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luvymuses · 2 months

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·̩͙ ݁ ˖ ⠀ dance for me, jiejie ⠀ ♡

marius von hagen x fem!reader

rated e, 15.8k words - crossposted on a03 as well my loves!

synopsis: marius’ possessive tendencies have always glimmered in a seductive aura, leaving you in a searing daze every time. however, you’ve never really encountered him spiraling out of control before, consumed by utter jealousy… until a conceited heir catches you both indulging in public sex and proposes a threesome. your seething and livid fiance ends up binding him to a new task: counting how many times marius makes you cum.

tags: voyeurism. exhibitionism. dirty talk. dry humping. lap dance. strip tease. vaginal fingering. blow job. deepthroating. pussy eating. cock riding. marking. spooning. ass & pussy spanking. temperature play. ice play. breeding kink. praise. degradation. marathon sex. hot tub sex. balcony sex. chair sex. public sex. possessive sex. loud sex. rough sex. vaginal sex. possessive behavior. jealousy. porn with plot. sexual tension. shameless smut. marius orders the other guy to wear a cock ring. possessive, jealous marius fucking you round after round until you’re a cum filled mess.

only the moon witnessed marius’ bold, amorous advances of passion. he clings to you at a close proximity, his amethyst eyes lidding with lust. here on this uppermost deck, away from their prying gazes, other patrons are oblivious to the concealed ways he envelops you in his scorching love— vibrant blue flames searing heat onto your soft skin— and as always, you bask in this endless summer alongside him, content with being burned and electrified under waves of debauched ecstasy.

his hot, fervent kisses reveal his impatience and desperation to fill your cunt over and over in the open— his greedy lips which devour your own like saccharine drops of honey, capturing every shaky breath of yours until he finally gasps out for air— reduced to nothing but a drunken, needy mess solely for you. his pursuit resumes when his tongue trails down to leave wet sensations, nipping along your bared neck to litter splotches which flush almost instantly.

“ah, marius… feels so good...” you whimper to him while he marks your flesh. tilting your head backwards, you offer him further access to the delicate expanse of your neck. desiring to be painted, embellished with love bites professing his ardor lust.

you didn’t care if the entire world notices the florid marks he scatters across your skin, free for their leisurely viewing. wearing marius’ hickeys is like soaking in a pool of rich, priceless wine, as if you’d won the grandest collection of champion rings.

“yes…” his teeth glide over to the other side now, covering the area with such roseate patches. despite the sensitive stings, his teasing bites elicit satisfied sighs from your lips, tingles of pain slowly morphing into pleasure as you’re pleading with marius. “more… just like that, babe…” you weave your fingers through his midnight blue hair and gift gentle tugs to his scalp, signaling your utmost satisfaction.

this entices him to lick along your blooming splodges, intending to leave you breathless. “jiejie…” once he starts sucking more vigorously, you’re coaxed enough to unrelentingly pull his smooth and silky ends. he grunts out, aroused by your rough treatment.

“mmm... you can do better than that...” he gravitates to his masochistic inclinations as usual, teases you at your futile attempts. “come on, harder this time...”

his seductive groans draw out a fierce, titillating need in your pussy, an irrepressible thirst to be impaled by his cock. just thinking about his dick has your cunt throbbing— to have him buried within your deepest depths, brushing against your sweetest spot. his hips deliciously melding into yours, coating your gummy walls a milky white until your thoughts are consumed by him alone.

“shit…” you can’t help but clench both of your thighs together, falling deeper into the horny abyss you’ve dragged yourself into.

oh— this is all too tempting— especially when he’s still looming over you like this, his towering height which enhances his devilish charm. he’s alluringly seductive with the way his swim trunks hang dangerously low and fucking hell, he knows this. his slim, slutty waist accentuating his sculpted body all too well, following his delectable abs which are damp with sweat from the tropical humidity.

“like what you see? my body and dick’s all yours…” yes— you’re convinced that no other man’s existence can surpass his, ever. and fuck, it’s all marius’ fault for entrancing you with his sexy looks.

“turning me on like this, huh?” you accuse him of igniting your blazing, spiraling desire, “because you know i love all your dirty talk...”

he smirks when the beating pulse of your neck quickens, as if he senses your last remnants of rationality waning. no one would suspect the marius von hagen, current ceo of pax indulging in such risqué, obscene sex with his fiancee on the vast, open expanse of this cruise ship... right?

besides, you’re on the literal verge of losing your sanity. he just has to entice you a little further with a final, stifling blow.

suddenly, his sultry murmur shifts into your ear, so alluringly low and husky. “you know… you’d look so pretty dripping with my cum, here and now. leaking everywhere you look…” he seduces you with pure filth, shamelessly rock hard at his indecent thoughts of fucking you senseless in public. his thick cock is practically straining his swim trunks at this point. “on your tits, in your mouth, on your back and ass… in your pussy…”

“fuck…” he’s not playing fair at all! mentioning his cum like this— coating your entire body all over. you’re trying to maintain your last, remaining amounts of decency with all your might. but alas, his tantalizing words echo more and more, shattering the entirety of your resolve.

because in the end, your greatest weakness of all is marius von hagen himself and you’ll always succumb to his temptation, no matter the circumstances.

there’s no point denying how attached you are to his delectable body anyways. tonight, you’d be his little cumslut as always, ready to mewl out his name in desperation for the whole world to hear; unleashing your inner nympho as your high libido matches your fiance’s, with you both turning into such sex-driven, panting messes on the daily. his dick’s just far too mind-blowing for your lasciviously, lustful brain to resist.

you need marius now, just as he craves you. and you absolutely cannot handle his teasing any longer— so, it’s time for you to assert dominance and wipe that damn smirk off his handsome face— even if it’s just for a moment. exuding waves of confidence while setting him off course, reversing this thrilling game in your favor.

“stuff me with your cock then, babe.” mustering all of your collected strength, your smaller palms shove against his broad chest with such relentless force. even you’re shocked when he’s staggering, swaying from side to side. well, just a little bit. he deserved it, after all.

you watch him stumble over his cloddish feet, finally tumbling down into the awaiting hot tub below as he’s groaning in the aftermath of his actions.

marius knew he’d eventually seduce you to the point of no return, but he didn’t take into consideration nor acknowledge the possibility of you undermining him by making the first move. serves him right for being so damn cocky.

“ah–” he seems astounded when you saunter into the aquamarine abyss with a smirk, warm bubbles which froth around all over until you’re hovering above him. how cute, he’s totally flustered and you can’t help but bask at the pleasant sight. feeling oh so greedy now, you want to elicit more reactions out of him. his amethyst eyes dilate as he observes your manicured hand reaching over to slowly slither down his throat, inching closer to his embellished necklaces. “you…”

his lavish chains feel cool like cascading waterfalls, adorned with a silver pendant and his infamous z emblem— you wonder how durable they are, if they’ll remain intact under prolonged force— if those chains could be utilized as the prettiest leashes ever, aiding in his submission to you.

yet, you notice he’s fully immersed in a daydream of sorts while his tongue’s swiping against his lips. his ears bloom in a cerise flush, radiating down to his rosy cheeks as well. oh? he’s clearly being distracted from his surroundings and you have an inkling that you’re the main cause of his dirty fantasies. such a horny bastard of a man you have indeed. you tut out to him while your fingers hook onto his necklaces, so utterly perfect in your grasp.

with all your might, you’re gripping his chains in your direction, yanking them abruptly forward to regain his attention. he hisses in response, groaning out into the nocturnal night. “now that was a fucking good pull…” he states, recovering momentum with a smug curve of his lips. “rough and hard, just how i like it…”

“eyes up here, yeah? you were staring at my hand for a while.” you command, quirking an eyebrow his way. you’re eager to interrogate him, intending to figure out what exactly he was daydreaming about. so, you’re insistently tossing notions left and right, feeling your cunt clench tightly with every word you’re uttering out to him.

“did you imagine me on my knees? tits and ass on display, giving you a blowjob? of fucking your load down my throat?”

marius peers up at you, the voids of his mouth salivating as he loves every taunting inquiry of yours. fuck— he believes you’re so damn hot when you’re countering him with your own dirty talk. he leans forward and presses you on to continue.

“or was my hand reaching to grab your cock? watching me slide your dick back into my pussy, with every thrust pushing us over the edge for hours?”

“oh? you’re such a naughty girl, jiejie… who’s to say that those aren’t our dirty fantasies, hm?” his soft chuckle emits a playful tone, vastly contrasting to the way he tilts his head as a mastermind would. he’s covertly calculating when his next, daring move should commence, of reclaiming his dominance over you. while he did love reveling in your blazing power, it’s time for him to regain control. “besides… as a von hagen, i’ve been taught to take initiative and lead circumstances i see fit.”

he pauses, slowly stalling to pique your interest further. and shit, it’s working. marius has you on the edge of your toes now, anticipating his remaining words. “so babe… i’ll fuck you round after round until your cunt memorizes the shape of my cock.”

you sense a shift in the nocturnal air, widening your eyes in realization that he’s really trying to defy you and sway the tides back in his favor.

the moment finally dawns on you further when he suddenly seizes your wrist with his larger hand before tugging you closer in his direction. with a yelp, you’re toppling down into the aquamarine abyss with a loud splash. luckily though, you crash against him, planted right directly on his muscular thighs. “marius…” your cheeks blossom wildly like vermillion fireworks in the twilight sky, blooming over in a rose blush.

both of you knew— your fiance has you right where you belong— between his legs.

he just adores these sultry moments when his beloved queen settles on his lap— gorgeously resting on your throne of desire while ivory light glistens and glows against your body, causing an epiphany to form in his mind that you rival luminosities of vast stars from above— surpassing their radiances tenfold.

“fuck, princess…” he’s captivated by the sensation of your plush thighs straddling him underwater, feeling so utterly aroused and his thick cock begins to leak with precum. just like now, you hypnotize him immensely with your beauty every time, both inside and out, resulting in his dick going delirious for so much more. more of you, more of your creamy little cunt, more of your absolute everything.

“you’re driving me insane.” his heated gaze stares at your sexy, sensuous curves being accentuated by your sumptuous swimsuit, moving further upwards to fixate on your breasts. he watches the swells of your tits heave up and down, truly mesmerized by how the violet top of your bikini beautifully cups them. he swears you’re a goddess in disguise who’s far too ethereal, the embodiment of oozing sex appeal.

“being pressed against my cock like this...” and he’d cum on the spot as a gift, just for you— especially when you’re feigning innocence to his obvious staring by slowly shifting against the outline of his erection. he’s delectably hard and pulsing under your clothed cunt, just as you recall from this morning. “what do you mean, babe? i’m merely trying to get comfortable…” you murmur to him seductively before sitting down further onto the spot you’re occupying on his lap.

oh fuck— the sensation of his dick, despite the thin, obstructing layer of polyester, sliding between your folds was truly dizzying. desperation fills your lungs completely as you’re soon overflowing with wanton need, wanting more delicious friction than before. so, you’re coaxed enough to alleviate the searing desire lingering within you. “but then again, grinding on you sounds so much better…”

an airy moan escapes from your lips when you’re finally rocking your clothed pussy against his hard-on. your hips tantalizingly roll along the silky skin of his stomach, brushing against his abs over and over. “i love this… love you, love your cock…” you’re only vaguely aware of your body moving at this point, as if your control is waning tremendously— of your slick smearing, seeping through the soaked fabric felt along marius’ erection.

“shit, jiejie…” seems like your arousal is practically drenching your ruined swimsuit bottoms. more like allowing your fiance’s sanity to slip further away.

goosebumps erupt down marius’ back as his breath hitches— his mind set ablaze when he feels your cunt teetering above him, of your erratic pace in numerous attempts to relieve the heat coiling in your belly. every receding glide of yours, only to feel you continuously shifting forward again has him moaning. “you’re so cute, being needy like this…” you squirm further into his lap in response.

his wandering hands traverse lower and lower until they reach your soft ass and he firmly squeezes, kneading your flesh with vigorous intent. “i wonder what will make you cum in my lap first…” he guides you along his cock, trying to aid you with stabilizing your quivering thighs. but alas, the smoldering, coquettish touch of his larger hands has you feeling weak. “if i thrust against you here…”

he lifts his hips upwards, angling with precision to finally brush along your clothed pussy. within seconds, you’re gasping out as he sets a relentless rhythm, bucking effortlessly to join you in this state of ecstasy. “a-ah… mmm yes!” you entwine your lips together in an amorous kiss, moaning into the warm depths of his mouth while you both continue to grind against one another.

you’re both trapped in an inescapable, intoxicating daze which enthralls your senses, lingering as a provocative spell you’re all too familiar with. coils of intense pleasure leaving you so immensely hooked, addicted for more.

“right there, marius…” you’re matching his enticing rhythm now, dragging your drenched pussy along his erection harder and harder than before. you feel your essence overflowing like mile long rivers, clenching at the overwhelming sensation. “or maybe with my tip?” his clothed cock grazes back and forth, nudging repeatedly against your clit. you practically pull away from another searing kiss to squeal out loudly.

“fuck yes! hump me with your tip...” every tantalizing roll of his hips sends rushes of spiraling lust down your spine, as you’re now chasing the delicious friction for release. his tip’s just too pleasurable beyond words, applying enough pressure to your bundle of nerves. “i’m close… please…” you’re beckoning him to coax your first orgasm of the night out of your soaking cunt, wanting to desperately cum already.

almost there— your eyelashes flutter, relishing in the way marius is rutting into you like this until his lips curl— his hips draw to a halt as he lifts your smaller frame off his lap. you blink in disbelief when he delicately sets you down to recover in a brief respite, situated right above the hot tub wall.

marius fucking von hagen… you’re so close to kicking him in his balls for denying you like that.

“why didn’t you let me cum?” you whine with an irksome tone in your voice while narrowing your eyebrows. but not for long— you’re breathless as he kneels into the aquamarine abyss again, crawling seductively closer towards you. he slots his body between your plush thighs in order for you to leisurely fall backward on your wrists— as if you’re his one and only goddess and his sole, devoted mission is to service you.

“hmm… i wonder.” he pauses for a second, about to unveil the next phase of his plan before a sharp ping from his phone emits into the air.

what? how strange… he usually leers in annoyance whenever someone disrupts his sensual moments with you. yet, he leans over to grab his device without an ounce of wrath forming on his countenance. it’s as if a tranquil calm before a raging storm was brewing.

he responds with a swift text to the other individual on the line, soon disregarding his phone with a light toss afterwards.

“sorry for the delay– that was vincent alerting me of pax affairs.” you don’t dwell on the matter any longer, not when he lays his cozy cheek on one of your silky, luminesced thighs. your heart pounds faster when his amethyst irises peer up at you salaciously, embedded with waves of mischief. he ensures you’re watching him as his lustful gaze slowly travels to your clothed cunt, appearing at such a close proximity before him.

too close in fact— he’s licking his lips with a smirk, trailing a hand along the vast expanse of your inner thigh. his fingers touch dangerously upwards until he feels the soaked fabric of your swimsuit bottoms. “as i thought… your pretty little pussy’s drenched.” he plays with the hem nestled along your hips and teasingly pulls, causing the band to snap against the soft skin of your belly. he moves to coquettishly pull at the other corner, observing how you shiver in response to the lingering stings.

you feel a knot forming in your throat and whimper out to him. “of course… you made me wet, especially with your tip...”

“yes, so wet for me… it makes me want to fill up this hot tub with our cum.” marius slips his hand past the fabric and adeptly sinks his fingers into your awaiting pussy, watching as your mouth widens with a loud, wanton moan— digging your manicured nails into the hot tub sides with such an iron grip— oh, how he adores you, absolutely enamored with his muse, infatuated by your very existence in this world.

especially when you’re a heaving, babbling mess— such a whiny cumslut in heat, solely for him alone.

“is it that good, princess? your toes are practically curling...” he coos out, pumping his fingers inside you with such intricate curls. he angles his dexterous digits upwards, knowing which sweet spots will have your cunt convulsing. and oh, he acknowledges how much you’re basking in utter ecstasy when he feels you clenching— oh so tightly around his fingers. “so good! so… full of you…” you tilt back with your head lolling, far too fixated on the pleasure your fiance is gifting you.

he groans when hearing your desperate whines as they amplify his arousal tenfold. and shit, his erection throbs between his thighs while he’s hopelessly chasing for any sort of friction by rutting against a water jet of the hot tub. “fuck… your pussy fits so perfectly around my fingers… made just for me.”

he grinds his thick cock against the potent water pressures with loud, needy moans, simultaneously fingering your cunt with his every thrust.

“a-ah… mmm… so thick inside me…” you’re writhing back and forth with trembling legs, relishing in the way his digits disappear to plunge inside. he deliciously caresses your warm, velvety walls in a continuous flow, halting his pumping to slam his fingers back in harder. it’s as if his cock was fucking your cunt right now. “so big…” he strokes along your folds which are so slick and sticky, trailing up to leisurely thumb at your puffy, flushed clit.

“nghh, babe!” your back arches as marius suddenly smacks your pearly little nub, overwrought with waves of pleasure as you’re shivering all over. you can’t help that your body jerked due to your shock, especially when he stunned you like this. he tuts out to you in a teasing manner and smirks, feeling contempt with his payback from earlier. “wrong! my cock’s ten times thicker than my mere fingers...” he chuckles lowly, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss on the side of your inner thigh.

“and you’ll be squirming on my dick far greater than this…” his fingers are now glazed with your essence, covered and dripping like saccharine ice cream on a warm summer day. he utilizes this grand opportunity in his favor, pushing his digits back in deeper with newfound fervor. he scissors your insides past your limits, stretching the walls of your tiny cunt further apart. he’s spreading your pussy more and more, pumping inwards and outwards again and again until he feels you clenching tightly around him, making your vision go hazy. “fuck! too fast…”

“you’re doing so well… cum for me, my queen.” his praise is enough to elicit a trembling orgasm deep within your creamy cunt as you’re yelping, “marius! shit, marius…” hearing you whine out his name has him finally spilling cum into his trunks when he ruts into the water jet with all his might. you both just evoke such amorous lust out of one another, as if bubbling sips of champagne could never surpass your shared peaks of drunken pleasure.

you soon coat the entirety of his hand with your delectable essence, watching as your arousal slowly drips, trickling down his veiny wrist.

he pulls his fingers out of your weeping pussy to taste your cum, maintaining steady eye contact as he swirls his scorching tongue around to capture the remnants of your essence. you swear he’s so brazen-faced, but yet again, in an endearing type of way. your cheeks redden like glistening rubies when he finally swipes his thumb across his lips, sending a flirtatious wink in your direction.

“mmm… you taste delicious as i remember. and that was directly from this morning, jiejie.” you’re about to swat at his chest until you notice his irises darken, embedded with genuine wrath as he glares off into the distance.

“hah– how long do you intend on jerking off in secret, huh? normally i’m the only one who gets to jack off to my girl.”

fuck— you realize someone actually tried intruding, trespassing on your acts of debauched sex with marius— having intentions to eavesdrop on you both the closer they approached. in terms of decent circumstances, you should feel absolutely repulsed by this matter. yet… what transpires is the complete opposite… why does being watched by some other guy when you’re being manhandled by marius turn you on?

who’s this mysterious man anyway? does he possess a reputable status of sorts, perhaps being another scion himself? and how does he have the guts and literal balls to go against the marius von hagen?

you’re ripped away from your thoughts when you hear a treading sound of steps ambling closer, nearing the hot tub until the man enters your peripheral vision. he’s a few inches shorter than marius in height, sporting blonde hair and a conceited glimmer in his eyes.

now that you’ve scrutinized him properly, isn’t he the heir to the family who owns these global cruise lines, known for their luxury services? you only recall this intel due to viewing his family’s corporation being showcased on news broadcasts just this week. what were the odds that you’d actually encounter him in person.

he apparently was soaking in the golden hour sunset from afar on this uppermost deck before he dozed off. he eventually awoke to you and marius commencing your secret lovegame, instantly becoming aroused at the scandalously, lustful sights before him. he tried to approach closer without being spotted, but it seemed marius was aware of his presence all along.

“geez– calm your tits, von hagen. can you blame me for admiring this beaut?” this man’s so shameless with his pursuit of hitting on you. he’s leering at your curves in a lascivious manner when your fiance is right there. yet he continues paying no heed to him at all, asking such a bold inquiry which has marius seething. “hey gorgeous, interested in a threesome?”

damn— he’s too bold. what an audacious risk he’s taking indeed— playing with scorching flames which lick along his skin.

you’re widening your eyes in a flabbergasted state of shock, immediately declining his offer with urgency. “no… i’m happily engaged to marius.” you remark to him, shaking your head to prove your disapproval. while having an audience as your fiance fucks you does seem arousing, the one and only man who’s allowed to touch you sensually in your heart is your beloved marius.

but it appears this scion is oblivious to your answer. he’s just too persistent for his own good. “what’s so great about von hagen? if you give me a chance…” he even has the audacity to lean forward, intending to caress your cheek. oh, wrong move... the incident transpires in such a flash, yet the other heir doesn’t even reach you when an absolutely livid marius is obstructing his path. he seizes his wrists ruthlessly, pinning his hands from behind and twisting with such menacing force.

grunts fall from the man’s lips while he’s scuffling to flee from his grasp. yet alas, your fiance’s taut biceps flex to display his authoritative strength, holding him in place. contorting in agony, he blaringly yells at the top of his lungs.

“what the fuck, man?!”

“try putting your filthy hands on my fiancee… i dare you….”

marius retorts back to him lowly with a growl in his tone. oh fuck— there it is, his domineering voice that he utilizes when conversing at pax. viewing him all riled up because of you, his fiancee, has your pussy searing with immense desire again. can you blame yourself though? he’s literally so sexy when he’s irking in anger.

suddenly, the signature, soothing sound of vincent’s throat clearing snaps both men from their quarrel. seems like marius was telling the truth about those texts after all. or rather, he was referring to his affairs instead of pax’s. so, you realize vincent’s current visit must be related to their conversation from earlier.

“hey, you over there! tell him to–” the other heir’s attempt at requesting help falters immediately when vincent interrupts him and it’s quite hilarious in your opinion.

“master marius, the preparations you requested are ready.”

“perfect– bring it here.” he practically shoves the other man’s wrists away, resulting with his body tumbling towards the floor with a thud. not like anyone cared, anyway. vincent ambles over and discreetly gives the item to marius, who smugly gazes in approval. he pats him lightly on his back, signaling he’s able to retreat for the night.

“i appreciate your support as always, vincent.”

“of course, master marius.” he bows politely.

vincent turns on his heels to swiftly exit, meeting your glance as he curtly nods at you. he’s soon darting his eyes elsewhere again… with flushed cheeks? isn’t he the vincent kim who radiates composure in his wake? you’re perplexed by the peculiar sight indeed. what is marius’ scheme this time?

your fiance tosses the mysterious object as it slides across the deck floor, landing near the other heir’s vicinity. you notice from afar that it’s circular and vibrant in color. upon closer inspection, numerous pairs of eyes widen in realization…

a cock ring. what the actual fuck— is marius insane?!

“pax is the top investor of your family’s cruise lines. if they were to know you insulted me… well… i believe you know the consequences. so, i have a proposal to prevent that from occurring.” a shit-eating grin adorns his lips as an overbearing aura forms around him, enhancing his tall, looming stature tenfold. “you’re going to wear this cock ring and count how many times i make my fiancee cum.”

oh shit— his attention shifts to you for a moment as your cunt clenches, missing his long fingers already. you’re so elated knowing you’re about to bask in marathon sex with him. you feel like drooling just thinking about it. “marius… mmm…”

realizing the dire severity of marius’ words, the once complacent shimmer in the other man’s eyes dims, growing faint while he slowly gulps. it’s his signal of conforming to his defeat and abiding to the rules of this game. after all, there’s no other options in terms of escaping— he’s fucking screwed. “…fine.” he sighs, exhaling while he retrieves the cock ring with furrowed eyebrows.

“well? pull down your pants and put it on.” marius sneers back at him in utter amusement, raising his head to jut out his toned chin. it’s as if he’s a king who’s reigning victorious under his own terrain. “shit, i know! stop rushing me…” with gritted teeth, the other heir obeys his order despite the lingering reluctance which flows through his veins.

you watch as he’s removing his swim trunks to reveal his leaking cock, glancing downwards to observe the raging flush of his tip.

his dick’s surely going to swell further as time passes. he coats his fingers with his cum to smear along the edges of the band, utilizing his arousal as lubricant. once he concludes this process, he stretches the cock ring over his length with a hiss. “hah…” his digits slide the vibrant silicone down another inch, creating slight friction until it’s finally nestled against his flesh.

“listen carefully…” marius squats down in a hovering position, invading his personal space while fisting his unbuttoned lapel shirt. the lavish fabric immediately creases under his daunting touch. “you have one more opportunity to jack off, so i highly suggest you use it wisely— or rather, do it when you see my girl’s eyes rolling back from the pleasure of my cock. your choice though…” he’s jeering the first half of the terms to him in a mocking manner while tightening his iron grip.

“and miscounting terminates the deal, by the way. so… really concentrate on the sex and try not to lose your sanity.” marius pauses, sarcastically snickering as he continues taunting the other heir. his ominous gaze amplifies in intensity until he’s tilting his head to the side. “but then again… i’ll enjoy watching you break.” another shit-eating grin forms on his countenance and fuck— he’s literally seducing you with his bad boy persona.

you’re close, so close to just ripping off his trunks and sinking down on your knees to devour his cock right then and there. but patience is key. your curiosity of finding out what other schemes he has planned only piques your interest tenfold.

“is that understood?”

“yes… you bast– sir…”

he’s scoffing at his blundering slip up, releasing the assertive grip that he’s holding on his expensive shirt. nothing else matters now— solely his beautiful muse. and oh, how he desperately craves your honey laced lips at this exact moment. marius stands up on his feet again before rushing over to you with swift, hastened strides, enveloping you in his warm embrace.

“marius…” he lifts your delicate chin in his grasp as he practically plunges his searing tongue into your mouth, swirling his own against yours in a salacious dance. this feels so damn right, erotically kissing him like this when an audience is currently present. “fuck— i’ll never stop going feral over you, princess…” you’re soon wrapping both of your smaller arms around his neck to brush your noses together, far too immersed at the vast, soaring intensity of his utter passion— so tantalizing, so downright sinful, so possessive.

his teeth graze along your lips until he pulls away, pressing you against his broad chest as he caresses your waist. he traces such intricate, soothing circles along your soft skin and you swear you’re melting on the spot. deep down, you’re secretly hoping more of his possessive side is unveiled. and meanwhile, he ponders to himself for a moment before he’s smirking, calling out such a bold inquiry.

“you didn’t get a good view of her grinding on me, right?” he smugly asks, clearly obvious payback from earlier. he receives a rough grunt in response and darts his amethyst irises back onto you. there’s no point in him denying how much he wants you to strip tease; to seduce him with your alluring body, dry humping together in front of other men, so…

“dance for me, jiejie…” he murmurs deeply into your ear, “give your fiance a lap dance he’ll never forget, ever…”

shit— marius always renders you speechless, huh? and leaves your cunt gushing with more waves of arousal, apparently.

his warm breath lingers until he slips away to amble towards a lounge chair, settling down comfortably on the seat. he splays out his muscular thighs, teasing you with his clothed erection as he awaits your next move. “and you… crawl over here.” he commands the other scion in his authoritative tone again.

“more like fuck you…” he mumbles curses under his breath at marius’ request, huffing out in displeasure. with his dignity waning away, he finally moves on all fours across the deck floor. his weeping cock is stiff between his thighs while he crawls, especially when the silicone band is tightly wrapped around him. he slowly approaches marius after some lapses pass by and halts his body when he’s a few feet away from him.

“how touching… you can be a tamed mutt after all, huh?”

“oh piss off, von hagen! we both know i don’t have a choice!”

seems like the guys are distracted with their retorting remarks— perfect. now you’re the one with a smug look on your countenance, plotting a scheme of your own. at first, you’re covertly treading along the deck until both men are turning to quirk their eyebrows in utter curiosity. just what exactly are you planning? you rummage through your makeup bag until you locate your favorite lipstick, applying a fresh coat against your plump lips. afterwards, you blow a coquettish kiss in marius’ direction.

“i’m coming, babe.” you tease out, exuding confidence with such a seductive saunter of your gorgeous hips. you’re enticingly moving side to side with every step, ensuring their gazes are focused on your curves. “so be a good boy and just sit back…” you’re hitting your fiance with such saccharine laced killshots which repeatedly aim at his heart and dick— with every word, every glance, every whine of your curves, and every tempting purr you gift him. “because i love it when you’re watching me…”

you approach marius, swaying along to the tempo of the reverberating music which echoes across the cruise ship. your fingers traverse down the valley of your breasts, hands cupping your soft tits together as you knead them. and fuck, you feel immensely sexy while doing so. not delaying any further, you slip off your violet bikini top before tossing the piece of fabric to who knows where, causing your tits to spill out.

“fuck— so hot…” both men simultaneously groan when the swells of your soft breasts are finally exposed to their ravenous eyes, noticing how your nipples are puffy and erect. how they desperately wish to latch their tongues on your tits.

tracing further down the expanse of your stomach now, you whine your beautiful hips again, bending your torso to deliberately brush your ass against his abs. your provocative teasing has your fiance beckoning for more with a curl of his lips. he’s also patting his muscular thighs, a silent signal for you to be flushed against him.

“shit– bring that ass my way…” you gaze back at marius with an alluring smirk as you’re slotting your body between his legs. leaning backwards, you slowly and tantalizingly hover above until you’re plopping down, straddling his lap from behind— as if you’re about to do reverse cowgirl on his cock. “and grind on me like you mean it…” pressing your clothed cunt against his erection, you rock back and forth while reaching for his chains to pull him into a searing kiss.

you hear heavy panting closeby which serves as a reminder that you’re both not alone and it fuels the lingering desire coursing in your veins. “my queen…” he’s grinding his hips deliciously while his dick grazes your entrance, letting out moans. and for a second time, he purposely jams his bulge against your clit, feeling your cunt throb. “you look so fucking pretty on my lap… with other men watching…”

“oh my god… mmm… when you–” it’s as if you both are reigning over the coastal night together on this uppermost deck, especially when he’s mentioning you as his queen like this. and oh, how your beloved king dotes on you with his erection ramming into you just right. “mar–” your eyelashes flutter as you’re being pulled into another wave of carnal ecstasy, gushing with your arousal.

well damn— now you absolutely need to show them how soaked you are this instant. so, you lean on marius’ shoulders to push yourself off his lap before you’re twirling around to bend your plump ass. your hands play with the hem of your swimsuit bottoms, trailing down your thighs until you’re shimmying out of the wet fabric, exposing your glistening cunt. marius’ breath hitches at the erotic sight, while his amethyst eyes are completely fixated on your drenched hole.

“like what you see, babe?” you tease him, countering back with the same line he stated to you earlier. fuck yes— your cunt enraptures him every single time, eliciting his voracious appetite for your creamy slick. and at this exact moment, he merely wants to flaunt your radiating beauty in front of others— showcasing the absolute honor he feels of having you as his sexy fiancee.

“when my pretty princess is naked before me? hell yes…” marius suddenly pulls your waist closer and watches as your smaller frame tumbles down, with your torso being splayed out along his lap— and your ass in the air, aligning in the direction where the other scion is currently situated at. “marius? what are you doing…? oh–” he’s soon leaning over your back to spread your glistening folds with his long fingers, presenting your weeping cunt at an improved angle than before.

seems like the other heir is portraying his role as a mutt all too well. he’s drooling from the sight of your pussy alone, lolling his head to the side as the cock ring on his dick tightens. “shit…” with all of his might, he’s practically forcing himself to jack off later.

poor thing— if only he knew how difficult that’ll be when marius’ scheme progresses further into the night. your fiance eventually brings his awareness back by conversing to him about your pussy— or rather, he’s just being sly while taunting him again. your mouth starts salivating wildly at the pure filth which leaves their lips.

“oh, such a creamy little cunt we have over here…”

“m-mmm… so… w-wet… bet it t-tastes… sweet…”

“focus… how many times did she cum so far?”

“…o-one…? h-hah, wait!…”

“…it’s t-two…”

“are you sure? or are you bluffing?”

“t-two times!… f-fuck… it’s two…”

“that’s right… my fiancee came two times…”

“my favorite pussy in this entire world… only for me…”

marius fucking von hagen— he’s pressing his pecs against your back, uttering out the last words in a husky tone near your ear on purpose! as if you’re not already a horny mess— so he truly wants you to act like a slut, huh? so be it. your resolve of upholding patience withers away as you’re rushing to slot your body between his thighs again. “good girl… i was waiting for you to give into your urges of sucking my cock…”

his salacious gaze observes you sinking down on your knees to meet the deck floor, peering up at him with lidded eyes. “did you really believe i didn’t notice you thirsting over me earlier?” his overflowing lust spirals all over, soaring further when he notices droplets of your saccharine cum pooling onto the ground. how he desperately longs to settle between your plush thighs already, melding his milky semen together with your essence.

“more like this is all your fault— being such a bad boy and teasing me… how will you take responsibility?” you inch your countenance closer to his navel while grazing your nose against his soft flesh. with the last remnants of gloss on your plump lips, your mouth traverses along the expanse of his skin to pepper lingering lipstick stains in your wake. “fuck— so this is what you were planning…?” he hisses out when you’re trailing those scorching kisses towards his crotch, hooking the strings of his swim trunks between your fingers to seductively pull them.

“how cute… my little nympho…” you’re slyly grinning now while your hand brushes against his erection, reaching over to free him from his confines and tug down his swimwear. his thick cock immediately slaps back against his delectable abs, so hard and heavy with awaiting loads ready to be spilled inside your soaked cunt. leaking with drops of precum, his tip’s adorned in a flushed, raging cerise.

and you’re diving right in, grazing your lips along his swollen head to smear his milky arousal with your gloss. you lick against his pulsing slit to relish in his taste with dilated eyes, absolutely ravenous for more. after all, going delirious for his dick is your speciality. you’d always savor his semen as a delicacy any time of day, whether the hours linger past twilight or dawn. you sink your mouth down tightly around him now and he jerks forward in response, groaning out in pleasure with his husky voice.

“jiejie… shit– your mouth feels so good…” he’s been waiting for you to devour his cock the moment you shoved him into the hot tub, so his voracious lust simply cannot be quelled so easily. he needs more stimulation, more friction, more of you arousing his senses. yet, with his biceps flexing, he wills himself to act like a gentleman and revel in the erotic sensations of your light kitten licks, just for your sake. he knows how daunting it can feel while you’re adjusting to his massive size.

your searing tongue tries swirling along his ridges and leaking tip, eagerly persistent on pleasing your sexy fiance. gripping his cock with your smaller hand, you’re simultaneously pumping his length to appease the spit-firing coils of desire which are embedded deep within his dick.

but alas, he’s growing desperate, his patience waning with how your mouth envelops him with your warmth. “but i know you can take more. open wide, baby…” he merely wants to glide his cock down your throat as if it were your pussy, fucking deeper and deeper until his hips are flushed against your tear stained cheeks.

so, he cradles your head with his larger hands before pistoning forward. your yelps are muffled by his cock as you hollow your cheeks, adjusting to his girth while lapses pass by. “mgnhhh…” you can’t stop gagging every now and then while your drool slowly trickles down your chin, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. you’re just too immersed with every tantalizing drag of his dick at this point, until you hear a choked remark from afar. “f-fuck– suck von hagen’s cock…” the other heir continues his endless babbles as marius snaps his hips back and forth, “and n-ngh… swallow his c-cum…”

your sanity is actually nonexistent now because what the actual fuck? you’re absolutely going feral— having another man observe from afar while marius is deep throating you like this has your cunt clenching tenfold. “shit– i love fucking all your holes… every day…” your whines reverberate around his cock, stimulating the entirety of his senses. and when you’re bobbing your head over and over— mouth stuffed to the brim with his thick dick to meet his harsh thrusts, he’s heaving in and out.

“fuck… fuck! don’t waste a single drop…” he’s moaning until his hips are halting with a swift pause. his cum finally trickles down your throat as you’re swallowing his ropes of arousal with amorous perseverance. “take it all, just like that…” marius soon pulls out of your mouth to pump his still leaking cock, aiming to coat spurts of his hot cum on your face and tits. you lean closer in utter anticipation, feeling content when the creamy liquid shoots onto your silky skin.

however, now that you’ve gotten a taste of his dick, your libido is spiraling, ascending into a frenzy. your cunt is aching for the moment he’s sheathing himself into you. but shit, he’s persistent on edging you… perhaps you just need to coax him a bit further.

with hastened movements, you’re crawling up to straddle his lap, pressing against his raw cock. no barriers restricting you both, just the sensation of carnal desire between devoted lovers. now this… this is a friction worth chasing. you’re smearing your slick on his cock, gliding your cunt at a set, even pace. yet this time, he merely observes you with a smug curve of his lips.

marius wants you frantically begging him to enter your pretty little pussy; hearing your prolonged whines emit into the nocturnal night until you’re grappling at him, consumed whole by the lewd, desperate need to have his thick cock buried inside your walls. so no heated kisses, no searing touches, nothing at all… until you finally break.

the other heir gulps at your alluring voice, sucking in a shaky breath. he wishes he could swap places— of escaping this wretched, damn hellhole that your fiance dragged him into while having the honor to participate in the erotic action somehow— perhaps he’ll get his chance eventually.

“marius… please… just fuck me already!”

“hmm…? has my baby been edged on far too long?”

“need your cum inside… need your cock…”

“what? we can’t hear you… you’re mumbling…”

“please! fucking pleaseee!… i want your coc–”

you’re wailing out to him, too immersed with your beckoning to notice how he angles up his hips with such deft, precise accuracy. within seconds, he finally plunges his cock into your creamy cunt, eliciting a wanton moan that reverberates through your lungs. “babe! fuck i’m cumming… that’s the spot…” you immediately convulse when he spears his entire cock into you so suddenly, pulsing around him with such an iron grip that you’re orgasming right then and there.

a dizzying haze soon envelops your body, sending such sensitive tingles which amplify, reaching the entrance of your cervix. you’re becoming a delirious mess on marius’ cock as he halts, especially when another man just witnessed you squirting on your fiance. and oh, how the other scion wreaks absolute havoc with the pure filth he vocally directs your way. “s-shit… that pussy just keeps gushing, h-huh?” his words cause you to clamp down on marius even harder. you subconsciously can’t help it because he’s right, you’re still soaked. “cum on his dick again to complete… f-fuck… your fourth round, b-baby… you can do it…”

“oh? what’s this, jiejie…? you feel much tighter than usual…” marius gazes at you with a possessive, territorial gleam lurking in his amethyst irises, leaning closer to invade your personal space. his eyebrows narrow dangerously as the coquettish ambience shifts into jealousy, as if a looming winter was approaching. his thoughts plummet, with the swift thumping of his heart drowning his ears.

he’s dizzy. marius can’t fathom a world where you’re aroused by other men. he’ll truly lose his sanity if that ever transpires, merely wanting your attention all for himself. you’re his. your passion, your love, and fuck, your cunt are for him to indulge in alone. animalistic hunger courses through his veins while his final remnants of control are waning wildly— until at last, his waves of possessiveness reign victorious. fucking only his.

he originally provoked the other heir to prove men like him can solely look— being stuck in their reveries, daydreaming about touching your alluring body— in the end, he’ll always be the one and only man to claim your cunt. but now? oh, now he absolutely has to remind you who you belong to with every pounding thrust of his cock.

“was it because i said we?” he pistons up into your pussy again with such relentless force, while his muscular hands grip the sides of your hips with a vice grasp. you’re certain that cool toned specks will blossom tomorrow morning. he begins to aggressively penetrate you, his tip disappearing deep inside to repeatedly graze against your spongy, saccharine spot. your thighs are trembling, barely having enough strength to hover over his lap, yet you persist in your efforts. your breathing soon turns erratic as he continues fucking you mercilessly without pausing.

“i… fuck!” the dizzying sensation consumes you whole, of his cock sliding into your velvety walls, so gummy and slick. your cunt flutters around him every time, eliciting more of your essence to coat his ridges and veins. with your cum, he’s able to glide inside easier, reaching new depths. and at this point, you can’t process your thoughts properly— not when his stamina’s immune to waning, nor when he’s quickening his pace to swiftly slam himself back into your cunt even harder. “or are you liking attention from other men?” overwrought by the intense waves of pleasure he’s evoking from you, you’re soon trapped in a carnal daze— of riding his cock until you’re fucked senseless.

so, you’re setting a steady rhythm of your sensuous hips to meet his harsh thrusts halfway. his delectable abs flex in pleasure, his mind reeling at the way your soft breasts are bouncing with both of your combined movements. “s-shit! marius–” lifting your creamy cunt upwards to briefly squirm, his hips follow to wildly slap against your pussy. in response, you’re heaving out loud, titillating whimpers which send marius on a frenzy— before colliding down against his dick again and again, seductively rotating on his lap.

you can hear the erotic, squelching sound of your flesh smacking together, flooding the area even when the blasting music is still playing into the twilight hours— a sign of how rough you and marius are fucking.

your pussy envelops his cock in a firm, salacious embrace the more he bucks into you, tightly fluttering in sweet bliss. especially when he’s insistent on using his domineering tone on you. his husky voice is enough to make you go completely feral as you’re whining with desperate screams, not caring if other patrons discover the piercing echoes. “nghhh! too damn fast…” you’re bouncing on his dick faster now, upwards and downwards in a prolonged pursuit to reach peaks of ecstasy. his cock twitches at your grinding while traces of his pre-cum begin to leak inside your pussy, melding with your essence.

“want him to fuck your ass? double penetration…?” while he’s still ramming into your tiny cunt, you can discern curses being babbled by the other scion. “oh f-fuck… bounce on him… ride h-his cock…” you feel him attentively staring where you and marius are carnally connected and he locks a glance with you with lidded eyes. the cock ring on his dick appears unbearable, enhancing the flushed color tenfold. “milk him f-for… all he’s worth…” he fists his cock with pump after pump, sliding his fingers past his balls before thumbing at his tip with a moan.

“answer me, you dirty little slut!” one of marius’ hands lift away from your hip to smack your plump ass, causing your skin to bloom in a spit-firing cerise. you wail out from the sharp contact, your body quivering from the sudden, overwhelming sensation until he’s maneuvering you. he manhandles you, pulling your frame along with him to lay sideways on the lounge chair. now he’s spooning your body tightly against his own. your legs are splayed out as he’s lifting one of your plush thighs midair, showcasing your creamy cunt being plugged with his stiff cock.

“n-no! of course not!” widening your eyes, you gasp out when marius leans closer towards the swells of your breasts before laving his hot, scorching tongue along one of your nipples. due to his taller stature, he’s thankfully flexible enough to do so. your toes are curling when he slowly drags his cock into your wet heat, intending to have you trembling beneath him. fucking hell— it’s literally working. your cheek presses against the spacious, silken cushioning while you’re letting out huffs.

attempting to shift back on his dick for any sort of friction, your efforts soon falter when his free hand traverses towards your bundle of nerves. his deft fingers harshly pinch your pearly little nub with pressure until you’re yelping, “oh– oh fuck! babe, you know i only have eyes for you…” simultaneously, he pursues his objective of punishing you by latching his searing lips against your tit, suckling with vigorous intent— until he’s pulling on your pebbled nipple with his teeth.

“doesn’t seem like it when you’re clenching so tightly like this… in front of another fucking man…” he’s growling out, sheathing his cock into your cunt while steadily pounding. he drives himself in and out again and again, brushing his hips against your ass with resounding smacks. his ruthless thrusts result in the deck chair shaking violently every few seconds, loudly squeaking as he snaps into you from behind. both of your bodies wobble, swaying at the swift vibrations. you’re writhing underneath him while he continues spooning you, eyelashes fluttering as he speeds up the tempo of his thrusts. “pay attention to me… me alone…”

“marius! fuck– i’m gonna cum!” a final press of his tip hammering against your cervix has you screaming through your lungs. you swiftly convulse, your thigh quivering in his large, veiny hand. finally gushing all over his cock with a whine, you’re coating him extensively with more of your creamy slick. as your pussy tightens around him, he’s overwrought in pleasure following your intense orgasm. his belly twists, jerking roughly against you while his white, milky semen spills deep inside your cunt.

“more like you’ll take my cum all night like the whore you are…” another squeal leaves your body when marius’ warm arms wrap around your waist, hauling you up against his firm chest. your bodies are still carnally flushed against one another while he’s soon carrying you in his embrace, with drops of your combined fluids falling to the ground. “marius… please…” he ambles towards the edge of the balcony with hastened strides, as the other scion scurries with his aching cock— or rather crawls on all fours to not miss out on the fun.

“mmm… time for that p-pretty pussy… to– h-hah… cum a fifth time…” he drools, making you recall the countless moments your fiance has already coaxed you to orgasm. and there’s no possible way of taming him or his possessiveness like this. marius sets you down on the balcony railing before he’s hoisting your hips over his own with his strong biceps flexing, jamming himself along your velvety walls. his arms wrap so tightly around you, sucking out the air from your lungs. and his cock slides inside your cunt aggressively, fucking you with his constant, relentless pounding.

“o-oh! fuck– slow down so i can speak!” your teeth nip at his pecs as punishment, suckling to leave a heart shaped bite mark. the splotches forming on his skin serve as your masterpiece, leaving you content. he hisses out with a growl in response, viewing you squirm before him— separating your legs wider apart to invite his toned body even closer, fully on instinct to allow his stiff dick to repeatedly brush against your folds. “no… i’ll fuck this pussy how i see fit…” he watches as your melded liquids leak out further the more his cock splits your cunt open as he feels determined to fuck the creamy cum back into your wet heat.

his harsh thrusts cause your ass to move backwards on the railing, eliciting a loud screech from your lips. before your entire body tilts back, marius immediately tugs you into his broad chest. waves of intense adrenaline flow through you now while your breasts bounce wildly, with your erect nipples grazing his skin every time. his stiff cock mercilessly slams harder at a swift tempo, gliding to fill every inch of your tiny cunt with his ridges and veins. “s-shit– it’s like watching… f-fuck… live porn…” the other heir manages to babble with more of his ramblings while jerking into his hand. “m-mmm… clamp down on his cock h-harder… make him go insane for– a-ah… that tight pussy…”

you’re practically digging crescent indentations into marius’ biceps at this point, whimpering loudly at the predicament you’re in. it’ll be so clearly obvious from other patrons on the ground floor that he’s fucking you here and now, pistoning deeper into your weeping hole. especially when he’s hovering over you, slotted between your opened, quivering thighs. and your other dilemma? one wrong move or another slip of his fingers and you’ll be tumbling down from this balcony.

you should be alarmed by the potential dangers, yet… when marius is ramming so obscenely into your pussy like this, drilling your insides over and over, you’d take these risks a million times tenfold.

his cock twitches uncontrollably with the friction you’re gifting him, going delirious for a swift release. with his balls aching, his hips abruptly halt again— erupting such thick spurts of his milky cum deep within your womb. you’re trembling all over before joining him in peaks of shared ecstasy, creaming on his dick with wanton moans. “mmm… marius… want m-more… more cum…” beads of perspiration roll down the valley of your breasts, trickling until your sweat slowly drops against his pelvis. you’re also attempting to replenish your energy with quickened breaths while fluttering both of your eyelashes closed.

however, there are no moments of respite when he manhandles you again so that your arms are situated on the railing. his pecs brush against your back which seductively arches under his taller, looming frame, pinning you in a domineering manner from behind. he teases your entrance by grazing his still leaking tip, adorned with a blooming cerise, along your folds. he switches between grinding against your cunt and ass repeatedly, now smearing your ass cheeks with milky slick. “you fucking slut– all you can think about is cum… would you let any guy fill you up instead of me…?”

your body shifts forward when he suddenly rams his thick cock into your awaiting pussy, penetrating you from behind. you’re soon yelping out from his rough fucking while you dig your manicured nails along the railing. oh, falling into the horny abyss is an utter understatement now— perhaps it can settle as your new dwelling where you’re always ravenous, craving your fiance’s delectable dick and searing cum. the lingering smell of debauched sex wafts through the seaside air as marius ruts himself deeper and deeper, angling with such precision to brutally slam in and out of you.

“like that drooling idiot? or him over there…?” fisting the tresses of your hair, he tugs you over with no mercy whatsoever. oh fuck— there’s no point denying how you absolutely love the tingles of pain slowly morphing into pleasure. continuing to slide himself along your soft, gummy walls with rapid pumps, your eyes are darting to scrutinize another bold couple relishing in sex from below. your elevated location offers a clear, unimpeded view of such carnal desire. the other woman is bent over in pure bliss, gripping onto the edge of a vacant lounge chair as her man pistons from behind, plunging his cock back and forth.

observing the lovers from this whole new perspective, is that how debauched you currently appear? filled to the brim— entirely impaled by marius’ thick cock? then shit, you must look fucking sexy right now. your cunt clenches around him when his warm breath tickles your smooth skin, fanning along your ear.

“think he thrusts better than me?” as if a competition was transpiring out of the blue, he erratically thrusts harder than before at the entrance of your womb. his torrid pounding surpasses the other man’s as your vision feels hazy, too overwhelmed as your mind spirals out of control. “no! nghh.… fuck no! just you…” marius ensures your gaze is still fixated on the erotic scene from the ground deck by yanking your tresses, simultaneously bucking into your pussy at a swift, record rhythm.

his dick presses along that sensitive, saccharine spot you know all too well which has you squealing out, “your cock is the only one i want!” as if your scream reverberated across the cruise ship and the stars aligned, the couple below meets both of your prying gazes. well fuck— were you actually that loud? you can also discern heavy breathing from afar, as the other scion has edged himself in such prolonged intervals, precisely timing his sloppy jerking sessions. the cock ring around his dick allowed his flesh to blossom into vibrant, flushed shades of vermillion. so he needs to cum now, “let’s all cum together for… s-shit… your sixth round, b-baby…”

oh, such obscene, nasty acts of public sex indeed. marius spears deeply into your cunt, about to spill his searing load inside you while you’re maintaining eye contact with the other young woman. both of your salacious men are chasing the delicious friction for release, as you two are lewdly panting. being stripped with sweat glistening on your alluring, naked body just like this— in front of a larger audience as your fiance fucks you feels so damn good. all five of you are erupting in waves of lust, with spurts of milky semen coating your velvety walls. especially when marius continues fucking his cum into the depths of your cervix.

he soon pulls out of you as his stiff cock immediately slaps against your belly, still so hard and heavy with more loads awaiting to paint your creamy cunt. “oh really? prove it then, you little whore…” he suddenly hauls you over his shoulder while your feet dangle, ambling back towards the hot tub area with hastened strides. the other heir follows in pursuit, rushing over with hurried movements. your cunt is throbbing at the possible antics marius has planned next. you don’t have to ponder any longer though when he’s barking out an order to the other scion. “lay down on the floor now.”

despite his trembling form, he submits to your fiance’s request, leaning backwards to splay out his fatigued body. however, he immediately pauses— his eyes widening in disbelief when he views marius bending your plump ass so that you’re hovering right above… his face in a standing position… what the actual fuck?! it’s confirmed— marius is fucking insane.

your palms are now planted against the sturdy hot tub wall as your breath hitches, mind set ablaze in utter anticipation— until goosebumps finally bloom wildly at a shockingly cold sensation being pressed along your spine, coalescing with the cool seaside air. realization strikes you immediately— an ice cube?! how marius managed to covertly swipe the wet ice from your peripheral vision, directly from the drinks vincent prepared for you both, you’ll never know. he growls huskily with his authoritative tone, “i want to hear you beg…” he trails the ice cube along your back, gliding lower and lower while kneading one of your ass cheeks with vigorous intent.

he’s sinking down on his knees, watching as your abused pussy clenches around nothing. oh, his poor fiancee… he’ll ensure you’re filled to the brim in a moment. his lips are curling when his adept fingers wrap around one of your plush thighs, spreading your legs wider apart. “moaning for more of my cock…” tipping his head, his lips capture the ice cube before grazing it tantalizingly along your folds. you can’t help but squeal loudly, arching back while he begins to plunge the ice inside you. “marius! too… t-too cold! want you to warm me up with your cum…” it gets embellished with your creamy slick and his semen, covered entirely as lapses pass by.

“want you… i need your dick inside… plea–” he soon pulls the ice cube away until the chilly sensations migrate to your pearly nub. your body trembles at the sudden, stinging contact as if waves of an avalanche were hurtling towards you. yet suddenly, his breath is fanning against your cunt before he dives right in, burying his tongue to devour your pussy. he utilizes precise swirling motions deep inside, venturing along your gummy walls. it’s too much— all this friction is sending you into a frenzy.

especially when you hear the loud curses which escape the other scion’s lips, directly below your legs. he drools extensively, watching how marius’ tongue disappears into your wet heat, his hoarse throat running dry like a sweltering desert. he’s just far too entranced at this point, his gaze fixated on this rare, close-up view of your cunt.

you let out wails as your fiance licks long stripes between your warm folds with his searing tongue, moving upwards and downwards repeatedly. he spits while groaning, his amethyst eyes rolling back as he relishes in the intoxicating taste of your melded fluids as one— until he slaps your pussy with his fingers again. “more… spread those legs wider… admit that you’re all mine… mine alone…” brimming with tears, dew-like drops stream down your cheeks from this constant edging— of the way his tongue laps up your creamy cum, lewdly slurping every time. of his deft fingers rotating the ice cube along your bundle of nerves, numbing your swollen clit.

your hips frantically buck against his mouth over and over, with the contrasting temperatures causing your opened thighs to quiver nonstop. “say it… now…” oh fuck— his domineering voice will always render you powerless. the overstimulation teeters you far beyond your limits, as your incoherent babbles skyrocket, ascending for both men to finally hear your genuine, obscene thoughts.

“ngh… i’m marius von hagen’s cumslut! his little whore! only his…”

“and i get turned on when other men are seeing you fucking me… no one else… only you, babe…”

“good girl… my fucking good girl… that’s what i wanted to hear…”

he smirks against your throbbing cunt, rewarding you with rough jams of his scorching tongue. the chilly residue of ice along your clit makes a dizzying halo appear over your poor little head, swiftly convulsing in seconds— coaxing your pussy into your seventh orgasm of the night. oh— how the erotic fun will only progress, pressing on more and more.

marius immediately reverts back to a standing position with a smug lick of his lips as his cock twitches in desperation. after eating you out, he absolutely needs to fuck you again now. so, he slips himself into your creamy cunt from behind, grunting at the way you easily tighten around his dick with wanton need. “fuck… i can never get enough of this pussy… you’re sucking me in so well…” he’s setting a steady pace, penetrating the soft spot located at the base of your belly with all his might. your tits bounce against the frothing, effervescent aquamarine water with every harsh snap of his hips as it splashes along your erect nipples. “and i can never stop going feral over my favorite cock… so fucking horny for you…”

his amethyst irises practically dilate at the pure filth you’re uttering out, while he possessively drills harder and harder into you. seems you ignited his soaring passion tenfold. marius brushes against your ass with loud, resounding smacks, swaying slightly due to his own overstimulation. yet as always, he persists in his attempts to fuck your pussy properly. “yes… i’m the only one who could make you feel this good… just look at all this cum… our cum…” a milky ring of your essence and his hot semen smears his thick cock, flourishing to the tempo of his rapid thrusts.

enhancing the smell of sex wafting into the nocturnal air immensely than before with the amount of times he painted your wet heat a creamy white. perhaps the area will linger with the lascivious stench past twilight, transcending into the golden rays of dawn— then everyone will acknowledge what transpired— of your ardent marathon sex, right on this spacious deck with marius. you whine out when he’s hammering inside your cunt just right, angling with precise accuracy to slam deeper and deeper.

“f-fuck– oh fuck!” the other scion digs crescents into the center of his palms, hissing as he wills himself to maintain his last, remaining amounts of control. after all, he recently jerked off and this deal is of utmost importance. but his sanity wanes when he views you bending your plump ass back to meet marius’ hips halfway; of the constant carnal sound of skin slapping against skin— of your pussy being filled to the brim with nothing but your sexy fiance, right above his very lips— until his resolve finally withers away when he’s pumping his sensitive dick, pistoning his own hips upwards midair as if he was fucking your cunt. “you can… s-shit… cum for an eighth time… you’ve– mnghhh… already come this far…”

the desperate need to release overtakes you when marius’ pace stutters, his rhythm halting in place— overwrought with your orgasm blossoming, your whole body shakes violently for another time. “marius! mmmm… m-more… i can take more, so please…” both of your melded fluids trickle down to coat his pelvis and the back of your thighs, while milky drops splatter onto the other heir’s countenance from below. the rest trails down, slowly pooling onto the ground. now it’s his turn to fall into the horny abyss because what the actual fuck?!

“of course… just be my pretty slut and let everyone know who you belong to…” he twirls you around so that he can hoist your sensuous hips over his own before his larger, veiny hands cup your ass cheeks, resuming his relentless thrusts. your legs wrap tightly around his slutty waist, ensuring you have enough stability to bounce yourself on his cock. oh, how you desperately want your tongues tangled in a titillating dance. so you lean closer, entwining both of your lips together in vehement kisses, with marius moaning into the searing depths of your mouth. “nghhh! h-harder babe! i want my pussy all bruised up tomorrow as a reminder of tonight…” he’d be an absolute fool to refuse. he complies with your lewd request, plugging his stiff cock between your folds to split open your gummy cunt again and again.

however, the other heir widens his eyes when marius continues fucking into you with ease, ambling closer to him with an overbearing aura. he begins to flee by scuffling backwards, yet the silicone band reduces his movements to sluggish crawling. marius’ signature shit-eating grin adorns his face at this as his biceps flex, relishing in the sensation of your manicured nails traversing scattered scratches down his broad back. “oh? why are you backing away? isn’t this what you fucking wanted?” marius taunts him with a glance laced with mirth, cornering him to the edge of the cruise ship. now this type of payback? revenge even? fuck— it feels so damn good— so gratifying to claim his woman like this.

as your head lolls back while you mewl loudly in his ear, his dick kisses the entrance of your womb with vigorous intent…. all while your flushed bodies are hovering directly over the other scion’s head. his furrowed eyebrows are tense, with his chiseled jaw clenching before he groans out possessively.

“my woman...” thrust— “my muse...” thrust— “my one and only queen...” thrust— “mine.”

“m-marius… so deep! fuck! mmm hurry up… want to be leaking with your cum already…”

seems like his weekly weight training is convenient, coming in handy after all. marius’ muscular arms are still carrying your body in his salacious embrace, dragging your pussy back and forth in a tantalizing tempo. not a single moment of respite is needed while he stands with his taller, looming figure— truly impressive indeed. he pistons into your creamy cunt at such an unhinged, delirious speed, stretching your velvety walls until they feel battered and bruised— on the brink of tearing apart. his balls erratically tense up, pulsing as his searing spend is threatening to burst.

“hey asshole– watch me fill this pretty pussy up, yeah?”

with his tip jamming deliciously against your cervix, both of you are screaming loudly in unison, jerking against each other with such overwhelming orgasms. your pussy tightly flutters around him, squirting with your juices drizzling all over his cock and delectable abs like midnight rain. twitching deep inside you, his hot semen erupts in prolonged waves, spilling every drop. your bodies are truly melded together at this point, with the sticky slick fastening yourselves to one another like an amorous stitch. a shared canvas dripping with a searing mess of cream, of everlasting infatuation— just how you and marius envision this masterpiece.

meanwhile, spurts of pearly cum embellish the other man’s cheeks yet again— staining his countenance with a debauched, milky white essence— his entire body splays in utter shock, while a dizzying haze envelops him whole. he isn’t certain whether his enervated weariness is due to him jacking off for another round while you two were roughly fucking, or his weeping dick feeling unbearable, truly about to shatter from the silicone band. “she… came nine times… fuck…” he mutters in a rose blush, feeling a trail of your combined slick settle on his lips. with lightning speed, his tongue swipes to relish in the sweet yet salty taste, before he moans shamelessly.

“and tastes… s-shit… absolutely divine… just as i thought from this beaut… i’m fuck– seriously going insane… i can… mmm… get drunk on this cum any day…”

“oh? this mutt used his brain after all… huh… while it truly was a treat seeing you pathetically break as promised, scram… i want to finish fucking my woman in peace.”

the other scion doesn’t need to be coaxed any further. rather, what merely lingered in his mind was ripping off this wretched cock ring! to cum freely all he liked— with his staggering, cloddish feet, he’s standing with violent trembles coursing through his thighs. “thanks for the show, gorgeous… stay sexy.” he swiftly dashes off with the cock ring still nestled on his dick, intending to jerk off even more to the erotic scenes he committed to memory.

other than his strides finally echoing away, music continues reverberating across the spacious cruise ship, filling in the emerging silence. just— what the fuck? he looks hilarious right now— you and marius slowly gaze at one another with such perplexed expressions, until you both are chortling together with chuckles of mirth.

“what an idiot he is– ow! jiejie, i just gave you the best fucking marathon sex of your life…” he pouts when you’re playfully swatting at his chest.

“more like you should apologize to vincent tomorrow! really babe? a cock ring?!” your roseate cheeks shimmer under the glowing moonlight as you’re scolding him, desperately trying to withstand his signature puppy dog eyes.

yet you can’t deny the way your chest flutters wildly when marius leans down to murmur in your ear, whispering soothingly as he carries you. “sorry… i’ve been a bad boy…. but i was so jealous… had to prove no one else can have you but me alone… so don’t be mad at little old me… please?” he begs you helplessly in an adorable manner while clinging to your body, insistent on not letting you flee from his cuddly, warm embrace anytime soon.

whiny marius is surely going to be the death of you someday. or perhaps your downfall would be caused by persistent upsurges of cuteness overloads which constantly pierce your heart. “you big baby… i can never resist you, can i?” your nose affectionately nuzzles against his own, gifting him such delicate caresses. seconds later, your eyes are darting away from his watchful gaze, due to your sudden yet sheepish confession. “besides, i’m not that upset… um… you’re hot when you’re possessive… and i enjoyed it… a lot…”

he regains his lustful momentum upon hearing your words and curls his lips with an alluring smirk. both of you are now settled at your original location again, bodies entwined in sweet bliss. you remain leisurely perched on the hot tub wall while he lingers in the aquamarine abyss, kneeling to worship his goddess in all your coruscating glory. “oh? my lovely princess… i’m more than just possessive… i’m a hungry man and i’d die for you…” his lips graze along your sensuous curves to plant soft, endearing kisses against the cerise splotches— pampering your skin with such soothing caresses.

“i’d fight for you– fuck all those other men…” marius professes, traversing upwards past your navel, inching closer to finally latch his mouth along your swelling breasts— suckling your puffy nipples with delicate swirls and stripes as he’s kneading ever so gently. oh— with his breath fanning against your tits, a knot forms in your throat. how your heart soars to the twilight sky, reaching sirius as your rose blush blossoms tenfold. “i adore you more than anyone else ever could…”

his adoration envelops you whole and honestly, you wouldn’t want this any other way— so tender, so winsome— as always, you savor his infinite devotion with an inviting embrace. your libido ascends to new horizons, widening your plush thighs on reflex while you simultaneously swoon. how lucky you are to be marius’ muse indeed.

“i’m addicted… my body… my heart… hell, my cock aches for you every lasting second…” you’re falling backward on your wrists when he suddenly cages you with his muscular arms, seductively looming over your frame. dewed drops of warm water trickle down his toned figure, glistening along with the ivory moonlight as if he posed for a lavish painting. “so let me have more of this sweet pussy…” his tip slowly presses against your wet heat, sinking right back into your sensitive, velvety walls easily. you can’t help but clench, your cunt tightening around him at being filled to the brim for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. “m-marius… when you talk like that… mmm…”

“that’s it… good girl… always spoiling me so well…” he’s gently rocking into you while caressing your drenched pussy with slow, leisurely thrusts of his cock— full of fervent passion which overflows like a cascading waterfall. you’re whining when he pumps in and out with tender precision, tantalizingly rolling his hips against your own. how endearing— in the end, he’ll always be a cordial gentleman willing to dote on you, his beloved fiancee. as your toes are curling, his languid strokes cause his dick to slip out of your gummy cunt and slap against your luminesced skin.

“be a good boy and let me take care of this, yeah?” your sultry command halts his body in place as your smaller hand reaches over to fist his cock, pumping your dexterous fingers in a teasing tempo. spurts of creamy cum land on your wrist in the process, trailing down your arm. and oh— you can’t deny how his provocative grunts are like mellifluous harmonies— sweet yet husky melodies for your ears alone. he exhales with shaky groans, scrutinizing in delight at how his entire length is slowly being pushed back inside by your hand, inch-by-inch.

all you merely desire is for him to become a drunken, concupiscent mess again; oozing waves of delirious wanton need as he succumbs to his desperation of frantically colliding his body with yours and splitting your tiny cunt apart. to watch him unfold, unraveling little by little until he finally breaks.

“let loose… lose control, babe…” that dizzying haze overwhelms his senses again when you direct sultry murmurs his way while nipping at the sweet spots along his neck. marius’ heartbeat ascends into a complete frenzy, thrumming within his chest. lose control…? fuck— his dick throbs inside you as you continue melding your carnal flesh together— easing the remaining inches deep within your pussy. “it’s okay… i know you want to…” your forehead presses against his own, with tousled strands coated with perspiration and labored breathing all coalescing as one.

“besides, i love your feral side… so break me…” with your legs securely wrapping around his slutty waist, you unveil your plan as a mastermind would. the dominoes cascaded in a formal line, tumbling when your palms shove against his pecs with unfaltering force. afterwards, both of you are stumbling into the aquamarine abyss below with a piercing splash. oh shit— your bold antics cause his amethyst eyes to dilate in raw intensity as the salacious surging in his chest finally snaps— what lingers in its wake is a libidinous marius consumed by lustful greed.

“jiejie… you really do drive me insane… fucking kiss me…” he cursed, fisting the tresses of your hair to maneuver you closer, capturing your lips in a sealing, risqué manner. his hunger emanates so vehemently, igniting fiercely like scalding fireworks in the nocturnal night— tongues clashing over and over in a heated pursuit of dominance. your eyelashes soon flutter closed as you grapple at his broad shoulders while leaving crescent indentations— relishing in the erotic potency of his passion for you, his queen. solely you. he swallows your mewls with a ravenous gleam in his gaze, far too immersed with your flustered state to waver his steady eye contact. you’re so addicting. he could stare all day.

marius’ other arm slithers around to encircle your waist, guiding you to sink down further on his thick cock completely as his ridges and veins plug your weeping cunt with his previous hot loads underwater. “babe… go rough and hard, just how we like it…. plea–” your pleading is abruptly interrupted when he finally commences his rough fucking again, eliciting you to seductively arch your back with such piercing screams. “oh– fuck yes! feels so g-good…. fuck this pussy harder…” the spit-firing sensation of him ramming upwards into your tight hole again and again stings your bruised, battered pussy delectably. you can’t help but feel hypnotized on the spot. now this? this type of fervor lust is a concupiscent high you’ll never recover from.

“i said harder… don’t you dare fucking slow down…” you provocatively order him by embellishing his back with long, intricate cerise scratches littering along his soft skin. he’s immediately growling out in response, huffing as he jams his twitching dick with merciless force, intending to chase the delicious friction. “or what? my poor baby can’t keep up…?” a sultry tone is embedded in your teasing, falling from your plump lips before a widening smirk adorns your countenance. your flushed bodies are submerged in the aquamarine abyss while the warm water ripples with the sways of the tides, evoking effervescent bubbles to froth all around— foaming afloat the turbulence with the way you’re bouncing on him while he teeters underneath you— feeling too engulfed in the ardent pleasure.

the sloshing sounds of your bodies colliding emit into the seaside air, ascending louder and louder with reverberating smacks. perhaps if lingering patrons are roaming along the ground floor below, would they be able to discern the obscene, wet noises of you and marius indulging in hot tub sex together? you truly hope they do.

“jiejie… careful with what you wish for… who said i was slowing down?” seems like you’ve really coaxed marius’ feral side to unveil before you now. with his signature shit-eating grin reciprocating your smirk, he impishly manhandles your smaller frame by pressing your back against the interior of the hot tub. “i just wanted to fuck you in this new angle…” his strong, veiny hands reach over to bend you entirely in half, lifting your glistening legs in his vice grasp before shoving them against your shoulders. allowing his cock to hammer even rougher in this lewd position. the silken mounds of your tits graze along your plush thighs every few seconds, bouncing with his swift strokes.

“marius! oh fuck– fuck! fucking right there…” you moan with heaving sighs of titillating bliss when he spears into the sweetest spot of your womb, rocking back and forth with harsh, receding snaps. you soon feel your tenth orgasm blooming at the base of your belly, threatening to squirt all over his drenched cock. writhing erratically from below as his hips gradually stutter, your slick gushes around him, coalescing with his scalding ropes of cum which paint your walls a creamy white. “mmm… fuck yeah– that’s it, my queen… milk me… show me who this dick belongs to…”

marius’ towering body pins you down, looming over your own while he still desperately pounds inside your overstimulated cunt— rutting with aggressive thrusts which cause cool, dew drops to brim along your eyelashes. despite your vision turning into a misty haze, you gaze upwards at the twilight sky being illuminated by millions upon millions of shimmering stars that gleam and glow— absolutely awestruck at the twinkling, ivory specks which hover above marius so exquisitely, who reigns as the king of this nocturnal night. how you’re dazzled by the glimmering stars. dazzled by your one and true love. mesmerized by the manner in which he glistens like an empyrean god, even when he’s roughly fucking you like this.

he far surpasses your comprehension of everlasting love. how can a man be this divine? so utterly devoted and infatuated with your very existence? it truly leaves you love-struck, drunk on this profound luxury you cultivated as a couple, on your reciprocated adoration for him alone. nobody will ever comprehend this surging sensation of intense yearning like he does. solely he knows. your future husband. you’ll both be besotted together for eternity.

fervent waves of passion unravel through your very being as always, slithering along while his cock ventures deeper and deeper, breaking through your soaked pussy. you fucking love every tantalizing drag, every sensual killshot he aims into your wet heat. locking intimate eye contact with marius, your lidded gaze remains steady, fixated on his amethyst irises which resemble coruscating galaxies. you instantly profess, “my king… oh fuck… you’re my absolute everything… my one and only, my lifeline…” you both simultaneously lean closer to tenderly press your foreheads together once more, feeling so erratically needy. needing to be entangled in a binding mess of passion and scalding cum again and again until sunrise emerges.

“mmm… no other man could ever rival you… the king of my heart… only you can impress me with your charm…” you feel marius pulse within your gummy walls that swallow him whole, reeling wildly upon hearing your praises being directed at him alone. twitching in utmost satisfaction with his raging tip still leaking more drops of precum while he’s bumping against your swollen cervix in an amorous manner. you’re catching your breath to mewl out, “i’m hooked on your love… your cock… want to milk you alone…” he groans huskily in utter pleasure, bucking deliciously into you at a rapid pace— marking his own ornate crescents along your silky thighs that he restrained with both of his larger, muscular hands— roaming and gripping your plush flesh as if his life solely depended on it.

“fuck princess– more… nghh… this greedy bastard wants to hear more of your beautiful voice… fucking please…” he manages to moan out his whiny pleas, penetrating your slick cunt in aligned tempo with the pulsating music. how cute… he’s begging you again, consumed by a delirious urgency to discern every rise and fall of your ethereal tone as he fucks in and out. so, you choose to bask in this sacred, salacious moment. you comply with his request, obliging by trailing your fingers coquettishly down his chest and stomach before tracing intricate heart patterns along the branded lipstick stains you left on him. “i wish you could see how pretty you are when you’re fucking my cunt… my pretty boy… all mine…”

as his delectable abs immediately flex under your light and airy caresses, he grows immensely feral as lapses pass by— his cheeks adorned with a scintillating, ruby glister which radiates down his neck. you actually called him your pretty boy? marius might as well advance your anticipated wedding to a sooner date because shit— he’s melting on the spot, right then and there. loud whimpers escape from the voids of your mouth when he drives himself even faster, quicker at lightning speed into your fluttering pussy. “fuck… oh fuck! and i’m yours… i’m all you’ll ever need… mmm… say you love me… come on, baby… only me…” he chokes with rushes of adrenaline, hoarsely begging for your honey laced endearment to send him rocketing to heavenly saturn.

trembling underneath his seductive body, you feel your back being pressed harder into the crevices of the hot tub from his rough hammering. his brutal assault of every slam, every precise rut drilling within your cunt over and over until your periphery is slowly blurring out again. solely focusing on your dear fiance, you avow gently, “i love you, marius… i love you so damn much…. i’ll remain forever by your side as your queen… showering you with all my attention and affection…” you swipe your soft lips against his own, peppering swarms of kisses his way to finally alleviate the last remnants of his jealousy. within seconds, marius beams in content like the golden retriever energy he exudes. an uplifting boost from his lovely jiejie is the type of remedy he craved all along, his true solace.

he moves to squeeze one of your thighs firmly in his bicep, slotting himself so inextricably closer against your entrance as the other dangles back and forth midair. ramming into the labyrinth of your pussy with frenzied movements while he slams his thick cock again and again; grazing your slick walls with hasty thrusts as he prods into you, submerging deeper into this torrid yet euphoric tidal wave. you briefly separate from the amatory kisses to replenish your breathing supply of air, yet marius doesn’t let you escape so easily. his free hand deftly cradles the back of your neck with a hastened pull before his searing lips capture yours once more, devouring every sharp gasp as flames blaze within his lungs.

“your king loves you more… so much fucking more… nghh… i’ll always give you the world in every possible way… treat you like royalty, a goddess… because only you matter, my muse…” marius huskily remarks, pulsing from the carnal friction which tightly clasps his raging, spit-firing dick. he’s on the literal brink of bursting with the way your cunt embraces him— so inviting, enticing with your every clench that spurs his approaching release. you’re soon noticing how his hammering becomes sloppier, harder, faster as he groans, “my sole obsession… continue ruining me for the rest of eternity… on fated days like this…” grappling at his taut muscles, you attempt to frantically buck in sync with him, grinding against his toned pelvis— further slipping his cock into your quivering hole.

“oh babe… you don’t even have to mention that… there’s nothing more i wouldn’t want than for you to stay buried inside my cunt forever… whispering sweet nothings as we profess our love… you’d like that, right?” you tenderly coo to him, declaring your mutual wishes of being tangled together in besotted passion and mind-blowing sex for eons to come. he practically whimpers with furrowed eyebrows, morphing into an ethereal, panting mess. “jiejie… nghhh… i…” his desperate pistoning amplifies as a searing heat you committed to memory coils all along your belly the more he fucks you. you’re both so close. so fucking close to shamelessly orgasming in this public hot tub yet again.

“hmm? feeling tongue tied from the pleasure? hell no, we both know you just wanna cum…” you impishly tease him, playfully leaning upwards to graze your tongue along his sensitive pecs and nimble down. marius’ whines resound stridently, moaning like a manwhore. your fucking manwhore. he doesn’t give a damn if his name is trending tomorrow at this point, surging like wildfire from being caught. you’re sucking harder when he greedily penetrates your velvety cunt with slowly faltering strokes, breaking through your wet heat ever so fervidly. one thing is for certain in your debauched, lascivious mind. time to coax marius over the edge and deliver the final blow.

“go on, baby… mmph… show me how sexy you look when cumming inside this pussy… let’s do it together…” your lidded eyes remain fixated on his contorted countenance while he drives his last pumps inside you. basking in the lewd squelching of your joined flesh, of his cock ramming with such teetering thrusts. “fuck! cum with me, princess… fucking cum and milk me dry–” he deeply slams with a piercing push as your body responds to his command on instinct. thrashing and squirming all at once, both of you are harmonizing in a crescendo of moans which spurs mizzles of cum to entwine as one. “marius! i’m gonna–” within seconds, ivory dew drops rapidly spill into your weeping cunt before seeping out into the hot tub. he soon presses against your arched body when you’re still convulsing around him, simultaneously soaking his cock with more of your pearly slick and his sticky semen.

“good girl… see? told you we’d fill this hot tub with our cum…”

“mmm… you always keep your promises, babe… that was so fucking hot…”

he slyly smirks at your remark before coquettishly winking your way. well— seems like you can finally eliminate ‘having public sex on a cruise ship while an audience watches’ off your salacious list of fantasies. while you’re cockwarming him, marius eventually carries your frame and finally ventures out of the aquamarine abyss. he’s tender with his aftercare, pampering you on the lounge chair as he wipes the lingering cum off your pussy with a towel. after vigorously fucking, stargazing surely serves as a serene ambiance for devoted lovers such as yourselves. so he ambles to retrieve the drinks vincent prepared.

when he returns, you snuggle in his warm embrace and relish in the saccharine taste of the alcohol to replenish your energy, combating your parched throat. marius rewards you by traversing his wandering lips towards the crook of your neck, pecking your beating pulse with delicate kisses. in response, distant constellations shimmer from above, twinkling back in celebration of your fond affection for one another.

the silence is tranquil, idyllic, ever so soothing… until—

“watch that bastard come crawling back for more– means i’ll get to fuck you senseless again… unless…”

suddenly, you feel a familiar erection graze against your silky thigh and can’t help but squeal in shock when he hauls you over his shoulder again.

“marius! can’t you calm your dick for a second?!”

“but jiejie, we haven’t even soaked the bed yet!”

#marius #tears of themis #tears of themis smut #marius von hagen #lu jinghe #marius x reader #marius von hagen smut #lu jinghe smut #tot smut #marius smut #tears of themis marius #tears of themis fanfic #tot marius #luvymuses #feral over marius for days #s(creaming) over possessive marius

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mistle10 · 10 months

Text

Late Manuscript | Yae Miko x Fem!reader

Pairing: Yae Miko x afab!fem!reader

Rating: 🔞🔞🔞

Summary: After attempting to turn in your latest manuscript to the publishing house late, Guuji Yae decides you need a bit of a punishment.

Content: spanking, minor humiliation, praise, dom/sub dynamics

Word count: 1.3k

Fic under the cut!

*i know she doesn't have a tail most of the time but it's just so cute

Miko hummed with an indistinguishable tone as she flipped through the pages you had handed her.

"This is nearly a week late, you know," she chided, "I'm not sure if I'm going to have time to read through it before it goes off to editing."

"Apologies, Lady Yae."

You swallowed nervously. For some reason, you had particularly struggled with this manuscript. Every time you had sat down to write, the main characters left your head, replaced by yourself, and…

"How about…" Miko hummed, that fox like grin crossing her face. "You read this out loud for me, dear?"

Her words caught you off guard. Read it out loud? But this manuscript was pure unadulterated smut! You felt your cheeks heat up as she stared at you, with a smug expression as if she already knew the answer.

She tapped her foot, flicking the papers a little bit, before you finally nodded. Miko's eyes crinkled a bit, and she handed back your papers to you, leaning back against her desk.

"Good girl," she purred. "Why don't you pick it up on page one?"

"Yes, ma'am," you spoke, turning over to the first page. "It started-" you cleared your throat nervously, looking up at her for reassurance.

"It started as a simple relationship between colleagues. She had always been friendly. But now, as I stood here, bare, before her, I-" you began to read, but paused, your face red with embarrassment.

Yae chuckled lowly.

"Don't stop now."

The tall woman stood, strolling around the office to get a good look at you. You felt her eyes boring into you, lingering on certain spots. It felt… good. Her attention was addicting.

"As I stood here, bare, before her, our relationship felt anything but. She slowly reached out, her hands brushing my hips, waist, then slowly, soft hands cupped around my…" you read, but quickly flustered again.

"Lady Yae, is this really nessecary?"

You looked up from your manuscript only to be face to face with the kitsune herself. Miko reached out, running a hand through your hair. Her nails lightly brushed your scalp, illiciting a shiver. She seemed pleased.

"It's not." She admitted casually, giggling lowly. "But I have a feeling you want much more from me than just a manuscript review, hm?" A pink eyebrow raised.

"Really now, darling, you believed an erotic story about a writer and her editor would slip past me?"

A devious grin spread over her face now, as you went pale.

"It's not-" you protested.

As her arms wrapped around you, you lost your train of thought.

"Now, now, darling," she purred, "you know, you're so cute when you're florid." She chuckled. "Now, I do believe you need some sort of punishment for handing in your manuscript so late."

Her hands deftly worked over your clothes, slender fingers undoing the folds of your kimono. Your willingness was all the consent she needed, after all, you'd wanted this for a long time.

As her hands slipped over your soft breasts, cupping them for a few moments, you felt heat pool between your legs. A small whimper passed your mouth, and the woman licked her lips, pulling your body close to hers. Miko slipped your outfit down, dropping the kimono down your body until it pooled in a heap at your feet.

Her tail swayed behind her, and pink hair spilled over your shoulders as her soft mouth made work over your neck and collar.

Her touch was electric.

"Why don't you bend over my desk for me, darling?" She purred, and she didn't have to ask twice. You didn't hesitate, folding yourself over the edge of the wooden frame. It was embarrassing, being so exposed like this, but you couldn't bring yourself to end it. This is what you wanted, and you had to see it through.

Miko's hands ran over your now bare body, cupping and grabbing in all the right places- you were a mess. The hands that once worked with such delicacy with her quill were now moving over your hips shamelessly, her right thumb brushing over your folds, teasing you.

"Lady Yae-" you gasped, her name on your lips, "Miko, please- I need-"

"Need what?"

Her voice was saccharine, low as she whispered in your ear. "You're being punished, remember?"

Her hand made contact with your ass in a firm slap, leaving a red mark. The sting was pain, it was pleasure, all wrapped into one, and you couldn't help but whine.

"Now now, I know you can do better than that," Miko purred, her hand rubbing the spot she just spanked. You knew she wasn't actually punishing you, not with how her hand wandered over your body and teased your pussy.

You swallowed your pride, taking a few deep breaths before you spoke again.

"Please, ma'am-" you gasped as her fingers brushed your pussy, "please-"

Another spank, right on your ass. Another stinging pain and another pleasured moan from your lips.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

You could almost hear her grinning, her tail swaying behind her as she moved behind you. Her body was warm, pressing against your backside. You felt so exposed and vulnerable to her touch.

"I need you-" you whined, "Please, I need you, please-"

Your face was red with embarrassment as she chuckled behind you. She moved one hand up, cupping one of your breasts. Your heart thumped in your chest as her other hand made contact with your clit, teasing you.

"You need me? Such a good girl for me," she cooed. "Was this your fantasy, dear? When you were writing that?"

Her free hand stayed between your legs, fingers gliding over your slit. The slick heat of your pussy was all it took for her to push her fingers inside of you, the intrusion causing you to moan softly. You had needed this for so long, had wanted her for so long, but you never imagined the first time you'd have her would be like this.

"Look at you," she teased, her voice low, "all spread out, dripping wet on my desk-"

Your body jerked as she curled her fingers inside of you, her thumb teasing your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming, and she continued to speak as you lost yourself to her.

"Oh my… so obedient, such a good girl, taking my fingers like that…" she chuckled lowly.

"L- Lady Yae!" You gasped. You could feel yourself tighten around her fingers, and her hand came down from your breast, leaving another harsh spank on your ass.

You hissed, the sting bringing a unique type of pleasure.

"Are you going to turn in any more manuscripts late?" She questioned, her fingers curling inside you again.

Your head was fuzzy. It felt like all the blood in your body had rushed down to your core, pooling there as she moved her fingers inside you.

"No- I- I won't! Please just let me cum- mh-" you whined.

Miko's fingers continued to work inside of you, and you moaned, unable to stop the slurry of whimpers passing your lips. You could feel it building inside you, that slow wave of pleasure that threatened to spill at any moment.

"Please-" you pleaded.

"Good girl." Miko praised, and you felt yourself tighten around her fingers.

You came hard, gasping as the orgasm wracked through your body. She didn't stop, continuing to work her fingers inside you without mercy even as you came down. You were shaking, gasping for breath. Your face was bright red as she finally slipped her fingers from inside of you. You couldn't help but whine at the feeling of being empty, missing her fingers already.

Miko chuckled softly, reaching up to pet your hair now.

"Well, that was quite a good scene," she commented, leaning over you with a soft smile.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you looked up at her. She was beautiful.

"And it would be a shame to let it go to waste," she continued, moving a lock of hair from your face. "Perhaps I can provide inspiration for a new erotic book for the publishing house… fufufu," she purred, watching as you redressed.

#genshin smut #yae miko smut #yae miko #i didnt proof read this

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ryuichirou · 4 months

Note

Since you have some headcanons on fem Floyd/Riddle, do you have any other genderswap ship headcanons for say Rook/Vil, Ace/Deuce and Idia/Azul? Sorry if that’s a bit too much

Anon, thank you for this ask! I’m always happy for the opportunity to talk about them, so I was actually excited to write this reply lol Since there are three ships there, it ended up being a bit lengthy, but I hope you enjoy the headcanons.

Just like in the FloRid post, the majority of the headcanons are more or less sexual, because the general dynamic between the characters wouldn’t change much.

Ace/Deuce:

They are pretty much “these two girls who always mess around with each other and it’s obvious that there is some sexual tension between them but they can’t acknowledge it”… yeah, just like the regular Ace and Deuce lol But with more boob grabbing… Well, usually from Ace’s side. Deuce also grabbed Ace’s boob one or two times but only as a revenge, and felt super weird about it. In general, sometimes it feels like they just try to come up with excuses to touch each other.

Which means they are also “these two girls who secretly kiss each other and say it’s some kind of practice”. This was also Ace’s initiative: Deuce only agreed because she didn’t want Ace to think that she chickened out. Or maybe there were other reasons hmmm? But yeah, they “practice” kissing every night, sometimes with Ace telling Deuce to imagine that she’s kissing her future husband or something, but it kind of makes Deuce’s kisses more stiff and awkward, which Ace finds hilarious.

Their kissing sessions would definitely lead to them touching themselves under the same blanket first, and then to them just touching each other. And they’re really a bit dumb and honestly think that their roommates don’t know what they do… but in all fairness, they really try to be secretive about it. Sometimes they even bite each other not to make any sounds.

One night they had a whole room to themselves, and got so excited that wanted to try something other than touching each other sneakily under the blankets. In short, they tried to do the scissoring thing… and didn’t really do it right, couldn’t find the balance, long story short they ended up falling off the bed.

Like I mentioned in another post, both of them wear sports bras, but own other sets too. And there’s been a couple of times when Deuce had to wear a regular bra, and just couldn’t make the little hook thingy in the back work. So yeah Ace helps her to put it on sometimes.

Rook/Vil

Like I already said in another post, Vil (just like the regular Vil) wears whatever she wants, and Rook prefers something functional (albeit stylish), so it’s not unusual to see Vil in a beautiful dress accompanied by Rook in a pantsuit. But if they were to get married, both of them would probably wear suits.

Not necessarily a headcanon, but a thought: with these two being girlies, Vil forcing Rook to take care of her hands and fingernails makes even more sense lol The first time was kind of rough for them. It wasn’t bad at all, but Rook was never allowed to touch Vil with her hands unkempt anymore.

Rook is skilled enough and knows Vil’s body well enough to make her orgasm in less than a minute, but she also likes to take her time and torment Vil a little bit. She likes it when Vil is having a hard time keeping it together and is getting impatient. Vil, however, sometimes just needs Rook to grab her, make her cum and then be free to do whatever she was doing before that. So whenever they sneak out, and instead of hitting all the right buttons at once Rook starts to tease her through her underwear, Vil gives her this very angry yet aroused look that Rook adores.

They are one of the couples who know everything about their own preferences, but also experiment from time to time. The catalogue of positions they like is quite vast, mostly due to both of them being flexible + Rook being very inventive. These are also the reasons why these two have absolutely mastered the art of scissoring lol

Rook is also very skilled with her tongue, because Vil is kiiind of hard to please, so one has to learn and improve to be able to satisfy her. One of Rook’s most absolute favourite indicators that she’s doing a good job is the fact that she can feel her head and neck being squeezed by Vil’s merciless thighs.

Azul/Idia

Azul is a bit of a touch-me-not: she likes being complimented on her looks, but is very uncomfortable with people touching her. Which is why Idia is a perfect partner for her: Idia is a bit intimidated by Azul’s natural sex appeal, so she never touches her and just lies on her back and accepts her fate.

That being said, sometimes Idia is allowed to rest her head on Azul’s lap. “No no, I’m good” Idia says at first, because this position is way too romantic and awkward, but then Azul forces her down and Idia just drowns in just how comfy Azul’s thighs are and how sweetly her perfume smells… if only Azul stopped squeezing her shoulder so hard to keep her down…

Sometimes they have sex a couple of times per day, sometimes they don’t have sex for a long period of time, and it’s because of Azul. She is a mermaid and doesn’t get human periods, but she must have some sort of cycle going on, because in general it’s like she doesn’t think about sex at all. Sometimes Idia looks at her and thinks “I wonder if Azul-shi knows how sexual this pose/gesture is”, and chances are, she doesn’t, because she’s too busy thinking about the lounge. But the next day Azul suddenly gets into the mood, tosses Idia, mounts her, kisses her, almost purring like a cat.

Azul (wo)manhandles Idia a lot in general. She tosses her, moves her around, throws Idia’s legs on her shoulders and stuff. Idia finds it both way too intense (not a bad thing lol) and a bit funny, because Azul tries so hard to look like a lady, but her actions are almost like of a hentai manga mob. Azul doesn’t fully understand what Idia means, but slaps her butt for that. It sounds offensive.

Azul is scarily good at cunnilingus for someone who doesn’t have much experience with sex. Or maybe it’s only good for Idia because she likes it when it’s strong and intense?? In any way, it doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, Idia isn’t sure if she is going to die faster because she’s overwhelmed or because she’s embarrassed.

#replies #headcanons #genderswap #rookvil #azuide #adeuce

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xxlovelynovaxx · 8 days

Text

Oh lovely, the transandrophobic "trans inclusive" rad/ical feminis/ts are now calling te/rfs "twerfs" (trans woman exclusive radi/cal femin/ists).

Hey, you know how terfs "soured" a lot of people on genuine, intersectional feminism?

You're just them but trans, regardless of your gender. You're JK Rowling and Dave Chappelle in blue white and pink. You're writing essays on the evil predatory (trans) men invading (trans) women's spaces and mutilating their bodies with testosterone and cutting off perfectly healthy organs and rejecting the only good gender as traitors.

That last part is just verbatim, even.

Add trans in front of the genders in any transphobe's horrific ranting and you get your own posts. You're cruel, you're class traitors, you're feds in binders and gaffs too pathetic to even demand pay for the work you're doing for our oppressors.

Trans unity means I never give up fighting for your rights, even as you're throwing them to the wolves just for a taste of what it feels like to have your boot on someone else's throat. You justify it because of who you say has faced the "worst" pain, has been hurt the "most" by (trans)misogyny, because don't you know that women have the right to speak over any other marginalized person on their own oppression because only women really know what it's like to be oppressed?

Merlin's unwashed nutsack, do you fuckers even hear yourselves? You're indistinguishable from ter/fs!

Yeah, I'll keep fighting, because I can understand that even the most sniveling narcs who think they're "saving" people by betraying them, even the people radicalized enough that they actually believe in the bullshit they're spreading, don't deserve oppression.

Quite frankly, this post isn't FOR them, no matter how much it's worded like it is, because rage is not a tool of deradicalization and I refuse to judge even bigots every bit as taken in as your average Jehovah's witness or Amish person for doing harm while being victims of the group they're doing harm for.

(All the same, the accusations of trans people being indoctrinated and taken in by "MRA shit" are not only blatant projection, but also in the rare cases that they are true, pale in comparison to the quantity and scope of harm done by this actual significant growing group of radicalized trans people .)

Since I've mainly seen people with some form of "baeddel", who call people "transandrophobia truthers" or "transandrodorks" doing this, perhaps people need a reminder that baeddels were a group who took that name themselves (after it had fallen out of usage for several hundred years, claiming they were "reclaiming" it) who did a shit ton of harm to transmascs, nonbinary people, intersex people, and transfems.

These trans-woman "inclusive" radic/al fem/inists who actually are dangerous and violent towards every transfem that doesn't agree with you. TWIRFs are not a fucking joke. And to be exceedingly clear, there's a reason I hyphenated trans-woman in the acronym spelled out, because it's an adjective modifying inclusive; trans people of every gender make up "twirfs".

There's a decent chance they'll either take "twirfs" and wear it like a badge of honor, like some t/erfs do, or claim it's a slur, like... oh, like some terf/s do. I've read the playbook, and if there's a play I haven't laid out, I'm sure it'll be just as uninspired and plagiarized from te/rfs. But who knows, maybe they'll come up with something new and horrific and surprise us - every so often, ter/fs do that too.

Anyway, if you see this post and wanna tell me, an intersex transneufemmasc, what a horrible awful transmisogynist I am for acknowledging all forms of oppression I face and not just the single one I share with most of you, fuck off and block me. I've got no time for the usual suicide baiting, florid violent fantasies of me being raped and/or tortured and/or killed, and the like.

Besides, while you are fucking dangerous, I've got worse danger to deal with than you on a daily basis, for being a visibly genderqueer fat disabled person in a place where everything from gender roles to medicine is stuck in the 18-fucking-hundreds. I truly do not have time for your bullshit.

#transandrophobia #transmisandry #exorsexism #intersexism #transmisogyny #ceterophobia

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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 3 months

Text

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirty

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: netural

el's thoughts: i really like this part :) enjoyyy

series masterlist

Kaz sped through the upper cells, sparing brief seconds for a glance through each grate. Bo Yul-Bayur would not be here. And he didn’t have much time.

Part of him felt unhinged. He had no cane. His feet were bare. He was in strange clothes, his hands pale and ungloved. He didn’t feel like himself at all. No, that wasn’t quite true. He felt like the Kaz he’d been in the weeks after Jordie died—before Y/N— like a while animal, fighting to survive.

Kaz spotted a Shu prisoner lurking at the back of one of the cells.

“Sesh-uyeh,” Kaz whispered. But if the man recognized the code word, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Yul-Bayur?” Nothing. The man started shouting at him in Shu, and Kaz hurried away, past the rest of the cells, then slipped out to the landing and charged down to the next level as fast as he could manage. He knew he was being reckless, and selfish, but wasn’t that why they called him Dirtyhands? No job too risky. No deed too low. Dirtyhands would see the rough work done.

He wasn’t sure what was driving him. It was possible Pekka Rollins wasn’t here. It was possible he was dead. But Kaz didn’t believe it. ‘I’d know. Somehow I’d know.’ “Your death belongs to me,” he whispered.

The rows of cells stretched on and on, infinite, impossible. There was no way he would find Rollins in time. But it was only impossible until it wasn’t. Until he sighted that big frame, that florid face through the grate in an iron door. It was only impossible until he was standing in front of Pekka Rollins’ cell.

He was on his side, sleeping. Someone had given him a bad beating. Kaz watched the rise and fall of his chest.

Kaz hung back now, feeling the delicate weight of his lockpicks like an insect cradled in his palm. Wasn’t this what he wanted? To see Pekka brought low, humiliated, miserable, and hopeless, unable to get a hold of his bearings. The best of his crew is already dead on pikes. Maybe this could be enough. Maybe all he needed was to finish him once and for all.

The lock on the door gave up easily to Kaz’s picks.

Pekka’s eyes opened, and he smiled. He hadn’t been sleeping at all.

“Hello, Brekker,” Rollins said. “Come to gloat?”

“Not exactly,” Kaz replied.

He let the door slam shut behind him.

‘Where the hell is Kaz?’ Y/N paced in frustration in front of the incinerator, the dim clang of alarm bells filling her ears, rattling her thoughts. Yellow Protocol? Red Protocol? She couldn’t remember which was which at this point and it drove her mad. Their whole plan had been built around never hearing the sound of an alarm.

Inej had secured a rope to the roof and dropped down a line for them to climb. Y/N had sent the rest up with Jesper and Matthias, along with a pair of shears she’d located in the laundry and a crude grappling hook Jesper fashioned from the metal slats of a washboard. Then she’d cleaned the splatter of rain and moisture from the floor of the refuse room and made sure there were no scraps of rope or other signs of their presence. There was nothing left to do but wait—and struggle to get a hold of herself.

She heard people shouting at each other, and a hail of stomping boots through the ceiling above. Any minute, some intuitive guard might venture down to the basement. If they found Y/N by the incinerator, the route to the roof would be obvious. She’d be damning not only herself but the others as well.

‘Come on, Kaz. I’m waiting for you.’ They all were. Nina had come charging into the room only minutes before, gasping for breath.

“Go!” she cried. “What are you waiting for?”

“You!” Jesper shot back. But when they asked her where Kaz was, Nina’s face had crumpled.

“I hoped he was with you.”

She’d vanished up the rope, grunting with effort as Jesper trailed up behind her, leaving Y/N standing below, frozen with indecision. Had the guards captured Kaz? Was he somewhere in the prison fighting for his life?

‘He’s Kaz Brekker.’ Even if they locked him up, Kaz could escape any cell, any pair of shackles. Y/N could leave the rope for him, and pray the rain and cooling incinerator were enough to keep the bottom of it from burning away. But if she kept standing there, waiting like a child, she’d give away their escape route, and they’d all be doomed. She wouldn’t have the blood of her friends on her hands. She carried enough regret on her shoulder already.

She looked back to the door with a small flicker of hope only to be let down. She groaned in vexation, “Screw you, Kaz Brekker.” She felt her heart clench in her chest at the thought of leaving him behind but shook her head quickly. There was nothing to do but climb.

Y/N grabbed the rope just as Kaz hurtled through the door. His shirt was covered in blood, his dark hair a wild mess.

“Hurry,” he said without preamble.

A thousand questions crowded into Y/N’s head, but she only stopped to ask one. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

She nodded, swung out over the coals, and started to climb. Rain was still falling in a light patter from above, and she felt the rope tremble as Kaz took hold beneath her. When Y/N looked down, she saw Kaz bracing himself to sling the incinerator doors closed behind them.

Y/N put a hand over hand, pulling himself up from knot to knot, her arms beginning to ache, the rope cutting into her palms, bracing her feet against the wall of the incinerator when she needed to. She gritted her teeth, her lips sealed shut, as she continued to pull herself up.

High above, the Elderclock’s alarm bells still clanged like a drawer full of angry pots and pans. What had gone wrong? Why had Kaz and Nna been separated? And how were they going to get out of this?

‘Breathe.’ She sucked a sharp breath in through her gritted teeth and tried to blink the rain from her eyes, muscles bunching in her back as she rose higher.

Y/N grunted when Matthias and Wylan grabbed her shoulders and hauled her up the last few feet. “Thanks.” She tumbled over the lip of the chimney and onto the roof, drenched and trembling like a half-drowned kitten. “Kaz,” she gasped. “Kaz is on the rope.”

Mathias and Wylan seized the rope to pull him up. Y/N wasn’t sure how much Wylan was actually helping, but he was certainly working hard. They dragged Kaz out of the shaft. He flopped onto his back, gulping air. “Where’s Inej?” he panted. “Where’s Nina?”

“Already on the embassy roof,” said Matthias.

Y/N heaved as she pushed herself to her feet and placed a hand on her lower abdomen, rubbing quick circles to release the pressure in her muscles.

“Leave this rope and take the rest,” Kaz said. “Let’s move.”

~*~

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @skittleabyss @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #ellora.writes

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garnetea · 9 months

Text

why do birds suddenly appear...

who husband! nanami kento x fem black! reader. length 2.7k words! warnings all sfw fluff! reader knows some french. picnic anniversary date. love experts yuji and gojo. bakers nobara, yuji and megumi.

leman's letter! he might be a little ooc, i tried! and it's pretty old so i don't have the energy to fix up anything that could be written better ☠️ p.s. the end of the title would be "...every time you are near?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ★

Other than the sweet petrichor sweeping through the May wind, there wasn't a single indication that it had rained a mere few hours ago. The spring sun was nothing to bat an eye at; it's heat was harsh enough to dry away every droplet. As subtle as it was, you loved the scent; the taste of the wind as it rushed through your ajar window made you feel oddly nostalgic. It uplifted you in a way; almost like cleansing away any peccant thoughts vexing you. Contrarily, your husband didn't have the privilege of ever understanding what you adored so much about the spring weather.

"It's.. annoying, dear. Just listen to the birds." Kento commented, an intrusion to your ongoing and aloud rumination. The two of you sat there in the car for a moment, slightly slowing down to hear the delicate blue jays over the intruding wind. Their high pitched and scattered little chirps greeted you happily, and your lips found it necessary to curl up cheerily in response.

"Don't be so stiff, darling." You responded kindly, your brown glossed lips still painted into that heart warming smile. Your small dimples leaving subtle indents on the soft, brown skin of your cheeks. A smile Nanami knew he'd always adore, even if he didn't always understand it. "It's how they communicate, I'm pretty sure. I know they're glad you don't speak 'bird'." You added in a teasing voice, insinuating an insult.

Unexpectedly, Nanami sped back up the pace of the car after you leaned your face back towards the window, and the wind was quick to resume its harsh tantrum. In slight surprise, you snapped your eyes shut and leaned back at the sudden force- blinking repeatedly to make sure you hadn't gotten anything in your eyes. It seemed inevitable that he'd chuckle in response to your dramatic reaction, but of course he also rolled up your window a bit to prevent a reoccurrence. "You don't think they'd want me to speak 'bird'?" Kento responds in a prying tone. It was easier to speak now that he could hear himself over the harsh gusts of wind. "Would I not be a good neighbor?"

You smiled and crossed your legs in the seat, brushing your well manicured hands over the floral lace dress. A dress chosen specifically for this day, May 9th; your anniversary. "What do you think?" You retorted softly, a question to a question. Your eyes flickered from your florid, white clothed lap, to your husbands side eye.

It wasn't the look he gave you when he was incensed or irritated, but the one he owned when his eyes were pondering. Behind those serious, slanted dark eyes was a head full of complex gears. Usually those gears were used for things like work, taxes- you know, things of importance. Yet, what are they doing now? Simply trying to think outside the box, just trying to answer a taunting question. To use more than his logic and reason, and figure out the meaning of your semi joke. Although he was giving it his all.. he was inevitably struggling.

"Well.... I.. don't get it." He admitted honestly, flattening his vision back on the stale, empty road stretching ahead. His expression showed no embarrassment, but you've been married for two years now. You were analytic enough to know when he wasn't calm, cool and collected; simply because his middle finger was slowly tapping the leather wheel. Little fidgets were all you needed to decide when something was bothering him; tapping his foot, bouncing his leg, it was the little things you noticed. As his wife, it was your obligation to, wasn't it?

"I just mean you'd be a lot like... Satoru, if that makes sense." You explained to him briefly, planting your elbow on the stiff door handle. Your vision found more interest in the flowery, green scenery rushing past the Cadillac Eldorado rather than Nanami's displeased expression.

Kento pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, tying back his urge to retort with something offensive. Today wasn't the day to hurt your feelings, it was your anniversary and there were lovely events planned for the afternoon. He didn't plan all of today's activities for a simple joke to ravage it all. "Dear, I'm nothing like Gojo." He rejected plainly, turning down a particularly rocky dirt road. It was directly through a colorful, flower field; green grass and little tips of pink and yellow flowers stretching as far as you could see. By now you'd lost any interest in the current conversation, you wanted to know where exactly you were going. It seems you'd neglected to ask before you left the house, being so caught up in other topics and such.

"Honey, where are we?" You inquired, rolling your window back down now that Kento was driving at a slower pace. Slow enough to open your door and step out really, but you knew Nanami would have a fit. Saying "you could've tripped" or "what if you hit your head?". So, rather than have him worried with a migraine, you simply sat up on your knees and stuck your head out the window. The light breeze soothes the prickling heat of your forehead and cheeks, such a harsh sun in spring it was. Though, it was sweet.. welcoming. Surely better than an ongoing downpour on such a wonderful day, that was for sure.

"Well, it looks like a field, doesn't it?" Nanami responded sarcastically, bringing the small car to a soft halt on the narrow path. You opted to ignore his smart remark with an eye roll, continuing to breathe in the refreshing, warm air. He put the car in park and turned the key, popping the trunk once he'd turned off the engine. Without the low rumbling of the cars motor you were held still on the seat, and you could hear the sounds of nature surrounding you much clearer. The hums of nearby bees and the high, frequent chirps of the neighboring blue jays held your attention all too well, fascinating you like a narrow minded child. Meanwhile, your husband was having quite a time at the back of the car.

Nanami's voice ringing out through the primarily serene expanse is what caught your attention, deciding to step out rather than day dream blindly from the open window. "Could you give me a hand?" He asked gruffly, reliving his annoyance with how much Gojo and Itadori had packed for him. The regret of excitedly mouthing off about his upcoming anniversary was beginning to seep in; he should've known better, dealing with those two.

"Yeah, lemme- Oh wow!" You were more than surprised to see what he was struggling with, such a beautiful assortment of flowers and balloons. An ample bamboo knitted basket with a silk, pink ribbon clinging to the handle. It was closed in, so you weren't sure what was inside, but upon picking it up you were sure it wasn't anything as light as a feather.

"Let me get that." Kento assured quickly before you let it slip, accepting the grand basket from your grasp and handing you the balloon strings instead. They were a cute bunch too, six of them floating overhead to be exact. Cute little hearts, kiss marks and flowers adorned the shiny shapes of the balloons, some being round while others matched that of a heart.

You watched as he balanced the bouquet of white roses and pink peonies atop of the basket, carefully handling them to not damage the dramatic bow wrapping the handle. No, this definitely wasn't anything like your husband; you were beyond positive he had some kind of influence or assistance. More than likely, it was Yuji and Gojo meddling again; similar to last year's eventful celebration. And, although this wasn't all Kento's idea, you still found it sweet that he could put away his stiff and logical disposition for your sake. To set aside his attitudes and etiquette to give you his raw affection and attention was more than enough, that alone would've been enough for an anniversary. So, you can imagine the smile that took over your cheery expression as he lead the way ahead of you to an open spot in the colorful field.

Seeing as his hands were full, you closed the trunk for him and followed his figure to the spacious meadow. "This's beautiful, mon amour!" You complimented, as if he grew the flowers and such himself. "You picked this place yourself? And the bouquet is charming, too, you remembered how I love peonies!"

The tall blond chuckled lightly as he stopped somewhat far into the area, now being surrounded by the dozens of yellow dandelions and wild roses. Kento sat down the large basket gently and accepted the balloons from your hand, your fingers brushing against one another before he wrapped them around the baskets handle. "I found this place a few weeks ago and kept it in mind." He replied, a nonchalant tone poorly concealing his hubris attitude. It was more transparently obvious that he was beyond satisfied with the outcome of his efforts, he'd really outdone himself. "Yes, well the balloons were Gojo's idea, and this," He flipped open the basket's lid as he spoke. "was Yuji's idea."

You gasped in delight at the sight of the silky material pouring from the top of the basket, beginning to mentally put all of the pieces together. It seems they- Gojo, Nanami, and Itadori- had planned an adorable little picnic, and you could only imagine what cute treats were neatly packed away under the white sheet. "Oh my.." You managed to mumble, smoothing down your dress and crouching down as well. "So those two were in on your planning, dear? You'd better have thanked them, these balloons are just too cute." You added with appreciation while fully pulling out the sheet and handing it to Nanami.

He only managed to hum in agreement at your reminder, concealing an eye roll as he stood up properly with the blanket. "Would you mind unloading the snacks?" He requested, stepping away slightly with the sheet. You watched with glee as he pulled it up in the air, fanning it out a few times before lifting it gracefully over the prickly grass.

It was futile to hold back your excited giggles as you rummaged through the basket, pulling out a large container of pretzel salad. The strawberries were neatly caked over the top with whipped cream separating it from the granola base; you could tell from its slight imperfections and cute butterfly tupperware that it was homemade.

Other than this, there were neatly cut sandwiches, rosemary bread, cheesecake, and chocolate covered pretzels all neatly packed away in their respective containers. A few water bottles and a bottle of white wine were tucked away as well, the wine being swaddled in a towel for protection. Surely you'd have leftovers, this was much more than you'd expected. Though nonetheless, your excitement prior to leaving had clouded your sense of hunger- neglecting to acknowledge the growl in the pit of your stomach. Therefore, the sight before you was more than enough to bring the fact to your attention.

"Oh mon.." You mumbled, your french once again making itself known without your realization. And although you paid it no mind, Kento found it more attractive- or maybe simply adorable- than you were aware. You arranged all of the containers neatly in the center of the blanket, having only the basket and your heels laying on standby in the grass."This looks wonderful, how did-," Nanami's hand then slipped down to intertwine with yours; lifting you up softly from the sheet, now standing before his lean figure.

"Y/n," He began softly, his airy tone wafting around your tender heart. Both standing there against the wind; his slanted eyes held so much love and adoration for you. Two lovers, surrounded by hundreds of lovely, delicate flowers to compliment your beauty. What a memory this will be, of such an endearing day.. May ninth. "Two years is nothing compared to how long I'll be with you, yet I still want to celebrate the time that passes. Every day with you is wonderful, even the annoying ones."

You quirked your brow jokingly, entangling your other hand with his as you spoke. "What do you mean annoying? We don't have-," He chuckled gruffly, which is what interrupted your false claim. How could one never have bad days? Though he knew you were kidding, thus decided to not comment on it.

"Moving on," Kento moved a hand from intertwining with yours, cupping your cheek to look up at him. That soft smile, the one he kept in his pocket for days such as this, enlightened his ivory toned and stern front. His co-worker’s didn't get this smile, nor did his friends. No, this one was solely yours, and you knew by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up. By the way his lips curled a bit higher than usual, any higher and surely he'd show his teeth. It was your smile, a smile of love- love only for you. "Happy anniversary.. and may many come after this."

Your cheeks swelled with a tingling sensation of loving praise and adoration, oh how adorable he was when he was flustered. Even after years of knowing each other, he still had you blushing and giggling like a school girl in her first innocent affair. How embarrassing..

But what a lovely feeling it was. To have your love reciprocated by the one you love, the only one you could've been dreaming of. It was sweet.. and fulfilling. A wonderfully assuring feeling, really, and you wanted nothing more but to stay this way forever. "Yes my love, happy anniversary. For now and for always, of course." You agreed lovingly. Your soft yet excited tone of voice gently seeps into his cheeks and tints them a light pink, deepening a few rosy shades as you lean into his embrace. Your arms find comfort around his abdomen, softly pulling him closer as he wraps his arms over your shoulders. "Today is as lovely as waking up to you every morning."

Kento hums softly in acknowledgement, wondering how-- after years of being with you-- could you still bring a flock of butterflies onto the flower bed you've grown out of his stomach. Pulling away to plant a gentle kiss against your brown forehead; a forehead that with time, will grow wrinkled and old akin to his. One day, your hands and his will both be pruned and shriveled. Your hair will lose its ever-lively bounce, and his will fade into grey and white. Nanami can't wait for the day, although it sounds dreary, because he'll know he finally made it. That his seemingly meaningless life had a purpose, and it was to spend time making you happy, as you do for him. To spend time with the one he loves, growing old together and reminiscing on those young, colorful memories. Fragments of time born to be treated like porcelain artifacts. Like today, standing in this adoringly lively field of sweet flowers and clovers, eyes gleaming with clouds of apricot and honeydew romance. Something considered so valuable as of now, yet he couldn't have imagined such for himself merely six years ago.

The wind blows through your elegant, ironed dress as you crouch down to open a container of rosemary bread, looking up at your husband; that soft smile still resting in his typically stern features. "Don't be a statue dear, come eat. You alright?" You inquire, untucking a fork from the zip lock bag of plastic silverware.

Nanami clears his throat at your question, smoothing down his slacks and taking a seat beside you. Your scent is clearer once again, and he almost finds himself dazing off into more sentimental daydreams of your shared future. "I'm alright." He confirms, taking up his own fork and knife before shifting his attention to the pretzel salad. Apparently Gojo's students made it for him (Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara.)

'Sweet kids.'

Another warm feeling pepper kissed the center of his chest, prickling his cheeks next as he popped open the container. Your husband peeked over at your pleased and slightly dramatic disposition as you took a bite of the sweet bread, a little dance taking over your arms as you went in for a second bite.

He chuckles at your child-like reaction, and you can only side eye him in response because of your mouth being full. What a memory this would be years from now, telling and retelling the cute specifics of today. May ninth, the Nanami's sweet, floral anniversary.

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owlespresso · 10 months

Text

pollen, chapter 5

tags: fem!reader, healer!reader, reader has a personality

a/n: thank you for your patience.

Read 1-4 HERE.

“You think she ever gets bored in there?” Ardbert asks, motioning to the Solar’s towering double doors.

“No idea,” you say, returning your attention to the texts laid across the timber table. Dusty tomes in tongues of lands far away have been hastily translated by Sharlayan’s most driven scholars. The good men and women of Saint Coinach’s Find hadn’t spared you a second glance when you slipped inside of G’raha Tia’s abandoned room. It had been just as he left it, hardly packed. Standing there, in the midst of all his belongings—you aren’t proud of how it winded you. How much of a hold a man you’d known for mere weeks had over your emotions.

It would have been a most audacious waste to leave his things to draw dust, given the doubtless countless hours he spent gathering such a sumptuous sum of information. At least a single piece of his collection accompanies you wherever you go, slid into your pockets, in between the folds of your robes, reading material for free moments between missions, opportunities to learn about Allag and the worrisome wonders it so carelessly created.

It’s irritating to know that some of history’s most malevolent empires are also its most successful, but you could co-opt what you gleaned for your own valiant purposes.

“Reading all that, again?” Ardbert regards the streaked ink and crowded margins of your parchment with a raised brow. Weeks ago, you would have mistaken his question for poorly masked derision. Now, it is painfully clear that he questions you out of clear concern, making it markedly difficult to dismiss his query as the petulant pryings of a man who could not see the value of your intellectual pursuits.

“You should give it a rest—I mean, far be it from me to tell you what to do…” He breaks into a stumbling series of desperate clarifications, cheeks flushing pale florid.

“I know,” you reply, giving him a gentle, reassuring grin. “But I’m fine. Really. I know where my own limits lie.”

In the wake of Meteor’s sudden distance, Ardbert seems to have taken it upon himself to take up twice your attention. He intercepts you in the halls with offers to carry your belongings, joins you for meals, and tags along on trips to Mor Dhona’s markets. It’s all well and good, better than the strained relationship you’ve had thus far, but that doesn’t stop the change from feeling awkward. Even he does not seem entirely confident when he asks to accompany you. What exactly does he want? Is he sticking so close out of some sense of gentlemanly obligation? Or is Meteor avoiding him as well, rendering him just as lonely as you?

“Do you?” Ardbert asks, and all of the good will you’ve been willing to extend crumples. “You’ve been working yourself to pieces—pulling all nighters ‘till you can hardly keep your eyes open! You nearly fell into your pudding yesterday.” His hand hovers over the ink-stained pages. Irritation strikes you like a fresh burn, like you’ve touched the still hot stovetop. Your wrists throb, hands curling into fists.

“That’s not true.” you grouse. “Pudding incident aside.”

A moment of silence settles between you. His strong, weathered hands grasp one of yours, thumbs pressing against the sore stretch of your wrist. The sudden sensation sends a shock up your spine and makes your breath hitch, cheeks growing warm. The feeling is shockingly familiar to you now, his touch running up to your palms and back down again. You can’t even bear to look at him, fingers twitching as he presses against your palm.

“I know we don’t much get along. On a good day, but trust me on this.” he murmurs. His brown eyes shine rich amber under the candlelight. The space between his brows wrinkles in concentration.

“You called me a ‘nag’ for telling you to get some rest.” you pointedly remind him.

“That was only once!” he insists. “And I have since learned the error of my ways, thank you.” “You can call me whatever you’d like, but we both know I’m right,” he insists. “I’m not asking you to stop. I’m asking you to rest.”

“Your concern touches me, really… but I cannot stand an idle mind.” You pull away, met by only a meager resistance. You try not to think about the gentle pull of Ardbert’s fingers as you slide your hand free, calluses drifting over your palm and fingers. Ardbert’s already fretful frown furrows further, and you awkwardly ignore his cross expression in favor of study. The chapter detailing the creation of Baphomet is next—and you’re sure that your unique comprehension and experience with other primals could help you unearth something new. Even the most studied of scholars do not have the unique comprehension you possess, a skillset which lends itself to revolutionary breakthroughs which surely supersedes your mortal need for rest and other petty distractions.

“...Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ardbert, I’m not sure if my research would be of much interest—”

“I’m not talking about your research,” Ardbert says. “It’s still troubling you—the Tower, and what happened with G’raha. And that’s alright! We all grieve. That’s just a part—”

“I’m not grieving,” you inform him in a monotone drone, ignoring the sudden tightness of your chest. You’re well-accustomed to losing things—and people. It’s a part of being an adventurer. A part of being a Scion. But it’s only just that—a part, and you cannot let it rule you, lest it rend you to pieces.

It’s become clear that he intends to obstruct your study until he’s been appeased, so you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, the fine upholstery cradling the back of your neck, your aching back. Your rest your head backwards, weary eyes drawing shut as you submit yourself to his lecture.

“The material I’m reviewing could hold vital information that only someone with my experience can understand, That’s why I took it with me.”

“And it just so happened to be in G’raha Tia’s quarters. Right after we were told the rest of the research team would be clearing it out. After you spent a whole bell blubbering about the lad.”

“I was not ‘blubbering’,” you shoot up from your seat, palms slamming onto the table. The teacups clattered noisily against their porcelain dishes, silverware similarly jostled. Any mote of goodwill you have afforded him during this conversation dries up near instantly. You could feel the startled stares of your nearby fellows, unwanted attention making your face hot. The deathly feeling of embarrassment only adds to the agitation which now simmers beneath your skin, the skin you had always believed quite thick. Wordlessly, you began to gather your materials, shuffling files and folders into haphazard stacks—just tidy enough to keep together, cradled to your chest like a barrier.

“Wait,” Ardbert beseeches with a newfound desperation. His lips press into a thin, flat line, expression immediately beset with immense regret. “Wait—I didn’t mean—wait just a moment—!” he stood, hand awkwardly hovering as if to reach for you or your papers. Wisely, he refrains from taking such reckless action.

“I’ve heard enough.” Hopefully, the venom in your voice will be enough to keep him at bay. He’s already testing your insomnia-worn patience, composure slipped between your fingers like salt silted by waves. It hadn’t been his intent to upset you so, but wars and negotiations resolve based on intent and action alone. A single verbal blunder can spell disaster for entire kingdoms and continents. Fortunately, Ardbert’s lone crime is offending you. And the worst he would receive is a temporary reprieve from your presence, which is perhaps more of a boon than anything. “I’ll be in my chambers should you need me.” You push your chair back into the table with your hip. jaw clenching as the legs creak noisily against the tile. A step, then another, before you spare him a last look over your shoulder. “Please, try not to need me.”

---

Mor Dhona has been overtaken by grey, a canopy of clouds shedding water onto the cobblestone streets. Meteor bears the weather with no more than a grimace, paltry pattering of raindrops paling in comparison to the powers of primals and the pain they’ve inflicted. A scar on his left flank, courtesy of Ifrit, aches whenever the weather grows this gloomy. He pays it no heed, head low under the black tilt of his umbrella. The fingers of his other hand drum across his belt as he pursues the market stalls.

The sudden turn in weather has frightened a wide portion of patrons indoors, leaving him blessedly alone in an uncharacteristically quiet market. Not a single shelf is spared his discerning gaze as he searches for an apology gift of acceptable quality. He’s painfully aware of how confused and perturbed you were after his sudden exit and subsequent avoidance of your person. Everytim he dares recall the tower, he is appalled at how easily that ancient concoction seized his inhibitions, how horrendously high it stoked his passions. Had you been a touch more stubborn, insisted on prying answers out of him or worse, treating him, the shot strings holding his decorum in tact could have dissolved, putting you in great danger.

Warrior of Light title notwithstanding, a soft bodied healer would prove little challenge to someone like himself, or Ardbert. At a distance, you could fend them off, but you had been close enough to grab, close enough to press the entirety of his body against you. It would have been child’s play to pin you to the wall, to edge one of his thighs between your legs to settle his hungry mouth into the crook of your neck.

A shout of his name from the opposite side of the market snaps him from that grim line of thought, warmth in his breast doused by a cold wave of something not entirely shameful. Something dark and unbidden had purred at the thought, and that very same presence laughs mockingly in his ears.

“How long are you going to wait?” it hisses. “How long will you deny us?”

And then Ardbert, looking soggy and cross, is standing a film before him, face wrenched into a sullen pout. Rain beats against his pauldrons, droplets rolling down the brown leather. His soaked bangs fall into his forehead. Several awkward moments of silence settle between them. Meteor spends every single one fending off his own dread.

“You’ve got some nerve, you know that!?” Ardbert says. Meteor’s face crumples into a sour scowl. In the wake of the Crystal Tower, you have been granted an extended respite. Meteor assumed you could not personally care less if he was present or not, you had grieving to do (despite your denial) and though he could not claim to know you well, he did know you hated for others to bear witness to your moments of weakness. A staunch perfectionist, unwilling to be seen at anything other than your best.

It’s clear his absence has jarred you, in some way, more than he anticipated. He can think of no other reason for Ardbert’s sullen, storm countenance.

“What’s happened?” he inquires, immediately and urgently. The taut line of Ardbert’s shoulders ease, his relief practically palpable as he elaborates.

“She’s been buried in her books for days now—well, I suppose I should be saying his books.”

“Whose?” Fierce alarm colors his voice, so suddenly it surprises him.

“The Sharlayan lad who shut himself in the Tower. He left all his things behind. Ever since she brought ‘em back, she hasn’t slept a wink—I’m sure of it. Bags under her eyes deep as Syrcus.” Ardbert hurriedly informs him, impassioned testimony flooding out all at once.

“She’s still grieving him,” Meteor says, more a passive observation than an informative statement. You bury yourself in your work on the regular. He can only imagine what you look like now. His lips press into a grim frown. He is well-acquainted with the brutal ache of overwork and he knows it well, better than most, he would dare say. Intensive, impassioned labor was at first a means of survival, then a way to distract from whatever unholy thing has taken up residence inside of him. He cannot hear its incessant whispering if he is worn enough to sleep.

“Have you tried… talking to her?” he asks.

Aerdbert looks personally affronted. “Of course I have!” he insists ardently, voice rising above the sound of the tempestuous weather. The winds have begun to howl, a sudden verticality to the gales that brings the water dangerously close to their spot underneath the tarp. “And more than once! But you know she hates listening to anyone, much less me. She’s a healer, but she’s just as stubborn as you and I.”

Meteor blinks. Stubborn? He’s never known himself to be particularly stubborn. Dedicated, perhaps. Diligent, in both training and on the field. He has half a mind to remind Ardbert of any of the six occasions he can immediately recall in which his brother was the picture of stubborn (his insistence on exploring the Aurum Vale when you were absent on parley to Dragonhead), but he mercifully refrains, beating back the quarrelsome urge.

“Let’s face it,” Ardbert continues, equal parts exasperated and defeated. “She clearly has a favorite, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

There’s nothing Meteor can truly say to that, because it is abundantly and painfully correct.

“Alright,” he relents, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Intervening in the business of others is quite literally in his job description, but he hesitates to meddle in interpersonal affairs. He much prefers the solemn quiet of his steel to the plex customs of the social order. The battlefield is less daunting than diplomatic affairs between different powers, where the smallest upset could spark political incident. Fortunately, a brief conversation with you does not bring with it a risk of war. Most likely.

---

Nighttime settles over Mor Dhona like a widow’s veil, stars blotted out by blackened clouds. Thunder sings low in the distance, Ramug’s song rumbling over rolling hills of stone and steep spires of crystal. You work deep into the night, candlelight slips through the narrow crack of the door, and touches the opposite wall. The rest of the Scions have squirreled away their respective chambers, leaving the Rising Stones settled silent and nearly empty. He spares the remaining night owls polite nods as he passes them in the hall.

He keeps his footsteps loud on purpose, alerting you to in lieu of the thick plate armor he’s abandoned in his room’s cramped closet. He’s come to you in a black button up and dark slacks, boots laced up to his knees. He feels ridiculously exposed without his armor, a rigorous discomfort which prowls his every step. Any shadow could be a knife through the ribs, a beast laying in wait, a Garlean assassin still sore from past defeat. And the shadows are not still. No, their edges writhe when he looks at them too long. His own paranoia stirs his senses to a heat-stroke simmer.

So he pays them no mind. They are tricks of the light, idle playings of an overactive mind. Perhaps its restlessness. Nearly a week has passed since he last drew steel, since he ventured beyond Mor Dhona. An expedition will do him good, he decides, gently nudging open your door.’

The mere sight of you fills him with an inexplicable amount of relief. You’re curled over your desk, but you budge when the hinges creak, eyes gleaming with a recognition that lets him know he is real. His pulse becomes quiet in his ears, the hasty thudding of his heart rendered mere background noise as you speak.

“You’re up late.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says with a small, wry smile. “Can’t sleep?”

“You could say that,” you hum, regarding him with a discerning squint. “...You can come sit, if you want.”

This is his first time inside your private room, he realizes. Crossing the threshold feels like some sort of sacred act. Urging the door closed, even gently, feels like a sin. It’s a terribly cozy space. A bookshelf crammed full hugs the western wall, stacks of tomes left to overflow onto the floor and the coffee table and the dark wood nightstand. The bed looks even cozier. The unmade blankets are half slumped onto the round rug partially placed underneath the frame. Meteor resists the urge to pick it up and fold it. Instead he settles himself on the edge.

“So, what is it?” you turn in your chair, regarding him flatly. You’re dressed in a slip of a robe. The sheer fabric shifts to expose more of our thigh, squished against your crossed leg. The warm candlelight touches your bare skin with a tenderness. Meteor tears his eyes away.

“I… I’m sorry for not being present, and for any inconvenience I may have caused you.” Meteor says, meaning every word. No matter how you feel about him and Ardbert, the bond you share is vital to your success as a team. A sacred commitment forged under Hydaelyn’s all-knowing, all-loving gaze. Not being able to reach him must have made it impossible to decide where you would be going, precious time wasted.

“Inconveniences?” you say with an incredulous scoff. “I suppose we’re behind on planning, but I can handle most of it within the day. If I were to be upset—which I am not—it would be because… I happened to miss your company.” You bite out the words like sour apple seeds, space between your brows wrinkling.

“But you would have.” Meteor prods, unable to stop himself.

“But I didn’t,” you corrected him, stern as can be. “Honestly, I've been too busy with research to really notice who comes and goes.” you inform him with a reluctant mote of sheepishness, clearly disconcerted at admitting your distraction. “But I swear that what I learn from this will aid us all in the future.”

Meteor blinks as you launch into a small lecture. The sluggishness which weighs you like a worrisome spirit lifts as you delve into the unique Allagan perspectives on the primal problem, mentioning methods of containment long forgotten alongside the rest of the empire and its accursed, abominable creations. Never before has he witnessed such passion swell within you, such ardor. There’s a glimmer in your eyes, a glow about you. At that moment. he decides that passion suits you. Even if he will have to ask you to repeat your exposition and explain in further detail numerous times. Preferably at a slower, more comprehensible pace,

“I believe you,” he says, standing to cross the distance between you. Up close, he can see the bags under your eyes, luggage you’ve been saddled with the moment G’raha Tia sealed himself away. He cannot help the bitter pang of resentment which stirs within his breast at the man who so carelessly drove you to this state, sending your brain awry with grief and guilt.

Something deeper, something more shameful hisses in envy, in disbelief that another man has so easily wrested such fervent emotion from you. And in such a short amount of time.

His hand, weighted this time not by glove or gauntlet, lands on your shoulder. Two of his fingers span beyond the neckline of your robe, touching your bare nape. There is a magnetism that comes with touching you. The Echo pulses and resonates, aether reaching out and rushing warm beneath his skin. It’s an outpouring of energy that brings with it a bevy of unusual, varying side effects. For that reason, he and Ardbert have mutually agreed to touch you only when necessary.

Meteor has wandered in the past if it affects you as much as it does them. A shiver pulls down your spine, betraying your otherwise cool countenance. It's absurd, how such little contact can evoke so much, but it is relieving to know he is not alone. His thumb twitches, before he rolls soothing circles over that patch of bare skin, attempting to settle some of the tension which pulls your shoulders taut.

“You should get some rest,” he urges quietly, voice low, eyelids dipping as he nudges against the ambient pulse of your aether.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you mutter, and for the first time, before he can help himself, Meteor scoffs at you. It’s a haughty, amused little sound that has you whirling to face him with hackles raised. The satisfaction he sows from your reaction is obscenely childish, but he quickly smothers the worst of himself, straightening his lips and schooling his expression into one of stern concern.

“Trying to make sure you’re prepared for what tomorrow brings,” Meteor supplies. “Our next mission is in Gridania. The moogles of the Shroud have summoned a primal.”

“I don’t recall them worshiping any gods.” Even when exhausted, you remain quick on the uptake.

“Exactly,” he replies, providing no further context. The details will wait until the morrow. You don’t need anymore information knocking around inside your head while you try to sleep. He swallows, wishing for a reply, a retort, but you are hesitant. And the silence that settles seeds the ground for the insidious voice to sow.

How simple it would be to lift you by the nape, to manhandle you onto the mattress, to press upon you all that you have made him feel. It’s repulsive, it's disgusting—the very concept of so violently breaking your trust makes his guts churn, makes his cock hard as stone. He feels frigid at his edges, a bitter cold wreathing around his outermost extremities as something tries to claw to the surface. He shuts his eyes tight and breathes evenly, wills down the wolf even as his head splits.

The legs of your chair squeal as you push out from your desk, sending him scampering back to avoid a stubbed toe. The contact is broken. His fingers twitch and his palms prickle, an aching chasm opening within his chest. A sense of emptiness lingers in your wake.

And you’re wearing a strange face as you regard him. Not fraught with fear, but with suspicion. He has somehow made you curious, which is perhaps the most frightening outcome of all. He is no G’raha Tia. He cannot spar with you intellectually, and he cannot bear to be the next fervent focus you dedicate yourself to.

Rather than launching into a barrage of questions, you simply nod. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

“You win, I’ll get some rest. But I’ll have questions for you in the morning.” Meteor nods and gives you a gentle goodnight, hastily hastening from your quarters with the poorly disguised dread of a man rusting to the restroom before he sicks all over the rug.

He leaves for Gridania early the next morning, while you are still in bed and Ardbert is struggling to get out of his.

#ffxiv/reader #ffxiv x reader #ardbert/reader #ardbert x reader #ffxiv fic #imagine ffxiv #pollen tag

26 notes · View notes

touyaz · 3 years

Text

i do not know if i should hold you or eat you.

pairing bakugou katsuki x fem reader

word count 5,343

notes this is part of my 100 followers celebration but that was so long ago it’s a little embarrassing :)

WARNINGS smut, oral (f rec), fingering, vag sex, hurt/comfort, soft sex, mentions of blood. no pronouns for reader.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

By the time you arrive at the scene, the fight is over and done with. Villains are being detained in the standard restraints — bloody and limping and thoroughly defeated — and the heroes who fought them look worse for wear but are thankfully all in one piece. Your eyes are darting from the rubble of several destroyed houses to the office buildings lit up in a precarious orange, all for one man in particular.

There isn't time to dawdle, however, so you help where you can, rushing to the closest civilians and carrying them out and assisting with some heavy lifting to stabilise the carnage.

You're shouldering an elderly lady who had been knocked back by a blast, hobbling your way to the nearest ambulance together, when you finally catch a glimpse of Katsuki.

His quietude is unsettling.

There have been days when he's softer, warmer, his voice less raspy and demanding, and more lulling, calm and matured. You cherish those days for softening the edges around his eyes, for lifting a weight off of his back, for granting his tired soul another hour or two of rest.

There are also days when his arms shake and his body crumbles beneath the responsibilities piled atop them. It's difficult to love those days when they bring out a side to Katsuki he hates unravelling. It's hard to see his fists clench with barely-contained ire, to spot the tears he forces away as quickly as they had come, to watch his body vibrate and tremble and nearly give out when his mind repeats to himself that he's useless, that he does more harm than good, that he's too weak to be what he's aspired to be for so long: a hero.

It's a twisted, complicated path to recovery. Especially when Katsuki is buried beneath self-doubt, unwanting of any help lest he be an even bigger burden.

(Your voice always comes to him in those times when he's lost in his head, soothing and tender, untangling the vines that tear him apart, reminding him that he's not a burden — not to you, not to those that care for him — that he deserves goodness, that he is capable of doing everything he wants because of how determined and persistent he is. But the mind is a fickle thing. His head is a minefield just waiting for the day he missteps.)

And there are days when you lose the trail or he rushes down the wrong route impatiently. But loving someone — loving him — has never been a straightforward path. It's full of rocky roads and turning back, losing your footing and staying steady with the other's arm.

Each time you navigate the winding roads, you learn which corners to be wary of, where to stop and take a break and enjoy the scenery, where to let him rest on your shoulder, and where to hold him by the hand and push through the thickets and thorns until you come to revel in the sun that shines on you, triumphant.

The way his eyes are fixed on his hands — florid from overusing his quirk, greyed from wading through debris — and the way he doesn't push away the medics from tending to the wounds on his face tells you all you need to know about his state. He's disassociating, losing himself in his own mind, running down the wrong tracks in hopes of finding safety, finding comfort, finding you.

You do what you can to help clear up the situation, keeping a mindful eye on Katsuki the whole time, before you can finally approach him.

(Duty first, though your gut wrenches with every look over your shoulder.)

A soft hand on his shoulder and he stands. He drags his feet as he walks, and every so often you stop to keep him by your side when he starts to fall behind.

You open the door for him when you reach your car and he's silent as he enters. He's idly holding onto the seat belt, gripping the metal buckle with enough force to bend it out of shape, so you ease it out of his clutch, locking it into its place.

"Katsuki," you murmur, tentatively resting your hand on his. "Do you want to talk about it?"

His throat bobs as he swallows. He looks down at your hands. A wordless understanding; you slot your fingers beside his, the car starts with a rumble, and he jumps through thorns to find his way back to you.

Head in his hands, he sits where you left him on the sofa. Dust and dirt flicker off of him and you add wiping the sofas clean to your mental to-do list. When the seat dips with your weight, he sits up to listen to you.

You start with his mask. The ends are singed and tattered, orange threads barely holding it together until it falls apart in your hands. Next is the neck brace (and you thank the universe that the crack is in the costume and not your lover), then his gauntlets, scuffed and scratched, followed by his gloves and knee guards.

"Dinner or shower?"

He looks down at his hands, caked in blood and grime, calloused with the havoc he causes, and clenches his fists.

You reel him back down to you with a hand atop his, easing his fist open finger by nimble finger, until the dirt and destruction is hidden beneath your hand, nothing but a side thought to the way you so easily twine your hands with his. It's silent, but it speaks volumes of how his hands have done good.

These hands that blast through buildings like they're made of paper also get to hold yours.

He won't think about how he's dirtying your skin with his misery, with his faults; he doesn't get the chance to when you lace your hand with his and pull him to stand.

In the bathroom, you take his clothes off first. His belt is unwrapped with the utmost care, put to the side so the remaining grenades don't blow up, and next to go is his top. The cold air bites at his chest, stinging the small cuts with its vicious, wispy touch, like little pinpricks of agony scattered across the planes of his skin, ever present to ingrain into him how broken he is; a walking wound, good for nothing but tearing into flesh, bathing in the running red, drowning in the devastation.

His trousers fall, too, exposing the way his skin, tender and golden, is now bruised and ugly, purple and black blots telling tales of losses and woe. His knees tremble with the weight of him and his burdens, and you shouldn't be there, but you are — you always are — to catch him before he falls, to let him slump into your body, to hold him up when his legs grow numb and he feels nothing but misery.

He doesn't hate being so vulnerable when you look at him like that.

When you see not a monster, not someone that sets aflame everything he touches, but a man, a boy, just Katsuki, your Katsuki; a monster undone by the tip of your fingers, by the brush of your lips.

He is a nightmare, a novel of angst and hurt with no happy ending, but he is gentle as he undresses you. Treating you like his most treasured jewel as he peels apart your layers with those pernicious fingers of his, ever so meticulous — too mindful, too cautious when he doesn't need to be, not with you — so as to not taint you with his bloody horror.

But still, his hands linger on the curve of your waist, imprinting his dirty fingers into the unmarred skin of your body, bruising you till you mirror him. He's too selfish to pull away. Too monstrous.

He wants to see you scar under the barbed wire of his palms; he wants to sink his teeth into your flesh and lick away your blood, let it smear across his mouth, dark red on white pearls, as he devours you whole, as he feasts on your virtue, that sweet goodness you serve him when you shouldn't.

Sinking his filthy claws into you feels almost religious when he aches beyond belief for just a drop of your marrow, for your heart in him.

He's washed from your body under the rivulets of the showerhead. Murky grey fused with crumbs of torn buildings and tinges of red pool beneath your feet until that, too, disappears down the drain.

He grabs the loofah from where it hangs and lets it fall to the ground. You use your bare hands on him instead. Cedar wood soap slathered over his skin, fingertips tracing the divots and dips of his body, across the bulk of his muscles, through the fine blond hairs until he's forgotten what iron smells like, the smell of a cruel victory slowly replaced by the hints of squeezed mandarin that soak into his body.

The body wash is so very him. With that citrus freshness cutting through the burnt, woodsy musk, it’s a breath of renewed air that gives him hope. He's quick to douse your body in his smell, almost rubbing your skin raw with how determined he is to drown you in him. Up, up, up the length of your arms and then meandering down the expanse of your body, around your hips to the back of your knees. He's thorough, as always, only ceasing his ventures when he's certain not a centimeter of your skin has been left untouched.

Then he savours the way your hands weave through his hair, nails gently dragging across his scalp, clearing out the debris knotted in the tangles. He passes you your bottle of shampoo — a wondrous blend of lavender and stardust — that you massage into the strands before he copies you. Brushing foam away from your forehead. Getting suds on your waist when he pulls you closer.

You close your eyes and he follows, immersing the both of you in water, letting it cleanse your bodies, your souls, following the sounds of the stream running back to you. His forever destination.

Dinner is serene. A memory-muscle routine of you moving left so he can reach the sink, him ducking his head so you can open a cupboard. There's no television playing when you eat, just the sounds of ice clinking in a glass, just the smell of paprika and chili in the air, just the feel of his pinky wrapped around yours.

And when you take him to bed, it's to the sound of a yawn muffled into his elbow, a sigh as he sinks into the mattress, the crinkle of bed sheets as he turns to face you. Half-lidded eyes and tired fingers travel over you until you place your hand on his cheek and he stills, waiting.

His lashes fan across the high-rise of his cheekbones. Your breath warms the sharp slope of his nose before your lips smooth the crease between his brows.

"I'm here for you," you remind him, and his grip on your waist tightens. A pact.

Another kiss, to the tip of his nose. "Always." A promise.

(He thinks of that line, 'When is a monster not a monster?'

When he's in your arms he isn't one — or, rather, he is still one, that feeling never leaves him, but you don't seem to care about that. You see his stained teeth and his deadly hands and you love him regardless; you curl your hands around his molten ones, and you kiss him until your mouth is bloody, too.

You see this broken man, this torn-apart beast, and you hold his face in the palm of your hands as if he's built the world from ashes all for you. As if he means something to you. He would burn it all down and do it again if you asked.)

A final kiss, lips feather-light against his, not hesitant, not wary, just gentle, delicate. Enjoying the feel of his skin on yours like the calm after a storm, like an artist's brush stroke on a canvas. "I love you." A vow.

(And the answer, 'Oh, when you love it.')

When he drifts off, it's with his head buried in the crook of your neck, drowning in a field of lavender.

Morning light spills like liquid gold through the gap in the curtains. Dust floats in the air, the birds chirp a joyous melody and your lover wraps his arms more tightly around you.

Like gentle waves rocking a boat side-to-side, his head rises and falls with your breaths. Your fingers smooth his hair, wild from tossing and turning throughout the night, gradually trailing away to trace the curve of his ear, down the scar on his neck and then back up, again and again and again.

His quietude would be unsettling if you didn’t know any better.

You can feel the way his jaw moves beneath the pad of your finger, trying to form the words he can’t quite voice yet. He huffs, an angry little puff of air, and you almost laugh at the way his brows furrow at his own ineptitude.

“Sleep well?” you ask, easing his suffering if only by a little, and it irons out the little crease that had formed.

“Yeah, you?”

You hum and the silence returns. The motions continue.

Another huff, slightly more aggravated this time, but before you can speak he’s moving, leaning on both forearms above you before shuffling down the bed.

“Katsuki?”

His hands are at the edge of your trousers, playing with the fraying thread that spirals around your waist until you lift the blanket.

Brushing back the locks of hair that curtain across his forehead, you still when he burrows his head in the plush of your stomach.

He can feel your warmth everywhere, peaking at the tip of his nose and spreading like wildfire across his face when he buries himself in your body, wanting, needing, craving to be enveloped in your heat.

He wants to tunnel his way through your flesh. He wants to sculpt a home between your lungs with the bones of your rib. He wants to immerse himself within you so wholly, so deeply, that you can’t breathe without him there, that losing him is akin to losing a limb, that losing him is like a gunshot to the heart — you’re bleeding out and he’s the only person that can nurse you back to health.

No — anyone could heal you, but he wants you to want him, only him, only ever him.

(He never wants to see you hurt.

He wants to know what your blood tastes like in his mouth. He needs to know if it’s just as sweet as the rest of you.

He hopes you never realise how needy he truly is.)

His lips won’t stop — can’t stop — caressing every inch of your skin, speaking the words he fails to every time he tries. He scatters thank you’s all across your sternum, moulds your stomach to the slant of his I love you’s, travels back upwards to engrave his name on your left side, right where your heart shines through your skin. He can feel your heart race each time he plants another kiss on you. He can see the way you arch your body into his mouth and it sets his body alight with pride, with ecstasy, giving him a high like no other drug could ever hope to.

It’s easy nudging his fingers beneath the flimsy fabric of your trousers and pulling it down. It’s even easier dipping his head down the apex of your thighs, where you part for his hungry mouth soundlessly, like you know just what he’s aching for without him even having to ask.

When he closes his eyes and sinks into the crease between your sex and your leg, when he burrows his nose into your skin and inhales deeply, he can smell the faintest hint of mandarin still lingering in the cleft. There’s a sheen of sweat on your skin, but he’s all too quick to replace it with his saliva, all too happy to flick his tongue into the dips of your body and taste you.

Tracing the line of your pussy with the tip of his tongue, he grazes your clit with his nose and uses one hand to spread your folds apart. He can see the glint of your arousal calling out to him — a lighthouse in the dark and he’s an unfledged sailor, a frail moth to your kindling flame — and he’s swift in answering. He bathes in your ambrosia, delving into your warm pussy with his tongue, swilling every drop of your honey like he’s a starving bear just awakening from hibernation. He flicks from side-to-side, listening intently to the way the sheets rustle as you squirm, focusing on the keen in your voice as you moan his name, revelling in the way your fingers weave through his hair and tug, pulling him in even further.

(If he can’t find out just how sweet your blood is, he’ll drink himself to death buried between your thighs.)

“Oh, God— Katsu,” you sigh. Your hips raise off the bed, and he holds you down. He keeps you in place and feasts on your bare body. There you lie, served on a silver platter, pretty and pliant and perfect for him to gorge himself on. As long as you let him, he’ll take and take and take. He’ll slide his fingers beside his tongue and take handfuls of your meal until he’s sick from overeating and there’s nothing left of you but crumbs. “Right there— fuck, please.”

How can he stop indulging himself when you sound so rich, so saccharine, all for his ears only? He doesn’t want to stop crooking his fingers against your velveteen walls when you call his name so dulcetly right after. He doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to — not with the taut grip you have on his head, nor with the way you hold him against you and rock your sex into his drooling mouth.

He pulls back for mere seconds to breathe and then he dips his head to latch onto that precious bundle of nerves. He envelopes the bud as it pulses with a desire for his touch, laving over it with sloppy flicks of his tongue as you stutter his name, as you tremble in his hold and your legs squirm around his head.

There’s no stopping the way your thighs pillow his head. He’s much too busy curling his fingers and drawing out your essence, savouring the feel of your plush thighs against his ears. He won’t move them. He’ll let you use his body how you wish. If you want to suffocate him like this, then so be it. It’s a boost to his ego, too, he selfishly realises, the way he can still hear your cries, your honeyed little r-right there, Katsuki, and your exquisite oh, god, I‘m gonna— I‘m gonna cum.

He’s ceaseless in his ministrations, rolling your sweet, little pearl in his mouth, working over it with a graze of his teeth to make you shudder beneath him.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs. He parts for the briefest moment, licking a broad stripe along your slit before sucking your clit back into his mouth. His fingers prod at your silken walls restlessly, ghosting over those soft, spongy spots until your thighs tense around him, until your pelvis digs into the mattress as you careen up into the lust-heavy air.

He admires the way you jolt upwards, heels digging into the corded muscles in his back as he holds you firm against his face, letting you writhe under his mouth, under the constant tongue lashing, under the twists and curls of his fingers. He wishes he could see the way your eyes roll back or the way your mouth gapes to let out those chiming, bell-like cries of his name.

“That’s it— fuck, that’s it, baby,” he encourages, slowly bringing you down to settle into the bed, eyeing the arousal that trickles out of you in a slow stream, begging for his tongue to lap it all away.

He’s never been too good at controlling himself around you. He knows it, you know it; he knows you know it. It’s why neither of you are surprised when he dips his head back down to savour you some more, mouthing at your slick folds, working his tongue back into your fluttering sex to drink your essence right from the ever-giving source. He’s humming at the sweetness that suffuses every groove in his mouth, holding your hips down as you flounder beneath him.

“Katsu— Katsuki, I can’t,” you insist, a whiny, breathless little whimper that immerses itself into every single one of his veins, thrumming around the trenches in his body until it’s all he can hear, all he helplessly chases after. He’s lost in the bliss, rounding corners, stumbling over his own feet like a drunkard, until he reaches you, until you brush back his hair and guide him away to breathe.

His exhales fall in short, stuttered huffs as he stares at you.

(Beautiful, he thinks.

Your hair is a mess from your squirming. Your lips are bitten raw from the times you held back your moans — stupid, stupid, don’t hurt yourself when he wants to hear you, when he wants to ingrain your voice until not even his brain rotting away could make him forget the sweet lilt of your sounds. Your eyes are on him, just him, just Katsuki, your Katsuki.

You’ve never looked more captivating.

His eyes sting with a burning need to blink, but he can’t tear his gaze away from you for a moment. For the split second it would take him, his world would be drenched in darkness, he would miss the way your chest rises and falls, he would give you a chance to look away from him.

He’ll never say it — he’ll try, but the words will cling to the sides of his throat, desperately trying to crawl their way back down to safety — but there’s little he craves besides your eyes on him, besides your hand in his unlovable hand, besides you staying by his side until the day he dies.

Not even death can tear you apart, he thinks. He wants to die first, so he doesn’t have to go a single day without you. He wants to be buried in your arms. Let the maggots feast on him to their heart’s content, he just wants you to be with him.

He wonders how you can make ruination look so divine.)

His movements are always fluid, always seamless in achieving their purpose. So when his hands traverse the length of your body, you settle back into the mattress, eyes falling closed to bask in the kisses he plants along the way. His mouth tickles as he trails up. A bite to the skin of your stomach, a tender kiss to the curve of your breast before his lips slant over yours.

Your body is hot beneath his — clammy, despite the early hour, and all he can do is add to the mess as he drags a hand along your arm. His hands, sandpaper against yours, wrought with callouses, thickened down to the bone, seek out your own. It’s natural how his fingers fit between yours; it’s unnatural how your fingers curl around his and squeeze.

“Katsuki—”

“I know,” he says, screwing his eyes shut. He focuses on you. On the way your lashes fan across his eyelids, on the soft exhales that he breathes in, on your legs tightening around him. “I know.”

(The nature of his quirk means he runs hotter than the average person. It’s a hassle when he sleeps, overheating beneath a blanket, waking in a pool of his own sweat.

When he moved out, he started sleeping in just his boxers.

But he only grew comfortable with sleeping so exposed when he could feel your skin on his. Your body a barrier between him and those dastardly sheets. He doesn’t feel so vulnerable when you’re sprawled out on top of him, when you’re tucking himself in your arms, in your ribcage, so he can fall asleep to your heartbeat drumming in his ears.

He hates seeing your body shine with his sweat in the morning. He wants to wash his grime off of your body. And you, sweaty, nasty, perfect you, just wrap his arms around you more tightly.)

He shifts his boxers down, just enough to slip his cock out. He’s impatient — always has been, he thinks he always will be, especially when it comes to having more of you, having you like this — but he's ever so careful.

“Are you��”

“Please.”

It’s a small, tinny whine that he drinks in, that he drains from you until your throat goes raw from pouring out sweeter, richer sounds just for him.

Just as his fingers had twined with yours, his hips now slot between your thighs. There’s a simmering burn at the stretch of him, one that makes your breath stutter, and he’s there, he’s always there, to soothe you, to act as — no, to be, to embody — your balm, as you are for him.

He pulls out slowly only to return back home; he finds his footing and makes his way through the forest to safety — to you. There’s a soft, wet pap that punctuates each of his thrusts. There’s a sigh that floats in the little space between your lips and his. There’s the feel of your softness flush against his, smoothing out his hard lines and sharper edges until he’s moulded to your liking.

Red lines run down the thick of his back, scratching through the surface of his body. He’s damaged, littered with more bumps and cuts than a pretty boy — your words, not his, never his — like him should have, but he doesn’t mind when you’re the reason he’s marked up. He’ll hide his battle wounds, he’ll deny he was ever susceptible to anyone but you; he’ll only be at your mercy, he’ll only wear your scars with pride.

“God, Katsuki,” you sigh, letting go of his hands and his heart aches until they come up to cup his face. He’s about to drag your hands back down, lace his fingers with yours so hard they go numb and you forget they were ever yours, but then you brush the tender area beneath his eyes. He can feel wetness smear across his skin. His brows furrow and he blinks his eyes open, wondering how long it will take for you to look less blurry to him. “Baby?”

“Yeah?” It’s more choked up than he’d like, but clearing his throat and repeating doesn’t smoothe the hoarse timbre of his voice.

“I love you,” you say, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, a soft brush of your lips against his.

“Yeah. Yeah, I love—” and this time he can feel the tear drip from his eye to yours, he can feel the gravel churn deep in his throat, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut again, dropping his forehead to yours “—love you too.”

You hold him there. One hand cradles the back of his head, the other flattens across his upper back. You hold him there as he’s overwrought with sobs, as his entire body trembles with the force of his cries, as tears and snot and all his filth seeps into your body, you hold him there, right against your body.

“Thank you,” he pushes out through the grit in his mouth, digging one hand into the plush of your waist until you’re close to bleeding beneath him. “Thank— fuck— thank you, thank you.”

He doesn’t know if you can understand him, he hopes you can decipher the garbled mess of words gushing out of him, the ‘thank you, fuck, I love you, fucking love you, need you so fucking bad’.

He’s never been a man of words, though, and he tells you what he can’t through his actions. His hand finds its way to your clit, circling it to the melody of your moans, and his hips hammer into you, not much quicker, but so much deeper. Even through the haze, his precision is immaculate.

(Nothing but the best for you. He’ll be whatever that entails. It’s the least you deserve.)

It isn’t much longer that your thighs tense around him, that your gut tightens and that coil in your stomach winds to the precipice of snapping.

“Please,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck.

(Only you can make him beg for something. He’d only drop to his knees to raise you higher; he’d only let you step on his back until it breaks — and then, he’d let you walk all over his broken spine until your footprints are carved into each disc, until the shards of him are embedded in your body.)

“Cum for me. Please.”

A strangled cry of his name escapes you. His teeth sink into your flesh. The coil in you fractures into two halves.

He empties inside you just as you moan his name, delighting in the flutter of your walls around his cock. Hot ropes of white spill into you as he keeps drawing those shapeless figures on your sensitive bud.

His breathing slows as he basks in your overwhelming scent. Yesterday’s lavender and pine are washed away and all he can smell on you is his own sweat.

(He doesn’t hate the saltiness when it’s seeping into your pores, when it’s shining across your skin, making you radiate beneath him.)

The glassiness in his eyes gives way and a smile tugs at the edges of his lips when he sees the circle of his teeth indented in the junction of your shoulder. He can feel your chest every other beat, skimming against his as you steady your heaving breaths. He almost purrs at the way your hands, with the gentlest pressure — like he’s made of glass, like he’s been marked fragile and you actually care — massage his nape, drifting to his upper shoulders before returning.

“Katsuki?” you call, murmuring a hasty sorry when you rub over a scratch and he winces. “You okay?”

Yeah, he wants to say. I’m more than okay. I’m fucking perfect.

He has a bad habit of ruining everything — with his hands, with his mouth, with his very presence — so he settles for silence, resorts to breathing in that saltiness and sinking into your body. Maybe if he stays still enough, you’ll accept him as a part of you. Maybe if he burrows his face further into those dents he made, he, too, could sink into your flesh. Maybe if you keep rubbing his back and he keeps holding your body against his, everything will be alright.

(Katsuki knows that it’ll take more than that for everything to be okay. Life is too tumultuous, too unpredictable, for him to truly believe that this moment of reprieve will stay like this for much longer. No matter how much he prays, he knows his sanctuary can be snatched from his grasp — no matter how deep he sinks his claws into you, he knows he’s too weak to keep you there, with him, forever.

When he lies in your arms, knitting himself into each strand of your dna, bleeding his everything into your open wounds, so full of your love he can’t take any more (though he wants and wants and wants until he bursts), he thinks that maybe, really and truly, everything will be okay.

If not for the world, then just for you. He can wither away with the rest of the universe, if it means you’ll be alright.

Maybe that isn’t very heroic of him, but he doesn’t want to be a saviour for anybody else. He just wants to be yours.)

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bakugou scenarios #bakugou katsuki scenarios #mine #mine.bnha #bathing as an act of intimacy #leave the lights on

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kvreba · 4 years

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○ i don’t want this picture, but i’ll frame it anyway!

〔bede x fem!reader || you’re champion.〕

Upon stepping into Ballonlea, a pair of Hatterem sashayed around your ankles before capering into the mystifying tangle behind you. “Have fun, you two,” you whispered to yourself, incapable of suppressing your thrill.

Kids and Pokemon alike greeted you amiably—of course, some elders teasing you about how the champion decided to grace them with her presence—and you reciprocated them before heading inside the stadium.

“It’s [name],” you called out, questioning whether the person you wanted to see was around or not. The lobby was fairly vacant, a few challengers hanging around as they gathered their grit. That feeling pooling from them never ceased to send a frisson of exhilaration down your spine, even if it had already been a few months since you became champion.

You made eye-contact with one of the guards (or so you assumed, those sunglasses are way too dark), who gesticulated with their shoulder that someone was emerging from the hallway.

And to your joy, it was exactly who you were hoping to catch. “[name]?”

Bede’s voice, brimming with austerity, rang in your ears. “Bede! I’m so happy to see you,” you exclaimed sincerely, lips curving into an equally brilliant smile.

Out of habit, Bede’s fingers fretted with his uniform collar as a burst of warmth danced between his ribs. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have that modelling shoot in Wyndon?” Bede squinted his eyes.

“I did, yes,” you clarified, smoothly flipping your backpack on one shoulder to rifle through the contents, “I wanted to give you a rare league card. The photo won’t be published or anything.”

“Are you daft? I have challengers to attend to, I can’t be squandering time looking at pictures—” However, Bede’s sentence was interjected as you promptly thrust the photo into his hands without accepting rejection as an answer.

And to make matters worse, you looked absolutely gorgeous. Well, Bede only peeked at it for a short moment anyway.

A shy chortle emitted from your mouth, earning you Bede’s utmost attention again. You were the only one who could simultaneously have his full fixation and be the reason he can’t think straight.

“You can throw it away, or give it to Ms. Opal if you’d prefer; I’m chuffed you seen it at all,” you admitted, albeit that tincture of hesitation leaking into your tone was telltale that you were indeed secretly afraid of deplore. “W-Well, I better leave you to it! I’ll be in town for a bit, so if your schedule gets freed, let’s catch up...!”

After that quick exchange, you hurried yourself out of the stadium. Bede could hear the lingering challengers whisper senselessly among themselves about missing an opportunity to ask the champion for advice or encouragement.

What good would that do? If your inordinate strength could be mimicked, then you wouldn’t be champion. That’s what Bede thought and believed, regardless.

Naturally, however, Bede’s eyes ogled the photo tucked between his slender fingers. And he truly couldn’t stave off the white-hot sensation permeating through his cheeks at the image.

The dress adorning your figure complimented your skin immaculately and the make-up dolling your features magnified your already adorable appearance. But that smile of yours was the most striking; so pure and untainted. So straightforward.

Bede pressed the back of his knuckles against his lips, praying that the pressure would ameliorate this blush. This stupid, stupid blush.

Yet his eyes were entirely riveted onto you, peering at every silly detail as if he needed to fill up before his pride bewitched him to throw it away. Bede was trapped in that stupor enough to not notice Opal towering over him from behind.

Not until her brittle and haughty voice cheered, “My, isn’t [name] looking a bit more grown-up? She’s much more pink, too!”

It took everything in Bede not to relinquish a startled noise unbefitting of him. Why in god’s name did she have to sneak up on him all the time? Coughing, Bede nonchalantly pocketed the picture. “I would hope she’s been growing. Galar’s future would be dour otherwise,” he played her comments off.

“And you’re just going to pretend your cheeks aren’t pink too?” Opal probed harder, scrutinizing how Bede’s complexion went downright florid. “You haven’t matured in that aspect at all. You need to be more honest.”

“Honest about what? I don’t understand what you mean,” Bede continued putting forth a mellow veneer as he said that. Even Opal noticed the nuance in his attitude there, since before his wording would’ve been more curt and unmannerly.

Opal’s hands folded over themselves, and she drawled, “You knew exactly what I meant by what I said, you’re just trying to brush it off and avoid admitting you agree.”

A cheeky huff came from Bede as he vacillated briefly whether to give in or not; and the most potent argument to confess was being barricaded with extra quizzes and tests today if he didn’t.

Bede heaved a sigh, finding another cluster of heat singe his nerves, before hastily saying, “Alright, fine. [name] looks… p-pretty. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready!”

Laughter drenched in merriment followed Bede’s figure as it bustled through the hallway. When he made it back to his corridor, he made a beeline for the garbage bin. The photo of you was suspended over it, his fingers accumulating sweat as he steeled his nerves to rid himself of this embarrassment.

…

Yet it still somehow ended up back in his pocket for safekeeping. And if you listen closely to the fairy-type pokemon in Ballonlea, they’ll tell you about ‘Bede’s good luck charm’.

#bede #bede pokemon #pokemon x reader #x reader #pokemon #my writing #all the pokemon in ballonlea conspire against bede sometimes since they adore him

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 5 years

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Wed 4 Sept 2/2

The Face magazine, which hasn't published since 2004, is back with a bang! Sound familiar? You may be thinking of this June, when Harry wore a hoodie with their logo on it. The announcement dropped this morning that Harry would be one of four cover models for their return issue and they dropped a couple (more on that later) pics with the announcement. The announcement included a quote from the piece: "What’s feminine and what’s masculine … it’s like there are no lines any more" (on the subject of fashion apparently, but the context-less presentation of it as their lead quote is something indeed.) The gorgeous pictures were taken by Collier Schorr, a respected and interesting queer visual artist who you may remember Harry following in early August. The magazine will be out Fri (??!??!! Yes as in the day after tomorrow, they want to kill us) and is available for order now. More snippets from inside quickly followed: we're told it will feature "fan fiction levels of adoration from Stevie Nicks, Elton John and Alessandro Michele;" predictions? I'm thinking A/B/O from Elton, something angsty and open ended from Stevie, probably a PWP from Allessandro? They previewed a quote about how many pairs of shoes he owns, including "a pair of pink metallic Saint Laurent boots that he has never been photographed wearing," but wears to "get milk." NONSENSE said the fandom and immediately dug up a picture of them posted to Glenne's ig in 2015; but to be fair, it is taken in a store so maybe they were buying milk. The cover picture, a black and white close up, had an artists signature drawn in as a neck tat (do NOT get ideas Harry I beg you): HS and CS sharing an S (for Harry and Collier), and BQE [for Brooklyn Queens Expressway referring to the shoot location], 19, and 'the way.' About location, this looks to be the shoot that was teased by Harry Lambert and Molly Hawkins in July in New York, with the water, and seems to include the pics he took in Brooklyn in late June (last sighting of the mustard flares, lost but not forgotten RIP.) Looks like what people hoped was eyeliner was actually incompletely washed off mascara (not Stevie Nicks' fault this time.) Anyway they quickly went from teasing close up shots of Harry's hands to just dropping the whole ass photoshoot on us and then on top of that someone, unidentified and mysterious, dropped like a million outtakes. Just photos everywhere I don't even know. I can't summarize all these! I counted like 25 and that's probably low! But they're really good you guys like... Really good. Some highlights- his face, these are so incredibly expressive, pics in a tracksuit that make it seem like those articles about him looking like Louis yesterday were dropped a little early, a t shirt that just says TRUTH on it, the retro movie star vibe, the sweetness. They're great. As for the interview, I guess we'll find out Fri: it's by Trey Taylor and the bits we've seen so far feature florid prose worthy of a romance novel so you know, it should be interesting.

Anyway then someone on twitter who hates me posted a very short snippet of what might be an unreleased 1D song from 2014 and if you think I have time for this! They claim there is no more, just that random few seconds, if this develops into more I'll let y'all know but otherwise GOOD DAY SIR I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOU.

Niall and Liam mostly stood aside and let all this play out, but Liam updated his playlist and Niall tweeted, "J’adore la mer." Uh good to know I guess ok thanks. It has been noted that he tweeted something obscure about waves a while back as well...

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imakemywings · 7 years

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Girls Can’t Resist a Firefighter

Summary: It is a well-known truth of Fire House #3 that no girl can resist a firefighter. Local EMT Iryna Chernenko would like to prove this wrong, but unfortunately for her, one of those cocky firefighters is Elizabeta Hedervary.

Pairings: HunUkr (main), MonaBel (side), RusAme (side), TurkFra (side)

Cast:

Firefighters:

Sadik Adnan (Turkey)

Mathias Anderson (Denmark)

Elizabeta Hedervary (Hungary)

Yong Soo Im (South Korea)

Alfred Jones (America)

EMTs:

Iryna Chernenko (Ukraine)

Angelique Hoareau (Seychelles)

Emma Peeters (Belgium)

Matthew Williams (Canada)

Others:

Anna "Anya" Braginskaya (fem!Russia)

Margot Redoux (Monaco)

AO3 | FF.net

“She’s gonna go weak at the knees! She’s gonna be like ‘woah you’re so cool!’! Maybe she’ll even swoon, whatever that is!”

“In your dreams,” Yong Soo scoffed with a grin as he went on polishing the rig, a loose curl bouncing with the vigor of his movements.

“Alfred’s right,” Elizabeta broke in, jumping down from the cab, suspenders hanging loose around her waist. She flexed her arms, making her biceps bulge impressively against her black cotton t-shirt. “No girl can resist a firefighter!”

It was the right time for a group of local EMTs, who often worked in conjunction with Fire House #3 to walk by the garage on their lunch break.

“Ooh, very impressive, Miss Héderváry!” called Ms. Peeters with a smirk at Elizabeta.

“Thanks hun!” Elizabeta returned the smirk two-fold. Ms. Chernenko, a stout woman of Ukrainian origin, looked positively florid. Ms. Peeters elbowed her and said something the firefighters were too far away to hear.

“Iryna says she thinks you look top notch!” Ms. Peeters hollered at Elizabeta, while Ms. Chernenko tried to strangle her with her own shirt from behind.

“It’s all good!” Elizabeta replied, grinning ear-to-ear. “No one could blame you.”

“You know how Emma likes to tease,” Ms. Chernenko finally spoke, waving her hand and hurrying her step.

Ms. Peeters and Elizabeta exchanged another series of grins and faces before the EMTs passed on.

“So have you actually asked her out, or are you crossing that bridge when you get to it?” Sadik asked Alfred from where he was doing inventory on the rig.

“Uh…”

“Wait, wait, we’re having this whole conversation and you haven’t even asked her yet?” Yong Soo demanded. Alfred gave them a sheepish look and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sure she’ll say yes!”

“I’ve seen Anya. If she doesn’t say yes, she’ll break your neck,” Elizabeta said. “Watch your step, Alfie, or you’re gonna get squashed.”

“I’m okay with that,” Alfred said, with that hopelessly optimistic look that earned him comparisons to puppies and Labradors.

“I think the more important question we’ve got right now is where we’re going to lunch,” Sadik said, tapping his pencil against the clipboard.

“I agree!” Yong Soo jumped in at once.

“Do the three of you ever think about anything besides food?” Elizabeta grabbed a rag to help Alfred polish.

“Yeah, sometimes I think about Star Trek,” Alfred said. Elizabeta gave him a dry look and then they both laughed.

***

The thing about being a firefighter was that hardly anyone fell into the position. Probably one in a hundred of those kids who came into kindergarten with their proud plans to become a firefighter actually went ahead with it—and those were the members of Fire Station #3. So they could all sit around and share their stories of glorifying the local fire department as children and they all had a little spark of pride in their chest for becoming at least a part of the person their child-self had pictured.

Comparatively, Elizabeta did not suspect very many children dreamed of being EMTs. All the glory was in rushing into a burning apartment building and carrying out a mother of three like a sack of very valuable potatoes while your peers doused the roaring flames in a lake’s worth of water, the force of that almost as dangerous as the fire.

But when Elizabeta swung the woman down onto the grass, she knew her rescue would have been worth shit without Ms. Chernenko and the other EMTs to haul her onto a stretcher and rush her to the waiting ambulance. It blared off, red beacons demanding deference, and the rest of that family bundled into a cab, too shaky to drive, to meet their loved one at the hospital.

“She’ll be alright,” Ms. Hoareau assured the husband, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “They’ll just want to make sure her lungs weren’t damaged and keep an eye on her, but there’s no need to worry.”

Watching them at work is like watching a machine, and it is only on the field that Ms. Chernenko’s leadership of the team becomes apparent. It was as if she became a wholly different person, Elizabeta thought. Gone was the diffidence, the gentle smiles, the willingness to take a backseat in whatever was going on—it was as though she had entered a battlefield as the only commander capable of rescuing the fight. The terrible orange light of the fire illuminated her face, throwing into relief the commanding glint in her eyes. Her usually loose blonde hair is jerked back with an array of bobby pins

Liz was pretty sure she’d have followed Ms. Chernenko into battle. She was certainly doing quite the job directing other residents of the small apartment complex while trying to handle minor injuries and smoke inhalation out of the back of their ambulance. Only the woman who had been rushed off seemed to need immediate medical attention, having been at the epicenter of the fire’s outbreak.

I should say something to her, Elizabeta thought when the blaze had been tamed and Alfred and Yong Soo were seeing to the last of the embers while Sadik checked the perimeter. But as she tried to make her way over to the ambulances, Ms. Chernenko loaded into one, calling a few last directions to the remaining EMTs before driving off.

“Had some directions for her?” Mathias called down from the rig, one hand on his walkie-talkie.

“Nah,” Elizabeta replied, her voice trailing off. “Just something to tell her…”

***

Alfred had proposed to meet Elizabeta at the mall for lunch and the latest action film out—Atomic Blonde.

“I read the comic, it’s really good,” he said as they plowed through fries and burgers, Alfred slurping on a shake out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah?” Elizabeta’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. “I thought you hated reading.”

“I do, but comics are different,” he said. “Easier. Plus the fonts are better for me.” Elizabeta nodded. Alfred’s dyslexia earned him a free pass to never navigate without a GPS in the rig. Between that and his glasses, his chances of accurately reading road signs were abysmal.

“Okay, that’s fair. Another question: why now of all times to ask me to hang out outside of work?”

“We’ve hung out before!” Alfred protested.

“As part of a group,” Elizabeta pointed out. “A work group.” Alfred sighed and stirred his milkshake with a French fry.

“Fine.” The word was drawn out in a borderline whine. “I needed to talk to you about something.”

“About what?” Elizabeta peeled a stray bit of tomato off her plate and swallowed it.

“Anya.”

“You came to me for girl trouble?” Elizabeta asked. “I’m flattered!” She put a hand on her chest. “Allow me to bestow upon you the greatest of advice. What’s your issue?” Alfred continued to play with his food rather than answer for a moment.

“Well…you know Anya comes from a conservative family…” he began, and Elizabeta straightened up a little. This already sounded more serious than she’d anticipated (which, frankly, had been something like “She doesn’t like Star Wars” or “I snorted milk in front of her and now I can never talk to her again”). “And I think it weirds her out a little that I’m…y’know.”

“What? That you’re trans?” Elizabeta demanded loudly, making Alfred wince slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Did it ever bother her before?” Elizabeta asked, lowering her hands from her food.

“No, but that was before I wanted to date her.”

“Alfred, you’ve wanted to date Anya from the moment you saw her, even if you didn’t know it,” Elizabeta said. “I could tell as soon as you started talking about her.”

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Alfred allowed. “It was before I asked her to date me.”

“Did she say something?”

“No, but…”

“What’d she do?”

“She didn’t do anything,” Alfred huffed, shoving the ice cream-loaded French fry into his mouth. “I just…I get a vibe, you know? I can tell. I can’t tell when people aren’t sympatico with it.”

“Listen, just because she grew up with a conservative family doesn’t excuse her being an asshole,” Elizabeta asserted.

“I’m not trying to excuse anything, Liz, jeepers,” Alfred said. “I just. I don’t know. I feel weird that she feels weird.”

“Have you asked her about it?”

“No. I mean, I think she’ll come around.”

“You didn’t want to bring it up,” Elizabeta said flatly.

“No, but I also think she’ll come around,” Alfred said. “I think she just needs to get used to the idea.”

“So what kind of advice are you looking for here, exactly?” Elizabeta asked. “Because I’m not really the expert in this field.” Alfred groaned and put his forehead down on his lunch tray.

“I don’t know. Some magical girl-mojo to make everything go smooth?” Elizabeta laughed.

“Alfred, no relationship in the world is like that.” Alfred let out another hearty groan and Elizabeta softened. “Listen, if you think she needs time, give her time. But talk to her about it, okay? Don’t let it be an elephant in the room. It’s not something you should feel embarrassed talking about anyway.”

“It’s not!” Alfred protested, turning his face to be heard more clearly. “At least, not like this. But now it’s like…”

“It’s different with someone you’re dating,” Elizabeta guessed, toying with the knife on her plate. “But if you really want things to work with her, you’ve got to be open. That goes both ways, too. She needs to be honest with you. If she’s not comfortable with this, she needs to say so now, not string you along until she gets the guts to leave.”

Alfred sighed with a smile. “If there’s anything Anya has plenty of, it’s guts. I’m sure she’d have said no if she didn’t want to go out with me.”

“See? That’s a good sign then,” Elizabeta said, trying to sound encouraging. Being an only child raised by a single father, she wasn’t really awash in sisterly advice, but she was also the only woman in the station, so if Alfred had to pick a work friend, she saw why he’d chosen her. “Then she probably wants to make it work too, so talk to her and tell her to stop being weird.”

“I will!” Alfred said up, no doubt heartened by Elizabeta’s magical girl advice.

“Good, then we can—ow!” In the course of using her knife as a plaything, Elizabeta’s hand had slipped and cut open her thumb. “Damn.”

“Oh, hang on!” Alfred dug around in his Marvel-patterned backpack until he dug out a first aid kit, and forked over a band-aid of the proper size from it. Elizabeta stared.

“Since when are you Mr. Safety?” she asked. Alfred’s cheeks warmed and he ducked his head, bangs falling over his forehead.

“It wasn’t my idea, it was Mattie’s,” he said. “Ever since that incident at the university he’s been on my ass about taking more precautions.”

“And that means carrying around a bunch of band-aids?” Elizabeta asked, though she didn’t object as she wrapped one around the pad of her thumb.

“It’s actually pretty cool,” Alfred said, opening the kit wider. “It’s got gauze, band-aids, instructions for heat stroke, sprains, hypothermia, sanitized wipes, tiny scissors…”

“Does he have one of these?” Elizabeta asked.

“Probably like, five,” Alfred snorted. “He’s like a mom, always got something in his fanny pack that you might need.”

“Is it weird working with your brother?” Elizabeta asked, scrunching up the band-aid refuse. Alfred shrugged.

“Not really. I mean, we only see each other in passing. It’s kind of nice, actually,” he said with a smile. “We worried a lot after the divorce and the custody thing that we’d be split up, so it’s nice that we get to live close together even though we’re all moved out now.”

Elizabeta nodded. Sibling relationships were somewhat beyond her, never having had one, let alone the symbiotic relationship of twins.

“That’s cool,” was all she could really say.

“Are you done? We wanna get good seats for the movie,” Alfred said as he stowed his first aid kit.

“Yeah, let’s roll.” They got up, stuffed down the last of their fries, and went off to watch Charlize Theron kick some super spy ass.

***

“How was your date night last night?” Iryna asked as Emma flipped through a magazine. The morning was slow for them today, and they were parked in a Denny’s lot waiting for a call. Angelique was in the back taking inventory for the fiftieth time that week.

“Oh, it was magnificent,” Emma said brightly, looking up from her magazine. She was always glad to talk about her wife. “I took Margot to the ballet, and I kept it a surprise, so when I told her to dress up nice, I think she thought we were just going out to eat,” she said.

“Oh! Was she very surprised?” Iryna asked.

“Yeah,” Emma said with a grin. “When we pulled up to the theater she looked about as surprised as I’ve ever seen her! It was great. She loved it, we saw Don Quixote and I think she was on Cloud Nine. She loves fancy stuff like that, but it’s hard to surprise her with my pay.”

“What is it she does again?”

“You know, I’m not even sure,” Emma said with a slight frown. “Some kind of business transactions…she’s always been a bit vague about it. But it wouldn’t matter, her family’s filthy rich anyway, and she’s the only child, so it all goes to her. Plus, her parents spoiled her rotten.”

“Hm. I hope she doesn’t expect you to do the same,” Iryna said.

“Oh, she does. And I do, for my part,” Emma said with a nonchalant shrug and a crooked smile. “She’s my princess.”

“That’s so sweet.” Iryna couldn’t stop the tiny smile from spreading across her face, but it was accompanied by a deep pang in her chest, a pull in her heart. Emma’s eyes shone with a soft, warm light whenever she spoke of Margot, and while love had never been a core goal of Iryna’s (her life simply had not allowed it), she found more and more that her thoughts drifted towards it. Now, with a stable job and her two younger siblings out on her own, she found herself wondering what it would be like for someone to look at her that way, to speak of her with such tenderness and affection even in her absence.

Emma was flipping through her phone, and Iryna’s mind was plunged into the abyss of the unhappily single, and she thought of Ms. Héderváry, and what her face looked like when she spoke of someone she loved. She was such an animated woman, Iryna had to assume she was just as much so when she talked of those dear to her.

“Here! I have a picture,” Emma said, holding her phone out so Iryna could admire the picture of Emma and Margot dressed to the nines.

“Oh, you’re both so lovely!” Iryna cried. Margot was indeed beautiful, and Iryna could see how Emma had been taken in, although she didn’t think she could have ever dealt with the Monacan woman’s diva-esque attitude. She needed someone more reliable, warmer…

Emma sighed contentedly and sat back in her seat. They fell back into silence, Iryna flipping through their safety manual for a review, until Emma spoke again. “So what about you, Ira? When are you going to get yourself a girl?”

“When it’s the right time,” Iryna replied placidly without looking up. It took an unfair amount of effort not to imagine taking Ms. Héderváry out on a night on the town—or even better, a cozy night in, with tea, and movies, and Elizabeta’s strong shoulders…

“Ms. Héderváry is currently single,” Emma said with poorly-feigned casualness.

“So you have told me,” Iryna said, looking over at her companion, who threw her hands up.

“I’m just saying—” Before Emma could defend herself further, the radio buzzed and Iryna called to Angelique that they were heading out—duty called.

***

It was after two A.M. by the time they finished their last call, and everyone was falling asleep standing up.

“I can’t believe no one was more hurt,” Angelique said, covering a yawn. Most victims had been treated at the scene; only an elderly man had needed to be sent to the hospital, accompanied by Emma and a few other medics.

“It was good teamwork,” Elizabeta replied, feebly holding her hand up for a high-five only to realize that Alfred had gone over to sit on the ground and was currently huddled under a shock blanket, falling asleep against Matthew, who was equally dozy. Yong Soo took a few steps to save her from being left hanging.

“Agreed,” Iryna said, her voice still sharp despite the weight of her eyelids. “This is what a job well done looks like. I’m proud of you all.”

“Then the whole day was worth it,” Sadik piped up, flashing a tired, but still cheeky, smile at Ms. Chernenko.

“I am far too tired for any backtalk from you, Mr. Adnan,” she replied, shaking her head. One of her hair clips popped loose and was only saved from oblivion by a hasty, luck-fueled catch by Elizabeta, who seemed to surprise herself when she opened her hand and the flower-shaped clip was there in her palm.

“Your flower, my lady,” Elizabeta teased, dropping into an exaggerated bow and holding the clip out. Iryna’s already warm cheeks flushed in the darkness and she took the hair piece back.

“Thank you, Ms. Héderváry,” she said, fumbling to pin it back in her hair and let someone else take the spotlight as soon as possible.

“Here, let me help,” Elizabeta offered, reaching out to fix the clip. She was a good two and a half inches shorter, not putting her in a very good position for fixing Iryna’s hair, but she went at it anyway. This close, Iryna could smell the sweat and smoke on Elizabeta, though she was sure she smelled much the same. There remained a thin cover of sweat over Elizabeta’s throat, and Iryna’s heart beat so loud she hoped it drowned out the mental impulses telling her to press her lips against Ms. Héderváry’s neck.

“Hello, anyone home?”

“Huh?” Iryna jumped, and everyone was staring, particularly Ms. Héderváry, who was very much done putting her clip back in place. Tired snickers and a bark of laughter from Mr. Im, who, even in his exhausted state, retained more energy than the rest of them put together.

“She was just distracted by my muscles, it’s fine,” Elizabeta said, posing albeit with less enthusiasm than usual, given her level of exhaustion. Through the unbuttoned front of her coat, Iryna could see the muscles in her chest tense and flex. When she again failed to response, Elizabeta laughed. “See! I told you.”

“Women can’t resist a firefighter,” Sadik agreed, slapping Yong Soo’s shoulder. “But you’ll have to do your flirting later, we need to get this rig back to the station.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know how much you hate late calls, Sadik,” Mr. Im said. “God, you’re such an old man! What time do you go to bed, five?”

“I think it’s less about being old, and more about the piece of French ass waiting at home,” Alfred said, stumbling over to join them, glasses hanging from one hand.

“Don’t be more jealous than you can help, Alfred,” Sadik said, a bit of a warning about the terms with which Alfred referred to his husband.

“Don’t be crass, Al,” Matthew chided in addition, rubbing an eye as he followed after his twin.

“Don’t rub your eyes if there’s soot in them, Matthew,” Angelique warned as he approached. “You’ll scratch your cornea.”

“Just tired,” Matthew yawned. “Are we heading out?”

“Yes, let’s get home,” Iryna agreed, stretching. “Some of us ‘old people’ actually need sleep to function.” Yong Soo flashed a peace sign but obviously stifled a yawn in the middle of it. Everyone separated to get ready to go, but as Iryna was getting in the back of the ambulance, someone caught her arm.

“Hey, listen, I just wanted to make sure I haven’t…crossed a line or anything.” It was Elizabeta. “I’m just teasing, you know, so if I make you uncomfortable or anything, please tell me.” Iryna just blinked, too tired to deal with a confrontation she hadn’t anticipated in the slightest.

“No, not at all,” she said. “You haven’t bothered me.” Aside from being more correct than Iryna was sure she wanted her to be. Elizabeta let out a quiet huff of relief.

“Cool, I just wanted to be sure,” she said. “You were just pretty quiet back there so I wanted to check.”

“Just tired,” Iryna assured her with a fitting smile. “Sorry if I worried you.” Elizabeta just smiled in response, realizing she was too tired to be having an actual conversation, and that she was holding Ms. Chernenko up from getting some sleep.

“Great then, see you later,” she said, waving as she headed back towards the rig. Iryna waved back, realizing after she shut the doors to the ambulance that she hadn’t actually said goodbye, and then figuring anything forgotten at this time of day after their workload would be forgiven.

Sleep now, overanalyzing her relationship and interactions with Elizabeta Héderváry later.

***

It had become tradition for Fire House #3 to throw a Christmas party—it was a good chance for everyone to celebrate the successes of the year, mourn the failures, and make goals for the coming year. As he had for the last three years, Alfred volunteered to host, despite the fact that he lived in a small apartment unsuitable for large groups of people by even the laxest of safety standards. Thus, as had happened last year, Mathias offered his house as a location, while Alfred did most of the host work.

Elizabeta loved the party as a chance to relax and bond with coworkers as well as to flaunt the Hungarian alcohol she received on a bi-yearly basis from one of her friends back in Budapest. She wore a simple red dress with white accents, and Alfred was full of his usual compliments as he accepted her alcohol to put with the rest on a table he’d dragged into Mathias’ living room.

“Hey, Liz!” he said, taking her aside once he’d put the bottles down. “I took your advice—and it worked! Anya’s gonna come tonight, you can meet her!”

“That’s great, Alfie!” Elizabeta smiled and slapped his arm genially. “See? You’re doing great.”

Alfred vanished into the kitchen as Elizabeta mingled in the living room, seeking out Sadik to rehash how he had lost the annual soccer match earlier that year. It was a story that six months of time had not lessened her enthusiasm for, having been a member of the winning team.

Coworkers and their family members continued to trickle in; when Alfred’s girlfriend arrived she was unmistakable, towering several inches over everyone else in the room with a head of silvery blonde hair. Elizabeta considered seeking her out, but she was too busy talking with Ms. Hoareau about the pitfalls of recent fashion trends, and it would have been a trial to try to make her way over there. In just a moment, Alfred was excitedly introducing her to Yong Soo anyway.

The party lasted hours, as usual. Elizabeta had the chance to briefly speak with Anya—Alfred hovering around both of them, waiting to see their opinions of each other—before she had vanished over in the direction of the booze table. She’d lost a game of Mario Kart to Angelique and Yong Soo, and had then retreated to the dining room where there were plates of sweet things laid out en masse. As she made her way through her…third? Third drink?— chatting with Ms. Peeters—realized she hadn’t seen Iryna in quite a while.

“Hey, where’d Iryna get off to?” she asked, looking around. Emma glanced around as well and then frowned. They had carpooled to the party, and she remembered Iryna attempting to make some half-hearted excuse for not coming. Had she said her goodbyes and slipped out while Emma was busy talking?

“Good question,” she said, swallowing the last of her cookie (she hadn’t bothered keeping track of how many of those she’d had) and getting to her feet. “I’ll go have a look for her.” She found Iryna tucked into a corner of the living room, with a glass of something clear that was probably not water. “Hey! What are you doing out here?” she asked, finding no place to take a seat.

“Preparing for battle,” she replied in a tone so low it sounded more like she was talking to herself. She looked up at Emma with a smile. “Sometimes I like just sitting and listening to everyone talk. It’s nice to see them all getting along, and it gives me a break from conversation.”

“Ms. Héderváry is wondering where you are,” Emma said.

“She is?” Emma nodded.

“I think she’s a bit disappointed, she thinks you might have left,” Emma said.

“She’s disappointed?” Again, Emma nodded.

“How many of those have you had?” she asked, nodding towards the drink. Iryna’s eyes glanced up at the ceiling, doing some calculations.

“I don’t remember. Six?” She waved a hand. “Not so many. Where’s Ms. Héderváry now?”

“Still in the dining room, I think,” Emma said, as Iryna threw back the rest of her drink and got to her feet. “Where are you going?”

“To find her,” Iryna replied simply, handing Emma her glass, and picking her way through the crowd towards the dining room. She leaned against the doorframe and for a moment, watched Elizabeta browsing the snack options. Her long, warm brown hair was pulled back in a bun and Iryna could see she’d put on light make-up for the event, emphasizing the lovely shape of her eyes—green, bordering on hazel (though Iryna hadn’t had nearly enough time to study them to her content). “Ms. Héderváry!” she called. Elizabeta looked up, with a face Iryna could gladly imagine waking up to.

“There you are!” Elizabeta said, abandoning the trays of cookies and crackers to approach. “Emma and I wondered where you’d gone.”

“Just having a little drink,” Iryna said with a tiny, inscrutable smile. “I have something to tell you, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Above them dangled one of many little green mistletoes that Alfred had positioned throughout the house (Iryna swore she’d seen Matthew pull one down when he realized he was standing under it).

“Yeah,” she replied, copying Elizabeta’s upfront tone. She reached out, took hold of Elizabeta’s shoulders, fingers cool against the other woman’s warm skin, and pulled her in for a kiss that left nothing of Iryna’s feelings to the imagination. When she pulled back, she let go and smoothed the front of her dress, as composed as could be, aside from the florid shade of her cheeks (though truthfully speaking, at least a portion of that could easily be attributed to the drink).

“Oh,” was Elizabeta’s insightful reply, mouth still agape. She blinked several times and then tried again. “So I was right, huh?” Iryna pursed her lips.

“Yes, annoyingly so.” Elizabeta grinned.

“That’s great news!” she said, her eyes shining earnestly. “You should’ve told me!” Iryna avoided her eyes and folded her hands in front of her.

“I was trying to tell if you were teasing, or serious with those things you said,” she replied.

“Oh. I was teasing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not…that I wouldn’t be interested,” she said, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly.

“You would be?” Iryna failed to disguise her surprise.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, a little smile twitching on her lips. “You’re pretty cool, Ms. Chernenko. Anyone would be lucky to have you interested!”

“Well then, perhaps you will come meet me at Les Amis on Saturday?” Iryna figured this was the time to forge ahead; here was her chance, and she wasn’t about to let it slip by. Her tone was as firm and self-assured as Elizabeta had ever heard it off the field. “Maybe three o’clock?” Elizabeta’s small smile grew into another grin, and Iryna’s heart fluttered, banging itself excitedly against her ribcage.

“Yeah, I will,” she agreed, finding herself briefly captivated by the ice blue of Iryna’s eyes. “I’ll see you then.”

“Good talking with you,” Iryna said, nodding and turning back into the crowd before her knees completely turned to jelly. A date with Elizabeta Héderváry! The new year was already looking favorable for one Iryna Chernenko.

#aph yuri #hunukr #hws hungary #hws ukraine #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hws belgium #hws america #rusame #monabel #rocky writes #yes les amis is a cafe/bakery run by francis and a shoutout to les mis and the abc cafe #no i don't actually know anything about either of these professions but that is probably apparent

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