#starting to look a bit more regal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fvsm4x · 4 months ago

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𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 (you) !

synopsis. Prince Satoru has just come of age, and it’s tradition in his kingdom for the crown prince to be presented with potential suitors. Despite his power and prestige, he’s lived a life of strict rules and sheltered isolation, knowing little about romance and even less about pleasure. His parents arrange for a tutor to guide him on how to properly fuck and pleasure a partner

+ warnings/content. Prince! Gojo S. + tutor fem! reader - satoru is a virgin and inexperienced - virginity lose - p in v - feral gojo a bit - royal au - gojo has a big dick - oral (fem. receiving) - fingering - size difference a bit - gojo is pussydrunk - shy/soft gojo

+ word count. 9.1k (Oppsie daisy)

a/n. This is prolly one of my favs works so I HOPE U LIKE IT

banner by unknown (tell me if u know from who it is!!)

The doors to Prince Satoru’s chambers loomed before you, tall and intricately carved, a testament to the wealth and grandeur of the palace. Your fingers hovered just above the handle, and you took a steadying breath, reminding yourself of the role you were about to step into. The position was an unusual one, to say the least—both highly honored and slightly scandalous, whispered about only behind closed doors and far from the ears of the public.

When the queen had summoned you, you’d expected to be given a task of courtly refinement—perhaps tutoring Prince Satoru in diplomacy or etiquette, something befitting his status. But the court had other plans. Prince Satoru was soon to come of age, and despite his immense power and status, he had led a remarkably sheltered life. Royal duty dictated that he was to be groomed for the throne, but there was more to kingship than formalities and court rituals. To make matters more complicated, it was tradition that the crown prince be well-versed in… more intimate knowledge.

And so, here you were—his tutor for this secret, delicate subject. The court deemed it crucial that Satoru gain a proper understanding of how to navigate romantic and physical intimacy, skills thought essential to his future rule. And though this education would be handled with the utmost discretion, the weight of it wasn’t lost on you. This was about more than teaching the young prince; it was about shaping the experiences that would prepare him for life, even if it meant starting with things he’d never before dared to touch

One of the royal guards gave you a nod, signaling that the prince awaited inside, and with that final reassurance, you pushed open the heavy doors.

The room was grand, adorned with tapestries of deep blue and golds, velvet curtains framing the windows to keep prying eyes out. Soft candlelight bathed the chamber, casting warm, flickering shadows that seemed to make the room feel smaller, more intimate. And there, in the midst of it all, stood Prince Satoru.

He looked as regal as ever, his white hair falling around his shoulders in soft waves that caught the light, yet his expression was tense, the lines of his jaw just slightly taut as he took in your arrival. He stood tall, shoulders straight, but there was a nervous energy about him, a flicker of uncertainty in his piercing blue eyes. For all his power, he was, in this moment, simply a young man facing something entirely foreign.

He looked almost hesitant, his fingers curling at his sides as he took a few tentative steps forward.

“Are you… the tutor?” he asked, his voice soft but clear.

You bowed, folding your hands in front of you. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m honored to serve you.”

He returned your bow with a slight nod, his gaze hesitant but unwavering. “Thank you for coming,” he replied, his voice quiet and just a little rough around the edges. After a pause, he continued, “And please— call me satoru.”

You blinked at him before replying,“of course, Satoru.“

He continued,“I understand you’re here to… teach me certain things

There was a vulnerability to his words, as if he were admitting some private, embarrassing truth, and you felt a flicker of sympathy. “Yes,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I’m here to help you learn at your own pace. We don’t have to rush anything. It’s perfectly normal to have questions, and we can take things one step at a time.”

He let out a breath, and a faint, almost sheepish smile flickered across his lips. “That’s… good to know,” he murmured. “To be honest, I’m not sure where to begin. I’ve read about some of it—romance, intimacy—but it always seemed… different in stories. Simpler. Or maybe more dramatic.” He paused, then quickly added, “But I have no practical experience. I don’t even know what’s expected of me.”

Was he really that inexperienced?

It was hard for you to believe. Prince Satoru was strikingly attractive, with an air of confidence that most people would expect from someone well-versed in such matters. Yet here he was, seeming genuinely lost. You’d have guessed he at least knew the basics—how to start, how to read a moment. But the way he looked at you, the way his questions hovered in the air with such uncertainty, made it clear that he truly knew next to nothing.

You nodded, taking in his words. “That’s perfectly alright,“

Satoru’s gaze flicked away, almost as if embarrassed by his own curiosity. “It’s strange. I’m supposed to lead a kingdom, yet I feel so… out of place when it comes to this.” His eyes returned to yours, vulnerable but resolute. “It feels almost… childish, not knowing these things.”

You smiled gently. “It’s not childish at all, satoru. You’ve been raised in a very particular way, with rules and responsibilities that few can understand. Besides, being inexperienced doesn’t make you any less capable.”

He studied you closely, his intense blue eyes absorbing your words, as if testing their weight before trusting them. There was a softening in his expression, a subtle shift from wary curiosity to a quiet resolve. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… where do I start? What do I need to know?”

Slowly, you stepped closer, letting him feel your presence before you closed the distance entirely. Your hand hovered in the air, close enough for him to notice, but not so close as to assume his permission. “May I?” you asked, your tone gentle but firm, a reassurance that he was in control of every moment.

He seemed caught off guard, his gaze briefly dropping to your hand before meeting your eyes again. There was a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps a bit of nervous anticipation—but he nodded, his voice soft yet steady. “Of course.”

You reached forward, your fingers just grazing his hand, warm and slightly tense under your touch. Slowly, you guided his hand toward your waist, resting it there carefully. His fingers settled against you, his grip hesitant but steady. His hand was large, enveloping the curve of your waist, and the warmth of his skin seeped through the fabric, grounding both of you in this small, shared moment.

Satoru’s hand flexed, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft give of your waist. His touch was cautious, like he was still testing the sensation, and you could feel him catch his breath. His eyes flickered down, watching his own hand as if seeing it in this position was almost surreal. Then his gaze lifted to yours, his expression a mix of awe and a little self-consciousness, like he was realizing just how new all of this felt to him.

For a moment, time seemed to still, the air thick with something unspoken. His fingers remained gently on your waist, his grip firm but careful. His eyes held yours, searching for something—maybe understanding, maybe comfort.

You felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes lingered on you, his expression searching, as if trying to find reassurance or perhaps permission. His attention felt heavy, intense, and you could feel your cheeks warming, a faint blush creeping over you. You forced yourself to brush it aside, focusing on him, on the quiet yet clear connection between you.

Drawing a breath, you leaned in, rising onto your toes until your face was just inches from his. Your eyes dropped to his lips, your gaze lingering there for just a second too long, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His eyes fluttered shut, and his fingers dug slightly into your waist, pulling you in closer with an unexpected urgency. Your breaths mingled in the narrow space between you before his lips met yours in a rush of movement.

The kiss was messy, uncoordinated, almost clumsy in its eagerness. His lips pressed hard against yours, his movements lacking the practiced finesse of experience but carrying a raw intensity that made up for it. He kissed you with an almost desperate enthusiasm, his lips parting messily against yours, the faint taste of his breath mingling with your own. There was a wetness to the kiss, his inexperience clear in the way he seemed to lose himself, following only instinct rather than skill. He kissed you with unabashed need, a little too much spit and an endearing awkwardness in the way his mouth moved against yours.

You could feel his inexperience, the way he struggled to find a rhythm, his lips and tongue a bit too eager, too messy. But there was a certain sweetness to it, a sincerity that made the kiss feel even more intimate. It was unrefined, almost childlike in its enthusiasm, yet it was deeply honest—a kiss from someone exploring a world he’d never known, trying to understand it one uncertain step at a time.

Slowly, you brought your hand up to his face, brushing your fingers along his jawline, gently guiding him to slow down. You felt his breathing hitch at the soft touch, and his lips stilled for a moment, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. His gaze held a mixture of surprise and something more vulnerable—a spark of uncertainty, as though he was asking if he was doing things right.

“You’re doing just fine,” you whispered, your words a gentle reassurance. You could see the tension ease from his expression, the smallest hint of relief softening his gaze. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gave you a shy smile that felt so out of place on someone as commanding as him, yet so fitting in this moment.

With your guidance, he leaned in again, his movements now a bit more measured, a touch gentler. His lips met yours with newfound purpose, still a little messy, but now slower, as though savoring each second. This time, he lingered, allowing the kiss to unfold naturally, his lips brushing against yours with a sweet, unhurried warmth.

Your hands slid to rest on his shoulders, fingers tracing the lines of his frame, feeling the subtle tremor under his skin as he let himself fall into the moment. The kiss grew deeper, a quiet exploration, as though he were learning you, learning this intimacy he’d never experienced before. And in that moment, it felt like there was only the two of you—caught in this delicate exchange, each touch building a fragile new understanding.

After a long, breathless pause, he drew back, his expression softened yet still intense, eyes clouded with newfound desire. His lips, now slightly swollen from the kiss, parted as he looked at you, as if searching for something—permission, maybe, or reassurance. His hand remained at your waist, fingers tightening gently, grounding himself in the unfamiliar intimacy that had formed between you.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was harder, more confident than before, as though the hesitation had melted away. His hands slid down your waist, fingers tracing the shape of your body until they reached the back of your thighs. In one smooth movement, he lifted you, his strength evident as he held you firmly. A gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support as he carried you with ease.

Your back met the cool, solid surface of the wall, and you felt a rush of heat at the sudden closeness, the way his body pressed against yours, anchoring you there. His hands, still beneath your thighs, slid upward slightly, fingers grazing the curve of your ass before giving it a small, tentative squeeze. The unexpected boldness of the touch sent a spark through you, and your breath hitched, a faint blush coloring your cheeks.

His lips found yours again, and he kissed you with a fervor that felt worlds away from the shyness he’d shown moments before. His mouth moved against yours with a raw intensity, devouring each kiss, leaving no space between you. You felt the heat radiating from him, the rhythm of his breaths growing heavier as he pressed himself closer, as though wanting to close any lingering distance between you.

The contrast was dizzying—just moments ago, he’d been so cautious, uncertain in every touch, every glance. And now here he was, holding you in his arms, his kisses almost desperate as if he’d found something he didn’t want to let go of. You clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady, grounding pressure of his hands keeping you anchored against him.

He kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that seemed to grow with each passing second. His fingers tightened on your ass, his grip steady and possessive, pressing you more firmly against the wall as though he wanted to keep you there, close, unmovable. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and heavy, mirroring your own.

His mouth left yours only for a moment, his lips brushing along your jaw, trailing down to the curve of your neck. Each kiss was a mix of soft and hurried, as if he were savoring the taste of your skin but couldn’t quite hold back his growing desire. His breath was hot against your neck, and you felt a shiver run through you as his lips lingered there, taking his time to explore, to feel you.

The way he held you felt powerful yet tentative, as if he was discovering just what he could do, and it sent a thrill through you. You felt the tension in his hold, the slight tremble in his fingertips betraying a mix of nervous excitement and unrestrained want.

You whispered his name softly, and he stilled for a moment, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes, usually so confident and sharp, held a softness, a vulnerability that made your heart race. He seemed to study you, his gaze searching your face, as if he needed to see that you were still with him, still wanting this as much as he did.

“S’toru…” you murmured agaib, your voice barely a whisper, filled with all the unspoken reassurance and encouragement you could offer. He swallowed, his cheeks faintly flushed, and gave a small, hesitant smile, looking a little relieved, a little emboldened

With newfound determination, he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours once more, this time slower, savoring the moment.

As Satoru’s kisses grew deeper and more assured, the intensity between you became undeniable, and you could feel his breathing growing heavier. His hands roamed along your thighs, fingers grazing over the fabric of your clothes, and each touch seemed to carry a little more heat, a little more urgency.

Then, suddenly, you felt it—a subtle but unmistakable pressure against your stomach. His hips had shifted closer in his fervor, and now you could feel him pressing against you, hard and undeniable. The realization made a shiver run through you, and you felt your own face flush, heart pounding at the sudden intimacy of it.

Satoru froze for a moment, as if only now aware of the way his body was reacting. His cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and he swallowed, his breath catching as he struggled to pull himself back, an awkward smile tugging at his lips.

“I… didn’t mean…” he stammered, clearly embarrassed, his gaze dropping as though he didn’t quite know how to handle his own reactions.

But before he could pull away, you brought a hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb gently along his skin, letting him know it was okay. “It’s alright,” you whispered, voice soft and reassuring. “Do what you please.“

He looked at you, relief mingling with something deeper, a flicker of excitement shining in his eyes. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours again, this time with a slower, more deliberate passion. As he deepened the kiss, his body pressed closer, and he stopped resisting the way his hips aligned with yours, letting himself feel the closeness without overthinking it.

Your hands slid over his shoulders, steadying yourself against him, feeling the strength in his frame as he held you, his body tense with barely restrained desire. The pressure against your stomach grew, a steady reminder of the effect you were having on him, and you could feel his hesitance melting away bit by bit. His kisses grew bolder, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, as though he didn’t want any distance left between you.

,S‘toru” you whispered against his lips, voice breathy and soft, and he drew in a shaky breath, his eyes heavy-lidded, as though he was barely keeping himself grounded. He was fighting to stay in control, to process the new sensations flooding through him, but he could hardly hold back.

“Feels s‘ good…” he murmured, his voice a low, shaky whisper. Slowly, his hips moved, pressing into you, creating a delicious friction as his hardness rubbed against you, even through the layers of clothing. The movement was tentative but grew more confident with each slow thrust, his breath hitching as he sank deeper into the feeling. His lips found the side of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses there, letting his lips map the curve of your skin.

A quiet whimper escaped you, unintentional yet undeniable, and he froze, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with that raw need, softened slightly, as if wanting to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. But when he heard the faint, breathy sound again as his lips brushed over the same spot, he seemed to realize just how much his touch affected you. A flicker of excitement flashed in his gaze, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck again, this time more deliberately, letting his tongue graze the sensitive skin.

You whimpered again, the sound slipping from your lips before you could stop it, and you brought a hand to your mouth, instinctively trying to muffle the sound. But he reached up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand away with a gentle yet firm hold. His gaze held an intensity that made your heart skip.

“Wanna hear ‘em… your moans,” he muttered, his voice low, the words dripping with newfound confidence. He leaned in, his lips trailing back to your neck, and this time, his tongue traced slow, heated lines against your skin, savoring the way you shivered beneath his touch.

Each kiss, each brush of his lips, became bolder, more purposeful, as though he was learning exactly how to make you feel every single touch. His hips continued to press against you in slow, unhurried movements, creating a rhythm that sent sparks through your entire body.

His fingers, which had gripped your Thighs with a firm intensity, began to trail upward, brushing against the fabric of your shirt. With his breath warm against your skin, he paused, looking up at you for a moment, his gaze filled with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

His hand moved to the top button of your shirt, fingers slightly trembling as he hesitated. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching for any hint of uncertainty. When you gave him a soft nod, a silent reassurance, his face softened, and with that, he began to slowly undo the buttons, one by one, his gaze never leaving yours as though anchoring himself in the trust you shared.

His breath caught as he reached the last button, letting your shirt slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet.

His gaze dropped, and his eyes widened, filled with awe as he took in the sight of you. His hands, initially tentative, began to trace gentle patterns along your shoulders and collarbone, his touch warm and reverent. He seemed captivated, almost in disbelief, as his fingertips trailed downward, lingering at the curve of your breasts.

Satoru swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed as he looked up at you, his gaze both shy and filled with wonder. “You’re… so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, as if he feared speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. With a hesitant hand, he reached out, his palm gently covering the soft curve of your breast, his touch both tender and careful, as though you were something precious.

Leaning in, his lips brushed softly against your skin just above your heart, leaving a trail of warm, reverent kisses as he explored with growing confidence. His hand, which had rested at the curve of your breast, wandered over the full softness, squeezing with a tentative pressure that sent warmth flooding through you. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple, giving a small, instinctive pinch.

The sharp pleasure made you gasp, a moan slipping from your lips, but you couldn’t help flinching at the unexpected intensity. “Not ser‘ hard… they’re sensitive,” you murmured, gently pulling his hand back. He froze, meeting your gaze with an apologetic expression, his face flushed even deeper.

“ sorry..” he whispered, genuine remorse in his voice, but the look in his eyes was also filled with curiosity and need. Without a second thought, he lowered his head, bringing himself level with your chest, and his lips brushed over your sensitive skin in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Satoru’s lips wrapped around your nipple, his warm mouth enveloping the sensitive peak. He kissed it softly, savoring the taste of your skin, his tongue flicking out to tease you gently. The sensation sent electric currents racing through you, and you gasped, arching into him, encouraging him to continue.

As he continued to explore, he paused for a moment, pulling back slightly to look up at you with wide, earnest eyes. “I’m really sorry for being too rough,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine remorse.

Then, as if his apology extended beyond you and into your body, he turned his attention back to your nipple, planting a soft kiss on it. “You just look s‘ perfect,” he added, the words barely escaping his lips.

He resumed his gentle kisses, trailing his mouth over the delicate skin around your breast, still mindful of your sensitivity. Each kiss was filled with a newfound tenderness, as if he was not only trying to please you but also to make amends. “Please forgive me,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm, brushing over you like a gentle caress.

With each delicate kiss, he continued to express his reverence, kissing your nipple again softly as though it were a cherished treasure. “I promise to be better,” he vowed, his gaze intent, as if making a sacred promise to both you and your body. He lavished attention on your breast, his lips trailing kisses that were sweet and reverent, the gentle pressure of his mouth a stark contrast to the earlier clumsiness.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his earnestness, feeling a warmth spread through you, not just from his touch but from his sincerity. “You’re doing just fine, you‘re just learning afterall.” you reassured him, your voice breathy and filled with affection.

His eyes lit up at your encouragement, and he dove back in, his lips returning to your nipple, kissing it with a newfound tenderness, allowing the moment to envelop you both.

from your breast to your collarbone and back again, savoring each reaction he drew from you. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, igniting a desire that only grew stronger.

But suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of excitement and determination. He gently wrapped his arms around you once ahain, lifting you with surprising strength.

He carried you effortlessly across the room, your heart racing as you held onto him, feeling the strength in his arms. The thrill of being so close to him, both physically and emotionally, sent a rush of warmth through you. As he approached the bed, he leaned down, carefully laying you onto the soft mattress, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once he set you down, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you stretched out before him. His heart raced in response to the intimacy of the moment, his breath hitching as he drank you in. “You’re really beautiful,” he whispered again, as if he couldn’t help but marvel at you.

Satoru leaned over you, propping himself up on his forearms, his gaze filled with a mix of admiration and longing. His fingers brushed through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, and he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

He pressed his lips against yours again, kissing you deeply as if trying to convey all the emotions swirling within him. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if memorizing every detail of you. You felt his weight resting against you, warm and safe, and it filled you with a sense of comfort and exhilaration.

As the kiss deepened, his hands wandered, fingers tracing along your sides and down your arms, drawing you into the warmth of the moment. He seemed to lose himself in you, his kisses growing more passionate, yet still tender, as if he were balancing the thrill of desire with a profound respect for the connection you were building together.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his breathing uneven, and looked down at you with an expression that held a perfect blend of desire and vulnerability. His eyes softened, and a flicker of concern appeared as he took in your face. “Are… are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with an almost shy uncertainty. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness in his tone, and you nodded, feeling a warm sense of safety in his presence. “I’m fine,” you murmured softly, reaching up to brush a reassuring hand along his arm. “I should be asking you that.”

He nodded, his gaze briefly meeting yours before looking away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I’m… I’m okay,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper, almost as if he were still processing his own feelings. After a beat, he hesitated, then glanced back at you with a hint of nervous curiosity. “What should I do now?”

You sat up slightly, leaning forward so you could hold his gaze, though he quickly looked down, the blush deepening on his face. “Pull your clothes off,” you instructed softly, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “But leave your underwear on.”

Satoru’s eyes widened at your words, the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks, almost as if he hadn’t quite expected the suggestion. “Yeah… okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement as he reached for the hem of his shirt, hesitating only briefly before he began to lift it.

His hands trembled ever so slightly as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin was warm, slightly flushed, and he kept his gaze averted, as if trying to gather the courage to keep going. He let the shirt fall to the floor, then took a deep breath before moving to undo his pants, casting a quick glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance.

When he saw your soft, encouraging expression, he continued, pushing his pants down and stepping out of them, leaving only his underwear as you’d requested. His movements were tentative, almost shy, but there was a certain determination in his actions that spoke of his trust in you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you watched Satoru, your heart pounding in sync with his as he settled in beside you. His eyes lingered on you, filled with curiosity and an unmistakable nervousness, though he gave you a shy smile when you met his gaze.

With a reassuring nod, you began to reach down, fingers slipping to the waistband of your pants. His eyes followed your movements, captivated, as you slowly slid the fabric down your hips, exposing the soft skin of your legs. You kicked the pants aside, leaving you in only your underwear, mirroring him. His breath hitched as his gaze roamed over you, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable.

Now both in only your most vulnerable layers, you shifted back on the bed, motioning for him to come closer. Satoru followed, his movements tentative but filled with a certain eagerness, as though he was soaking in every detail of the moment.

He settled between your legs, his body hovering above yours as he propped himself up on his hands. His eyes were wide, sincere, holding a quiet wonder that made your heart flutter. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, drinking in the sight of you with a softness that was almost reverent.

You reached up, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips. His breaths were shallow, matching yours in rhythm, and a slight shiver ran through him at your touch. “Just take it slow,” you whispered, your voice soft, reassuring, as you leaned in close enough that your breaths mingled, faces only inches apart. “We don’t have to rush.”

He nodded, swallowing as his gaze remained locked with yours. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with gratitude and awe. Tentatively, he brought his hand to your waist, his fingers brushing over your skin with a gentleness that spoke of both caution and growing confidence. His touch was almost feather-light, his fingertips tracing small circles as though memorizing each curve and dip. You felt his hand tighten slightly, pulling you closer, grounding himself in the warmth of your body against his.

You leaned up, closing the space between you to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger there as you savored the warmth of his skin. Satoru’s eyes fluttered closed, and he exhaled a shaky breath, leaning into your touch, almost as if he were melting under your care.

When you pulled back just slightly, he turned his head to face you, his expression filled with an intense, tender gaze. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and for a brief moment, he hesitated, his lips parted as if caught between nervousness and longing. Finally, he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss that was both tender and exploratory, filled with a sweetness that made your heart race. He kissed you slowly, savoring every second, as though he wanted to remember this moment forever.

His hands began to wander from your waist to your hips, his fingers tracing along the curve where your underwear sat against your skin. He paused, his fingertips grazing along the line of fabric, hesitating, as if seeking permission. You could feel his hand trembling slightly, both from his excitement and his nerves, his fingers brushing over the skin just above the waistband before moving back down.

Satoru’s gaze was locked on yours, his eyes a mixture of wonder and nervousness as his hands continued their tentative exploration along the edge of your underwear. He seemed to be gathering courage, his fingers tracing gentle, almost reverent patterns across your skin. Your own hand covered his, a soft reminder, and you murmured, “You can take them off, y’know…”

He paused, visibly swallowing, his blush deepening. “Yes… yes, I know,” he replied, voice barely a whisper as he gathered the courage to slide the fabric down your hips. He moved slowly, carefully, as if savoring every second. When your underwear finally slipped from your legs, he let it fall from the bed, his gaze turning back to you with a new, unguarded vulnerability.

When he looked down, his gaze dipped between your legs as you spread them slightly, giving him space to take in the sight of you. He was visibly struck by the intimacy of the moment, a hint of awe flickering in his eyes, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, making you equally self-conscious and drawn to his quiet, genuine curiosity.

This wasn’t something you’d ever imagined doing, especially not as a tutor. The queen’s request had surprised you, and even as you’d agreed to guide him, you’d never anticipated how intense and meaningful this moment would feel. But with Satoru, there was a warmth and care that put you at ease—a softness in him that made you want to help him learn, to give him this experience.

Satoru’s breath was uneven as he drew his hands up your thighs, the warmth of his touch making your skin tingle. His thumbs moved slowly, pulling your legs apart just a little more, his touch almost reverent as he brushed his thumb against the delicate skin of your inner thigh. The sensation made you shiver, a small gasp escaping you.

His gaze never left yours as he brought his hands to your center, his fingers trembling slightly as he parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing your most sensitive area to the cool air. You let out a quiet gasp at the sensation, your breath catching as he focused on the glistening sight before him, his eyes filled with awe. He seemed mesmerized, watching the way your body reacted, the soft, pulsing invitation of your skin against his touch.

For a moment, he simply watched,

Satoru’s fingers trembled slightly as he held you open, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and uncertainty. His gaze flickered to yours, a question forming on his lips. “I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do next,” he admitted softly, his cheeks flushed, looking for guidance as he tried to understand how to please you.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his, your touch steadying him. “It’s okay,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. “I can show you.”

He swallowed, nodding as he leaned in closer, visibly eager to learn. “Where should I start?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

You held his gaze, feeling a sense of warmth at his openness. “See here?” you murmured, gently guiding his thumb to a small, sensitive spot at the apex of your folds. “This is the clit—it’s the most sensitive part, and it responds a lot to touch. You’ll want to start by focusing here.”

Satoru’s eyes lit with newfound understanding, his gaze turning to admiration as he looked down, processing your words carefully. His thumb brushed experimentally over the wet spot, his movements slow and cautious. You let out a soft, encouraging sigh, and he glanced up, his expression almost childlike in its intensity, clearly focused on learning how to make you feel good.

“So, you have to… prepare someone, right?” he asked, as if confirming his understanding. “Before anything else?”

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yes. You prepare a woman for… more,” you said, feeling a blush heat your cheeks. “Touching, kissing, and things like this—all of that helps get her ready, so it’s more comfortable. You have options, too. You could use your fingers, your mouth, or both… whatever feels natural for you.”

He seemed to absorb every word, nodding slowly, his brows furrowing with concentration. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the sensitive spot he’d just discovered.

Satoru leaned in, his thumb brushing over your clit again, this time with more confidence, his movements gentle yet focused. You let out a soft sound, and he paused, eyes widening in wonder. He glanced up at you, a small, satisfied smile forming on his lips as he realized he’d done something right.

He leaned in, closer than before, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, letting his lips linger, and you could feel the warmth of his breath as he explored with a gentle touch. You could tell he was savoring every new sensation, every slight shift and soft sigh. With each kiss, he grew bolder, moving closer to your core, his hands still steady on your thighs as he continued his careful approach.

Then, his lips brushed over your folds, his breath hitching as he pressed a lingering, almost worshipful kiss there. “So soft,” he murmured, sounding as if he were speaking more to himself than to you, awe evident in his voice. His mouth moved lower, placing another slow kiss before he began to taste you, his tongue moving hesitantly at first, as if familiarizing himself with each inch.

The first gentle stroke of his tongue made you gasp softly, and Satoru’s eyes flicked up, eager to see your reaction. Seeing the pleasure in your expression, he smiled, a slight, bashful grin, and leaned in further, letting his tongue explore with more confidence. The way he worked his mouth over you, savoring every taste, every sound you made, spoke to the intense curiosity and focus he was channeling into each motion.

“Fuck—” he whispered, his voice thick and slightly shaky, pulling back for a moment to catch his breath. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated as he looked at you with something close to worship. “Pussy’s s‘ sweet— tastes ser’ good,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving back in with a new kind of hunger.

His tongue found your clit this time, pressing gently before giving it a soft, experimental bite that sent a shock of pleasure through you, making you arch into him. He continued, lapping at you with slow, broad strokes, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands slid up, gripping your hips and pulling you even closer as he kissed and licked every inch, fully lost in the experience.

He seemed completely intoxicated by your taste, by the way your body responded to him. Each movement of his mouth became more confident, more eager, as he continued his relentless exploration, his tongue swirling around your clit before lapping at your entrance again, catching every bit of wetness as if it were precious. Satoru was utterly lost in you, pressing closer and moaning softly into your skin, entirely absorbed in the pleasure he was bringing you.

His hand slipped back to your thigh, gently squeezing as his mouth worked in perfect rhythm

Satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened as he became even more engrossed, his mouth moving over you with a hungry, eager rhythm. His eyes flickered up every so often, watching your reactions with an almost boyish awe as he learned exactly what made you gasp and arch into him. Each sound you made seemed to spur him on, fueling his growing confidence as his tongue moved with more purpose, more intent.

He let his tongue glide up from your entrance to your clit in slow, drawn-out strokes, savoring every taste, as though he couldn’t get enough. “Ser‘ good,” he murmured between breaths, his voice thick and heavy, almost reverent. “Can’t believe— fuck- how perfect ya taste.” His words were laced with genuine awe, and each syllable seemed to sink into you, heightening the warmth building deep in your core.

His lips wrapped around your clit then, and he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you. You gasped, fingers tangling in his soft hair, tugging him closer as your hips moved instinctively toward him, urging him deeper. Satoru moaned softly at the feeling of your hands in his hair, the vibrations of his voice against you only adding to the sensation.

“Just like that,” you whispered, your voice shaky as he continued, his enthusiasm and care blending into a perfect, overwhelming rhythm. He responded by doubling down, his lips pressing more firmly, his tongue flicking and circling, as if every movement were a way to learn how to make you feel even better.

As he continued, Satoru looked up at you again, his gaze dark with desire yet softened with admiration. “You taste like… everything I’ve ever wanted,” he mumbled against you, his voice muffled, but full of devotion. He leaned in once more, mouth covering you completely, tongue moving in long, slow strokes, savoring every drop and every reaction.

He became almost methodical, his mouth working in steady, purposeful motions, alternating between licking and gentle sucking, pulling quiet moans from your lips with every movement. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady as he continued his eager exploration, his mouth mapping every inch of you, each touch bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, as his pace quickened and his movements became less restrained, you felt the growing heat build to a near breaking point. Your hips bucked against him, and he only gripped you tighter, pressing his mouth more firmly against you, tongue swirling and lips pressing as he pushed you right to the brink, lost in the need to give you everything he could.

Satoru’s eyes never left yours as he continued, his focus unwavering. Every gasp, every arch of your back seemed to spur him on, and as he watched you getting closer, a new determination filled his gaze. His hands slid up your inner thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin with a light touch before hesitating at your entrance. He glanced up, silently asking for permission, and at your encouraging nod, he took a deep breath, pressing a finger against your slick entrance.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside, his movements tentative as he watched your expression, making sure you were comfortable. His finger slid deeper, and he marveled at how warm and soft you felt, his gaze full of awe as he worked his finger gently, moving in time with the soft caresses of his mouth.

“Is… this okay?” he whispered, voice low and unsure, yet filled with genuine care. The gentle curve of his finger inside you was cautious, and when you let out a quiet moan in response, he seemed relieved, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, s‘toru,” you murmured, voice thick with desire, encouraging him to continue.

Emboldened, he began moving his finger slowly, curling it inside you as he searched for the spots that made you shiver. His mouth returned to your clit, tongue flicking in gentle, deliberate strokes, the combination of his movements creating a steady, delicious rhythm. Each motion was measured, his focus absolute as he seemed to get lost in the feel of you around him, the way your body responded to every touch.

As he gained confidence, he added another finger, stretching you just slightly, his gaze still attentive, looking for any hint of discomfort. But when he saw only pleasure in your expression, his movements grew a little bolder. His fingers curved and pressed deeper, brushing that sensitive spot within you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body that had you clinging to his shoulders.

“God, pussy‘s s‘… perfect,” he breathed against you, his tone filled with reverence, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His fingers pumped steadily, his mouth following their rhythm, drawing out soft moans that seemed to intoxicate him further.

Each gentle thrust of his fingers, each flick of his tongue was filled with growing intensity, a desire that seemed to drive him to bring you closer and closer to release. His face, now completely flushed, showed a newfound hunger as he became entirely engrossed in every moan

Your body tensed as Satoru’s fingers curled inside you, pressing perfectly against that sensitive spot, his mouth still worshipping your clit with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure built rapidly, each movement of his fingers and every flick of his tongue intensifying the sensation until it became overwhelming.

Your breath hitched, and you felt yourself teetering right on the edge. “Satoru… I’m close…” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with both determination and awe, as if he couldn’t believe he was the one bringing you to this point. Encouraged, he kept going, maintaining that steady pace, his fingers pumping and curling with just the right pressure, his mouth warm and relentless against your clit.

Your body arched, and the pleasure surged through you in a powerful wave. A gasp escaped your lips, turning into a cry of pure ecstasy as you reached your climax, your body trembling under his touch. Satoru didn’t stop, his fingers and mouth working you through every second, letting you ride out the pleasure fully, his gaze fixed on you, captivated by every reaction.

He slowed only as he felt your body begin to relax, his fingers gradually easing their rhythm until they finally stilled. His lips pressed one last, tender kiss against your clit before he withdrew his hand. You watched, breathless, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, savoring every taste as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Pussy’s so sweet,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of awe and raw need thickening his tone. His pupils were blown wide, his face covered in the remnants of your release, and he made no effort to hide his pleasure, licking his lips, his tongue tracing over the faint glisten left on his chin. “Want more…” he breathed, voice low and desperate, as if even this closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy the pull he felt toward you.

With a shuddering breath, he shifted, his hands moving to his briefs, and without hesitation, he slid them off, tossing them somewhere off the bed. He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a few slow, steady strokes, his own arousal now fully bared before you.

You couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips as you took him in. He was big—thicker and longer than you’d expected, his arousal flushed with a deep, heated pink at the tip, beads of precum already forming and trailing down along the pale, veined length. The sight alone made you clench in anticipation, a mix of nerves and longing swirling within you.

Satoru looked down at you, his cheeks and chest flushed, the intensity in his eyes making him look almost dazed, drunk on the need coursing through him. “Can’t… can’t wait any longer—” he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice. He leaned closer, his tip brushing against your clit in a teasing tap, smearing his precum around your entrance.

“Please,” he whispered, almost as if pleading. “Please… let me… I need to feel you. Need to be inside…”

You felt his desperation in every word, his restraint fraying with every second that passed. His gaze held yours, dark and pleading, and you gave him a soft nod, granting him the permission he so earnestly sought.

“Please…” he whispered again, positioning himself carefully, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he slowly began to press forward, inch by aching inch.

A shiver ran through Satoru as he began to sink into you, every inch he pressed forward met with a quiet gasp or soft sigh that only seemed to make him more desperate. He moved slowly, his gaze fixed on your face as if wanting to memorize every reaction. The stretch was intense, his thickness filling you in a way that had you curling your fingers into the sheets, and he took his time, his movements careful and deliberate as he entered you.

“God—” he whispered, a tremor in his voice as he tried to keep his control, his brows knitting together in concentration. His hands found your hips, gripping firmly but gently, anchoring himself as he slid further. He exhaled shakily, and his breathing turned ragged, his lips parting as he lost himself in the feeling. “Feels so good…*hic* better than I imagined—” he murmured, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually inside you.

As soon as Satoru pressed fully inside you, he froze, his whole body tensing as if he’d been struck by lightning. The heat, the way your walls clung to him, warm and tight, had his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling back in pure, unfiltered bliss. A deep groan escaped his lips, raw and needy, and he gripped your hips so tightly you could feel the tremor in his fingers.

“Fuck—” he choked out, his voice thick, barely coherent, as he tried to process the overwhelming sensation. His head dropped forward, gaze dazed, his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling. “So… s’ fucking tight,” he muttered, almost in disbelief, his words catching as his hips gave an involuntary thrust. “God—you’re… clenching around me so perfectly—”

You felt his fingers digging into your hips as he rocked into you again, the motion instinctive, almost primal. His restraint shattered in an instant, and he began moving with a newfound hunger, his hips snapping against yours with an intensity that had his head spinning. Each thrust made his eyes flutter, his lips parting as he gasped for breath, his mind barely able to focus on anything but the sensation of you wrapped around him

He buried himself deeper, his pace turning relentless, desperate. His lips found your neck, teeth grazing over your skin as he panted, “Feel so fucking good, can’t—can’t stop…fuck!” He sounded wrecked, completely undone, his tone almost pleading as he kept moving, his rhythm wild and unrestrained.

Satoru’s eyes rolled back as he lost himself in the feeling, the pleasure flooding through him too intense to control. “Pussy’s so *hic* warm,” he slurred, his words muffled as his lips brushed over your skin, his hips pressing into you harder, needier, every sound you made only pushing him further. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, his breaths ragged, desperate as he surrendered completely, letting the sensation consume him.

Satoru’s movements became a frenzy, his hips snapping against yours with a desperation that was almost uncontrollable, his breathing erratic and voice reduced to hoarse groans. Every inch of you enveloped him in a warmth so tight that his composure shattered with each thrust, his hands gripping you as if afraid to let go.

“Fuck—can’t… can’t get enough,” he mumbled, his voice rough, eyes half-lidded as he stared down at you with a dazed, almost feral hunger. His mouth found yours, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss, messy and demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you deeply. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy pants as he looked at you, captivated, overwhelmed.

Your moans and gasps only fueled him, every sound you made seeming to push him further over the edge. His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you even closer, his thrusts rough but filled with raw need. “You feel… so fucking perfect,” he murmured, barely able to get the words out as his rhythm grew erratic, his hips moving instinctively as he chased the building pleasure that was consuming him.

Lost in the sensation, his pace faltered, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate. He pulled you tighter against him, his body shuddering with every thrust, his head falling to your shoulder as he let out a deep, broken groan, his voice strained and breathless.

“God… can’t… gonna come…soon” he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and helplessness as he felt himself teetering on the edge, holding on only by a thread as he lost himself completely in the warmth of you.

With each thrust, Satoru’s body trembled, his breath hitching as he felt himself nearing that precipice. The warmth enveloping him tightened further, the way your walls pulsed around him driving him wild. His movements grew more frantic, instinct taking over as he chased the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

“Please—please..” he gasped, desperation lacing his words as he quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. He was lost, intoxicated by the feeling of being inside you, and it was as if everything else faded away. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of you, tangled together in a whirlwind of passion.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, the heat pooling in your core intensifying with every movement. “S’toru… yes—yesss just like that,” you encouraged, your voice breathy as you matched his rhythm, pushing him closer to the edge. Your words seemed to ignite something primal within him, and he let out a deep, guttural growl, thrusting into you with abandon.

“Fuck—so good… you’re so good,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back again as he felt the pleasure building rapidly, tension coiling tightly in his belly. Every sound you made, every gasp and moan, drove him closer to madness. He could feel the pressure mounting, an almost unbearable intensity that threatened to consume him completely.

“I can’t hold back much longer,” he warned, his voice low and strained, nearly a whine as he fought against the overwhelming need to release. “I want to feel you—want you to feel me…”

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you completely, his body shaking as he let go, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. “Oh—fuck!” he cried out, his voice echoing with a mix of ecstasy and disbelief as he came, filling you with warmth. His body quaked with the intensity of his release, and in that moment, everything faded into pure bliss, leaving only the two of you tangled together, breathing heavily in the aftermath

As the waves of pleasure began to fade, Satoru’s breath came in uneven gasps, his eyes still glazed with the aftereffects of the ecstasy he’d just experienced. He looked down at you, the warmth of your bodies still mingling, and a sudden thought struck him—a spark of wild desire that seemed to take over his senses.

“Marry me,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out with an urgency that surprised even him.

Your eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard. “Wha—what?” you stammered, disbelief flickering across your face.

“I know it’s crazy since we just met, but… you’re just—so amazing, and I don’t wanna let you go! That was—” he hesitated, a dreamy look crossing his face as he recalled the sensations. “Your pussy’s s‘ good. I can’t just… I can’t just walk away from this. I don‘t want anyone else now..”

You let out a soft laugh, a mixture of incredulity and amusement bubbling up inside you at his unfiltered honesty. What is happening? you thought, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had brought you here. “You don’t even know my name!” you exclaimed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t need to know,” he replied, leaning closer, his eyes half-lidded with that intoxicating mix of lust and affection. “I just know you’re incredible. It’s like—like fate or something. I want you to be mine, like— forever.”

His words, though impulsive, were laced with sincerity, and you could see the way his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, even as excitement radiated from him. This is insane, you thought, but there’s something so genuine about him. “You’re serious?” you asked, searching his eyes for any trace of jest, but the sincerity in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Dead serious,” he confirmed, his expression earnest but still slightly dazed, the effects of what had just transpired clearly clouding his thoughts. “I don’t want to waste any time… so, uh, what do you say?” His voice wavered slightly, betraying his nervousness despite the confident facade he tried to maintain.

Could this really be happening? you thought, your heart racing at the idea of such an impulsive commitment. You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest at his unexpected proposal. “Alright, let’s see where this goes, Prince,” you replied teasingly, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “But you better be ready for more than just this.”

“Y-yeah! Totally!” he stuttered, his enthusiasm shining through the haze of lust. “I’m all in. Just… just tell me your name, and I promise to be the best husband ever.”

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sh1-n0bu · 4 months ago

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i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

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prael · 2 months ago

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Day 8: Perspective

(G)I-DLE Miyeon x male reader smut

words: 6,693 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

It's all a matter of perspective. From the outside looking in, things can appear vastly different than when viewed up close and personal.

Take, for instance: Miyeon.

Now, look, you're not saying the whole image is only perspective. You wouldn't dream of undermining the fact that the girl who looks like a princess in magazines, on TV and wherever else you might see her, does in fact look every bit as much of a princess in person. The long black hair, the perfect smooth skin, the way she smiles as though she has a wonderful secret she can't wait to tell. Everything about her is as regal and poised as you'd expect.

But that's not the whole story. It never is.

There's a depth to this woman. There's a nuance to her that doesn't translate to the photos. Something you feel more than you can describe.

And, boy, you can feel it.

"God, fuck, I'm close," Miyeon whispers, her words hot against your ear. Her voice is a breathy whisper, so different from the clear tones she uses on stage. She's not singing now��there's nothing practised or perfect in the way she breathes, the way she talks to you. It's natural, and that's what makes it perfect.

Those manicured nails, adored in acrylic and fake jewels burrow into the skin on your shoulders, holding you down as she grinds atop you. Her hips move with all the skill that they do when she's performing, but there's an aggression to it that you don't see when the music is playing. This is a different type of performance—a different rhythm.

Looking up at her as she rides, you would never deny the comparisons. She's beautiful in every sense of the word, and it's hard not to get lost in the sight. There's something about the way the dim light catches her skin. It's like a spotlight on her body, illuminating every curve and dip, and all the shadows in between. It's hard to look away, and when she moves, it's like the light dances on her sweat-stained skin.

Years ago, Miyeon was always the 'lay there and take it' type (and she was so very good at taking it), but these days, there is something raw and wild inside of her. Something that you're not sure what to call, or how it started, or even how to feel about it. All you know is that when the two of you are together, there's an energy in the air that's electric. Like a storm brewing, ready to strike.

It's in the way her eyes lock onto yours as she works her hips up and down your cock, her body trembling with every movement. Her breath is ragged, and she's gasping as if she's running out of oxygen. It's in the way her thighs squeeze around your hips, and her nails dig deeper into your skin. She's riding you like it's her only purpose, her only goal, and the world could be ending around her and she wouldn't stop.

"Cum with me, please," Miyeon begs. And it's truly a beg. It's not a demand or even a polite request. It's a desperate plea, and it's all you need to hear.

Your hands find her slender waist, gripping her, pulling her down hard against you. You thrust, slamming your hips up to meet hers. It's a clash of bodies, and you're not sure where you end and she begins. You share this moment, this sensation. It's as if you're one being, one creature of lust and desire, moving in perfect sync.

Her pussy clenches around you, and her moans fill the air, a song that's just for your ears. Her body shakes, and her eyes flutter shut, her head falling back. You can see her pulse pounding beneath the surface and her chest heaves. She's lost in the sensation, and you're right there with her. You spill into her, your cock throbbing inside as she milks every last drop from you. Her nails scratch down your chest, leaving red lines in their wake, but you barely feel the pain.

When she finally collapses, her body limp and spent, you can't help but pull her close. Her head falls onto your chest, and you wrap your arms around her. Her hair is damp with sweat, and she smells of sex and perfume. She's so light on your chest, but somehow, it's the most comforting weight.

"That was—" you begin, but she stops you.

"Perfect," she whispers.

You chuckle. "Yeah."

"And also the last time."

You don't move at first. You're still breathing heavily, and you can feel her heartbeat against your skin. You're sure she can feel yours, too. You're not sure you heard her right, and you can't bring yourself to respond.

"Did you hear me?" Miyeon asks, her tone suddenly serious.

You swallow hard, then say, "This shit again?"

She sits up, and you can feel the weight of her body leaving yours. You miss it instantly, the warmth of her skin against yours, the way she fit against you perfectly. But now, she's looking down at you, and her expression is hard to read. There's a mix of emotions there, and you can't tell which one is winning.

"Miyeon—" you begin, but she cuts you off.

"Don't," she says. "Don't try to make this something it's not."

"So what the fuck is this?"

She sighs, and you can see the sadness in her eyes. "It's convenient. We have history. We know each other well, but I can't do this anymore."

You're not sure how to respond. You've done this dance before, so many times that you've lost count. And yet, every time, it still stings. You wonder if she'll ever tire of this cycle, or if it's just a part of who she is.

"Look," she says, her voice softening. "I care about you. I do. But... I can't keep doing this."

"You say that every time," you reply, your voice a mix of frustration and resignation.

She looks away, and you can see the guilt in her expression. "I know," she says. "But this time, I mean it. I can't keep hurting you like this. It's not fair to you."

It's all a matter of perspective. From the outside looking in, the two of you might look like young adults in love. Sharing intimacy and vulnerability in the rawest sense. But from the inside looking out, you can't help but feel like you're trapped in a cycle you can't break. It's like a never-ending rollercoaster, with highs that leave you breathless and lows that leave you feeling empty.

"You know what?" you say, sitting up and looking her in the eye. "I'm done with this shit. Every time things seem to settle, you blow it up. What is it? Are you scared of being comfortable?"

"It's not about that," she says, her voice defensive. She slips back a little, drawing herself off your limp cock and resting between your legs on the bed, her thigh resting atop yours. "We're touring soon and I have to prepare. I don't want you to think you'll be able to come see me, or that we can continue to do this. It's over."

"Touring, huh?" you scoff. "That's the same excuse you used before. What about when you're back from touring? What then?" You shake your head. "You drop me a text at 2 am and ask me to come over?"

She looks at you, and for a moment, you think she might waver. But then she shakes her head. "No," she says, her voice firm. "This is it. It's over."

It starts in Seoul, you've spent the last few months seeing the posters everywhere. The subway, the billboards, the bus stops, and even the side of buildings. You can't escape them. The images are larger than life, with Miyeon in the centre. She's smiling, her teeth bright white and her eyes sparkling. She's beautiful, as she always is. Around her are the other members of (G)I-DLE, dressed in matching outfits, looking every bit as perfect as she is, and yet, they pale in comparison.

You can't look away from the images. They seem to follow you wherever you go, a constant reminder of what could have been. What could have been, but never will be. It's been a month since you last saw her, and yet you see her every day.

And it's not just the posters. It's the commercials, too. You'll be watching TV, minding your own business, and suddenly, there she is. Selling makeup or shampoo or some other product you have no interest in. But you can't turn away. You're drawn to her, even though you know it's only going to hurt.

You're in the supermarket, trying to get your groceries, when you see the magazine covers. There she is, looking perfect, as always. Her hair is styled, and her makeup is flawless. She's wearing a dress that clings to her curves, and her legs seem to go on forever. It's a far cry from the way she looks when she's with you, but you can't deny that she's still beautiful.

You pick up the magazine, flipping through the pages. There she is, in an interview. She's talking about her upcoming tour and her plans for the future. She's confident and charming, as always. You can't help but read the whole thing, even though you know it's not healthy.

And now, you're in line at the convenience store, picking up some ramen for dinner. You glance up at the TV in the corner, and there she is. Performing. She's on some music show, singing and dancing with the other members of (G)I-DLE. She's in perfect sync with the others, her movements fluid and graceful.

It's not just the public images that haunt you. It's the personal ones, too. The ones you took of her, of the two of you together. You have them all saved on your phone, a constant reminder of what you had. You try not to look at them, but sometimes you can't resist. It's normally what tides you over, between the time when she calls you and in the most innocent of voices, tells you that you should meet.

There are other girls, of course. Your attempts at getting over her by getting under someone else. But the thing is, every girl in Seoul seems to want to be just like Miyeon. You go out on a date with a cute girl, she'll be wearing Miyeon's makeup and her clothes. At a club, a girl will be wearing her perfume. She's everywhere, and you can't escape her. It's maddening.

So you buy one of them a drink. Try to forget about Miyeon for a night. Even when you're between another girl's legs and she's writhing, it's the thought of Miyeon's face that pushes you over the edge. You've even tried to avoid it. You've taken girls that look nothing like her, but it doesn't seem to matter. They're all just a distraction, a way to numb the pain.

And you can't help but feel like you're going to lose your mind.

It's a rainy day when you finally see her. You're walking home from work, huddled under your umbrella, when you spot her across the street. She's walking with her head down, trying to avoid the rain. You stop, and for a moment, you're frozen. You don't know what to do. Should you cross the street and talk to her? Should you pretend you haven't seen her?

Before you can decide, she looks up and sees you. There's a flash of recognition on her face, and then a smile. A real smile. You can't help but smile back.

But she keeps walking.

It's just two days out. The opening show of (G)I-DLE's world tour. You've managed to avoid it. You've had no interest in buying a ticket. It's not the music. You still listen to them, and they put on a great performance. It's more the idea of it. You don't want to be part of the crowd, just one face in a sea of fans.

You're drowning your sorrows over a few drinks at some hole in the wall. It's a familiar place. The mood is all youthful energy. It's a record bar, and it's one you're familiar with. You've lost count of the number of times you've waited here, with Miyeon's apartment around the corner, waiting for the text to tell you it's all clear. It's not why you're here, so maybe it's a strange choice, but the records on the wall, the music pumping through the speakers and the drinks in your belly makes it easier to forget.

A girl comes and sits beside you. She's cute, in a plain sort of way. She's not trying too hard. You've been watching her since she came in. She's with a group, but they've been playing darts, and she's come over to the bar by herself. She sits and orders a drink, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, not saying anything.

You can see her glancing at you out of the corner of your eye. You know she's interested. You know the game. You've played it before.

Maybe you could spend the evening talking to her, maybe even take her home. But the idea doesn't appeal to you. You're not in the mood. Not for her.

So opportunity passes. A man walks up, some business type in a suit. He sits on the other side of her, and the two strike up a conversation. You watch her laugh at his jokes, and he buys her a drink. There's a pang of jealousy, not over this girl in particular, but the fact that he can have this light-hearted fun without the baggage weighing over him.

He doesn't have a Miyeon-shaped hole in his head, but maybe that's just a matter of perspective.

You're not drunk. You're sure of that.

Maybe careless is the right word. You've had a few drinks, but not enough to impair your judgment. You're just a little loose, a little less concerned with the consequences of your actions. So you're pressing the button for the top floor of the apartment building you're in, and you're on your way up.

It's not an entirely conscious decision. It's more of a compulsion. You're not sure what you're going to do when you get there, but you can't help yourself. The elevator doors slide open, and you step out into the hallway.

It's late. The lights are dimmed, and the only sound is the hum of the air conditioning. You walk down the hallway, your footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. You stop in front of the door. Apartment 1801.

You knock. There's no answer. You knock again, and this time, you can hear movement inside.

Miyeon opens the door, and for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. She's dressed in an oversized white shirt, and her hair is messy, as though she's been asleep.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asks, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know," you reply, and it's the truth. You really don't know what you're doing here. You just know that you needed to see her, to be near her. Even if it's just for a moment.

"This is a bad idea," she says, and she starts to close the door. But you reach out and stop her, your hand on the door frame. You're not sure what you're expecting. Maybe for her to yell at you, or tell you to go to hell.

But she doesn't. Instead, she just sighs, and she steps aside, letting you in.

Things are a bit of a mess inside, you can't blame her, she's about to spend months travelling from city to city. Her suitcases are sprawled all over, clothes are laid out on the sofa, and the coffee table is covered in books and papers.

"You can't keep doing this," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've got my tour starting, and we can't keep doing this. I'm leaving the country soon, so I can't keep... seeing you. You need to find someone else."

"I know," you reply, and you do. You know you can't keep doing this. You know you need to move on, to find someone else. But it's hard.

You step closer to her, and she doesn't move away. Your hands find her waist, and you pull her closer to you. She doesn't resist, and for a moment, the two of you are just standing there, breathing in each other's scent. And you can't help but think of all the times you've been in this exact position, with your hands on her waist and her body pressed against yours. You think of all the times you've kissed her, touched her, fucked her. All the times you've shared.

"I just came to say goodbye," you whisper, and you mean it. You don't expect anything from her. You're not even sure why you're here. You just know that you need to see her one last time before you say goodbye for good.

She looks up at you, and there's something in her eyes that you can't quite read. It's not anger or sadness. It's more like resignation.

"Goodbye, then," she says, and she kisses you.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative. But it quickly grows more intense. Your hands slide down to cup her ass, and you lift her. She wraps her legs around your waist, and the two of you stumble backwards until you hit the wall. Her hands are in your hair, pulling at the strands as she kisses you with a ferocity that takes your breath away.

Beneath the shirt is only a pair of panties, tight against her ass. You run your hands over them, squeezing and groping, and she moans into your mouth. Her hips grind against yours, and you can feel her heat through the fabric of her panties. You want her, and you know she wants you, too.

"Fuck me one last time," she whispers in your ear, and you don't need to be told twice. Miyeon wraps her thighs high on your waist, making you crane your neck back a little to keep kissing her, but it means you can unbuckle your trousers and push them down. Your hands are back on her ass, pulling her panties to the side, and your fingers run through her lower lips. She's wet. She's already ready for you. She always has been, from the first time to this one.

She's so light that it makes it easy to step forward and turn, now it's her turn to be pinned against the wall. Holding Miyeon by that tight little ass, you lower her onto your cock and she fits so easily that she slides down the entire length. Her head is thrown back, and her mouth hangs open in pleasure.

There's a gasp, of both surprise and pleasure as you fill her. You can feel her walls stretching around you, accommodating your size. You give her a moment to get used to the feeling, and then you start to move. You pull out almost all the way, before sliding back in, and her moans fill the air. Her body is pressed tightly against yours, and you can feel her heartbeat racing.

Her shoulders are pressed square against the wall, it's enough to support her. Her legs are tight around your waist. Every time you pull back, you draw her hips away from the wall, only to drive her back against it with every thrust. She bounces between the hard surface and your cock. It's so forceful that you're worried you might break something, and that only drives you to fuck her harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud in the apartment, and you're sure the neighbours can hear, but you don't care.

You're nailing Miyeon to the wall with the sort of rough recklessness that only comes at the end of a relationship. You have no more fucks left to give about the consequences, and you're making the most of your last hurrah.

Miyeon's moaning loudly, her voice rising in pitch with every thrust. You're hitting all the right spots, and you can tell she's close. You angle your hips in the way you know she likes, and she cries out, her body shaking as she comes undone around you. You keep going, fucking her through her orgasm, and it's not long before you're close to the edge too.

Miyeon's moans are in your ear, they're so familiar. The way her body moves with yours. It's a sensation that's been burned into your memory, and you can't imagine ever forgetting it. You feel her nails scratching at your shirt. It's not enough to break skin, but you'll feel it tomorrow, a dull ache in your back.

"Give me a night to remember," she whispers, her voice breathy and desperate. "Fuck me so hard that I can't forget."

You're stumbling towards the kitchen table now, and she's clinging to you as if her life depended on it. You set her down, planting her cute ass on the glass surface. You set her back with a gentle hand on her chest, lying her flat against the surface, her hair splayed out behind her. She's looking up at you with that regal stare, the one she gives in the magazines, but it's not the perfect image you've seen on the posters. No, Miyeon's flush, and she's all the better for it.

In the most loving way you can, you tell her, "I hate you."

"I hate you, too."

Your hands are on her thighs, pushing them apart, and she's so wet that you can see it glistening on her skin. You slide into her easily, and she cries out as you bottom out inside her. You start to move, but it's uncharacteristically slow. "Take off your shirt," you tell her.

Her hands are too shaky for the small buttons but she's trying her best, starting from the bottom and working up. Even with your controlled thrusts, Miyeon is distracted and her hands slip more than once. You don't help, you just keep your grip on her thighs and watch the show.

A few buttons later the shirt is falling open at her stomach. Slender and toned, but still soft. The years of performing have given her a body worth worshipping. Every little defined line is an accomplishment of its own, and you've been there to appreciate them. You plant a hand on her abs and push her down against the table. Her hands are still struggling with the buttons.

"Come on," you say. "You're taking forever."

"Fuck you," she gasps.

You can't help but chuckle, and then you pick up the pace, fucking her a little faster, a little harder. Her hands are shaking even more now, and you're not making it any easier for her. She struggles another one open, then another, and then her shirt is open, exposing her bare chest to you.

You're not in a hurry now. You're taking your time, enjoying the sight of her naked body. Her breasts are perfect teardrops, with small, pink nipples that are hard and begging to be touched. You take one in your hand, rolling it between your fingers, and she arches her back, pressing her chest into your touch. You pinch her nipple lightly, and she cries out, her hips bucking against yours.

You're still fucking her, still driving into her with long, deep strokes, and you can feel her body start to tense up as she gets closer and closer to her release. You want to make this last, but the thing about Miyeon is that she's just so easy to make cum.

She throws her hands above her head, showing herself in all her carnal glory, and her back arches off the table. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, and her eyes are screwed shut. It's beautiful, and it's also the reason you know you're not over her. Maybe you never will be. It's not just the physical attraction, it's something more, and you're not sure what it is, but it's there.

You take hold of her ankles, pulling her legs up so the underside of her thighs rests against your stomach, and her calves lie on your shoulders. Miyeon's ankles cross behind your neck, holding on tight while you keep fucking her.

Now every thrust is punctuated by a slap against her thighs, the sound is almost as beautiful as her moans.

It doesn't matter whether she loves you, or even cares about you, and you've long learned not to ask questions that you won't like the answer to. When you both need each other the most, you find a way back together. So maybe that's love. In a strange, fucked up sort of way.

There are tears in her eyes now, and you know that they're not from pain. There's a tremble in her body, and you can tell she's about to lose it. You want to take her through it, so you take a second to adjust the angle you're fucking her at, hitting that spot that drives her crazy. It's a simple change, a different hip placement, and suddenly, you're slamming against that spot, over and over, making sure every movement is perfect.

"Don't stop, I'm-" she tries, but her words trail off into incoherence. Her body spasms and her pussy clenches around you like a vice. She lets out a strangled moan, her limbs locked in place as she shakes and shudders, lost in pleasure.

You can only admire the spectacle of it all, she is a performer after all. Her body is a work of art, every curve, every line, designed just for your eyes. This is a sight you've had many times before, and each time it feels like the first, even when it's the last.

You can't allow it to end, it's a determined thought that you repeat over and over as you hold back your orgasm, instead opting to pick Miyeon up. You carry her just a few steps until you fall back onto the sofa. The show must go on.

Her legs spread wide around your hips. You let her sit back on your lap and slowly ride you, her hips moving lazily as she catches her breath. It's not fast enough to get either of you off, but it's enough to keep the fire burning. You're leaning back, just admiring the sight of her. She looks down at you with hooded eyes, biting her lip, lost in her pleasure. Your hands explore her body, roaming over her smooth skin, feeling her muscles flex as she moves. She leans back a little further, placing a hand against your knee to steady herself. That new angle hits a sweet spot inside her, and her eyes flutter shut, her lips parting slightly.

"You really want this to be the last time you ride me?" you ask. It's not much of an argument, but you don't want this to be over.

Her movements are languid, she rolls her hips sensually, the tempo steady as she grinds against you. "It's... for the best."

She sounds unconvincing, even to herself, and her voice trails off as she loses herself to the pleasure. She leans forward again, bracing herself with her hands on your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin. She picks up the pace, her hips rocking back and forth, riding you with purpose.

"That's it," you breathe, meeting her movements with your own, pushing deeper inside her. "Don't act like you aren't gonna miss this."

Her fingers dig into your shoulders even harder, and she rides you with renewed vigour, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth hanging open. You can tell she's getting close, her body trembling with the effort, her thighs quivering around you. Her perky little tits bounce their most seductive dance, drawing your hand towards one. You cup it so perfectly in your palm and Miyeon lets out the softest of whines.

"Miss it," Miyeon pants. "But we... we can't."

You take that as the cue, you grab her waist and thrust up into her tight, warm cunt. She cries out, and you do it again, and again, and again. You slam into her, your hips lifting off the sofa, fucking her hard and fast. She's panting now, her head thrown back, her hair a tangled mess. She's bouncing on your cock, her breasts shaking with every thrust. Her thighs clench around you, and she starts to cum, her walls convulsing around you. You keep fucking her, prolonging her pleasure, milking every last bit of bliss from her.

When she finally collapses on top of you, her body spent and exhausted, you roll her over and lay her out on the sofa. She's limp, barely able to move. Her eyes are unfocused, staring up at you with a dazed expression. She looks completely and utterly satisfied. It's almost a shame that she has a flight in a few hours.

With what little energy remains, she hooks one leg over the back of the sofa, presenting herself to you. You spread her legs wider and lower your head between them.

"It's not like anyone else can make you cum like I can," you say, running your tongue along her slit. She's hot and swollen from all the fucking, but she's dripping wet, and you lap up her juices eagerly.

"That's not the point," Miyeon groans right before she clasps her thighs around your head.

If the only way you could ever make your points was between Miyeon's legs, well that would be alright by you. But for now, you settle for latching onto her clit and sucking firmly, while she writhes beneath you, her back arching off the sofa. Miyeon tastes how only Miyeon can, and you lick, suck and slurp up every drop you can get.

You keep your hands busy, roaming her perfect skin, groping her ass, her thighs, and finally, when she's so close to the edge, slipping two fingers into her tight hole. The sensation is overwhelming. You can feel her walls tighten around your digits, squeezing them hard as you finger-fuck her. You twist and curl your fingers, finding that spot that drives her crazy, and her hips buck up to meet your hand, grinding against you.

The sensation is mind-numbing, but you refuse to yield. You keep licking and sucking, your fingers pounding in and out of her. She's a whimpering mess, her hands gripping the armrest of the sofa, her knuckles white. Her eyes are screwed shut, and she's biting her lip so hard you think she might draw blood. You can feel her walls clamp down around you, and you know she's close. You press on, doubling your efforts, determined to make her cum so hard that she forgets her name. You want to ruin her.

"Please don't stop," she begs. "Just keep doing that and I'm gonna-"

As if you'd stop now. You redouble your efforts, fucking her with your fingers, curling them just right, pressing against that spot that makes her toes curl. You feel a rush of wetness as she cums, her thighs clamping around your head, trapping you there. You don't stop, you keep finger-fucking her, extending her orgasm. Her body twitches and spasms, and you keep licking and sucking, drinking down every last drop of her pleasure.

When it's finally over, you look up to see Miyeon sprawled out on the sofa. "We can't keep doing this." Her chest heaving, and she's covered in sweat. She looks completely fucked out, and you love it. It's a moment to commit to memory whenever you happen across her image, so easily found these days. You want her to remember this too.

"One last one," you say, and she shakes her head, but you already know she'll give in. She always does. Because she needs this as much as you do. One more chance to enjoy each other. She doesn't resist when you guide her into position, flipping her over so she's on all fours, presenting her perfect ass to you. Miyeon reaches back, spreading her cheeks and inviting you in, while looking back at you from over her shoulder.

Miyeon doesn't moan, she squeals in delight when you sink inside of her. If it had felt good earlier, it's nothing compared to now. She's so slick and loose from previous orgasms that you slip into her with ease, filling her up completely. Your hands grip her hips, pulling her back onto you with every thrust, and she meets you eagerly, pushing back against you.

"Do you really think you're ready to give this up?" you ask, as you pound into her, your balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. "To never feel my cock inside you again?"

"Done it before," Miyeon responds through gritted teeth. She doesn't sound certain. You wrap a hand around her neck and pull her upright, holding her flush against you. With your other arm around her waist, you pin her against your chest while she desperately rolls her hips in search of stimulation.

"Yet you came right back, didn't you?" you whisper in her ear, before letting her go. Miyeon falls forward, catching herself on her forearms. Her hands grip the armrest and you plant a firm spank on her ass. "Always do."

Miyeon stops craning her neck to look back at you, faces forward and then says probably the last thing you would expect, "I have a boyfriend."

Your motions are seized, bringing the whole encounter to a sudden, crashing halt. You don't know what to say, so you just stay there, inside her.

"You weren't supposed to come here tonight," Miyeon mutters. "We weren't supposed to do this ever again."

"So... why did you?"

"Because I'm stupid. And I can't get enough of you. It's hard to say no when you show up with that look in your eyes."

She keeps talking, but you can't hear her. Your mind is racing. Jealousy stirs in the pit of your stomach, and the urge to claim what's yours takes over.

Your hands grip Miyeon's hips, pulling her back onto you roughly. She yelps, her body jolting as you slide deeper inside her. "Then tell me to stop and I will."

There's hesitation in her response. For just a brief moment, she hesitates, like she's actually considering it.

"Don't stop."

It's all you need. Your grip tightens, fingers digging into her flesh as you pull her back onto you again and again. Your hips snap forward with each thrust, burying yourself inside her completely.

You take hold of her hair, wrapping it around your fist, pulling her head back, exposing the elegant column of her neck, making her back arch. It's beautiful, like something straight out of a painting. She whimpers, a little mewl that's equal parts pain and pleasure, and the noise only spurs you on, driving you to fuck her harder, faster, your pace relentless.

"Don't stop!" she pleads, her voice ragged, desperate.

The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the lewd squelch of your cock plunging into her wet cunt, and the creaking of the couch beneath you, all punctuated by her moans and cries, rising in pitch, her voice breaking. Each thrust seems to draw another sound from her, a symphony of ecstasy.

Her nails drag across the leather surface of the couch, as you drive into her petite frame with unrestrained abandon. You fuck her like a toy, like a tool built to extract pleasure from your cock, and she takes it because it's what she needs. What you both need. And maybe that's the root of your problem. The way you feed off each other. The way you're drawn together like magnets, no matter how hard you try to resist.

You reach under Miyeon with one hand, rubbing furious circles around her engorged clit, while the other wraps loosely around her throat. You apply pressure, not enough to cut off her air completely, just enough to make her aware of your power over her. The way she surrenders herself to you, trusting you to take her to heights of pleasure she's never experienced with anyone else, it's intoxicating.

And Miyeon knows it, the little tease. She uses it to her advantage. She uses you to fulfil her deepest desires, knowing full well that you'll oblige.

You should hate her for it. A rational person would.

You feel Miyeon tense up beneath you, her body stiffening as you relentlessly rub her clit, and you can feel her orgasm approaching, building deep within her core. She gasps, her breaths coming in shallow pants, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against the sofa. She pushes back against you, meeting your thrusts with equal fervour, her body desperate for release.

And you give it to her. Hard. Without relent. Your hand presses firmer against her clit, your other wrapped loosely around her neck, her delicate skin hot and sweaty against your palm, pulsing in time with her beating heart.

"Look at me," you grunt. Miyeon turns her head and it's all in those big beautiful brown eyes. Eyes you've gazed into so often. Eyes you've missed seeing these last few weeks. She's so close that you could lean forward and kiss her, but you resist, choosing to prolong her agony just a little longer. "Cum for me."

Miyeon obeys, surrendering herself completely. Her eyes roll back, eyelids fluttering shut as she crashes over the edge, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. You don't let up, you keep pumping, driving her through it, keeping her flying high. Your fingers rub faster, harder against her sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her body shudders and shakes, her walls clamping down around you, milking you in waves. It's an incredible sensation, the way she squeezes you, and pulls you deeper into her depths, urging you to join her in ecstasy.

She's spilling down onto the sofa. Miyeon is rarely this messy, but it only happens when you really put her through the wringer, when she's so overwhelmed by pleasure that her body loses all control, giving itself over entirely to the blissful release.

She might be someone else's girlfriend now, but you're still going to fill her.

That thought pushes you past the breaking point. With a primal roar, you bury yourself inside her, bottoming out inside her depths, and you spill your seed deep within her core, coating her walls with your warmth, claiming her for yourself.

Miyeon falls limply to the cushions. She lies there, breathless, her chest heaving, her hair dishevelled. The sounds of her pleasure fade, replaced by the sounds of heavy breathing. Your chest rises and falls in rhythm with hers. You slump over her, supporting yourself on weak forearms so that you hover inches above her.

Her limp little body slips off you and onto the couch. Miyeon just lies there, panting, her chest heaving, her eyes closed. She's coated in sweat and her hair is plastered to her forehead. Her clothes are scattered all over the floor, and she lies in a pool of her own mess.

"You should leave," she whispers. You want to stay and argue the case, but you know that the ship has sailed. So you nod.

Miyeon doesn't watch you leave, she remains curled up on the sofa, with a mixture of your juices seeping out of her pussy and leaving a mess on the leather cushions. She waits until she hears the door click shut behind you to even move.

Once more for old time's sake. Once more for closure. It was fun while it lasted, but now it's over.

Though, you would argue, it’s all just a matter of perspective.

#Miyeon smut #(G)i-dle smut #male reader #kpop smut #m reader #Miyeon x reader #gidle smut #praelmas #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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kdyq · 2 months ago

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Hi, I got to know your blog recently and I loved your writing, your story of Ambessa x pregnant reader gave me an idea. What do you think of a modern au (or in the series setting if you prefer) Ambessa solo mom. Where she meets the reader and sees that the relationship between the two is getting more serious and decides to introduce formally to her children, I imagine them younger but if you want with them older it would be great too!! ❤️

A piece of her world.

AU! Milf!Ambessa x Fem!reader

context: You and Ambessa meet at a art gallery and a month later Ambessa wants the relationship to deepen by introducing you to her two kids Kino and Mel at dinner.

The first time you met Ambessa she gave off an effortlessly commanding presence drew attention the moment she entered the room. It was at a small art gallery downtown where you’d been helping a friend organize an opening. She was hard to miss her tall regal figure dressed in a tailored dark cherry red suit her sharp gaze sweeping the room as though sizing up a battlefield. What started as a simple conversation over drinks turned into dinner dates late night talks and an undeniably connection.

Months later you found yourself deeply in love with the woman who somehow balanced happiness and tenderness with ease. Still there was a part of her life she’d carefully kept at arm’s length her children.

She had spoken of them occasionally Kino her thoughtful and bookish eldest, and Mel her sarcastic and optimistic youngest. But she kept that part of her life separate not out of secrecy. But out of a deep sense of protection it doesn’t mean she didn’t trust you it’s just a motherly instinct of hers.

But it all changed one crisp Saturday morning when she invited you over for dinner.

“I think it’s time you met my children ”she said over the phone with a steady tone.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure” she replied. “You’ve become important to me and I think they need to see that.”

You smiled touched by her words. “I’d love to meet them.”

When you arrived at Ambessa’s house it was every bit as grand as you’d imagined modern and elegant with high ceilings grand decor and wide windows that let sunlight flood the space.

Ambessa greeted you at the door dressed casually for once in a fitted sweater and dark jeans. She looked calm but the slight tension in her posture betrayed her nerves.

“You’re nervous” you teased gently stepping inside.

She huffed crossing her arms. “I’m not nervous.”

“Liar” you said with a smile leaning up to kiss her cheek. “It’ll be fine.”

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hallway and two figures stepped into the room. Kino appeared first tall and composed at eighteen with a quiet confidence that made him seem older than his years.

His dark locks in a back ponytail his brown eyes landed on you. He paused for a moment studying you in a way that felt both cautious and intrigued.

“You must be [Your Name] Kino said his tone even but polite as if he were testing the waters.

“I am” you replied matching his calm energy with a warm smile.

“And you must be Kino.”

He nodded a flicker of amusement crossing his face as his lips went into a faint smirk. “Mama talks about you. A lot.”

“Does she?” You glanced at Ambessa who stood just behind him arms crossed and exuding her usual composed demeanor.

But there was a hint of softness in her expression a subtle pride as she observed the interaction. “Good things I hope?”

“She said you’re smart and funny” Kino replied his tone teasing just enough to make you smile.

Before you could respond a smaller figure darted into the room behind him. Mel at fifteen moved with a youthful energy that contrasted sharply with her brother’s calm demeanor. Though she was only a few inches shorter than Kino her presence was just as commanding her green eyes flicking between you and her mother before finally settling on you.

“So” Mel said leaning casually against the doorway with a playful smirk “you’re the one who’s been stealing all of Mom’s attention.”

“That’s me” you said with a light laugh your gaze meeting hers. “I hope that’s not a problem.”

Mel tilted her head studying you with an intensity that reminded you of Ambessa though hers had a mischievous edge. “We’ll see.”

Kino groaned rolling his eyes as he turned to his sister. “Mel seriously can you not?”

“What?” Mel shrugged her smirk growing. “I’m just saying—”

“You’re gonna scaring them off” Kino cut her off with a sigh giving you a look that said this was a regular occurrence.

Mel opened her mouth to make a comeback but Ambessa’s voice cut through the playful tension like a blade. “Enough Mel.”

Mel held up her hands in mock surrender though the mischievous twinkle in her eye remained.

Before the back and forth could escalate even more Kino turned back to you and gestured toward the living room. “Come on” he said his voice quieter now almost shy.

“I want to show you something. Mom told me you like books and I’ve been putting together a library.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise genuinely touched by the offer. “I’d love to see it.”

As he led you out of the room Mel lingered behind with Ambessa. She crossed her arms her smirk softening as she glanced at her mother. “She’s better than the last one” she muttered under her breath.

Ambessa raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Mel.”

“What? I’m just saying.”

From the doorway Ambessa watched it all unfold with a quiet intensity. Her expression softened as she observed how naturally you fit into her world. The way Kino opened up to you the ease with which you handled Mel’s sarcasm it all struck a chord deep within her. For someone so fiercely protective of her family seeing this dynamic felt like a rare moment of peace as if the pieces of her life were finally aligning.

You glanced back at her catching her eye as Kino chatted excitedly about his favorite books. She gave you a small nod In her way of saying she was glad you were here.

Ambessa watched it all unfold with a quiet intensity her expression softening as she saw how naturally you fit into her world.

After dinner you and Ambessa retreated to the back patio the stars glittering above as the cool night air wrapped around you. She poured two glasses of Syrah red wine her usual strong composure giving way to something more vulnerable.

“You were amazing with them” she said her voice low but full of emotion.

“They’re incredible kids” you replied leaning into her side. “You’ve done an amazing job with them.”

She exhaled softly her arm wrapping around your shoulders. “It hasn’t been easy ”she admitted.

“Especially after their father went away. But they’re my world.”

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore ” you said your voice gentle but firm.

Ambessa looked at you her eyes searching yours. For a moment you saw the vulnerability she so rarely let show the weight of years spent carrying the burden of being both mother and protector.

“I know”she said softly her hand brushing against your cheek. “And I’m glad it’s you.”

You stayed like that for a long time wrapped in each other’s warmth as the future stretched out before you and filled with endless possibilities.

“THE END”

AN/ TYSM @baesye for requesting this i hope I brought your vision to life. I never really thought about doing an AU ambessa x fem reader story but in the near future I will definitely make more stories in a AU once again tysm 🙏🏾🙌🏾.

+ I’m running out of photos for Ambessa so ima have to reuse them and I can’t draw for shit so I gotta do what a what girl gotta do 😭🤷🏾‍♀️.

#arcane #ambessa league of legends #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane x reader #arcane x you #mel and ambessa #ambessa x you #ambessa the chosen of the wolf #mel medarda #kino medarda #kino arcane #mel arcane #alternate universe #x fem!reader #x female reader #black fem reader

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the-flaneur · 3 months ago

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dearest darling flan would you ever consider writing for lewis 😔 i do not see nearly enough fics to justify js how attractive he is and it pains me

dont go insane (lh44)

pairing: lewis hamilton x driver!reader, platonic grid x reader

summary: when george invites some of the drivers over for a drunken presentation night, what better topic to present than your speciality? lewis' di-...outfits

warnings: suggestive mentions

wc: 1243

a/n: your wish is my command 😉 may have deviated a little bit, but dont worry i have many more fics lined up for this very attractive man

[masterlist] [request]

“ok ok everybody, thank you for joining us for the very first annual driver’s presentation night, hosted by yours truly, george russell. a connoisseur of powerpoint presentations, if i do say so myself,” george grinned.

the driver’s spare meeting room, which had been earlier crammed with spinning wheelie chairs and long white desks, had been replaced with the comfort of some old beanbags and blankets, as you, max, george, lando, oscar, charles, and alex settled in for a very long evening. as the last words left george's lips, a round of uncoordinated cheers erupted from the drunken audience. max let out an especially loud whoop before nearly faceplanting into a beanbag.

"you're all welcome," he said with exaggerated politeness. "now then, without further ado, let's dive right into our first presentation of the evening!"

he gestured grandly towards you, nearly losing his balance in the process. "everyone, please welcome the one the only, the illustrious and femioone-feminonnena…blimey…” he cackled, tossing you the screen remote, “oh you know who it is…y/n! welcome yourself up to the stage,”

"thank you, georgie poo. and hello everyone, i'm very very happy to be here tonight to present a special look back at the goat’s fashion choices. i would’ve rather regaled you with tales of his other…talents, but george made me promise to keep it pg, cause there are children here,” you giggled in front of all your friends, with a pointed look at lando and oscar, who seem to look mildly offended.

“obviously as the stunning wife of formula 1's golden boy himself," you continued, clicking onto the first slide, which showed you and lewis posed together for his recent dior collection, the boys hooting and hollering appreciatively, “i am the best and the only person able to give such a presentation, so make sure you’re listening,”

more applause and whistling followed as you clicked through to the first slide of lewis from the 2024 met gala, “of course, we gotta start off with a newfound lewis hamilton classic, the 2024 met gala. simple, classy, a great message and followed the theme, unlike so many others,” you rolled your eyes at the last bit, as the boys laughed.

“i can’t believe he disses my fashion sense, when his older met gala looks are questionable,” charles groans, swiping to show the group a photo pulled up on his phone. you sigh when you see lewis’ zig zag suit from 2019; definitely not camp enough for you or 2024 lewis.

“hey cut the man some slack,” alex laughs, seeing your pouting face, as you continue to click through the slides showcasing his various looks. the room continues to fill with laughter and playful jabs both at your commentary and the well-meaning yet snarky comments from the other drivers.

on the seventh slide, a photo of lewis in a see-through mesh top from the early 2021 season appeared on the screen, which definitely caught the drivers’ eyes. his chiseled features were highlighted with the bright backdrop, and the material of the shirt definitely emphasised his broad shoulders and toned physique. as well as the absolutely sinful tattoos criss-crossing his biceps, yummy…

"he looked absolutely dashing here, didn't he?" you purred, voice dripping with admiration. pausing the presentation, you let the image linger on the screen as you continued, "and trust me, he cleaned up even better in private that night..."

the room erupted in good-natured eye-rolls and chuckles at your suggestive remark. lando, never one to miss an opportunity, quipped, "well, we all knew lew was a total “stud”,"

oscar snorted, "yeah, until he decides to show up to the races in a black shirt and pants with hummingbirds on it," the others groaned in agreement, recalling lewis' infamous (amongst the drivers) outfit choice from several years prior. you laughed, unfazed by the teasing, "okay, okay, i get it. but this look right here? classic lewis - sophisticated, stylish, and undeniably sexy,” pointing once again to another showstopper lewis look.

you continued to advance the slideshow to the next image, another candid shot of you and lewis leaving a glamorous red-carpet event hand-in-hand. george leaned in to whisper something to alex, both of them grinning mischievously.

george, still smitten with his own awaiting powerpoint prowess, decided to inject some competitiveness into the situation. "alright, let's not forget why we're really here, shall we? fashion, schmashion - who still really wants to hear more about y/n's insightful analysis of lewis's wardrobe choices?"

the room erupted in laughter, as you shot george a stern look, "hey now, my presentation is far more interesting than your mediocre slide designs, george!"

undeterred, george retorted, "oh yeah?”

your face grew warm at the snide remark, but a spark of competitiveness ignited in your eyes. "oh, i think i can handle whatever you throw my way, george! don’t mess with the best," with a dramatic flourish, you clicked the remote to advance the slideshow featuring a collage of george's most...questionable outfits from past casual outings events. the drivers gasped in unison, their jaws dropping at the sight of george sporting everything from neon-colored blazers to patterned socks that clashed with his trousers. even the most tame of them were at least questionable to the discerning eye.

max let out a low whistle, while lando and oscar burst into uncontrollable laughter. with a sly grin, you continued, “i wouldn’t get ahead with the insult boys…george ain’t the only one who needs to pay for fashion crimes,”

"let's start with you, maxie," you sighed, pulling up one singular image on the presentation, the red bull racing suit, “unfortunately, your one fashion weakness is that you have no variety. did you know out of almost all the media pictures people get of you, it’s like a 1 in 500 to get one of you not in your suit, let alone anything fashionably interesting. you really need to convince pr to dress you in something else. how else am i supposed to critique you?" you humph.

max held up his hands in mock defense, laughing along with the others. "clearly, it was a stroke of genius."

as your merciless fashion critiques continued, the room descended into a fit of giggles and playful jabs. even george couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by your preparations. lando shouted as you ripped his metaphorical fashion career away from him, "you know, if you're going to tear us apart like this, maybe we should just let you design our outfits from now on."

"oh, i think i've got enough on my plate with being mrs. hamilton already. besides, i have a feeling everyone might object to me dressing up the entire f1 grid in matching juicy couture tracksuits." the group erupted in laughter once more, and max raised his glass in a toast.

"to y/n, the only person in this room brave enough to call us out on our questionable fashion choices," max declared, his voice laced with humor and appreciation, "may her sharp tongue and keen eye for style forever keep us in check," the others echoed the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“but don’t worry i’ve saved an absolute treat for last,” you giggled, clicking towards the next slide, and the drivers, not for the first time tonight, were speechless.

there, plastered across the screen was a very…tasteful selection of lewis’ best pics. and the title: best clothes = no clothes.

being mrs hamilton was so much fun ;)

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @nina-or-anna-or-nora

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thebramblewood · 4 months ago

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Noble Vampires: Elle DeVampiro, Inna Cents, Vlad Bloodvein

(These are all clearly corny vampiric pseudonyms, aren't they?)

As you can see, I strayed pretty far from their original designs, especially with Elle and Vlad! As they fit into the context of my story, I see them as among the oldest and most elite vampires in Forgotten Hollow. They're all nobles from different eras and so were used to being waited on hand and foot, which didn't change when they became vampires. They've always been surrounded by a coterie of human thralls and lesser vampires who fulfill their every need so they never have to lift a finger.

But there are certain consequences to this eternal life of luxury. As vampires grow older, their powers can grow more potent - but the opposite is also true. If they allow their mental and physical capabilities to languish, they stagnate and eventually atrophy, leading to visible deterioration. These three are extremely delusional and out of touch with reality. They live in their own little fantasies, fully believing they look every bit as flawless and regal as they ever did even as the cracks are very much starting to show. Although their age and status intimidate younger vampires and they have their little "hazing rituals" for newborns, they're ultimately quite harmless.

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 vampires #sims 4 vampires #the zhaoverse #inna cents #elle devampiro #vlad bloodvein #btw inna still (mostly) has her beauty because she's the youngest

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mmani-e · 11 months ago

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Hello! After all this effort, behold:

DANGANRONPA DEMIX, THH EDITION!

Dr Demix 2

Finally got the talentswap designs I have for the THH characters one and done with! You can click through the read more section for some fun design insights. I'm intending on uploading a doc containing short lore bits about them eventually.

Kyoko Kirigiri - Ultimate Affluent Progeny

So Kyoko's design was both kinda simple, kinda not, wanted to give her a very fine and regal kinda attitude to her but not arrogant as that's very much Byakuya's thing. Her story is that she loves her dad more than the family business and her grandpa so she abandons detective work and just uses her brain to help her dad out.

Makoto Naegi - Ultimate Novelist

Makoto is a wonderful guy, just great all around. He loves writing children's books and happy stories. This is his main coping mechanism so he doesn't have to process any negative emotions he gets, the rest he can't process… well they go into a murderous psychopath alter.

Aoi Asahina - Ultimate Lucky Student

Shoujo protagonist Aoi. Cute, headstrong, affective, competitive, these are all the traits that make her fight for her friends and clash with Kyoko (and more often than not Byakuya) in the killing game, even when all hope seems lost… she pushes through, unafraid to let tears spill from her eyes for all those lost, but pushing all the same.

Byakuya Togami - Ultimate Detective

This one, I wanna go into more lore territory, cause I kinda memed around his last desc I gave him so here goes:

"A disgraced heir of the Togami household, Byakuya lost the competition that would've secured his riches. Disdainful and bitter, he sought out to get to the bottom of why he lost, uncovering a rabbit hole in the process. By the end, he proved his sibling a cheater, but it didn't matter because by the end as he found the sweet satisfaction of uncovering secrets and crushing liars and cheaters under the weight of their hubris far more satisfying than any inheritance."

Sayaka Maizono - Ultimate Spirit Medium

So Sayaka isn't a clairvoyant at all like Yasuhiro, in fact her entire skillset is completely different, first of all she is like an actual psychic, and I based her design off of the japanese Itako, quite loosely. Very interesting group, look it up, also she'll never use these powers in the killing game because I dunno how to even approach these rituals or what they look like or how to write them while remaining respectful, so she won't do it in a killing game for the express reason of her not having the right tools available and not wanting to disrespect her traditions.

Leon Kuwata - Ultimate Swimmer

I really wanna draw him again, all these characters again tbh, and I wanna show off the patterns on his wetsuit. It's a whole coral reef under there, that anemone and clownfish bit is only one part of a whole reef stretching his midline.

Sakura Ogami - Ultimate Programmer

Sakura has installed chips into her body to help optimize her body processes and also cause why not. As for the muscles, she's an Assembly programmer, the programs she's made can run on calculators she loves it.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Ultimate Martial Artist

Chihiro's design here with the two belts is an explicit nod to his preferred martial art - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, so unlike Sakura in canon who'd be easy to imagine cracking someone's skull in half with a chop, Chihiro's approach is more crawling onto someone and bringing them down to the floor with grappling like an angry halfling monk. As for the belts themselves, on his head is his final junior belt, while around his waist is his current belt, he's not a black belt yet because he's still too young for it.

Celestia Ludenberg - Ultimate Baseball Star

Celestia actually isn't a legend in this AU, Taeko is. Celestia hates that and wants to start a baseball career going international, whatever the hell that means is up to her own definition, but she wants to be remembered forever as Celestia, not Taeko. Also extra sentence, but this is the SINGLE hardest design I've ever had to deal with here, I think in the future I'll be drawing all her little accessories and I have an alt costume for her I have in mind.

Hifumi Yamada - Ultimate Pop Star

So I changed Hifumi's story as I originally outlined in the OG post with him. He was friends with Aoi all his life, pretty much his only friend at all, and ever since he was little he had an obsession with writing songs, because he was obsessed with stuff like anime openings and was content to just keep the songs to himself. It wasn't till Aoi convinced him to share some of his songs that he started his journey to success, but bc he's not traditionally attractive, his first hits were literally just… his voice being played over other more attractive singers and it wasn't until very very recently that he even performed a song of his for the first time.

Toko Fukawa - Ultimate Fanfic Writer

So while Hifumi was clearly a Doujinshi but due to weird translation, ended up as fanfic creator, Touko is straight up a FF then Wattpad then AO3 girl, who would get obsessed with this really shitty, tripe manga that she didn't even like reading. It did however have super hot dudes in it, so she wrote good stories of those characters when she got frustrated with the actual authorial content - which was always.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - Ultimate Gambler

Quite LITERALLY the never stop gambling meme personified into a guy. He can lose 3 mil on slot machines but always comes out fine because it means if he keeps gambling he'll eventually run into his 1/3 and win giga millions, what he needs to pay off his debts. It isn't just with luck though either because his personality and lack of intelligence or understanding of most the rules of the games he plays means he'll never react the way he should when getting a good hand in poker or a bad draw in blackjack, so he wins those games almost always through just… stupidity.

Mukuro Ikusaba - Ultimate Biker

She's number 16 in her gang, and is easily the most loyal enforcer and taskman of the gang. She does anything she's told, to a grim and disciplined degree not typical for hooligan bike gangers, she doesn't really desire a seat as top dog of the gang though, after all she's got school to worry about, and her sister.

Mondo Owada - Ultimate Warlord

So his relationship and Kiyotaka's is gonna be interesting, because I don't want him to be exactly like Mukuro at all, who was just sort of an all-obsessed Yandere. It's more like he's always chafing under Taka, who is less than friendly with him in this AU, really the main way he even lets Taka boss him around is because he pays incredibly well and helps keep his gang members from devolving back into the unstructured, chaotic criminal life, the same that took his brother years ago.

Oh and yeah, he still looks like Guile, as he should.

Sparkling Justice - Ultimate Killer Killer

Yeah it's a reference to Killer Killer, sue me I love the manga. He has Hajirahara's ahoge, and I thought it'd be cute to also give him a mask just like the other Makoto from a Kodaka game series (Raincode.) Also, while Genocide jack stuffs all her scissors in her skirt, Makoto keeps a truth gun with "truth bullets" as his main weapon, the gun he stores inside the big book in the chibi of just Makoto, and the bullets kept on his person as the red buttons all over his body, which he pulls out when he needs to reload.

"Kiyotaka Ishimaru" - Ultimate Fashionista

Unlike Mukuro and Junko, Mondo absolutely cannot hide the fact that he acts nothing like Kiyotaka, though this is surprisingly fine to everyone else, because unlike Junko who plastered herself onto literally everything, Mondo always obfuscated himself from the public spotlight, at most showing only his suits while he hid his face behind something conveniently placed. Which played primarily to his vision of an ultimate fashionista, who was above everyone and catered to the rich and powerful.

Junko Enoshima - Ultimate Moral Compass

This was a fun one, I decided to let her have her red hair because I believe it to be the "natural" look of her hair, while attaching little clips of dyed hair to her buns as a replacement to keep her shape sorta and keep the strawberry blonde somwehere on her. Understand that while she is the "moral compass" she is still pretty deranged, and the only reason she focuses so much on keeping everyone on their best behavior is because it's endlessly entertaining to her to make her fellow moral committee members upset when she blatantly makes a mockery of the rules while still keeping kids on their best behavior to make a point.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Ultimate Fashionista and Tyrant, the Iron Hand of Despair

Taka's design I wanted to sort of focus on this sort of, holier-than-thou idea, where I wanted to make him look a lot fancier and upper-class than Junko does in his standard highschool fit compared to him. I wanted him to have an upper-crust sort of look

If you're reading this after reading this all, thanks! You're a wonderful person :) Signing off...

Mani

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snowballseal · 4 months ago

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Guard Dog AU - Zayne

Summary: AU where you are the Foreseer, and Zayne is a human you've given your blessing to who has devoted his life to staying by your side, protecting you, and worshipping you. He would do anything for you. Anything.

Word County: 2744

Note: Sooooo, I went a bit feral with this one... Could be interpreted as very sub-like behavior for Zayne, but I feel like we all know this man just wants to worship his partner. So yah. I'll be writing similar au's for the other guys too, but this one might be my magnum opus.

Coming soon: Sylus / Xavier / Rafayel

Warning: Gets a little, spicy at the end, but mostly by implication. Reader likes to touch Zayne's face a lot. Someone calls Zayne a concubine and you get pissed.

Enjoy!

---

“Kneel.”

You stare, features a mask of icy indifference, at the human envoy wavering at the foot of your throne. They shiver in their thick coats, no material warm enough to keep out the biting cold of the Tower of Thorns. The biting cold of your glare.

Yet, still, they don’t kneel. You can see the hesitation on their faces, the pride flashing behind their irises. Humans. They always come, high and mighty, thinking themselves better than you, a demigod.

Your lips part, a scathing reproach ready on your tongue, but you don’t get the chance to correct their insolence.

“I said. Kneel.”

Zayne slams his staff into the polished, white granite. The sound of it echoes all the way to the far halls of the tower. The thinly veiled threat behind his words is unmistakable. Kneel before I make you.

The humans all crumble under the weight of his command. They drop to their knees, one by one, trembling at the pure contempt burning behind his gaze. Contempt for them and their human greed. They don’t even deserve to gaze upon the threads of your robes, let alone kneel in your presence, yet they think themselves above it? You may have mercy on their kind, but Zayne would rather cut them to their knees than allow them to show you such disrespect.

A faint smile ghosts across your lips. With the barest flick of your fingers, Zayne returns obediently to your side. He drops gracefully to one knee, head bowed, eyes locked on the unblemished edge of your robes.

It’s almost amusing, watching him turn so docile, so small for you. A man who conquers you in height and strength, who holds himself with the regal poise of royalty, who you’ve blessed with powers no man can dream of - a submissive guard dog at your feet. Ready to kill if you desire him to. Willing to die for you.

“Foreseer-”

Your smile falls away. Right, the humans. Eyes icing over once more, you turn your gaze to the envoy, regarding them with disinterest.

“What do you want, that you’ve come all this way and disturbed my peace?” Your voice rings like a delicate chime, but carries the bite of a frigid river.

The one who spoke - a man dressed in expensive looking furs, his skin covered in a layer of sweat - flinches at the sharpness of your tone. He seems to steel himself for a moment, collecting whatever pathetic bravery he has gained from his comfortable life, and looks up at you with a determined glare.

“We’ve come here for a prophecy, Foreseer,” he starts again, voice muggish and demanding, “Our kingdom has experienced prosperity in the passing years and our king would like to be certain that it will continue.”

Zayne tenses beside you, his fingers tightening around his staff. You can see him fighting the urge to put this man in his place, his jaw drawing so taut it almost looks painful. Letting out a low hum, you reach out and brush your fingers through the dark strands of hair. A silent request. Zayne wavers, his breath faltering as all his attention falls back on you.

Always on you.

Your touch is gentle but insistent, your delicate fingertips tracing his temple, his cheek, his jaw. It leaves his skin tingling, pleasant and cold. It’s an addictive feeling and he can’t help but yearn for more. Zayne nuzzles into your palm, pressing his lips to your skin in reverent gratitude when you give him exactly what he wants, your fingers brushing more firmly against his face.

An uncomfortable cough breaks the silence, “Foreseer-”

“I heard your explanation,” you interrupt him sharply, a wave of frustration washing over you. Zayne can feel it, feels his own frustration at having your attention drawn away from him. But he doesn’t dare make that known, instead watching your face attentively as you speak. “And I will remind you that my prophecies will not be bound to your expectations. They are bound to nothing but fate, so I advise you to deliberate on what you are asking of me.”

“Our King simply wants to ensure that our prosperity will continue,” the man insists, as if you’re the fool who is missing the point. He levels you with a look of disdain, his eyes not so subtly darting to the hand you now have resting in Zayne’s hair. “Though I am certain now that our Highness would not care for the words of a mere oracle who keeps a concubine as her guard.”

The air in the chamber goes deathly still once the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes narrow at the man, glacier and even, but he keeps his chin held high. The rest of the envoy all shift, sharing uneasy glances between themselves. It seems even they know that what he said was a foolish mistake.

One should not anger a god so carelessly.

Slowly, deliberately, you stand from your throne. A flick of your hand and your own scepter appears from the air, the Creatio Protocore glinting dangerously from its tangle of wood. All eyes fall on it, a mix of fear and greed, all eyes except for Zayne’s, which remain glued to you.

Every step you take, every subtle movement, is controlled, the utter definition of grace. Even the air bows to you, shivering around your form, any remaining warmth fleeing from your presence. Tendrils of ice spread along the granite, creeping up the walls, covering the windows, turning the room into a prison of your anger.

And Zayne can’t help but watch, transfixed, adoration curling in the depths of his being. Because this is you, his goddess, his queen. He may be your guardian, but he is well aware that his title is by grace alone, and not necessity. You’ve never needed him. Not like this.

“You seem unaware of whom you speak to,” you murmur, patience tested and gone, “So let me remind you.”

The man lets out a yelp as ice suddenly grips his boots. You feel a flicker of satisfaction at the panic in his eyes, his confidence disappearing like a leaf carried away by the wind. His companions scatter back, looking on in terror as the ice travels up his legs, encasing the entire lower half of his body.

“I am the Foreseer,” you say, stopping a mere foot away from him. “The demigod of the Tower of Thorns. This is my domain, my home, and you are a pest. I owe you nothing. I owe your king nothing. As far as I am concerned, he is beneath me.”

“You insolent- He is our king!” The man spirts, turning a drastic shade of red. “I demand you show him respect, you despicable wi-”

A dagger presses deftly to the man’s neck and he goes silent, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

“Be silent,” Zayne snarls, “How dare you speak to the Foreseer in such a way.”

You glance at him over the man’s shoulder, brow flicking up. Any other time, it would warm your heart to see Zayne stand up for you, and you would gladly let him cross the boundaries of his position, to act as he sees fit. To act freely. But in this moment, all you can feel is the rage boiling in the depths of your soul. It’s your turn to show them their mistakes.

So you click your tongue, eyes narrowing, “I did not ask for you to intervene, my dearest.”

Zayne doesn’t miss the sharp disapproval in your voice, his breath catching somewhere in his chest. How thoughtless of him. Dagger slipping back into the sleeve of his robes, he forces himself to step back, head bowed like a wolf bearing its neck submissively.

“I apologize, my lady.”

You don’t offer your forgiveness, only giving him a stiff nod, and Zayne can feel his skin prickle with unease. Every fiber of his being aches, desperate to earn your affection, to please you, to offer an apology you deem sufficient.

If you want him to grovel, he will. If you want him to beg, he’ll do so until his voice gives out. Even if you want to punish him, he’d take it with such deep affection, because anything from you is more than he deserves.

But until you ask anything of him, all he can do is wait.

And currently, you must deal with the nuisance in front of you, even if you can feel Zayne’s laden eyes locked on you so intently.

“Now let’s talk about your king, shall we?” You muse, turning your attention back to the man. He swallows, regret showing in the way his hands tremble so viciously. “You humans have such a twisted view of power. Whether it’s money or prosperity or health. You are all subject to fate and that is why you hate my prophecy. Your king is no different, and I presume he’s looking for someone to blame when your land inevitably falls into poverty. In fact, I feel confident in saying he already sees it coming, and I would wager that he is the sole cause of it. Am I wrong?”

A low murmur spreads among the envoy. The man goes nearly purple in front of you, face tight with indignation, but he doesn’t dare utter a word, not with the looming threat of Zayne’s blade still nearby.

You don’t need him to confirm what you already know, though. And you’ve had enough of this messing around. The day has been too long, and you desire nothing more than to rest.

“Tell your king that this mere oracle wishes him well in his remaining time on the throne,” you chime and turn to walk away. Your voice carries on over the clicking of your heels, “However short that time might be.”

“You can’t-! Foreseer!”

“See them out, my dearest, and then meet me in my quarters.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Foreseer-!” The man calls again, but Zayne doesn’t even allow him another glimpse at your figure. He’s lost that honor.

“I believe it’s time for you to leave,” he snaps, and breaks the spell of your ice.

The man immediately tries to make a run for you, desperation carved into every line of his face, but Zayne catches him by the collar of his coat and throws him back towards the rest of his party. His eyes set on them, harsh and cold, a sneer pulling at his lips.

“She has dismissed you. I suggest you leave quietly before you test my patience.”

“I will not listen to the orders of a-”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a sigil carve into the air before a blinding light fills the space. The humans flee from the sudden ice clawing at their feet, voices tight with panic, boots slipping against the granite in their desperation.

A faint smile pulls at your lips as you dip into a hallway. Zayne always has been good at scaring people away.

It’s a quiet venture to your room at the top of the tower after that. The howling gale outside is all you can hear, muffled by the thick stone of the tower’s walls. It’s a somehow comforting sound, soothing some your prickled nerves.

Still, you feel tense as you settle on the edge of your bed. Dealing with the humans always does this to you. That’s why you ended up here, in the desolate, snowy mountains, far from any village or kingdom. Dealing with them is too exhausting.

How many humans have come to you, begging for an audience, only to throw themselves into a rage after you share one of your prophecies? A prophecy you can’t control, you can’t change. Yet they always blame you.

You can hardly be blamed for resenting their kind.

All of them except Zayne.

Your dearest. Your steadfast peace. The comfort of your isolation was no match when he came to your tower.

And your frustration melts like snow in the springtime when he appears at your door, wavering at threshold. Hesitation furrows his brow, his fingers twitching against the frame. Features softening, you gesture for him to enter.

“Come here, my dearest,” you murmur, tone impossibly gentle.

He hesitates for only a moment before sweeping across the room, reaching you with only a few long strides. You watch as he kneels at your feet, the thick fur of his robes gathering on the stone floor around him. And of course you notice the way his lips press together so vehemently, like he’s biting back something.

“Please speak, darling.”

Zayne’s eyes flutter shut, a shuddering breath passing his lips. You always say the term with such sweetness, such tenderness. It makes him feel dizzy and near breathless, loved in a way that makes his chest ache.

“May I touch you?” He asks, voice a low rasp.

You don’t even have to think to answer, “Of course you may, my dearest.”

With all the care in the world, Zayne gathers the edge of your robes in his gloved hand, drawing the silken material to his lips. His touch is reverent, like even the clothes on your body are deserving of worship. He takes his time, showering each fiber with devout affection, eyes slowly trailing up the material to gaze at you through ebony eyelashes. And you can’t help the way your breath falters so easily for him, always taken aback by the desperation, the hunger you find there.

Something dark glints behind those mottled depths at the sound. Slowly, experimentally he presses closer. When you don’t correct him, his fingers brush questioningly against your ankle, the warmth of his skin seeping through the leather of his gloves. And you’ve never been one to deny him.

Parting your legs, you let Zayne settle between them, your knees bracketing his wide shoulders. His fingers trace adoringly up and down your leg as he nuzzles into your clothed thigh, like a pup starved for affection. You can feel the warmth of his breath, even through the thick material of your cloak, and it makes your usually sharp mind spin.

“Please forgive my earlier thoughtlessness, my love,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing insistently against your inner thigh. “I will accept any punishment to atone for my actions.”

Gods, you never thought you would be so weak for one man. But how could you not be? How can you not crumble under such earnest devotion?

You’d freeze the world over if it meant having him forever at your side.

“You have quite the tactic for coaxing me to forgive you,” you breathe, reaching a hand down to trace through his hair. Zayne immediately leans into your touch, molten eyes soft with feigned innocence.

“I am simply a humble servant, unworthy of your favor, my lady,” he hums, eyelashes fluttering when your grip tightens momentarily in his hair. It’s only then a mischievous smile reveals itself on his lips. “How can I coax a goddess such as yourself to do something against your will?”

“You know full well what you’re doing, dearest.” You lean down, until your cool breath ghosts over his skin, sending a shiver through Zayne’s body. His bravado slips away, replaced by an uneven breath, his lips parting ever so slightly. “And there’s no need for it. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, and that includes my forgiveness. All you ever have to do is ask.”

“You shouldn’t offer such things so lightly, my lady,” Zayne rasps, fingers pressing tightly into the softness of your leg as he forces himself to glance away. “You underestimate how selfish my desire for you is. I would take everything if you allowed it.”

Suddenly, your touch is on his chin, drawing his face back to yours, until he can feel the brush of your lips against his, taunting and delicate.

“If you want everything,” you challenge softly, gaze unwavering, “then take it.”

Zayne inhales sharply. And then his lips are on yours, kissing you so deeply, so tenderly, like he wants to draw the very breath from your lungs, like you’re the only one who can sate his hunger burning inside of him.

And you let him. You let him take everything he desires, because he always gives you everything you could ever desire.

That is how it has always been between the two of you. And that’s how it will always be.

---

This felt pretty different from what I usually write. I was inspired by an Xavier fic I read sometime back, and I just loooove the concept of truly feral levels of loyalty. And I love the idea of reader being just a feral for him.

Can't wait to write Sylus' 😉

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace reader insert #reader insert #x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #guard dog au series #sub zayne #love and deepspace zayne x reader #feeling feral

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papayacinnabun · 2 months ago

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christmas day - oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count - 1.2k

summary - opening presents on christmas morning with bf oscar

warnings - kissing, mostly fluff!

a/n - this is short and super late but merry christmas to those who celebrate! I feel like bf oscar is great at gift giving, lily sure is lucky :) masterlist here

everything was perfect.

you got up early to make breakfast, unable to contain your excitement for the day. you've loved christmas ever since you were a little girl, and this year was no different. but this year, you got to open presents with your boyfriend.

he was perfect. sweet, kind, attentive, passionate– everything you’ve ever wanted. you'd been dating for a little over 6 months now, right in that sweet spot of newfound love and genuine commitment. for your first christmas together, you agreed on small gifts. nothing fancy or extravagant, you had your entire lives for that. this first christmas was meant for something meaningful, a testament to your relationship.

you flip the eggs over, frying them the way oscar likes, squinting as the sun shines through the windows of the spacious monaco apartment. your bare feet padded across the tile floor as you grabbed some slices of bread to toast. the only other sound you could hear was the crackling of the eggs in the pan.

this was much unlike the christmases you were used to, which were usually blanketed in snow, but it was a welcome change. it was still quiet out, the city still waking slowly to find presents placed under their trees. the tree in oscar’s apartment had been a bit sad before you spruced it up. its branches were occupied by just a few homemade ornaments from oscar’s childhood, but that was it. it was still low–key by all means, but more worthy of being called a christmas tree now with the addition of some ribbon and shiny ornaments. and of course you added a star, one of your grandmother’s heirlooms that had finally made its way to you. it now sat perched atop the tree like a regal crown.

the bedroom door opened with a low creak, as a sleepy oscar stepped out with a smile.

“good morning love, merry christmas!” he said sweetly, walking over to the kitchen to place a kiss on your cheek. you leaned into his warm touch as he wrapped his arms around your waist and embraced you from behind, inhaling his scent. oscar radiated warmth, and creases lined his cheeks, evidence of his deep sleep.

“eat first, then we open presents.” you slid a plate filled with bacon, eggs, toast, and a croissant over to him as he sat down at the table.

“presents? i already have everything i want.” he looked up at you cheekily, already digging into his breakfast. “mmm wow this is good. thanks babe,” he moaned out as he chewed his food, a stupidly big smile on his face already.

you rolled your eyes and brought your own plate to the table, sitting across from him. your feet touched his innocently under the table, your fluffy socks meeting his as you sat eating in comfortable silence. anticipation was palpable between the two of you, oscar making it glaringly obvious by shoveling his food in his mouth as fast as possible. you took it a bit easier, knowing there was no rush to get the day started.

you took your last bite and oscar snatched the empty plate from under you, taking the dirty dishes straight to the sink.

“okay okay time for presents.” he yanked your chair out from the table and pushed you off it, scooping you up to carry you to the tree.

“oscar! let me down!” you giggled as he set you down in front of the tree, placing a pretty gift bag in front of you. you gave him a look as you handed him two gift wrapped boxes, raising your eyebrows as you beamed.

“okay baby, open yours first.” you say and look at him expectantly. he eagerly ripped open the wrapping paper of the first box, clawing it off excitedly. a flat white box remained, but as he opened the top, a picture frame sat inside.

inside the picture frame was a few pieces of confetti from his first win in hungary earlier this year. a small gold plaque as the bottom read “osc’s first win 2024”.

oscar looked up at you, clearly at a loss for words. his eyes conveyed an intense love and gratitude, which was then confirmed with a bear hug.

“i love it baby, this is perfect. thank you so much love i can’t wait to hang it up.” he breathed out as he suffocated you in his arms, clutching so hard you could almost see stars.

you pulled him back the moment he let go, immediately kissing him on the lips sweetly. he held you close, kissing you softly until you both had to break away to breathe.

“i can’t believe you kept the confetti,” he whispered.

“of course i did. we needed something to remember that special day.” you pulled him in for another hug and then sat back down across from him. “you have one more thing,” you gesture to the second box.

he ripped the paper off just as fast as the first, and inside the box was a variety of australian candies and snacks, the good stuff you couldn’t find in monaco. oscar’s eyes widened, and so did his grin, a childlike wonderment and joy taking over him.

“i can’t find these anywhere here!” he exclaimed, holding up a box of tim tams. he leaned over to hug you again, kissing you on the cheek. “what a great surprise.”

“open yours now…” he said, setting down the box of treats to watch you intently. you pick up the bag and take out the tissue paper. inside was a rabbit stuffed animal, and a small velvet box.

“you got me a jellycat!” you squealed with joy, taking out the plushie first. “its adorable baby, how did you know ive been wanting one?”

“you talk about it every single day.” oscar deadpanned, as smile threatening to break his facade as he teased you. you rolled your eyes at him and went to hug him, but he put his hand out to stop you, “open the next one.”

you set the rabbit plushie down and gently grasped the velvet box, opening the top of it. inside was a golden heart shaped locket, with yours and oscar’s initials engraved in swirling script on the front. your mouth fell open in awe, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at the sight. it was beautiful and dainty, exactly something you would wear. you opened the locket to find a note in oscar's handwriting inside which read, “i love you.”

when reading that, you started to cry softly. it was the most lovely present you had received in a very long time. “I….i love it…i love you…” you stammered out breathlessly, unable to keep a stupid grin off your face.

oscar pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead to comfort you. “I mean it, i love you so much,” he said sincerely, taking the locket from you and fastening it around your neck.

you embraced each other warmly, soaking in the memory of your first christmas together in monaco. it had turned out better than you could ever imagine, and you were more in love than ever now.

it was perfect. the moment was perfect. this christmas was perfect.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x y/n #f1 #formula 1 #mclaren #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri one shot #f1 fluff #fluff #christmas #christmas morning #merry christmas #op81 #cinnabun writes

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 year ago

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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 11 ] || [ Chapter 13 ]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: i'm in love with gaz x2 date scene fully inspired by this artwork by @mindie-arts

Chapter 12: A Date?

Sitting across from Gaz in the warm japanese restaurant under a warm-toned lamp, you find yourself a bit flustered by how cute he looks.

Sure, you knew he was cute, of course… His pictures on Tinder more than showed it. He’s the epitome of a pretty boy, all polite and sweet, smiling bright, with those warm brown eyes that look more like pools of melted chocolate that you could find yourself sinking into like quicksand.

He ordered extra meat for himself and is currently scooping it into his bowl of Tonkotsu Ramen as you regale him with your tales of your night with Simon.

“Now, hold on-” He stopped you just as you were biting into your jammy soft-boiled egg.

“Hm?” You questioned as you cocked a brow.

“So… Let me get this straight-” He said as he slowly stirred the slices of pork in the hot broth of his ramen. “You and Ghost didn’t-” He trailed off.

“No!!! I already told you!” You replied as you shoved the rest of your halved egg into your mouth and chewed.

“Hm…” Kyle replied with a bit of an awkward smile as he started softly slurping his noodles.

“Why, ‘Hm’? What does that mean?” You asked him with a cocked brow. Kyle simply shook his head and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“I just think it’s… curious.” He admitted and shrugged. “Like… Simon is very secretive.” He explained.

“I’ve gotten that impression off him.” You replied, but Kyle nodded.

“Yeah but for a stranger, it’s easy to spot that, to understand it. But… We’ve all served with him for years now and we know nothing of him.” He explained with a shrug and an awkward smile again.

As you heard him talk, you slurped your noodles as well, holding the bowl up to your mouth as you did so.

“Soap even gasped when he found out that Ghost had a Tinder account, and the way he was chatting when he went on a date with you, well…” He trailed off and took a bite of one of his eggs as well.

“I wouldn’t call it a date.” You replied as you set down your bowl and took a sip of your drink. Across from you, Gaz did the same, sipping from his Stella Artois glass.

“You met on a dating app, had drinks, went back to yours, spent the night together… That’s a date.” He retorted and you nod your head, conceding to his point.

“Fine… I guess…” You sighed. “But I still don’t see what the big deal is.” You added. “He seems… nice. A bit weird… But nice.” You explained. “He seems like he just… needs a break.” You added and half-shrugged.

Kyle’s head dipped a bit to the side and he regarded you with gentler, softer eyes, quietly contemplating what you said.

“You’re really nice.” He ended up saying after a moment then he pressed his lips together for a moment as he watched you eat.

“Fanks.” You mumbled halfway through chewing a piece of your pork slices.

“Simon was there, you know… When you went to meet Captain Price. Just to make sure you were, you know… Normal.” Gaz quipped, which caused your eyes to widen.

“He was?” You asked sharply, your voice rising an octave for a moment.

“Ye… He… He doesn’t trust easy.” He replied.

“I’ve noticed.” You added, still a bit put off by the news.

“Well, anyway…” He trailed off. “He uh… he came back to base after you and him left the pub and he told us you were nice, normal…” He explained. “And he said that the captain was a bit reticent to be there and you were both feeling awkward… And you so sincerely told him he could leave if he wanted to and that he didn’t need to force himself to be there.” Gaz explained.

Your eyes widened a bit and your face warmed up lightly as he revealed that he knew of how you had reassured John.

“So… I guess… I guess I see it now.” Kyle admitted. “You’re very… gentle.” He ended up after searching for the right word. “A right laugh, funny as fuck, very bratty… But… nice and kind.” He added. “It’s no wonder they both felt good with you, especially Ghost.”

“Well… thanks.” You said softly, smiling sheepishly, and he did the same as he resumed eating.

“Do you feel… good with me too?” You asked him with a cocked brow and pursed lips.

Nodding at you, Kyle smiled. “Yeah, I’d say I do.” He said as he slurped his noodles again.

You resumed eating as well and, sometimes, you’d glance at one another and smile sheepishly before looking away and focusing on your meals.

“So…” You said as you reached over and dipped a gyoza in the soy sauce. “Did you really fall out of a helicopter?” You asked, which caused his eyes to light up with amusement.

“I did.” He answered with a nod and a grin on his lips.

“How did that happen?” You cocked a brow.

Thirty minutes later, you and Gaz are walking side to side as you head back to work. He’s spent most of the time regaling you with stories about work (with the proper censorship of events, dates, places and people).

You barely got a word in and yet, somehow, you don’t mind. You’re surprisingly entertained by him, by the way his eyes light up when he speaks, the way his smile grows every time a story gets a bit more action-packed…

If you didn’t know by now that he’s a soldier (and an elite one, if his stories are to be believed), you’d have called him out by now by making it all up… But he also showed you a few of his scars to prove he wasn’t lying.

As you reach the front door of your workplace, he’s just finishing up his latest story, just in time. You still have a couple of minutes to burn so you linger with him, hands clasped in front of you, as he has his own on the front pocket of his blue hoodie.

“Thanks for this.” You told him with a smile, watching as his face morphed in confusion.

“Thanks for what?” He asked you with a cocked brow and a smile on his lips.

“Well… everything? Buying me lunch, telling me so many stories, walking me to work…” You listed and chuckled. “I haven’t gotten this type of… attention in a while.” You explained.

Kyle gives you a look of disbelief. “You’ve been going out with Ghost, what do you mean you don’t-” He started but you interrupted him with a sharp ‘That’s different!’.

“Simon is very nice and I enjoyed myself greatly with him but something tells me he wouldn’t exactly want to go out for ramen on my lunch break in broad daylight, without a mask.” You quipped playfully.

“Ah- yeah, I see your point.” Kyle joked a bit.

“And, besides… I got out of a… trainwreck of a relationship recently…” You explained as you shifted your weight around on the balls and heels of your feet.

“Is that why you were on Tinder?” He asked as he dipped his head to the side in understanding.

“Mhm.” You nodded and smiled softly. “Anyway…” You trailed off. “It’s nice to have someone make time to meet up with me during lunch break and… you know… Have a date!” You replied.

“Oh it’s a date, is it?” He asked you with a smirk on his lips and a wiggling of his eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off…” You quipped and nudged him on the shoulder with your hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute…”

Kyle’s lips parted into a boyish grin as he looked at you. “You think I’m cute?” He asked, amused.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged him again and he simply laughed playfully in response.

Checking the time on your phone, you sighed. “I should go upstairs.” You told him and he nodded.

“Have a good rest of your day. And text me, yeah? I’d like to repeat this.” Kyle told you and you nodded too, smiling sheepishly.

“I plan on it.” You added and leaned up, kissing his cheek, just like you did with Simon a couple of weeks before.

Kyle smiled and chuckled softly when you pulled away. He leaned close and kissed your cheek in return, causing your cheeks to burn a bit.

You waved at him and rushed back inside your workplace. Standing outside in the pavement, Kyle watched you go through the windows, with a smile and returned the wave with a raising of his hand and a single little wave before tucking his hands back in his pockets and walking off again.

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!): @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak

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#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader

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pin-k-ink · 16 days ago

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THE PRICE OF DUTY ⋆✦⋆ kuchiki byakuya

synopsis ➸ they agreed on a marriage without love. too bad neither of them could keep their hearts out of it. now, pride and desire are the only things standing in the way.

tags ➸ marriage of convenience, power imbalance, verbal aggression, angst, hurt/comfort, masturbation, handjob, nipple play, dirty talk, heavy breeding kink, cunnilingus, unprotécted séx, creampie, praise kink

wc ➸ 17.6k (apologies in advance)

The bedroom was cloaked in stillness, the only sound the faint whisper of your steady breathing. Byakuya couldn't tear his eyes away from you, lying there fast asleep beside him. Even in slumber, you radiated an almost regal poise - back straightened by years of disciplined nobility, features composed into a serene mask of quiet confidence.

Just looking at you was enough to stir that familiar ache in Byakuya's chest. The one he tried so hard to suppress these days, burying it beneath the responsibilities and traditions he clung to like anchors in a stormy sea. But the truth was becoming harder and harder to ignore with each passing night spent at your side.

He was in love with you. Hopelessly, painfully, desperately in love.

The realization would have been terrifying enough on its own. But the true fracture in Byakuya's stolid facade came from the fact that after nearly a century of sharing this marriage bed and household with you...he remained utterly uncertain whether you returned even a shred of those feelings.

Your union had been one of pure pragmatism from the very start, after all - a business arrangement between the Kuchiki and your clan, nothing more. Two proud noble houses joined by political motivations rather than any sense of romantic affection or sentimentality. You had both agreed to those terms readily, never wavering in upholding the boundaries of polite cordiality between married partners.

No consummation or intimacy beyond the bare minimum required for public appearance's sake. Only the singular, chaste kiss exchanged during the ceremonial binding of your vows all those decades ago. An unspoken acknowledgment that this convenient partnership held no deeper meaning.

At least, that was what Byakuya had believed when you had first agreed to the arrangement. He would be lying if he claimed the idea hadn't stung a bit back then, still haunted by the ghost of his beloved Hisana even years after her passing. But you had been his dearest friend since childhood, his confidante and the one person who understood the heavy mantle of duty both of you carried.

If this rational partnership was the way to honor your family obligations while still retaining that precious bond...well, Byakuya had accepted it as a worthwhile compromise.

Until now, that was.

Now, as he stared at the delicate rise and fall of your chest with each quiet inhalation...as he drank in the elegant line of your throat and the slightly parted serenity of your lips...Byakuya found his carefully constructed walls of restraint crumbling like sodden papier-mâché in the deluge.

He ached to reach out and caress the soft skin of your cheek with the barest whisper of his fingertips. To bestow the kind of tender, adoring touch two people intimately bound were supposed to share without condition or self-imposed barriers. Most of all, he burned with the need to finally, finally lean across that maddening divide and capture your lips with his own in a searing release of all the wanting he’d silently endured for decades.

The thought caused a familiar flare of heat to spread through Byakuya's core, settling like molten embers in his loins as his eyes raked shamelessly across your sleeping form. How many times had he lain awake just like this, jaw clenched and fists knotted in the sheets as his tortured mind supplied increasingly vivid fantasies of what your body might feel like pressed against his? Of the breathy gasps and unraveling expressions he could tease from your features with each doting caress and sinuous shift of intimate, tangled limbs?

Countless. The answer was countless, relentless iterations - each more depraved and indulgent than the last.

Sometimes, in his most lascivious reveries, Byakuya allowed himself to picture taking you fully and completely as his wedded wife in truth. Of burying his aching length within your welcoming heat over and over until your hoarse cries painted the very air itself with ecstasy. Of feeling your nails scoring fire along the straining cords of his back as he devoted every ounce of himself to mapping your body's every secret erogenous plateau with fervent, open-mouthed worship.

He fantasized about losing himself so deeply in the throes of your shared passions that even coherent thought became an impossibility. About giving himself over to that feral, primal part of his soul that sang for nothing more than to claim you, ravish you, seed you with his issue in the most profane yet somehow sacred of acts.

Byakuya's breath caught in his throat as he felt the telltale stirrings of arousal needling at his groin, precipitated by those wanton daydreams that always seemed to slither in unannounced. He clenched his jaw hard enough for the tendons to strain in his neck, fighting off the growing urge to reach down and alleviate the steadily blooming ache with his own hand.

Because he knew that would only be a temporary balm, one that failed to come anywhere close to satiating the true source of this fevered, all-consuming hunger. The one solution that remained stubbornly, infuriatingly out of his reach due to years and years of accepted boundaries and ingrained propriety between you both.

In the end, Byakuya settled for clenching the bedsheets in a white-knuckled grip until his quickened breaths evened out and the lancing jolts of desire settled into a steady, smoldering thrum. All the while, his eyes remained resolutely trained on your sleeping figure, hungrily cataloging every detail as if it were the first and final time he would be permitted such an unguarded view.

Like every night preceding this one, Byakuya would persevere in silent, aching torment rather than risk shattering the delicately restrained dynamic you had both sworn yourselves to upholding. No matter how corrosive the fires of ardor raging within him might become.

He was the head of the Kuchiki Clan, after all, steeped in honor and tradition down to his very marrow. To act on these deviant urges, to forsake the promise you had made and the boundaries you both tacitly agreed to all those years ago...it would be an unforgivable, disgraceful surrender to weakness.

No matter how much his soul screamed for the exquisite release of reciprocated intimacy and desire, he would remain steadfast. Even if it meant suffering the agonizing pangs of perpetual, unrequited yearning until his dying breath.

At least, those were the maudlin affirmations Byakuya kept repeating in a desperate internal mantra as his eyes finally drifted closed, immense weariness settling over him like a shroud. Tomorrow, he would bury these tumultuous cravings once more, as he had every single day preceding this ill-fated descent into torturous infatuation.

But tonight...tonight, he would allow himself to indulge in the exquisite agony of loving you from afar for just a little while longer. To burn with smoldering embers of infinite wanting that may very well consume him entirely if left to their own insatiable devices much longer.

Byakuya's eyes fluttered open to the pale light of dawn filtering through the bedroom window. He blinked a few times, momentarily disoriented, before the soft sounds of movement from the adjoining bathroom brought everything sharply into focus.

You were awake already, no doubt freshening up and preparing for the day ahead like the steadfastly disciplined woman you were. Just the thought of you sent a flicker of heat stirring low in Byakuya's belly.

Almost of its own volition, his gaze drifted down to the tent his morning wood had pitched beneath the sheets pooled around his waist. He bit back a groan, simultaneously aroused and dismayed by his body's instinctive reaction.

For nearly a century, he'd been waking up like this more often than not - cock straining eagerly against the fabric restraints, aching and full just from the promise of another day spent in your maddening proximity. At this point, Byakuya had lost count of how many times he'd been forced to silently take himself in hand and reduce the swollen, throbbing length to a pitiful, dribbling spent mess while imagining it was your tight clenching heat milking him instead of his calloused palm.

Lost track of the mornings where he'd emerged from heated fantasies of pinning you beneath him and driving into that welcoming slick over and over, relishing your desperate whimpers and pleas for more echoing off the bedroom walls. Or the ones where he bent you over the closest surface and took you from behind like a lust-crazed beast, savoring the sight of his cock disappearing into that perfect, dripping cunt again and again.

Byakuya shuddered hard, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white. Even now, those filthy thoughts and scenarios were playing out in vivid detail in his mind's eye, stoking his desire into an insistent throbbing demand.

The soft click of the bathroom door sliding open jolted him from his indecent reverie. You stepped out, already dressed and regarding him with that carefully neutral expression you always wore.

"Good morning," you greeted him simply, as if he wasn't lying there with a painfully obvious erection tenting the sheets. As if the two of you were little more than casual acquaintances rather than husband and wife.

"Good morning," Byakuya replied stiffly, voice rougher than usual with pent-up arousal. He watched, throat tightening, as your gaze pointedly dropped to his lap before you arched one brow delicately.

"Need a hand taking care of that?" You nodded towards his straining arousal. "I am your wife, after all, even if only in name. Assisting with such...needs...falls within the parameters of our arrangement."

The clinical way you referred to what could be an incredibly intimate physical connection made something twist viciously in Byakuya's gut. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together.

"That won't be necessary," he bit out, shoving the sheets aside to rise from the bed - utterly uncaring about putting his prominent erection on display. Let you get an eyeful of what you'd spent decades neglecting despite calling yourself his wife. "I'm more than capable of taking care of this on my own as usual."

Your lips pressed into a thin line at his rebuff, eyes following the rigid length jutting obscenely from the nest of dark curls as he brushed past you towards the bathroom. There was a flicker of something in your gaze - curiosity, perhaps, or fleeting interest quickly smothered.

Just before he slid the door shut behind himself, Byakuya paused and glanced back at you over his shoulder. "Though I appreciate the courtesy of looking after my basic needs, you needn't feel obligated on that front," he stated gruffly. "I have no expectations of you as a wife beyond maintaining the appearances of our political union."

The words were a lie, and you both knew it based on how your eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Byakuya didn't give you a chance to respond. He shut himself in the bathroom, turning the lock with a decisive click as he leaned back against the door and shoved his hakama the rest of the way down his hips.

His cock sprang free, achingly hard and leaking at the tip already from his frustrated arousal. Byakuya wasted no time in wrapping a firm hand around the throbbing shaft, biting back a groan as he started to stroke himself with harsh, efficient tugs.

Closing his eyes, he instantly conjured vivid fantasies to chase his release. Of bending you over the bathroom vanity and driving into that tight, dripping heat from behind with punishing thrusts. Of your cries of pleasure echoing off the tile walls as you begged him to fuck you harder, deeper, to fill you with his seed over and over.

Byakuya's pace sped up as the scenarios played out in excruciating detail in his mind. He could almost feel your nails scoring down his back, hear your gasping moans right against his ear as he claimed you with carnal, undignified abandon.

All these decades, he'd been starving for you. Craving the feeling of his cock stretching you open on that first delicious thrust, of your feminine heat convulsing so perfectly around his rigid length as you came apart beneath his relentless pursuit of release.

With a harsh grunt, Byakuya's hips stuttered forward as he spilled his release over his pumping fist and dripping onto the polished wood below. Orgasm ripped through him in searing waves, so intense yet still pitifully unsatisfying without the real thing to chase.

When the last tremors subsided, Byakuya opened his eyes and stared numbly at the sticky mess rapidly cooling on his skin and the floor. As always, the brief moment of physical relief brought with it a crushing loneliness as he was reminded that no matter how vivid his imagination, it would never compare to the transcendent bliss of experiencing those intimate acts with his actual wife.

With you, his best friend, his equal and confidante in every sense of the word. The only person who knew him more intimately than he knew himself.

The one person eternally off limits due to the terms of the loveless marriage you had both so willingly entered into a century ago.

Byakuya cleaned himself up quickly, shoving the aching tangle of desires back into their solitary cell for the time being. When he finally emerged, you were waiting in the hallway. Likely having heard his muffled sounds of self-pleasure and aware of exactly what he'd been doing behind that closed door.

There was no judgment or recrimination in your expression, though. Just the same measured indifference he'd come to expect regarding the personal boundaries between you two.

"I'm heading to the dining hall for breakfast," you stated calmly, as if nothing untoward had occurred. "Would you care to join me?"

Byakuya stared at you for a long moment, searching for any hint of softness or deeper emotion in your carefully neutral features. As always, he found nothing save his own warped yearnings staring back at him.

"Of course," he replied tonelessly. "Let's not keep Rukia waiting."

Side by side, you fell into step towards the dining hall - closer than mere acquaintances yet separated by impenetrable walls built by years of restraint and propriety.

Byakuya couldn't help stealing sidelong glances at you as you walked, fantasies and urges already stirring anew, ravenous and insatiable as always.

Perhaps one day, when his desire overwhelmed him entirely and his noble resolve crumbled to dust, he would finally succumb to the relentless longings you so effortlessly provoked. But until that day came, he would persevere - waging a silent, never-ending war against his own unrequited needs behind the ever-present mask of indifference.

Even if he burned from the inside out holding true to the boundaries you'd sworn yourselves to so very long ago.

The dining hall was its usual stately quiet when you and Byakuya arrived, the only sounds the soft clink of porcelain and hushed voices of the staff serving the morning meal. You led the way to the head of the long table, back ramrod straight and expression composed into its typical serene mask.

Byakuya followed half a step behind, eyes tracing the elegant line of your neck before flickering away guiltily. He couldn't stop replaying the image of you from earlier, standing there so coolly offering to pleasure him out of some bizarre sense of wifely duty. The thought still made his jaw clench with a confusing swirl of arousal and irritation.

You took your customary seat at the head of the table, back facing the ornate family shrines and ancestral portraits lining the walls. Byakuya settled across from you, stealing another sidelong glance as you delicately arranged your napkin across your lap.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the soft scrape of chopsticks against porcelain as you ate in your usual refined, unhurried manner. Byakuya found himself unable to look away, absently pushing the food around his plate as he studied the slope of your nose, the fan of dark lashes brushing your cheeks with every deliberate blink.

"Is the meal not to your liking this morning, dear?" you murmured without looking up, using the affectionate term for 'husband' out of propriety despite the distinct lack of warmth behind it.

Byakuya started slightly at being addressed so directly. "No...the meal is fine," he replied gruffly. "My mind was simply...elsewhere."

Your lips curved in the barest hint of a knowing smile before you returned your attention to your half-empty bowl of rice. "I see. Well, do try to join me in the present for at least a few moments. I wish to discuss some matters pertaining to the upcoming council meeting with the elders."

And just like that, the veneer of the poised noblewoman and clan leader was firmly back in place. You launched into a succinct overview of the agenda items and your proposed positions, speaking in that same clipped, matter-of-fact tone that always made Byakuya's chest ache for reasons he could never put words to.

It was so eerily reminiscent of how his grandfather used to strategize and plan, never allowing anything as frivolous as emotional attachments or indulgent fancies to cloud his judgment regarding the clan's best interests. An echo of the same pragmatic adherence to duty and custom above all else that the Kuchiki advisors had no doubt admired in you so ardently when suggesting this marriage all those decades ago.

You were the ideal partner from their skewed perspective - unflinchingly devoted to preserving the clan's power and noble heritage with the same ruthless single-mindedness as the most stringent of the elders. No distractions, no silly romantic dalliances to clutter your focus or judgment when it came to the matters that truly mattered.

Byakuya swallowed thickly at the realization, fighting a wave of bitterness. Was that all he would ever be to you? Another piece on the chessboard of responsibilities and lineage maintenance rather than an equal partner to share your life with? The thought settled like a leaden knot in the pit of his stomach.

He was roused from his brooding reverie by the sound of the dining room door sliding open. Rukia bustled in, the youthful glow of her features at odds with the weary lines of strain carved between her brows.

"Pardon my tardiness, nii-sama, [Y/N]-dono," she said by way of greeting, bowing slightly as she hurried to take her usual seat beside Byakuya. "I was finishing up some paperwork for Captain Ukitake."

"It's quite alright, Rukia," you replied, the barest hint of maternal warmth tingeing your tone in a way Byakuya had only ever witnessed when addressing his adopted sister. "Please, help yourself. We were just discussing the upcoming clan affairs."

Byakuya watched in guarded silence as the two most important women in his world interacted with far more open affection than he had ever experienced from you. Despite your composed decorum, there was an unmistakable softness suffusing your features as you guided Rukia through the meeting notes with the same patient attentiveness he always admired about you.

It only served to reinforce the ugly, thorny resentment taking root in his chest over the detached, clinical treatment you reserved solely for him by comparison. Even now, after so many years walking in the minutely inhabited sphere of your marriage, you remained this untouchable, unknowable enigma behind an impenetrable wall of propriety. A cold, regal mystery that seemed destined to forever elude his ability to breach it no matter how fervently he yearned to.

"Speaking of important clan affairs," Rukia ventured after swallowing a bite of egg. "When do you two intend to begin the process of securing the next Kuchiki heir?"

Her innocent query hung in the air like a lead balloon as the temperature in the room seemed to plummet ten degrees instantaneously. Byakuya felt his spine stiffen, heart pounding as he cut his eyes towards you guardedly.

Your features betrayed not a single flicker of discomfort, perfectly smooth and implacable as you gathered your words to deliver the expected politic non-answer with surgical precision.

"There are no immediate plans to address providing a successor within our marriage, Rukia," you stated, each syllable clipped with familiar indifference. "Should the clan elders deem it relevant in the future, Byakuya and I will of course uphold our duties. But for now, it remains a non-issue."

The icy formality with which you brushed aside such a deeply personal matter grated on Byakuya's nerves. He could practically feel the gnashing, clawing hunger inside him rearing up in protest.

'It's always just "duties" and "obligations" with her. As if the thought of lying with me, making a child together, doesn't stir even a flicker of longing beyond cold calculations...'

He carefully schooled his features into an imperious mask as he turned his attention to Rukia, not quite able to mask the edge of rebuke in his tone. "You heard my wife. We will address the matter of an heir when the clan leadership sees fit to make it a priority for us."

'My gorgeous, maddening wife who remains as untouchable as a desert mirage no matter how feverishly I burn for her touch...'

Rukia shrank back slightly at the undercurrent of tension she could no doubt sense thickening the air between her brother and sister-in-law. She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest or simply ask another ill-advised question.

But you smoothly cut her off, ever the picture of aristocratic poise despite the hint of challenge flickering behind your gaze as it locked with Byakuya's.

"There's no need to make too much on the subject any further this morning, Rukia," you said evenly, perfectly level save for the barest undercurrent of steel woven through each syllable. "We have larger matters of importance regarding the clan's future to focus our discussion on."

'Once again, she deflects—just as she always does when the conversation nears the unspoken voids in our marriage. The empty spaces I long to fill with the genuine intimacy of a true partnership in every sense.'

The unspoken challenge simmered between you, charging the atmosphere with an electric tang that seemed to crackle along Byakuya's heated skin. He opened his mouth, some part of him aching to cut through the dense fog of pretense and avoidance and lay everything bare in that moment—

'I want her so badly it feels like there's a roaring furnace consuming me from the inside out at all times. My own wife, and yet she remains the singular source of torment and unfulfilled desire that may very well raze me to ashes before I draw my next breath—'

"Well!" Rukia's overly-bright tone sliced through the fraught silence like a klaxon blast. She was already half-risen from her seat, gaze pinging uncertainly between the two of you. "I can see this is a...rather delicate conversation I've stumbled into. I'll just go ahead and give you two some space to discuss things...privately."

She paused as if awaiting either an agreement or dismissal, but your attention remained utterly arrowed upon Byakuya. He held your stare levelly, hoping his eyes at least betrayed a fraction of the rawness currently scorching through his veins.

'Look at me, damn you—see the wretched, lust-crazed state you’ve left me in after decades of relentless yearning. The unraveling of every noble restraint I’ve forced upon myself in the name of restraint and duty.'

There was no retreat or softening in your inscrutable mask as the weighted seconds ticked by in suffocating stillness. Finally, Rukia made a small noise of surrender and simply excused herself, the shoji door sliding shut behind her in a dissonant clap of finality.

You and Byakuya were finally alone with the inexorable gauntlet lying between you thrumming with all the pent-up intensity of embers slowly fanning to life. A conflagration they both knew could either be extinguished with cold resolution once more...or finally permitted to immolate every fragile, artificial barrier separating you in one searing, cataclysmic release.

The weighted silence stretched between you, palpable and loaded like a tripwire primed for detonation at the slightest provocation. Byakuya's grip tightened fractionally on the edge of the table, jaw flexing as he struggled to maintain his veneer of implacable stoicism.

Inwardly, he felt like a treacherous inferno was raging barely restrained – one he'd been ruthlessly fighting to smother for decades upon decades. The searing licks of unanswered desire and unrequited ardor scalding through his veins each time you so much as met his stare, reminding him of every scorching fantasy he'd indulged regarding his wife.

His beautiful, untouchable wife who remained irritatingly oblivious to the all-consuming obsession slowly unraveling him from the inside out.

You arched one elegant brow, the picture of regal poise and control despite the fraught undercurrents swirling around you. "Is there a problem, dear?" you asked coolly, each syllable clipped with that familiar indifference.

Byakuya felt his throat constrict at the clinical detachment in your tone. A large part of him – the darkly primal, starved facet he'd been denying for far too long – ached to shed every last shred of pretense in that moment. To unburden himself of the ravenous truth gnawing away at the very foundations of his sanity like a relentless psychic parasite.

That he loved you, truly and desperately in spite of the pragmatic circumstances binding your marriage. That every fiber of his being howled to sear the boundaries you'd sworn between you into ash so he could finally slake his depraved thirst upon your flesh. To kiss you, take you as his wife in actuality, to make you cry out his name in rapture as he buried himself to the hilt over and over in that welcoming, scalding heat reserved only for him.

In the end, what emerged past Byakuya's gritted teeth was a mere fraction of that roiling, consuming truth.

"None, wife." He fought not to let his voice betray the barest tremor, but couldn't quite keep the roughened edges from scraping against each word. “Simply… reflecting on this morning’s discussion.”

You regarded him through narrowed eyes for a long beat, clearly sensing the evasive dishonesty behind his clipped reply. When you spoke again, a hint of that same challenge he'd glimpsed earlier bled through the deceptively mild lilt of your words.

"I see," you murmured, lips pursing in a subtle moue that Byakuya tried desperately not to fixate upon. "Well, should you need to...reflect anything further, you know where to find me, dear."

The blatant undercurrent of suggestion in that final endearment was like a lightning strike directly to Byakuya's groin. He shifted unconsciously on the cushion, fighting a full-body shudder as a shockwave of white-hot arousal detonated through his core. The mere thought of you extending such a brazen overture, of allowing him to indulge those perverse compulsions he'd kept on a punishingly tight leash for over a century.

It took every ounce of Byakuya's legendary self-restraint not to surge across the short distance separating you and seize your smaller frame against his body right then and there. He could practically envision it – the delicious give of those curves molding against the painfully rigid planes of his torso...your sharp inhalations of surprise quickly melting into pliant acceptance as his hands cupped the soft weight of your jaw, tilting your mouth up to finally meet his in a searing, devouring kiss.

The first of countless such shattering embraces he fully intended to worship every inch of your body with before the night was through, untold lifetimes' worth of bottled cravings finally attaining sweet, rapturous release in the most intimate joining of—

"As it happens..."

Byakuya grated out the demurral through a clenched jaw, the sharp consonants punctuated by audible strain. He ruthlessly banished the vivid fantasies, shoving them back into the shadowed recesses of his psyche before they could completely upend his tarnished control like a towering tsunami.

When he lifted his gaze back to yours, the full intensity of his longing had been masked once more behind those impenetrable walls of frigid civility. But the subtle tightening at the corners of his eyes betrayed the staggering effort it took to keep those virulent compulsions leashed.

"I just realized I have a few matters requiring my attention in the clan archives this afternoon," he continued tonelessly. "But I will see you again later this evening, [Y/N]."

The words held a pregnant pause, unspoken but no less palpable for the weight carried between them. They both knew the undercurrents simmering below the surface could only be ignored or avoided for so long before the dam finally ruptured in spectacular fashion.

Tonight may very well be when those relentless, rising tides finally crested and swept away every carefully constructed barrier fortifying the hollows between your souls.

You seemed to grasp the implications as well from the minute tightening around your eyes and the measured rise of your chest. But you simply inclined your head in a regal, understated acknowledgment.

"Very well. Don't let me keep you from those...pressing archive matters, my love." The intimate endearment seemed to drip from your tongue with heavier insinuation this time, rife with unspoken challenges and the potential for upheavals to come. "I'll be...keeping myself equally occupied until then."

With that final subtle barb lancing straight through his composure, you turned and swept from the dining hall in a billow of silk and unshakable poise. Byakuya watched your departure through a creeping haze of spiraling arousal and quietly simmering outrage.

Tonight, the shattering culmination of this exquisite torture between you would finally reach its tipping point – one way or another.

For both your sakes, he prayed fervently that you would choose the path of brutal honesty and passion when you inevitably collided once more. For he wasn't certain his beleaguered restraints could withstand another evening of needless, self-inflicted torment at your measured hands.

Not without snapping completely and simply...taking what he'd starved for all along, propriety be damned.

Night had long since fallen over the Kuchiki estate, blanketing the ornate gardens and walkways in velvety darkness. Byakuya made his way through the winding corridors towards the bedroom he shared with you, footsteps muffled against the woven tatami.

As he approached the carved wooden door, he couldn't help but slow his gait infinitesimally. Each measured step seemed to carry a strange, leaden weight - like he was being pulled along by an inexorable gravitational force rather than propelling himself by conscious will.

The soft sounds of movement filtering through the door only intensified that sensation, raising the fine hairs along the back of Byakuya's neck in a rippling wave of heightened awareness. He knew without needing to be told that you were inside, likely preparing for bed or some other nightly routine.

Just the thought of you undressed or partially disrobed in those private chambers you shared was enough to spark a dull, insistent flare of heat coiling low in Byakuya's belly. He grit his teeth against the reflexive rush, silently cursing the towering lack of restraint chipping away at his noble reserves with each passing year.

This was his wife - his childhood friend, his respected equal through every twist and tribulation life had thrown their way over the decades. Under no circumstances should he allow his thoughts to linger on such depravities and urges unfitting for the partner fate had inexplicably bound him to.

And yet, as Byakuya's hand finally wrapped around the polished wooden latch, he couldn't quite smother the vivid images scorching through his consciousness. Of you standing there disheveled and deliciously rumpled from slumber...loose sleeping yukata slipping invitingly off one shoulder to bare tantalizing hints of the feminine curves lying just beneath...

He shook his head sharply, irritation flaring as he ruthlessly banished the inappropriate fantasies. This pointless internal struggle against his baser impulses was quickly becoming exhausting in the most demoralizing sense of the word. Steeling himself, Byakuya slid the door open and stepped across the threshold with his usual implacable confidence.

You stood beside the ornate vanity, hands resting against the lacquered surface as your head turned fractionally at his entrance. Your lips parted as if to speak but whatever greeting might have tumbled forth stilled on your tongue as you took in Byakuya's rigid, almost brittle poise standing there.

For several suspended heartbeats, the two of you simply appraised one another in thick, weighty silence. Byakuya's jaw clenched hard enough for his molars to grind as his eyes traced the artfully tousled tumble of your soft tresses...the plush swell of those lips still parted in a delicious moue of surprise...the exquisite cut of bare collarbones teasing at the shadowed hints of cleavage peeking through the loose drape of your robe.

You were the very picture of artless, slumberous beauty in that moment. And Byakuya felt the ravenous ache of deprivation howling through him at the mere thought of reaching out to caress so much of that inoxicatingly soft, warm skin as had been steadfastly denied him for decades upon decades of their hollow union.

That single, maddening compulsion threatened to shatter the last tattered threads holding his civilized veneer together in one reckless surge of motion. He nearly staggered beneath the crushing tides of wanting, of pure visceral need clawing up from where he'd ruthlessly shoved it down for far too long.

"Byakuya?" Your voice cut through the thick, heated haze swirling in his mind - low and slightly rough from disuse. "Is...everything alright?"

He blinked sluggishly, realizing that in his momentary lapse of control, he hadn't so much as shifted from where he stood frozen on the threshold. Simply remained there, gripped motionless in the throes of that overwhelming flood of longing like a man stumbling across a poisonous serpent mid-coil.

When Byakuya finally found his voice, it emerged with slightly more strain laced around the edges than he would have preferred.

"Yes," he bit out tersely, still rooted there as if held in place by the forbidding gravity well of your presence alone. "I simply...was not expecting you to still be awake at this hour."

It wasn't quite an apology or excuse for his unseemly lapse, but it was enough to prompt you into action. You turned more fully towards him, clasping the sumptuous folds of your sleeping robe tighter like shielding armor against his searching eyes.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you anytime soon tonight," you countered evenly, that same subtle edge of challenge gilding each word like a barely-there blade's caress. "But since you're here now..."

You trailed off, the lingering unspoken invitation hanging pregnant between you like a looming storm front. Byakuya felt his fingers curl into fists at his sides, nails biting half-moons into his palms as his body reacted with visceral sensitivity to even the barest implications from your lips.

"I did not mean to keep you waiting," he murmured after another fraught pause. "Merely...following your earlier suggestion regarding matters requiring further processing between us, that's all."

The corners of your lips quirked upwards for the span of a solitary breath, infinitely knowing and dripping with unsubtle implication. Your tongue darted out to graze across that full lower swell for a scant second, the entirely unconscious motion searing itself across Byakuya's retinas like a brand.

"I see," you hummed lightly, gaze flicking deliberately up and down the rigid lines of Byakuya's form in a leisurely, measuring perusal. “Well, don’t let me keep you from unpacking those heavy thoughts any longer, dear. If I remember correctly, I did say I’d be available if you need any further processing.”

The taut, loaded silence stretched between you like a tightrope pulled to its breaking point. Byakuya felt the insistent thrum of his heartbeat thundering in his ears as he appraised you – still achingly tempting despite the guarded set of your shoulders.

He allowed his gaze to deliberately roam the elegant lines of your robe-draped figure one more time. Drinking in the visual splendor of soft, silken fabric pooling in artful disarray to reveal teasing flashes of skin. The delicate hollow at the base of your throat where your pulse fluttered with each subtle inhalation. The careless tangle of tresses he longed to rake his fingers through and thoroughly dishevel.

When his silver-eyed stare at last found yours again, the hunger simmering in those smoldering depths must have been plain for you to discern. Because you visibly stilled, lips parting around a nearly imperceptible hitch of breath as color bloomed high on your cheekbones.

Byakuya didn't miss the way your eyes cut away, unable to fully meet the unguarded intensity blazing in his own. A flicker of something like uncertainty crossed your features before the impassive mask slipped seamlessly back into place. But that single infinitesimal crack in your unflappable poise was all it took for the first tiny ember to ignite deep in his chest.

"You're right," he stated, the low rasp of his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic roughness that caused your lashes to flutter involuntarily. "There are...significant matters still requiring discussion between us. Issues that demand brutal honesty if there's to be any hope of processing them properly."

Moving with an unhurried, measured gait, Byakuya crossed the polished floor until mere feet separated you. At this proximity, he could detect the clean floral notes of your favorite soaps mingling with that subtle feminine musk unique to you alone. Headier and more intoxicating than any finely aged sake he'd ever indulged in.

You watched his slow approach with guarded attentiveness, throat bobbing convulsively as you fought not to retreat further. When he halted just shy of your personal space, you finally found your voice again.

"And what sorts of brutally honest discussions did you have in mind?" You arched one shapely brow, feigning nonchalance despite the sharp edges now gilding your words. "Nothing too untoward or...unbecoming for a noble lady such as myself, I should hope."

Byakuya didn't take the bait, refusing to be drawn into your familiar dance of evasion and veiled deflections. He simply canted his head slightly, cataloguing the minute shifts in your expression as he let the weighted silence drag out between you once more.

This was the closest they'd stood since that night, decades ago, when they had tentatively exchanged the customary ceremonial kiss to bind their vows in front of the clan elders. He could still remember the barest ghost of friction from your lips brushing his in that clinical, detached facsimile of greater intimacies to come.

The recollection sparked a sudden visceral pang in Byakuya's chest, like lancing open an old suture left to fester for far too long. He frowned, unable to suppress the melancholy ache bleeding into his tone.

"Do you remember the first time we embraced as children?" The words slipped out unbidden, scarcely above a murmur yet somehow carrying the crushing weight of ages across the limited distance separating your bodies. “Not just a casual gesture for appearance’s sake, but a genuine, heartfelt expression of familial affection, freely given?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the seeming non-sequitur. But when you spoke again, it was with a calculated indifference cloaking whatever genuine emotion may have flickered beneath.

"If I'm meant to recall some specific childhood incident, you'll have to be more clear." You tilted your chin up a fraction, holding Byakuya's searching stare levelly. "My memories are not necessarily as adept at trifling nostalgic reminiscences."

The bald dismissal felt like a slap, uncoiling the first lashes of frustrated irritation across Byakuya's composure. His expression hardened further as he stepped fully into your personal space, the heat radiating from your proximities suddenly suffocating rather than tempting.

"Don't play coy, [Y/N]," he bit out, each consonant ground out through gritted teeth. "You remember as well as I the intimacies we used to share – meaningless trivialities in your estimation, perhaps, but cherished moments to my recollection."

He paused, gaze raking hungrily over the delicate fan of your lashes, the subtle part of those lush lips as they parted around a sudden inhalation of breath. Seemingly despite yourself, you had leaned infinitesimally closer as he spoke, drawn in by either his proximity or the naked emotion lacing his words.

"Back then, you were not simply my dearest friend," Byakuya continued, voice lowering to an intimate rumble thick with layered history and complex longing. "You were my other half, the twin flame to my own restless spirit. We shared every precious childhood intimacy two souls could experience together – long embraces, whispered secrets, all those small yet infinitely meaningful expressions of vulnerability and trust between kindred beings."

He lifted a hand as if to reach out and cradle the elegant line of your jaw. To forge that physical connection he suddenly ached for with an intensity that stole what little air remained between you. But at the last second, rigid self-restraint locked his muscles, leaving his fingertips hovering just shy of actually making contact.

"And now..." His voice caught minutely on the hushed syllable, lashes dipping as he marshaled his next words through a tangle of tangled regrets and denied yearnings. "After nearly a century of keeping our marriage bound solely by hollow ceremony and obligation...I can scarcely recall the last time we even indulged a simple, meaningless human touch between us outside of obligation."

Byakuya's eyes slitted open again, finding yours with heated focus like answering a siren's call. The anguish and naked vulnerability burning in those mercurial depths very nearly stole your breath completely.

"Tell me, wife..." His fingertips finally skimmed the slope of your jaw in a scarcely-there caress, coaxing an audible hitch from your lips. "When did we become such utter, desolate strangers to one another?"

Your expression shifted almost imperceptibly at Byakuya's hushed accusation, lips pressing into a thin line as you visibly bristled. When you spoke again, the bald undercurrent of challenge lashing through each syllable nearly stung with its sudden force.

"Don't you dare try laying this at my feet," you stated in a low, clipped tone that brooked no argument. "Need I remind you who approached me with the suggestion of a political marriage all those years ago?"

Byakuya felt his own jaw tighten at the barb, even as a niggling sense of rightful chastisement niggled beneath the knee-jerk defensiveness flaring in his chest. You weren't wrong - he had been the one to initially float the idea of binding your ancient bloodlines through marriage, albeit couched in pragmatic inevitability rather than the least hint of amorous intent.

Your eyes narrowed, no doubt catching the fractional tells betraying his momentary concession. "That's right, I didn't think so," you continued coolly. "If I recall, the proposal involved an explicitly loveless arrangement focused solely on satisfying our family obligations through a legitimate legal partnership."

You paused, sweeping an imperious look up and down Byakuya's increasingly taut form. The full curve of your lips twisted in a wry moue, somehow both condescending and undeniably enticing all at once.

"An arrangement to which I readily agreed in good faith, never once expressing any...unreasonable expectations of deeper intimacies being involved." The final words carried an undercurrent of acidic rebuke that felt like the silk cords binding your marital pact tightening to noose-point around Byakuya's windpipe. "Unlike some, it seems."

The implication lanced straight through the last vestiges of Byakuya's carefully crafted affectations of stoicism like a red-hot branding iron. He recoiled slightly at the unveiled slight, shoulders squaring in blatant affront.

"Do not presume to cast my perspective as 'unreasonable expectations', wife," he growled, using the archaic title like a challenge rather than a term of endearment. "I have done nothing if not honor our agreement to the absolute letter these past decades, no matter how..."

He trailed off, fighting a sudden upswing of emotion clogging his throat like an iron fist. When he spoke again, the words emerged ragged and whetted against the sandpaper grind of barely restrained frustration.

"No matter how infinitely empty that hollow, affectionless existence has left me feeling inside," Byakuya rasped. “You claim to have fulfilled our ‘arrangement’ to the letter. Yet, I must take issue with such blatant dishonesty regarding the implicit matters you have so grievously neglected in your duties as my spouse!”

It was your turn to visibly bristle at his implied slight. You straightened infinitesimally, chin tilting up in blatant affront as a flash of genuine anger sparked behind the impassive facade.

"Duties?" you parroted with blistering sarcasm. "Please, elaborate further about which of my daily responsibilities running this entire household and clan I've allowed to fall so woefully short."

Byakuya crossed the final distance between you in a few heated strides, stopping just shy of your personal space and pinning you in place with the sheer barely-restrained force of his towering presence. Close enough to feel the coiled heat smoldering between your bodies, yet still maintaining that hair's breadth of respect keeping you from true physical contact.

"Your role as noble matron of this clan may be perfect," he rumbled lowly, unable to fully keep an edge of bitter ire from leeching into the words. "But your performance as my wife leaves everything to be desired, if we're speaking with such brutal honesty."

Tension coiled and crackled between you at the unveiled slight - the first volley fired across the bow of what rapidly felt like an inevitable descent into the uglier side of marital confrontation. You bristled even further, eyes flashing in a way that should not have set off such visceral sparks of perverse interest ricocheting through Byakuya's core.

"How dare you question my devotion to upholding this marriage!" The words finally detonated from your lips in a low growl, lush and vibrating with barely leashed outrage. "I have remained a consummate and steadfast partner to you in every way we agreed upon from the very start—"

"Except where it counts most, or so it would seem!"

The retort burst forth from Byakuya before he could fully leash it, reverberation through the hushed air between you with enough resonant impact to finally silence your heated tirade. His chest heaved with increasingly ragged pants as the blistering splinters of accusation began spilling unchecked past his lips - the first cracks in centuries' worth of emotional artifice and restraint finally fracturing past the breaking point.

“You behave as though hiding this loveless charade behind empty ceremony and detachment absolves you of any responsibility for the intimacy that one should rightly expect from a wife!” He snarled, raking you with a look of such heated hunger and repressed ardor, it very nearly singed your exposed skin. “As if a few meaningless gestures here and there could somehow absolve you of the responsibility to offer genuine emotional sustenance and vulnerability to the man whose name you bear!”

Silence swelled in the wake of his harsh accusations, ripe and viscous enough to scald. Byakuya realized distantly that you had both crossed into uncharted territory - stumbling into the precipice of an argument fueled by long-overdue confrontation in a way he could scarcely recall from your lifetimes shared together.

Part of him felt awash in the foreign exhilaration of finally breaching those banked emotional bulwarks you had both so rigidly maintained over the centuries. Another, smaller voice buried deep within quietly lamented the loss of equilibrium you had strived to preserve no matter the personal cost to your individual souls...

But the expression searing across your features in that suspended moment utterly scattered those introspective whispers to the seven winds. You stared back at Byakuya with an amalgam of shock, indignation, and something else infinitely more complex simmering behind your depthless irises. The sight of which catalyzed a firestorm roaring back to searing life in the deepest chambers of his psyche.

This simmering new crucible awaiting you both...this trial by fire and unleashed anguish and unslaked rapture suddenly coalescing between your mirrored souls...

You were going to burn together with Byakuya at its merciless epicenter, whether you welcomed the cleansing immolation or not. The deciding crucible was whether you both emerged from this transformative conflagration as heartbroken embers or twin flames reforged into something unbreakable and new.

Byakuya's eyes fluttered open, blinking groggily against the pale morning light filtering through the bedroom. Awareness came back in increments - the soft, rumpled bedding tangled around his legs, the subtle floral notes of your shampoo still clinging to the sheets.

And you, lying there mere inches away with your back turned towards him.

Memories of last night's confrontation slammed into Byakuya like a physical blow as he studied the elegant curve of your spine rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He could still hear the words echoing like shards of sharpened obsidian between them.

His bitter accusations that you were failing as a true wife by withholding any semblance of deeper intimacy or vulnerability in their marriage. Your enraged retorts branding him as entitled and unreasonable for expecting you to indulge those unspoken yearnings that he'd sworn from the beginning were never part of your practical agreement.

The knot of residual tension coiled fresh in Byakuya's gut as those echoes ricocheted through his consciousness again. Part of him still simmered with righteous indignation at how swiftly you'd dismissed his anguished confessions as nothing more than petulant whining.

After all, what gave you the right to judge the validity of his starvation for a genuine intimate connection in your marriage? One you continually denied him time and time again through your detached aloofness and steadfast refusal to acknowledge anything beyond cold, impersonal obligation between you?

Still, another part of Byakuya felt a pang of remorse as his gaze traced the delicate hills and valleys of your sleeping form. He knew the anger clouding his perceptions last night had been equal parts years' worth of repressed longing boiling over and sheer, virulent desperation to finally breach the icy walls you'd so skillfully constructed around yourself.

Perhaps he had been too rash, too heated in flinging those recriminations at you. Not that the central truth behind them was any less valid or raw after finally being given voice. But now, in the stark sobriety of morning after, some of the barbs and more scathing denouncements rang with an ugliness that Byakuya couldn't help feeling a flicker of regret over.

You began to stir, shoulders rolling back in a slow, languid stretch that momentarily bared the elegant sweep of your neck and collarbones to his rapt stare. Byakuya tried not to fixate too brazenly on the ephemeral glimpses of soft feminine skin emerging and vanishing beneath the shifting fabric.

He really did intend to avert his eyes with some sense of decorum once you'd fully roused. But then your torso twisted, yukata parting wider to afford him an unobstructed vignette of the lush curves barely concealed beneath – the swells of your breasts cradled in silken folds, the shadowed promise of flushed nipple peeking between sheer layers of fabric.

Byakuya's next inhalation stuttered harshly in his throat, every primal instinct searing straight to full readiness. He felt the first telltale stirrings between his thighs as his groin tightened with dull, pulsating interest. The thin bedding rapidly grew stifling, clinging snugly against the burgeoning swell claiming territory there with alarming swiftness.

As if sensing the raw undercurrent of attention suddenly searing you from behind, you turned over fully to face Byakuya with those same heavy-lidded eyes. For a breathless few heartbeats, you simply regarded one another across the scant divide separating your bodies. Byakuya's gaze was instantly, helplessly, snared by the newly exposed swell of cleavage cupped in delicate silk, your breasts rising and falling in tandem with each slow inhalation.

Your head canted infinitesimally, chin dipping in a subtle motion that allowed the yukata to drape lower with each passing second. When your gaze at last lifted and locked onto Byakuya's, there was no mistaking the sultry intensity reflected there – or the fact you had undoubtedly noticed precisely where his attentions were so raptly fixated.

He could have sworn your lips twitched towards the barest ghost of a smirk before your expression smoothed into studied neutrality once more. It was at that precise moment the rumpled bedding chose to further betray Byakuya's state. An unmistakable ridge had pitched itself into stark relief, proudly tenting the cotton in the general vicinity of his increasingly interested groin as his stiffening arousal continued taking form.

The knowing look you slanted his way made it abundantly clear you'd noticed that particular development as well. Byakuya instinctively shifted as if to conceal the obscene display, but your eyes had already traced a molten path down to the disheveled sheets before flickering back up to meet his increasingly flustered stare.

"Need some assistance this morning, husband?" you purred, raw challenge dripping from each perfectly modulated syllable.

Instantly, Byakuya felt his hackles rising at the unblushing acknowledgment of his body's state as well as the brazen implication lacing your words. Of course, on some level this blatant goading shouldn't have necessarily come as a shock – not after the no-holds-barred confrontation last night that felt like a point of no return in stripping away pretenses between you.

Still, your utter ease at addressing such deeply intimate matters so unsubtly sent a complicated slurry of emotions roiling through him. Indignation, carnal intrigue, residual resentment from your earlier dismissals...they all crashed together in a turbulent riptide that very nearly drowned out the capacity for coherent speech entirely.

In the end, what emerged past Byakuya's gritted teeth carried more growl than question.

"And just what sort of 'assistance' did you have in mind, wife?" he bit out tightly.

You didn't so much as flinch at the belligerent edge gilding his words. Simply regarded Byakuya through lowered lashes that framed you in an entrancing play of light and shadow across your delicate features. An infinitesimal pause stretched out before you wet your lips with a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue, seemingly savoring the effect the unhurried motion had on Byakuya's locked stare.

"Perhaps..." you began, voice a low, throaty purr that immediately stoked fresh vitality blazing up his spine. "A more...hands-on approach would suffice to meet your needs this morning?"

The thinly veiled overture hung in the air like a lead weight, coaxing Byakuya's breath to stutter anew as you smoothly untucked one hand from beneath the disheveled bedding. His features remained a stolid mask, but you seemed to read the roiling tides of emotion and want churning behind his eyes with unsettling accuracy.

Without preamble, you reached down and firmly grasped the sheets tenting over Byakuya's prominent erection. Your fingers curled around the swollen length, squeezing with just enough pressure to drag a harsh grunt from between his clenched teeth.

"[Y/N]..." he rasped in a low warning, silver eyes blazing. "What do you think you’re doing?"

Rather than answer directly, you simply met his searing stare and began sliding your fist up and down his trapped cock in slow, purposeful strokes. Each languid caress over the rumpled fabric had Byakuya's abdomen clenching, thick shafts of arousal lancing through him with undeniable intensity.

"Isn't this what you accused me of failing at?" you murmured, voice tinged with dark challenge as you twisted your wrist on the next firm upstroke. "Being an attentive, dutiful wife?"

Byakuya's nostrils flared as he fought for composure, every tendon straining against the urge to rut shamelessly into your snug channel of a fist. When he remained stubbornly silent, you leaned in until the suggestion of cleavage peeked from your loosened robe - close enough for him to smell the first faint wafts of your clean, feminine musk.

"Don't try to play coy with me now, dear," you breathed, lips brushing tantalizingly along the sharp ridge of his jaw. "We both know this is exactly what you've been starving for all these years..."

To punctuate the taunting words, you slowed your strokes to an agonizing grind - just the slightest bit of delicious friction to keep Byakuya teetering right on the maddening edge of release and denial. A ragged rumble vibrated up from the depths of his chest as his hips jerked uselessly, chasing that infinitesimal amount of relief.

"I'm waiting for an answer, husband," you husked against the thrumming pulse at his throat. "Is this level of wifely care and attention up to your...standards at last?"

The mockery bled through with clear insinuation, stoking the smoldering embers of Byakuya's restraint into a roaring bonfire. Before he could fully process the action, he had snarled and caught you by the nape - bodily yanking you forward until you collided against his heaving chest.

You gasped at the sudden impact, lips parting in shock as Byakuya crushed your smaller form flush against the unyielding planes of his torso. He glared down at you through heavy-lidded eyes, chest heaving with each ragged inhalation as he struggled to marshal his words.

"Don't think for one second..." He bit out the gravelly syllables like serrated blades. "That I don't see right through this pathetic little tantrum of yours, woman."

Byakuya's hand spanned the curve of your throat, fingertips digging in with unspoken warning as you swallowed audibly against the grip. Your gazes remained locked in pointed challenge, bodies thrumming with every unvoiced slight and bitter grievance still rippling between you in the aftermath of your confrontation.

"If you truly believed indulging me with empty carnal comforts alone was enough to absolve you of being such a useless, frigid wife-" He broke off in a strangled growl as you deliberately ground yourself down against his aching erection. "-then you're even more depraved and clueless than I previously gave you credit for."

There, he'd said it - flung the full brunt of pent-up frustration and accusation straight into your face with nothing left to mince. Let you retaliate or storm away in a huff, he didn't particularly care at this stage. Anything to disrupt this maddening spiral you seemed determined to plunge them both into once and for—

The thought withered in his throat as you abruptly surged forward, claiming Byakuya's parted lips in a punishing kiss that obliterated every shred of higher reasoning from his consciousness. His muffled noise of surprise quickly morphed into a guttural groan as your lithe tongue slid past his slack defenses, exploring the scalding velvet of his mouth with unrestrained ardor.

Then it was his turn to gasp as your hand snaked down underneath the sheets, fisting around the base of his cock and squeezing hard enough to send lightning bolts of rapture searing along every nerve ending. Byakuya bucked mindlessly against you as your tongue and roving palm set an unforgiving rhythm of slick heat and friction designed to thoroughly undo him, piece by agonizing piece.

Through the haze of spiraling ecstasy and bewilderment, he was dimly aware of your other hand tangling in the tumbled lengths of his hair - nails scraping deliciously against his scalp as you held him immobile against the ferocity of your mouth's onslaught. Byakuya simply surrendered himself to the maelstrom, hands roaming across every lush curve he could reach in desperation as you both finally, irrevocably shed every last pretense and barrier fortifying your union.

After what felt like an eternity had lapsed and still was nowhere near fucking enough, you finally tore your lips from Byakuya's with a harsh gasp. Hazy eyes sharpened to glittering diamonds of sheer, unfettered want as you stared into his ravaged expression like a woman beholding her next great conquest splayed out before her.

"Shut up and just take what you've been craving all this time," you husked against his swollen mouth, accent thickened with exertion and challenge. "And maybe I'll consider making an honest man out of you yet..."

The words had barely faded when you wrenched the bedding out of the way, freeing his flushed erection from its confines. The head wept a thin rivulet of pre-come that smeared against your thigh as Byakuya's hips rocked upwards, searching for some semblance of friction to relieve the excruciating need coursing through him.

He groaned deep in his throat when your palm encircled his throbbing shaft, stroking the heated length from tip to base with torturous deliberation. You watched the effect of your ministrations play across his features like a master sculptor studying the progress of her greatest masterpiece - an artistry crafted by the sensual friction of your palm and fingertips and the subtle squeeze of your thumb rolling against his swollen cockhead.

Byakuya could no longer tell how long the exquisite torture lasted. Each languid upstroke had his spine bowing in supplication, the downstroke dragging a guttural cry from somewhere deep within the caverns of his chest. Your touch was an irresistible torment - just the right balance of pressure and friction, a firm twist of your wrist as you reached the base, and the subtle scrape of your blunt nails on the way back up to the sensitive glans.

It was only after his vision began swimming that Byakuya realized his eyes had slipped shut against the deluge of sensation. The moment he forced them open again, you were there, close enough to feel the heat radiating from your naked breasts. Close enough for him to easily lunge forward and catch one plump nipple between his teeth.

Your answering moan reverberated through Byakuya's whole frame, sparking a visceral triumph that he'd finally found something to throw you off balance. He lathed the rosy peak with his tongue, suckling and nibbling until the sensitive bud hardened into a stiff pebble beneath his attention. You whimpered brokenly when he switched his attentions to the other neglected peak, your grip weakening just as the first true shivers of climax began to rack his frame.

The loss of contact dragged a guttural whine from Byakuya, muffled by his lips still fastened around your swollen nipple as his hips bucked up futilely as he searched for your hand or lips or tongue to bring him over the edge. You seemed intent on prolonging the torment, though - fingers sliding down to cradle his aching balls, nails scraping gently against the taut sac.

Byakuya's vision flashed white, entire body jerking as the first surge of release crashed through him. He came with a harsh groan, hot spurts painting his stomach and chest before your hand moved to milk the final drops from his pulsing length, inadvertently gathering the last few, pathetic remnants of his seed onto your hand.

The two of you lay there in the aftermath, chests heaving as the last tremors of release ebbed away. The heated tension that had been simmering between you both for decades evaporated into the heavy, musk-laden air.

You slowly extracted your hand from where it had been firmly gripping Byakuya's spent cock, letting the sticky evidence of his undoing streak across your palm. He watched with hooded eyes as you glanced at the pearly streaks almost distastefully before using the rumpled sheets to wipe it away.

An awkward silence descended as the post-orgasmic haze lifted and you both seemed to fully register what had just transpired between you. After nearly a century of stubbornly denying any deeper intimacies, you had just engaged in unambiguously carnal acts with the sole intent of bringing Byakuya to shattering climax.

And from the way his silver gaze kept roving over the pebbled peak of your breast - slightly reddened and slick from where his mouth had suckled with ravenous intensity - he had indulged just as greedily in whatever flesh you offered up.

Now, in the quiet stillness that followed, you seemed unable to meet Byakuya's eyes as you carefully rearranged your sleep robe over your disheveled form. He could see the faint blush tingeing your cheeks, the tension knotting your shoulders as if bracing for scathing recriminations.

But Byakuya found himself utterly bereft of the capacity for further anger or hostility in that moment. All he felt was a profound sense of...of what exactly? Satiety? Confusion? A complex snarl of emotions too tangled to fully parse in the wake of the cataclysmic shift that had just reshaped their relationship forever.

Eventually, you cleared your throat and slid off the bed, bare feet whispering against the tatami mats as you moved towards the bathroom door.

"I'm going to bathe," you stated simply, voice tightly controlled as you refused to meet his weighted gaze. "We...we can discuss...this...later."

You gestured vaguely with one hand, as if that single ambiguous wave could somehow encapsulate the entirety of what had just occurred between you both. Byakuya watched you slip through the doorway without another word, limbs feeling unaccountably heavy as the silence resettled around him.

Now alone in the aftermath's quiet stillness, he slumped back against the disheveled bedding with a ragged exhalation. His eyes drifted shut as he attempted to process the whirlwind that had just ransacked every carefully constructed barrier and unspoken agreement in their marriage.

The brutally honest confrontation triggered by years of simmering resentments and unvoiced desires...the way you had so deliberately, undeniably provoked him with those lascivious acts in retaliatory challenge...the searing, unraveling rapture of finally indulging in the intimate connection he had starved for from you throughout their union after holding back for so impossibly long...

It had all happened with such cascading swiftness, crashing over them both in a tsunami of unchecked passion that continuing to deny or ignore the fundamental seismic shift between them simply wasn't an option anymore. Not after the boundaries keeping you both so rigidly bound behind those frigid walls had been obliterated so irreparably.

The mocking, heated accusation you'd hurled at Byakuya in between each deftly skilled caress still echoed like smoke-tinged rasp in his mind.

"Shut up and just take what you've been craving all this time...maybe I'll consider making an honest man out of you yet..."

Even in the raw, blistering throes of that confrontation - and the subsequent shattering of every remaining constraint between you - he had never managed to put words to the raging, all-consuming yearning scalding through him. Not in any way that could accurately encapsulate the countless unfulfilled cravings and fevered imaginings he'd harbored deep in his most guarded recesses regarding you.

But now, with the undeniable taste of your skin still clinging to his tongue like a shameless brand...now that the walls restraining your union had crumbled to ash and the foundations left to be rebuilt upon smoldering rubble...

Byakuya could no longer avoid naming the ugly, visceral truth underlying every gnarled facet of his existence as your husband in cold, stark clarity.

He loved you. Utterly, irrevocably, with every fiber of his wretched being in a way that utterly defied the conventions of blood relation or the hollow pretenses you'd both sworn to uphold so rigidly over the years. The realization felt like a physical blow - undoing intricate ribbons of delusion that had kept him stumbling through their union in wretched half-measures and self-denial for far too long.

Byakuya opened his eyes again, throat growing viscously tight as a thousand half-formed recollections began playing out in disjointed succession across his memory. Subtle moments and infinitesimal details that now took on heightened significance in retrospect - illuminating how the towering edifice of his hubris and pride had kept him walled off from acknowledging the deeper truth flourishing beneath even as it festered like an untreated cancer.

Your rare, fleeting smiles that had always unknotted something deep and unreachable within his core...the elegant poise and unshakable pride you carried at all times that never failed to provoke stirrings of perverse, maddening desire in him...the banked spark of keen intelligence glinting behind those depthless russet irises anytime you saw straight through to the core truths he tried so desperately to conceal from the world.

It was all part and parcel to the tumultuous, passionate infatuation - no, the feverish embodiment of love itself - that had snaked its tendrils through the framework of his soul so inextricably that he could no more uproot it than rip out his own throbbing heart.

As for whether those same treacherous undercurrents flowed both ways between your entwined existences? Byakuya no longer felt certain enough in his previous delusions to discount that terrifying possibility out of hand either...not after you had so forcefully, irrefutably demonstrated your capacity to match his darkest hungers in kind mere moments ago.

A decade ago, even a year ago, Byakuya would have scoffed at such foolishly naive romantic notions about the true essence undergirding your joined fates in utter disdain. But now, as his seed dried in rapidly cooling streaks across your discarded sheets and the final ashen fragments of composure crumbled away around his raw, naked nerves...

Now, Byakuya faced the terrifyingly inescapable truth that he had always loved you, even when neither of your fractured souls could bear the weight of admitting it for what it truly was. And with the irrevocable upheaval of cataclysmic intimacy now binding you in ways you had both fought tooth and nail to avoid over the decades...there was simply no running from that ugly, all-consuming reality any longer.

Byakuya remained lying in the disheveled bedding long after the sounds of running water ceased, staring up at the ornate wooden beams spanning the ceiling above in contemplative stillness. Part of him anticipated your eventual re-emergence after finishing your bathing rituals, steeling himself for whatever terse conversation or emotional confrontation might be looming on the other side of that closed door.

Yet the shadows gradually shifted across the room's layout, morning light trickling away into the dimmer hues of late afternoon...and still you didn't return to face him. A knot of unease began unfurling low in Byakuya's belly as the weighted silence stretched on interminably, broken only by the occasional muted sounds of the manor's daily operations filtering in from beyond their private sanctuary.

When night had finally fallen in earnest over the Kuchiki grounds once more, he could no longer ignore the stark truth sinking its hooks into his resolute defenses - you were quite deliberately avoiding crossing paths with him after your earlier...indiscretion together. An ugly, all-too-familiar sense of roiling anguish stirred in Byakuya's chest as his mind immediately leapt to assume the worst possible implications.

You regretted the escalated passion that had flared so violently between you, the way your bodies had betrayed that dark, gnarled undercurrent of unfulfilled hunger in such an obscene manner. More than that, you no doubt reviled Byakuya himself for being the one to provoke you into casting propriety and restraint aside so recklessly. The disgust and recriminations you must be wallowing in at having permitted such a lapse in control, in having sunk to his depraved level even briefly.

He couldn’t help but regret installing that connecting door to the adjoining room—the one you might have used as an escape route.

Byakuya could practically envision the self-loathing and righteous indignation painting your lovely features into a rictus sneer, condemning your own moment of weakness as well as the vile man who had catalyzed it so shamelessly. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the barrage of visions and harsh realities he had only just begun bracing himself to confront.

Still, some defiant kernel of determination flared hot and brilliant in Byakuya's core as his hand fisted in the mussed bedding. No, he wouldn't simply resign himself to wilting in the wake of your retreat and rejection - hadn't he sworn to himself that he would persist in laying his truth bare no matter the consequences? This tipping point had been years...decades...lifetimes in the making between your fractured souls. To simply allow it to wither and dissipate without being given the chance to finally bloom into its full, radiant potential.

Well, he would be forsaking his fundamental identity as a man who stared down damnation without flinching from the abyss glaring back. So Byakuya rose with unhurried grace, already tugging his rumpled yukata into order and fastening his obi with sharp, precise movements. If you refused to seek him out and confront this pivotal event head-on, then he would come to you and force the issue into the blistering light of day whether you welcomed his presence or not.

It didn't take much effort to pinpoint your location thanks to the ingrained spiritual awareness thrumming between your soul strands like a richly textured vibration Byakuya could follow with eyes closed. You had retreated into one of the private studies nearer the rear private gardens, no doubt seeking solitary refuge from the intrusive reminders of your...lapse throughout the rest of the manor's confines.

Though he made no particular effort to mask his presence, Byakuya still swept through the veiled doorway like a specter born from twilight's ominous womb. You sat with your back angled towards him in a regal sprawl across one of the plush zabutons tucked into a quiet alcove. The motionless line of your shoulders betrayed no hint of having registered his arrival despite the absolute stillness enveloping the chamber around you.

Still, Byakuya knew you had felt the faintest whisper of his reiatsu sliding across your metaphysical senses like an insistent lover's caress the moment he crossed the threshold into your sanctuary. He allowed the weighted pause to fully permeate the space between you as he crossed the inlaid wood in unhurried strides, barely daring to draw an unnecessary breath.

Finally, he halted a few scant paces behind you, near enough to detect the subtle notes of your preferred jasmine oil wafting up from the elegant tumble of your hair. Byakuya felt his next inhale rasp with visceral longing to simply surge forward and draw that rich fragrance deep into his core through means more intimately satisfying than filtered air.

"You've been avoiding me," he said at last, refusing to couch the blunt statement in any veneer of pretense. They had both crossed too far over the precipice earlier to retreat back into vapid niceties and propriety at this juncture.

Your shoulders stiffened minutely at the flat declaration, though you otherwise remained facing away from him in rigid silence. Byakuya allowed the lingering beats to draw out into a fraught pause before continuing in that same measured, unhurried timbre.

“Was what transpired between us this morning truly so vile that it warrants treating me like an outcast within the walls of my own home, [Y/N]?”

There it was - the undisguised hint of challenge woven through his softly uttered words like dull razors' edges catching flesh. Your sharp inhalation was the only audible tell, but Byakuya easily detected the full-body shudder ghosting across your shoulders in the wake of his barbed implication.

"Don't be ridiculous, Byakuya," you parried at last, equally stripped of the archaic verbal niceties you typically shrouded yourselves in. "You know precisely why I require...space after the events of this morning."

Your voice hitched with the faintest waver on that last word, immediately firing a pulse of dark satisfaction lancing through Byakuya's vitals. So his earlier suspicions regarding the origins of your abrupt withdrawal and subsequent retreat appeared to have been well-founded.

"And just how long do you intend to continue deluding yourself with such hollow deflections, I wonder?" he rumbled, relishing the sharp edge lacing each acidic syllable.

You whipped around to face him fully, Back stiffening as that familiar spark of challenge flickered to life in your eyes. "Deflections?" you echoed with a derisive snort. "Rich words coming from you of all people, Byakuya."

He arched one brow cooly, undeterred by your opening volley. "Am I wrong? Or have you simply become so accustomed to your own lies that you've forgotten what emotional honesty even looks like anymore?"

The barb hit its mark, visibly ruffling your composure if only for an instant before the icy mask slammed back into place. You lifted your chin in that subtly arrogant tilt Byakuya knew so infuriatingly well.

"Why don't you just come out and say what's really eating at you already?" You took a few pointed steps across the study until you could glare up at him directly. "This self-righteous hostility of yours is getting quite old, dear husband."

Byakuya felt his jaw tighten fractionally at the thinly veiled insinuation lacing your words. That you thought him simply lashing out blindly out of bitterness or spite rather than addressing the real, scathingly painful truth festering between you.

"What's really 'eating at me', [Y/N]?" he ground out, leaning in until your noses were nearly brushing. “I’ll tell you—it’s the endless, damnable pretense we’ve both been dancing around for decades. This pathetic farce of empty rituals and unfulfilling obligations we bound ourselves to, all according to everyone else’s terms but our own.”

You bristled like an affronted cat, color heightening across those sharp cheekbones he'd spent many a furtive hour admiring from afar. "You make it sound as if we entered this arrangement under coercion!" you hissed, voice lowering to a throaty rasp. "Need I remind you who initially proposed our practical partnership to begin with?"

"Hardly," Byakuya fired back without missing a beat. “I distinctly remember proposing a pragmatic political union that met the bare minimum requirements, while still sparing us from the messier entanglements that would be unbecoming of our stations.”

His lips twisted into a cutting smirk, daring to dig a little deeper under your defenses. "What I don't recall is swearing any vows about outright neglecting even the most perfunctory of marital obligations, wife."

As expected, the implication regarding your wifely "failings" hit enough of a raw nerve to earn him an outraged snarl of breath as your fingers clenched at your sides. "How dare you attempt to frame this entire situation as me being negligent! You arrogant, entitled—"

"Entitled?!" Byakuya cut you off with a harsh bark of laughter that was anything but humorous. "You're calling me entitled for wanting more than scraps of acknowledgment and empty gestures from the woman whose name I've carried on my soul alongside every particle of my existence? Do you have any idea how that sounds leaving your lips?"

Your eyes flashed pure venom at the unsubtle dig. "So sorry to disappoint you if I haven't properly stroked your ego and fragile male pride during our several lifetimes together," you shot back with biting sarcasm. "But I wouldn't exactly consider succumbing to meaningless romantic frivolities to be one of my sworn 'wifely duties' either!"

The sound of Byakuya's teeth grinding together audibly filled the sudden stillness as you both froze in the wake of your words. He searched your indignant expression hungrily, feeling that same maddening kernel of yearning beginning to pulse with heated vitality once more.

"Meaningless frivolities..." he echoed with a slow shake of his head, relishing the way your throat worked on a tight swallow as he leaned incrementally closer. “You truly want to sit there and try to convince me that’s all you see intimacy between us as? Just empty, meaningless fluff unworthy of your precious emotional investment?”

Byakuya watched in smoldering silence as the first hairline fractures began splintering across your icy veneer of composure. You licked your lips in what seemed like an unconscious tell of discomfort before regaining yourself with visible effort.

"I'm not going to justify such a ridiculous line of inquiry with any further response," you stated, each word enunciated with utmost precision. "Especially not from someone so incapable of viewing such deeply personal matters through any lens beyond their own selfishness."

Before the words even finished leaving your lips, Byakuya had closed what little distance remained separating your bodies, his chest hovering a hairsbreadth from yours. You sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden proximity, those quicksilver eyes of yours widening a fraction before narrowing in obvious challenge at his unspoken provocation.

"Selfish?" he rumbled, the words vibrating between you like a livewire set to combust. "Maybe if you repeat the same bitter delusions often enough, you'll eventually convince even that dark, shriveled thing you call a heart that I'm the one poisoning everything between us with my indulgent selfishness."

You seemed to swell with indignant fury at the blasphemous insinuations scoring so close to bone. Byakuya could practically taste the sparks of vicious heat flaring off you in waves.

"I will not be spoken to in such a disrespectful manner!" you hissed in a low rasp of warning. "Especially not by you, Byakuya. Not after everything I've endured, everything I've sacrificed to uphold the sacred integrity of this family!"

His chuckle emerged low and ominous, teetering on the knife-edge of mockery in a way he knew would enrage you even further. "Do go on, by all means. Tell me more tall tales about all the terrible suffering you've endured at married to a man burning with obsessive passion for you."

Byakuya trailed off with a pointed look that left no illusions about his meaning. He watched your throat work convulsively around what was either denial or revulsion at the blatant overture.

“As if your painfully unrequited infatuations somehow undermine every bit of my integrity and sense of duty to this household,” you countered with naked disdain. "Just because you've become so blinded by the pitiful compulsions poisoning your perspective..."

Your next inhalation wavered audibly as Byakuya slid that final few millimeters forward until your bodies meshed seamlessly together from shoulder to knee - achingly intimate in a way you both recognized with dawning horror. Still, there was no use retreating or separating now - not after so much raw, scalding truth had been unleashed between you.

"You can keep deluding yourself with those tired old self-deceptions, wife," he growled, mouth practically grazing your own. "Or you can finally release that bitter, ugly pride for just this once and admit that you feel the same sick, gnawing hunger to finally unmake every single lie between us. The choice is yours..."

The gauntlet he laid at your feet seemed to ring with all the momentous impact of shattering glass against frozen steel. You stood there, breath mingling with Byakuya's in that razor-thin span of space as the last tortured seconds separating your joint fates stretched out precipitously.

He could practically taste the vortex of indecision and teetering control swirling between your dueling spirits in that viscous, electrically charged pause. As if the entire cosmos itself held its infinite breath awaiting your answer, silently screaming for you to grab the final threads of this elaborate fictional web binding you both in misery...and simply burn it all to exquisitely smoldering purification once and for all.

The silence stretched out between you, laden with decades of repressed tension and unvoiced yearnings. Byakuya watched you intently, silver eyes blazing with challenge as he awaited your response.

Finally, you inhaled a shuddering breath, squaring your shoulders as if bracing yourself.

"You want the truth?" you asked, voice low and raspy with pent-up emotion. "Fine. The truth is, I've been holding myself back from you for years, Byakuya. Holding back every urge, every desire, because I was too much of a coward to face what was happening between us."

Byakuya felt his breath catch at your frank admission, but remained silent, letting you continue uninterrupted.

"Do you know what it's been like?" you pressed on, taking a step closer until you were nearly chest-to-chest. "Waking up beside you every morning, body aching to be touched...to be held by you? Having to leave the bed and pretend like I didn't notice your...problem...when all I really wanted was for you to take me right then and there?"

Your eyes shone with a mixture of bitterness and naked longing. "I've thought about it. Dreamed about you kissing me, really kissing me. About us taking baths together and washing each other's bodies. Falling asleep tangled up, skin on skin, after making love all night long..."

You exhaled a shaky breath, reaching up to trace the sharp line of Byakuya's jaw. "But I could never let myself give in. Not when I knew you were still holding on to memories of Hisana. I didn't want to ruin that for you with my selfish desires."

The anguish in your words was unmistakable. Byakuya felt his throat constrict at the realization that some part of you had harbored insecurities about his feelings all this time. Before he could voice a response, you barreled onwards.

"I kept telling myself that whatever you were feeling for me, it was just physical," you said bitterly. "Lust born from decades of sexual frustration, nothing more. That if I gave in, let myself fall into bed with you, it would just ruin everything between us eventually."

You shook your head, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But God, Byakuya...I'm so tired of fighting this constant war inside me. Tired of denying how badly I want you, crave your touch, your kisses, your—"

Byakuya surged forward without warning, capturing your mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss that obliterated whatever confession was about to tumble from your lips. You made a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth before melting into the embrace with a desperate whimper.

His arms came around you, crushing your body flush against his as he kissed you with every ounce of the repressed passion that had been steadily unraveling him for decades. This was no chaste brushing of lips - this was a man staking an undeniable claim on the one person his entire universe revolved around.

When you finally parted, gasping for air, Byakuya leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes bored into you with an intensity that made you shiver.

"Listen to me," he rasped, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks. "Whatever lingering ghosts you think still bind me to my past with Hisana...let them go, my love. You are my present, my future, the only person I've truly allowed to take up permanent residence in my heart and soul."

His words seemed to steal whatever breath you'd regained. You stared up at him with naked vulnerability shining in your eyes as he continued.

"I love you," Byakuya stated simply. "Every part of you - your strength, your pride, your beauty, and yes...even your maddening stubbornness. I have loved you for longer than I can remember, and I will continue loving you until the stars burn out in the endless sky."

A solitary tear traced down your cheek as you tried to process his declaration. Byakuya caught it with the pad of his thumb, lips quirking into the barest hint of a smile.

"So please," he murmured, dipping his head to trail kisses along the curve of your jaw. "No more pushing me away out of some misguided sense of honor or duty, beloved. Let me worship you the way my soul has longed to for eternity. Let me love you the way you deserve..."

The rest of his words faded into a heated brush of mouths and shared breaths as you surged up to recapture his lips in a desperate, needy kiss. Byakuya groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth as he walked you backwards until your back hit the nearest wall with a gentle thud.

His hands roamed over every inch of you hungrily, bunching the fabric of your clothing as he sought to eliminate any remaining barriers between your heated bodies. You gasped into the searing kiss when his palm found the soft swell of your breast, kneading and tweaking the hardened peak until you arched shamelessly into his touch.

"Fuck, [Y/N]..." Byakuya panted against the scorching skin of your neck as his mouth blazed a path of open-mouthed kisses downward. "You have no idea how many times I've imagined this, dreamed of having you like this."

His teeth scraped along your racing pulse before soothing the sting with an ardent sweep of his tongue. You fisted your hands in his hair, tugging sharply in a silent plea for more as you rolled your hips against the insistent ridge of his cock.

"Tell me," you rasped, voice already wrecked with need. "Tell me what dark, filthy fantasies you've been entertaining about me all these years, Byakuya."

His answering growl vibrated against the swell of your breast as his mouth found the exposed flesh there, lips and tongue lavishing devout attention until you were keening softly. One broad hand slid possessively down your body to hitch your thigh over his hip, grinding his clothed erection against your core.

"I've thought about bending you over every available surface and fucking you until you couldn't walk straight," he rasped, punctuating each crude word with a sharp roll of his hips that had you both panting harshly. "About spreading those gorgeous thighs and feasting on your cunt until you're a sobbing, incoherent mess beneath my tongue..."

You whimpered at the lewd confessions, nails scoring down Byakuya's back as the delicious friction against your rapidly dampening sex left you nearly delirious. He captured your mouth again in a punishing kiss, all heat and slick desperation as you ground together frantically.

"But most of all," he growled when you finally parted for air. Stormy silver eyes bored into yours, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper...something primal and proprietary you'd never seen in their depths before. "I've burned for the chance to make you truly mine in every sense. To bury myself so deep inside this perfect little cunt and pump you full of my seed over and over until you're round with my child."

The guttural cadence of his words punched the air from your lungs in a harsh gasp. Byakuya took full advantage, mouth and hands growing rougher, more demanding as he scented the first hints of your arousal sharpening in the charged air between you.

"That's what you want too, isn't it?" he husked against the swollen curve of your lips, tongue flicking out to taste the desperate whimpers spilling past them. "You want me to breed you properly, the way a husband should stake his claim on his wife...don't you, my beloved?"

The only response you could formulate was a strangled keen of sheer ecstasy as Byakuya seized your other thigh, bodily lifting you until your legs were wrapped around his narrow hips. He rolled his pelvis against your molten core again, savoring the way your head tipped back shamelessly at the promise of that delicious friction.

"Yes..." you finally rasped, arms looping around his neck as your lust-glazed eyes met his burning stare pleadingly. "God, yes, Byakuya! Take me, breed me, do whatever you want. I'm fucking yours, always have been..."

His lips crashed back onto yours in a searing, utterly possessive kiss that seared you all the way down to your bones. Byakuya's hands cupped your ass firmly, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh there while he walked the two of you further into the room, intent on laying claim to his wife at long last.

You barely registered the moment the backs of your thighs hit the edge of the desk until you were sprawled back onto the polished wood, legs splayed wantonly and chest heaving with rapid breaths. Byakuya stood there for a few moments, drinking in the sight of you spread out like a decadent feast before his ravenous gaze.

"My beautiful, infuriating wife," he growled, palming his aching cock through the strained fabric of his pants. "What have you done to me..."

You moaned, squirming impatiently as you watched him strip the rest of his clothes off in quick, efficient motions. Every inch of his pale, lithely muscular body was pure perfection - from the elegant sweep of his neck and chiseled planes of his chest, down to the proud jut of his erection, thick and leaking against his lower belly.

Your core clenched involuntarily at the thought of having all that glorious manhood buried inside you to the hilt. You couldn't recall ever feeling this needy and desperate for another person in your entire existence, let alone centuries worth of memories.

"Byakuya..." you panted, reaching out a hand to beckon him closer. "Come here. Please, I need—"

The rest of your sentence dissolved into a high pitched squeal as your husband all but lunged forward, hauling you back up against him by the waist. His mouth claimed yours in a bruising, hungry kiss while his fingers worked furiously at the fastenings of your clothing, clearly beyond the point of patience and finesse.

You tugged off the loose silk robe and top, leaving you clad in nothing but your undergarments. Byakuya's palms ran over the newly exposed skin reverently, lips trailing hot, wet kisses across the tops of your breasts before tugging the straps down to expose them fully.

He thumbed one pert, aching nipple, rolling and pinching the hardened bud until you were writhing helplessly against his chest. You cried out at the first wet, scorching suckle, spine bowing with pleasure as he worshipped your sensitive breasts with a thoroughness that bordered on obscene.

"Mmmm, I wanted to do so much more to you this morning," he husked, laving his tongue across the pebbled nub before giving it a firm, sharp suck that had you keening. "Wanted to see how long it would take me to make you cum, just from worshipping these gorgeous tits..."

Your breath hitched audibly at the erotic admission. The mental image of waking up to this version of Byakuya, all sleepy-eyed and ravenous, laving his wicked mouth and clever fingers all over your breasts was so intoxicating, you couldn't stop the broken whimper from slipping past your lips.

Byakuya smirked against your skin, seeming to sense the effect his words were having on you. "I know," he crooned, fingers pinching and pulling at the other nipple. "I've spent a good portion of our marriage imagining how many times I could get you to cum on my tongue alone before begging me for my cock."

You whimpered at the vulgar picture those words painted, hips arching off the desk in a silent plea for relief. Byakuya's palms glided down the slope of your abdomen, thumbs stroking the tender skin of your inner thighs.

"You can’t blame me," he continued, mouth descending lower, leaving a hot, wet trail of open-mouthed kisses and teasing nips across the sensitive flesh. "You never even gave me a chance to see what this tight little hole looks like stretched around my cock. To taste your honey as you gush for me over and over..."

The last of his words dissolved into a filthy groan as his teeth latched around the lacy band of your panties, tugging them down and off in one swift motion. You could barely contain the breathless cry of shock as Byakuya's lips and tongue immediately found the slick juncture between your thighs.

He lapped at you hungrily, broad hands holding your hips pinned against the desk as he ate your cunt like a man starved. You cried out, fisting a hand in his hair while the other grasped desperately at the edge of the desk for purchase.

Byakuya groaned low in his throat as the musky, earthy taste of you flooded his mouth. He could have spent hours between your thighs, just drinking in the honeyed sweetness of your desire and reveling in the desperate little whimpers you made each time he dragged his tongue across your throbbing clit.

He settled into a relentless rhythm, alternating between firm, flat-tongued licks and sucking your swollen bud until you were a writhing, babbling mess atop the desk. When he finally slipped two long, slender fingers into your dripping core, you nearly sobbed at the delicious fullness.

"I don’t think I can wait any longer," Byakuya growled, curling the digits inside you just so until you were practically drooling with pleasure. "Not when you're this hot, and wet, and eager for me. Not after you kept me waiting so long..."

His thumb circled the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your slit, watching the way your eyes fluttered and your thighs trembled with the telltale signs of a rapidly approaching climax. "Do you think you're ready for me, sweet wife?"

You managed a weak nod, still reeling from the mind-melting pleasure his fingers and mouth were wreaking on your body. Byakuya leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he withdrew his digits and guided his straining cock towards your entrance.

A ragged moan slipped past his lips as the swollen, leaking head brushed the soaked, molten heat of your core. It took every ounce of his iron will to keep from slamming home with a single brutal thrust. Instead, he teased your entrance with shallow, gentle strokes, watching the way his length glistened each time it emerged coated with your essence.

"Byakuya, please!" you begged, nails scoring down his back. "Fuck me already, I'm dying—"

He silenced the rest of your desperate pleading with a savage, searing kiss, hips jerking forward just enough for the swollen tip to slip past the fluttering rim of your cunt. Byakuya savored the way you moaned brokenly into his mouth at the sensation, the way your body instinctively arched up to seek out more.

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours and meeting your heated, half-lidded gaze with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through to your soul. "I want you to look at me," he murmured, the words little more than a growl as he began to slowly, inexorably sink into the tight, slick heaven of your body. "Look at me as I take you for the first time, make you mine in the most primal, sacred way possible. Don't look away..."

The command was issued as much to himself as to you. He couldn't recall ever seeing anything more exquisite than the sight of you taking him inch by agonizing inch - flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, eyes blazing with need and desire and an emotion far more profound than he could possibly name.

"I love you," you choked out, tears streaking down your cheeks at the sheer rightness of being connected to him this way. "Oh God, Byakuya...I love you so much!"

His heart stuttered at the declaration, and it took every last vestige of his fraying control not to slam home with a single, savage thrust. Byakuya paused halfway, giving your body a chance to adjust to his considerable size as he brushed a lock of hair away from your tear-stained face.

"I love you too, my darling," he husked, kissing you with aching gentleness. "More than I could ever find the words to say."

With that, he surged forward, sheathing himself completely within the scorching, slick confines of your cunt until you were both gasping for air. You clutched at him, arms and legs locking around his torso as if desperate to hold him in place, to keep him buried inside the molten depths of your core forever.

"B-Byakuya," you stuttered, the syllables dissolving into a high, needy whine as he began to withdraw slowly. The drag of his thick, hard length against your inner walls was enough to make your eyes roll back with ecstasy.

When only the flared crown remained buried within you, Byakuya snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt once again. He set a punishing pace, fucking you hard and fast against the polished wood, until the only sounds filling the air were the slap of sweat-slick skin and your combined moans and cries of pleasure.

"God, you feel amazing," he rasped against your mouth, hands cupping the supple curve of your ass, tilting your hips at just the right angle for him to hammer against that perfect, spongy spot deep within. "Like you were made just for me."

You whimpered, unable to form coherent words as you met each thrust eagerly, rolling your pelvis and matching him stroke for stroke. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, coiling tighter and tighter as the friction and pressure of his thick, unyielding cock began to unravel you.

Byakuya felt the familiar, molten tension coiling in his lower belly as well, his orgasm racing towards the breaking point despite his best efforts. He didn't want this to end, didn't want to leave the paradise of your tight, welcoming cunt even for a moment, but he knew there was no way he could hold out much longer.

He reached down, finding the swollen bundle of nerves above where your bodies were joined and circling it with his thumb. "Cum for me, my beloved," he growled, angling his thrusts until he was hitting that spot inside you over and over. "Show me how beautiful you look when you fall apart for me."

Your body obeyed his command immediately, back arching and head tossing wildly as your core clenched around his throbbing length. A scream ripped free from your lungs as the dam broke, and the pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, stealing the very breath from your lungs.

Byakuya cursed hoarsely at the exquisite feeling of your slick, molten cunt fluttering and pulsing around him, nearly bringing him over the edge himself. He rode out the waves of your release, groaning when the hot, sticky flood of your honey began dripping down his balls.

It took all the willpower he could muster to resist the urge to spill his seed right then and there. With a ragged breath, Byakuya slowed his movements, gently rolling his hips as your shudders subsided. He peppered the soft skin of your neck and collarbone with light, worshipful kisses, murmuring his adoration as you slowly came back to reality.

"My beloved wife," he crooned, the possessive timbre of his voice making you shiver. "I've dreamed about the sight of you cumming around my cock, but the reality was a thousand times better than anything my mind could ever conjure up."

Your face flushed at the erotic confession, eyes fluttering shut when he pressed a gentle kiss against the corner of your mouth. You could still feel the thick length of his erection pulsing inside you, the subtle twitches and jerks telling you just how badly he needed release.

"Please, I need more," you whimpered, clenching around him. "I want you to fill me up, make me yours..."

The words were like a shot of pure lust straight to Byakuya's brain. His control snapped, and suddenly you were on your back, legs splayed wantonly over the edge of the desk. Your husband braced his palms against the wood, fingers tangling with yours as he loomed over you.

"Look at me," he demanded, hissing as the new angle allowed him to go even deeper. "Keep looking at me, no matter what."

You barely had a chance to process the command before Byakuya began to move again. This time, there was nothing slow or gentle about the way he drove into you. It was fast, and deep, and rough - his thick cock pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt with the singular purpose of breeding you, making you his and his alone.

Each powerful stroke hit that spot inside you perfectly, the head of his cock dragging across the sensitive bundle of nerves with a force that had you nearly sobbing with ecstasy. You struggled to keep your eyes open, watching the way his muscles rippled and flexed with each thrust, the way his eyes burned with a possessive, primal light as he claimed you in the most basic, visceral way imaginable.

Byakuya was utterly lost, drunk on the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down around him and the knowledge that he was the first and only man to have you like this. That you had waited all these years, just as he had, for this moment. He could feel his orgasm threatening to shatter him at any moment, the molten heat pooling in his abdomen, but there was no way he was going to let go before bringing you over the edge again.

He slipped a hand between your writhing bodies, pinching and rubbing the swollen, hypersensitive bundle of nerves. Your cry was near-hysterical, nails scoring down his back and legs trembling as he pushed you ever closer to the edge.

"Byakuya! I—I'm going to—"

Your breathless warning was cut off by his mouth, devouring the keening wail of your release as the tension in your belly snapped and the waves of pleasure crashed over you again. The feeling of your slick cunt fluttering and convulsing around him was enough to shatter what was left of Byakuya's fraying control.

He buried himself as deep as possible, the head of his cock grinding against the deepest, most intimate parts of your body as his climax tore through him. He groaned brokenly against your mouth, hips jerking reflexively with each spurt of cum, painting your womb with his seed.

The two of you remained locked together, sharing shuddering, gasping breaths as the aftershocks rippled through you. Byakuya nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating, uniquely you scent while he tried to convince his body to move.

"Don't," you whispered, arms tightening around his waist as if sensing his intent. "Just stay like this, please."

He chuckled, pressing a tender kiss against your throat. "Believe me, I would love nothing more, my sweet. But I‘d rather we continue this in the comfort of our bed, preferably before any of the servants return and catch us in such a compromising position."

Your face flamed at the reminder that your husband had, in fact, fucked you within an inch of your life atop his desk, with the door wide open. "Good point," you mumbled sheepishly.

Byakuya finally pulled out, both of you groaning at the sudden sense of emptiness. He scooped you into his arms, pressing another kiss against your temple. "Besides, we're not even close to finished yet, my love. I have centuries worth of fantasies to make a reality, and a whole lifetime to breed you properly. We're just getting started..."

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