

Smiling, you whisper sultrily, “I think you should take me right here, baby.”

“Oh–” You cut Spencer off with another kiss, and he squeaks as you reach for his half-hard cock through his sweatpants. You’re positively delighted that Spencer’s like this, for you.

Spencer kisses you deeply, leaning forward until the small of your back hits the edge of the table. His hands coming up to your ass, he lifts you up, getting you to lay back on the table. You gasp, as Spencer kisses down the column of your neck, his hands making quick work of the buttons of your dress shirt. His lips are soft against your skin, at the swell of your breasts. Your shirt gets pushed off your shoulders. You feel him unhook your bra with a surprising ease, tossed aside, and then his hands are grabbing your tits like they were made for him. His thumbs brush over your nipples, a little forceful as he kneads at you, and your head is spinning. 

“Spencer,” you moan, as he kisses down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants to reveal your soaked-through underwear. He smiles up at you, his messy mop of hair a lovely sight. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s big brown eyes dart down to where you’re soaked, then back up at you.

Your eyes widen. “Yes. If you want to.”

Spencer grins. “Of course I want to.”

His fingers are gentle on your hips as he pulls your panties off, wasting no time in spreading your legs so he can get between them. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, feeling kind of self-conscious over how eager he is to be doing this. Knelt between your thighs, he lifts one of your legs and swings them over his shoulder. You can feel his stubble on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his nose nudging against your clit. His tongue comes up, wet and hot, as he tastes you for the first time. “Spencer–”

He presses his face impossibly closer, more urgent in eating you out. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, his jaw flexing as his tongue works on you, and you’re trembling already. Spencer’s extremely good with his mouth, and you’re surprised at how good he’s making you feel, considering he likely hasn’t done this before. The sounds of his mouth are wet and squelchy and so obscene, and you would feel almost embarrassed, were it not for how into this Spencer seems to be too, 

With your hands in his hair, you cry out when Spencer’s tongue circles your swollen clit, jolts of pleasure sent through your body. You can’t think straight when Spencer’s face is buried between your legs, eating you out like he was made for this. All you can think about is how gifted Spencer is with his tongue, and how you wish you could do this all night. 

“Please, love,” you moan, “Need you to fuck me.”

Spencer hums in approval, the vibrations between your legs making you jump. He makes a little wet slurping noise before he comes back up, and you feel your cunt throb when he looks up at you with his lovely, wide brown eyes, and his chin wet and messy with your slick. Spencer wipes his face with the back of his hand, and you’re so turned on you might just explode.

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly. “I think this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I love you.”

“What is? Having sex on my dinner table?” Spencer quips, as he sets your legs down and stands back up. He has a cocky grin plastered on his face. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “First time for everything, right?”

Spencer nods, smiling, before he leans forward to kiss you sweetly. You watch as he pulls his sweatpants down, his cock bobbing up, red and angry and rock hard. You feel yourself salivating at the sight, but decide that he needs to fuck you right now.

“Spencer,” you mewl, feeling breathless as you watch him wrap a hand around himself, stroking his length. Concentration is written all over his face and it makes you want to kiss him. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” Spencer says, pressing his cock forward until he’s lined up with your entrance. It’s so tantalising, the way the blunt head of his cock threatens to slip into you. You’re so wet and so loose for him, and you need him inside of you now.

You gasp when he finally pushes in, his thick cock splitting you in half as he slides into you. The pressure is so perfect, the slow draw of his hips as he takes care not to rush, wanting to take care of you. Even with all this still being new for Spencer, he still focuses on you, puts you first. You’re not sure if you’re swooning over him, or the way his cock fits inside you perfectly.

You don’t need to encourage him to start moving. He rocks his hips slowly, somehow already familiar with your body, and makes you feel like you could explode with pleasure. 

He leans forward, pressing his body to yours as he kisses you. Like this, Spencer presses into you deeper, fucks you slow and deep and loving. The edge of the table is absolutely digging into your back, but you don’t care when every sense of yours is filled with Spencer, getting to taste and touch and hear him. You taste yourself on his tongue, hear the sloppy way he thrusts into you, your skin burning wherever he’s pressed up against you. 

Burying his face in your neck, Spencer pants in your ear, hot and heavy as he fucks you, giving you everything you need. Your head is swimming with arousal, as Spencer presses you against the table and fucks you like his life depends on it. “You feel so good, fuck, so good–”

“I’m so close, baby,” you cry out, the pace absolutely ruthless as Spencer fucks you. You didn’t think his stamina would be this good, considering your boyfriend’s lanky stature and abhorrence towards exercise. You certainly wouldn’t mind doing this kind of cardio with him more often. “Please, Spence–”

“Let go, I– I’m here for you,” Spencer stumbles over his words, but he’s so sweet that you’re losing yourself, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. You scream as you reach your peak, your toes curling while Spencer fucks you through it, shaking as pleasure and arousal zips through your body. Spencer’s hips stutter as the tightness of your pussy has him reeling, too close too quickly. 

While his hips keep a steady pace, you’re feeling loopy as Spencer continues to fuck you. You hold his head close to you, kissing his forehead as you murmur, “You’re so hot, Spence. Made me come so quickly, and you held out for me? So good for me, baby. Are you close?”

Spencer whines, a pitiful noise in the back of his throat. “Please, I’m so close, need you–”

“I’m right here, baby,” you coo, stroking his sweat-matted hair sweetly. You’re so enamoured with him. “Gonna cum inside me, Spence? Fill me up with your–”

You don’t even get to finish your dirty talk before Spencer is moaning, coming inside of you. It feels like he’s released so much inside of you, hot and messy as he fucks you through his own high. His chest heaves as he pants, trembling as he reels from the intensity of his orgasm. Spencer’s hips slow to a stop, and he mouths at your neck mindlessly until he seems to get his bearings back. You imagine you must look a mess, sweat and spit all over you, your makeup from a long day of work likely running by now. 

Spencer gets up off of you, so both of you have space to catch your breaths. You feel Spencer slip out of you with a slick ‘pop’, and feel his release trickle out of you just moments after. You stifle a quiet moan, but when you look up at Spencer, his eyes couldn’t possibly leave the sight between your legs. His lips are parted slightly, pupils blown wide, as he watches you drip with his release. You feel Spencer’s cock, resting against your inner thigh, twitch slightly. 

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckle, out of breath. “Give me a minute to recover.”

His eyes practically twinkle when they dart up to look at you. He’s like an excited puppy as he asks, “Again?”

You shake your head, laughing, and sit up to kiss Spencer again. “Maybe we could try something new?”

Spencer grins, nodding eagerly. It definitely seems like he’s down for whatever, as long as it’s with you. 

[loveliluc]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ make up for lost time ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

— ft. alhaitham, diluc, neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli

synopsis — even when they arrive home from work much later than usual, there you are, ready and willing to welcome them into your arms; 3.7k words.

— minors do not interact! unprotected sex. oral. fingering. mirror play. kissing. sexual language. afab!reader with no use of specific pronouns. sub!reader.

— alhaitham 𝜗𝜚

acting grand sage alhaitham this, acting grand sage alhaitham that. alhaitham has lost count of how many times he’s heard that title today, a perpetual reminder of his current station and a thorn in his side. he isn’t one to do more than required of him, what with his resolute desire to live an easy life. but one thing he is is dutiful. he will do his job, as scribe or acting grand sage alike, because doing his job well will save him the hassle further down the line. but this isn’t to say alhaitham isn’t annoyed with the situation he’s found himself in, temporary as it may be. he’s beyond aggravated as he leaves the akademiya, the sun already well beyond setting. another long day. his annoyance doesn’t last much longer through the threshold of his home, however. especially not when he sees you curled on the couch with a book. he almost sighs of relief when your pretty eyes turn upwards to meet his.

“you’re home,” you say in greeting. you snap your book shut gently as your body turns to face him, already preparing to welcome him in as you watch him move closer.

“you waited up for me again.” it’s a matter of fact statement, and it falls off alhaitham’s lips in a dull tone, but you know him, and know that he feels somewhat bad that you’ve stayed up so late just for him. but he’s grateful for you all the same. his toned body collapses next to you on the couch, quickly bringing you in close with one arm. you’re eager to receive the embrace and quick to settle yourself upon his lap.

you nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe; you’ve missed him. “i’m glad you’re home.” your arms are around his shoulders and you sigh when his hands find your waist and squeeze. the man below you simply grunts, and you know he’s beyond tired from the day. “i missed you today.”

alhaitham’s hands smooth over the curves of you and finally slip under your shirt to feel your skin. he feels you shudder. “oh yeah?” he’s never been a man in need of affirmative words, but he can’t help but love to hear you say that you missed him, him of all people.

“mhm.” your hands are toying with his hair now, fingers tangling in the silvery locks. you can’t help the involuntary grind of your hips.

the man beneath you grunts again at the action, your clothed cunt warm against his groin. his fingers travel higher up under your shirt just as he feels your lips against his neck. “how much?” he hears you sigh and feels the heat of your breath. his skin is littered with goosebumps, and they don’t go unnoticed by you. and he’s not concerned with hiding the effect you have on him.

“a lot,” you reply against his skin, your hips rolling again. you feel something hardening under you, and it grazes your heat in a way that makes you shudder. you pull your head away to look at his handsome yet tired face. “care for a demonstration?”

he smirks. “by all means.” and you’re so eager to show him, to prove to him the way you yearned for him all day. and he doesn’t speak it aloud just yet, but he doesn’t need words when his hard cock that springs out of his pants is sufficient evidence that he has also longed for you. you’re on your knees now, taking his length in your hand. he’s hot and solid in your grasp, and already so sensitive as he takes the first plunge into your welcoming mouth.

you hollow your cheeks and suck after taking what you can of him. your hand wraps around what’s left, and the combination has the scribe-turned-acting-grand-sage groaning above you. he’s so heavy on your tongue, and he tastes so good just like he always does. you’re already a mess between your thighs, panties dampened with your slick. you clench your thighs as you suck him off. the taste of him and the sounds of his raspy groans are getting to you, accelerated by your desperation.

alhaitham watches you bob up and down his shaft through hazy vision. his eyes are heavy with sleepiness, but also lust as he admires the way you swallow him. fuck, he’s missed you. it’s so evident in the way he reaches his end quickly with one final push of his cock in your mouth, his hot cum spilling down your throat. you take all he has to give and then some until he’s pulling you off him.

you swallow the last of his release while your eyes remain on his. his hand tightens in your hair. “was that good enough proof, hm?” the man above you smirks.

he’s pulling you into his lap again until your face is only mere inches away. he can feel the way your arousal has seeped through your shorts with the way you settle yourself over his bare cock. alhaitham kisses you once, twice, thrice. “i suppose,” he whispers against your skin. “but now i think it’s my turn to show you, yes?”

— diluc 𝜗𝜚

it’s no secret that your husband diluc is a busy man, to say the least. he wears many hats, and has many responsibilities. he’s dutiful in all things, dedicated and diligent. anyone would be hard pressed to find someone more committed to mondstadt than him. he does so much beyond what people are even aware of, and as much as you adore how honorable and noble he is, you can’t deny that you some times grow tired of how busy he is. he always does his best to pamper you when he can, to be the most attentive, caring spouse he can be to you. and he is very much that and more. you couldn’t ask for a better husband, it’s just…you wish you could have more time with him. and as for the last few days, he’s been even more busy than usual.

and diluc knows this, so painfully aware of his absence. which is why he wastes no time in heading towards the direction of your bedroom after getting home tonight. it’s so late that even the winery staff have already retired for the night; it’s quiet, but diluc doesn’t linger near the front door too long in worry some other obstacle may stand in his way of you. his heart is fluttering faster the closer he gets to your door, and it all but bursts in his chest when his eyes find your form. you’re springing off the bed before he can even register your movement, but his natural reflex to always reach out for you allows him to catch you when you barrel into his strong chest.

“you’re home.” you’re relieved, immensely so. your body melts in his warm embrace and you almost purr with content when you feel him relax around you.

diluc’s overwhelmed by your scent and he feels like his knees could give way any moment. as elated as he is that you’re awake to greet him, he’s overly aware of the hour and a worry rises within him. “and you’re still awake. should you not be asleep, my love?”

“can’t sleep without you,” you whine. “wanted to see you when you got home. i missed you so much.” and the pouty eyes that look up at him just about does him in for good.

he feels the way you cling to him, and he breathes a chuckle while he kisses your forehead. you’re too cute. “i cannot deny that i’m happy to be welcomed by you. i have missed you as well, my love.” and he’s pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, and he only intends for it to be a quick gesture but the way you tug and pull at him keeps him rooted in place.

the longer you kiss him the more heated things turn. you’re clambering at the lapels of his coat because you simply cannot get close enough; his hands are in a firm press around your hips and soon enough he’s pushing you backwards towards the large bed. there’s so much you both could say, so much left unsaid from all the time apart, but the best way either of you could express it all is through desperate touches and sighs. and it all escalates until he’s balls deep inside your warm, wet cunt, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders.

diluc isn’t precise in his rhythm, his cock driving wildly into your warmth and it’s all he can do to keep himself together. you’re already so overwhelmed under him, nails in his skin and his name on your lips. his mouth is all over your face, your lips, and then your neck. “missed you, missed this tight little pussy. i — hah — am so sorry, my love. promise i’ll make it all u-up to you.”

and you have no doubt he will. it doesn’t really matter how much time he spends away when he’s always so good at coming back to you at the end of the day. your face is buried in his shoulder as you wail out his name. “diluc! ‘m so close! don’t stop!”

diluc groans when you squeeze him so good. a hand snakes down between your body to press a warm thumb to your puffy clit. “will never stop, my love. never stop making you feel good. so good.” and he doesn’t stop that night; he’s tired, you’re tired, but neither of you could get enough after all the time apart.

— neuvillette 𝜗𝜚

neuvillette suspects there must be something in the water as of late, because the oddities he’s endured in such a short amount of time are abundant. his job as iudex has been particularly peculiar lately, or rather, the trials he has been overseeing have been quite…out of the ordinary. there’s been more legal documents atop his desk as of late, and as the ever diligent chief justice that he is, he allocates all of his time to make sure they’re properly sorted. a hectic work schedule wouldn’t be so unbearable though if the thought of you didn’t dwell on his mind every waking moment…

you’re his motivation to push through every document, to be done with his responsibilities and finally leave his office and seek out your presence that awaits him at home. he groans at the thought of you waiting for him, your pretty little self eager for him and only him. his trousers are becoming all too tight the more he muses upon you; it’s too much, you’re too much and you’re not even near him. he feels wildly inappropriate getting so worked up within his office, at his place of work. it’s so shameful, but he supposes it cannot be helped. all he can do now is finish as quickly as possible so he can alleviate his pent up sexual frustration.

it’s late when he arrives home, and neuvillette is certain you’re well asleep by now. but to his pleasant surprise, you’re very much awake when he steps into your shared bedroom, sitting at the large vanity. he’s stunned for a moment as he watches you; why does it feel like it’s been ages since he’s last seen you? you’re brushing through your hair but stop when you notice him, your gaze meeting his through the mirror.

you make his heart leap in his chest when you give him a smile in the reflection. “welcome home.” it’s so simple but he feels all the stress wash off of him at your attention. his feet are moving on their own accord, and you stay put to welcome him in once he’s close.

“my dear, my love.” neuvillette sighs out in both relief and adoration while he towers behind you. he’s bending forward and burying his face in your nape, and his breath makes goosebumps erupt all over your skin. his gloved hands are squeezing at your shoulders before wrapping around to settle against your waist. you giggle when he peppers kisses along your throat and shoulder.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you missed me,” you tease, leaning into his embrace. your eyes watch the reflection, and you enjoy the sight of his larger frame around you. “is that a fair statement, love?”

neuvillette groans; it’s a sound that slips out more guttural and needy than he intends. “very fair, indeed.” his hands smooth over the silk of your night gown and you exhale. his need from earlier is returning with a vengeance, dick throbbing pathetically in his pants. your smell, your body, it’s all affecting him. “you’ve taken over my mind all day. I simply could not escape you in the slightest. very distracting, i must say.”

you sigh when his large hands rise up your arms to toy with the thin straps of your night gown. he tugs them off your shoulders the moment he nibbles at your neck, and you can’t help the moan that flows forth. “show me, neuvillette. show me all the ways you thought about me while you were away.”

and oh, he does. he soon has your breasts free to his viewing and feeling pleasure, one large palm around one of the plush mounds of flesh, fingers pinching at the pebbled nipple. his other still gloved hand is plunged between your thighs, two fingers knuckle deep in your weepy cunt. he watches you in the mirror and it’s a nasty sight, and when your eyes find his he almost meets his end right then and there. he fucks you on his fingers while his thumb works over your swollen pearl, urging you to your climax with haste.

“neuvillette, m-my love —” you dissolve into pleasure before you can finish your words, your high overwhelming all of your senses. it’s so intense, amplified by the way your eyes remained locked on his through it all;

neuvillette guides you through your high and relishes in the way your cum soaks through his gloves. he’s kissing your temple as you calm down, but he is far from finished with you. “well done, my love. now,” he urges you on your wobbly feet. “lay on the bed for me.”

— wriothesley 𝜗𝜚

the duke doesn’t get to see the topside often. leaving the depths of the fortress is a rarity, but when he does ascend to the world above, it’s always to make his way home to you. but as luck — or lack thereof — would have it, spending time at home with you has become even more rare these days. being the warden is a never ending job, and his responsibilities persist even when he misses you so much it hurts. he’s wrangling new inmates when he’d much rather be tangled up with you, your knees folded over your form, and him balls deep inside —

wriothesley grunts when his dick throbs impatiently in his slacks. he’s fumbling with his keys in a frantic search for the house key because he quite simply cannot get inside fast enough; there’s an overwhelming urgency to be inside you that’s compelling him to practically knock down the front door once it’s unlocked. it’s been much too long since he’s been graced with the sweet wrap of your cunt. he’s almost sprinting through the house towards your shared bedroom; fuck, he hopes you’re still awake. and thank the archons, you’re awake and so beautiful and right in front of him with the prettiest little smile that’s beckoning him closer.

“ah, there you are!” you’re sitting up in bed and wriothesley almost falls to his knees at the sight of you in one of his shirts. “i was beginning to think you weren’t coming home at all.”

“sorry, darlin’,” he’s climbing over the bed, his icy gaze locked on his target: you. “tried my best to make it on time. you haven’t been waiting up for me, have you?” and he knows you have and he’s grateful. his pretty darling staying up just to welcome him home.

you hum and open your thighs so he can slot himself between them. your fingers are quick to tangle in his hair and you almost hear him purr. “not too long, i suppose. but you’ll need to be quicker next time, or else i won’t be so forgiving.”

the duke in your hold smirks widely, and you feel a pulse between your thighs at the sight. “understood.” wriothesley presses a quick peck to your nose and you giggle; the sound is music to his ears, but as he travels down your body, he’s in search for a much different tune. he hikes up your — his — shirt and sighs at the sight of your panties, which he’s swift to hook two fingers underneath. he tugs them to the side and you so obediently widen your legs for him, to show him. “mmh, guess this means i’ve got some making up to do, huh?”

you don’t get to respond. well, not with words at least. you’re gasping when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, your fingers that are still in his hair tugging at the sudden sensation. “wriothesley!”

he smirks against your sex before offering another suctioned kiss to your mound. he follows it up with long swipe of his tongue through your folds and he earns himself the most precious moan from you. “you’ve got the prettiest and sweetest little pussy, darlin’. been missing her so much.”

you burn red at his words. soon enough he’s making a sticky mess between your thighs, and all you can do is lay there and take it while he laps up your essence like a dog. “fuck, wrio! that…that feels so good!” your legs are beginning to shake as he winds you up to your release.

“is that right, darlin?” wriothesley gleams up at you, distracting you with his devilishly handsome face while his fingers sneak their way to your entrance. he might not be punctual in getting back home to you tonight, but he’s eager to get in your good graces once again.

— zhongli 𝜗𝜚

zhongli thinks that maybe he’s getting too old for this after yet another errand for the wangsheng funeral parlor. there’s been an uptick in responsibilities recently, and the ever energetic director has been full of many requests for the consultant. and he powers through them, but all zhongli can focus on is the way he misses you terribly. all he wants is to get home to you at a decent hour, to spend time with you for a moment before you both have to retire for the night to prepare for the day ahead. it’s a domestic lifestyle the ex geo archon finds himself, working a steady job with a wonderful spouse waiting for him at home. he doesn’t want it another way truly. the only time he grows tired is when his work life overwhelms his personal one, leaving him with less time with you.

zhongli ponders back on this morning; you underneath him, your hands in his hair, his name on your pretty lips as he fills you with two long fingers. the way your back arches into him, the way you shudder and weep. it’s so clear in his mind, him so close to taking you on his cock before he realizes just how late he’s running for work. he never got to have you, to relish in your tightness, and he swears he hasn’t been able to get over it all day. the desire to have you grows the closer he gets home; he wonders if you’re still awake, and he also wonders if he’ll have the self control to not wake you up if you aren’t. he gets his answer when he walks into your shared home, his eyes finding you quickly.

you’re seated at the dining room table. you look so beautiful, and there’s a pot of tea with two cups sitting in front of you. you smile as he draws nearer. “welcome home,” you greet him. “i figured i’d wait up for you, and brew you a pot of tea. i know you’ve been working so hard lately.”

the god of old’s heart swells in chest. he smiles warmly. “you’re always so good to me, my dearest,” he praises as he closes the distance with a few more strides. when he’s able, he reaches out to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek affectionately. he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, and oh, how he’s missed you.

you hum in delight and look up at him with eyes so beautiful they might just bring this ex archon to his knees. you giggle when he dives back in for another kiss, and then another, and then one more. this one lasts, it’s slow and languid. but then you reach and grasp his collar to pull him closer, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changes.

it makes zhongli pause and chuckle, and he casts an almost apologetic glance at the teapot. “mmh, the tea will get cold…” he follows up his words with another searing kiss and clearly neither of you are too concerned with the tea. he’s handsy with you now and desperate to feel you, to pick back up where you both had left off this morning. he’s so hard, cock straining in his trousers, and when he plants you on the table and slips his fingers passed your underwear, he feels how aroused you are as well. you’re slippery with slick, and he groans. “my dearest, i simply must have you, is that alright?”

you nod eagerly. “y-yes, zhongli. please.” he absolutely cannot deny you when you sound so sweet.

which is why you find yourself a while later with your legs pinned to the table, your back arched in pleasure, and his cock nestled deep within your sodden cunt. the poor teacups rattle with every thrust of his hips, and even the table itself can’t withstand the way he takes you, the wooden furniture skidding across the floor. you’re so tight and warm and perfect around him. it’s maddening, and his large hands are squeezing your waist to keep himself grounded to reality. his tip kisses your womb repeatedly and you wail out his name. this is everything he’s been aching for all day. “so good for me. taking me so well, my dearest,” he groans. “i will never tire of coming home to you and this wonderful little pussy of yours.”

nat’s notes — if you’ve read until this point, thank you! this is my first fic/first time writing for genshin impact. so i figured this is the best time to introduce myself. i’m loveliluc aka nat! i’m new in the genshin impact fandom space, and new to the game overall as i only just started playing back in early september. guess you could say i’ve very much fallen down the genshin rabbit hole lol. i hope you enjoyed this first piece, and i look forward to posting more! would love any support on this, and would love to create new moots going forward. i also ask for patience as i am still getting to know many of the genshin characters so sorry if i write anyone ooc. thank you! <3

[anotherlongstoryshort]

Things about the Wisdom Saga that have plagued me all damn day

Legendary

Whether intentional or not, Miguel's Telemachus really sounds like a younger version of Jorge's Odysseus. And that hurts.

"If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?" The layers. Could he go out and hunt for his father? Could he find his 'legendary' strength within himself? Or will Odysseus be the 'monster' he finds?

"Somebody help me, come and give me the strength" And his call is answered T_T

20 years.

Antinous fully interrupts this bop. Rude.

Ayron sounds legitimately scary and Telemachus taking a stand is so O.O

Little Wolf

I wanna fight this guy. Love that Athena agrees. (The beat of the song and sharp bursts of vocals really emulate blows.)

The quaver on "I don't know how".

Athena is immediately charmed by Telemachus' enthusiasm. She sounds so fond.

The fact she sees heart in him as an advantage when it was Odysseus choosing heart over mind that drove them apart. Guh.

Did she tell him to bite Antinous? XD

"Oh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard." The change in her perspective is already so apparent - she wouldn't have admitted a mistake or miscalculation to Odysseus.

We'll Be Fine

"I had a friend before..." A FRIEND? FRIEND?!?!

An admission that she didn't fully appreciate what Odysseus was going through, that she feels guilty for having "missed it all".

It's unclear to begin with if she's come to Telemachus for Odysseus, or to try and replace him. Both are equally heart-breaking.

"I don't know who your friend is, I don't know what he's like" UNKNOWINGLY ECHOING HIS OWN THOUGHTS IN 'LEGENDARY'. NO IT'S FINE I'M FINE.

"The best day of my life because I got in a fight and I didn't die! :D" Telemachus, child, please.

"We'll be fine" using the same run as "this is my goodbye" T_T

Him immediately offering up friendship to Athena, like Odysseus once did, must hit her so hard. "You're a good kid." Yes he is - because he's more like his dad than he knows.

Love in Paradise

"Old friend..." FRRRRRIIIIEEEENNNNNDDDDD!!!!!

10 years.

The memory fragments sounding so fraught and chaotic together, hitting harder because they're hitting Athena all at once. She missed a lot.

"She's my wife." "Anyways..." Calypso, girl, please.

Love that they're singing completely different melodies through the first half of this song for two reasons: because Odysseus is revisiting previous motifs, once more trying to hold onto the man he was, and also because it shows Calypso is not willing to compromise on what she wants.

"Last I checked goddesses can't die." We'll come back to this later.

Then Odysseus realises he is truly trapped and he sings along to Calypso's melody in muted horror.

POLITIES OUT HERE STILL HAUNTING THE NARRATIVE.

Just the words "open arms" are enough to confront Odysseus (again) with all he's lost. All he hears are screams.

And the one he screams out for is Athena.

"He needs my help." NO KIDDING GO GET YOUR BOY.

God Games

"Father, God, King..." There's a lot to unpack in that fun family dynamic.

"To untie apprehensions that were placed on that Greek?" Zeus is like, nobody likes that guy, why do you care?

The gods being called out like X Factor finalists is everything.

So there's a great contrast against the previous song - unlike Calypso, Athena is matching each of her singing partners with their tone and beat as she convinces them. She isn't winning by 'imposing her will', she's meeting them where they are.

Rational arguments work until Aphrodite, where Athena says "please" for the first time. She softens to appeal to Aphrodite, which is why Ares has to step in.

The way she says his name XD

Ares' lines sound like as much of a fighting chant as 'Little Wolf' did, which makes it all the better that the mention of Telemachus is what gets her to 'fight back'.

"His son's my friend!" YES HE IS. And Athena of all people declaring "a broken heart can mend" is fascinating. Can't help but wonder if she's talking about herself coming around to forgiving Odysseus.

"Never once has he cheated on his wife." Handwaving the source material is worth it for this line ALONE.

Zeus is so pressed by everyone openly knowing he cheats on Hera. Stop doing it then my dude.

Ares sounding genuinely concerned for Athena is doing things to me. Goddesses can't die, huh?

Her time motif flitting in and out like a weak heartbeat.

The soft piano of 'Warrior of the Mind', touching on a whisper of 'Legendary', then rising to a triumphant crescendo as Athena regains herself. I will be forever haunted by visions of Odysseus and Telemachus helping her to her feet.

And then, finally, she faces her own father and begs. Because Odysseus and Telemachus deserve a chance to be father and child.

The parallel, by the way, of Athena entering this saga to help an outnumbered Telemachus, and now closing it with him/Odysseus unknowingly helping her win her own battle too. JORGE HOW DARE YOU T_T

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

could we get some gally headcannons please?👀

Whatever you want to write🩷

Thank you ❤️

gally in a relationship headcanons

masterlist

finally some gally love <3 idc what anyone says, his eyebrows are beautiful. NSFW BELOW.

the glade

enemies to lovers type shit. i'm talking y'all would go as far as avoiding meal times just to avoid seeing each other.

he'd always be staring at you—from across the glade, through the bonfire, literally all the time.

sooo many interactions would end with y'all being up in each other's faces and throwing petty insults.

you'd slap him if he says anything that borders on sexism. he eventually learns what's what.

'there's a thin line between love and hate'.

other gladers would get so annoyed by how much he talks about you. his favourite excuse: "she just pisses me off so much".

but there's no excuse for jerking off to the thought of you late at night.

honestly, he would probably realise he likes you when you scull his secret recipe drink in front of him.

he'd ignore his feelings until you're the only thing on his mind and it infuriates him so fucking much.

you would be arguing one time and then suddenly he kisses you. the kiss would be aggressive, heated, and most likely up against a tree or hut.

suprisingly, his confession after would be very vulnerable and tender.

everyone is confused the next day when you're practically glued to each other's sides

gally would be very protective and borderline possessive. he'd hate it whenever other guys stare or talk about you.

would probably end up in a fistfight over it.

he'd be a rough/passionate kisser.

he'd be very into thighs. his hands are big and calloused so he'd enjoy wrapping them around the plush of your thighs, kneading the soft warm skin in his hand.

despite his gruff and harsh demeanour, he would always hold/touch you with utmost delicateness, apart from heated moments.

guards you whenever you shower.

would break so many rules for you. reluctantly, of course.

y'all know the term 'sleeper build'? that's gally. he might not seem extremely muscly at first glance, but once he starts heavy-lifting and building, his arms are legit bulging.

your first time together wouldn't be too great, but once you practice more, it gets good. like, really good.

love love loves receiving but also thoroughly enjoys making you come and knowing only he can do it.

his favourite sex position would be holding you up against a wall. he likes feeling strong.

arguments would almost always end with him taking you into the forest and fucking you against a tree.

when he gets stung, he would probably fight through the changing to tell you he loves you one last time before getting speared. oop.

the last city

when y'all reunite, you'd both collapse to the floor in each other's arms kissing and crying which surprises you. the gally you knew was not a crier or favoured public affection.

gally changed a lot since you last saw him, emotionally and physically. he is taller, more muscular, and has a more level-headed and calmer attitude.

he'd be more emotionally available and willing to be open and vulnerable with you.

the first thing y'all do when you're alone is have sex. and he even fucks differently.

the better wording would be 'make love' instead of 'fuck'.

he is much more gentle and loving and focuses on your needs wayyy more than his own. he couldn't believe how aggressive he previously was with you, how selfish he was.

he would worship your body and show you how much you really mean to him.

you would make him leave his mask on one time while y'all fuck. its hot af.

would always be touching you—an arm wrapped around your waist, holding your hand, your thighs, etc.

the hugs, man. he'd literally pick you up and engulf you in his arms. all the time. this mf had a severe epiphany and realised his love language was touch.

would always be complimenting you. "you're beautiful, you know that?", "god, you're a fucking angel.", etc

wouldn't get mad if other guys talked to or stared at you anymore. he would probably joke about it with them instead.

well, maybe he would be a little aggressive.

"yeah, ha-ha, careful or i'll throw you to the cranks".

trusts you to be able to take care of yourself but is still a major worrier, especially during the war within the city.

after arriving at the safe haven, he would build a house for you. you would enjoy watching him because, well... muscles.

all in all, gally would be an extremely different man compared to the one you first met, making your love for him stronger than it had ever been.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Pearl of The Realm

Aemond x wife!reader | HOTD Big Bang!

Summary: Duty meant a lot of things to Aemond. But he had hoped that it would not mean marriage. And when the day comes for him to confront it, he finds with his new wife, small, naiive and innocent, that there is some pleasure to be found there also.

Word Count: 9,240 (oops) | Warnings below the cut~

A/N: My fic for the HOTD Big Bang! Thank you to the lovely @solisarium for the artwork! 🥰 Please also support all the other lovely writers/artists over @hotd-bigbang, and thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organising this event ❤

Warnings: arranged marriage, virginity loss, p in v sex, domination, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, canon typical sexism, aemond has a breeding kink (obvi), dark!aemond (ish)

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

To the realm. His title. But most of all, his family.

As a Prince of the Realm, he had many duties.

For most of his adult life he had trained relentlessly with the sword, striving to become better than his own teacher.

He had buried his nose in books, absorbing  information from them, willing them to stick to the insides of his head to obtain intelligence unmatched by any other member of his family.

And, most of all, he had upheld his faithful relationship with his mother, whom he cherished dearly, and his sister equally.

He'd always felt close to the women in his life. But his mother had a special place in his heart. She had been through such hardships, such sacrifice.

And when she'd exploded that night in Driftmark, as inexcusable as she seemed the behaviour to be, he had felt such utter devotion towards her that she would be so angry on his behalf. At a time when he had felt so vulnerable, and felt that his own voice as well as hers had been ignored by the man in their lives.

A man who had so repeatedly, let them down.

He would never admit it out loud, but a part of him sought pleasure in the fact his father was largely bed-bound these days. Even more so that his own father had lost an eye as a result of his worsening condition.

It felt like the Gods were looking down on him and validating him.

But there was one duty he had yet to perform.

Taking a wife.

Unfortunately for him, that time was upon him, and he had no interest in it whatsoever.

As much as Alicent tried, and she really did try, she could not get her second son interested in courting the ladies at the Keep.

As soon as Aemond clapped an eye on the opposite sex, he would retreat in the opposite direction. Not even bothering to engage in conversation, surmising perhaps that he had little in common with them.

He'd never met a lady before who shared the same interests, why start actively seeking them out now?

Alicent's son was in his prime, rooted in adulthood, and she knew it was time, like it or not, that he was wed.

Aemond stood stock still, hands behind his back curled into fists, biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to show his mother the annoyance on his face. Her words were those of truth. He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head.

What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned.

That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position.

Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now.

He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court.

And mercifully, Aemond sighed with relief that she was not.

Something struck deep within his chest. His mother spoke of her so wonderfully, as if she were a star plucked from the sky, and Aemond pondered if such attributes could be proven correct by simply meeting her once, as Alicent had. What woman, and of what standing, deserved such praise, after only meeting for a short time?

What would she look like? Her mannerisms, her stature, her smile? He found himself haunted by these thoughts without even knowing the woman’s name. Much less, her appearance.

He feared that she might share the same sentiments as the other ladies at court once they were due to meet, chaperoned by her ladies and tainted by their company. Perhaps they had their own opinions that they instilled on her also. She might be afraid of him, he thought. Maybe it is not so bad if she feared him, he allowed himself to think.

Aemond could not find it in his heart to expose himself so willingly to a stranger he was due to wed, and so when word reached the Keep that she had arrived and made her pleasantries, he thought to have mercy on the poor thing, stay clear and not dim her supposed ethereal presence with the darkness that followed at his back since the day he lost his eye.

There was some power in not allowing her to see him until their wedding day.

While a small part of him felt empathetic to the poor girl, that her betrothed chose not to greet her on arrival, another part of him was somewhat self-assured that he had made the right decision. It was the little power he felt he had.

When one thinks of a wedding, they might imagine the Sept beaming with joy, crammed with people all eager to feast their eyes on the new royal couple. But as Aemond stood before the Septon, with the extended feeling of nervousness at the fact she had yet to arrive, he could hear nothing.The Sept was dead silent. The people, the lords and ladies, as well as his family, were in attendance, watching with wide, curious eyes, too terrified to make a sound.

His hands were rigid behind his back, dressed in his finery, feeling the tightness of his clothes against his chest where his heart was hammering underneath.

For duty. For family.

He did not see her at first, as she was on his blind side, but once she’d well and truly stepped beside him, he spared a glance at her and felt his mouth go utterly dry.

Her dress, which he presumed were her house colours, was a light pastel, almost dream-like when combined with the translucent silky fabric graced atop it. He watched with curiosity as she let go of her father’s hand. Her gaze and almost undetectable smile was warm and inviting, as if the space around her was simply alight with her presence. Her father peeled the cloak from her shoulders, and it reminded him that he had the cloak with the Targaryen colours fisted in his grip.

Her hair was pinned up in a series of braids, all varying in size, and he was ashamed to admit that the first thought that came to mind was not that she looked beautiful with them, but that they must be uncomfortable. He was allowed to have his hair loose around his shoulders, whereas this woman, and he supposed others like her, were prodded and poked to look their best to the detriment of their comfort.

Aemond found it impossible to stare ahead and listen to the Septon, and he could’ve let a heavy breath loose when he was asked to cloak her. He swallowed over the lump in his throat that had formed and lifted his gaze to look down at her. Her bright, warm eyes looked up at him, revealing nothing about what she was really thinking, and her lips were full and looked soft, forcing him to think what they would feel like when they would sign their marriage with a kiss later.

He took a breath and placed the cloak on her shoulders, half thinking that such a heavy, large thing would swallow her whole, for her form was smaller than his, and therefore more delicate. Placing his hands on her, but not directly, still felt somewhat intimate, especially in a room of so many people watching. But something stirred deep within when he stepped back and observed that the colours complimented her, like she was meant to be his and belong to him.

They faced each other as the Septon spoke.

Aemond watched every micro-movement. The fluttering of her eyelashes, the deep intakes of breath through her nose and her thumb brushing over her hand, in what he could only assume was nerves, though she was hiding it well on her face.

It was only here that he noticed she wore a dainty pearl necklace, not at all gaudy in size, but small and delicate, like he perceived her to be.

A feeling he didn’t know hummed in his blood. And it showed when both of them were asked to conclude the ceremony with a kiss.

“With this kiss I pledge my love.”

Aemond had to be the one to lean down to meet her in the middle, and he felt his blood thrum when their lips met, excited to find that her lips were as soft as he had imagined. He could not help the lewd thought that passed through his mind, and wondered if the rest of her was as supple and luxurious.

Curse the wedding feast, he wanted to find out right after the ceremony.

He was not overzealous with the kiss, not wanting to frighten her. But he was equally delighted when they parted to the applause of the lords and ladies, to find that her cheeks were faintly bloomed with warmth. His lips pulled into an indistinct smile at the idea that he was the first man that would have made her feel that way, and it pulled a possessive string in Aemond’s body towards her.

He took her hand in his and led her away from the Septon, through the line of people, and relished in the fact that she was now his. Aemond felt somewhat ashamed when his manhood began to harden within his breeches at the mere touch of her hand, and wondered what hers would look like wrapped around it. If her fingers could barely encircle it, and if she would be good and pliant, do as she’s told, and please him.

The wine during the feast surprisingly did nothing to quell the hardness between his legs. He yearned so desperately for her, sat right next to him, posture straight and proper like a good lady wife, with her hands clasped so delicately in her lap. She had yet to say a word to him and he thought she must have been raised very strict, not speaking to her betters without being spoken to first, and now that person was her husband.

It was difficult not to look unimpressed when the various lords and ladies all queued up to provide their congratulations to the intimate little table he and his wife were seated at during the feast.

He watched his mother beam with joy, though he and his wife had not spoken. Aegon had snickered, clearly thinking something inappropriate. And Otto had bowed, offering congratulations as if he had not been involved in the match behind the scenes along with Alicent the entire time. Did he think he was stupid?

Not even his father had managed to pull himself from his bed to offer his congratulations. But, Aemond thought then, he was glad he didn't have to see his face.

At times he could suppress his sheer boredom and impatience, he wanted them all to leave him alone so he could fuck his wife and see what pretty sounds she could make. With the absence of her voice, it only made him more impatient to find out.

Surely, the girl might not have been afraid of him? He thought.

Aemond almost regretted hoping she was afraid of him, but there was some dull excitement in thinking she was, even now, with how beautiful she looked. When he takes her maidenhead, as he was sure she was entirely pure, would her soft eyes look up at him in fear, or in pleasure, or both?

He found his gaze wandering over her for several quiet moments, watching her profile as she scanned the hall, observing everyone else enjoying themselves. Whilst he appeared somewhat indifferent to her to anyone else’s untrained eye, he was otherwise calm and collected. Her lips glistened against the warm amber glow of the candles adorning the table, and he could not hide his delight in seeing how she swallowed nervously. She must have felt his gaze on her, he thought. And as he watched her throat bob, he was drawn to her chest, where the pearls lay, and watched as her breathing pushed her breasts somewhat over the bust of her dress.

He imagined those pearls dancing while he fucked her, her breasts moving with the rhythm of driving his cock into her sweet wetness. Her lips parted with hurried breaths as she struggled to gain it while she appeased him with the sound of her soft moans.

“Are the celebrations to your liking, wife?”

He smirked, testing the title on his tongue.

The insides of him glimmered in excitement when she turned, her posture still perfect and straight. Her wide, innocent eyes met his with curiosity, and also fright that he had spoken to her in such a way. She almost seemed to flinch at the new title he’d referred to her as.

She gave an almost indistinguishable nod, her grip tightening on her hands, “Yes, husband, thank you.” She replied with a wavering voice.

She studied him for a moment, watching as he gave a lopsided smirk, adoring the way she seemed so nervous in his presence, and speaking to her husband. He drank slowly, continuing to watch her squirm under his gaze. Her breathing had hastened, evident by the way she struggled under the tight confines of her boned dress.

Her voice was smooth, like the sweetest honey, and he couldn’t wait to hear how it would translate, echoing throughout their marital chambers, with his flesh pressed against hers.

He never imagined merely envisioning power over something so delicate could be so exhilarating.

Aemond had to hide how elated he was when their leave was announced. He stood, and therefore she did as well, like a delayed little shadow.

She was an obedient little thing, he surmised, as she followed quietly, willfully ignorant to the leering glances and smirks of the lords and ladies who parted a path for them. Every single one of them was curious, as to how such a quiet, soft girl could tame someone so fearsome and chaotic as a dragon prince, who could not be caged in as mere mortal men could.

The chambers seemed too grand, too clunky, to house such a perfect thing as her, he thought. She stood stock still in the middle of his chambers, which he would now share with her, and watched amused as she looked around and took in her surroundings as if she were in some kind of danger. Her pupils flitted about the darkened room, lit only in a warm glow from various candlesticks placed most deliberately.

Her pale dress cast a glow against the grey of the room, as well as her aura, which seemed to lift all the tension from his body and direct it to the place he had needed her the most since he laid his eye on her.

The glass decanter clinked as he poured himself a cup of wine, his back to her.

Aemond turned and extended the decanter only slightly, asking wordlessly if she would like one as well.

But she simply wringed her hands and shook her head, her body wracked with nerves.

Aemond only chuckled, cup of wine in hand and looked upon her, standing so diligently, where he’d left her.

“Wine might dull your nerves, my lady wife.” He mused, watching the way she looked down in embarrassment at being able to see inside her head so clearly.

Every now and then, she would peek over at the well made bed, like it was an inevitability, and not a place where she would share her most intimate and passionate moments with her new husband.

There was a dark red blanket held taught atop the pale sheets.

A warning.

There were never such dark, stark colours atop her bed sheets at home, and she wondered silently why they would choose such a menacing colour to adorn a place where you may lay your head to rest.

A peaceful night’s sleep. A moment’s passion. The birth of a child.

She thought, beds are where we are born, where we sleep, where marriages are made, where women give birth, which is often their last. And where we die. Not necessarily in that order.

Her husband may have thought a bed a peaceful thing.

But to her, many dangerous things may take place in a bed. And she had heard the stories of a dragon’s temper. Of lords, not necessarily of royal standing, taking their wives on their wedding night, whether their wives were willing or not. And this, is what she feared.

“You need not be so afraid.”

He tore her from her thoughts. And she blushed and felt warm all over realising he had caught her staring at the bed, her body betraying how nervous she felt.

When he looked at her, he felt his manhood throb. He wondered if the blood would rush to her cunny the same way it rushed to her cheeks, and how her flesh would cover her delicious curves beneath the softness of her gown.

He felt excited when she opened her mouth, forcing the air into her lungs like it took all her effort.

“May I ask for your assistance with my gown, husband?” She asked sweetly, with her eyes downcast.

Husband.

He felt his cock become impossibly harder.

He poked his cheek with his tongue in amusement, pushing himself off what he was leaning on and made towards her, watching the way she shrunk the closer he got. She turned slowly, showing him her back, where the laces of her dress were tied so tightly, he was surprised she had not asked him sooner.

While he worked on them, loosening the fabric around her middle, his breath hitched when he saw the shift underneath. She moved her hands to her hair, pulling several pins from it where the braids had been twisted together. She visibly shivered under his touch when the laces were undone and he pushed the stiff fabric apart across her back.

Her hair fell to her shoulders, and she used the sharpened tip of the pins to undo the braids into delicate wavy strands, all while unaware how her new husband marvelled at her out of sight.

She walked away from him for a moment to the vanity, never meeting the looking glass with her eyes, but simply placing the pins in a trinket bowl. With the gown loosened around her shoulders, the fabric lifted when she reached up to unclasp the necklace.

“Leave that on.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, questioning. Her cheeks alight with what he was suggesting.

But he didn’t say anything else.

So instead, she cleared her throat quietly, and pulled the heavy dress from her shoulders, folding it lengthways and draping it over an armchair. Her fingers clasped and unclasped, anxious. Aemond merely watched, his doublet feeling tight and hot against his chest. He could make out the silhouette of her form beneath the thin cotton, the candlelight illuminating her, as if her body was the soft and gentle morning sun, peeking over the horizon to set the day alight.

He heard her shuddered breath and allowed himself to think about what it would feel like against his neck while he rutted into her. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer to her, to sink deeper into her hot insides.

“I do hope that…I please you…with my appearance.” She murmured, turning with her body to face him from a distance. She sounded embarrassed, and shy.

Aemond furrowed his brows.

“Why do you say such a thing?” He asked, colder than he had meant to sound. And it’s clear that the tone of it made her shudder more, which he didn’t intend.

“I only meant that…I hope I am pleasing to the eye…and that I shall be obedient and supportive, as a good wife should be.”

He fought the urge to smile, not wanting to embarrass her further. His silence towards her had clearly given her the wrong impression. That he didn’t approve of her, and perhaps she thought that she wasn’t suitable for him because of his reaction.

“Come here.”

She did as he asked, albeit slowly, until she stood right in front of him.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Does my appearance scare you, he thought with curiosity, and panic.

Does my ailment make you uneasy, as it does the other ladies?

She shook her head softly, “No.” She answered quietly, “It’s just… my Septa said…that the night of consummation would be…” she trailed off, speaking too quietly for him to hear.

“It is alright. Speak again, without fear.”

She swallowed as she looked at him, having to crane her neck.

“She said…the night of consummation would be painful…and that it must be endured. As wives are to be submissive and obedient to their husbands.”

She spoke as if she were speaking from a line in a book. And Aemond thought she must have had this idea stamped into her brain from a very young age. It both concerned and irritated him to think that a young child, forming into a young woman, would be forced into being so terrified of such intimacy by a caregiver who ultimately knew little about marriage.

“There will be some pain.” He replied simply, watching the way she flinched at his words, “But I do not wish for you to endure it simply because you have been told to.”

His fingers came to the tresses of hair that hung on her shoulders, threading his fingers through them and revelling in their softness. Her eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted, absorbing his words, and he could see behind them that he was challenging everything she had ever been told.

“If there is pain, you must tell me.”

She inhaled slowly, gathering her nerves, and nodded simply.

“Come. Lay on the bed.”

Though he spoke softer, there was still a coldness to the way he gave his demands. But nonetheless, she did as he said, and stared up to the canopy of the bed, feeling her heart going so fast she was sure it would burst from her chest.

All she heard was the rustling of leather, the unlooping of his belt, and the clinking of his silver clasps.

She felt the mattress dip at the end of the bed and saw her new husband, without his doublet, but with his breeches only untied halfway, so she could not see a thing. But even so, the sight of a man naked on his torso had her heart still in her chest, and warmth crawl up to her cheeks. Aemond chuckled slightly, not wishing to embarrass her.

“Have you seen a man bare before, little one?” He asked, laying down beside her. She tried with the utmost effort to not stare at him, fearing that in some way she would anger him. His chest was well-muscled and pale, shimmering in the low light of the chambers and littered with many tiny scars that had silvered with time. His hair ran like milk over his shoulders, so silky it seemed to stick to his smooth skin.

She shook her head, and mouthed ‘no’. His manhood throbbed in his breeches at the thought that she had not even seen a man beneath his clothes before, and that he would be the first.

“It is alright, there is no need to be embarrassed.” He gave her a soft smile, trying his best to appear comforting.

But it could not be ignored that they were strangers, and it was his fault that he had not gone to see her before marriage and get to know her better. And on top of that, she was afraid, not of him, but that he might hurt her and that it would define her expectations for the rest of the marriage.

She flinched noticeably in shock, not out of fear, but at not having been touched so intimately, when his palm ran softly up her leg, taking her shift with it.

“Relax.”

She tried to do as he said.

She was so jumpy and nervous, Aemond wondered for a brief, funny moment, if she had even spoken to a man before today.

So he asked a question which he thought was almost silly to ask.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

His question was answered immediately when she flushed and her face went all warm, and suddenly she was unable to meet his gaze. She shook her head softly. And instead of feeling bad for her, a devilish grin split across his face, all the blood going south.

She was so pious, and so devoted to the Seven, that she had saved any part of her inner desires for her husband to be.

He would be the first to give her pleasure of any kind.

To touch her intimately.

To make her feel as beautiful as he thought she was.

“It is alright. I shall show you.” He added softly, his voice like the purr of a cat.

She dared to look back at him as his hand trailed higher, dipping beneath the hem of her shift to touch her smooth skin beneath, “How will it feel?...”

“It may feel strange at first,” He answered honestly, “But after that, it should be pleasurable.”

She seemed to accept his answer, but her legs were pressed together almost instinctively, like her body was telling her it needed to appear smaller. His sharp nose pressed into her hair, inhaling her pleasant, female scent. His breath against the shell of her ear, hot puffs of air landing against her neck, where he began to place one, and then two open-mouthed kisses.

His eye wandered over her from this angle. Looking down her body, he could see the shadow of what lay beneath her shift in between her breasts as they moved with her breathing, which was slow and calculated. He could see how her hands held the bedsheets below her in her palm, not tightly, but prepared to pull on them if she needed.

She shivered with a shuddered breath when he kissed her, trailing his lips lower to her collarbone, past her string of delicate pearls, and he could see that beneath the cotton, her nipples had reacted to the chill of the room, but he liked to imagine that it was because of the way he was touching her so lovingly.

His hand completely slipped past where her hip met her leg, not touching her womanhood just yet, but close enough to feel its warmth. He felt the gooseflesh on her tummy as he trailed upwards, the shift bunched against his arm when his palm slid over her breast. She gasped softly as he squeezed tenderly, testing the weight of it in his palm and kneading it, and when he looked up to her briefly, she had closed her eyes.

He would tell her to open them later, after he did what he planned.

Her hips moved towards the mattress when his deft fingers dipped between her legs, the tips parting her folds to her entrance first, where Aemond began to feel the slick, as little as there was, gathered around it.

She was beginning to feel aroused even if she didn't know it.

She whimpered, pressing her lips together when she felt his fingers in such a strange, forbidden place. Her eyebrows furrowed in discomfort.

"Shh…" He cooed, the air brushing against her cheek, "Relax, dear wife."

She swallowed thick, and relaxed her thighs so that they weren't pushed together as much. The title he'd given her making her head feel as if it were full of air and nothing else.

A part of her felt bad. For she was supposed to be an obedient, pliant little wife, and he was taking care of her so diligently and she was still afraid.

"I apologise-"

"Do not apologise." He replied quickly, and her eyes opened, glistening with a new expression of understanding, "Only feel."

Her breath quickened.

Feel?

"Feel how I touch you here -"

He drew his fingers from her entrance to her pearl, drawing little soft circles using her arousal for ease. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes glued to him, a near-indistinguishable gasp falling from her lips. She began to feel a sort of ache, deep in her stomach that felt strange. And her hips began to move in micro-movements.

"This is where you feel the most pleasure." He whispered, his fingers moving sometimes directly and then indirectly over her pearl. At others, the anticipation of them being close to it had her hips searching for the touch.

"How does it feel?" He asked.

She struggled to think of a word, having never felt this dull and yet pleasurable rush to her core.

"Strange…pleasantly so."

He continued to move slowly, not making a direct effort to make her peak like this, just allowing her to feel what the touch of a man, the touch of her husband, could feel like.

"I will prepare you like this, so that there will be as little pain as possible."

Maintaining eye contact while he said things like that, while he did things to her like this, felt so intimate and so painfully domestic. As if nobody had bothered to care for her so much in her life. Her eyes curiously flitted between his seeing one and his eyepatch, not in fear, but wondering what he might be hiding beneath it.

It would not be removed this night. Or perhaps many to come.

Aemond's fingers moved over her womanhood with ease, more slick began to pool there and lubricate her puffy folds, swollen with arousal. She was wet, but he thought not prepared enough for his cock just yet.

He shifted his body down, his cheek grazing over her still clothed form, as if he was teasing himself. He could easily have asked her to be naked for him. But there was still trust to be gained.

Her eyes were questioning where he might be going. And she truly had no idea.

Using his knee, he settled between her legs, seeing the gooseflesh still there. His hands rucked up her shift, just pausing at the point where it would reveal her womanhood, all slick and ready for him. Her cheeks bloomed as she looked down at him, but didn't have the courage to question.

"Keep your eyes on me." He whispered lowly, his fingers pushing the fabric up so that he could see her cunt, so close to his face. And he was hit right then with the invigorating scent of her, like the sweetest perfume. He felt ashamed that even the scent of her aroused little cunny made his cock weep with arousal.

She looked more embarrassed than anything to have her new husband's face so close to her intimate area she had been taught to keep hidden. And it was hard for her to keep her legs apart. But she couldn't close them for fear of clamping on his head, and his hands were tenderly keeping them spread, his fingers only slightly indented in her supple flesh.

He looked down upon her, his thumb grazing her pearl again and watching with delight as her hips moved again, accompanied with a breath. It was simply too tempting, the idea of tasting her and the sweet nectar that leaked from within.

Holding her thighs, he leaned forward and flattened his tongue against her womanhood, and something primal was awoken inside when he finally tasted his new, little wife. He moved around her folds, and whenever he had to take a breath he placed an open-mouth kiss to it. He spared a glance up at her, and he hadn’t even heard her hurried breathing or tiny whispers of moans, so engrossed in tasting her for the first time.

Her cheeks were alight, her eyes torn between settling on his gaze and what he was doing to her. He had already told her to keep her eyes on him, and Aemond felt pleased that despite how embarrassed she was, she was obeying him.

Aemond redoubled his efforts, using his tongue to part her folds and nuzzling deeper against her, his nose rubbing gently against her pearl and using his wet muscle to dip against her entrance. It’s here that she gave some semblance of a proper moan, slipping shakily out of her throat, her hands tightening on the bed sheets.

He all but moaned against her cunt, delving into the deepest parts of her and dragging his tongue against the top of her velvety walls, trying to find out why she was the way she was. What made her feel the best. How he could make more of those pretty sounds tumble past her lips. He thought he could have spent all his life between her thighs, lapping at her arousal, and he would die a happy man.

In his grip, her thighs began to shake, and her brows furrowed like she didn’t understand what this feeling coursing through her veins was, this fire ablaze in her blood. Pride flooded his head, and he dragged his tongue from the inside of her to her pearl, where he drew circles over it. She jolted in his hold, as if he’d scared her, but he knew that it was because of the overwhelming feeling that was beginning to crest over her, and the uncertainty of it.

With his attention and efforts on her bud alone and she was suitably wet, he looked up at her when he touched her entrance with the pad of his finger. He heard her gasp when he slowly sank one digit inside her, he himself struggling to keep his composure once he realised just how tight she was around his finger alone. And he could barely think straight thinking about how she would feel wrapped around his cock.

He could forgive for the time being that her eyes were closed and brows furrowed, for the new sensation must have been strange for her. Something akin to a strangled whine rumbled from her chest when he was sank all the way inside, curling upwards. And when he brushed against that spot at the top of her walls, gently caressing the slick ridges, her back arched slightly off the mattress, and he smiled against her womanhood.

It appears his little wife was becoming emboldened in her movements by what he was doing to her.

As he continued to please his wife in two separate ways, almost instinctively, her hand came to his bare shoulder. To pull him close? To push him away? She wasn’t entirely sure herself.

He could tell she was on the precipice of something she was unable to comprehend, and was embarrassed to show herself in such an open way.

 “What is it, sweet wife?” he asked, drawing his lips from her, now covered entirely in her arousal when he licked at it.

Through her loud pants, she regained her breath as he continued to tease that deep spot inside of her, “What is…” She breathed, her grip closing around his shoulders. Her nails dug into his flesh, not meaning to, which made him smirk.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He cooed, pulling out slightly to slide a second finger inside, using the girth of his fingers to stretch her cunt around him, “I am just making sure you are ready for me.”

He began to pump his fingers inside her like he would fuck her, curling them up to focus his attention and pressure against the sweet spot at the end of her. She was so tight around him, already trying to suck him further inside and clenching hard. He felt his skin stretch around her grip on his shoulder, like she didn’t realise how hard she was holding him.

“ - Aemond - I’m - ”

Aemond.

The way she called him by his name.

There was no shame now in how hard it made him, and he felt as if he would spill right in his breeches and not inside her if she was going to say things like that.

A breathy whine made its way from her mouth, her eyes tightly shut as her face twisted in pleasure, feeling all the pressure leak into her limbs in bliss while Aemond kept pleasuring her, loving how her body was uncontrollably trembling with the force of her peak. He could feel the rush of slick coat his fingers and hand, so he slowed down the pace of his movements, allowing his sweet wife to savour the feeling she’d experienced here for the first time.

“That was your peak, little one.”

Her eyes opened to focus on him, feeling her body erupt in shivers as he pulled his digits from her and smeared her wetness over her thighs, thinking that as erotic and lewd the action was, that is excited her at the place where her husband had just been caressing with his fingers and tongue.

Her pupils were dilated only a bit larger than before, and Aemond felt pride in being the first to make her feel such things, awakening a part of her that had remained dormant for a long time. And while she had been emboldened by what he’d done to please her, her cheeks still bloomed with a faint embarrassment that he found endearing.

His hands traced her sides, taking her shift with it, and her breath hitched at the idea she would be entirely bare before her new husband, who had just given her the first experience of female pleasure. But alongside the trepidation, there was excitement.

Once he pulled her shift over her head and raked his gaze over every inch of her body.

It was a fucking crime that she’d been hiding herself under that gown all evening, he thought.

He thought she was perfection, with her soft and supple curves, and he hadn’t even realised his calloused hands had been kneading her breast until she let out a breathy sound. But she didn’t protest. She just appeared somewhat uncomfortable, as this was the first time she had shown herself so openly to the opposite sex.

“You are beautiful.”

She seemed to calm at least when he said that, relieved her husband found her attractive.

He saw her eyes flit from his one seeing eye to the eyepatch covered one, curious. But she simply swallowed thickly and didn’t say or ask anything. And he too was relieved that she hadn’t asked him to remove it.

He was not sure if he would be ready for that, for some time.

She still wore the little pearls around her neck, and now with her entirely naked with the exception of that, it felt erotic and arousing.

They were the same.

She wore the necklace, he wore the eyepatch, keeping a tiny piece of themself while they joined in matrimonial bliss.

He unlaced the rest of his breeches, watching her breasts move up and down as she breathed in anticipation of what was going to happen and the irreversible fact that she would never be the same afterwards.

“Remember what I said?” he asked, pulling his breeches over his hips. His achingly hard cock sprang free, standing proud and aroused against his stomach.

She took a moment to reply, trying not to stare too much at his member as he stroked himself slowly, the ruddy tip, weeping with arousal, poked out of his fist with every languid movement. She’d never seen one before. But all she knew was that she wondered how on earth it would fit inside her, he looked so thick and long, slightly curved to one side. Was there empty space inside of her she didn’t know about where he would place himself?

Her eyes met his, all glazed over, and she nodded.

“If there is pain, I must tell you.” She repeated what he’d said earlier. Her skin bloomed, for that moment was here right before them.

She tried to relax her body, numb from the force of her very first peak, as the mattress dipped either side of her where he’d leaned on his forearms, his knee brushing the inside of her legs as he nudged them apart so he could place himself there.

“Yes, you must.” He added tenderly, “It is not my intention to hurt you.”

The affection in his words made her stomach roll.

“You are my wife.”

She confirmed with delight that she was. And she nodded, not knowing what to say in response to his statement, but Aemond could see the subtle glimmer in her eyes.

He saw her glance at his manhood with something akin to a mix of fear and curiosity, and she took a sharp breath in as Aemond leaned forward, not pressing his weight on her, and placed several open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, neck and collarbone, teasing her with his teeth, while his cock kissed her puffy folds.

She felt his breath at her skin, her grip loosening on the sheets as he made her feel a little more relaxed.

When he leant forward, parting her folds easily with the aid of her slick, the first thought she had was that it felt strange, but nothing else in particular. It was only when his cockhead had disappeard inside her and he speared her upon his length that she began to tense up, her stomach tightening somewhat unpleasantly. Her hand came automatically to his chest, to try and push him away and make him stop.

He raised his head from her neck, his eye hooded down in concern. He felt her soft, almost-hummingbird-like touch on his chest and felt something fluttering inside of him at the tenderness of it. She was in some pain, not dramatically so, and yet her touch was so gentle.

Nothing was said, and only the utmost patience was offered. And it was difficult to do so for Aemond, with the way her core was holding him so tightly, to stay still and not move an inch. But for the sake of making her feel safe, he did it.

After a moment, she made an effort to relax her muscles for him. Her hand trailed over his muscled chest, as if taking this small window of opportunity to do so. Her fingers ran over the scars he’d gained on his lithe form, wanting to commit every ridge, every little piece of him to her memory as if it was the last time she’d ever see him.

Her eyes shifted to him once he sheathed himself inside her all the way, bottoming out with a low groan. He felt her walls fluttering around him, stretching her to accommodate this size, having not felt anything like this before. Her lips parted to let a soft pained sound past her lips, but that was all, and she felt the worst was behind her.

It felt only slightly uncomfortable, but she was willing to do it for this marriage. To please him.

It was intimate, looking right at her while he was deep inside her, and she gave the faintest of nods, telling him without words that she was alright. She thought she'd never felt more full in her life, nor more connected to someone as she was right at this moment.

It hurt at first, yes, but he had prepared her, waited for her and cherished her like she was precious. And the pain, the sting of losing her maidenhead, was a small price to pay for how full her heart felt, by giving a piece of her to him.

Closing his eye, as if to concentrate, Aemond moved almost entirely out of her to push back in as she gasped below him, the same feeling the second time had a spark licking at her insides that didn’t stop as he began his slow and careful pace. He wanted to tear his gaze off her, desperately, but couldn’t.

It was just as he imagined. With every soft thrust inside her, the pearls at her neck danced, and her cheeks were flushed, eyes shimmering. It wasn’t as animalistically lustful as he envisioned. Before he imagined an innocent thing like her, bending to his will, corrupting her in any way he saw fit.

But now more than anything as he listened to the gentle moans come out of her, he wanted to protect her, to nurture and watch her flourish. The pearls clicked against each other at her neck, her breasts moved, nipples pebbled with arousal, and she’d raised her legs only slightly to wrap around his waist, blinking slowly up at him.

The whore Aegon had gotten him to fuck on his thirteenth nameday was overzealous, large-breasted and older, perhaps more experienced. She had bounced on top of him, her loud moans bouncing off every surface in the room, her hands planted on his chest as she moved her hips up and down on him with loud slaps. He remembered feeling horrified that this is what intimacy was. That this is what men would desire so relentlessly.

It didn’t feel good. And he remembered feeling sick.

But here, with her, looking so lovingly up at him. No hysterical moaning, no pathetic whines to boost his male ego. Just unapologetically everything she was feeling, she was giving to him.

It felt like a gift. To experience real intimacy. And with the person he was due to spend the remainder of his days with.

As if realising he was daydreaming, his hips still moving against her with wet slaps of skin, her hand cupped his face, on the unmarred side, and her thumb stroked over his cheekbone. She touched him so softly he could have wept.

She had seen some kind of thoughtfulness on his face, and in the throes of consummation, was supporting him.

“Aemond.”

When she said his name with such sincerity and care, he blinked slowly and reached his hand up to hers, encircling his fingers around her small wrist, and turned his face into her palm, to kiss the inside tenderly. One kiss to her palm, and one to her wrist. And it felt more intimate than kissing on the lips, which he only now realised with shame, that he’d not done for her yet.

“I am alright.”

He looked at her when she said that. It was as if she could see all of his inner thoughts, and had been able to all evening.

She saw that he had been holding back.

He had been afraid of frightening her, and yet she was allowing him what he wanted.

Her breath caught in her chest with a kind of excitement as his fingers wrapped around her wrist and forced it down to the bed beside her head, his other hand joining her other to keep her pinned tightly under him to the mattress. Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him, watching his expression change to something more possessive.

“Put your legs around me.”

She did as he asked and raised her legs around his waist, causing his length to brush that same spot inside her that he’d pleasured just moments before. And with an iron grip on her wrists and easier access to her, he dipped his head into her neck, her scent swirling around him and fucked her as he had wanted to the entire evening.

Skin slapped against one another with the moisture of her slick on his pelvis, his stones hitting against her repeatedly with every rough thrust into her wet cunt.

"Does my innocent little wife like to be properly fucked, hm?" He grunts, watching how she blushes and turns her head away out of embarrassment.

"I think you will continue to surprise me, little pearl."

She felt her insides clench at the name he gave her.

Little pearl.

Aemond smirked, increasing the intensity of his driving into her, constantly spearing her open onto his cock, and watching at the way he disappeared into her.

"I can feel you tightening around my cock. Did you like that? Little pearl?"

Her breath was sucked from her with each devastating thrust, and that same pressure was beginning to build in her belly, from when he'd pleasured her before.

"Answer me.”

"Yes - yes, husband - " She replied, breathlessly and gulping for air, throwing her head back against the bed sheets.

He smirked, leaning back and watching how his cock was being covered in her slick everytime he pulled out of her.

He pulled her hips onto his lap, and the angle had his cockhead bullying her tender and sensitive place deep inside of her. Her eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, feeling utterly at his mercy.

Feeling proud of the reactions he was getting, his hand slipped from her hip to her bud. Her pearl. A grin splitting across his face at the lewd thoughts he was having. He circled her sensitive bud tenderly, applying just enough pressure that she clenched around him again.

If she wasn't careful, he would cum right there and then.

"Does that feel good, little one?" He teased her in a low tone, not ceasing his endless pace, pushing himself as far inside her as he could.

"Do you like it when I touch you here?"

She couldn't deny she liked it. The way her back arched, being pleasures in two ways. It was nearly overwhelming. And it took her voice from her.

"Perhaps we should name you Pearl of the Realm." He smirked, increasing both his pace and pressure, "Prim, proper…a good little obedient wife to her lord and husband."

He leaned over, changing the angle yet again.

"But in here, with me, it is this pearl I shall be paying special attention to, dear wife."

His words made her tighten around him, coupled with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her. She felt her entire body get hot, the pressure in her belly set to explode at any moment.

His delicate and careful ministrations to her bundle of nerves was almost too much, and her hips began to move forward towards his in rhythm with his cock stretching her open, meeting him halfway.

She didn't imagine such lewd words would have an effect on her.

"Husband - "

"I think I will keep you like this. All night if I have to. Paying special attention to this precious pearl you have been neglecting for so long." He mused, his words were strained, as if set to explode himself.

"I will give you my seed. Over and over. Until I am done with you." He breathed through heavy pants, his eye slipping shut, "I will watch you swell with my child. Would you like that?"

She could only whimper in response, fisting the bed sheets as she had nothing else to hold onto, her mouth dropping open as her climax began to crest.

"I would like that. To see these perfect tits all round and full."

The idea of bearing his children was only a fantasy that appeared right at that moment.

"Gods - you are so tight - such a perfect little cunt - fuck - "

She fell apart around him, her entire body filled with such eternal feeling bliss that she felt as if she were floating, her husband's deft fingers still pleasuring her bud.

Her limbs felt numb, her blood like fire under her skin and her lips dropped apart so that a shattered moan could escape her, the only proof that her peak was decimating every nerve in her body with blinding, white hot pleasure.

She tightened impossibly around him, and the pistoning of his cock into her sex was only stilled when he slammed inside her one last time. His length throbbed within her, his spend warming her core at the end and filling her, completing this sacred, intimate ceremony.

They both gulped down air desperately and when Aemond had caught a moment to himself, he spared a look down at his sweet wife, her delicate skin covered in a soft sheen of sweat, eyes shut, breasts shifting erratically with her breathing.

She must have felt his gaze on her, because she turned her head to look up at him. In her once innocent and naive gaze he once saw fear and trepidation. And now her pupils were blown wide and glimmered with lust and a kind of pride that she'd pleased him, and they'd done this together.

Aemond still had a grip on her hips, noticing the red marks where his fingers had been. Her body was littered with them, where he'd been too tempted to nibble at her, to make sure she bore the marks of his passion for her.

He looked down where they were joined, pulling out of her and watching with a lustful curiosity at his spend that leaked from her entrance. It was instinctual, the way two fingers scooped up what had come out, and he gently plunged it back into her as far as he would go.

Overstimulated and tired, she winced, bucking her hips slightly.

Aemond only smiled down at her.

"I can hardly wait to make you a mother, little one."

She laughed a little, exhausted, "You speak of children. We have only lay together once."

Aemond took her reply and smirked, pulling her thighs close to him again.

"In that case - might we try again? I dare say I have already forgotten the first time."

His little pearl smiled tenderly up at him. A safe smile. One of utter adoration. It was like he was being seen, truly seen, for the first time in his life. She had been so good to him in the short time he'd known her, and cared enough to let him see her as well.

He felt fulfilled in a way he never had before. Something exciting ran through his blood, like how he felt whenever he trained. As if a new challenge were upon him.

Challenging the notion that had been placed upon him his entire life, that marriage was about ownership. As a wife should belong entirely to her husband.

And while he felt that sheer possessiveness before he really knew her. Knew her properly.

Now, he questioned if marriage was more about respect than anything else.

The fabric covering his eye now felt so heavy. And one day, he thought, he hoped to be able to show himself so openly to her, as she had done for him.

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

And he would pay his little pearl all the attention she so deserved.

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998 

[gloomwitchwrites]

i’ve only recently found ur acc and i’ve fallen in love! ur def becoming one of my inspo’s in writing my own fics!:D

now, what about t141 with an alt s/o who’s always dying their hair or piercing themselves? maybe it’s the first time they find reader doing said shenanigans, what would their reactions be? 🤔 i think soap would have the best one lol, but i’d love to hear what your thoughts about it! <3

Well, hello! Welcome! Now, I had multiple people request this very thing. I am answering one of those asks and the others will simply fall under this one (since they are all very similar). I did go with some variety here since being "alt" can mean a lot different things. I do have one with hair dying, one about showing off their taxidermy/skull collection, a metal concert, and forcing (Gaz) to have a makeover. I had lots of fun. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: established relationship, humor, fluff, swearing, hair dying, taxidermy, concerts, makeovers

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Jesus bloody Christ. What happened?” John stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes wide as he surveys the scene. “Did you murder someone?”

You stand hunched over like a gremlin in the shower, holding the handheld showerhead. The dye in your hair is circling the drain, but that’s not the only place is stains. The shower is going to need a good scrub as is the bathroom sink.

“I’m changing my hair?”

John blinks. “You told me you were going to a salon.”

“This is cheaper.”

His mouth opens and then promptly closes. You see the gears turning. John is reigning in the panic.

“It’ll come out,” you insist.

“Everything is red,” murmurs John.

“Only temporarily,” you insist.

“Are you talking about your hair or our bathroom countertops?”

“Are you mad?”

“No,” he says firmly, hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to shut the door and pretend that our bathroom doesn’t look like a crime scene.”

“I love you!” you call out as he starts shutting the door.

“I love you, too,” he sighs heavily. The door is nearly shut before it suddenly opens again. “Do I need to grab bleach from the store?”

“That would be great.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Stop moving,” you mutter.

“You’re gonna poke me in the fucking eye, love.”

“It’s just eyeliner. Calm down.”

“You’ve poked me already.” Kyle points at his eye. The white is slightly red with irritation.

Kyle’s gaze narrows, but you only tut, grasping the bottom half of his face with your hand. Squeezing his cheeks a bit, you tilt his face from side-to-side, observing your work. About half of his face is done. You’ve even added face piercings to his lips and nose.

The clothes were the easy part. Kyle was more than willing to put on what you picked out for him. It’s completely different from his tracksuits and jeans. He looks like he walked right out of the punk scene.

“You promised I could do your makeup.” You put a little whine in it, pouting your lip.

Kyle lightly grasps your wrist and tugs, removing your hand from his face. “I did,” he agrees. “But all this? Really?”

You’ve set out nearly every product you have, nearly covering the entirety of the bathroom counter.

“We have to match,” you insist.

Kyle’s mouth twitches slightly but he settles. “Fine. But you better make me the best-looking bloke in the joint.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is June.” You present the racoon skull to Johnny.

His eyes widen slightly. “Hello, June,” he greets.

You wait for the eventual frown, for the brief flicker of disgust, but it doesn’t come. Johnny isn’t drawing back or judging you at all. His attention is rapt—focused.

You gently return the racoon skull back to the shelf and point to a collection of preserved butterflies. “These were a gift from a friend.”

“They’re beautiful,” murmurs Johnny. “Do they have names?” He leans in, observing the display of colorful wings.

“No, but they do!” You enthusiastically gesture toward the rest of your collection. There are skulls and bones from all sorts of animals, preserved beetles, tentacles in jars, and even petrified fish bones.

Men say they want quirky, but when they get quirky, they run. Johnny though is entirely fascinated.

“Can I touch this?” he asks with an excitement that surprises you, pointing toward a beaver skull.

“Yes. It’s delicate though. I’m always fixing the jaw.”

Johnny lightly lifts the skull and brings it close to his face, slowly rotating it.

No. Johnny isn’t disgusted. He isn’t shaming you for your special interest. If anything, he’s fascinated.

You’re keeping him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The shredding of the guitar reverberates in your chest. It stirs your blood, sending waves of adrenaline through your limbs until even your fingers and toes twitch with anticipation.

The breakdown is coming, and with it will come a sea of bodies. They’ll crash against each other like a massive wave before descending into chaos, nothing but flailing limbs and gnashing teeth.

Already, the energy is pulsing, becoming a frenzy that will eventually burst.

You’ve never been in the middle of the pit before. You usually stay off to the sides or well out of the way, not wanting to receive an injury.

But now you have protection. Now, you have a bodyguard.

Simon stands right behind as your support and your shadow. This isn’t his scene, not that he doesn’t enjoy a metal show, but he could care less about throwing himself around in a pit. When you expressed the desire to do so, Simon agreed, but only if he joined you.

Sure, it might scare some people off, or deter others from getting too close, but Simon is supportive anyway.

He’s just a bit vicious. A bit protective.

The shredding rises. It’s time.

A pause.

Then everything crashes.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[steddieas-shegoes]

pop goes metal

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'alternate universe'

rated t | 964 words | cw: language | tags: famous corroded coffin, pop star steve harrington, flirting, getting together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

"No fuckin' way are we working with him," Eddie argues with their manager. "You're always so worried about our image and then you go and have us doing a song with a fuckin' pop artist?"

The manager, Anthony, rolls his eyes. "It'll broaden your fanbase. You know who spends money on shit? Women. You know who likes Steve Harrington? Women."

"Does he even write his own shit?" Gareth asks.

"Does it matter?" Eddie turned to him with a glare. "Even if he writes it, it's not our style."

"Maybe we could at least hear what he's trying to work with us on?" Jeff, always the calming presence, asked towards Anthony.

"He sent over a sample before we sign any agreements."

Eddie sat down in the chair furthest from everyone else, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, this isn't an official recording. Just what he did on his phone on his tour bus with his acoustic guitar. He arranged the bass already for Frankie, too, but said he's open to whatever Gareth feels is right for the drums." Anthony pressed play on his phone and the room was filled with strumming and a surprisingly raspy voice singing what was clearly a chorus.

Eddie could pretend he hated it, and maybe the guys would agree with him and they'd never have to speak of this again.

He couldn't hide his reaction fast enough, though.

His jaw dropped as he listened to the lyrics, surprised to find that they weren't just about going to a club and dancing or being in love.

Steve's voice broke at the end before there was shuffling and the recording stopped.

Eddie felt everyone's eyes on him. He closed his mouth and looked down at the floor, tapping his fingers against his arm.

"It's not bad," he finally said. "Not sure why he needs us, though."

"Apparently, his brother is a huge fan of you and suggested he try to work with you."

"I think we should do it." Jeff said, a note of finality in his tone that Eddie knew he wouldn't try arguing with.

"Yeah, can't hurt." Frankie shrugged.

"If he's giving me creative freedom on the drums, how can I say no?" Gareth smirked.

"Guess we're working with the pop diva, then."

****

Steve Harrington was nothing like what they expected.

He showed up to their studio in sweats and glasses, holding a tablet and a bottle of Tylenol. They started to introduce themselves as he found a spot on the couch.

"I'm really glad you guys were willing to work with me," he said after he shook everyone's hand.

Eddie stared.

"My uh, my brother, Dustin, he's kinda why I wrote this song and I know it means a lot that you agreed to be on it," Steve continued. "So, thanks. Hopefully it doesn't ruin your vibes or anything."

Eddie felt every wall he built crumbling with every word Steve spoke. God dammit, this man just had to be sincere and hot and talented, didn't he?

"Nah, we're gonna sound great together." Eddie smiled at Steve's wide-eyed look. "You wanna show us the whole song?"

Steve nodded, pulling something up on his phone. Another recording, this one more professional and included an electric guitar.

"Robin was the stand in for the electric while I did bass."

"So you can play bass?" Frankie asked, leaning in.

"Yeah, but my preferred instrument is piano. I just don't do a lot of slow songs. Guitar is what gets the women interested, or so they tell me," Steve smiled awkwardly. "But feel free to change some things up. I'm totally open to suggestions."

But really, it was damn near perfect as it was. Frankie made one tweak during the bridge, but Steve ended up loving it more than the original and told him so with a grin.

"You're a fuckin' genius!" He exclaimed.

Gareth started messing around on the drums while Steve and Eddie worked on the first couple of lines.

"Something still doesn't feel right," Steve mentioned.

"Maybe we change the rhyming pattern?" Eddie suggested. "You've got ABAB. Might work better to do AABB. Some of these words can be moved around to make that work."

Steve stared at the notes app for a moment, then looked back up at Eddie, beaming smile making his eyes squint.

"I could kiss you!" He shouted. As soon as he realized what he said, he blushed, looking back down at the phone. "I mean, thanks. That's a great suggestion."

Eddie searched Steve's face, coming to the conclusion that there was probably a good reason why Steve didn't care about what women liked when it came to his music.

"I have a pretty strict rule about kissing people I work with," Eddie said slowly, quietly so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah, no, that makes sense. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

"But we won't be working with each other for long, right?" Eddie continued, letting his hand rest on Steve's thigh. God, he was muscular.

"Um. No I guess not."

"Rain check, then. Until we've finished our professional relationship." Eddie couldn't believe he was suggesting this. Showing interest in a pop star. What's next? Dating one? Marrying one?

"Are you saying you wanna kiss me, Munson?" Steve suddenly sounded more confident.

"I'm saying we've got work to do before I can get my hands on you." Eddie tapped his thigh before pulling away. "So let's get to it."

"Dude! I got it!" Gareth yelled, interrupting their moment.

"Be right there!" Steve yelled back, not looking away from Eddie. "Might break a record for fastest recording time ever just so I can kiss you," Steve added quietly to Eddie before standing and walking over to Gareth.

"Well, fuck." Eddie sighed, smiling to himself.

[gyuwoncheol]

Room Service

↳ A part 2 to 15 Minutes

Pair: Scoups x f!reader

Genre: Smut, Concert!Cheol, husband!Cheol, dom!Cheol, 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: The only thing hornier than pre-concert Cheol is post-concert Cheol. Lucky for you, you’re the only one in the world with an all-access VIP ticket to this immersive experience.

Warnings: Porn with plot, Concert!Cheol, dom!Cheol, daddy kink, breeding kink, big dick!Cheol, pussy drunk!Cheol, cock hungry!reader, so. many. orgasms., quickie sex, unprotected sex (stay safe, children), oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), lots of making out, creampieS, slightly public sex, dick riding, manhandling, pussy slapping (like once), use of color system, overstimulation, body worship, breast/nipple play, hair pulling, spitting, crying during and after sex (but it’s not a kink), dirty talk, use of pet names (my love, baby, princess, baby girl, angel), fluff at the end. Please let me know if i missed something, i can’t remember all the filth. Not thoroughly proofread.

WC: 4.1k

Author's Note: Did I get carried away? Hell yes. is this the filthiest thing I’ve ever written? Could be. Except the other wip I have also for Seungcheol might just beat it. Thank you so much again for the love on 15 Minutes. I hope this 2nd part lives up to it.

Author's 2nd Note: For new readers, you don’t have to read 15 Minutes as this can stand on its own, but it would make more sense if you did read it.

“My good girl.” 

Seungcheol chuckled as he plunged deep into your cunt, his cock pushing through your mixed cum that you so diligently kept in as instructed, “so good at following instructions huh?” 

“Fuck baby, you’re so messy” Cheol cursed, mouth watering at the sight of your stored cum slowly dripping out of your hole as he dragged out his entire length until only the tip was in. You groaned when you felt globs of it trickle down your thigh, your husband’s large hand slowly pushing you down against the back of the couch. You felt him engulf you, his chest against your back, hot breath on your ears, “cat got your tongue, babe?” The man teased just as he thrusted his length back into you, causing more cum to overflow from your hole.

It had only been roughly 30 minutes since the concert finally ended, the boys doing all the post show rituals from changing clothes to shooting backstage content, and as soon as that was over, Seungcheol had all but dragged you to another dressing room, not even saying anything as he unzipped your jeans and dragged your very soiled panties down. Not that you were surprised though, post-concert was always when Cheol was the horniest, with all that adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

You could feel the prominent vein on his cock drag through your walls deliciously as he alternated between slow and fast thrusts, an arm snaked around your torso while hot phrases flew from his mouth.

“Fuck, pussy so tight.” 

“All mine.” 

“I’ll give you all my babies.” 

“Gon’ pump you full.” 

“My good girl so desperate for cum.” 

“Cheol!” You screeched in between moans when you felt him hit that sensitive spot particularly rough.

“Did you watch me tonight, baby? Why weren’t you in the stands?” He asked suddenly, as if he wasn’t still railing you from behind.

“C-couldn’t g-go” you squeaked, willing yourself to form words when all you really wanted to do was whimper in pleasure, “had to… be— behave… fuck!” 

“Behave?” Cheol clarified even though he sensed where this was going. In all the times they rushed backstage in between sets, not once had you moved from your spot, sitting cross legged on top of the large black trunk cases situated right in front of the screen which broadcasted the events on stage.  “Words, baby” he said sweetly yet firmly when he saw you nod eagerly.

“Yes! Behave. Had t-to… k-keep.. shiiiiit,” you groaned, your elbows harshly rubbing on the leather material of the couch after another rough entry of Cheol’s cock, “keep da-daddy’s… cum… in me.” You finished off your defense and you could already see your husband’s smirk without even really looking at him.

“Aren’t. You. Such. An. Angel.” Seungcheol punctuated each word with a deep harsh thrust.

“And all yours.” You punctuated as you looked back at him, both your eyes glazing in lust. The loud sound of skin slapping skin and your pussy squelching at every thrust was unmistakable, the room smelled of sex. The group’s leader was sweating even more than he did when he got off stage, his warmth radiating onto your body as he kept you impossibly close to him, jackhammering his cock in your cunt. 

“Shit shit shit shit..” you cried out loud when his other hand suddenly rubbed fast circles on your clit.

“FUCK!” Seungcheol growled at your release, your pussy clamping down on him so tightly that it triggered his own. He stilled within you in an instant, bodies folded in half against the leather couch, your husband continuously muttering incoherent words as the feeling of your fluttering walls drove him to another level of cloud 9. 

“Yah! You two better eat already if you’re really planning to go all night” Seungkwan scolded in his best mom voice when the both of you entered the buffet area hand in hand.

You hid your face on Cheol’s shoulders, suddenly very aware of all 12 boys looking your way. They were very much aware of what you two had been doing and why you were doing it. In spite of the never ending teasing and playful disgusted looks they give their leader, the members had all told you they were excited for Cheol to become a dad mostly because it meant he’d get off their asses. 

“We’re actually going ahead. We’ll take a different car.” Your husband announced, a gentle squeeze to your hand when some of the boys howled at the implication of both of you going back to the hotel first.

“Really not wasting any time huh?” Soonyoung smirked despite having his mouth full of noodles 

“What? She’s leaving soon!” Seungcheol whined.

“Y/n still has a week left!!” Mingyu corrected with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, still not enough!” Cheol replied. He gave a curt nod to Jeonghan, calling his name firmly as if to say ‘i leave the kids with you.’

“Hyung, seriously, you both have to eat.” DK was next to remind you both as he knows you’re both still running on empty stomachs.

“We’ll get room service,” your husband called out, inching closer towards the exit doors that would lead you to the vans.

“We hope it's the food kind! And maybe let y/n get some real sleep after!” Joshua’s reminder had you giggling, glad enough to know the boys still cared for you even though all you’ve done was hog all of Seungcheol’s free time.

Surprisingly, you had both managed to stay well behaved in the car ride home. If anything, you two were very sweet, your head resting on Cheol’s shoulders as he held your hand through the ride and absentmindedly played with your fingers. 

Even when you had both showered together in the hotel room, your husband did not try to make any advances, he simply cleaned you both up, even giving you a nice massage on your scalp when you lathered your favorite shampoo. 

Contrary to what his members may think, Seungcheol wasn’t too adamant about fucking you all night. He could see how tired you actually are and Mingyu was right, you did still have a week left with him. He just wants to make sure you are cared for like his queen this whole trip, whether that meant blowing your back or giving you 8 hours of sleep, he didn’t mind. 

“Tired, baby?” He asked as he secured the knot on your fluffy hotel robe.

You lazily smiled at him as you settled in bed, pulling him towards you for good measure. “I’m ok.”

“Hungry? Wanna get some food now?” 

“Want you to kiss me.” 

Seungcheol was taken aback by the boldness of your request, not because it was the first time you asked, but because you both have definitely done more than just kissing these past 72 hours. He smiled sheepishly as he climbed over you, settling on your side as his chapped lips kissed your soft ones. You clutched onto his hand on your neck, sighing happily when you felt him deepen the kiss. 

“Someone’s happy,” a low chuckle from your husband.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “i love your kisses.” Despite the raunchy sex, there was always just something so nice and intimate about kissing your husband. His lips were always so plump against yours and the way he’d hold you securely always made you feel like you meant the world to him. 

“You’re so beautiful, i love you so much,” Seungcheol admired your bare face before sucking on your lower lip.

You moaned out an i love you too but it only got swallowed by the man who couldn’t get enough of you. You climbed on his lap, trapping him in between your legs, taking control of this little makeout session you were having. Inevitably, the more you kissed him, the more your hips moved on its own accord, grinding on Cheol’s robe-covered bottom half. 

You were moving erratically, wanting to chase a high you knew you needed if you were to fit Cheol’s dick again tonight. 

“Daddy, please...” you cried, annoyed that you just couldn’t get to where you wanted to be 

“Please what, baby girl?”

You whined desperately at the dangerously low tone in your ear, “please make me cum.” 

Record time is what you’d call it, the way Seungcheol went from flipping you over to casting your robe open to having his mouth suck on your clit harshly. You couldn’t even process it, all you knew was your throat was straining from how you were screaming his name with how he lapped at your cunt. His tongue licked bold stripes from your hole to your clit before he'd suck the sensitive bud. If there's anything Cheol has perfected, it's his hand-mouth coordination, the way he perfectly syncs his plush lips to suck at your clit while two fingers sink in you and curl to graze that spongy spot inside your walls. It should really have you embarrassed at how quick it could unravel the coil in your stomach. Your orgasm exploding in colorful bursts behind your eyes whilst soaking your husband's face in a mess. 

"I forgot how sweet you fucking taste," he groaned, slurping the juices leaking from your hole. He peeked up at you from where he was, your mouth agape and chest rising and falling while your fingers still gripped on his hair. You were hissing from oversensitivity but you should've known that post-concert Cheol was a starved man. When he deemed he had swallowed all of you, three fingers prodded at your entrance that had you arching your back from the bed only to be pushed down with your husband's free arm. "Stay still, baby. Daddy's not done yet." 

"Fuuuuuuck, " you panted, going delirious from the overstimulation your pussy was feeling. You writhed in vain as Cheol smothered your cunt like a full course meal. When you tried to squirm away, he delivered a slap to your pussy that sent shocks all over your body. "I'm cu- fuck! I'm cumming," you shuddered, thighs closing in on your husband's head. 

Seungcheol chuckled at your state, a proud grin across his face when he finally settled beside you. After pulling back to back orgasms from you in less than 10 minutes, he knew you were oversensitive and just needed to not be touched. "You okay, my love?" 

"Just.." you panted, "Just a minute." 

You rolled over on your stomach when you regained enough strength, and slowly but surely got on your wobbly knees to climb on your husband's thick thighs. Seungcheol wanted to squeeze your bare breasts but seeing as you were still slightly swaying, he decided to hold you securely by the waist. "what're you doing?" He mused while watching you fumble with the knot of his robe. 

His dick twitched at the sight of your lust blown, hooded eyes. "Daddy..." You smiled, god, you were so far gone, "Wanna ride you." 

Seungcheol moaned, hurriedly helping you untie his robe and throwing it to the floor. You salivated at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his stomach, red tip leaking with precum. Anchoring your palms on his chest, you kept your eyes trained on him as you sucked on your tongue before letting some of your saliva drool onto his length, your hand immediately gripping and spreading the fluid along his shaft, thumb grazing at the slit.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, hips bucking into your hand on instinct. A wicked smile crossed your face, delighted with the effect your actions had on him.

Cheol's eyes rolled to the back of his head when you finally let your pussy glide against his cock, coating it even more in your wetness.

"Fuck baby, what's gotten into you?" He hissed as you picked up your pace, grinding his cock against your wet folds, always making sure to let the tip kiss your clit when you move down. "So fucking needy for daddy's cock huh?" 

You moaned when one of his large hand squeezed your right breast and his dick leaked more precum onto his stomach. The sight of you, head falling back and mouth parted, was immaculate. He wished he remembered where his phone was right now, it would've been the perfect photo to take for him to get off on in the future. He committed it to memory as best he could, but even that thought immediately flew away when he finally felt you sink into his dick. 

"Oh my god,” you moaned in unison.

Seungcheol wasn't so sure if he was wincing from your nails digging into his chest or from the vice grip of your cunt on his cock, but either way, both felt like heaven to him. "Baby girl, you just came twice and you're still so fucking tight.”

"C-can take you, daddy. Please... p-promise!" You begged, lowering yourself to take in a few more inches of him. The stretch was familiar yet it still had you squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip. 
Afraid he wouldn't be able to stay still any longer, Cheol took the matter in his own hands, sitting up to bring your chest flush against his, connecting your lips in a heated kiss to distract you from the pain. He still tasted of you and a slight hint of your minty toothpaste. When he felt you relax, his strong hold sank you onto him until he was fully sheathed. You broke from the kiss, head falling back once again at the overwhelming feeling of being so full. 

"Cmon, baby, thought you wanted to ride me?" He sucked on the column of your throat, causing you to swivel your hips. "There you go. You can do it." God, his voice was so sinful it made your insides churn. Another strangled moan left your mouth when his wet tongue made contact with your right nipple, licking and sucking before he kissed between the valley of your breasts, only to nip at your left bud.

"Oh my god, Cheol!" You pulled at his hair, wanting him to leave your sensitive breasts alone. 

He laughed dryly at your attempt but still allowed you that space. He let go of your waist to lean back with his palms against the mattress to have a full view of you. "Cmon baby," He spurred on, "show daddy what you got." 

Choi Seungcheol was simply left with no regrets at his challenge. His eyes almost turned completely black when you decided to fully bounce on him. When you found a good pace, you alternated between bouncing and grinding, one hand squeezing your breast as the other held onto his knee for support. "Fuck, daddyyy," you cried at the stretch, and he could just feel your pussy clenching on his cock even more.

"So fucking needy," he spat, "Can't get enough of my cock." 

You shook your head at his words, mewling when your clit rubbed deliciously at his pelvis and his engorged head kissed your cervix. "D-daddy.." 

"That's it, baby girl," Seungcheol cooed, bucking his hips up to meet yours, "get off on me, ride me 'til you shake. Need you to cum, princess." 

Encouraged by your husband's words, you lifted ‘til just the tip was in before sitting down on him harshly. He continued to praise you and how delicious your warm pussy felt, a string of very lewd words produced with every swivel of your hips. Your face contorted in pleasure and he knew you were close, "touch yourself," came his instructions.

"shit!" You cursed, cumming on the spot when two of your fingers rubbed against your clit.

Seungcheol beamed at how well he knew you, your tells and your triggers when you're about to cum. But what he didn't see coming was just how fast the sight of you getting off on top of him would quickly bring him to the edge too. If he didn’t catch it at the last second, he might have just spilled in you.

In one swift motion, not even pulling out of you, he flipped you on your back and trapped you under his weight. You yelped when he pumped into you, catching you off guard as you were still trying to ride out your own orgasm. 

"Ba-aby, fuck. You're d-driving me insane," he growled, "don't you dare fucking close your eyes. Keep 'em on me." 

Your fingers weaved through his hair, as you desperately tried to follow his instructions. If only he wasn't hell bent on reaching his high, Seungcheol would've laughed at how often you'd train your eyes to look at him every time they kept trying to roll to the back of your head. "Daddy's gonna fuck a baby in you, you want that, princess?" 

"Y-yes daddy! yes!" You mewled, both your legs being lifted up, calves resting on Seungcheol’s meaty shoulders, while he inserted a pillow below your ass. "Fuck me full, daddy, please,” a breathless request.

He folded you in half, planting his knees on the mattress and bracing himself on your sides. Seungcheol drove his cock into you, hitting you so deep that you felt him just below your cervix and you moaned the loudest that night. Strangled moan after strangled moan came out of your mouth while throaty grunts and curse words flew off from his, all this mixed with the explicit sound of your sweaty bodies colliding.

"m-more, daddy! More, please!"  

"Fuuuuuuck, you're insatiable, so fucking tight," Seungcheol moaned. His movements were rough, pulling out of you completely before fully slamming back in and going deep with every move. The sex was everything close to animalistic, you could feel him in the deepest parts of you, consistently hitting a spot that made your brain short circuit. "So needy for my cum, want to be filled so bad."

"Daddy, so- oh my god. So fucking big.”

“Princess, I-I’m.. s-so...close,” he warned, staring at your teary eyes while your hands intertwined behind his neck. Seungcheol buried his cock in you, not bothering to thrust out of your grip, instead grinding endlessly to help stimulate your clit against his pelvis.

"Cum with me, Cheollie. P-please."  

Your husband growled before his hips jerked twice, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls white. His eyes boring into yours and the feeling of being so full only triggered your own release, rendering you into a babbling mess. Seungcheol connected your mouths in a kiss, not caring that you were already out of breath. He interspersed them with praises of how good you felt clenching on his cock. 

"I love you, Cheollie." 

"I know baby, I know. I love you too," he breathed, hissing at how hard he still was despite just hitting his climax. His dick was almost painful in your tight hold, "give me one more, yeah?" 

Before you could even process his question, you were already flipped on all fours, whining at the temporary emptiness. "Wha- Cheol, I-" 

"Be good for daddy, yeah? One more, princess. One more to get you round and full." But who were you to deny your Choi Seungcheol? Your husband who was just as ready to start a family with you like he's always dreamed of. Your arms gave way when you felt him breach your abused hole once more, your limp body allowing him to control your hips even more. He was kneading your ass, surely leaving handprints in his wake. 

"Ch- ahh!" You cried in a silent scream, the pleasure you were feeling just devouring your every being. You could feel the goosebumps rise on you scalp and run to the tips of your toes as Seungcheol pounded you from behind. "Cheollie... Oh.. oh! fu-uuuck." 

He pulled you by your hair harshly, your back flush against his chest, the low rumble of his voice affecting your body, "Call me Cheollie again and you won't get to cum." 

"Daddy!" you whined apologetically, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. 

"There you go, not so hard huh, princess?" Seungcheol teased, an arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other cupped at your cunt. "Color, my love?" 

"G-green, daddy.. Pl-Please... just j-ust cum in me." 

"Fuck, you sound so broken... So greedy for my cum." Seungcheol relentlessly fucked up into you, until his pace grew erratic and bent you both forward. He stopped himself with his forearm to the mattress so as not to crush you, but with your muscles already weak, you simply face planted into the soft hotel pillows, drool and tears staining the white sheets.

"All mine," your husband chanted repetitively, stilling inside your pussy as it clenched around him tightly. Your orgasm rippled through you in a big tidal wave that Seungcheol could just feel your slick coat him anew. Your whole body shook uncontrollably, jolts of electricity alighting all your nerves. With one last loud call of your name, Seungcheol shot his load inside you, white ropes of sticky cum filling your cunt to the brim. His own thighs trembling as he finally collapsed on you, knocking out the little air you had left. He whispered i love you's to your ear, riding out his own orgasm which lasted longer than the both of you expected, especially when he just came a few minutes ago. 

In your two years of marriage, you don't think you've ever been this spent after sex, and neither did Seungcheol. But nothing catches his attention faster than the sound of you sniffing followed by a tiny hiccup. He moves up and pulls out of you so quickly that he hisses harshly, but you whine out even louder, causing alarm bells to ring in his head. 

"nooo..." you cry pathetically, your voice barely above a whisper, "come back."

"Baby, what's wrong?" Seungcheol pulls you towards him, eyes scanning your body for any abnormal pain, dreading the next few words out of his mouth, "did I hurt you?" 

You shook your head no, your hands grabbing at his chest to pull yourself closer to him and bury your face in his neck.

"Princess..." he started gently, still not completely sure if you were really okay. "I need your words. Need you to tell me if I hurt you." 

You choked as you tried to speak, voice straining from all the noises you've made tonight, but you were well aware your crying did nothing to comfort your husband. "I'm okay." 

"Was I too much?" 

"No. Never." You assured with a soft kiss on his chest. "So good to me." 

Seungcheol let out a sigh of relief at your words. "Wanna tell me why you're crying?" He asked, moving you both on your side so he could look at you properly, one hand soothing your back. His warm breath tickled your face, as he tried to wipe away your tears with the softest look in his eyes. 

You felt another squeeze in your heart while warmth crept up in your cheeks, both your hands instinctively covering your face when tears pricked at your eyes once more. You mumbled something but Cheol couldn't really understand and he didn't want to push, so he held you tighter instead, leaving kisses on your shoulder as his free hand brushed your hair. He could feel your tears wet his neck and shoulder and he willed himself to stay patient and calm. 

"I'm sorry," you squeaked after a long bout of silence between you two, "am I scaring you?" 

"A little bit," Seungcheol chuckled. 

You looked up into his eyes, wanting to make sure he knows he did nothing wrong, "I'm just overwhelmed," your voice began to crack again at the last word, "I... I just... I really want a family with you, Cheol," you sobbed, your hands attempting to cover your face again but your husband was quick enough to grab at them. His own cupped your face instead, a thumb wiping at your tears as he let out the brightest smile, his own cheeks dusted in a light pink shade. "I really want this to work, Cheol." 

"I do, too, baby but in our own time, yeah? If it’s for us, then it will happen one way or another. Let's not pressure ourselves too much. I don't want you to pressure yourself too much," your husband comforted, "Besides, with or without kids, I already have you... and Kkuma… you're already family to me."  

You were pretty sure you felt your heart grow a size bigger at his words, mentally thanking the heavens you had a husband who adored and loved you so much.

Your moment was cut off by the incessant buzz of a phone and when you looked towards the bedside table to check, sure enough your device was vibrating towards the edge. Picking it up to stop the ring, your eyes grew wide at the notification that flashed on top of the screen, a smile dancing on your lips as you comprehended the app’s words in black font.

"Cheollie?" 

"Yeah?"

"I'm ovulating."

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated ☺️

[minimujina]

wanderer in his season of healing makes me so happy. i love that he is safe enough to become softer again, that he is regaining some of his previously “weak” attributes and finding peace with them. he is becoming measured and introspective, and thinking before he speaks, perhaps a result of both his healing and his melancholy; i think it’s beautiful that he is finally able to safely feel his sadness and process the things that have happened. he is simultaneously finding peace and feeling all the difficult emotions he previously consumed with anger. it is painful, but right.

his sense of humor is still intact, certainly rough around the edges as you’d expect, though much less biting than before. it’s easy to tell that most anything aggressive he says is a front, a front that he is no longer concerned with presenting as absolute truth. perhaps the front is his sense of humor, and his affection is all thinly veiled behind jabs and sour grumbles—he is not willing to divulge the intimate details of that, however, preferring to leave it up to interpretation.

i just think of him and his healing and i feel like if he were to fall in love, it would be such a sweet and gentle and quiet sort of thing, just like his newfound peace. he ponders over many things, brooding by himself as much as he can, though he occasionally allows space for others to brood with him. that, i think, is something unique he may grow in. there are people who cannot tolerate strong emotions in themselves and certainly not in others—but he is the kind of person who can. he is the kind of person you could sit with and exist in your sadness and just be sad, and that’s okay. he’s not offering words of comfort or anything, but he doesn’t need to. anything he’d say would be useless anyways, he knows what it’s like and knows that a presence is enough and existing in your emotions safely is enough. he can appreciate someone who is straightforward about feeling unwell, who doesn’t seek pity, who is alright with sitting in the mud. he will gladly sit with you, then, as long as you don’t expect him to get all mushy about things.

he would do well falling in love quietly, not having to beat around the bush. naturally, pieces would fall into place, and he’d find himself yearning to be in the presence of another in a way he’d never before experienced. he had never really wanted to be around anyone, had never sought out anyone’s presence. but once he has been treated gently, has fallen softly into the arms of a likened soul who has the patience and understanding to touch his rough edges without recoiling, he finds his third space being with this new safe person.

and despite his reluctance to be anything but mysterious and nonchalant, i believe wanderer in his healing season would become quite the romantic. not in the sappy sense, but in the quiet love sense i’ve been talking about. firm and protective, subtle and gentle, almost gentlemanlike if it weren’t for his falsely rotten attitude he enjoyed projecting. romantic in a princely way, in a reverently respectful way, in a grotesquely wholesome way.

only the most chaste touches and kisses; he’s still getting used to affection, and would abhor pda. in private he’s much more open to being touched, because he is safe. if he is not safe, he is deeply conditioned to be conscious of his vulnerabilities, and it’s something that will take a lot of time to override, if even at all. but it’s a massive and beautiful step that he is even willing to receive affection at all, that he would want it from a partner in any amount.

hates eye contact, likes playing with hands. likes tracing veins and creases in skin and freckles and scars; he finds them fascinating, as he has nothing of the sort on his artificial body. one of his unique ways he shows affection is what could be called “studying” you. he likes to brood (with you there; perhaps it could be called parallel brooding) and take your arm and trace all the splotches, imperfections, veins, tendons he can find. he likes to touch more than he likes to be touched i think. perhaps he becomes amusingly selfish in this way. perhaps he is more averse to receiving than giving the affection because his disgust towards himself still lingers. perhaps he still has harmful core beliefs to unlearn.

i think he is full of a love that is strong and quiet, a love that he gives so sparingly, and only in pieces, never all at once. unless, that is, someone comes along and manages to drag it all out like a magnet—his carefully crafted exterior is in pieces, just like that! but oh, once someone is in possession of his love, he begins to know them so intimately, more intimately than he lets on. he so deeply knows who he loves and he knows how to give and to take action and so he does it, silently, for he is adept at perceiving the needs of his loved ones. reading body language and facial expressions is second nature to him at this point; nothing can get past him.

he studies you wordlessly with the expression of a cat who loves and reveres its human, except it’s the kind of cat who believes it owns the human, not the other way around. you’re his responsibility that he has taken on like an extension of himself because he loves you, and you have loved him, and now he hardly wants you out of his sight. his journey of rediscovery and learning self acceptance has been mentally and emotionally arduous, but ever since you came in and made loving him seem so easy, he’s felt much more at peace, and has had the capacity to reflect and process with much more freedom to sincerely feel.

stupid fictional character i hate him i hate him so much he is not real and i hate him

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 31 - Proposal - Savanaclaw

Characters include: Leona Kingscholar, Ruggie Bucchi, Jack Howl

Word count: 1934

Leona

Who proposes: Leona

Leona is not a marriage type of guy. He’s not even much of a dating guy in general. It all seemed so arbitrary to him. It makes sense, considering the way he was raised growing up. In his world, marriage was less about love and more about power. They were merely glorified alliances used to unite kingdoms. 

Then, Leona met you. At first, he considered you a fun fling. He would take you out, buy you whatever you asked for, and generally found you entertaining. He certainly never thought he would actually fall for you. But, eventually, even he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer, and from that day forward, your relationship was serious. 

He loves you so, so much, but the thought of marriage was still a strange concept to him. For one, he would need the approval of his parents, which just seemed like a chore to him. He knew they would probably say yes to the idea, but it still felt like too much. 

However, he would also be willing to do anything for you. So, after many discussions between the two of you, he decided to finally suck it up and ask his parents. It wasn’t easy for him, if only because it felt a bit humiliating, but his parents agreed, meaning he was now free to propose to you. 

This is the one thing he wouldn’t let his parents control. Sure, he had to ask them for permission, but he would decide how to do it. This was between you and him, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

He rejected the idea to propose using some family heirloom. It seemed cheap and unoriginal, and Leona didn’t want to do that to you. You deserve something that is just for you, something that shows how much he loves you. 

So, after some debating, he settles on commissioning a custom ring from the best jewelry maker he can find. Money is no worry, of course, and he has the ring perfectly customized to suit you. It’s a beautiful ring, and he knows you’ll love it. 

At this point, it’s no surprise that he’s planning to propose. The surprise left the moment he had to ask his parents. Still, he wanted this to be as memorable as possible, so he took it upon himself to make everything perfect. 

You adored the gardens on the palace grounds. There’s such a variety of plants and animals, and you spend a lot of time there. Leona likes it too, but more so because it’s an excellent napping place. He figures it’s the best place to propose to you. 

He guides you through the gardens, stopping in his favorite part, which is a hidden spot far away from the prying eyes around the palace. Once there, he gets down on one knee, presenting the ring to you. 

It’s rare for Leona to get sappy, even with you, but he does here. This is the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, and it makes you tear up a bit. He’s actually being vulnerable with you, which you love. You say yes, and he slips the ring on your finger. 

Then, he pulls you down with him, laying on his side and holding you close to him. After all that he went through to propose to you, he needs a rest. The two of you take a well-deserved nap, knowing you’re going to need the energy for when you go talk to his family about the proposal. 

Your wedding is, much to Leona’s displeasure, a grand event. He wanted something small, but he is still royalty, and this is a big deal. His family is in charge of planning most of the wedding, but you do get a small say here and there when there’s wiggle room. There’s plenty of guests, most of them allies of the country, but you did manage to sneak some of your friends onto the guest list as well. Leona mostly stuck to the sidelines unless he had to talk to someone, and you were more than happy to stay with him until you could finally return to your room. 

Ruggie

Who proposed: Ruggie

Ruggie has not thought about marriage once. He has far too much going on to worry about such trivial things. Not to mention, Ruggie didn’t exactly have the best relationships to look up to as a kid. He has no parents, his Gran has always been single, and most of the couples in his neighborhood are toxic and on the verge of divorce. 

It took Ruggie forever to even consider dating you. He couldn’t afford to for the longest time. He always had something going on, whether it be a new side hustle or a new scheme. Eventually, his schedule does clear up, and he finally agrees to date you. 

From there, things go better than expected. He’s still constantly busy, but he’s able to clear up time for you, and that’s more than enough. Even when he’s swamped with work, Ruggie never neglects you, always taking time to ensure you’re happy with the relationship. 

It takes him a long time to consider the idea of marrying you. He honestly likes where the two of you are at. He has a stable job, and he’s slowly climbing the corporate ladder. Of course, he still has a few side hustles here and there as well, just in case. You have a nice job of your own, and you’re both happy. Marriage just isn’t necessary in his eyes. 

At least, not until his Gran gets the idea into his head. Ever since she first met you, she’s been bugging Ruggie about popping the question. It’s rare that someone from their village gets to live the life he’s currently living, and she thinks he deserves to marry you after how hard he worked to get here. 

For a while, he thought she sounded ridiculous. He’s already happy where he’s at right now; why would being legally binded make it any different? But, the longer he sits with the idea, the more he can’t help but crave it. All things considered, the two of you are pretty comfortable right now. He could certainly afford a ring and a small wedding, but is that what he really wants? 

Ruggie has spent so much time denying the idea of something like marriage because he always assumed it was something he could never have. Now that he’s legitimately faced with the possibility, he’s lost and pretty confused. 

He mills it over for a while, trying his best to hide his feelings from you. Normally, he hates lying to you about something like this, but he doesn’t want to worry you, or, worse, freak you out. If you weren’t ready for marriage, him bringing it up might upset you, and he wants to avoid that. 

Although, he can only hide it for so long before you start to notice. When you bring up your concerns about him, he breaks easily, and he spills his guts about how this has been eating him up inside. You listen as he talks, considering his words as you think of how to respond. 

You love him, of course you do. And, whether or not he wants to marry you, that will never change. You reassure him that, whatever he decides, you’ll stick with him. If he does want to get married, you’ll be happy, and if he decides he’s comfortable where the two of you are at, you’ll be happy here too. 

That’s pretty much all of the motivation he needs. Without a ring or a plan, he drops to one knee and proposes to you right there, promising to get you a ring the second you say yes. You do, and Ruggie immediately pulls you into a tight hug. Later that day, the two of you go ring shopping, and his Gran is very happy when you call her to tell her the news. 

Your wedding would hardly be considered a wedding by most. It’s more like a small get-together in his neighborhood mostly consisting of the children he grew up taking care of. Many of them are grown now, but they all took part in the festivities. Ruggie, of course, is mostly excited about the food that was paid for by other people, and he makes sure to bring some to-go containers. You have to remind him that it is his wedding, and he can take home all of the leftovers if he wants. That makes him almost as happy as he is during your vows. 

Jack

Who proposes: Jack

Jack has always secretly dreamed about marriage. Wolf beastmen are very family-oriented and prefer living in packs. It’s very common for them to find a partner early on and stick with them. Jack is no exception. 

The second he laid eyes on you, he knew you were the one. It’s cheesy and a bit embarrassing, but it’s true. It was almost like his instincts were screaming at him when he saw you, and he knew right then and there. 

Courting was a bit strange. You did not know what was happening for the longest time, and Jack was far too awkward to explain himself. Eventually, you manage to figure out what he’s trying to do, and you officially begin dating after that. 

His family just absolutely adores you. They’re excited to have you as a part of the pack, which also makes Jack feel reassured that he made a good choice with you. 

If confessing was an awkward experience, proposing is by far much worse for Jack. To be honest, he’s been wanting to propose since the second you both graduated, but he knew better than to spring it on you back then, and he’s still hesitating a bit in the present. 

Realistically, he knows you’ll say yes, but he’s always been a bit shy about expressing such intense emotions, and proposing is nothing but expressing intense emotions. His family are a huge support for him during this time, as they always have been. They encourage him to go for it, and that does help him quite a bit. 

He goes ring shopping, taking his time to pick out a ring that screams you. If you’re going to be wearing it, he wants you to like it. 

His proposal is actually much simpler than he initially thought it would be. He gets home after ring shopping, and he asks to talk to you. You look at him expectantly, and he wastes no time in getting to the point. He kneels down in front of you, presenting the ring to you. He does feel his tail wagging a bit at the look of shock and awe on your face, and he knows he made the perfect choice. 

You say yes, of course, and his tail goes turbo mode. Despite his confidence that you’d say yes, he was still nervous. This is a huge deal after all. Once some of the emotions have calmed down, he calls his parents, assuring them that everything went well. It’s cute hearing how excited they are, and they promise to come visit soon so they can see the ring in person. 

Your wedding is a pretty average wedding in the best way possible. It’s fancy but not over-the-top, and the guest list is just big enough to fit the most important people in your lives. Jack did manage to convince you to get cupcakes that were decorated to look like cacti, and they actually came out looking adorable.

[withleeknow]

lost cause.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, kinda angsty idk?; unedited bc we live just to suffer, erhm i don't think there's a lot of warnings here, open to interpretation if oc is depressed 🤔; basically “it's rotten work,” “not to me. not if it’s you,” + that one scene in nobody wants this (if you’ve watched the show you’ll know what i’m talking about) word count: 0.6k listen to 🎧: risk - gracie abrams

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

“i think i’m starting to hate myself again.”

your voice is casual when you say it, indifferent, nonchalant, as if you’re merely bringing up the weather or reading from a shopping list. you’re used to it by now — the fact that it comes and goes, that if there are highs then there must be lows too. that sometimes, there are no good days, just better ones.

you know minho hasn’t fallen asleep because you still feel him playing with your hair while you lay on his chest, his index finger twisting a lock around before letting it fall over your back. he doesn’t falter, not even once. no change in his calming breathing, no sign that he’s all too surprised by your sudden announcement. you suppose he’s used to it as much as you are.

he’s quiet for a while, like the night outside the comfort of your bedroom. the weather forecast warned you of thunderstorms, but everything remained still and safe. there wasn’t even a spark of lightning to be found.

when minho finally speaks, only a simple “okay,” comes out, followed by a question. “then i’ll love you more to make up for it. how much time do you need? couple weeks?”

you shake your head. “longer,” you say.

“couple months?”

a beat of silence. another shake. “longer.”

“couple years?” he asks. no hesitation. “couple decades?”

minho can’t see you from this position, but you can hear the sound of his heart. he’s steady and secure and you’re nothing more than a fickle flame that’s always on the verge of going out.

“you can’t handle it,” you tell him. “better to quit while you’re ahead.”

it would be so easy, wouldn’t it? for him to pack up before he realizes somewhere down the line that he’s wasted his time and effort on a lost cause?

“i know what you’re doing, by the way. stop that.”

you pretend to ask, “what am i doing?”

before you know it, he’s already managed to flip the both of you over. he’s hovering over you with his forearms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in, chest to chest, and his hips pressed flush against yours.

“i told you i’m not going anywhere,” minho says, brushing some hair away from your face. “stop trying to get me to leave.”

you blink. he’s so close and oh so warm, so beautiful as he stares down at you, so patient and kind when you’re telling him that you need him to love the parts that even you can’t bring yourself to love.

your hands settle on his shoulders. “don’t blame me when you regret it.”

“i won’t regret it. not if it’s you.”

then he’s kissing you, soft and slow, and that’s when you finally hear the first roar of thunder that should’ve arrived hours ago. he kisses you like he was made for you — or you for him, you’re not really sure, but it can’t possibly matter that much.

“so?” minho prompts after he’s pulled away, “how long?”

his eyes are sparkling and you’re still a little dazed. lightheaded but you know that you’ll always love him the most, know that you’re pushing it, know that you’re asking for what many would never be willing to give. “what if i say i’ll need you for the rest of my life?”

his lips curl into a tender smile, one that he presses to your mouth once again. you taste devotion in the kiss, in the way one of his hands crosses the short distance to hold your face so delicately it makes your heart hurt.

“i’ll love you more for the rest of our lives then.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 30.10.2024]

[gremlingottoosilly]

Colonel!kőnig × Ballerina!reader where he accidentally watches a ballerina performance and of course falls in love with the reader who plays the role of the evil swan

Konig never understood going to performances. Yes, it's something about being more cultured, actually seeing good art instead of the same raunchy novels his whole squadron is reading instead of doing something useful. He can't believe that the higher-ups would really waste so much money to give his whole team a bunch of tickets to a fucking ballet performance - but he guesses that it was on a very good sale. Enough of a deal to force at least 30 men and women out of their usual uniforms and into something resembling the parade ones - as much as he fucking hated wearing so many signifiers of his rank. It would always bring too much attention from civilians and too much teasing from his squadmates. Their pet colonel needs at least one tactical Horangi to actually talk to the receptionist. Konig never understood art - and he continued to never understand it when the first row of dancing girls went on the stage. They were pretty, he supposed, with long legs and pretty muscles - but honestly, pin-up models interested him a lot more. Maybe if the ballerinas would actually show their legs a bit more instead of dancing like a bunch of- You lock eyes with him - a huge man sitting in the front row in the audience, it's not that hard to miss him - and everything changes. For him. Somehow, someway. He didn't even get into the performance plot fully, but once you changed from an innocent, boring, samey-looking white swan into your black dress and bold makeup, he suddenly understood everything there was to be understood. Konig is an art lover now. Even if he can't quite remember the actual name of the play you're in. He doesn't know the proper etiquette for sitting through a ballet performance, but he punches a couple of his guys when they are trying to whistle at every somewhat romantic interaction between you and the male dancer. A bunch of fuckers noticed how their colonel was looking at you - and he is pretty sure that if he isn't firm enough with them, they might as well kidnap you as a pretty little gift for their commander. A small trophy in this endless war, a feeble attempt at busting the morale by getting their boss a girlfriend. Konig thinks that he won't even be opposed to said gift if it was proposed right about now. After the performance, he eye daggers every pathetic fuck who is giving you flowers - and it's quite a lot of people since you are prima and play the main role - right before actually dragging one of the poor guys into a secluded room and lightly punching him on the face until he is out, so Konig could take the opulent flower bouquet for himself. Just for him to stumble over his words and barely even say anything as he gives you the flowers, not knowing how to elegantly say he earns more than your ballet salary and he is willing to spend thousands of euros on giving you your own dance studio if you could only accept his flowers and- You giggle awkwardly at the giant man standing in front of you - you accept the flowers with a light smile and apologize for getting a bit of heavy makeup on his hand(Konig considers never washing his hand again) Yeah, Konig is definitely a cultured man who is going to every one of your shows now. And if you'd fall out of the organizer's favor and stop playing the main role... It's never too late to ask his boys to get their colonel a little treat.

[aestas---estas]

Loving Hands

MDNI 18+ | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~2,9 k words | fem!reader, vaginal fingering, choking/breathplay, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it in real life folks), lots of dirty talk, cuddling and aftercare | if I forgot a tag/tw please tell me | Read on AO3

“I want you to choke me tonight.” Your voice rings out through the otherwise quiet room.

You and Simon had been having a comfortable evening in your shared flat. He was in between deployments at the moment and it had been great having him back home. To you, he was the sweetest man alive. You knew the broad strokes of what he did when he wasn't home, knew he killed people, probably tortured them too, but he never let that side take over or rear its head in your proximity — the worst of it, if you want to call it that, came when he got jealous and protective. And oh, how you loved his protectiveness.

Simon brought you flowers, paid for dinner on your dates, opened doors, helped you over puddles in the streets; he was the perfect gentleman. Simon was also a master at following orders. Hence the request you just threw his way as you were watching him wash dishes from your seat perched on the counter.

“Yeah?” Simon asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah,” you reiterate, plucking the plate he had just finished rinsing to dry it. “Not too hard, nothing that will leave marks, but I wanna feel that floaty feeling. I also want praise tonight; tell me I'm good, tell me how it feels, talk me through it.”

“Alright,” Simon answers with a nod, draining the water from the sink, shaking his hands to dry them, making droplets of water hit your arms and face.

You giggle at his antics, wiping the water away from your skin before pressing a soft kiss to the side of his face.

It had taken some getting used to, making your wants and needs in the bedroom known. Before Simon, most of your lovers had been selfish, and the few times you had voiced your kinks they had been shut down or executed so poorly you didn't want to voice them anymore. But Simon thrived with clear instructions. Praise me, degrade me, use me, worship me. So long as he knew what you wanted him to do, he was more than willing to make your wishes come true.

It’s a few hours later, with Simon spreading his legs wide on the sofa, you tucked close under his arm, the TV playing some rerun of an old show you’ve both seen more times than you can count, that he brings it up again.

“Now, love? Or later in bed?” His hand is slowly stroking up and down your arm, nothing overtly sexual but no less intimate nonetheless.

You hadn’t even thought about having sex in the livingroom, had assumed he’d take your instructions from before and utilize them once you’d both gotten ready for bed. But you can’t deny the way your stomach heats and flutters in that all too familiar way.

“I wouldn’t mind now,” you confess, feeling your face heat under Simon’s intense stare. He’s always had a staring problem, never letting you out of his sight more than necessary, and if you ever were to find yourself not right by his side, you could always feel his gaze on you, making you feel safe.

Simon hums his understanding, a sound that vibrates through his strong chest, before redirecting his eyes to the TV; his fingers still wandering up and down your arm softly. You know his focus is entirely on you, on your reactions, even if he is acting like it isn’t, and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together for a brief moment of relief. You hadn’t been particularly horny, but just knowing that you’re going to get fucked just the way you want, has arousal already pooling in the juncture between your legs.

“You’re always so soft,” Simon murmurs, dropping his face to the top of your head, practically nuzzling you. You smile but say nothing, just lets him voice his thoughts. “Smell fucking amazing too. Can’t believe you’re all mine sometimes.”

You want to echo his sentiment, say that he’s all yours too, that you feel just as lucky as he does, but his hand has dropped from your arm to your thigh, squeezing and massaging your flesh in the way he knows you love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He punctuates the statement with a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers slipping dangerously close to where you want them — where you need them. The way he pushes your legs apart isn’t rough, but it could never be described as gentle either, and when his hand dips below the waistband of your sweats you don’t suppress the moan of anticipation that leaves your throat. “Eager one, aren’t you?”

He’s teasing you, both with his words and the way his fingers run up and down your slit — inside your pants, but not yet inside your underwear. You don’t answer verbally, already melting against him, giving in to the pleasure you know is coming, only nodding lazily as your eyes slip shut.

You can hear the smirk in Simon’s voice as he speaks again. “That’s it, just let go and let me take care of you, love.” He presses down a little firmer, rubbing tight, slow circles around your clit and relishes in the way you tense your thighs in preparation; you want to grind yourself against his touch, he knows it, you know it, and it takes all your willpower to not give in.

“Please, Simon,” you whine, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, opening your neck up for him to plant open mouthed kisses on. Not one to let his love go unsatisfied, Simon leans down to trace your weak spots with his lips, making your pulse flutter and your breath hitch under his ministrations.

“Sound so pretty when you whine and beg,” he says against your skin and finally, finally, slips his fingers into your underwear. “Already so wet for me, love.” He drags the digits through your folds, gathering some of the slick to smear over your clit. His touch is gentle but precise, he knows just how you like it and is intent on making you enjoy yourself.

“Choke me,” you beg, a reminder about what you're expecting, about what started this whole thing in the first place.

“Patience,” Simon mumbles against the length of your throat, his fingers pressing down just enough to be uncomfortable before going back to the toe curling circles.

He plants more kisses along your heated skin, sucks gently at your pulse point in a way that drags an embarrassingly loud moan from your throat. The TV is still on, but whatever was playing on it got drowned out by the noises of Simon's fingers gliding through your wetness and your panting breaths. 

It's Simon that groans when he finally slips two fingers inside. “Fuck you're wet.”

You nod lazily, clenching around his digits, already practically humping against his hand — you love it, love him, you need more.

“Only for you,” you manage to say and you can feel his lips quirk up in a smirk against your shoulder.

You beg for him to go faster, and ever the obedient soldier, Simon does; pulling moans and whimpers from you until you're nothing but a wet, panting mess on the couch.

“Doing so good for me, love,” he says before moving his free hand to wrap around your throat. It's not unexpected, but it catches you by surprise nonetheless; you had been so wrapped up in his pumping fingers, so focused on chasing the pleasure he was providing. 

“Fuck,” Simon groans again, teeth scraping the shell of your ear. “You like that, huh? Go on, cum on my fingers, love.”

His palm presses against your clit, his fingers never slowing their constant in and out, and you hump needily against him. It's when he curls his digits just right to rub against that spongy spot inside and tightens his hand to constrict your airflow just enough to make your mind float, that you explode. White hot pleasure shoots through your limbs, your back arching, eyes squeezing shut as you rut against him and cum with his name spilling from your lips.

The hand around your throat eases and you have to take a moment to catch your breath. When you finally turn your head enough to blink up at him, Simon is cleaning your slick off his fingers, eyes closed as he indulges in the taste of you. The sight sends another bolt of excitement through you, making you squeeze your thighs together. 

“More,” you say, already swinging your legs over his to straddle his thick thighs, hands searching for the hem of his shirt to pull it up and off. 

Simon chuckles but lets you undress him. It takes some combined effort to remove his jeans without getting up from the couch, but you’re both hellbent on not losing the contact between your bodies.

“You want to be on top, love?” He asks, voice low and practically dripping with arousal. His words vibrate through his chest and it makes you grind down on the obvious bulge in his boxers.

You turn it over in your mind; the idea of being on top, of being the one more in control. But ultimately you shake your head in the negative. Tonight was a night for submission, for letting Simon play your body like an instrument, for letting go and giving in. 

With strength that always seems to surprise you, he grabs hold of your thighs, rough fingers digging into plush flesh, and flips the two of you over on the couch.

“So fucking pretty like this,” Simon murmurs, placing soft, wet kisses on the length of your throat, nudging at the neckline of the shirt you wore — one of his, Riley stamped across the back. It made him crazy every time he saw you in it. “All worked up, so needy for more.”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your voice enough with words, head already scrambled with pleasure and anticipation.

“So wet and ready for me.” He keeps sweet-talking you, breath fanning over your skin, hands wandering up and down your body until your clothes are laying in a pile on the floor and his hips are slotted between your spread legs. 

“Simon,” you whine, fingers digging into his muscular back, hips lifting from the couch in search of friction. 

And he has the gall to laugh, a deep chuckle that makes molten hot desire pool in your guts. You're just about ready to explode, to beg for him to just fuck you already, when he ruts against your sopping cunt, the head of his cock nudging against your clit.

“Aching for it, aren't you? Naughty girl,” he says, rubbing his cock up and your folds, coating himself in your wetness before slipping just the first inch inside. It's a stretch, it always is, but you crave more.

Simon mouths his way up your neck, finding your lips and kisses you dizzy. He swallows your moan as he sinks in, filling you up in a way that always makes you ache just slightly.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, his hips unmoving as the two of you just bask in the feeling of being connected so intimately. 

A few more kisses get exchanged, lazy and languid, all lips and tongues and deep moans, but before long you're aching for more.

“Move,” you demand between kisses, hands roaming the vastness of his broad back before coming to rest on his ass, pushing just enough to give him an incentive to follow orders. 

He's slow about it, mean even, pulling out until just the head is lodged inside before pushing back in. And when you thrust up against him in an attempt to make him move faster and deeper, Simon grips your hips and keeps you pinned down against the couch. 

“Just stay still for me. ‘M gonna make it so good for you, but you have to be a good girl and do as you're told,” he says and a whine passes your lips as you struggle against all the feelings bubbling up inside your chest. It's not just the physical pleasure, it's the emotional intimacy and just everything — you're so goddamn in love with this man it makes you want to explode.

Simon's next move is less of a roll of his hips and more of a snap, slamming his cock inside in a way that nearly punches all the air from your lungs. One of his hands moves from their position to keep you still to instead lock around your throat.

“This what you wanted?” He asks, a quick check in to make sure you're okay before anything threatens to spiral out of control. You had asked for choking, but he needed to make sure anyway.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding as best as you can with the limited movement your head is given.

And that's all Simon needs to hear, fingers constricting over your throat as he fucks you right there on the couch; other hand still on your hip, making sure you lay still and let him take care of you.

“Feel so good ‘round me, love. So fucking good,” he groans, so low and deep it could nearly count as a growl, punctuating every word with a punching thrust.

Gasps and moans and the filthy, wet sounds of Simon's cock slamming into your cunt fills the room, and the pleasure is all you can focus on.

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, your chest heaving and you swear you're probably drooling with how your mouth hangs open.

“Such a good fucking girl. Taking my cock so well.” Most of what Simon is mumbling gets lost in the grunts he makes, but just the sound of his voice gets you closer to the edge.

He keeps whispering sweet nothings and filthy words, but it's when he thumbs at your clit that's your undoing. Just a few quick, hard circles around that bundle of nerves has you careening towards ecstasy and your legs constrict around his middle as he fucks you through the orgasm.

“That's it,” Simon growls as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, the hand on your throat squeezing just enough to make you feel light headed. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

Your climax ebbs and flows, a tidal wave of dizzying pleasure that the oxygen deprivation only seems to add to. A garbled noise leaves your throat and it's enough of a tell for Simon to ease his grip on you. 

“‘M gonna cum. Where do you want it?” His hips are still snapping against yours, cock racing in and out of your weeping cunt and it takes a few moments as you catch your breath before you manage to register it's no longer rhythmic. 

“Where you want it, love?” Simon repeats through gritted teeth, thighs flexing and relaxing with every thrust. 

“Inside,” you manage to gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulders, red half moons denting his skin.

“Fuck, fuck!” He groans, spilling inside of you as your inner walls all but milk him dry.

He collapses on top of you, face buried between your neck and shoulder, breath heavy and hot on your skin as you both bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasms. His lips find your pulse point again, just a chaste kiss, but it still sends a shiver through your body.

“No,” you complain when he moves to get off you, cradling his head as you pet his hair.

“Not going far,” Simon promises, hissing from the overstimulation as he slips his softening cock out of your wet heat. “Gotta clean up.”

You make a whining noise of complaint but let him go nonetheless. You make yourself comfortable on the couch, following Simon’s movements with your ears as he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You can hear the water of the faucet turn on, then off, and then he’s back by your side with a damp towel and a glass of water.

“Drink,” he says, shoving the glass into your hand before carefully swiping the towel between your legs to clean off any excess cum. He settles in beside you, tucks you in close to his side, presses a kiss to the top of your head and throws the blanket that had been draped over the couch’s back across both of you.

“You okay?” He asks. Always making sure. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m perfect,” you answer, smiling up at him before craning your neck to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Me too.”

You don’t remember falling asleep, don’t remember making your way to the bedroom, but when you wake in the middle of the night there’s a soft mattress underneath you and a fluffy goose down duvet over your body with Simon’s arm slung across your middle and his warm chest pressed tightly against your back. He’s snoring softly behind you and the rhythmic beat of his heart lulls you back to sleep.

--- Masterlist