#imagine the sexually charged conversations

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

In being reminded that Sanctuary had a musical episode, I'm back in my Lena-and-the-Sanctuary daydreams. Which means that I'm strongly considering the fact that Helen Magnus is an older woman, and that Lena has had some arguably charged scenes with similarly older women in canon (cough*rhea*cough), which leads me to the conclusion that Lena may or may not have had relations with this woman:

[konemanen]

Honestly I've been thinking about why Qimir flashing Osha is not considered cringe/ violating/off putting by more people especially women. I haven't come up with anything other than Manny was the perfect person to play The Stranger.

Also It's not enough that the Stranger is beautiful but his seduction is more compelling than overly sexual. He steps out of the water and immediately strikes a conversation that stirs away from his nudity but you can't help but notice he is naked. He gives OSHA the illusion that she is in charge and could overpower him when we all know that's a lie.

I'm trying to imagine other famous actors pulling this off, and I'm already seeing them flexing their biceps and twitching their man boobs as how they would act this out. The stranger doesn't even need to do all that. It's beyond his face. It's his soft voice. His mannerisms. The tilt of his head.

Honestly we are SO lucky we have Manny playing this role. He does seduction so well. Not too much. Not too cringe. Just right

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Five-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Toxic Behaviours, Possessive Behaviours, Mentions of GunPoint (enchanted gun but still), Italian, Flirty!Theodore!Nott, Angst, Sexual Tension.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"I don't know about this, Em..."

Giggles danced through the air, originating from your blonde companion, currently immersed in a thorough investigation of your shared closet. Her voice, laced with amusement, murmured something indecipherable, the words muffled by the solidity of the wooden door. A long sigh escaped your lips, a potent release of pure exasperation.

"This is crazy," you muttered to yourself. "Nott is going to need an entire bloody medical team when he catches sight of me..."

The enchanting red dress, a gem sourced from a privy boutique in Hogsmeade under Mattheo's explicit direction, molded itself to every contour as you confronted your reflection in the mirror. As your eyes traversed the fabric's journey, or rather, the lack thereof--there was no escaping the undeniable truth; the dress was exquisitely tight, sparing no nuance of your silhouette to the imagination.

"Doubt he'll even get the chance..." Emily replied, finally reemerging from the closet, "lover boy will likely claim his head the moment he fixes his gaze on you for too long."

Emily's cheeky response added a layer of playful anticipation to the charged atmosphere, earning an exaggerated eye roll from you in response as you fought hard to suppress your smirk.

When you'd embarked on the hunt for the ideal dress, you had brought Emily along for her valuable opinion. As your gaze fell upon this specific piece, uncertainty gripped you, convinced it might be a touch excessive. Yet, Emily staunchly opposed that notion. Her unwavering belief in its perfection became a contagion, subjecting you to prolonged minutes of relentless persuasion. Gradually, her infectious enthusiasm chipped away at your resistance until, inevitably, you succumbed--reluctantly handing over Mattheo's gifted galleons.

"And do I truly wish to burden my conscience with the death of the schools most popular Italian playboy? And not to mention Riddle's certain Azkaban sentence...all but a couple months from graduation?" you deadpanned, fingers instinctively rising to massage your temples in an attempt to alleviate the burgeoning headache. "Maybe I should just borrow something from your-"

"Absolutely not," Emily interjected, her voice cutting through your proposal with firm decisiveness. She approached you, a sparkle in her eyes, and added, "you look perfect. Trust me on this."

Meeting your eyes in the mirror, Emily's irises shimmered with a warm reassurance. She adjusted her flowy emerald green dress, a garment she had acquired at Tom's request--they were going to the masquerade together, though the status of their relationship still remained uncertain.

Emily, ever the advocate of going with the flow, a concept apparently foreign to Tom, said she wasn't in any rush to make things official, understanding that perhaps it would look a tad bit odd for him to start dating her after he'd just paraded you around to all of his friends, merely less than a few weeks go.

And as a result of this, you and Emily had a long, in depth heart-to-heart conversation where you made sure to unravel any lingering issues--the liberating honesty and the comfort of having someone in your corner again felt tangible. Although initially perturbed by the extended secrecy, Emily eventually grasped the rationale behind your discretion, acknowledging the protective measures taken for yourself and your desired career.

The depth of your longstanding friendship played a pivotal role in fostering this understanding, and you'd never been more thankful to have such a wonderful, supportive friend in your life.

"What do you think Michael will do when he spots you wearing traitor colours?" you teased, an impish grin playing on your lips as you watched Emily fix her long blonde hair, adjusting herself in the reflection.

"I reckon he'll be rather unamused," she snorted, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "But he'll be in for a real surprise when he sees you cozying up with Theodore Nott, the traitor extraordinaire."

"Cozying up with Theodore?" you retorted with a smirk, feigning innocence. "Absolutely not, I just recently cleared my conscience, I intend on keeping it that way."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Italian playboy; word on the street is he can be quite insistent..." Emily spun back around to face you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. "My suggestion is that you tell him about Mattheo before he unwittingly finds himself sharing a bed with Berkshire."

Your expression sank, and a twist formed in your stomach. "Oh, gods, Emily, I need to change," you exclaimed, spinning around and making a beeline for the closet. "Surely there's a garbage bag or your grandmas old moo-moo hidden in here that I could wear instead, right?"

Emily's sudden snort echoed through the room, reverberating far louder than you'd expected. With swift precision, she wielded her wand, slamming the closet door shut before you could reach it.

"Come on, it's going to be fun," she teased, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Give those cocky Slytherin boys an experience they've never had before. Making them squirm is a rare opportunity--after all, they're not used to being denied anything."

You hesitated, a reluctant smile crawling across your face at her words as you silently considered the prospect. Mattheo had always made it abundantly clear that girls were typically within arm's reach for him, and he could have anyone he desired. The idea of driving him to the brink tonight, knowing he couldn't do a thing about it after explicitly instructing Theodore to ask you, ignited a rebellious spark within you.

"Alright, but this better not turn into a disaster," you responded, your internal thoughts dancing between uncertainty and a subtle thrill. "If the mafia comes after me because I smacked their most prized possession, I'm blaming you."

"You look fucking hot. Own it," she encouraged, a playful smile dancing on her lips. Turning her attention to the door, a sudden realization struck her. "I've got to run. Promised Michael I'd help him with his bloody tie--but don't forget to check the mail. Something arrived for you earlier."

With a swift goodbye, she whisked away, grabbing her matching emerald green eye mask, leaving you to contemplate the mysterious package. Not one to dawdle, you approached the table by the door, spotting a small brown box with your name inscribed on it.

With eager anticipation, you unwrapped the package, unveiling a stunningly bejeweled red mask. A note accompanied the alluring accessory, bearing the cryptic message:

"Something about me, I fucking hate the colour yellow."

A smirk played on your lips as you extracted the exquisite gift from its velvet cradle. The crimson mask lay in your hands, a stunning creation adorned with gemstones that caught and reflected the light with each subtle movement. Blush flooded your cheeks as you approached the mirror, slipping the mask on. Turning your head in every direction, you marveled at the way it enhanced your features, making you feel like a mysterious enchantress.

The beauty of the mask was beyond words, and even though the logical part of you knew it had to be from Mattheo, the sheer magnificence of the gift made it feel almost surreal.

After what felt like an eternity lost in the mirror, admiring the stunning mask, the realization hit that you needed to meet Theodore. He'd mentioned waiting for you at the entrance to your common room, so as swiftly as possible, you adjusted your dress, attempting to cover up your chest, and gracefully slipped out of your room, navigating the familiar halls with a sense of purpose.

The chilled corridor welcomed you as you emerged, and after a brief moment of searching, there, like an awakening spell, you spotted Theo--and your stomach nearly leapt into your chest at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, Nott...are you...are you actually wearing enemy colors?" Your jaw dropped as you beheld Theodore in a Ravenclaw blue suit, a sight you'd never expected in a million years. "Hold still, I need to take a bloody picture of this."

Theo's arrogant response came with a sly smirk, his dark eyes tracing hungrily over your figure. He stood before you in a pristine suit, accompanied by matching vest, and a crisp white dress shirt underneath. The ensemble was adorned with exquisite gold links and buttons, showcasing his impeccable taste. His confident demeanour suggested that he indeed cleaned up more than nicely, and this was only a slight indication of his professionalism.

"Sure, have your laughs," he quipped, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His eyes moved deliberately, scanning the curves of your figure. "Enjoy the view while it lasts, little bird. This suit's debut is a one-time thing—I might just set it ablaze once the night is over."

"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?..." you teased, grin stretching past your ears as you took another step closer. "How honoured I am to accompany you in this suits first and only outing."

"Your wit is far too sharp for a Ravenclaw," Theo huffed in amusement, his stormy eyes glistening behind his dark blue mask. "You look properly fucking flaming by the way...do pardon my French."

You snorted, gracefully taking his arm as he offered it, intertwining yours around his. "French? I was under the impression you were Italian, Signor Nott."

"You speak it?" Theo raised an intrigued eyebrow, briefly glancing down at you as the two of you strolled towards the ballroom.

"Partially," you replied, a playful glint in your eye, your attention split between the conversation and the challenge of navigating gracefully in your black heels. Each step resonated with a confident clack on the school floors. "I dabble in a multitude of tongues...a side effect of an inquisitive mind."

"Is that so?" he said, pure intrigue in his tone. "Talk to me in Italian then,"

"Are you serious?" You snorted, far louder than you'd intended, waiting for him to say he was joking. He simply looked down at you, eyes locked on yours behind the mysterious mask.

"Absolutely serious," Theo chuckled, the breathy tones dancing in the air, a subtle spark of challenge in his eyes. "A little ball of knowledge, huh? Prove it."

A warm flush crept up your cheeks as you stifled your laughter. Theo had a charm of his own, a natural way of drawing people in much like Mattheo, although the troublemaking wizard had a slightly more breathtaking allure with those dark, intoxicating eyes and that unruly mop of chocolate curls. It wasn't a shortcoming on Theo's part--it was simply the irreplaceable magnetism that Mattheo possessed, but you couldn't deny the way Nott was making you feel.

"Alright, you want me to put my money where my mouth is, I respect that." You teased, clearing your throat as you pondered an Italian phrase that might leave an impression. After a brief moment of contemplation, it dawned on you. "Non c'è rosa senza spine."

(There is no rose without thorns.)

"Buona scelta," he replied with a smirk, his tone holding an air of both appreciation and subtle challenge. "Sei più astuta di quanto pensassi."

(Good choice; you’re more clever than I thought.)

"You underestimate me, Nott," you chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through you. "Consider that your first mistake."

"You know, the more I get to know you, the larger my desire to figure you out becomes,” he said, dropping his tone into a husky whisper as the two of you turned a corner. "You are...intriguing."

It was at this moment, as the two of you entered into the bustling main hall, that you were extremely thankful this event was a masquerade. The mask provided a welcome veil of anonymity, shielding you from the prying gazes that threatened to make you uneasy. It seemed you were blending seamlessly into Theo's arm, a part of the enigmatic allure rather than a subject of scrutiny.

"You couldn't figure me out in a million years," you retorted, a sharp edge to your tone, the corners of your lips subtly playing with a hint of a smirk. "Better men have tried."

Theo, as expected, didn't like that response. "Don't tempt me, little bird...I will make it my life's mission."

You rolled your eyes, chewing on your cheek. "You're far too sure of yourself, Theodore."

"Look at that, Bella...you're already using my first name," he quipped, smirking. "I'm making progress without even trying."

You fought the urge to smack him, your eyes narrowing in a playful challenge. "To know me, Signor Nott, I'll put you through hell...just ask Riddle, he can certainly attest."

"Mm, thats precisely the thing, little bird..." he said, his smirk holding a touch of intrigue. "Riddle's a closed book when it comes to you. Doesn't spill a damn thing, makes me wonder what secrets the two of you are hiding.”

"Quite a conspiracy, I'd say," you chuckled, relishing the light banter between you two as the distant sounds of music and laughter from the ballroom grew louder. With a nod and a playful smile, you gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

Theo nodded, a playful glint in his eyes, as he released your arm and extended a hand to the small of your back, ushering you forward. "After you, milady"

Upon crossing the threshold into the ballroom, a breathtaking scene unfolded before your eyes. The room was adorned with vibrant spring decorations, an enchanting celebration marking the approaching end of the term. The fragrance of fresh flowers wafted through the air, and the soft glow of enchanted lanterns bathed the room in a warm, golden radiance. Hogwarts students from all years, dressed in their finest attire, wore a dazzling array of masks, each one a unique work of art.

As your eyes darted around the room, the search for familiar faces led you to a moment of anticipation. The diversity of masks, ranging from intricate designs to whimsical shapes, made it challenging to discern familiar faces.

Finally, your gaze landed on the only man you'd ever go out of your way to search for, his distinctive chocolate curls drawing your attention like a magnet amidst the sea of masked enchantment. The mere fucking sight of him, cloaked in newfound sophistication, sent a thrilling pulse through your veins, awakening sensations in your body that you were unprepared to face.

He stood there, like a fucking silhouette of elegance, adorned entirely in black--black mask, black suit pants, a sleek black dress shirt, and a finely tailored black suit vest. The only splash of colour adorned him in the form of a satin red tie, perfectly mirroring the shade of your dress. The entirety of your being froze in place, your throat resembling a parched desert, the sole reminder to keep moving coming from the steady pressure of Theo's hand on your back, coaxing you forward through the enchanting crowd.

As the two of you veered closer to them, the tension in your body was almost painful. Truth be told, it wasn't the singular presence of Mattheo that set your heart racing like a high-performance sports car on race day--oh, no, the true accelerant was his fucking date. The very girl from the washroom, the one you had directed him to accompany, and the vibrant colour of her long, flowing dress:

Yellow.

"Riddle, Malfoy," Theo uttered, initiating a firm handshake with each of his Slytherin comrades as they exchanged greetings. "Parkinson, Lanalock."

"Nott," Parkinson remarked, a smile gracing her features. "Never expected to see you in blue. You could easily pass for a Ravenclaw, you know."

Theo's response carried a touch of cunning arrogance, sneaking you a glance. "A choice made with utmost consideration, you might say."

In the midst of the social dance, your gaze and Mattheo's remained locked, an unbroken connection that felt more like a silent conversation than a mere exchange of glances. The unspoken tension between you two hung thick, and in that charged moment, it was uncertain if either of you had even blinked. Your heart pounded not only in your throat but also seemingly echoed in another, more intimate part of you as well.

Mattheo had never looked more fucking captivating, and the longing for him intensified by the millions--that merciless irresistible force effortlessly working to pull you closer.

Just as the tension threatened to become all-encompassing, Professor Dumbledore's voice reverberated over the lively chatter, his warm tone weaving through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the enchanting Spring Masquerade. I hope the magic of the night unfolds to your desires. Now, if you would kindly make your way to the dance floor, we are about to commence the first slow dance of the evening. So, let the celebration begin."

The resonance of Dumbledore's voice snapped you from Mattheo's visual captivity, prompting a few deliberate blinks and an expelled breath laden with tension. Theo, with a gentle glance, took your hand, guiding the group to choose spots on the dance floor directly adjacent to one another. It required every fiber of your being not to steal a glance at Mattheo, aware that the mere sight of him holding another girl would induce a wave of nausea within you.

Your attention became an exclusive affair with Theo. As he placed his hands on your hips, his grip was tender, a sensation entirely distinct from anything you'd experienced with Mattheo. A sharp intake of breath accompanied the elevation of your arms, led your palms to find a gentle perch on Theo's shoulders. In the depths of his stormy blue eyes, you unintentionally delved, oblivious to the intensity of the eye contact you established--you were so lost in your own thoughts that a bomb could go off in this very room, and you were certain you wouldn't even flinch.

Then, Theo's voice broke the silence. "Little bird, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes," you blinked, your voice escaping your throat in a cracked whisper, as though each word were a struggle for breath. "And you?"

"More than," he quipped, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your watchful eyes tracked the journey of his gaze, starting from your eyes, sliding leisurely to your lips, lingering provocatively before venturing lower, dipping over your chest with a seductive grace before sinuously slithering back up. The subtle intimacy of the visual exploration ignited a warmth within you, and you glimpsed his lips, recalling Emily's advice from your dorm. Make these men squirm.

"Glad to hear it," you mused, a playful edge to your tone, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as he delicately drew you closer. "Wouldn't want the Italian playboy to be anything other than alright."

His grip tightened perceptibly, the sensation almost tangible as if his nails could breach the delicate fabric of your dress. The room plunged into a soft dimness, signaling the beginning of the slow dance. The shift in atmosphere was unexpected, enough to make you jump slightly. For a fleeting moment, you locked eyes with Mattheo, finding his gaze fixed on you, his hands scarcely making contact with his date.

Hastily looking away, Theo's voice reached your ear, dangerously close, "Italian playboy, hmm? Is that what they're calling me these days?"

"Don't act like you weren't already aware," you chuckled softly, the resonance carrying a hint of mischief. "Though, I must say, the rumors might be onto something."

Theo smirked, his voice a low murmur tinged with arrogance. "Well, uccellino, despite the rumors, I assure you I am a proper gentleman..."

A sharp intake of breath caught in your throat as his nails dug deeper into the fabric of your dress, compelling you closer as the two of you gracefully swayed to the music.

"How gentle you are, indeed," you mumbled, chewing your lip as you met his gaze, the two of you dangerously close together.

Theo's gaze deepened, his lean frame bending down as his lips brushed against your ear. "I may be a gentleman, Bella," he murmured, the words a seductive whisper. "...but if you keep looking at me like that--with those big eyes, biting on your goddamn lip...we might just be fucking on the nearest surface I find."

Oh, no. This was bad. Your response stammered out before you could even think to stop it, panic flickering in your eyes.

"I-I, excuse me," you stuttered, hastily breaking away from the dance just as the song was nearing its end. The abrupt departure carried a mix of flustered embarrassment and a desperate need to collect yourself.

Seeking refuge, you maneuvered toward the drink table nestled in the far corner of the room. The dim light and distant chatter provided a momentary escape as you began to slam back drinks, attempting to drown the intensity of the encounter with Theo.

As the remnants of a calm facade settled within, a subtle shift in the atmosphere stirred your senses. A tingling awareness compelled you to glance over your shoulder, only to find yourself ensnared in the dark, intoxicating depths of Mattheo's eyes. A strange yet undeniable wave of relief washed over you, despite the fact that he stood looming directly behind, adopting the guise of casualness while pretending to grab a drink.

"Mattheo," you breathed his name, the syllables escaping your lips like a breathless sin, a recognition of the forbidden allure that surrounded him. "What are you doing?"

Mattheo's breath, a tantalizing whisper, brushed against the nape of your neck, setting your nerves ablaze. "I can't stand the way he's touching you, Raven...I can't even stand the way he's fucking looking at you..."

Your lungs seemed to stall. "This was your idea, Matty..."

"I'm well aware," he hissed, the energy radiating from him palpable in the charged air. "Fuck, you look so fucking sexy...you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm not sure I do..." your heart melted, a subtle heat pulsating through your thighs. "I think I need you to tell me again."

"You are so, so fucking beautiful..." he muttered, his voice a deep husk, strained with lust as it left his throat. "You are the most captivating girl in this entire fucking room...I can't stop staring at you...I can't stop needing you..." you gasped as his hand grazed over your ass, subtly, but a feeling you'd never miss. "What do you think you're fucking doing to me, hm?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip, the flush of blood coloring your face. "At this moment...nowhere bloody close to enough."

Mattheo's voice, saturated with desire, responded, "You're absolutely right, princess...and I can't wait to have you all to myself, as soon as this dumb fucking dance is over."

A soft hum escaped you as your lids fluttered, reveling in the warmth of Mattheo's body behind you. "Unless Nott gets to me first..."

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo's hand seized your wrist with a subtle yet undeniable warning, a silent caution against uttering anything remotely similar again.

"Don't even joke about that, Raven," he growled, the intensity in his voice cutting through the air. "I swear to Salazar himself, what I did to Berkshire will pale in comparison to what I'll do to Nott."

"So jealous, Matty..." you purred, smirking as he slowly released your wrist. You couldn't deny that his possessive tendencies did something to you, however fucking insane they were. "So angry..."

"You like that, don't you?...dirty little slut..." you could practically hear the smirk on his perfect fucking lips, your entire body vibrating with need. "Keep tempting me, princess...I'll bend you over this table, fuck you in front of the whole fucking school...I'll point my gun at Notts fucking head and make him watch, on his knees in front of you as I fuck you stupid...how does that sound for jealous, hm?"

Breath eluded you, the sheer intensity threatening your consciousness. "Godric, help you..."

"Sorry, Raven, but the only help from above that I believe in is a sniper on a rooftop..." Mattheo's voice, a deep, honeyed drawl, slipped from his lips. "And just so you're aware, I know eighty different ways to kill a man--and I can make an easy seventy nine of them look like a bloody accident...understand?"

"Fuck..." your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. It had been days since his last touch, and the way he spoke now made you crave him more than the very air you breathed. "I don't think I do...I think I need you to tell me again..."

"I've never been a jealous man, Raven..." Mattheo's gaze swept the surroundings, ensuring no lingering gazes were watching. Satisfied, he shifted slightly, his lips now at your other ear. "I've never envied someone for what they have or who they're with, and yet, I'm damn jealous of every asshole you smile at, everyone you openly converse with...I've never fucking wanted something that I couldn't have, a girl I couldn't get...so this, all of this...is fucking maddening."

Your lungs seemed to stall, a momentary freeze as if he'd submerged you into the heart of a raging inferno. A surge of warmth flooded through every fiber of your being, an intoxicating heat.

"I need you," your voice murmured, the words dripping with a desperate longing. "I need you in every fucking way imaginable..."

"Mm," Mattheo hummed, the warmth of his touch tracing the curve of your hip. "Such a delightfully dirty mouth for a princess..."

Feigning innocence, you lifted your gaze to meet his, a coy smile gracing your lips. "Perhaps...but even princesses have their secret pleasures, don't they, Matty?"

For a moment--a fleeting, beautiful fucking moment--your eyes locked, and it was in that secret realm, where slight smirks played on each of your lips, and the tension was fucking so thick that you could hardly breathe--where you both knew you've found what the whole fucking world was still carelessly searching for.

And it was there, that you knew--no man, no job, no fucking career could ever make you feel as happy and needed and treasured as Mattheo Riddle did. In his own, crazy, fucked up way.

Mattheo blinked. "Meet me in the washroom in forty minutes.”

—————————

Chapter 26->

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Asahi Azumane NSFW Profile

Yandere! Asahi Azumane x fem! reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, light somnophilia, masturbation, panty sniffing, breeding, lactation kink, mentions of pegging, Asahi wears lingerie, size kink but remember that Asahi is very large and it's written with the idea that everyone is smaller than Asahi, one very, very brief mention of reading not eating enough, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Before having you in his life, sex was something Asahi wasn’t super comfortable with. Despite coming more out of his shell with the passing years, he’s never truly shaken off his shyness, and so the prospect of casual sex is absolutely not something he’s interested in.

He’s had a girlfriend or two and is thus not a stranger to women’s bodies, but he’s found that he’s simply just not that sexual of a man. Sex just wasn’t important to think about – he gets easily flustered even as a fully grown adult, and while he can handle mature conversations about intimacy, just the thought of being so lewd and bending someone over to have his way with them gets his ears turning red, his knees buckling and his words coming out all slurred and distorted because he can’t think clearly.

It’s embarrassing, if he’s being honest, and so he finds himself simply avoiding sex and, in turn, partners. And this extended into his personal sex life and habits as well – he’s not the most regular in terms of touching himself, preferring to just let the bout of horniness or the occasional incessant boner pass on its own.

He’ll do it occasionally to relieve tension and because he enjoyed how it feels, but it’d only happen a few times a month, if only because the embarrassment was difficult to overlook. After all, how lonely is it to look down and see his own hand wrapped around his cock? Familiar fingers gripping his red, swollen length in the comfort of his own room, the lame background music he’d put on to feel better doing absolutely nothing.

The reality is that Asahi is actually quite lonely before you step into his life – he's not quite smooth and suave enough to be successful with women or even be willing to put himself out there, and the realization that the only way for him to get some sort of sexual relief is via himself makes him too sad to indulge often.

And even once you step into his life, this is still true – except now there’s the addition feeling of yearning, wishing so strongly that it’s your fingers instead of his own (or perhaps your mouth, your breasts, or – god forbid – your pussy) that touching himself becomes even more of an emotional struggle.

And as time passes, Asahi sticks to his typical pattern of seldomly masturbating – but then his feelings grow deeper, his infatuation with you festering more and more, his thoughts about you delicately toeing the line between sweet and only slightly disturbing to downright depraved.

After all, how can he not imagine fucking you in every position he’s ever seen?

How can he not imagine the sight of you perched in his lap, pretty body bare for him to ogle while you scoop your hips up and down, moaning his name and guiding your lips to latch onto a bouncing nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him like a fucking vice?

The embarrassment is still there, of course, as is the shame and loneliness, but his feelings for you are just too strong to ignore, his desperation too insistent to quell. And with every gasping, toe-curling orgasm that wracks his body, Asahi comes closer and closer to deciding that he needs you, that just his hand or his pillow aren’t enough to satisfy him.

No, he needs you – your touch, your body, your pretty, tight, warm walls sucking him in so hard that you never let him go.

As the frequency with which he gets off increases, Asahi finds that he has a particular system for how he pleasures himself - and it involves a secret that he is not proud of.

He’s not especially proud of the fact that he relies exclusively on the (now a bit ragged) pair of panties you’d accidentally left at his apartment in order to get off, but it’s too late to change now. You’d had a rather serious dental procedure, and had turned to Asahi to request that you stay the night at his place to minimize your driving and responsibilities while the anesthesia wore off.

Asahi had of course jumped at the chance, ending the phone call with shaking fingers, a blush covering every inch of his face, and his heart practically beating out of his chest at the prospect of sharing a roof with you for a night just like couples do. And he’d been attentive to your every need; cooking you a warm soup, getting the best sheets he had and letting you sleep in his bed rather than the couch.

(Of course, he still hasn’t washed those sheets after you’d slept in them – if he tries hard enough to thinks he can smell you in the fabric, occasionally finding strands of your hair by his pillow and letting each one sit on the tip of his tongue for just a moment, savoring the taste of you.)

You’d forgotten a pair of underwear in your overnight bag, and while Asahi had meant to tell you, curiosity got the better of him and before he knew it he was picking them up, swallowing thickly, and thumbing at the double-layered section that rubs right up against your folds. It was all too easy to imagine how you must look in them – the mental image of you making a shiver erupt down his spine, needing to lean on his desk for support.

He felt a bit guilty for not returning them, but he couldn’t help it - they were so utterly you, your favorite color and a style he just knows would frame your cute little ass perfectly, your plush thighs and creamy skin sitting on display and practically begging to be kneaded, squeezed at, marked up and bruised with hickeys.

And that night, as he lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of your face and how he’d quite literally give up his own life just to kiss you once, just to feel your lips pressed snugly against his own, slowly the more risqué thoughts are drifting into his mind.

What would it feel like to have you kiss other parts of his body? How would you taste if he kissed your collarbone, gently suckled on a nipple, licked a long stripe up the puffy lips of your cunt?

How would you react if he were to teasingly kitten lick at your clit, or if he whispered a heated, honest I love you into your ear as he pushed deep inside of you and filled you to fucking brim with his cum?

His mind slowly drifts to more lewd areas, his body growing hot as he imagines you riding him like your life depended on it, bouncing up and down and making your entire body jiggle, your tits bouncing in his face and your voice thin and gasping as you tell him that it’s too much, I can’t Asahi, please, need you to fuck me now…

And soon, he’s deciding that he can’t just ignore the stroke of luck he’d gotten that day, that he’d somehow managed to come by a pair of your panties, something he’s only been able to dream about. And as he locks his door and dims the lights a bit, he’s snatching the pair of panties he’d neatly folded and placed on top of his dresser.

Immediately, he notices the slight fresh stain against the crotch, and his eyes go wide - you had already worn them? They’d already touched the slick, warm place between your legs, the place that gets Asahi salivating and bright red with just a mere thought?

With shaking hands, he timidly brings the cloth up to his nose, inhaling and moaning aloud as the smell he can only describe as you clouds his senses. They’re pungent, proof that you must have had a long day with them adorning your pretty body, and immediately his cock is standing at attention, his tip flushed and oozing precum in copious amounts, his balls occasionally twitching in desperation, practically begging to be touched. He lays the panties down against his face, tilting his head back slightly so that the cloth stays against his nostrils, the smell of you filling every breath his takes.

He gulps, wrapping his fingers around himself, hissing slightly at the pressure and letting his eyes drift closed. He gently squeezes, bringing his hand up to the tip, using his thumb to swirl around his slit for a moment as he brings the material once more up to inhale again.

He groans, the pleasure sending shivers down his spine, and before he knows it his fist is pounding down against his pelvis, long strokes against his rock hard cock as he grunts and lowly moans your name, airy breaths of oh – oh you’re so pretty, I love you – hah, love that pretty pussy of yours.

The pace is purposefully slow, his movements still a bit timid because he’s worried he’ll come too fast, that he’s too pent up, that the smell of you will send him over the edge way too soon.

He doesn’t want this moment to end – the pleasure, the exploration, the feeling of having you the closest he’s ever had. He continues to sniff and whine, absolutely amazed at the wonderful, musky scent of you, fantasies running through his mind about the way you’d react to him touching you, to him sinking his cock inside of you again and again and turning you into a trembling, incoherent mess all for him.

He can’t help himself from imagining what you’d smell like when you’re finally in front of him, a groan slipping from his lips as he imagines the way you’d feel perched on his face, your thighs caging in his head and your fingers raking through his hair as he slurps and sucks and moans against you, desperation lacing his movements because god he wants to make you come.

He can’t help but imagine you taking every inch of him inside that warm little pussy of yours, sucking him in and gripping onto his swollen length so tightly he’s sure you must never want to let go. And his eyes flutter close his lips part slightly, drool pooling in his mouth as he loses himself in the pleasure, the feeling of his hand so much better than normal now that he has something to smell, something that’s so clearly you rather than just his thoughts. His hand picks up a bit, and as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, panties still draped over his face when he stops short, eyes flying open as his hips buck wildly.

Tentatively he sticks his tongue out once more, rolling it against the crotch of your panties. Immediately his eyes are flying open and he’s whining your name, hips bucking up as he runs his tongue along the fabric once more, relishing the taste of you against his tongue.

Curses and whimpers of your name along with yes, o-oh yes yes yes, god feels so – so good fly out of his mouth. Suddenly a particularly hard clench of his abs makes him gasp, the words slurred and nearly incoherent as he moans out ‘m gonna – I can’t hold it in, a-ah oh god ‘m-!

His whole body tenses, every breath he takes smelling like you you you as warm cum spurts up and onto his chest, the t-shirt he’s wearing utterly destroyed as it just keeps coming, rope after rope. He’s moaning your name, eyes squeezed shut as he loses himself in your taste, imagining he’s buried as deeply in you as possible, stuffing you full of his cock that he’s all you can feel, all you can see and hear and taste and think of.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once his breathing is steady once more he’s staring at his ceiling, in shock of how good it felt to have your scent and taste, to make it seem just a bit more realistic. He’s careful with your panties as he delicately picks them up off of his face, chest still heaving with the residual pleasure of his orgasm, dutifully and carefully folding up the cloth.

After much debate he ends up slotting the panties neatly under his pillow, swallowing heavily and practically giddy with the knowledge that he’ll be sleeping so close to something of yours, his face mere inches away from you, basically.

And that night, as he lays in bed, he’s breathing in hard, hoping to get even the slightest whiff of you from below his pillow, sleep eventually lulling him into dreaming about you laying in his arms, his cum still leaking out of you.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your hands

Asahi’s always found himself drawn to your hands. Perhaps because his job requires so much of his hands between sewing, measuring, tailoring, and everything else, or perhaps because he’s simply attracted to them.

Regardless, Asahi quickly discovers that every time he’s with you, he’s always aching to reach out and intertwine his fingers with yours, to feel your palm pressed against his own.

And really, they’re just so small compared to his own rough, calloused hands – so soft and delicate, something he can stare at for hours without growing tired.

He’ll trace every line, every mole and mark, memorizing each and every detail because it all just feels so important. He doesn’t care whether your fingers are long and dainty, shorter and wider, veiny and pale, anything and everything is pure perfection to Asahi, and he’ll be worshipping your hands no matter what condition they’re in.

Even in the early stages of his obsession with you, he’s always been interested in them – the way you idly crack your knuckles, how you mindlessly tap random rhythms against your desk when you’re bored or waiting for something, how you run your fingers over your hair when you’re focusing.

He has a tendency to stare, and while he thinks that you don’t catch him often (you d0, but based upon the fire engine blush on his cheeks and the way his eyes immediately dart away, you figure it’d be kinder to not confront him about it), he’s been fascinated since day one with how they could possibly feel, how soft your fingers would be, the exact lines on your palms, whether they get clammy easily or not.

And once your relationship moves to the point of any sort of affection, Asahi’s preference for your hands will quickly become apparent – he’s trying to hold them at any chance he can get, intertwining his fingers with your own, bringing them up to kiss each knuckle individually, listing off a thing he loves about you for each.

He loves the way they feel against his own calloused palms, how your fingers are so much shorter than his own, how when you hold your palm up against his, you barely reach his last knuckles.

It only furthers his perception of you being so in need of protection, and he loves to feel those hands against him, touching him. He loves the sight of your fingers wrapped around his thick cock, barely able to wrap fully around, such a stark contrast to the hard, pulsing, veiny expanse of his length. He loves the friction as you thrust your hand up and down, biting his lip and knitting his brows together because even though it’s just a simple handjob it feels so much better when it’s your hands and fingers wrapped around him.

He loves how they feel against him when you’re touching him, running them along his front and down below his v line, how it sends shivers down his spine just to have you ghost a fingertip against his sensitive skin.

He likes holding your hand while he fucks you, keeping his grip on you firm as his hips steadily thrust into you, the pleasure slowly mounting. His fingers clench onto your own progressively tighter, until they nearly crush yours as he stares down at you with wide eyes, his lips falling open into a desperate moan of I – coming! while he buries his face in your neck, filling you with spurt after spurt of cum.

He loves the way you scratch his down his back as he hovers over you, the pleasure and pain mixing together while he focuses on holding off his orgasm for as long as possible, not wanting to end the feeling of being inside of you, not wanting to end the way you’re clutching onto him and moaning for him, begging for him and telling him that he feels so good Asahi ‘m gonna come-!

Asahi loves your hands, and at any given time he’ll be touching them in some capacity - whether it be holding your hand, resting his cheeks against your palm or sucking at your fingers while you toy with him and make tears well up in those pretty eyes of his.

He just loves them. 

His hair

He’s long harbored fantasies of you playing with his hair, to feel you giving it attention and mindlessly running your fingers through it.

He’s absolutely convinced that it would be the most comfortable, wonderful thing in the world, that it would be the single most amazing experience he’ll ever have, to have your attention solely focused on him, you touching him, maybe even telling him how lovely his hair is, how you’re jealous of how soft and smooth and pretty it is…

Just the thought of you complimenting his hair is enough to have him wildly blushing, his dark eyes staring at the floor in embarrassment and bashfulness, secretly yearning for you to tell him more, to compliment him again and again until he faints from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

(And, though he’d never tell you, to his cock, too.)

And once you’re trapped with him in your new shared ‘home’, Asahi is still harboring the fantasy, even more so than before – and yet, he will never ask for it, never request for you to play with it, to run your nails against his scalp and gently tug on the roots.

He wont’ ask, if only because it feels wrong to request anything of you after he’s kidnapped you, when you’re so obviously still afraid of him.

So he waits in silence, praying for the day when you mindlessly start playing with his hair – he’ll always position himself so that his hair is accessible if the desire overtakes you, a small flame of hope igniting in him chest and extinguishing out every time you move and don’t come any closer to his head.

(He goes to bed on those nights with a heavy heart, his own tangling into his hair and tugging, your name slipping past his lips.)

But Asahi is a patient man, and once you do start absentmindedly playing with his hair, Asahi is beyond pleased to know that you don’t stop. You seem to grow an affinity for running your fingers through it, for braiding it, styling it, really doing anything at all.

He knows that you enjoy his hair – it becomes his favorite thing in the world to feel you play with it, and he spends hours with you sitting behind him with his head leaning back between your knees, his body starting out stiff because holy shit, he’s so close to you, but eventually relaxing, even falling into a slumber because the feeling is just so calming. He wants you to braid it, mess with it, do anything your heart desires with it because he loves the attention and the relaxing feeling it brings.

But of course, he also loves his locks for other, less wholesome reasons - the way you tug at it when he’s got his face buried between your legs, for example, and how your grip tightens against his scalp as you get closer and closer to release.

Sometimes you synch your cries with the tugs, something that Asahi is sure you’re unaware of, but he can’t help the way he forces himself to work harder, to focus more in order to get you off, in order make you have the most Earth shattering orgasm, the best feeling you’ve ever experienced, and with each hair tug he only becomes more determined.

He loves the way you get rough with it, the slight tinge of pain that accompanies it, and it never fails to make him groan, to sigh out your name against your cunt.

(Sometimes, when he’s in the mood but you physically aren’t in a position to touch his hair, he’ll reach up and tug at the strands himself, imagining your fingers instead of his own. It gets him whimpering, desperation for you so thick that he can nearly taste it, but Asahi just can’t help it. It’s an obsession in and of its own right, and he can’t deny how much he loves it.)

DRIVE:

Asahi’s drive is really quite average – he’s not an incessantly horny man by any means, and while he does have the occasional passing fantasy or wet dream, he’d never categorize himself as a hormone-driven man. He doesn’t watch porn, doesn’t follow any social media influencers whose content borders on the edge of distasteful, and he sometimes even fastforwards through sex scenes in movies simply because he finds it uncomfortable to watch two people having sex – even if it’s fake.

And so Asahi finds himself mostly avoiding intimacy on that level, though it’s not entirely on purpose. He’s by no means a saint, though; he’s still human, and when he sees a woman with particularly large breasts or perfectly manicured fingers there’s always the fleeting thought of what if, the fantasies clawing in the back of his mind of how he’d love to latch onto a nipple and suck, to imagine how much better those fingers would look wrapped around his cock or cupping at his balls.

He rarely touches himself, sure, but he’s not a stranger to sex, his limited experience still experience nonetheless.

And so while it’s very, very easy to fluster or rile him up,  he generally isn’t hard and desperate to fuck you at all times. He values you for much more than just your pussy – you’re his dream woman, the person he views as his life-long partner, the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and share every last breath. He’s content to just hold you, to press a soft kiss against your temple and whisper a little confession of love rather than pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying.

(Of course, he won’t say no if you were to beg him to touch you, his face only turning red and his voice cracking a bit as he rushes out a quick yes! Um, yes of course, I’ll uh, be right back… and then leaving the room to take a few deep breaths and whisper to himself that it will be fine, she wants you, you’ll do well, don’t overthink it.)

Asahi is very dependent on what you want, always concerned about your opinion and vote and desires, and so while there are times that those wild hormones do in fact take over and his body starts begging him to slip down that cute pair of panties he bought for you and sit you directly on his cock, to bounce you up and down and use you like some life sized sex toy, watching as your breasts jiggle and your face contorts up into that sexy, perfect little ‘o’, Asahi won’t until you make the move to do so.

(It’s out of respect and lucidity for your consent and state of mind. He already feels guilty enough from having stalked you and stolen you away to live in his modest apartment with him, and forcing himself onto you is absolutely the last thing he wants to do.)

He’s not constantly horny, but it doesn’t take too much to rile him up. A few suggestive words and lingering touches can have him needy and eager to touch and please you in mere seconds – casually tell him over dinner that you feel so empty, Asahi, won’t you come fill me up and watch the way his entire body stiffens, brown eyes meeting your gaze and immediately looking at the table in embarrassment, his face flushed a bright red and his knee bouncing under the table as he mutters out a are – are you sure? I don’t want to leave you hungry – not that you haven’t eaten enough! That’s not what I’m saying, I just – um, I uh… Do you really want that?

(His voice gets a bit vulnerable at the end there, his tone higher and his eyes daring to meet yours again, his mousy brown hair falling around his jaw like a halo.)

Leave a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, biting your lip and making a show of raking your gaze up and down his body and you’ll see the way he gulps, the sound audible as he shudders a breath, his pants already growing tight and nudging against you.

(You can actually feel the warmth of him through his jeans when he does this – cock warm and ready and throbbing.)

For him, your pleasure is the number one priority, and as such it’s his duty to prioritize what you want when you want it, rather than his own desires. You should be in charge, should be the one calling the shots and telling him that you’re okay with him fucking you like he so desperately wants. You should be the one to tell him that it’s okay each time he nervously and compulsively asks you if it’s okay for him to kiss you or touch your waist or unclasp your bra or moan your name or come -

And even once you’re both naked and touching one another, he views his own orgasms as a background to yours. He mostly just wants you to feel good, and he’s pretty much at your beck and call for whenever you’d like to feel the euphoric high that only an orgasm can bring you, in whatever way you’d like him to get you there. He’s game to finger you, to eat you out, to fuck your cute little pussy that makes him moan and whine every time, even your ass if you bring it up.

Asahi never fails to deliver, and he’ll never, ever complain. He loves to touch you and get you moaning, even if he’s a bit shy and flustered the whole time. It makes him so, so happy to know that he’s the one touching you, that he’s the one making you feel so good and satisfied.

But before you begin feeling any desire to be with him in an intimate setting, Asahi still has urges. He still very, very badly wants to touch you and feel you against his skin, to trace out the map of your body and chart every mole, hair, blemish and roll.

You’re just so fucking perfect to him, and he can’t help but desire you physically when he sees the way your breasts bounce as you try to reach the top shelf in the kitchen (he’s more than happy to come to your rescue and grab the jar off the top shelf, secretly smitten with himself because he’d put it there with the hopes of creating this moment).

He can’t help but want to taste your saliva when he sees you sweating on a particularly hot day, the bead rolling down your temple and following the curve of your cheekbones, his tongue coming out to lick a long stripe along his lips because fuck, he bets you taste sweet.

These urges are still present and strong, but because of his commitment to not force you into anything, Asahi finds that he has to satisfy himself in other ways. That is, it doesn’t necessarily feel good to sneak into the extra bedroom he’d transformed into your personal room, but as soon as he catches a whiff of your scent and sees your sleeping, relaxed form on the mattress, his mouth goes dry and he’s shuffling forward before he even realizes it.

You’re sprawled out on the mattress he’d bought especially for you, the soft t-shirt and short set he'd gotten you sitting haphazardly on your hips and riding up to expose a bit of your stomach. It makes him gulp, his eyebrows drawing in a bit as he slowly, carefully, sits down onto the empty space beside you on the bed.

He can’t stop staring at you – you’re so pretty, and as your lips part slightly and you breath, he can’t help but whimper slightly – he can only imagine how it would feel to kiss you, to feel your lips against his own and feel your tongue brush against his.

Would you bite his lip, tease him with a bit of pain before kissing him harder, pushing your tongue inside and moaning into his mouth because it just feels too good? He hopes so, and it’s not long before he’s imagining all of the other things that mouth of yours could do – he’s sure your kisses would feel like heaven against his chest, lips wrapped around a nipple and sucking lightly, tongue flattening out to run over the pebbled skin again and again and making him shiver.

He’s sure that your lips would feel even better lower, pressed against the juncture of his hip and thigh, moving up and to the side, slowly – so fucking slowly – moving towards where he really needs you, where he’s pulsing and throbbing and leaking so much precum that it almost looks like he’s already reached his high.

He closes his eyes briefly as he imagines the way you’d suckle on his tip, your pretty lips puckered and those eyes of yours staring up at him from between his knees, how you’d pull back to press small kisses and kitten licks against his sensitive skin.

The thought has him groaning lightly, a hand coming down to carefully push his boxers down just a hair, just enough to let his cock spring free, slapping heavily against his lower stomach as he bites his lip. He makes sure to settle the waistband just below his balls, a hand idly moving to grope and squeeze as he continues to stare at you. It feels wrong to be touching himself while so close to you, while you’re totally unaware, but he just can’t help it – he’d been furiously pounding away moments ago in his own bed, eyes squeezed shut and flashes of you playing through his mind, but the knowledge eats at him that you’re only a wall away, your pretty body ripe to ogle and fantasize about and right fucking there…

Guilt weighs heavily in the back of his mind, but as he wraps his fist around his base and slowly pulls up, the heaving breath he lets out has the shame creeping to the back of his mind. It’s so much better with you in his sight – he watches the rise and fall of your chest, your breaths and soft and light, matching the pace of his fist with it.

His toes curl and his lip catches between his teeth, the dull, teasing pleasure from such a slow pace making his head tilt back. He stays like this for what feels like hours – his eyes never moving from your sleeping form, his pace matched to your breathing, just simply breathing in deeply and letting his eyes flutter closed as he exhales, the scent of you you you filling his lungs and making him feel dizzy.

Some forty minutes later, Asahi’s breath is hitching, little whimpers and bitten back moans filling the otherwise quiet air, his fist slowly speeding up out of his control, his orgasm slowly building and mounting, his cock so sensitive and hard and wet –

He comes with a strangled, too-loud I love you, his eyes struggling to stay open as he strokes his way through it, his hips bucking up into his fist and cum landing in ropes along his fingers and wrist. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, he’s chanting under his breath, his breathing uneven and labored as he tries his best to be quiet, terrified to wake you up.

You’re still so ethereal in front of him, looking like an angel as he slows his fist to a stop, his entire body trembling at the aftereffects of his orgasm. He swallows heavily, shaking fingers stained with cum reaching out and nearly, barely brushing against the soft skin of your forearm, clenching his teeth tightly at the contact as it sends one last, final push of pleasure through him, a few final beads of cum oozing from his tip and making him whimper your name.

He doesn’t touch you any more than that, scared to wake you up or cross some invisible line of privacy and consent, but thus starts a pattern. He’ll sneak into your room every week or so, spending far too long simply staring at you, moving to every angle imaginable just to see you, to see all of you, all the while furiously pumping his fist, doing his best to bite back every moan because god, what would you say if you saw him?

(He hopes you wouldn’t stop him, that you’d instead berate him for being so dirty, that you’d reach out and stop his wrist, telling him in that lovely, sweet voice of yours to earn it, Asahi, show me that you deserve to come. And god, the fervor and desperation in his movements as he’d lick and suck between your legs is too good to be embarrassing.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

As a general rule, Asahi absolutely crumbles the moment any sort of positive comment towards him falls from your lips. He’s never been the most confident man on the face of the planet, and while time and a successful career have helped mitigate that a bit, he’s still a bit doubtful about himself, always just slightly insecure and unable to believe in himself.

And for the most part he doesn’t mind, but he always, always appreciates your support in the area of his lacking – declrataion of you being happy or grateful or pleased with him leave Asahi’s throat feeling tight and his palms clammy. But specifically, Asahi has little to no confidence in himself in the bedroom – and to hear you say anything even remotely positive about his skills in bed gets him hot under the collar, the desire to please you making his fingers itch and his pants feel much too tight.

His lack of confidence between the sheets stems from the belief that he’s sure that he won’t be able to satisfy you, that his touch and love won’t be enough to get you off, that you’ll end up just using your own fingers because he just wasn’t good enough.

He’s convinced that you’ll grow to prefer your own touches and ministrations over his own, that you’ll simply sigh and roll your eyes when he asks you in that timid voice if you’d sit on his face, if you’d let him play with you, if you could just please let him taste you, he’s been thinking about it all day…

It’s never ending cycle of negative thoughts and assumptions, always absolutely sure that things will go the worst possible way once he becomes intimate with you,  and honestly you’ll quickly pick up on this.

When he’s hovering over you, brown eyes staring wildly down at you, impossibly wide while his mouth opens and closes like a fish, unsure of what to say or do because you’re finally right in front of him, like he’s been dreaming of for months, you’ll notice the way he’s too stiff to move, his every muscle tense and his eyebrows knitted together so tightly that he almost looks like he’s in pain.

(A few soothing words will have him instantly relaxing, though – run your hands up and down his arms, cooing at him that he’s so handsome, that he looks so good over me Asahi, you’re so pretty, and maybe tell him that you’re so excited, you’ve already made me feel so good baby, and you haven’t even touched me yet and you’ll see the way he visibly perks up, embarrassment written across his face but this sort of shy, boyish joy taking over as he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is too sloppy, too needy, too wet, but it’s the push he needs to finally press himself against you, your slick folds against the sensitive underside of his cock making him hiss into the kiss and his arms nearly give out.)

He’s too nervous to try fingering you or eating you out the first time he’s got you naked in front of him, but he also knows that you need prep before you take him, his girth enough to stretch your walls out to a painful degree if you don’t get some aid.  

(Take the initiative and guide his fingers down your body, going slow and making all sorts of keening and sighing noises, until he’s finally pressed up against you. Tell him that his fingers feel good when you’re helping him rub slow circles over your clit. Overdo your hips bucking at the sensation just to give him that extra assurance that he’s doing a good job. Gasp his name as he slips a finger inside and purposefully clench down on him, letting him hear you babble on about how he feels so good and he’s so big and he’s exactly what I’ve been imagining… You’ll see the determined purse of his lips, every ounce of concentration going into making you cry out his name, making you squeal out more praise, getting you to gush on his fingers and tongue and give him what he’s been dreaming of for months – the sight of your pretty body convulsing up in an orgasm, your cunt spasming and clenching down on him like a fucking vice.)

Towards the beginning of your sexual relationship you’ll find that more often than not he’s at a  standstill, something that is more than obvious to you, and in moments like these it’s best if you just tell him what to do. When you take off your bra, breasts bared for him as he unabashedly stares, his lips parted and his eyes wide, guide his hand to squeeze at one, sighing at the sensation and telling him that it feels good baby, you can go a little harder if you want, too.  

When he’s carefully (and almost tentatively) rubbing your back, giving you a massage and doing his best to relieve your back pain without hurting you, moan out his name and tell him right there, god Asahi you’re so good at this. It’ll leave him blushing and squirming, his cock growing hard and suddenly he’s hearing your moans as moans, seeing the pleased expressions on your face as being expressions of pleasure.

You need to follow his every action up with a bit of praise the first few times you fuck – when he slips a finger or two inside, bite your lip and make a show of gasping, telling him that he feels so good, please Asahi, just like that!

When he’s going down on you for the first time, tangle your fingers through his hair and tell him that he’s doing so well, it feels so – so good Asahi, mmm please don’t stop! And when he fucks you for the first time, gasp sharply and moan, tell him that he’s s-s0 big! Stretches me out so good, ngh –

(Asahi has always seemed gentle to you, even after having kidnapped you – tall, sure, but more afraid of his own shadow than anything. But once you moan that out, that gentle man you’re familiar with is gone – you realize just how strong he really is as his hips crash into yours, your cunt stretched and nearly split open with the sheer power and vigor of his thrusts, each one seeming to reach deeper inside of you, coming faster and faster until your moans at all forced, genuine incoherent nonsense slipping from your lips because god, you’ve never been fucked like this before – this fully, this desperately.)

He loves to know that he’s the one making you feel so good, making you cry out and curl your toes. When you say things like ‘so good Asahi’, or ‘yes, just like that’, he’ll become a blushing, flustered mess, but it’ll only drive him even further in his mission to please you, to get you to come.

After all, in his mind, your pleasure is so much more important than his own, and he’ll give you anything and everything he possibly can to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your pussy clamping down around him.

His actions will pick up speed and eagerness, and if you weren’t so fucked out while he’s got his tongue against your clit or his cock stretching you out, you’d be able to practically feel the desperation to get you to orgasm rolling off of him in waves.

He just wants to know that what he’s doing is feeling good, that you’re enjoying him, that you’re loving this wonderful intimate moment as much as he is. He loves your vocalness, and it helps his confidence to hear you so openly praising him and his body.

 So tell him, while he’s hovering over you, his cheeks flushed, his hair falling in waves over his shoulders and a few beads of sweat rolling down his temples, how big he feels inside of you, how you’re sure that nobody could fuck you like Asahi can, and he’ll make the cutest little gasp, before he’s thrusting into you even harder, burying his face into your neck and chanting your name over and over.

He loves it.

Breeding  

But unlike a lot of men, this kink doesn’t stem exclusively from a sense of possessiveness or ownership over you. (Of course, he very much is possessive over you and hates the idea of another man interacting with you, but still.)

Instead, Asahi’s fascination with the concept of breeding you mostly stems from a genuine desire to knock you up. Asahi craves a domestic life with you; the mere idea of being one big, happy family is something that makes his heart melt, that makes him giddy with excitement and an embarrassed flush spread across the bridge of his nose. There’s so many cute, wholesome things that Asahi wants to do with his future children; family pictures, reading to them before bed, dressing them up in his latest fashion designs, making them go eww! when they see Mommy and Daddy kissing…

And when you step into the picture, this natural desire for children only steps up, increasing astronomically because Asahi genuinely believes that you’re his soulmate, the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with, and he couldn’t be happier.

 And while he’d never force it upon you, he really loves the idea of getting you pregnant and giving you the family that you both deserve. He wants to give you the baby he so desperately wants you to have, to see you softly rubbing your tummy and smiling at him, showing the world exactly who you love, who you choose to be with, who you’ll be spending the rest of your life loving and loyally staying alongside. He thinks he’d be a good father, in his oh so humble opinion, and that he’s completely, absolutely sure that you’d be a wonderful mother, and that together the two of you could have a happy, perfect family.

But of course, Asahi is no pure angel saint – he may not be the most possessive over you, but he can’t deny the wonderful side effects that come with pinning you down and breeding you. That is, there’s something about the fact that it’s his cock emptying load after load inside of you that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life.

There’s something about the fact that it’s his name you’re moaning out to finish inside of you that makes him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching and his thighs flexing involuntarily because god, you’d sound so fucking good moaning his name.

The idea that it’s because of him that the cute little bump throwing your body off proportion even exists makes him feral, hands eagerly ripping at your clothes and slotting you in his lap, grasping at your hips and physically bouncing you up and down on his cock until he’s groaning your name and stuffing you full again and again and again, leaving you dripping white and smelling his cum, like him.

He’s not the most possessive yandere, sure, but even Asahi can get behind the idea of marking you as his own, of claiming you in the most natural, animalistic way. It satisfies something deep within him – the same thing that urges him to rush forward and keep you from getting too close to the open flames on the stove, the same thing that urges him to buy the pretty flowers on his way home from work and tuck one behind your ear. He’s never given much stock to gender stereotypes, but it just feels right to have you be his sweet little housewife, to be your big, strong protector, to be your provider in more ways than one.

And while bringing you gifts and keeping a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach are certainly ways he loves to provide for you, he’s more than willing to provide for your more carnal needs, too.

He’s more than happy to fill you to the brim with his cum, the sticky white dribbling out of you in big globs that he pressed back in with a thumb, voice shaky as he jokes about having to buy some sort of a plug just to keep everything inside.

(The next morning you find a pretty, purple plug on your bedside table, Asahi looking sheepish as he tells you that it’s the only way to really be sure, you know? Can’t have you wasting anything…)

He’s more than happy to keep his cock inside of you after he’s come, to make sure you’re plugged up, to keep you laying so that you’re hips are elevated, so that his cum will surely reach your womb, so that your body will have no choice but to give him exactly what he wants.

And during sex, the thoughts racing through Asahi’s head absolutely reinfornce this – as his high approaches, there’s a mantra repeating over and over in his head to  come inside her, fuck a baby into her, get her pregnant so she’ll never leave you.

His hips will speed up, the sound absolutely obsene as he throws your legs over his shoulders, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he watches your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts, the mental image of you swollen and round and so fucking fertile leaving his head spinning and oh fuck fuck fuck –

He’s coming with a whine of your name, burying his face into your neck and grasping tightly onto your breast, chanting your name under his breath and pressing himself just a bit deeper inside, anything to try and increase the chances of it taking.

The idea of knocking you up clouds his senses as his hips plow into you, the sensation so overwhelming that he’s nearly crying, but fat tears welling up and streaming down his face to land on your own while he clutches onto your hand, the emotional end of realizing that he might get you pregnant hitting him at full speed and making him dizzy with desire and love.

He’ll oftentimes whisper sweet nothings about how beautiful you’ll look, how much he wants to give you children, how deeply he wants to come inside while his hips are pounding away, practically ramming into your cervix with each powerful, passionate thrust.

He loves the idea of having a baby with you, and it’s just an added bonus that giving it to you feels so good. 

Size kink

No matter your size, Asahi will be taller, stronger, bigger.

He’s six feet tall, muscular, and despite his timid disposition, he’s very much a force to be reckoned with. Despite transitioning to a career less focused on physical prowess, Asahi largely retained his physique.

He’s a little softer now, the muscles covered by a small layer of fat, but he’s still got definition lining every inch of his body, the short-sleeved t-shirts he wears doing very little to hide the outline of his biceps. When his shirt rides up as he pulls his hair back into its signature bun, it’s impossible to miss the way he seems to tower over everything and everything, his presence something commanding the room, making everyone else just feel so small.

And while none of it is on purpose, Asahi slowly notices with time just how pronounced this difference is.

He sees it in the way that your palms compare as he timidly snake his hand against yours, swallowing heavily and avoiding eye contact because god, not only are your hands soft and warm, they’re practically engulfed by his, the sight making something scratch at the back of his throat.

He sees it in the way that your arms just barely wrap around his torso when you hug him, your fingers lacing together. (Of course, this took him a very long time to notice – he was too flustered by the fact that you’re hugging him to really notice any details, and even then he’d been too preoccupied by the feeling of your clothed breasts pressing against his chest, willing everything in himself to not get hard, to not let the blood rush to his cock as he imagines the way your legs would feel wrapped around his waist.)

As time passes, Asahi discovers that not only is he noticing these things, but there’s something about the sight that gets him hot under the collar, his breathing more strained than usual and his voice coming out a bit crackly.

And really, this kink stems from his protectiveness of you and his need to feel like your savior, but there’s just something about having you underneath him, seeing how small your body is in comparison to his own that really gets to him.

The idea of you being a fraction of his size, of your body being so much cuter, tinier, and softer than his own is something that makes Asahi blush, the red spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his collarbone, the idea that you’re such opposites yet so perfect for one another simultaneously warming his heart and begging him to fuck you because he just loves you so much.

And while your size difference is something that Asahi has always rationally known about, it’s so much different to actually see it, to be physically forced to recognize that he’s just so big compared to you.

When you’re naked below him, looking up at him with those vulnerable, beautiful eyes while you clutch the pillow underneath your head and shakily swallow, Asahi is hit with the sudden realization that you so clearly need him, need his help to do everything, and that includes turning you into a panting, drooling mess with his fingers, tongue and cock.

He loves the foreign surge of dominance he feels, how powerful and manly it makes him feel to see you under him, looking up at him like that, your lips swollen and puffy from kissing and biting them, from enjoying the pleasure he’s so focused on delivering to you.

He loves watching you take his cock; how it stretches you out to the point where you’re tensed up, fisting the sheets and telling him to slow down because you need time to adjust to his massive length.

(Of course, Asahi immediately stops, panic eating away at him because what if he hurt you? There’s not a sadistic bone in his body, and when you have to tell him things like that it only reminds him how easily he gets lost in you, how quickly he succumbs to the carnal urge to just fuck you so hard that you’re screaming his name and showing everyone exactly who owns the tight little pussy he’s fucking and filling with his cum.)

He loves to intertwine his fingers with yours while he thrusts into you, marveling at how his fingers dwarf your own while his cock stretches you out so fully, so completely that it’s almost visible against the skin of your navel.

He’ll purposefully fuck you in positions that really showcase this difference in size, too – of course his favorite is missionary, getting to look at you while he slowly rolls his hips into yours, but there’s something exquisite about folding you into a mating press, too. The way he’s strong enough to practically force your ankles up to your ears, his entire body hovering over yours as he pounds into you, watching the way you seize up because the angle is just so fucking deep.

It’s not his favorite, but he’ll fuck you from behind, the position slowly morphing from doggy into prone bone as he becomes more and more desperate for you, soon laying almost completely on top of you while his hips stutter into yours, the sensation of warm cum flooding you and the feeling of Asahi in every inch of your space making your head spin.

Even non-penetrative positions have this effect on him – watching you settle between his legs and eagerly jerk him off gets him clutching onto the nearest surface, the sight of your fingers, so small and sweet and pretty compared to his own, making his knees feel weak because fuck you’re so delicate compared to him.

And god, your mouth? It’s over for him the moment that your lips wrap around his tip, the sight of a much-too-big cock forcing its way down your throat threatening to bring him to orgasm much, much too soon.

Every part of him is bigger, and he just loves how obvious his muscles and height make it that he’s the protector in the relationship, that he’s the one providing for you, keeping you safe, keeping you happy.

Because after all, he’d do anything to keep you happy. 

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Hair pulling

Quite honestly, Asahi’s not sure where this kink came from. His scalp has always been a bit sensitive, his hair silky and in remarkably good shape for little he brushes it, for how poorly he cares for it. And while he’s kept it long for all of his adult life, he’s still just the slightest bit insecure about being a man with long hair – the lingering stares of others making him slump his shoulders a bit, wishing they’d stop staring.

And so, he’s never really viewed his hair as something sexual – no girl has ever really pulled it, and on the rare occasions when he’s touched himself, a hand never manages to travel north of his chest.

And even on the more practical side of things, he’s never really been one for pain, for enjoying the stinging sensation of sharpness against his skin, of feeling the dull throb of a bruise being pressed on. He’s never really found it to be sexy, and by extension he’s never bothered to explore hair pulling.

But then he becomes intimate with you and as he’s kissing you, tongue tracing the shape of your teeth and moaning into your mouth he feels it –

Your nails scraping against his scalp, digging in and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling and tugging.

He actually moans, the sound high and whiny and so girly it nearly makes him cry, but he can’t help but beg you to do it again, a hand coming up to secure your place against his scalp.

There’s just something about the your fingers tunnel into his hair, gripping the brown locks between your nimble fingers while his tongue works fast, desperate circles against your clit, his fingers curling and arching just the way you told him to. Every tug at his hair drives him to work harder, to suck harder and lick faster because he just wants to please you, and the way you’re mixing pain with pleasure is making his hips buck against the mattress, unable to control himself as he whines against your cunt.

When your nails lightly scrape against his scalp, Asahi can’t help but close his eyes and moan, the vibrations going straight up your spine as he doubles his efforts, wanting to get you to come to an almost unhealthy degree.

And yet, as your hands pull harder, coaxing him into fingerfucking you harder, moving in the specific motion against your clit he knows you love, all you can do is throw your hair back and moan, little gasps of oh Asahi, oh please – I’m so close, don’t stop!

There’s something about the light touch of pain that makes him shiver, that makes the excitement stand up at the back of his neck, his eyes growing dilated and his efforts even more vigorous because fuck, you deserve to come, and by god is Asahi going to be the man to do it.

It’s become a staple of him giving you head – you always burrow your fingers into the loose, flowing brown locks, pulling him ever closer to your sopping cunt, something Asahi couldn’t be happier about.

And if you really want to leave him a flustered, panting mess, lightly tug at his hair without any warning in a non-sexual context – reach over during breakfast and give a light tug and you’ll see in real time as his face turns red, gaping like a fish and letting a hand drop his fork and wander down to his crotch, the table covering his motions. (Though the sound of a zipper slowly undoing is hardly difficult to identify, nor is the way the slick, clicking noises echo through the room as he shakily tells you to f-finish your breakfast…)

Lingerie

Perhaps it’s a result of his heightened attention paid to fashion, or perhaps it’s just Asahi’s nature, but as his infatuation with you develops, so too does his desire to see you all dressed up for him.

He doesn’t view you as a doll, per se, but Asahi finds that one of his guiltiest pleasures is to put you in clothing he designs specifically for you – pretty colors and cuts he thinks accentuate your curves, always sucking in a sharp breath and muttering out this awed, overtly genuine wow that makes you too embarrassed to respond.

And it’s sweet, more than anything, because the dresses and outfits he creates for you really are flattering – except that as your sexual relationship develops, he starts taking certain liberties, his creations becoming more and more risqué.

The lingerie he designs for you is tasteful, at least – it’s flattering as well, always in shades of pinks, reds, and white to enhance your natural coloring, his fingers always trembling when he helps you put them on, catching a bit of lace between his thumb and index finger and sighing out your name in a tone much too airy to be normal.

You look absolutely stunning – and he finds that fucking you with the lingerie still decorating your body only makes his kisses more heartfelt, longer, more needy because you’re just so damn pretty all dressed up and practically wrapped up like a gift for him.

But really, where’s Asahi’s true lingerie kink lies is not in you wearing it, but rather in him wearing it.

It’s beyond embarrassing to him and something that would take a long time for him to admit, but there’s a certain part of him that would actually like to try on a few of the lingerie sets he sees in magazines, tv and social media. Some of them are just so fucking pretty, soft pastels with lots of lace and ruffles, things that scream feminine and soft, pretty and fuckable.

And while Asahi knows he’s supposed to be the ‘man’ in the relationship, it’s a guilty pleasure that he just can’t shake – and so, when you one day catch him staring at an ad for a brand new baby blue two piece set on his phone, you ask him if he’s going to get it, cocking a brow at him because it’s rare for him to ever buy you lingerie sets rather than make them himself.

(He’d told you once that he can fit them to your body better than any manufacturer can. And what he hadn’t told you is that there’s a certain allure to knowing that you’re wearing something that he made you, not some unknown, random worker with no appreciation for you or your beauty.)

Immediately Asahi is scrambling to cover it up, nervously chuckling and denying your words, but when it shows up the next day and Asahi mumbles if you’d be willing to um, give me an opinion about something, you’re intrigued. And as you open the door to reveal him, familiar brown eyes are unable to meet your own gaze, his body language clearly nervous at your scrutiny.

But really, the sight of the six foot tall, burly man clad  in the soft material hugging his body and bringing out the natural tan color of his skin leaves you oddly breathless, the sight strangely bizarre and erotic.

The bra cups are a bit loose, though you can still see his pretty, pink nipples hard as a rock underneath the sheer material. The bra may be loose, but the pair of lacy, red panties most certainly are not – his cock threatens to burst out of it at any moment, his balls hanging on by a thread to stay inside of the dainty fabric.

And when you take a few steps forward, looking at him with wide eyes, he feels his heart drop when you say oh Asahi, you’re so beautiful.

(If you look closely enough, you can see his balls visibly clench at the compliment, the skin angry and red at the tightness of the panties.)

So while it’s not the manliest thing, Asahi can’t deny that it makes him feel good, and you’re always so touchy and sweet when he’s wearing it.

And so when he’s in more of a submissive mood, wanting you to take care of him, dote on him, love him and show him that you’re just as desperate and hopelessly in love as he is, he throws it on and sits patiently on the bed, waiting with baited breath for you to pull the strap out and make him feel like a good little boy.

(And god his moans are pretty, his little gasps and whines when you toy with the fabric making you power-hungry, the sight of his cute little hole clenching as you toy with him, bent over and panties pushed to the side is the stuff of fantasies – he’s just so fucking obedient when he’s all dressed up for you.)

BIGGEST FANTASY: 

Going hand in hand with his breeding kink and his want of starting a family with you, Asahi has a few guilty pleasures when it comes to the idea of a pregnant you.

He just can’t help it – his biggest domestic fantasy is having a family with you, and every time he sees a pregnant woman out and about something inside of him just snaps, the flood of images of you all knocked up making his knees nearly buckle.

(Of course, in these images you’re sometimes clothes and sometimes not – the clothes, when included, are always too small, making your breasts look even bigger and your stomach ever rounder.)

Something about the roundness of your body, how your curves are enhanced, how you look so fucking fertile really gets to him, especially with how your breasts begin to swell.

Something about watching as your nipples begin to darken, your areolas get larger, and the way the flesh begins to hang heavier, looking so full and ready to be emptied really gets to him, sparking some odd, primal instinct in him that he didn’t even know he had.

He’s staring constantly, brown eyes darting to the way his t-shirts are stretched taut against your belly bump and engorged breasts, how you look so perfect and domestic and like a real mother.

He’ll be much too shy to say anything, too nervous at your rejection of the fantasy he holds close to his heart, but he really wants nothing more than to just latch onto a leaking, aching nipple, wrap his lights tightly around it, circle his tongue over the sensitive skin, and suck.

He wants to taste you; feel the white liquid against his tongue, nurse off of you in such a human, natural way.

He almost feels as if it’s his reward - he put the baby inside of you that’s causing you to produce, he’s the one heading to work everyday, making money to bring back to you and your slowly growing family.

He’s the one that spent hours between your legs, fingering your pretty cunt and giving you load after load after load of hot, potent cum.

He’s your protector, and it’s his deepest fantasy to be rewarded for all his hard work with your breastmilk. He’ll never, ever admit it, but when he fondles your breasts and nibbles at them, sucking at them with a vigor you’ve never experienced before, those are the thoughts racing through his mind. 

              “I’m home!” Asahi calls, closing the front door and letting out a small, satisfied sigh at the sight of his little home. Touches of your style are everywhere - the couch has your favorite color throw pillows, your favorite art is on the walls, pictures of the two of you hanging in frames on the shelf above the fireplace on the far side of the living room. It makes him smile, something warm and fuzzy settling in his chest.

              He slips his shoes off, shrugging off his coat and venturing further into the house. Normally you’d be in the kitchen by now, preparing dinner and wanting to have a nice meal while the two of you discussed your days, telling one another how much you missed the other. When he doesn’t find you in the kitchen, his brow arches and he calls your name once more, a small pang of panic bolting through him at the thought of you not responding.

              “Oh! You’re home!” He hears you exclaim from behind him, and heaves out a small sigh of relief. He turns around with a soft smile on his face, but that smile vanishes as soon as he takes in your appearance. 

              You’re wearing one of his old tee shirts, the material a bit light and comfortable, and a pair of your favorite panties peeking out from under the hem. You look so fucking pretty that it takes him a moment to register your words, brown eyes dilating and focusing on the sight of you in his shirt, the smooth expanse of your thighs, the smile on your face that gets his knees weak. But as he takes in the full sight of you, something else catches his eye – immediately saliva is pooling against his tongue, his fingers twitching and his tongue flicking out to lick over his lips.

Two small, uneven pools of wet form right over the swell of your breasts, staining the fabric a darker shade and making his mouth water slightly. The sight of your chest straining heavily against the shirt has him taking a step forward hastily, aching to get closer and closer.

              You notice his staring, and you scratch the back of your neck a bit awkwardly. “Welcome home, love. Sorry, I was just about to go start pumping but the laundry had me busy. I lost track of time.” 

              He just nods, not able to take his gaze away from you. You blink, before quirking the corner of your lips up. Although your husband had never asked, you’d noticed his affinity for your chest increasing tremendously after you’d begun lactating - he thought he was smooth when he’d oh so innocently walk in on you with your pump, watching your milk fill up the bottle, but you knew better. The fixation in his eyes as he stared was telling, the way he’d play with his hands and fingers, struggling to keep eye contact with you making it oh so apparent. And so, with a confidence that only he could allow you to develop over the years, you realize that maybe it was alright that you hadn’t started dinner quite yet.

              You bite your lip and slowly walk up to him, until you’re close enough to hear the slight wheeze in his breaths. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as his eyes dart between your face and your breasts, trying to decide where to look. You almost laugh. “Asahi...I have an idea, if you’d be willing to try it out.”

              His gaze meets yours with a bit of reluctance, and his brows tighten. “S-sure! What did you have in mind?”

              You smile, leaning up on your tippy toes and placing a kiss against his cheek. “Well, since I haven’t started dinner yet, and I didn’t get to start pumping, and you’ve been gone all day, working hard and making me proud, I think you deserve a little reward.”

              Asahi visibly flushed at this, and his eyes widened a bit. “A reward? What do you mean?”

              You bite your lip, reaching out to take one of his large hands into your own, before carefully placing it over one of your breasts. He gasps sharply, his entire body tensing as he feels the wetness underneath his palm. You look up at him, doing your best to give him as seductive and sultry a look as you can muster. 

              “Well, I was thinking that maybe I could give you a little treat? As a thank you for everything that you do for me. It’s been waiting all day, and I’m so, so full… would you like that? Do you want a little snack as a reward?” You ask, watching his reaction carefully. His brown eyes are so warm, so genuinely shocked, and for a second you almost wonder if he’ll say no, or push you away. But before you can take back your words, he’s eagerly nodding, walking you backwards into the living room and settling you down into a sitting position on the couch. He crouches below you, on his knees in between your legs, still in the nice clothes he’d worn to work today. You grab the hem of your shirt, carefully lifting it over you and throwing it to some unknown part of the room. The cold air hits you, and you feel your nipples harden and the skin of your breasts tighten up. 

              Asahi lets out a mix between a moan and a whimper at the sight of your bare chest, staring in awe with his mouth open. When you see him not moving, you carefully reach your hands up, cupping your breasts and gently squeezing, causing a small stream of milk to leak out of each nipple.

              “Darling, don’t you want your reward?” You ask, squeezing extra hard, sending a spurt of liquid out, his eyes following the arc as he licks his lips.

Asahi gulps, a low growl escaping him as he gently pulls your hands away, instead latching his mouth around a nipple and sucking -

              You sigh softly, the feeling of his lips applying pressure and his tongue swiping over your nipple much more erotic than you had been expecting. His lips work against you, tongue swirling against your sensitive areolas as his cheeks hollow. He moans against you, the taste of you overwhelming his senses and setting his body alight with pleasure. He can feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight, but he just sucks harder, listening to your coos and cries above him. 

              His hand reaches out to cup your other breast, squeezing a bit more firmly and watching the milk leak, before he leans back, releasing the nipple from his mouth with a popping sound, and squeezes once more, harshly, watching as a stream of milk arcs through the air and directly into his parted, awaiting mouth. You both moan, and he swallows. He rubs his fingers over your nipples, and looks up at you, licking his lips. 

              “I think it’s time you showed me just how good you taste down here, too.” He says, grinding his clothed erection against your crotch. You moan, nodding your head and tangling your fingers into his hair, watching his eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

            And, thirty minutes later as he’s pulling out of you, hissing slightly at the overstimulation, Asahi can only pant, a hand once again coming up to lightly squeeze at your breast, the kiss he gives you heated enough to have you melting against the mattress, too relaxed to even notice the way he pushes himself back in again, gasping into your mouth and pushing through the overstimulation because he needs this, needs you.

            After all, he can never get enough of you.

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I really enjoyed your race on love island one shot! I’m not sure if you’re taking request but I think this would be a great scenario to write more about, imagine there’s a recoupling but another male contestant picks reader before rafe can. Then rafe is the only one without another partner and he gets sent home but reader ends up leaving too. You could also add in there that production was getting tired of rafe and mastermind this to get rid of him.

(A/n/: she’s a bit long and might need editing but i think liusa Rafe is so fun)

After a challenge everyone is aware that since there’s singles in the villa at least two new bombshells are going to enter before the recoupling. You’re not surprised when the new girl makes her entrance, but it does put you on edge when the producers make a big show of wanting the male bombshell to come in on his own. The new bombshell that enters the villa is one that the producers obviously picked from your description of what type of guys you’re into and everyone can see it. This guy walks in and immediately there are frantic pats thrown to rafe’s side by his ping pong partner to look over, and once you notice the game has stopped you look up to where everyone else is and the new bombshell looks exactly like Rafe just with darker features. He has darker skin, darker hair in the exact same buzz cut, and darker green eyes that immediately find you, it’s obvious there’s an agenda and it makes you roll your eyes.

The other girls call you over to participate in a mandatory group chat, where the whole point is to fawn over the new bombshell. You hop down from the ledge you’re sitting on to walk over to Rafe. You grab his face and give him a sad smile, “You have nothing to worry about” You tell him quietly. He nods his head softly as you push up on your tippy toes to kiss him. He leans into you, letting his hand drift to pull your bikini skirt down, giving you a tap before sending you off.

You follow the rest of the girls to the couch and purposefully sit on the very edge, your eyes flicker up and catch Rafe standing attentively on the other side, his bet in the ping pong game long forgotten about.

The bombshell sits in the middle of you all and introduces himself, you half listen to the entire conversation until one of the girls asks him what he’s looking for in the villa. You pray that he’s here for the only girl who’s not in a couple, but she’d be on her fourth guy after this and her future on the show isn’t looking the best. You cringe a little when he basically points you out, making everyone else laugh. They ring off comments like “She’s off limits” and let him know that “Her man is the one standing like a pit bull at ping pong.” He looks over and so do all of the other girls, making it so that just about everyone is turnt, looking and pointing at Rafe. He gives everyone little wave with a shit eating grin on his face.

The bombshell turns back towards you with a grin of his own before separating you from the group and asking you a bunch of questions that you’re sure he already knows the answers too. He asks if you’re closed off with Rafe and when you tell him that you’re more than happy he pushes even more, trying to push the idea that you should explore before making up your mind, and even going as far to make sexually charged advances towards you. He pushes enough to make you uncomfortable and as soon as Rafe sees your face change, he’s across the villa in seconds asking to pull you so that your dinner won’t get cold.

You immediately take the out walking with him towards the kitchen. Rafe leans down to kiss your head, mumbling “You alright” low enough to where your mics won’t pick it up.

You smile at him, “Yeah, just ready to shower”

He looks at you with a knowing look, the shower being the only place that you can talk to each other without cameras or microphones. The two of you are banned from jumping in the pool together for the exact same reason, but luckily for y’all they can’t exactly stop you from showering.

You stand in the shower explaining every little detail about your conversation with the bombshell to Rafe, watching as his body tenses up at certain parts. When you’re done talking it takes Rafe a bit to respond. He stands directly under the running water to collect his thoughts, until he grunts in response frustrated, “He’s basically here to fuck me over and I can’t do shit about it”

“I’m sorry baby” you pout at him slightly, rubbing his arm in reassurance.

“Don’t be, as long as you don’t suddenly get a taste for green eyes” He jokes, trying to get a laugh out of you, only being cut off by a harsh knock on the glass door.

That night the two bombshells are told to pull their islanders of choice for secret dates. The producers make it a point not to involve anyone else, but it’s kind of hard too when Rafe has always slept with an iron tight grip on you and this night in particular he’s basically sleeping on top of you with his head on your chest. When you’re woken up to leave you roll to your side and Rafe is automatically waking up and on alert. “They pulled me for a date”, you whisper into his ear, watching as he sits up with his back against the wall, tiredly wiping his eyes and mumbling out a response. The entire time everyone’s getting ready Rafe is sitting up with his arms crossed and a heavy glare on his face, being told that under no circumstances can he get out of bed to interfere. You give him a kiss before you leave, the feeling of his lips heavy on yours the entire time you sit on your date and especially when the bombshell moves into to kiss you without warning. You struggle to politely reject him, keeping in mind that America is watching and that you can be perceived as the villain at the turn of one episode. It feels like you’re over explaining yourself for the thousandth time that you’re closed off.

He seems to understand or at least that’s what you think until the recoupling. Rafe is the last in line and although it’s strange for the bombshells to recouple before the original cast you think nothing of it as you stand idly waiting for his turn. You’re not even listening until you hear your name come from the bombshell. Your jaw drops and you can’t even bring yourself to move, you just look at Rafe utterly stunned.

You can feel tears brim your eyes as he reads the text “Rafe you are now single and dropped from the Villa, You’ll have 30 minutes to pack.” He looks up from the phone and directly at you. At an instant you’re moving towards him, his arms already outstretched and ready to hold you. “Don’t cry” he says shaking his head, giving you a sad smile that does nothing but make you want to cry even more.

“These aren’t sad tears they’re angry, like this is so fucking unfair to you” You whine, watching as the islanders start to say goodbyes, leaving Rafe for last to give you more time with him than anyone.

“Give them hell for me, while i’m gone. I wanna hear all about it when you get out” he laughs, hands rubbing at your side.

“Fuck that” you mumble pushing off of him “I don’t want to be here without you” you tell him quietly, not ready for the amount of uproar you’re getting ready to cause.

His eyebrows shoot up at your confession,“Really?”

“Why would I stay? For the money? You know I don’t care about that. I came here to find my person and I did” you admit to him wholeheartedly. You barely get to finish speaking before he picks you up parading you around and celebrating the fact that his girl is going home with him. Majority of the villa is happy for the two of you and understand why you’d leave with him, so they don’t do much to convince you to stay. You’re confident in your relationship being able to last on the outside and even if it doesn’t you can say you left love island with absolutely no regrets.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 6

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, sexually charged conversations, teasing/banter. Smut, sex toys, minor bondage, spanking. A guest star of Anthony DiNozzo! I didn't really want to bring in a whole THIRD fandom into this but it ended up working out really nicely and I can play around with it in future chapters too! It feels like it's been ages since I've updated this so clearly the last week was a long one lol. Remember how I said I wanted to be a chapter ahead from now on with my series? Yeah that quickly did not happen. LOL. I'm gonna try to keep up with it, and I promise y'all won't wait longer than a week between chapters, I just need to hunker down and write!

Working for Heather meant that you worked insane hours that could change at the drop of a hat, but it also meant that you could essentially make your own schedule whenever you wanted. You could do most of your job from home or a hotel, as long as you had Wi-Fi you were in the clear, you spent a lot of your time gallivanting around D.C to finish whatever tasks you needed to. Shuffling your schedule around constantly meant that you were more than given the liberty to a Thursday afternoon off and that is exactly why you were meandering down Wisconsin Avenue with Tony in tow. Some of your friends questioned why you always went shopping with him, but the truth was he knew style, understood expensive taste, always told the truth if something looked bad and the entire experience was more efficient. If you went out with your girlfriends on a shopping spree you got dragged into twelve stores you needed nothing from and had to wait while they tried on countless amounts of outfits. With Tony the most that would happen would you’d have some extra browsing time at L. Priori because he got distracted by the watches.

“You got some big White House party coming up or something?” He asked, taking a sip of the coffee you’d bought him earlier.

“Huh?” You glanced over your shoulder as you picked up the small bag, “no.”

“We’ve done jewels, we’ve done shoes,” he pushed the door open for you, holding it while you crossed through the entry way and back out onto the street, “you dropped off three dresses for alterations and looked through the catalogue of what’s coming in…”

“I just want to revamp my closet a little bit, make sure I’m prepared for summer, you know how many extra garden parties I end up at.”

“And your boss is okay with that amount of cleavage?” He asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, “I think you’re bullshitting me.”

“I got a little carried away doing spring cleaning and tossed half my closet.” You bluffed, “I work so much I forgot I actually wore the other shit and now need to replace it.” Veering off to the side your hand tugged open the door to Jaryam and Tony followed you inside.

“When’s your next date?” He asked with a grin.

“I never said anything about a date.”

“Then why did you just drag me into a lingerie store?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “I didn’t drag you anywhere, you love this shit. I just want some new pieces; you’ve got the right eye for colour and the masculine fetishistic imagination to tell me which ones I’ll look the best in.”

He chuckled darkly, not bothering to disagree with you as you made your way further into the shop, he was a pace behind you, fiddling with a price tag when he scoffed and you turned back to him with a raised brow, “I’ve heard you complain about the prices in Victoria’s Secret and that’s got nothing on this, a thong for a hundred and fifty dollars?”

“It’s… about the quality.” You shrugged, “thirty dollars for a scrap of fabric that falls apart in a month made in a sweatshop isn’t a good investment.” You picked up the pair that he was looking at, reading through the tag, “something hand stitched made with quality fabric that’s going to last? Worth it.”

“Hmm.” He replied, surveying you for a minute as you put the thong back on the rack, “you know, I noticed when you picked up the coffee that you used a black card…”

“You’re really working those sleuthing skills today, aren’t ya?” You teased back with a grin, moving onto a wall of lace bras.

“It’s not exactly a difficult mystery.” He smirked, following you, “fancy shoes, nice jewels, new clothes, expensive lingerie,” you turned back to face him, an unimpressed look on your face and he practically caged you into the wall, “who’s your daddy?”

“Ew, Tony, fuck off.” You groaned, shoving at his chest as he laughed, “coffee and meals can be turned into a write off. I used Heather’s card.”

“Bah! Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll just run your financials when I get back to the office.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “they call you a very Special Agent DiNozzo?”

“Why yes, yes they do.” He smiled, getting a little smug about it and you shook your head at him.

“Then explain to me how running my financials would let you in on whose card I’m using.” You asked, watching as he opened his mouth to give you some witty response but he couldn’t find one, gaping for a minute before he let out a defeated huff and you tugged him in the other direction, “now c’mon, I know you have a good eye for lingerie.”

“Now that, I will not deny.” He replied with a smile and you did roll your eyes as he followed you deeper into the shop.

You combed through practically every shelf in the place, trying to figure out what kind of styles you were going to settle on before Tony started to share his opinions. He reminded you how good blue looked on you when you picked up a soft pink set and suggested the lace florals over lace butterflies. You were narrowing it down between a handful of choices and he was quick to intervene when he noticed you were eliminating all the variation.

“Wait,” he cut in, swiping the one you were trying to put back on the shelf, “keep that one. Get rid of this one.” He plucked the peach set from your collection, tossing it into the return pile.

“It’s cute!” You protested.

“Exactly. Everything you’re keeping is ‘cute’, you’re playing it too safe and I know that’s not you. The lilac one is the nicest, little hint of lace for a bonus, so get it.” He started flicking through the rack you had your favourites on, “keep the teal one for the crystals, plus it matches that pair of heels you bought. The rest of this batch can go but add these to your buying list.” He picked up a lacy black and red set that was mostly see through and included a garter belt, handing it off to you, and a gorgeous deep green set. “That’ll look great with your skin,” his brow furrowed for a second as he examined it, “wait it’s not your size, you’re what?” His eyes were suddenly on you and you groaned,

“Stop staring at my tits.” You stated dryly as he turned around, grabbing another one of the green set from the shelf.

“Thirty four C, right?”

“I don’t know whether I should be impressed or grossed out that you were able to figure that out.”

“They don’t call me Very Special Agent DiNozzo for nothing.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to go try these on.” You scooped up the remaining sets, “not for your viewing pleasure! Occupy yourself.”

You weren’t surprised in the least when all of Tony’s recommendations were right and you were happy to be leaving with a variety of options. Returning from the dressing room you found him near the till looking through accessories and he shot you a cocky grin as you placed all of his choices down on the counter. You shuffled the shopping bags in your hand over to the other one,

“Can you hold this?” You asked, handing him your purse as you pulled Emily’s card from within it, passing it off to the cashier. Once the purchase was completed and the cashier was wrapping up the lingerie, she placed the card down on the counter and out of the corner of your eye you saw Tony making a move for it, managing to swipe it up before he could get to it.

“Hey!” You swatted the back of his head and he grimaced.

“Ow. That was worse than Gibbs.” He muttered.

“You fuck around and you’ll find out.” You returned but he was too busy on his phone to really pay attention.

You took your purse back from him, tossing it over your shoulder as you thanked the clerk and added the bag of lingerie to the others with your shopping and the two of you made your way back onto the street. You jumped when Tony’s fingers prodded at your side, digging into your ribs.

“C’mon… let me know something, please.” He batted his eyes at you, “I just helped you pick lingerie; I deserve to know something. Doctor? Artist? App developer? Congressman?”

“Nope, nope, nope and hard nope.” You replied with a huff and he groaned so you finally turned back to him, stalling in your steps, “what I will tell you, is that she most definitely outranks NCIS, so you can officially drop it.”

“Ohoho… a new lady friend…” It was his turn to slow in his tracks, eyes lingering in the window of the next shop, “you need any special accessories for that?”

“Tony you’re insane if you think I’m taking you into a sex toy store.”

“Meh, doesn’t really matter since you’ve already covered that step.” He grinned and your brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Swiped your phone and went through your emails.” With a laugh he tossed the device back to you as you let out a gasp, “peach flavoured lube, nice. Nipple clamps? Kinky, didn’t realize you were into that kinda pain.” That earned him a hard punch on the arm, “but that double sided dildo with vibration? Now that sounds like a real party.”

“Anothony DiNozzo!” You scolded and he let out a small whine of a scoff, gesturing toward the sex store.

“I’m the perfect person to give sex toy recommendations, c’mon.” He protested and you sighed.

“Tony. You are a straight man. What could you possibly known about sex toys for me to use with another woman?”

“One of those wand things, Hibachi?”

“That’s Japanese barbecue, but nice try.”

“The wands!”

“You’re going for Hitachi.”

“Close enough!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “the big one’s better but I think they sell smaller ones too, more portable.” He waggled his eyebrows at you and you sighed.

“Think? Tony, pull your head outta your ass. Any self respecting person with a clit already owns one of those.”

“Really?” He smirked at you and you did your best not to groan.

“I’ve got three, a mini pink, a mini green and the big one, which yes, is far superior. Can we go now?”

“Fine.” He groaned, feigning annoyance, “you dragging me to a nail appointment next?”

“No, I was gonna buy you a late lunch.”

“You were? Or is your mommy dearest gonna buy lunch.” He exaggerated the word, nearly moaning as he said it and you immediately grimaced.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“Yup, that one felt wrong coming out. My bad, that’s on me.”

**

Emily turned down dessert service, asking for the cheque instead as she gave the server a soft smile, picking up her cocktail once again as she turned back to you. In turn, you finished your drink, placing the glass down on the table as you stood, your hand coming to squeeze at Emily’s thigh softly as your lips brushed against her cheek.

“Give me a five minute head start, I’ve got a surprise for you.” You scooped up your phone, shooting Emily a wink as you sauntered away from the table in the direction of the elevator.

Her eyes followed you through the entrance of the lounge, narrowing in on your ass as you pushed the elevator button and the sparks began to fly through her body. It hadn’t been a particularly long week, but it was very safe to say that you had been on her mind more often than not. Images of your naked body strewn across the bed floating into her brain, making her cheeks flush while she was torturously bored with paperwork. A too long tedious conference call lead to her zoning out, daydreaming all the things she wanted to do to you, the noises you made echoing through her mind. It was almost a given that night that she had a rather self soothing shower when she got home, pulling her laptop out when she finally crawled into bed to take a look at what fun things she could buy to occupy your time with in the future weekends.

Emily settled the bill, slowly draining the rest of her cocktail until she was certain she’d given you enough time to do whatever it was you had planned before she finally left the restaurant. The key card beeped against the lock and she stepped inside the suite, letting the door swing shut behind her before she made sure it was locked. She stepped out of her heels, dropping her purse on the side table in the entry way before rounding the bed into the suite, catching a glimpse of you laid out on the bed and her lips twitched up into a grin.

“Well that certainly is a welcome sight.”

“Yeah?” You asked, sitting up and shifting onto your knees, “you see something you like?”

“I see plenty I like.” She walked up to the foot of the bed as you crawled on your knees to greet her, your hands settling on her hips as one of hers curled around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers for a kiss.

Her tongue easily slipped into your mouth when you let out a satisfied groan, both of you relaxing into the kiss, lips dancing with grace against each other. Her hand slipped into your hair, pulling out the pins to let it fall loose around your shoulders, pulling at it lightly. When her teeth scraped against your lip you couldn’t help but moan, your hands drifting up her body as you slowly began to unbutton her shirt. She broke the kiss to help you untuck the fabric from her pants, letting it drop to the floor behind her before her fingers began to trace the lines of the teal lingerie set, floating over the gems decorating your chest.

“You like the crystals?” You asked, small grin on your lips and she nodded.

“They’re gorgeous.”

“They’re Swarovski.” You replied with a near smirk and she let out a huff of a laugh.

“You really went all in, hey?”

“Just wanted to make sure I looked nice and pretty for you.” You shrugged coyly and she chuckled, giving you a once over.

“Well you do.” She leant down, kissing you gently before her hands nudged at your shoulders, “you’re not the only one who brought something fun, lie back princess.”

“I noticed.” You replied, a gleam in your eye as you dropped into the pillows, an arm extending to the nightstand where you picked up a silk tie, “multifaceted, curious as to what your intentions are.”

“First…” Emily rounded the side of the bed, “I want to see what’s under that gorgeous bra.” She nodded at you and you sat up, hands flying behind you to unclip it, gently tossing it to the side, “good girl.” She plucked the fabric from your hands, picking up a longer one from the nightstand before kneeling on the bed. “Give me your hands.” She instructed and you held your hands out for her, wrists gently pressed together as she began to wind the fabric around them, “is this okay?”

“Absolutely.” You replied, looking up at her with darkening eyes as she tightened the silk.

“Do you have a word?”

“I’m fond of peach.”

“Perfect.” With a wicked grin she placed a gentle kiss on your wrist before guiding you to lie back with your arms over your head and she looped the shorter piece through your bonds, securing the other end to the golden bar of the headboard. “No surprises there.” She purred as she slid off the bed, letting out a satisfied hum as her eyes dragged over your body.

“Hm?” You raised a brow, watching as she moved back to a spare chair.

“Just how pretty you look tied up like that.” Emily tossed a grin over her shoulder, “but you are going to need to roll over for the second part of your treat.”

You nearly let out a whine when her hands came to her belt buckle, eager to be able to see both what was coming next and what she had under her clothes. Instead of risking it you decided to behave, rolling onto your stomach, your arms stretching over your head as you twisted it to the side, just barely able to see Emily under your arm. She had busied herself with getting rid of her clothing, a neat pile forming on the small bench next to her bag as she pulled out the strap, swiftly stepping into it and securing it around her hips. Your mouth was practically watering already and then she reached into her bag again, pulling out a crop with a cute little heart on the end and you had to hold back a moan.

Emily could see the way your body tensed, how your hips ground down into the bed as she reapproached it and a dark chuckle escaped her lips. Kneeling on the bed behind you her hand grasped your ankle, spreading your legs further apart and you did your best to arch your back, presenting yourself to her.

“Such obedience.” She murmured, letting the crop lightly trace up your inseam as you let out an airy breath.

Emily slowly trailed the crop up and down your legs, just the slightest hint of touch that she knew you were absolutely begging for in your head. She could see the way your body twitched whenever it got close to the heat between your legs and a wicked grin took over her lips. The crop finally came up over the swell of your ass, softly circling and tracing patterns on your skin and you finally let out a whine. Since this was the first time you’d actually made a louder noise, Emily figured this was the time to both give in and start to really tantalize you now. She raised the crop, swatting it down onto your ass and you let out a low moan.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You eagerly nodded into the pillows and the crop trailed across to the other cheek, repeating the circles before coming down harder on that side and your breath caught in your throat.

“Ohh…” Your fingers interlaced, squeezing tightly, “harder, please.”

“My little princess likes it rough.” Emily husked from behind you, “somehow I’m not that surprised.”

The crop came down on the same spot harder than the first before she flicked it over your other cheek, swatting just as hard, watching the way your body reacted, jolting at the touch before grinding your cunt down onto the bed. She brought the head of the crop between your legs, pushing the fabric of your panties into your pussy, rubbing the leather up and down your folds as you moaned, arching into the touch.

“Fuuckk…”

Emily chuckled darkly, bringing the crop up before hitting your ass with more force, smirking at the louder moans leaving your lips, the way you were pulling against your bonds, wishing your hands were free. The sounds of the spanks echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as your moans grew louder and longer, every time the crop was brought down onto your body it grew from a tingle to a pleasurable burn. Emily continued to trail the leather across your skin, occasionally her hand gently rubbing across the spot to sooth the burn, little praises and coos leaving her lips. The tingles each time she spanked you began to build, growing together with each hit of the crop until there was a fire building right under your skin, whimpers and whines leaving your lips as you buried your face into the pillows. Every swat of the crop made your entire body shiver and you were nearly about to start begging for more when she moved it back between your legs.

“You really like this, hmm?” She asked, pressing it against your cunt again, “making such a big wet spot on these nice panties.” She rubbed it harder against you, watching the way your wetness continued to soak the fabric, “you know, I’d take them off and stuff them in your mouth if you didn’t make such pretty noises…”

You groaned softly, your hips rocking back toward the touch, a little whimper leaving your throat when the crop nearly rubbed against your clit. Emily hummed softly, lifting the crop up before bringing it back down, this time onto your pussy and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped you.

“Oh fuucck…” Your head buried deeper into the pillows, your eyes scrunching shut as you felt your pussy fluttering around nothing, your clit nearly pulsing already, juices smearing across your underwear.

Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, flipping you onto your back watching as your legs instinctively fell open for her to see the growing wet spot on your panties. She brought the crop back to your cunt, rubbing it harder against you as you started to whine, resulting in another swat that brought a gasp from your lips.

“You like this even more, don’t you princess?” She asked with a grin and you nodded, “you want your pussy spanked too?” Spank. “Think you can come from just this?” Spank.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “more, please.”

“Always such nice manners.” She praised, her fingers slipping into the waistband of your thong, tugging the fabric down your legs and tossing it behind her. Her hands soothed up your legs, spreading them even further apart from each other as her thumbs dared to brush the edges of your cunt. “Such a pretty pussy. God you’re just fucking drenched already.”

Emily picked the crop back up, rubbing it through your slick folds, pressing harder as she brought it to your clit.

“Please.” You whimpered and she chuckled softly.

The first hit was on the gentle side, her eyes tracing up your naked body, watching your face for any sign of discomfort but all she found was a look of sheer pleasure. Your eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open as breathy moans escaped them, it was all she needed to bring the crop down even harder the next time.

“Fuck.” Your body twitched off the bed, cunt pulsing as more juices dribbled out of it.

“That’s it princess.” Spank. “You’re doing so good for me.” Spank.

“Oh god…” Your hands clutched at the silk ties as your body shivered, pleasure building higher and higher with each time the crop hit your cunt.

“I know you’re close.” Spank. “Just a few more.” Spank. “Pussy’s so wet.” Spank. “Let go for me.” Spank.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your back arching off the bed, pulling against the restraints as your orgasm shot through you, pussy pulsating around nothing as your juices dripped onto the bedspread.

“That’s it.” Emily cooed, the crop gently rubbing against your cunt, smearing your wetness all around it and your thighs. “So pretty when you come for me.”

“Please…” you whimpered, “need you.”

“You want more?” She asked, gently spanking your pussy again and you whined.

“No, please! Need your cock.” You were absolutely begging, pussy fluttering, feeling so entirely empty. Despite the powerful orgasm you needed to be filled, stretched around Emily to finally feel completely satisfied.

“So needy tonight.” Emily teased, dropping the crop to the side as she climbed over you, running the tip of the toy through your folds, “this what you want?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously, “please.”

“Alright.”

Emily didn’t hesitate, knowing you were absolutely drenched she sunk her cock fully into you until her hips met yours and you let out a very satisfied moan. She pulled back just enough to sneak her hand between your bodies, turning on the vibration on the base of the toy, just against her clit and a breathy sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her hips, pulling out until just the tip was left inside you and set a steady pace, fucking you thoroughly. Each thrust of her hips had your body twitching up off the bed, pulling against your restraints as you ached to touch her, pleasure shooting through your limbs.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “feels so good.”

Each thrust of her cock the head brushed right over your g-spot, pulling louder moans from you each time as your pussy began to clench down around her. You could feel your juices smearing across both of your bodies as she fucked deeper into you, picking up the pace as she knew you were getting close again.

“Are you going to come again for me angel?” She cooed, her hands gliding up your body to toy with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them in time with her thrusts.

“S-s’close.” You moaned, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet hers with each thrust.

Your hands tugged against the silk ties again, gasping when Emily’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into her mouth for her tongue to flick patterns across it. The double, nearly triple sensation if you counted the vibrations hitting your clit each time your bodies met was nearly too much, your pussy making almost more noise than the ones coming from your mouth. All you could do was whimper and whine, your head too fuzzy to get actual words to come out, the coil inside you got tighter and tighter until Emily’s teeth sunk into your chest and it burst through you.

“Fuck!”

Your body trembled, the tingles shooting all the way from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes as Emily continued to fuck you. Her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a low swear, now focused on chasing her own release. She sunk fully into you, pressing the vibrating part of the toy directly against her clit and it gave you the opportunity to roll your hips against hers, grinding the base harder onto her. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as your eyes scrunched shut, another orgasm bursting through you from the sensation and Emily let out a soft cry.

“Oh god.” Her hand slipped between your bodies, switching the vibrations off before she sat up.

Emily panted slightly, attempting to catch her breath as she reached out, swiftly undoing the ties and your arms were finally free to drop to the bed. You let out a soft groan, flexing your hands before Emily caught them in hers, examining your wrists to make sure you hadn’t pulled too hard and hurt yourself. Once satisfied that you hadn’t she let them drop and shifted on her knees, slipping out of you and watching your juices dribble onto the bed.

“Mmm…” you sighed, your lips curving up into a grin.

“What?” She asked with a raised brow.

“That was hot.” You replied, “kinda wish you could come inside me though.”

“Well…” she leant over you, kissing you before nipping at your lower lip, “I’m sure that can be arranged for next time.”

_____________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sires-blog

[imaybe5tupid]

I’ve been listening to a lot of the James Bond theme songs at work and imagining this kind of movie

My ideas for the plot under the cut

Laios is the nerdy gay sidekick who turns out to have been the villain all along, and his plan is to use nuclear radiation to create a new world of mutants, and Falin (his top henchman, who has been pretending to just be his lab partner) is secretly the first person to have been turned into a mutant (there’s a big reveal of her chimera traits as well as her showing that she doesn’t really need her glasses anymore). Laios goes on a villain rant about how the people of him and Falin’s hometown rejected her, and he was rejected by the boys in school, the men in the military, and yes even YOU Shuro!!! YOU MOST OF ALL!!!! yadda yadda villain/spurned love confession rant.

In the climax, Laios gets shot but manages to run away into the nuclear reactor where he’s pursued by Shuro. He then rushes to mutate himself as well as Shuro who he felt such respect/adoration for, in desperation so they can share something together, and so he himself won’t die as a boring human. This attempt is a pitiful failure, as other agents have already shut down the reactor so Laios is like acting as if the buttons/switches he’s pressing are actually working (he’s fully aware but completely humiliated and trying to save face/convince himself), and like explaining the science of how the mutation will work, but Shuro is just kindly indulging him/playing along at this point. Shuro also reveals his real name to him. In his final moments, they share a philosophical, romantically/sexually charged conversation.

In the end, Shuro and Falin bury his body, but Shuro holds on to Laios’ glasses. Falin joins up with the secret agency Shuro works for, and she lives her life traveling with them, since their scientists want to study her (she’s developed a strange invulnerability to damage and resistance to diseases).

There is a postcredits bonus scene of everyone else in headquarters watching/listening shuro and laios yaoi conversation in the reactor core like a sports broadcast, bravern style, since even if shuro chivalrously turned his hidden transponder off, he forgot about the building security cameras

In future movies, there will always be a Falin deus ex machina moment where she shows up to cheerfully beat the shit out of everyone+ shoot them with her laser guns when all hope is lost. Everybody in the audience watching the movies are always like OMG FALIN YAYYY when she shows up, like she’s Spiderman. And she acts like Austin Powers.

[actual-changeling]

imagine the embarrassment of aziraphale arriving in heaven and realising that outside of the metatron and the archangels no one gives a single fuck about angel-demon relationships and everyone is calling up their burning-hot hotties with their angel phones in the stairwell

he gets an angel phone for himself and asks the tech angel giving it to him why some numbers have a flame behind them and they're just like "those are your obviously non-existent contacts in the below, sir" and he looks at them like 👁👄👁 they are my what now

the first time he sees michael chilling on the observation deck while having a violently and sexually charged conversation with dagon he would have exploded his corporation if he'd had one

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird (Azriel x Reader)

Oop, I said the next thing I posted would be Shrinking Violet Part II, but I'm still putting the finishing touches to that, so I thought I would just share this little piece I wrote ages ago. I don't know what it is or what it's going to be, but I hope you enjoy, all the same!

Warnings: None.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There was no way it was all in his head.

No possible fucking way that it was all in Azriel’s head. 

He hadn’t imagined the light touches, the subtle glances. That little charge of energy he felt when the middle Archeron sister was anywhere nearby. He’d been alive long enough to know the difference between meaningless lust and…something else. 

And yet he found himself, once again, sat across the room from them – watching them. Watching Lucien Vanserra attempt to make conversation with his mate, and wondering how the Cauldron had gotten it so wrong – how he had ended up mated to her, and not Azriel himself. 

Elain was polite enough to feign interest, to not glance across to Azriel, where her eyes would usually stray if Vanserra wasn’t around. And that was what Az found so puzzling, so frustrating, about it; that he and Elain were drawn to each other, always teetering on the edge of that line they were forbidden from crossing. There had to be a reason–

The spymaster’s eyes shuttered. The fucking scent of the bond was getting to be too much, filling up a room that usually felt quite generous in size. It was a too-sweet, cloying smell that shoved its way up his nose and reminded him of treacle; thick, sticky, unbearable. And the sound of Elain’s laughter – whether it was forced or not – only worsened it. Made it sweeter. Stronger. 

Az jumped up from his chair, ignoring the inquisitive look that Cassian shot him. He’d agreed to come to the family dinner, and he’d done just that – but he’d made no such commitment about lingering afterwards to be tortured by a room full of mating bonds and sexual tension – which very much existed between Nesta and Cassian also, even if the eldest Archeron would never admit it. 

He had to get away, out into the fresh air where he could cleanse his mind and his nose and his entire gods-damn existence. Lucien had been hanging around a lot recently, trying and trying to make progress with Elain. Was it any wonder Az wanted to keep to himself? To put some distance between himself and the female that could have been his mate, but by some cruel twist of fate, wasn’t?

He immediately launched into the skies, the beat of his wings working out the restlessness that had begun to gather there. These solitary flights had been a reprieve recently, and he seemed to fly further and further away from Velaris every time.

The last two times, he’d found himself soaring over the mortal lands.

It seemed the only place far away enough to truly smother the scent of Elain and Lucien’s bond – as if the magic of Prythian kept it alive and potent in all corners of the land. But he’d discovered that venturing into mortal territory was enough for him to forget for a while, to put the sounds and smells of their bond to the back of his mind. And so he flew high over human villages, just a dark blot in the skies that no mortal sight could ever catch. 

His wings flapping furiously, he practically swam through the relentless winds, and continued on and on until he could feel that crackling, zipping line that divided the mortal and fae lands. For him, breaching into mortal territory had become a feeling akin to breaking the surface of water and taking a great gasp of air, allowing it to expand his burning lungs.

And the mortal air may have smelled of horse manure and coal and human blood, but it had begun to feel more bearable, more raw, than the essence of Lucien and Elain. 

As he had the last few times, Az pushed it further, further, allowing himself to fly freely without fear of straying too far. Rhys would probably call him reckless if he knew, but he was the Spymaster, the Shadowsinger. If he had to start worrying about humans hundreds of feet below him, there was a serious problem. 

He found himself soaring over land he’d never been to before – never had reason to explore the human lands this deeply. Below him, a tiny peasant village was cloaked in darkness – little stone buildings and huts with thatched roofs crowded the small, narrow bend of the village and sat in complete silence, their occupants no doubt already retired to bed. The hour was late. 

It was unremarkable – a dingy, impoverished village that could have been any of the hundred others he’d flown over. Nothing of note was happening, no petty human squabbles or drunken tavern fights to witness, to distract him for a while. 

He was just about to take off, fly somewhere else, when he heard it. 

It danced on the wind towards him, light and lilting and beautiful – music. Music coming from somewhere beneath him.

He stopped, allowing his wings to keep him aloft as he listened. Like no other music he’d ever heard, it seemed to reach out to him, to caress him. Tinkling notes that were being played on an instrument – a piano – and composing the most gentle, breathtaking tune he’d ever heard. 

Before he realised what he was doing, he was moving, banking, sweeping down closer to the sound. He needed to hear more, to have the music fill his ears. 

Nobody was around on the dark, cobbled street to sense him landing gracefully in a tree and perching himself within the branches. There, below him, just across the street, the music floated out from a small, run-down tavern. The sign above the door named it The Bluebird Inn.

Az followed the direction of the melody, allowing it to guide his eyes to the exact spot it was being played in. The dirty window on the lower left side of the building. 

It was only dim, poor candlelight that illuminated the scene behind the glass, and thank the Mother for fae eyesight, Az thought, because there was no way he’d have been able to make out the details without it.

A single candlestick sat atop a pianoforte, casting an orange glow on the young human woman that perched in front of it, her soft, delicate fingers dancing over the keys. 

Az’s breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t know why. 

But there was something so…pure about the scene, that kept the spymaster’s eyes glued to it, unable to look away. Something stunning and real and raw. The girl’s hair was unbound and flowing around her shoulders, her brow delicately pinched and lips slightly parted as she lost herself in the music she was playing. There was no sheet music in front of her – she played from memory, from heart. 

Azriel wanted to drown himself in the sound. In the climbing notes, the gentle melody. He wanted Feyre to paint the scene, capture the serenity of that human girl in a picture forever. 

He was so entranced by the sight and the sound that he jolted when the music abruptly stopped. 

A gruff, masculine voice shouted from somewhere in the tavern, and the human girl’s fingers slipped from the keys, her head snapping in the direction of the door. Her shoulders seemed to slump, and she stood, pushing the piano stool in and wandering out of sight.

And Az – for some reason entirely unbeknownst to him – continued to watch. 

In case the human came back.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ azriel tag list:

@hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn @localhopedealerr @pee-stachio @tobifeemo @torchbearerkyle @honeycriess @shadowsingersmate24 @azziessidehoe @camillo-420 @aztheshadowsinger @shadow-singer123

[goddessofvalyria]

Mr. & Mrs. Targaryen pt. 2 | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!oc

Summary: Aemond Targaryen is the CEO of the family business, the Targaryen Company and is part of the élite of the King's Landing Society. Daelia Targaryen is the rebellious daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. They meet at a gala, unaware of how that meeting will change things forever...

TW for all the story: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, the fem!oc is named Daelia Targaryen with long dyed black hair and purple eyes, kissing, sexual themes, dirty talking, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, masturbation (m and f) tits sucking/play, SMUT, sexual tension, sex, violence, guns, alcohol, drugs, angst, sad, death, murder, dark themes, Targcest (he is the uncle and she is the niece, they're Targaryen....) This is a modern Aemond in modern AU.

English is not my first language, be kind and enjoy the fic <3

Words: 3333

Previous part: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Next part: Chapter 3

As the elevator doors slide open to reveal Aemond's apartment, Daelia steps into a world of luxury and modernity. The space is a sleek, black-and-chrome masterpiece, every detail meticulously chosen, reflecting both elegance and power. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of King’s Landing at night, the city lights twinkling like stars beneath them. The air inside is cool, tinged with the faint scent of something exotic and expensive.

Daelia strides into the apartment with a casual confidence, her satin dress flowing around her like liquid silver. The fabric clings to her curves, leaving her back exposed in a way that draws Aemond’s eye immediately. At the bottom of her dress, he catches a glimpse of her Gucci black thong, a subtle but deliberate detail that makes his pulse quicken. She moves with the grace of someone completely at ease in her own skin, her every step as deliberate as the tilt of her head when she glances over her shoulder at him.

“There is a beautiful view from here” she murmurs, her voice soft as she gazes out over the city. Her tone is almost wistful, though laced with a hint of something deeper, something Aemond can’t quite place. But he doesn’t respond immediately. He’s too busy watching her, captivated by the way the lights outside play across her skin, the smooth expanse of her back, the way her hair falls just so over one shoulder. There’s an effortless sensuality about her that he finds both intriguing and dangerous.

Daelia turns around, and Aemond’s breath catches in his throat as he notices the complete lack of a bra beneath her dress. The fabric falls in such a way that leaves little to the imagination, the lines of her body clearly defined beneath the satin. She’s nonchalant, almost as if she’s unaware of the effect she’s having on him, but Aemond knows better. Everything about Daelia is calculated, deliberate, and tonight, she’s playing a game that he’s more than willing to join.

She crosses the room with the same languid grace, his giant dog, Vhagar, watching silently from a plush bed in the corner. The dog’s presence is imposing, but it’s clear that Vhagar is more guardian than pet, her eyes watching Aemond.

“Dragonstone is so boring” Daelia says suddenly, her voice tinged with frustration as she sinks onto the sofa. “It’s beautiful, sure, but there’s nothing to do. No one to see. Just endless, suffocating tradition...and family.”

Aemond moves closer, slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of a chair. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, the tension in the room thickening as he approaches her. He gestures to the seat next to him. “Sit with me” he says, his voice low and inviting.

Daelia hesitates for just a moment before she glides over, slipping off her heels with a sensual ease that doesn’t escape Aemond’s notice. She settles next to him, her body language both relaxed and charged, a dichotomy that keeps him on edge.

They talk, their conversation flowing easily, though underlined with a current of sexual tension that neither of them bothers to hide.

"You're different" Aemond said. "You too, uncle."

Daelia leans back against the sofa, her dress shifting to reveal more of her smooth skin. Aemond watches as the thin straps of her dress slide down her shoulders, and he can’t resist reaching out, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin, following the path of the delicate fabric.

She shivers slightly at his touch, but instead of pulling away, she leans into it, tilting her head to look at him. “Take off the eye patch fo me” she whispers, her voice barely audible but filled with a daring that sends a thrill through Aemond.

For a moment, he hesitates, the instinct to protect himself warring with the desire to give in to her request. But something in her eyes—something challenging and sincere—compels him to nod. With deliberate movements, he removes the leather patch, revealing the sapphire that replaces his missing eye, the jewel glinting in the low light of the room.

Daelia doesn’t flinch. Instead, she leans closer, her fingers tracing the scar that runs down his face, her touch featherlight but electrifying. “It’s sexy” she comments, her tone laced with genuine admiration.

Aemond can’t help the small, almost embarrassed smile that tugs at his lips. He’s used to people reacting with horror or pity, but never with the kind of fascination that Daelia is showing. “You think so?” he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

She nods, her eyes never leaving his as she continues to trace the line of the scar, her touch almost reverent. “You wear your scars like armor” she says softly. “But I think they make you more… real. More human.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, the air thick with something unspoken. Finally, Aemond breaks it, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why were you really at the gala tonight, Daelia?”

She meets his gaze, her fingers still lightly resting against his skin. Her expression softens, a rare vulnerability slipping through. “I wanted to see my favorite uncle again,” she replies, her tone light but with an underlying sincerity that makes Aemond’s chest tighten.

His breath hitches as she leans in, her lips just inches from his. Her eyes flicker down to his mouth before meeting his gaze again, and Aemond feels the last of his restraint slipping away.

“Is that all?” he murmurs, his voice rough with the need he’s been trying so hard to contain.

Daelia smiles, a slow, knowing smile that speaks of shared secrets and desires. “For now” she whispers before closing the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that’s both tender and searing, the culmination of all the tension that has been building between them since the moment they locked eyes across the ballroom.

As their lips meet, Aemond wraps his arms around her, pulling her close as the last of his resistance crumbles, lost in the intoxicating presence of the woman who has always been just out of reach.

Daelia closes the distance between them with a swift, deliberate motion, capturing Aemond's lips in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It's a passionate, searing kiss that ignites every nerve in his body, overwhelming him with the intensity of her touch. Her hands weave into his hair, pulling him closer as if she can't get enough, and Aemond feels a surge of something primal, something uncontrollable, rise within him.

He responds instinctively, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her onto his lap as the kiss deepens. There's nothing tentative about it now—it's all-consuming, a collision of desire and desperation that leaves them both breathless. The taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against his, sends his senses spiraling, and for a moment, he feels like he's drowning in her.

But then, just as he's about to lose himself completely, Daelia pulls back slightly, her lips still brushing against his. Aemond inhales sharply, trying to steady his breathing, but her presence, the scent of her, the warmth of her skin, makes it impossible to think clearly.

"My favorite uncle" she whispers against his lips, the words a soft, teasing caress that makes his chest tighten.

The phrase, so simple yet so charged, sends a shiver down his spine. It’s a reminder of who they are, of the history that binds them, yet it also speaks to the connection that has been simmering beneath the surface for years. Aemond’s hands tighten on her waist, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggles to find words, to ground himself in a moment that feels like it's slipping away from him.

But before he can speak, Daelia kisses him again, and this time, it’s even more fervent, more intense. Her lips move against his with a hunger that matches his own, and Aemond feels himself giving in, letting the heat of the moment consume him. The world around them fades, leaving only the two of them, locked in an embrace that is as fierce as it is forbidden.

Daelia begins to unbutton his shirt, her favorite uncle, has toned abs and a strong but soft chest. Almost angelic.. His v-line is defined and her eyes wandered to the hard bulge in his pants that presses under her thighs. Daelia remains to look at him in amazement, her hands touched the warm skin, she took off his shirt, His arms are long and veiny just like her hands, the muscles defined and toned.

"Undress me" she whispers kissing him on the lips, Aemond takes the dress in his hands and slips it off, over her head. She is almost naked, wearing only the Gucci thong, her breasts are large and toned, pressing against his chest.

The girl begins to move slowly against his hips, separating them only two strips of fabric. Daelia moans, she feels her panties getting wet, she is excited. Aemond tightens his grip on her hips with one hand, squeezing her breast with the other.

"I want to ruin you pretty girl" he whispers as their lips meet in another dirty and sexual kiss, Daelia bites his lip and continues to move on top of him. He is hard, almost painful. "Ruin me"

Aemond looks at her with his good eye and his middle finger slides between her thighs, pushing her panties aside and penetrating her. "Oh, uncle"

"Move your hips princess"

Daelia gasps and begins to move against the two fingers that are giving her pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside her is heavenly for both of them: Daelia is hot, soaking wet, soft and tight, Aemond is hard, aching as she moves on his fingers, riding them desperately, Aemond adds his thumb again, wanting to make sure her clit is not deprived of pleasure.

Daelia is consumed with pleasure, Aemond's fingers are pushing her to the limit and she finds herself pressed against him, their lips connected. "Aem-" her lips are captured in a kiss. "Shh, niece" Aemond hisses continuing to give her pleasure, he can't wait to sink between her thighs and lick her, make her his, so much so that he wants to have her there forever, every night warming his bed.  "Uncle, I''m-I''m close" she whispers, her eyes shining and Aemond makes her come on his fingers. 

“Ride my fingers pretty girl”

Daelia is tightened around him, the orgasm overwhelms her. Between her thighs she is soaking wet, sticky and Aemond finds himself holding a woman in his arms for the first time. 

"Shh" he whispers. Daelia trembles, she notices the bulge in his pants. "Can I do something for you, uncle?" Aemond who is known for being a man who takes everything he wants during sex, shakes his head. "Not tonight" he whispers kissing her temple. "I thought you wanted to fuck me" she teases. "We'll have time to do that too" Daelia, calmer now feels a wave of shame. She is naked, wearing only a thong.

Aemond hands her his shirt, covering her. "Do you want to take a shower?" he asks. "I thought you kicked women out of your house after..." Aemond looks at her. "Not you" he gets up from the couch, Daelia covers herself with his shirt. "You need a shower" he leads her to the bathroom.

She enters, the bathroom is huge and she thinks about what it would be like to have sex in that shower or ride him in the jacuzzi. She jumps when she feels him behind her. "For you" Aemond hands her his black Metallica t-shirt and leaves.

Daelia stands alone in the bathroom, the sound of the shower echoing in the sleek, modern space. The steam rises around her as she steps under the hot water, letting it cascade over her body, washing away the remnants of the night. Her mind is still racing from the intensity of what just happened, the feel of Aemond's lips on hers, the weight of his hands on her skin. But here, in the privacy of the shower, she allows herself a moment to breathe, to collect her thoughts.

After a while, she turns off the water and grabs a towel, drying herself off before reaching for some makeup remover she found on the counter. The brand is expensive, the kind of luxury item she imagines a woman with status might use—probably left behind by some woman Aemond was once engaged to or involved with. The thought sends a pang of something unidentifiable through her, but she pushes it aside, focusing instead on removing the last traces of mascara and lipstick from her face. 

Once her makeup is gone, Daelia’s reflection stares back at her from the mirror—barefaced, raw, and more vulnerable than she’s felt in a long time. She wear the t-shirt Aemond he gave her, it drapes over her body, soft and comforting. She slips it on, the fabric cool against her freshly showered skin. Even though she’s dressed, the fact that it’s his shirt, combined with the intensity of their shared moment, makes her feel exposed in a way she’s never experienced before.

Before leaving the bathroom, she washes her Gucci thong in the sink, wringing it out carefully before hanging it to dry on the hot radiator.

She finds Aemond in the living room, sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. The dim light casts shadows across his chiseled features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze as he watches her approach. The sight of him like this, relaxed yet still holding that aura of power, sends a thrill through her. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, just gestures for her to sit beside him again. The invitation is both casual and intimate, and she accepts, her bare feet padding softly across the cool floor as she moves to sit next to him. The leather of the couch is smooth beneath her, and she sinks into it, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers.

Aemond reaches for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, pulling one out and offering it to her. “A cig?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of that earlier tension still lingering.

Daelia takes the cigarette from him, her fingers brushing against his as she does. There’s a familiarity in the gesture, but also an underlying current of something more. He lights it for her, and she inhales deeply, the nicotine calming her nerves as she exhales a thin stream of smoke into the air.

Sitting here, so close to him, wearing nothing but his t-shirt, Daelia feels a mix of emotions. The power dynamics between them, the unspoken history, the raw attraction—it’s all there, simmering just beneath the surface. She glances over at Aemond, taking in the way he looks at her, his gaze intense and focused, as if he’s seeing every part of her, even the parts she tries to keep hidden.

Even though the moment feels charged, there’s also a strange sense of peace, as if for now, in this quiet space, they can just be themselves, without the weight of expectations or the shadows of their pasts looming over them. Daelia takes another drag of her cigarette, then leans back against the couch, feeling both vulnerable and strangely powerful in his presence.

Aemond reaches out, his hand resting lightly on her thigh, his touch warm and grounding. The silence between them is thick with unspoken words, but for now, neither of them feels the need to break it. They sit there, side by side, lost in their thoughts, the cigarette smoke curling up toward the ceiling as the night stretches on.

The room is steeped in a heavy silence, the only sound the faint crackling of the cigarette as Daelia takes another slow drag. The smoke curls up around her, hazy and delicate, as she speaks in a voice so soft, it’s almost a whisper.

“You were the first...” she murmurs, her eyes flickering down to the floor, unable to meet Aemond’s intense gaze. “The first kiss… the first to finger me.”

Aemond’s eyes widen slightly, though he tries to keep his expression neutral, the weight of her confession settling over him like a heavy cloak. “Were you… a virgin?” His voice is measured, careful, as if he’s treading on dangerous ground.

“I still am, you didn't fuck me” Daelia admits, her tone carrying a mix of defiance and vulnerability. She stands from the couch, the t-shirt she’s wearing—his t-shirt—falling loosely around her, making her seem both ethereal and exposed. “In the elite of King’s Landing, there are men from every house who ask my parents to be their bride.”

Aemond’s brow furrows as she continues, his mind racing to keep up with the implications of her words. But Daelia’s next confession stops him in his tracks.

“But I don’t want to get married, uncle...unless is you, Mr. Aemond Targaryen”

Aemond feels a twist in his chest, a mix of protectiveness and something darker, something he can’t quite name. He’s about to ask her why she’s telling him this when she turns to him, her eyes burning with an intensity that makes it clear she’s been holding something back.

“Why did you come here?” His voice is low, almost a growl, as if he’s bracing himself for whatever truth she’s about to reveal.

Daelia hesitates for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly as she takes another drag from her cigarette, the embers glowing bright in the dim light. “That was the truth” she says, exhaling smoke as she speaks, “But I hid part of it from you.”

Aemond’s gaze narrows, suspicion and curiosity warring within him. “What part?”

“I did it on purpose,” Daelia admits, her voice raw. “I thought that if you and I fucked, compromising me… maybe…” She trails off, her gaze dropping to the floor again, as if ashamed of the words she’s about to say. “Maybe I would have felt better about myself.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and charged, as Aemond processes what she’s just revealed. There’s a part of him that’s furious—furious at her for risking so much, and at himself for being drawn into this dangerous game. But there’s also a part of him that understands, a part that knows what it’s like to feel powerless and desperate to reclaim that power.

“My parents stopped me from seeing you,” Daelia continues, her voice growing stronger now, fueled by the emotions she’s kept bottled up for so long. "Do you remember? We when were younger… we were friends, but after the war that involved the family they said to me that you were a bad influence on me"

“And you like to break the rules” Aemond says, his tone accusatory yet laced with a hint of admiration. It’s something they share, this desire to defy expectations, to carve out their own paths in a world that tries to confine them.

“As you like to do, Aemond” she counters, her eyes meeting his with a challenge that sends a jolt through him.

In an instant, Aemond is on his feet, crossing the distance between them with purpose. He stands before her, his gaze locking onto hers, the air between them crackling with a tension that’s impossible to ignore. Slowly, deliberately, he leans in, pressing his lips to the soft skin of her neck. He kisses her there, a tender yet possessive gesture that makes Daelia’s breath hitch in her throat.

“Come to bed with me” he whispers against her skin, his voice low and thick with desire.

Daelia closes her eyes, the sensation of his lips on her neck sending shivers down her spine. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just lets herself feel—feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his words, the unspoken promise in his touch.

Finally, she opens her eyes and meets his gaze, her decision clear. She nods, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it’s enough. Aemond takes her between his arms and guide her to his bedroom.

[tototalks]

Three quarters through King’s Rising! 🛡️🗡️

This will probably be my second to last post covering the main story, and honestly what am I actually going to do with myself after the end of this trilogy? 🫠

- Laurent and Jokaste finally meeting each other girlboss to girlboss. Blonde bitch to blond bitch. I’m living for it. Feels like watching a game of chess.

- THE BABY!!! 😨 Hard to know if she’s telling the truth on this one. But I like that either way Laurent may be a schemer and plotter, but he will not put a child in harm’s way. (Personal headcanon that after he becomes king, he outlaws underaged pets and calls it ‘Nicaise’s Law’)

- “I’m just here.” - Damen has been through so much in such a short space of time. It makes sense he just feels numb as is burned out. He’s been endlessly supportive and needs that support reciprocated too.

- The entire conversation between Damen and Laurent finally being their true identities and selves. So so vulnerable and bare. Finally all out in the open with no more secrets. Being scared and doing it anyway. I adored this. ♥️

- I also love that they’re sexually passionate for each other. Laurent especially is finally getting to take charge of his own sexuality with someone he loves and trusts. Truly stellar writing throughout that whole scene. My heart aches in a good way this time. They can finally just be in love.🙂

- I can really get behind the idea of Auguste and Damen getting along really well had circumstances been different. I feel so robbed of the fact they never got to be brothers-in-law.

- Veretians will never not confuse me with their “your ankles are showing” fully laced and buttoned modesty contrasted to the whole “oh yeah the council view the consummation of marriage.” thing - poor Pallas lol.

- Watching Laurent and Damen banter and tease and smile and laugh is literally everything I wanted for them.

- Someone should tell Kyrina snitches get stitches.

- Jokaste: “he’s a snake.”

Damen (heart eyes): I know 🥰

- Damen seeing Laurent in Akielon clothing and fully Looney Tunes dropping a pitcher of water. Iconic. That’s your man, hun, take it in. You earned it!

- LAURENT DID NOT JUST PRETEND TO BE JOKASTE 😂😂😂😂😂

- Imagine being Nikandros and trying to give your friend some advice to take his best rider on their next Metal Gear Solid mission only for said friend’s feral albino cat who hates you to butt in and declare himself just that person. Wild. Someone help Nik.

- I love that every time something goes down everyone is like “well Kastor is dumb af so this must be Jokaste’s doing.” As 👏 she 👏 should 👏

- “Is this how you do things in Vere?” “What? Effectively?” Lol okay Elle Woods

- The Akielons and Veretians bonding around the fire. There is hope for peace.🥺

- LAZAR AND PALLAS??!! I AM IN FULL SUPPORT!! (I did this with Jord and Aimeric too, so please turn out better than that, I beg.)

- As someone in an intercultural and interracial relationship, I love that Laurent and Damen can rib each other about the differences in their customs and laugh about it while also showing each other the best of it. Accurate and sweet ♥️

- And off we go through Akeilos!! I am so excited for the final chapters! 🥰

[andrews-jort-loving-pipe-dream]

You know what I find funny? Okay, so, during the scene where Neil is like "oh my god Andrew do you like me" and Andrew is like "no, I hate you, but I'd totally blow you if you asked."

While that is going on all I can imagine is Aaron in the background just dancing like a grace less potato. All limbs, no rhythm, dancing likes it's no tomorrow, oblivious to the fact that his brother just admitted to his worst nemesis that he'd blow him (basically that he likes Neil in the most Andrew way possible), and that amuses me to no end.

It's just...

Andrew and Neil: *having a sexually charged conversation*

Aaron: *in the background*

[greenqueenhightower]

Alicole are the worst people to carry on a secret affair.

Gwayne has been there 2 seconds and has already picked up on something between them because they have big brown eyes that they use to have conversations and because they’re having a passive aggressive lovers quarrel in the backyard, then exchanging favors while looking around to make sure no one is watching them.

I can’t wait for Aegon and Aemond to rub their 2 brain cells together and figure it out too. I can just imagine Aegon falling back into a milk of the poppy coma but hearing them talk and he’s like “WHAAAAT?!” but he can’t really vocalize anything so they think he’s reacting to pain or discomfort.

Alicole’s tension was so good too, you could feel that if he wasn’t riding off to war that day, they would’ve been back in bed that night and then repeating the cycle all over again the next day.

That's so true, anon 💚

I think Gwayne is much like Otto in this matter: his antennas are always on alert and he never fails to pick up signals. He has definitely suspected the affair and Alicent and Criston are indeed so bad at hiding it that it's ridiculous lol.

Perhaps Gwayne just knows his sister so well and remembers how awe-struck she was at Criston during the tourney? (I would love that detail actually). Or he just knows that Criston is her type and his "big brother" instincts kick in and he's thinking: "wait a second, my sister could totally have the hots for you" which I'd also love.

Aegon and Aemond would be too focused on their own failed bromance and rivalries to notice but when they do find out, their reactions will be hilarious because Aegon will laugh it out in his slumber thinking: "finally! I've been shipping you two since forever!" and Aemond will have a fit and maybe burn down some villages as a result.

Criston's departure and Alicent giving him her favor were definitely charged with sexual tension, especially how Criston longed for Alicent's touch and how their fingers slid against each other. And those looks full of longing, oh yeah, they'd be definitely slapping and fucking again if there was no crowd around.

[genderkoolaid]

On April 27, 2023, an armed security guard shot and killed a Black trans man named Banko Brown outside of a San Francisco Walgreens. Brown’s killing sparked outrage. But San Francisco District Attorney Brooke Jenkins decided not to charge the security guard who shot him, saying that he acted in self-defense. And just last Friday, Attorney General Rob Bonta’s office announced that it supported that decision.  This announcement has crushed Banko Brown’s loved ones, including those who say that his killing was an example of the conditions that unhoused transgender people face in San Francisco. KQED reporter Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez sits down with Brown’s chosen family, to discuss life as a homeless queer person in San Francisco, and Banko’s life before his death. [...]

Kazani Kalani Finao: [...] We just had amazing, great conversations. Just always sparring with each other, bouncing back with, like, fun ideas. He uses a bright, outgoing apartment. Conversation was always immaculate, always amazing. Of he was a visionary. The struggle not only brought us together, but like I was able to, like, really build a relation with him based on, like, his gifts. He was very creative, his swag, his drip, like he was a trendsetter to me. He’s definitely inspirational to me to like, you know, him, me younger to me, like I always share with him. Like, bro, you give me so much confidence, you give me so much courage for me to be me. He didn’t even know it. But again, he was just natural at that. Whatever I remember of him is his drips, sauce, smile, hugs, goofiness. [...]

Xavier Davenport: Banko never had a space of his own. Banko had been in and out of shelter, in and out of people’s homes, sometimes even some people’s own [SROs]. So let’s really break down what that really looks like when you are living in a one room space with another individual. You do not have privacy. Nine times out of ten, being a transmasculine identif[ied] person, especially being black, you have to render some type of services to stay there, whether it be sexual, whether it be drugs. So when we talk about black men and being fetishized, Banko dealt with a lot of that. And so those people would be the people to take him in. [...]

Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: And can we talk a little bit about Banko in terms of the safety? You know, obviously Banko went through the least safe thing you could imagine with the most terrible outcome you can imagine. What was Banko experiencing in terms of safety during this whole process? Xavier Davenport: Banko was actually experiencing a lot of issues with violence happening in some of the places that he was trying to stay at. Nobody’s perfect, you know, especially when we’re talking about community, right? People have all kinds of issues and trauma that they are that they’re trying to live through as well. I definitely know that there were a few times where, you know, he was upset from violent experiences that had taken place. And what we all do, right, we get upset, we want to do something about it. So, you know, really trying to calm him down to, like, see a different side of it, for him to just move through the trauma that he was experiencing. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: Yeah. And I don’t know how much you all followed kind of the public discussion of what happened to Banko afterwards. A lot of what I heard was a kind of a questioning of like, what did [Banko]’s trans identity or black trans identity have to do with the shooting, especially when the security guard themselves was was black. I wonder if you could talk a bit about for people who don’t understand what does [Banko]’s black trans identity have to do with what brought him there that day and what happened? [...] Xavier Davenport: [...] What what that all has to do with is when you are a young, black, transmasculine identified person, people see that he walks in, he’s dark skinned, he has a hat on a t shirt, he has a little bit of a, like a goatee or, you know, something growing in. And as another black man or being another man, there is a fight for power for who is the man. [F]or Banko, you know, the thought process is, you look like a little boy or you’re trying to pretend to be a little boy. Because let’s be clear, Banko had not had, you know, top surgery. He had not been going through that part of of medical transitioning. So you have a masculine person with visible breast coming at you. You are going to now struggle for your manhood. I’m going to show you who’s boss is something that for people that are even lesbians who are more masculine looking, [t]here is a struggle between men and any form of masculinity that they can see to them isn’t necessarily real. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: So it’s a it’s like a challenge. Xavier Davenport: It is a challenge. It very much is a challenge. I know this first experience. I have dealt with this my entire life. JuJu Pikes-Prince: And if I can just highlight that it’s true. And these are cases that’s not getting covered [...] of Black Trans Men getting killed. [...]

Xavier Davenport: [...] I would say what needs to change is the systems in how they construct homelessness. There needs to be shelters specific for transmasculine folks. There needs to be shelters for trans people, period. But trans men need their own space. There needs to be more black, trans masculine leaders. There’s nobody else that can speak about black transness except for black trans people. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: And how about the joy? What is your joy look like right now? Xavier Davenport: My joy looks like, you know, the rest of the work that I do. The Bay Area Transmasculine calendar is doing a second premiere of a calendar that we started last year with a group of Transmasculine folks to continue to ensure that Transmasculine folks are seen and can receive joy in seeing and having representation of themselves in all bodies, in all forms of trans masculine bodies, and in all forms of trans masculine and different cultures and ethnicities. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: That’s beautiful. JuJu Pikes-Prince: [F]iguring out the funding, figuring out where money can go to. I definitely believe that there should be more programs for black trans men, even from our community. My [femme queens, my dolls]. We need to serve our [kings], our [trans kings.] [Sorry], I’m getting emotional. And it’s because I’m thinking about the joy part. [L]iving and finding purpose. Picking up someone else’s purpose when they couldn’t find their purpose. And knowing that I’m here and I can also at least set some type of story for someone [...] and hopefully help another next person, next generation to continue to do this advocacy work.

[roxxie-wolf]

𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20's, Alastor is in his early 30's, you still live with your parents idk. If I forgot anything else please let me know.

Note: I know this is taking a while, but we will get there eventually. Im sorry 😭

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟩

The morning air was crisp, carrying the promise of a new day as you walked through the town. The thought of seeing Alastor again sent a mix of anticipation and nerves through you. Each step, each cafe and store you entered, was with the hope of catching a glimpse of him, of confirming that the connection you felt was not just a figment of your imagination.

And then, there he was, engaged in conversation with another man. You froze, your gaze locked onto Alastor, tracking his every move as he and the man made their way to a nearby cafe. A part of you wanted to turn away, to respect his privacy, but the pull was too strong. You followed at a distance, questioning your own actions. *Am I becoming obsessed with him? Am I stalking him?* The thoughts were unsettling, yet you couldn't deny the draw he had on you.

With a deep breath, you entered the cafe, your eyes scanning the room until they found Alastor. He was seated, still deep in conversation, unaware of your presence. You chose a table further away, a silent observer to the scene unfolding before you.

Minutes passed, and a woman entered, her confident stride taking her straight to Alastor's table. The way she greeted him, the familiarity of their interaction, sparked a surprising pang of jealousy within you. It was an emotion you hadn't expected to feel, especially so soon, and it left you questioning the intensity of your feelings.

From your secluded spot, you watched, a tumult of emotions swirling within you. The desire to approach warred with the need to maintain a respectful distance. For now, you remained seated, a silent witness to the life of a man who had, in a short time, become an enigma you were desperate to understand.

Alastor's departure from his company seemed almost cinematic, the way his gaze swept across the cafe before finding you. His smile, wide and unguarded.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said to his companions, his voice carrying just enough to reach your ears. There was a grace to his movements, a confidence that came from knowing exactly where he wanted to be.

As Alastor navigated through the maze of tables, his smile never wavered. You pretended to be engrossed in the world outside the window, the bustling street providing a convenient distraction. But you could feel his approach, the air seemed to charge with an electric anticipation.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to see you again darling”you heard his soothing voice, your heart immediately started to race in your chest. The way he always calls you dear or darling making your cheeks flushed. You turn to look at him “Hello, Alastor I didn't see you there," your voice steadier than you felt. "It's been a while."

“Indeed, it has. I must say, I've missed our little encounters my dear." You couldn't help but smile, despite the fluttering in your chest.

He pulled out the chair next to you, the scrape of wood against tile breaking the hush of whispered conversations. "May I?" You nodded, and he sat down, close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne.

"What brings you to this side of town?" you inquired, genuinely curious.

Alastor leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief behind his glasses. "I was in search of something, but it seems I've found something even more intriguing," gesturing subtly towards you. You smiled rolling your eyes playfully.

“Well I was wondering if you wanted to come to my home sometime for dinner” The invitation hung in the air between you, a delicate offer that could tilt the balance of your relationship with Alastor. His eyes, bright with that ever-present mischief, softened slightly.

"Your home?" he echoed, the words laced with a playful curiosity. “Now, that is an intriguing proposition, ma cherie."

You met his gaze squarely, the playful roll of your eyes replaced by a look of earnest. "Yes, my home. I think it's time we moved past these chance encounters in cafes and streets."

Alastor's expression turned thoughtful, a rare moment of vulnerability flashing across his features before he masked it with a grin. "I would be honored to accept your invitation" his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart skip a beat.

"Shall we say this weekend?" you ventured, the idea of hosting Alastor both exciting and nerve-wracking.

He nodded, "This weekend it is dear. I'll bring some food, I’ll prepare it myself," he declared, the twinkle returning to his eyes.

"Oh no, it's okay, don't trouble yourself, Alastor," you insisted, the thought of him going to such lengths for you stirring a warmth within.

"I'll prepare some food," determined to take care of the details yourself. It was the least you could do after all the thoughts he had occupied in your mind.

“Well in that case, I’ll help you, darling," his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that spoke volumes.

“Alright then, that sounds great," the excitement evident in your voice. The thought of working side by side with him, sharing tasks and laughter, made the prospect of the weekend all the more thrilling. The kitchen would become your canvas, and Alastor's offer to help was the brushstroke that completed the picture.

The moment lingered, a comfortable silence falling between you as he leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours. "Would you like me to walk you home, darling?" The term of endearment sending a familiar warmth through you.

You paused, the image of your parents at home flashing through your mind. "No, it’s ok, I’ll go on my own," not ready to introduce Alastor into that part of your life just yet.

Alastor nodded, understanding without needing further explanation. "Alright then, I won’t pressure you, dear, but please do be careful," his voice low, laced with a hint of concern.

"Thank you, I’ll be alright. See you on the weekend, Alastor," you smiled, a mix of gratitude and fondness in your farewell. You stood, the movement marking the end of one encounter and the beginning of the sweet wait for another.

As you parted ways that day, the echo of his voice was a gentle caress and the promise of the weekend hung like a melody in your mind, a tune you couldn't wait to explore.

——————————————

The sight of your father on the porch was a familiar one, a scene that spoke of quiet evenings and gentle conversations. "Hello, father," you greeted, the smile on your face a reflection of the day's pleasant memories.

"How was your day?" his voice carrying the weight of simple parental concern.

"It was great," the word 'great' feeling like an understatement for the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced. But you weren't ready to share the details of your encounter with Alastor, not yet.

"Where's mom?" you inquired, looking around for the familiar figure of your mother.

"Oh, she's speaking with the neighbors," your father responded, his gaze fixed on some distant point, a sign that his thoughts were elsewhere.

You nodded, understanding the unspoken words that hung in the air. Your father was a man of few words, but his presence was a steady comfort. With a final glance at the peaceful street, you stepped inside, the warmth of home enveloping you.

The decision to cook now or wait for your mother weighing on your mind. “Hey dad, are you hungry?” stepping outside to where your father sat.

He looked up at you, his nod a silent answer. “Are you going to wait for your mother?” his voice carrying the calm of the evening.

You considered his question for a moment. “Well, if you’re hungry, I can cook now,” you offered, the gentle tone of your voice mingling with the sounds of the settling evening.

“It’s ok, I can wait for your mother. How about you?” a gentle smile spreading across his face. You thought for a moment. “I think I’ll wait and I can help her with dinner?”, your voice barely above a whisper, as if to not disturb the peace.

Your father’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, a silent acknowledgment of your words. And so, you waited, the two of you sitting side by side, watching the sky change colors as the day gave way to night. The air was filled with the chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves.

The night unfolded with a gentle rhythm, the arrival of your mother adding the final note to the day's melody. Her hurried steps and apologetic words were met with the calm understanding of your father, his smile a silent reassurance that all was well. “I’m so sorry I got carried away and stayed far too long.” Your mother had a worried expression on her face.

"It's ok sweetheart, we were just waiting for you," the affection in his voice wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

"Well, let's all go inside then," your mother suggested, her actions swift as she stepped into the house, the worry on her face melting away with each familiar step.

You did the same your father followed, the door closing behind your dad with a soft click, a signal that the outside world was left behind for now. Your father took his place in the living room, a quiet sentinel as the sounds of dinner preparation began to fill the house.

Together, you and your mother moved in the kitchen's dance, the clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of onions in the pan, the fragrant steam rising from boiling pots. The kitchen was alive with the symphony of dinner preparations, a duet performed by you and your mother.

The meal's conclusion brought a comfortable silence, a testament to the satisfaction and contentment that comes from a shared family dinner. You moved with practiced ease, clearing the table and washing the dishes, the warm water a soothing end to the day's activities.

As the last plate was dried and put away, the kitchen restored to its pre-dinner calm, you could feel the gentle closure of the evening's familial ritual. With everything clean and in its place, you had a moment to yourself, a quiet end to a day.

You headed upstairs to your room and took a shower. Refreshed from the shower and dressed in the comfort of your familiar clothes, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. The fabric against your skin was a gentle reminder of the day's transition from the unexpected excitement to the soothing routine of home life.

Now, in the soft embrace of the night, you had the space to breathe and the time to prepare for the rest of the night. Whether it was to read a book, or simply sit with your thoughts, the quiet hours ahead were yours to shape as you pleased.

🌸𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈🌸 🌸𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉🌸

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time.^^ I do try to proofread but if I missed something please let me know.

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖

TAGLIST: @magictoebean @little-slyvixen @bitchywitchygardener @diffidentphantom @catticora

[stargirlie25]

Me having a conversation with an e/riel. Feel free to fact check by looking at the books.

Me: Why do you ship Elain and Azriel?

E/riel: Well for starters, he was the only one to go save Elain when she was in hybern.

Me: First of all, Cassian offered first. Second of all Feyre was also there and saved her (what Elain said)

E/riel: Ok but still it was romantic

Me: But it was not. Because her sister ALSO saved her :) Feyre went to UTM and got tortured,SAed,killed people and died all for Tamlin anyhow...

E/riel: Well Madja said a mate knows whats wrong with their own mate and Az figured out that Elain was a seer.

Me: Elain being a Seer was not what was wrong with her. Also Rhysand figured out Nestas power.

E/riel: Az gave Elain truthteller when he had given it to no one ever.

Me: Only because Mor begged him with tears in her eyes to stay back. Cassian offered her first (again) and then Az offered her TT bc he would not have to use it. Not to mention, Elain only took it when Feyre assured her she would not have to use it. She gave it back without a glance

E/riel: Well Feyre imagined Elain and Az as ´´Death and his lovely fawn´´

Me: Okay. Well did you also catch when she said TT is the only connection between them? Not to mention something admirable about Elain is that she is always full of light. What literally takes away Light? Darkness=Azriel. Not to mention, Azriel is death and his home sucks the life from Elain. Not that Feyres aesthetic painting mind matters anything to me :)

E/riel: What about the fact that Lucien thought Elain was crazy?

Me: What about the fact when he travelled all around to find somebody on a quest so dangerous and the only confirmation he got was from Elain?

E/riel: Elain was wearing Cobalt blue the first time she met Az.

Me: Considering Elains devotion to Graysen, there is a high chance of her wearing that color for Graysen because his crest is cobalt blue. Even if its not true, Lucien wears a coat that´s fawn brown (exact same shade of Elains eyes)

E/riel: A smile and blush bloomed on Azriel in regards to Elain.

Me: Dont care. Thats just an action. Although since you say that, did you know that a smile bloomed on Elains face after her father died (who she loved dearly) in regards to Lucien?

E/riel: What about when a charged glance went through Elain and Azriel.

Me: Sexual attraction. Lots of characters have it like Feyre and tamlin,Aelin and Chaol,Azriel to Mor....

E/riel: Well, Azriel jacks off to Elain every night while looking at the gift he got for her.

Me: Dont be shy you dont have to say a gift. You can say he jacks off to headache powder. No problem. Almost like when Nesta slept with multiple men. Trust me, that does not affect me!

E/riel: Elriel is true mates because Az was the only one to smell Eluciens bond.

Me: Bryce smelled Nessians bound, Ruhn and Lidia smelled bryce and hunts bond, Tamlin smelled feysands.

E/riel: Gwyn is a lightsinger because Az chest sparked because of her.

Me: Well than ig Lidia and Bryce are lightsingers too. Get those evil bitches away from Hunt and Ruhn right?

E/riel: There is nothing romantic for Gwynriel

Me: Thats literally just your penny for thought. Why would i care when SJM provided common banter, mate language and history for Gwynriel, and scenes where they challenge each other when she said history,sparks,conflict,and challenge all makes a good couple.

E/riel: Elain gave two gifts to Az. Not lucien

Me: Headphones for Az bc Nesta and Cass fuck so loud? So romantic i cant! Im so glad my girl SJM is saving the good,meaningful gifts for Elucien.

E/riel: Az waited for Elain to come to the table and told everybody to not eat until Elain came back.

Me: he was thinking of his mother being a slave. Thats what the situation of eating when Elain was tending to everyone reminded him of. How his mother was treated. Its not romantic but it is a very sad thing to think about.

E/riel: Azriel loves Elain. He only has not thought about a future with her because he does not allow himself to!

Me: Honestly i don´t mind that you think that! Although that is not canon. Sleeping with Elain is the only thoughts he PLEASURED himself to. Not allowed himself as some say. Again, that´s just your penny for thought. He says ´´He hadn't gone that far with his planning´´ Meaning sexual thoughts is fine but anything further is like nope, nope,nope,nope,nope too far.

E/riel: Elain literally loses her newfound boldness around Lucien.

Me: There is so many more reasons that we could come up with than what meets the eye. Have you considered it was because she didnt know what to do. Or she saw the look on Lucien ´ s face and shrank because she did not intentionally cause it and felt bad? Or maybe she FELT Luciens pain and shared it because of the bond? So much possibilities to think of especially considering we have limited text and not the actual characters POV. Also i wonder how far she will shrink when she finds out about Az and Rhysands conversation in the bonus chapter. Or maybe she heard it already?

E/riel: Azriel actually gets Elain.

Me: The way he literally does not though! When Elain begs the IC not to kill graysen Az says its best for him to be killed in acosf. When Elain says nesta cant make choices for her and then Az says she should not be exposed to the innate darkness even though later we figure out Elain is willing? When Elain says she is not a child to be fought over and than Az says he will defeat Lucien in a blood duel with her?

E/riel: Scrying is dangerous! Of course Azriel did not want her too.

Me: Yet, he said ´´Nesta really should do scrying´´ but not Elain because he underestimates her. Which is the ONLY thing SJM provides to what Az could have been doing.

E/riel: Azriel listened to Elains laugh probably because he loves the sound!

Me: Maybe its because Elain never ever laughs like that around him or the ic He was literally monitoring them which means to keep tabs on someone which directly relates to his fricking job 😂. So many words to choose from and SJM chose monitoring.

E/riel: Az gave Elain a rose necklace.

Me: Ok and? Elain gave it back. She does not want that shit. He gave it to another person. It felt wrong to clasp it around Elains neck but it sparked something in his chest and made him smile for Gwyn.

E/riel: Lucien only sees Elain for his mate but Azriel sees her for her.

Me: Nope. His reason for wanting to kiss Elain was simply ´´What fi the cauldron was wrong´´ and refers to Elain as the 3rd. She is literally a theory or more so a possibility to him. One he has not thought through in the slightest. Also, Lucien was going crazy in hybern in regards to Elain before he knew of their bond AND Elain has not accepted the bond yet he still cares for her.

E/riel: Elain called Azriels scars beautiful.

Me: first of all, its a 50% chance she called his scars beautiful. Feyre said she was not sure which one she was complimenting, the scars, or the big glowing cobalt siphon atop his hand. Second of all, even if it was 100% fact that she said his scars specifically was beautiful, it seems he does not believe it at all. He tries to not to look at his hands. He does not want to taint her with his presence or touch her beautiful skin with his scars.

E/riel: His shadows vanish around Elain and lightens. They also do that around mor who he was in love with for 500 years. Also his shadows are like snakes ready to strike in regards to Elain.

Me: Shadows lighting and vanishing are the same thing. Light takes away darkness as darkness takes away light (another reason why they are horrible together) His shadows are losing its darkness around Elain and Mor. Mor was wrong for him. The amount of pain it caused him to be in Love with her? Want that to continue with Elain and Az? Azriel does not need his darkness to be hidden. He needs it to be embraced *insert Gwyn*

E/riel: SJM would never pass on a good angsty trope like forbidden love!

Me: firstly, the only thing forbidding e/riel is Elain herself. If she rejects the bond, she can be with Az all she wants and NO ONE has a say on that. Not Rhysand. Not feyre. Not cassian. Not Lucien himself. Although she hasnt after 2 years. There is an answer to why. Its not like Elain knows she has to wait until her own book to reject it. Second of all, Forbidden love is the absolute WORST trope to give BOTH of them. For Elain, she has always hid in the shadows of her sisters in the series and the fandom. You really think Elain Archeron always full of light wants to hide in the darkness and play out Azriel´s fantasies? As for Azriel, he has been secretly silently in PAIN loving Mor for 500 years. So you want him to go through it again with Elain? No. He wants the bond nessian and feysand have. The love they share. The joy of being with your equal. The connection of a mating bond. Being proud to showcase it to the world. Forbidden love would just tear them apart.

E/riel: SJM does not write about virgin romances! Plus Gwyn is a virgin!

Me: Yes she can. Gwyn already lost her virginity against her will so biologically she is not going through the bleeding and the actual losing her physical virginity. Although it is a fact she has never slept with someone. The scene where Cassian *ahem* first enters nesta is very descriptive and SJM describes the pain of Cassian entering her......So yes she can for sure write about Gwyn having sex. This is also goes against the statement that Gwyn cant have sex because of her trauma. False. She is interested in romance books and asks Nesta if the sex was good. I think Gwyn would enjoy sex with someone she trusts in and out.