#i was a minor which means i should be allowed to get away with it fully /j /j /j

[pantherloid]

Thanks for being here :)

Even tho I kinda FELL OFF in the last two years.

Feeling weirdly sentimental that this blog’s now half a decade old hooray. This was my first art blog that I started when I was in my mid teens. I shoulda fucking waited longer to improve before posting art bc my art was BAD and my characters looked weird but some of you were still very encouraging anyway. <33

I appreciate everyone being here and I especially appreciate those of you who’ve been here since the earlier years (no clue if any of those people are still here or not and im talking to the air) I hope you like my content shift and will forgive me for being extremely cringe in the past – not in the harmless way, I mean in the psychic damage way.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant interview at the British LGBT Awards, June 2024 (x)

Int: You being an ally to the community isn't something new. You've been doing it, but recently you've obviously really stepped up for trans and non-binary people in a time that's so, so needed. What made you do that?

David: I don't know that I feel like I've done anything that I wouldn't just sort of be normally doing. I mean, it's for me it's just common sense that there's there should be any suggestion that people aren't allowed to live the life they want to live and and to be who they want to be with and to express themselves wholeheartedly. I mean, as long as you aren't hurting anybody else, everybody else just needs to fucking butt out. I don't really understand why...

Int: ...it's controversial.

David: Yeah, there is and the thing... the thing, if there's something that's particularly sobering and depressing, it's that certain debates are being weaponized by certain elements of the political class, often for no... it seems it's not ideological so much as opportunistic. And I just think that's pretty disgusting, really.

Int: I couldn't agree more. What message would you like to send out to trans youth?

David: Please don't feel like you're not loved and that you're not accepted and that you're not... you know, most people in the world are good and kind and just want you to be able to be who you are. Most people in the world don't really care. I mean... you know what I mean?

Int: We're all narcissistic.

David: Exactly. Everyone's so self obsessed that really, the sort of noise that comes from a certain area of the press and of the political class is... it's a minority. It really is. And please don't let that make you feel diminished or dissuaded or discouraged, because, you know, you just... you have to be allowed to be yourself, and you are, and you are yourself and you must thrive and flourish, and we're all here for it.

Int: Amazing. I think, yeah, it's so important .I think sometimes it feels like there's so many people, but it is a minority. It's such a minority.

David: It's a tiny bunch of little whinging fuckers that are on the wrong side of history and they'll all go away soon.

Int: Like what happened with gay people 20 years ago.

David: When I was a kid, when I was a kid, exactly. You know, I was at school when Clause 28 came in and it all felt like being gay was something to be terrified of. And gay men in particular were demonised as paedophiles and now that just feels historic and ludicrous and, I mean, I don't see all those... all those battles aren't won, but we're in a very, very different place. And I feel like.I feel like history is on a progressive trajectory and it might get knocked sideways now and again by people for all sorts of reasons, which are often quite selfish and quite, as I say, not coming from a place of any sort of genuine belief system, but other than a place of opportunism. And that's something that we... I hope that in 20 years time, we're talking about, you know, these culture wars as something of the past.

Int: I believe we will. I'm a huge Doctor Who fan, so.

David: Oh, good, me too!

Int: You are my Doctor.

David: Oh, thank you very much.

Int: But recently, obviously, you came back for the 60th anniversary and you got to work with Yasmin Finney.

David: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Int: What was it like working with her?

David: Oh, she's brilliant. She's fantastic. Yeah. And she's in the show again now, she's back in it, so that's fantastic to see. She's lovely, talented, cool as a cucumber, articulate, brilliant. I learned a lot from her as an actor and also as someone who, you know, who's become a sort of de facto activist just because of who she is and where she is, and she becomes a sort of symbol of hope, and she's wonderful.

[belovedmusings]

Am I Playing All Right Now?

Kento Nanami x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Kento Nanami has been your respectful, loving boyfriend for two months now. All you’ve done so far is kiss, and you want more with him. He refuses for your sake, warning of his roughness. So, you take matters into your own hands and convince him to put in ‘just the tip’. 

Relevant tags: just the tip challenge, dom! Kento Nanami, clothed sex, couch sex, clit slapping, brief use of leather belt, hard and rough sex, doggy-style, hair pulling, manhandling, big dick-Nanami <3, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, creampie, I don't use "y/n" for immersion

Music recommended while reading: Dollhouse (The Weekend, Lily Rose Depp, …baby one more time (The Marias), Like U (Rosenfeld)

A/N: this is filthy and I love it, my first Nanami piece <3 enjoy!! (Read on Ao3 if you prefer!)

Read below cut:

The night had gone great. You two had a fantastic dinner at a fine restaurant, and now you’re at his house, getting hot and heavy on the couch. You’re sat in his lap, straddling his waist, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs as the fabric gives to accommodate him between your legs. Your hands are running over the muscles of his chest, only the thin layer of his dress shirt between your touch and his skin. His palms are on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that you can feel the blunt heat of his hard cock beneath the confines of his slacks. 

You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins–tonight is the night. Every time you two get close to having sex, he pulls away, saying he isn’t ready, but right now it feels so different, so electric–

He hums, punctuating the kiss and pulling back, giving you room to breathe. Your stomach sinks, no, this isn’t what you want, you want–

“We should stop here for the night,” He murmurs, and you look into his eyes, a frown tugging your lips down at their corners. 

“But you’re hard,” You protest, “Kento, please…we’ve waited long enough, and you clearly want this…”

His jaw tightens as he takes a breath. “I do…but we can’t.”

Now you’re just confused. “...can’t?”

He sighs heavily, giving you no explanation, but nodding. “Now, let’s m–”

“No, hold on,” You interrupt him, “Kento, tell me why? I-is it me? Do you…not want…?”

“It’s definitely not you,” He dispels quickly, “It’s me, okay?”

“What about you?” You press, searching his eyes. “Is it…are you…worried about your performance?”

That gets him to widen his eyes a fraction in surprise. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s…alright, look, it’s…it’s that I don’t want to hurt you.”

It isn’t enough of an answer for you. “And…what do you mean by that?”

“You…you know me to be this nice, gentlemanly man, don’t you?” He asks, a sort of resigned weight to his eyes. “Which, I am. But not when it comes to sex.”

The wheels turn in your head. “So…you’re…?”

“I’m rough,” He finally states, “And it’s…it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m afraid to hurt you or scare you away. Of course I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but…you just seem so sweet and–”

“Woah,” You stop him in the middle of his sentence. “Do you think you’re the only one with duality? You don’t think I can be different in bed? Do you think I’m some porcelain doll you’ll break if you’re not careful?”

He considers this for a moment before sighing. “You don’t understand.”

“So then make me understand,” You challenge him, running your hands up his chest. “Please, Kento. I can take it.”

“No,” He denies, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Seeing his hesitance, you decide to switch tactics. You reach for his hands on your waist, taking his wrists and raising his palms up to the front of your dress. You guide them to rest over your breasts, allowing him to touch them through the thin cloth. You’d decided not to wear a bra for the night since the article had thin straps, and he immediately can feel that, a flash of desire flitting within his eyes.

Riding the wave of his interest, you tell him, “I want you bad, Kento.”

He inhales forcefully, allowing himself to knead the soft flesh beneath his hands. His thumbs graze over your hardening nipples, your teeth dragging over your bottom lip instinctively. To drive your point home, you grind down on him, the only thing on beneath your dress being the panties you’d hoped he’d see when you had put them on earlier in the day.

“You’re playing dangerous,” He warns, voice thin and strained. 

“Maybe I want dangerous.”

He finally lets out a groan, surging forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. It’s more forceful this time, and all you can do is give complete control to him. 

He flips your positions so smoothly, you hardly feel it; you just suddenly feel your back hit the cushion of his couch, a gasp pushed from your mouth. His hands make quick work sliding up your dress, fingers hooking underneath your waistband.

Kento speaks against your mouth lowly. “Lace?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Expensive?”

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, no, not r–”

A swift, harsh tug and the sound of fabric ripping later, he holds the scrap lace in his hand, now mangled and unusable. He just tore them clean off.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, now suddenly aware of how bare you are beneath your dress. He must become aware of that fact too, because without a moment to spare, he’s pushing the article up to your waist, exposing you to his eyes. A rosy flush spreads over the bridge of your nose as he looks at your naked lower half unabashedly, a type of hunger you have never seen before nor known he was capable of in his eyes.

He tosses your ruined panties to the floor and fiddles with his belt, undoing the buckle. Your gaze follows his movements, watching his hands expertly tug the leather strap from its loops in his pants.

Then, he surprises you by holding the edge without the buckle and running it along your inner thigh. You shiver, observing him and wondering what his next move will be. He runs it all the way up, reaching the apex of your leg and placing it right over your mound. The cool leather feels unfamiliar there.

“Can I?”

Your attention is pulled to his voice, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he means. Then it dawns on you.

Oh.

No one’s ever done that to you. But…you aren’t opposed. You’re curious.

You nod.

“Words.”

Oh, damn.

“Yes, you can.”

“Good girl.”

You don’t have time to pay attention to the rush of hormones that praise gives you, because a harsh sting of pleasure suddenly hits your senses as he brings the end of the belt down, slapping your clit with it.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, shock, arousal, and fascination flooding you all at once.

“How was that?” He asks, watching you carefully. You take stock of yourself…and are intrigued to find that you liked it. As soon as you realize that, you understand that Kento is about to show you an entire new world previously unexplored to you.

Your eyes lock with his. “It was good.”

A mixture of relief and desire swarm his gaze. “You liked that?”

“Yeah.”

Without warning, he does it again, a little harder, and you cry out this time, unused to the strangely welcome sensation.

“Still good?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Your next breath is shaky. “More.”

He wastes no time in delivering exactly what you want. Over and over again, until your pearl is red and swollen and the folds beneath are glistening with need, belt shiny with a bit of it. He stops once you reach this state, making sure you see as he licks it off the belt. Your lips part, entranced, and he drops the accessory, instead moving to undo the front of his slacks. Your heart begins racing–but then he pauses, seeming to deflate slightly.

“I’m not gonna go all the way,” He states, “I don’t have condoms.”

“What?” Your voice is more than a little indignant. “But…how?”

“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.”

He pulls his cock from its restriction in his briefs, pushing his waistbands down to the tops of his thighs, and the sight of the thick, red shaft as your mouth watering and your core pulsing around nothing. 

You think he’s changed his mind as he lines it up, but then he just glides it against your folds, coating it in your essence and using it to rub against you, the feeling intense due to the sensitivity of your previously abused clit, but not what you crave.

“Kento,” You whimper, watching him rub himself off as he plays with you using his cock. “Please…”

“We’re not risking a pregnancy,” He maintains, “It’s not wise.”

You are beyond frustrated at this point, entrance weeping for attention, and you swear the desire is so bad you can feel your entire core sore and empty, vying to be filled and stretched.

What can you say that will get him to do it, even just a little bit?

Wait. Just a little bit.

“What about just the tip?”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“Just the tip,” it comes out needier than you had intended, but god damn it you’re horny and all out of shame twice over.

Kento takes a good look at you, at himself and the position you’re in, sucking in a controlled breath for the umpth time that night.

Then, he lines up again, cockhead pressing against your entrance. “You’re going to regret asking for it.”

Is he challenging you? Whatever. What. Ever. You’ve reached a point where if you don’t get his cock soon your heart may actually give out. 

“Let me decide that.”

His jaw sets tightly before finally, finally, he cants his hips forward, pushing the tip of his shaft inside of you. 

As soon as it’s in, your head falls back on the couch, hips starting to roll without your permission. Your body wants him all on its own, and you’re no longer in command of it. He groans, pulling out and then pushing it back in, only the tip again, and you whimper in half bliss and half frustration.

You want more. 

You understand the true meaning of temptation now. You’ve had the first bite of the proverbial apple, and it’s shocking how eager you are to devour the rest to its core.

Everytime he pushes in, never going past the smooth head of his cock, you moan, wordlessly begging for more. There’s a worry in his brow and a tenseness to his jaw that indicates just how much self-control he’s exercising, and as you look up at him, you realize he’s still pretty much fully clothed—his tie is pristine around his neck, shirt fully buttoned up, only his dick out and vulnerable to your eyes. 

It’s unfair, and you seek to change that.

Your hand loops into his tie and yanks him down by it, taking him by surprise. He has to catch himself on his hands to avoid falling on you, a grunt escaping his lips as it causes him to slide further into you.

In a lowered hiss, he asks you, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The tone is so vindictive it has any words dying on your tongue. All it takes is a moment before he’s forcefully breathing out and lifting himself off of you, cock withdrawing from between your legs.

You open your mouth to protest, and that’s when your world spins. 

You were face up, but now you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, having to brace yourself as he manhandles you silently. There’s not even a moment for you to acclimate to your new position before you feel his fingers loop through your hair as you’d done to his belt, and in one motion, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams all the way into you, pulling your hair back hard to make you arch for him.

A loud cry splits through the air and it’s only when he starts repeatedly fucking hard and fast into you with the entirety of his monstrous size that you realize the sound was from you.

“See what happens when you push me?” His voice is hoarse and gritty, more like a growl than a whisper, a dull ache inside of you where he’s currently remolding the shape of your walls.

All you can do is make incoherent noises, and you aren’t sure whether they’re from pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both. His grip on your hair isn’t letting up and it hurts, but you’ve also never felt so completely out of control of yourself and somehow it just feels freeing to you. 

“Huh?” He asks, and it’s then you realize you never replies to him verbally. You muster up the strength to speak.

“Y-yeah…” it sounds breathy and whiney, completely foreign in the contours of your voice.

“You happy now? Happy you got me to fuck you like the greedy whore you are?”

The harsh word ripples through you hotly and you moan, nodding as good as you can. “Yes…”

“Yes?” He asks, breathless, and he lets go of your hair in favor of wrapping his hand around your neck from behind. “You like being screwed like a whore?”

Apparently, you do. This is new information to you as well. You nod, gasping as he grabs your hand and presses it over your abdomen, where you can feel the flesh rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Feel that?” He asks, “that’s me inside of you.”

“Oh god,” You rasp, the knowledge of him so deep inside your body going right to your head. You can feel your mound weeping all over yours and his thighs, the wet slap tell-tale of just how much you’re enjoying this. Just the realization has you fluttering around him, a sensation that isn’t lost on him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You really do like this, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, yes, Kento…”

He groans, leaning forward and kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, brushing your hair out of the way. 

“Such a good girl for me…my good little slut.”

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he speeds his movements up, the hand that was pressing yours to your stomach moving down to the slippery mess that is your swollen clit.

The big palm of his on your neck slides the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders and dips into the neckline of it, grasping your breast as if to claim ownership of it. 

“Oh my god,” You breathe again, hips twitching at all of the stimulation, face hot, entrance thoroughly fucked open and sloppy, debauched by Kento like a destructive form of artwork.

His middle finger massages circles into your sensitive pearl as he continues the grueling pace of his hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck, and all at once it becomes too much.

It crashes into you like the unforgiving wave of the raging ocean, sweeping you into the depths of pleasure.

You cum so hard on his cock he physically has to stop moving, your hold on him so tight he’s locked inside of you. That’s the moment that he follows, spilling his pent up, heavy load into you with a hiss of pleasure. 

Your arms and knees feel like jelly. Your walls are sore and throbbing, completely exhausted from his ravaging. But all you feel is feather-light. Finally, finally you did it. And it was better than your wildest imagination.

Lips place a tender kiss on your shoulder, his labored breaths slowing back to regulation. You feel his cheek rest upon the skin of your upper back. Both of his hands massaging along the sides of your hips.

“I’m sorry we waited so long. I just figured it would be too intense for you.”

You shake your head, turning it to look back at him as he straightens up and carefully pulls out. 

“Don’t do that again.”

The corner of his lips turns up slightly. “Oh no, I won’t make that mistake twice. In fact…there’s something else I want to do now.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to test your limits.”

__

A/N: here's my Nanami masterlist :) this is the first piece but lmk what else you want me to write for him! Hope you enjoyed.

[euthymiya]

it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore

contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie

the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.

he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.

he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.

he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.

he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?

except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.

the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).

“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”

thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.

first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).

second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.

he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.

his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.

“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”

the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.

“what the—”

wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”

“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”

“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”

your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.

“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”

wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.

to: duke wriothesley

from: iudex neuvillette

“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.

instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”

“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”

the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.

“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”

“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.

wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.

“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”

“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”

he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.

maybe all three, if he’s being honest.

“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”

“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”

wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.

“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”

“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”

wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.

“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”

“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”

“b-but—”

“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head. 

“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”

“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”

“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”

“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.

that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around. 

he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing. 

you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does. 

sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.

like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.

“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”

“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him. 

“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”

“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.

you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.

“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”

“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”

“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”

you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.

“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him. 

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity. 

“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.

they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.

you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions. 

he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone. 

you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth. 

he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.

“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”

“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.

“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”

“yes,” you whisper instantly.

he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache. 

“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”

“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”

he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”

when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly. 

“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.

“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly. 

“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”

you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs. 

“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length. 

your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time. 

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”

“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”

“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”

you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat. 

“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”

you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.

“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”

you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.

“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”

“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”

“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.” 

you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp. 

“wriothesley, need more—”

“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”

he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head. 

finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived. 

your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.

“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously. 

“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”

“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.

“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”

you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once. 

“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”

you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction. 

“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”

“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”

you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”

“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds. 

you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position. 

he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.

he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release. 

“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”

his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry. 

you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.

“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”

“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”

once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms. 

his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin. 

“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.

“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.

“it’s pretty ugly.”

“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”

“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”

“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”

“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”

“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.

“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”

“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”

“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”

“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”

“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”

“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”

“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”

“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”

“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”

you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.

“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.

“but…?” you press.

“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”

“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”

“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.

he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual. 

the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.

——————————

as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return. 

the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office. 

you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist. 

you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.  

but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls. 

“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”

you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.

“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.

“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”

“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.

“but you just said—”

you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”

“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”

“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”

it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.

“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”

“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”

you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”

“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.

“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”

“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”

“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.

“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke. 

“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”

“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.” 

he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”

“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”

“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”

“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”

“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”

“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”

“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”

“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”

“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”

“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”

“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.

“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.

“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.

“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.

“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”

“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.

“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”

“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”

he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move. 

“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”

“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum. 

he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”

“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”

he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.

“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize. 

not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around. 

it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters. 

“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”

“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”

“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”

“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.

“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions. 

“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.

“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.

“and you aren’t?” you challenge.

“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”

it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily. 

“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”

“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.” 

the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit. “god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”

“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”

“please let me feel you.”

“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”

the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours. 

“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.

“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”

“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out. 

“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”

“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”

“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”

“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”

he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?

“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”

“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.

“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”

hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying. 

you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath. 

“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”

“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.

“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”

he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him. 

he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”

“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion. 

“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”

“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”

his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest. 

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”

“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”

“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”

“okay, no need to get all…”

“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.

“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.

“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”

“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly. 

“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.

“until…?”

“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”

“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity. 

“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”

“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.

“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”

it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.

“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”

he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”

“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.

“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”

“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”

“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”

“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”

“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”

“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”

“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.

“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”

“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.

you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his. 

it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer. 

you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”

“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”

“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”

“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”

“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”

“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”

“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”

“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”

you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is. 

he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you. 

“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.

“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”

“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”

“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”

“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”

“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”

“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”

he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.

“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”

“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”

he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory. 

“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”

“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”

“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”

“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”

“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”

“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.

“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”

“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”

“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.

you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you. 

sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”

“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.

“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”

“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”

“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”

sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him. 

——————————

your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other. 

on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.

but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other. 

it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared. 

you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest. 

there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.

you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered. 

and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.  

the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet. 

he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”

“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”

“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”

“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”

“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.

“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”

“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”

“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”

it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down. 

“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.

“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”

“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”

“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms. 

“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side. 

“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”

“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger. 

“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”

“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”

“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”

“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”

“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”

“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.

“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”

“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”

wriothesley’s eye all but twitches. 

“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”

“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”

with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”

“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”

wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora. 

“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”

“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”

“fine,” is all wriothesley says.

“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”

“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.

“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”

“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.

the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe. 

you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady. 

“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.

“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”

“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.

“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”

“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will. 

because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you. 

“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”

“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.

“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”

“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”

“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?” 

“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”

“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one. 

“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.” 

if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it. 

“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.

“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”

“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”

“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly. 

you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.

and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.

“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”

“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”

“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”

“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar. 

“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”

“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”

“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”

“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”

“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”

“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”

“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”

“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.

so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.

“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”

“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”

“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses. 

“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”

“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”

“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”

“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”

“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”

“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.

“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”

“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.

“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“you’re insane.”

“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”

“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.

“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”

“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care. 

no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.

no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title. 

no one until you. 

“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”

“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with. 

“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”

“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are. 

he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is. 

“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”

“doing the dirty work, huh?”

“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”

“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”

“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”

“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”

“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink. 

he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.

“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”

“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you. 

“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”

“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.

“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”

“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”

“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”

“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”

“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”

his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”

“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows. 

“wri—”

“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”

you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.

“pretty,”  he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”

“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”

he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”

“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”

“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”

“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”

“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”

he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp. 

“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.

you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure. 

“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”

“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”

“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”

you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor. 

“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”

you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls. 

“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.

“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”

“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”

“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.

his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.

“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”

“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.

“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”

“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”

“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”

the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love. 

“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”

“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”

“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick. 

you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths. 

“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”

“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”

“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”

“i’m sure i’ll manage.”

finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley. 

you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other. 

“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.

“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name. 

“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”

“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”

“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder. 

“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”

“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”

“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”

“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”

“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”

“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”

“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”

and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.

“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”

his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?

finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.

“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.

“so humble,” he snorts.

“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”

“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”

it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley. 

“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”

“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.

you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.

“pardon?”

he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.

“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.

“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.

“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”

he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.

except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.

it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.

they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.

you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.

he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

it always ends with he loves you.

“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”

gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.

“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”

“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”

“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.

“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”

“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.

“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”

“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.

“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.

and then he nods.

“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”

your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.

some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.

he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.

cursed to always remember you in everything.

so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.

“about?”

“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”

“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.

“no. to make sure they were really dead.”

“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”

“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”

“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”

“good thing i didn’t, huh?”

“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.

“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.

“to your parents' grave?”

“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”

“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.

“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.

you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.

it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.

he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.

“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”

you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.

“i love you.”

he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.

it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.

“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”

“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”

“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.

your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”

his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.

he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.

“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.

it is.

it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.

his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.

sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.

love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?

he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.

it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.

loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.

“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”

“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.

“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”

“promise me,” he begs.

“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”

all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.

it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.

“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”

“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.

he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”

you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”

“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”

“they’re not everywhere—”

“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”

“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”

“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”

“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.

he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.

“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.

“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”

you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.

you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.

you love him.

you love him.

you love him.

it always ends with you love him.

and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.

it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.

ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸

ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

The Meetup

《Part 2 for Next Caller

《Pairings:College!Eddie Munson x shyfem!reader

《Summary: After your call with Eddie, you can't get him off your mind. You promised yourself to let your fears go and finally speak with him in person. Some things don't go as originally planned because Eddie just so happens to walk into your coffee shop.

《Warnings:fluff,smut. 90s!Eddie, a little tiny bit of dry humping, oral ( female & male receiving) dirty talk, pet names (good girl, sweetheart) phone sex, masturbation (male). Sex toys (fleshlight)

Word count: 7.7k

A/n: Please reblog like and leave a comment to show support. Not proofread ignore any mistakes you come across.

Disclaimer: Please read part one linked at the top to understand the rest of the story.

Mini series masterlist

18+ minors dni

Almost a few days after the stunt, you pulled on the radio with Eddie it didn't take long before word got around on campus. It's all anyone could talk about they wanted to know who the mystery caller was, and Eddie seemed to be cornered more so than usual. As people surrounded him, he wished maybe one of them were you. Hiding amongst the crowd of people.

Anytime a woman called in, his assistant would jump out his skin. He knew he should have shut it down the moment it started, but he trusted Eddie. Now, anytime the phone rings, he instantly goes into a frenzied panic. Eddie just laughs at how over dramatic he was being. He knew if someone called in trying to pull the same stunt as you did, he'd turn them away. He's not gonna tell his assistant that, though. He likes how jumpy and absolutely horrified he gets when there is a female voice on the other end of the line.

You still listened in every show since that night. Almost every time someone called in, they would either want to do what you did or want to talk about you. One thing that pretty much kinda bothered you were some of the girls calling and pretending to be you. Sometimes, you felt like it was bait, and someone was just trying to get the real "Miss caller" to give away her true identity. Much like how tonight was going, if you were tired of it, you can only imagine how he must feel.

"Yeah hi its me calling you back." An unfamiliar female voice spoke.

"Nice try, you don't really sound anything like her, buh-bye." His voice etched with annoyance as he hung up on the fifth woman of the night.

"Anyone want to call in and talk about I' dunno sports?" He sounded absolutely over it.

"I'm fucking desperate over here."

He emitted a long sigh into the mic. "Can someone call in with an embarrassing or some shit?"

You begin to drown out the sound of him talking as he tries to move along the segment.

You felt bad you truly did for what was happening to him now. You don't regret choosing him to help you, but you wish the circumstances were a little different. You hope he didn't hate you for this. You don't think you could live with yourself if he did.

Eddie on the other hand couldn't get you off his mind. You infested it, and no matter how hard he tried to think of over things, you creeped your way back in. He dreamt of you, and every dream was the same. He could hear you speaking to him, but right when he got close enough to reveal who you were, he'd wake up.

He got absolutely chewed out by his boss that following day. His show was close to being taken off the air, but once they saw how much buzz it was getting, they decided against it. He was on thin ice, though, when it came to how raunchy his segment was allowed to get. The conversation made local news in your town, which created more concerns for you.

The thought of someone figuring out how to trace your call back to your home terrified you to no end. Could they even do something like that? You don't know and definitely don't want to find out. Eddie did make a promise to keep you anonymous, but that didn't mean everyone else who worked there did. You try to push the paranoia to the back of your mind and just put all of your focus on school and work. This whole situation should blow over shortly you hoped.

Even with all of the chaos at your campus right now, that still didn't persuade from wanting to go see him play Thursday. Which was perfect timing since your roommate was going out of town that same day. Leaving you to an empty home all to by yourself. Who knows, maybe you'd get lucky and take him home. It was wishful thinking on your part, but still, it could happen.

Little did you know you didn't need to wait that long to see him after all. As you just rang up a customer's coffee order, he was next in line. He was too preoccupied looking at all the coffee options on the menu to see he's the next one to in line. You cleared your throat to get his attention and he looked right at you.

Your heart felt like it was in your throat when his eyes met yours. He looked very good today, making it much harder for you to focus. He had his hair pulled back and wore a oversized black corduroy button-up shirt with black ripped jeans. He gave an apologetic smile for holding you up.

"Uhhh, sorry, I really don't know what this shit means." He laughs, pointing back to the menu above.

Your mouth goes dry, and you try to play it cool.

"Well, what kind of coffee do you usually like?" You asked, trying to forget about who's standing before you. He's just some guy you kept reminding yourself.

He pressed his lips in a thin line, "Well, i usually don't drink coffee. if I did, I guess I wouldn't want it to taste like ass."

"So whatever you suggest."

You giggle and smile, turning to look at the menu as well. "I'd suggest maybe a vanilla latte. It's pretty basic."

"I'll take whatever you tell me to." He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm putting all my faith in you."

"Wait a minute, are you implying im basic?" His mouth agape throwing a ringed hand over his heart pretending to be offended.

He was toying with you hoping to get you to laugh but instead you panicked.

Swallowing hard." N-no...its just a pretty standard drink to order."

"Hey, it's cool. I'm messing around." He reassured.

"Oh..um okay well then."

You try to regain your composure as your face begins to tingle.

"Okay, and what size? Small, medium, or large? " You asked him, trying to hide the fact that you're rapidly about to lose your mind.

"Oh, I need a large."

You nodded, putting in his order and ringing him up. He stands there a moment too long, and it's making you a little nervous. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Your eyes grow wide, and you quickly turn to look away.

"Nope." You shook your head.

"You sure? You seem so familiar to me." He bends down on his elbows leaning on the counter. He's trying to examine your face to remember where he knows you from.

"We may have a had a class together at some point." You shrug.

"I mean yeah--but I don't know there is something else." He continued staring while you ran around behind the counter, putting away fresh croissant.

The longer it took for his latte to be finished, the more anxious you got. He wouldn't stop looking at you. You wanted to tell him it's rude to stare, but you don't. He kept trying to make small talk with you, which didn't help your nerves at all. You kept stumbling over your words or clearing your throat because it was getting dry.

You took a breath of fresh air when they finally called his order number. He took his coffee and waited around until you came back. "So, uhh, I don't know if this weird, but you wouldn't be apposed to going on a date with me?"

You blinked twice trying to figure out if you just heard him correctly.

"Come again?" You ask in disbelief.

"Oh, well, I was wondering if I could take you on a date?" He repeated as a small blush creeped along his cheeks.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, I'd love to." You tried to keep your cool, but on the inside, you were jumping for joy.

His smile grows ten times wider when he hears you accept his date. "Great, write down your address and phone number so we can keep in contact."

You nodded and ran to grab a pin and paper, giving him all of the information he needed. He also wrote down his number to give to you as well, just in case you needed to get in touch before your date.

"Cool, how's Friday sound?" He asks, taking the piece of paper you handed him. "Friday sounds great, actually."

"My names Eddie, by the way." He added motioning to himself.

He smiled again, taking a sip of coffee as he began heading for the door. He turns to look at you one last time before leaving. "I'll see you Friday, pretty girl."

"Thanks a latte." He joked, holding up his cup before finally exiting the coffee shop. His face scrunched up with embarrassment as he turned to leave. Why the fuck did I just say that? He thought to himself as he practically chugged down his drink, heading to his first lecture of the day.

You're standing still behind the counter, frozen in place. Did that really just happen? That fast? You started to think someone was pulling a prank on you. Maybe everyone did find out you were the caller and decided to mess with around. No, Eddie doesn't seem like the type of guy who would do something like that, you thought. You just couldn't get over how easy that was, a little too easy.

The week went by way too fast for you, and the closer it got to your date, the more anxious you became. You wanted to tell him so badly it was you who called. Would he even still like you after that? He seemed just as eager to meet you as you wanted to meet him. Doesn't really matter now. You'd tell him eventually anyway. Especially if this date goes well.

You didn't see or hear from him too much during the days leading up to Friday. You figured he was very busy since he still was doing his show on the radio and playing with his band. On top of attending classes, he seemed like he didn't have much free time. Which is why you didn't cancel on him like you were probably going to. After you thought about it for a while, you realized he definitely was making the time to take you out.

Eddie called you a few times to check in and see if you were still willing to go out with him. He'd make small talk to ask how you were and if your classes were going well. He'd crack a joke or two, making you laugh easing your mind of any self doubt you had before.

Now that it was officially Friday evening, you quickly left work early to go home and get ready. He said he'd be come by eight o'clock to pick you up, giving you a few hours to decide what to wear. You searched through each article of clothing hating every single piece. You know deep down he doesn't care about what clothes you're wearing. He asked you out while you were in your work attire. With your coffee stained apron and dumb hat.

Still, you wanted to look nice for him, and you don't get out much as it is. So you opted for just a simple black dress. Dowsing yourself in a sweet perfume and putting on a pair of heels. You pray you don't end up falling and busting your ass in front of him tonight. You were shaved, plucked, and smelt of vanilla and spice.

You were just putting the last touches to your makeup on when you heard a knock at your front door. You did a last mirror check, making sure everything looked well put together. You take a long, deep breath and exhale before you go to open up for him.

When you opened the door to greet him, he was standing there with one hand in his pocket. While the other is holding a bouquet of flowers. He wore a black pullover sweater with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, revealing his tattooed arms. His dark curly hair loose around his shoulders, and he smelled like mint and tobacco. His smile widened when he saw you for the first time since your last meeting. His dimples on full display, and you couldn't help but melt a little. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You don't look too bad, either." You smile, stepping out to stand closer to him. "Nah, I just wanted to impress you."

He blushes, and this is the second time you've seen him do that. He gave a boyish smile and handed you the bouquet of flowers he picked. "These are for you, sweetheart."

"Thank you." You reached out to accept the flowers. "They're beautiful."

There is a moment where you both don't say a word and just stand there gazing at one another.

Eddie cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

You nodded, closing the door behind you and making your way to his van. He walked next to you with a hand on the small of your back. He moved past you quickly to open the door and help you get into the passenger seat. Eddie made his way to the driver side and hopped in no longer after you.

The drive to the restaurant was fairly quiet except for the music playing on Eddie's radio. He humed along, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat. You both steal glances here and there when the other isn't looking. Your heart beating a mile a minute.

Eddie seemed calm and collected, but on the inside, he felt just the same. Usually, he was pretty confident around women, but there was something about you that made his heart skip a beat. He doesn't know what it is that pulled him in so quickly. He's not complaining one bit either.

You finally see the restaurant up a head and sigh in relief. He pulled up and parked in the front. He made you wait there while he jumped out of the driver side to jog over to help open up your door. You took his hand and carefully got out while trying not to flash anyone in the process. You wish the dress you finally decided on wasn't so short.

You make your way inside where a hostess greets you both and guides you to a table in the far back. You sit across from one another while she handed you a menu to look over. A waitress soon comes by to ask what drinks you'd like, and you both settle on a Dr pepper.

She returned not too much longer to take your orders and set down your drinks. You and him seemed to be in sync tonight since the both of you ordered a burger with onion rings on the side. Once she took your order, she left, leaving you alone together again.

"So I'm gonna ask a boring question and say what do you enjoy doing for fun?" He playfully asked, taking a sip of his soda.

"Uh, well, I haven't been having much fun lately with work and school taking up my time." You confessed feeling a little embarrassed you don't live an exciting life you imagined he did.

"You don't hang out with friends or go out?" His brows furrowed.

You play around with a piece of paper on the table, avoiding his gaze. "Uh, well, I don't have that many friends here."

"I mostly just keep to myself and stay home a lot." You continued on.

He frowns. "Boyfriends?"

You shake your head, trying not to even think about any of your exes at a time like this.

"You know what? I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask about boyfriends while in the middle of a date." He gave an apologetic smile.

"Hope he doesn't mind sharing you for the night, though." He winked, making you laugh.

He seems to enjoy making you laugh when he notices you're uncomfortable or getting shy.

The waitress finally arrived back with your food, and you didn't hesitate to start eating immediately. He watched you with amusement and started eating right behind you. The longer you both talked, the more relaxed you became.

You were already familiar with him and found a form of comfort when listening to his show. But being alone with him felt different. You never thought this moment would come. You almost wanted to cry, thinking it was just some elaborate dream that you'd soon wake up from. The date was going amazing so far, and you never wanted it to end.

"So, um, how's your show going?" You ask him, not wanting to seem like he was the only one asking the questions.

"It's good..well actually I'm in some trouble, but they'll live. More people are listening in now, so I think the money will shut them up." He openly admited, shoving an onion ring in his mouth.

You raise an eyebrow "in trouble for what?"

You already knew but wanted to hear him say. You kept wondering what he thought about that phone call. Even if it might hurt your feelings, you were dying to know. Your curiosity always got the best of you.

He shakes his head. "Maybe I'll talk about it on our second date."

You giggle, finishing off the last bit of your dinner. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Well, I play DnD when I have extra free time, I play with my band at the bar by campus." He frowned a little at the mention of his band.

"Sadly, we probably won't be playing much together here very soon." He adds.

Changing the subject quickly, not wanting to bring the mood down. "Girlfriends?"

"No girlfriends."

He eyed you up and down, grinning wide poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek. You swear you could see a little twinkle in his eye.

He leans forward, getting awfully close. " You almost ready to go?"

"Um sure, yeah." You respond a little sadly, not wanting the night to end so soon. He waves for the waitress to bring over the bill. Once he was done paying, you both got back in his vans.

The van ride back to your place wasn't as awkward as before, but there was something electric in the air. There is too much tension between the two of you. It felt like the silence was lingering until one of you decided to make the first move.

He pulls up in front of your home and helps you step out of the passenger side. Both of you walking up to your front door, not speaking. This was your chance to invite him in. You thought to yourself. "I had fun tonight."

"Yeah, me too." He smiled, putting his hands back in pockets.

You look up at him and whisper. " Do you want to come in?"

He paused for a moment, hoping he heard you correctly before answering. "Yeah, I'd love to come in."

You unlock the front door and take his hand, pulling him inside and guiding him to your bedroom.

The moment he was finally in his lips, crashed onto yours in a heated kiss. The kiss was sloppy and passionate as your tongues fought for dominance. Your lipstick smears on his mouth. He breaks away to move down your jaw and nip at your neck right under your ear. He nibbled and sucked at your tender skin, causing your knees to buckle. You grabbed onto his biceps, holding on tightly to keep your balance.

He stops to look at you in your eyes. "You wanna get undressed for me?"

You swallowed hard and nodded.

"Words, pretty girl." His voice is low and husky.

"Yes." You panted.

Eddie reaches around to unzip the back of your dress, letting it pool around your feet. He squates down his face mere inches from your heat. He looks up at you through his long lashes. He kisses your tummy right above the waistband of your panties before reaching to grab your ankle. He brought it forward to unclasp your heel. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. He tosses the shoe to the side before moving to the next one and doing the same.

He stands up, reaching around your back again, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall to the floor, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air of your bedroom. You watch him as he takes his shirt off, exposing his bare chest to you. You notice tattoos you've never seen before. One of a faded demon on his peck and a black widow right under his clavicle. "Be a good girl and lay back on the bed."

You hesitate for a moment as your mind is already feeling hazy. You turned to slowly make your way up the bed, laying back against your pillows. You watch as he took his boots off and unbuckeld his jeans, letting them hang low on his hips. He seductively crawls his way up until he is hovering above you.

You push on his chest. "Umm....I don't think it's a good idea if we have sex."

He sit back on his knees. "Want me to leave?"

"No, we can do other stuff. I'm just not ready to do that." You confessed.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything you don't want to." He reassured you, bringing a hand to gently cup your cheek.

You let out a shakey breath, feeling a little more comfortable . You were worried he would be mad at you, but he wasn't.

"If you don't like anything I'm doing, don't be afraid to tell me,okay?" He's being sincere, you can tell. He wanted you to feel safe with him.

You nodded again. "Okay, i will."

"Good." He smiled and leaned down to give you another kiss to your lips.

He brought his hips against yours grinding his hard cock against your core. You moan in his mouth when his cock applies pressure to your clit over your panties. He pushes against you harder, causing him to grunt. He moved to lay by your side, pressing his front right up against you. His fingers dance and play with the waistband of your panties. You can feel his prominent buldge pressing against your outer thigh. His calloused fingers slowly slips past the delicate lace. You can feel him brushing past your clit. He carefully glides his middle finger in between your wet fold, collecting your slick on his finger. Ignoring your aching bud in the process.

"Fuck you're so wet." He murmured against your mouth.

He pushes one finger inside your entrance, pumping it agonizingly slow. Your head falls back, giving him the perfect opportunity to attack your neck. He nips and sucks on the skin by your ear. Biting, licking, and sucking while his finger is knuckle deep in your pussy. He adds another stretching you open around his thick fingers. His thumb pressing firmly on your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out gasp.

"Think of my cock pretty girl." He whispered curving his fingers upward.

"Mmm!, s-so good." You whimper.

That's all you could respond with your mind completely gone. All you could do was focus on how he seemed determined to make you feel good. You feel him smile against your neck when where his lips were leaving feather like kisses all over. You clench around him as his fingers start working on that sweet spot on your walls.

"F-fuck." You let out a strangled moan bucking your hips.

He grinds his cock against your thigh. "Feel that?"

"Feel how hard I am for you?"

You look up at him with big doe eyes."y-yes I can feel you."

His picks up the pace, his fingers plunging in and out, making your head spin. Your pussy wet and loud taking his middle and ring finger. The tightness in your core building with each pump of fingers. Your moans getting more pornographic. His warm breath on your neck making you squirm.

"You're such a messy girl. My hand is getting soaked." He purrs in your ear.

He ruts harder against your thigh, violently rocking your bed.

"Can I taste you?" He rasped.

You let out groan. "Please"

You swallow hard as your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. You're already breathless. A small frown forms on your face when you feel his thick fingers leaving from inside of you.

"Ah ah, no pouting." He wiggled his index finger at you playfully.

No one has ever done this to you before. None of your exes cared about your pleasure they only wanted to get themselves off and then leave you to handle the rest. Eddie was the first man to help you cum and now he's going to be the first man to taste you. All of your ex boyfriends were selfish lovers. Which brought on so many insecurities you've been working hard to overcome. There was a part of you that didn't want him to keep going, but there was another part that was telling you to let go and enjoy it.

He gave you one last deep kiss on your lips before moving and kissing his way down right above your sex. He looked up at you again, and his pupils were blown out with lust. He never breaks eye contact as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. He sits up higher for a moment, admiring your naked body spread out before him. You went to close your legs, but he stopped you. "Let me see you."

Thats all you needed to hear before spreading them wider for him.

He cursed under his breath, closing his eyes, trying not to attack the moment you show yourself to him. "I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

He dips down again, his face so close to your pussy now. He hums in approval when he sees how soaked you are for him. Your slick dripping down to the curve of your ass. He kisses the inside of your thighs, testing to see how much you can take before you're begging him for more. It doesn't take long before you're already impatient. He nips and sucks at the soft skin, making you buck up against his face. His nose nudging your throbbing clit.

"Patience, sweetheart." He laughed.

You buck up again, wanting desperately wanting his mouth.

Without warning, you feel his warm tongue licking a long strip between your wet folds. You sucked in a breath, never having felt something like this before. "OOh!,Eddie." You mewled

He pulls you down hard against his face, grunting against you. He sucks and laps at your folds, letting your slick cover his face. You grind against his mouth, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your legs go to squeeze around his head, but his strong hands hold them in place. He takes his tongue to flick across your clit making you wriggle. His mouth attaches to your sensitive bud, and he sucks on it softly. You went to push his head away as the sensation is too much. He removed his mouth, checking see to see if you're okay. "You okay?"

"Why'd you stop?" You whined.

He smiled before reattaching his plump lips to your clit slurping and flicking his tongue over it. He watches as you writhe above him. His eyes never left you as he almost seemed mesmerized by the sight before him. You've never felt this desired by anyone before. Your hips bucking as you grind on his face as he begins sucking harder on your aching clit.

You grip the blankets beneath you. "i-im getting close."

His removes a hand from one of your thighs and carefully pushes one finger inside your entrance. You grab and pull on his hair, making him grunt against you. He adds another finger, curving them upwards to stroke that sweet spot on your walls.

Removing his mouth for a moment "Yeah is my good girl gonna cum?" He asked quickly reattaching his lips to your sore clit. Your backing arching off the bed as you pull on his hair some more.

Your walls pulsating around him as his fingers pump in out of you fast. His mouth sucking on your clit harshly as his fingers plunge deep inside your pussy. The wet noises his mouth is making as his tastes you, mixed with the squelching of your pussy fill the room.

He's lapping away at you, getting lost in your taste, driving you absolutely wild.

"Mmphf! Don't stop." You begged him.

You feel that all too familiar tightness building again, and you clench around his fingers. Your legs are twitcing and trembling. You're breathing harder than before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm washes over you fast, leaving your body to shake. Eddies mouth never letting go of your clit. While his skilled fingers work on your pussy helping you ride out your orgasm.

He removes his mouth and fingers from you tenderly, not wanting to hurt you in any kind of way. His face glistening with your slick and his lips look swollen. He moves to lay next to you on your bed. You're slowly coming down from your high. Your breathing evening out as you come to. You both lay there in silence for a few minutes.

"Can I taste you now?" Your voice sounding small as you asked.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

"Yeah, you can taste me." He whispers back.

Moving to sit back between his legs, you reached to take off his pants off. He helped you by wiggling them down his legs and discarding them to the floor. You notice how painfully hard he is in his boxers, and you lick your lips. Hooking your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. His his cock spring free hitting his belly button. The head an angry red leaking precum down his shaft. He hisses when the cool air hits sensitive his tip. Your eyes widened at the size of him. You now know he was telling the truth. He was big, and you don't know how you're gonna be able to fit all of him in your mouth.

He grabs it, giving it a few light strokes eagerly waiting for your mouth. Precum still dripping alongside it, getting on his hand.

"Don't be shy." His voice low and deep just like how he spoke to you that night on the radio. "I hope you'll let me be inside you one day."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? He bites his lip, waiting for your response.

"Yes." Your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyebrows raise, and a cocky grin spreads across his face. "You felt so tight taking my fingers. I can only imagine how you must feel when I'm spreading you open."

"Just thinking about you taking my cock. The little noises you'd make as you're begging for more."

He presses his thumb on the leaking slit his mouth forming an O shape at the pressure. The veins along his shaft are prominent from the amount of blood rushing to his cock.

"Making you cry because it feels so good." He's breathing heavier while eyeing you in front of him. He wants to get you worked up until you can't take it anymore. Teasing was his favorite part before anything. He didnt even have to touch anyone before he had them begging to be fucked in some type of way.

He kept going on. The way he was speaking to you brought you right back to the night you called him. You squeeze your thighs tightly together, desperate for any small amount of friction.

"Gonna think about that tight pussy when I'm cuming down your throat." His voice deep and seductive. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Hes thinking about all the ways he'd fuck you. Imagining what your pretty tits would look like with his cum is dripping down them. Filling you up with his cum and watching it dripping out after removing his cock.

Watching him stroke his cock as he thinks about fucking you makes your pussy flutter. You wonder what he must feel like. The feeling of him stretching you open. You're getting tired of him taunting you. You needed to taste him now.

You smacked his hand away, replacing it with your own, giving it a few more light strokes. You move your thumb to press down on his tip. He grunts and bangs his head back against your headboard. You bend down to give the head of his cock a quick peck. You remove your hand and spit into it as you grasp his thick shaft, rubbing it up and down lazily. His mouth hangs open as relaxes and enjoys what you're doing.

Moving your mouth closer, you kitten licked at his tip, tasting his precum. His thrusts his hips as you continue teasing him like he did to you earlier. You take the opportunity to pull away and spit directly on his cock earning you low groan deep from his chest. You begin to suck on the head of cock. Using your spit mixed with his precum as a lubricant to continue stroking his hard length with your hand.

Gliding your mouth down his length until he's hitting the back of your throat, making you gag a little. You removed your hand, resting them on his thighs. You try relaxing your throat while taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. He wasn't even all the way in, and he's already has you gagging. Tears leaking from your eyes smudging your mascara.

"Oh! fuck!, c-careful, sweetheart." He coaxed you.

Drool spilling down your chin as you try to take more of him in your throat. You attempt to keep him back there and focus on breathing from your nose. Sucking lightly on him, you pull him all the way out and swirl your tongue around his tip. "Hmm! your mouth feels so fucking good."

Your tongue wet and warm teasing the head of his cock. Eddie does everything in his power to not push you back down on his length.

He breathed heavily. "Shit! I-I not gonna last if you keep doing that."

Removing his cock from your mouth, creating a loud pop in his absence.

"you like it when I tease your cock eddie?"You asked in a sultry voice.

You wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Look who's not so shy afterall." He taunted you

You don't know what has come over you suddenly, but having him here in your bed tonight gave you a boost of confidence you never knew you had.

Putting the head of his cock to your mouth sucking it firmly almost forcing him to answer. "Y-yeah I like...I like the way you're teasing me."

You slip his length back down as far he could go in your throat, swallowing around him.

Hearing him like that only spurred you on more. Sucking his cock a little harder than before. Your head bobbing up and down faster. Your other hand moves to cup his balls, and he jerks at the feeling. The sensation of you massaging his balls and your mouth working on his cock practically sends him into a coma of bliss. His abs flexing and his toes curl. His entire body glistened with sweat. "Shit i-im gonna fuck... I'm gonna cum."

"You're gonna make me cum." He panted above you.

With a few more pumps of your hand and mouth sucking harder on his length. You feel his cock twitch and he's shooting his cum deep down your throat. Some spilling out and leaked from the corners of your mouth. He moans out loud and holds your head down until he's finished. You tried to swallow as much of him as you could take. Your mouth not leaving until you're collecting every bit. " S-sweetheart, please."

You let him go with a long string of saliva connecting you to his cock, his cum dripping down your chin. You collect it on your fingertips, bringing it to your mouth, not wanting to waste a drop. Sucking your fingers clean enjoying the salty taste of his cum.

He goes limp as he comes down from his high. His eyes glossed over watching your every move as you lick his cum from your fingers.

You moved to lay back next to him as you wait to see if he will soon leave. His chest rose and fell calmly now, but his head was still foggy. You don't want him to go, but you understand if he does.

"Thank you for tonight" you turn to smile weakly at him.

"No problem." He snorted.

There is a long, drawn-out pause, and you decided it time to tell him your secret.

"Um, I have something to confess to you." You're nervous, and he can tell.

He sit up straight and looks over at you, concern etched on his face. "Yeah? "

"Well, umm, I was the one who called you that night.....on your show." You confessed, looking down, playing with your thumbs.

He blinked, taking in what you just said. Not really sure if he heard you right or if he's still a little dazed.

"Are-- are you serious? " He sounded a little harsh, but he didn't intend to. That night was all he could think about since it happened. You were all he could think about. He lost hours and hours of sleep coming up with different possible scenarios on how he would find you. Who you could possibly be.

"Yeah. Are you mad?" You look over at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

His face softens immediately when he notices. "Are you kidding?"

"I've been thinking about you ever since." He sprang up on his knees with excitement scooting closer to you.

You wipe at your eyes and laugh when he takes your hands into his. The fear that was building up moments ago slowly fading away."Really?"

"Oh, you're definitely not getting rid of me now." He exclaimed.

"So, do you maybe want to go out again?" You shyly asked.

"Fuck yeah I do!" He celebrated clapping his his hands together.

You laughed at his excitement. Making you feel so much better now that you got that off your chest. No one has ever made you feel like this before. You felt like you've known him forever even though you just met in person. "Can I call you... like all the time?"

"Yes, absolutely you can." You giggle.

"Hope you don't mind late night ramblings and bad puns," He advised.

"I love bad puns."

He laid back down next, throwing an arm around you. The both of you stayed like that for the rest of the night. Staying up for hours laughing and telling each other stories about your life. You wish you and him didn't have to ever leave this bed.

Another couple of days have passed, and you really haven't heard much again from him since your date. You were starting to think he was just saying all of that stuff because he thought it was something you wanted to hear. You tried not to think like that and just chalked it up to him being extremely busy because he was.

He did talk about you a little bit on his show but never mentioned you were also the mystery caller everyone has been gossiping about. You listened in biting at your nails when he talked about going on a date with a cutie from the coffee shop across from campus.

Eddie never once talked about hooking up with you, and you're grateful for that. He didn't use your date as a way to have another story for his show. He genuinely wanted to take you out and have a nice time. He didn't hook up for a new story to keep his segment interesting. Most of the girls he was with actually asked him to talk about it. Otherwise, he never would have done it to begin with.

You sat on your bed feet dangling over the side, contemplating if you should just bite the bullet and call first. You don't wanna seem desperate, but you also really want to see him again. He agreed to go on another date with you. Since you haven't heard much else from him, you don't want to come off pushy.

Maybe you should call first? Let him know you're equally as interested in him.

You snatch up the phone and the little piece of paper he gave with his number on it. Putting in the digits and waiting for the dial tone to start ringing. You felt like you were waiting forever, but it's only been a few seconds. You were almost ready to hang up and pretend this never happened until you heard him answer.

"H-hello?" He panted into the phone.

He sounded like he was currently in the middle of something. What that something is you don't know yet.

"Hi, it's me....just wanted to call and check in with you." You spoke softly in the other end.

"Y-yeah, uhh, I'm doing good." He stumbled over his words.

He sounded out of breath, and now you're really hoping you didn't interrupt him. Especially if he has company at his place. The thought of that makes you feel a little sick. You're not dating him and barely even know him. You shouldn't feel this way even if he did have someone over. "I can let you go. You seem a little busy."

"Wait, don't hang up!" He exclaimed.

He ponders for a moment on how he can keep you on the other line.

"Wanna help me...with... something? " he asked with a nervous laugh.

You swallow hard before answering. "What do you need?"

You hear him curse under his breath in your ear. Low grunts can be heard, and it doesn't take long before you can figure out what's going on.

"W--wanna talk to you while I fuck this toy." He breathed heavy.

You go to lay back on your bed playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. You know what he wants you to do. Since he helped you out, you might as well do the same for him. It's only fair, right? The last time you did this, hundreds of people were listening. This time, it's just the two of you. Making the situation more intimate, but it also helps take the edge off.

Eddie was currently balls deep in his fleshlight when you called. He just got out of the shower hair still wet and sticking to his body. All day long, he kept thinking about you. He's been painfully hard and wanted to see if he could come over to your place again but didn't want to be so forward. He didn't want you to think he was using you to get off. He really really liked you and hoped there could be something more between the two of you. So he was going to do what he normally would and take of it himself. That was until you called him, and it sparked a little idea in his brain.

He was leaning back against a wall with one hand on a chair next to him, trying to keep his balance upright. Lube was all over his toy, leaking out onto the soft curls between his legs and balls. He glided the toy up and down his length at a steady pace trying not to cum so soon already. His mind races with vivid thoughts of you.

"What do you think about when you do that?" Your voice coming out so small in his ear.

He smiles to himself. "Well I--was thinking about you."

"Like, what exactly?" You played innocent.

Eddie knows what game you're playing, and he has no problem going along with it. He pulls his cock almost all the way out of the toy only to slam it back down hard causing him to groan loud. His legs almost giving out from under him. He pulled out the chair next to him and plopped down.

Biting his lip to stifle another moan.

"Thinkin' about you squeezing around me." He breathed heavily in your ear. "Wishing this was your pussy instead of some..F-fucking toy."

Sinking his cock back inside making a loud schlick noise you can faintly hear in the phone. Pumping his cock while his other hand runs along his abdomen. He's trying to balance the phone between his shoulder and cheek praying he doesnt drop it. His face and chest flushed a crimson red. He lets out a loud moan when he thrusts upward. "Ooh! Shit!"

"Did I feel good?" You purred into the phone.

"God yes--- so fucking tight. the way you hugged my fingers when i was knuckle deep inside you."

You squeeze your thighs together involuntarily, and you can feel a wetness pool in between your legs. You bite down on your lip hard listening as he fucks himself while talking about you. You want to touch yourself so badly. Your nipples hardening under the sheer thin material of your tank top.

Pumping his cock faster in the toy, lube splashing all over his pelvis and wrist dripping down onto the of floor. He's making a total mess and he doesn't care. He thinks about how messy he could make you.

You interrupt him from his thoughts

"What do you wanna do to me?" You whisper.

"Fuuuck, I wanna do the nastiest things to you." His voice ragged.

Moving the toy up and down his cock as he spoke in the phone, trying to keep It balanced as best he could.

He lets out whimper, "Wanna fill you up with my cum and clean it out of you with my tongue."

"W-wanna..fuuuck...wanna cum all over those pretty tits." He's panting and grunting louder in your ear.

....."Yeah?" You cooed.

"Make you cum in all sorts of ways you never even imagined you could."

He legs kick up, and his stomach tightens. He was getting close but didn't want this to end, not yet.

You're still lying in bed, looking up at your ceiling. You never thought you'd have this burst of confidence yet again, but it's different with him. You don't feel ashamed of anything. The way he's coming undone just by talking to you only made you never want to stop. You felt empowered.

There is a throbbing ache between your legs that you desperately want to take care of. You try to ignore it and put all of your focus on him. You wiggle around clenching up. Doing anything to ease that ache.

"Tell me what you think about you when you touch yourself." He breathed.

"You think of me?"

"Yeah," you muttered quietly.

"So tell me." He commanded gently.

You stammered. "I um, I think about what you would feel like inside me."

"Oh yeah?" His voice getting low.

Goosebumps prickle all over your skin when he does that voice. You squirm in your bed just thinking about that night he used it when he helped you cum over the phone. It was domineering and seductive.

"Mmhm, you're so big." You whimper.

"I don't think I could fit all of you."

"Fuuuck." He groans

"You wanna feel my cock struggling to stretch you open? Is that it?"

You whined into the phone. "Yes, I need it so bad Eddie."

His cock steadily plunging in out of his toy in a brutal pace. He's getting closer to his release, and the phone drops with a loud thud in your ear. His other hand moving to cup his balls mimicking how you massaged them. His hips thrusting up and all you can hear is the squelching sound his cock is making in the toy.

"Oooh shit!" He groaned louder. With a few more strokes and he's spilling his cum inside the toy. Still pumping his length, milking himself of every drop. His cum spilling out and coating his balls. He lays there in the chair, head falling back before realizing he dropped the phone. His head all foggy, and his vision is blury.

He went to get up, but his legs gave out, and he fell back down.

"Shit"

"Fuck"

You heard him cursing from afar. You laughed to yourself, knowing he probably had fallen down.

"Hang on!" He called out

He leans over and reaches out far to snatch up the phone off the floor. His breathing is ragged when he goes to talk. "I've never came that hard in my life."

Smacking a hand on his belly he changes the subject.

"Okay, so what were you originally calling me about? " He asked still panting in the phone.

"Umm, well, I wanted to see if you were still up for going out again....Maybe?" You closed your eyes, waiting for his response.

"Yeah, actually, you know my band is playing Wednesday. Why don't you come see us." He said matter of factly. Like you didn't just help him jerk off on the other line.

You don't understand how one minute he can say some of the most dirtiest things to you and the next be totally nonchalant. All you want to do now is hang up and take care of the ache between your legs.

"I'd love to!" You accept his offer excitement etched in your tone.

He lets out a laugh. "Great, it's a date."

Before you both go to hang up, he stops you.

..."Oh, and thank you for helping me this time." His tone sultry.

Your eyebrows shot up, and you gulp. "No problem--it was fun."

"Goodnight, Eddie." You said sweetly.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

You both stay on the line, neither one wanting to be the first to hang up. Eventually, you had to hang up first since it seemed like he wasn't going to be the one to do it. You roll over on your side, trying to relax and ready yourself for sleep. Your mind racing with excitement that you're finally going to see him play.

Maybe after your date, Eddie can take you back to his place this time. The ache between your legs was not subsiding. You needed him, and after your date, you decided it was time to have him.

[stilesmieczyslaw]

Stubborn Longing

*****Minors DNI!! 18+ Only content. *****  Words: 8.5K Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female Velaryon/Strong reader  Summary: Aemond swore that one day you would be wed. When the time actually came you wanted nothing to do with him and his prejudices. Slowly you remember how close you used to be.  Warnings: Targcest, Sex (P in v), masturbation, grinding, enemies to lovers? Friends to enemies to lovers? Slightly OOC Aemond. Lots of background filler and time jumps before the smut, smut. Loss of Virginity. Slight mention of blood. Fingering One swear word. No use of Y/N (If I miss anything let me know) The author is dyslexic and apologises in advance.  AN: I'm a Daemon girlie. But somehow I've been sucked into Aemond girlie territory. I can't get enough of your beautiful writing and fics... And edits. You're all fantastic and I hope you enjoy. Read my other unrelated fics here

You were the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Your hair was brown and curly. Your complexion looked nothing like your father's. Yet still you thought nothing of it. You had fond memories of laughing in the gardens with your father. Chasing him around trees and getting dirty, sneaking extra pieces of cake from the dessert table. Your mother would sometimes scold you both but she also encouraged it. If the people at court saw you playing with Ser Laenor then maybe they wouldn't question it.

You also had fond memories of your mother. You didn't understand what was wrong but there were some days, when she thought she was alone where she anxiously played with her fingers, absentmindedly staring into the fire. Tears at her water line but never shed. You silently wandered over to her and put your head on her knee. The first few times shocked her but now she grew accustomed to it. She stroked your hair and you drifted off. You woke again in your room unknowing how you got there.

You don't remember your younger brother Jace being born. He was just always there. But some days he was boring. He just lay there in his bed - which was unfair. Why was he allowed to sleep in mother and father's room while you slept in the next one?

The only other children to play with were your Uncles and Aunt. They had white hair just like your mother, father and grandsire. Your eldest Uncle, Aegon, sometimes would play but sometimes would be dragged away for lessons as he was older than the rest of you. Helaena your Aunt always seemed to prefer the company of bugs. Always finding somehow the biggest. Although custom would say you would spend your time with her. You were of similar ages.

But secretly you'd always spend time with your uncle Aemond. It started off as games you'd play together. Although his mother disapproved of these games. Or more so you. She was worried her son would get too attached to the bastard children. She could not let this happen. But what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. As you got older you'd find yourself alone with Aemond reading books. Both of you wanted to learn. More than what was expected of you. You'd teach each other High Valyrian.

Aemond was your best friend. You'd spend all day with him if you could but he had to learn to fight while you had to learn to be a wife.

"You should be my wife," Aemond said out loud after you had returned from one of your lessons. "Us?" You scoffed. He looked at you offended. "I did not mean it like that." You waved him off. "Your mother hates us being friends. Never mind us being wed." "Well, I was taught a good wife should know her husband. Who knows me better than you." "That is a good point and I wouldn't have to leave Kings Landing." You nodded. "But I'm sure your mother would try to find you someone else anyway." "What if I could convince her?" "You won't." You almost sang looking down at your book.

After the birth of your third brother Joffrey, your mother announced you would not live in Kings Landing anymore. A third child who did not look like her husband. What did it matter? Their father was their father and they all looked like each other. Did white hair matter when inheriting the throne? Apparently, it did. Your mother gathered all of your belongings while you begged her to stay. 

You were to live on Dragonstone. To which you were the heir. You might as well get used to it now. When your mother becomes Queen it will be your home and when your brother becomes king it will remain your home. You went to find Aemond for one final goodbye. You sat in the woods with him, underneath your shared tree. "You'll be back." He said rather confidently. "Will I?" You looked up at the castle. "When we wed." "You are a fool Aemond. But I admire you for it."

With your absence, his mother spoke more freely about your heritage. You were not your father's daughter. Aegon heard the rumours of Ser Harwin Strong. Aegon passed this knowledge to his brother. Aemond wondered how you could be the product of something so wrong. The more he heard it the more he hated it. How dare a bastard be his friend? Poison words enter the heart of a child so easily. 

Your father's sister died and the whole family were called to Driftmark for her final send-off. While you were sad for your father you tried to contain your excitement to see Aemond again. He had stopped replying to your letters. Maybe he was deep into his studies. When you finally saw him after months of missing him you couldn't help but run to him and hug him. His hug was stiff but you ignored that. 

"How is your plan going Aemond? Our marriage." You asked. "I miss Kings Landing." Part of you was joking, the other secretly hoped. You had missed him terribly. "If that's all you miss then maybe we should not get wed." The words were filled with hate. "Oh." You frowned. "It was a childish dream. I see now it does not matter. When I marry it must be for duty." "For what end would our marriage be then?" "It does not matter." He turned away from you.

For the rest of the night, you tried to talk to him again but he avoided you. You searched the castle on Driftmark for him and you found him at the wrong moment. You could hear the shuffling of a fight. You saw your brothers, cousins and Aemond fighting.  "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did...Bastards!"  "Aemond." You gasped. He turned to look at you. Horror in his eyes. He didn't mean for you to hear that. 

Your younger brother Luke took Aemond's moment of distraction to swipe at Aemond with a knife, taking his eye. He did not mean for the injury to be that bad but the past could not be rewritten. You shouted for help while Aemond lay on the floor bleeding. You were pushed away by The King's guard. Aemond's eye was lost and with it your friendship. 

The Queen wanted your brother's eye in return but your mother would never let that happen. But the Queen was determined. Her son lost something, so something must be taken in return. The King had a brilliant idea - Only in his mind. He proclaimed once you came of age. You and Aemond were to be wed. Something which this morning you would have taken with glee. But now you looked at the boy and glared. You hated him and by the look in his remaining eye. He felt the same. 

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"Mother." You tried to get her attention. She was rushing around in a panic. "Mother please." "We must prepare for the journey. You are to be wed tomorrow and nothing is ready." "If we do not go then we do not need to be ready." You tried. "Your King demands it, my love." She sighed. "The King... Does not know me. Not anymore." You held your tongue. You had more choice words that you would not utter in front of your mother.

"Your Grandsire was there the moment you were born. The look of happiness in his eyes as he held you for the first time."  "And yet he strives to take my happiness."  "You and Aemond used to be so close. Maybe you can be again." She tried to remain positive. You shook your head.  "No. Not after what he called me. The disrespect to my father. Who won't even be here to see his daughter sold like a..." You bit your tongue again. 

"Sweet girl." Your mother played with your hair. She was nervous. Something was eating at her mind. "You may be husband and wife to the outside walls but you can control what happens behind closed doors. If you do not wish to be with Aemond in private you do not have to be." She didn't say it but you knew what she was saying. You nodded in understanding. 

The flight to Kings Landing wasn't a long one. You were on your dragon silently crying. This would be the last flight you would take with your family for a very long time. Your brothers flew in circles trying to make you laugh. You closed your eyes and listened to their laughter trying to keep it in your memory forever. 

Once landed and your dragon seen to, you looked up at the Castle. It did not look how you remembered. Nor did the people inside. Your Grandsire looked more tired and old than you last saw him. Helaena was the mother of two small children. Aegon looked like he was fighting back a smirk and Aemond... Aemond had grown so tall. His eye patch suited him and he looked at you with distaste. You tried to meet his gaze of fire with your own but you couldn't hold it. You hated it. You hated him. 

The day came and your Mother and Step Father officially gave you to Aemond. Your hands were tied and you uttered words that had no meaning to you. You sealed your marriage with a kiss. You kept your face neutral no matter how much you wanted to scream. The crowd cheered as you walked through them with your husband. 

There was a giant feast in your name. Food from all corners of the seven kingdoms was presented and music played. You found yourself dancing with your brothers. Your new sister Helaena. Even your Stepfather danced with you. Your mother stayed to the side. Her pregnant belly was only a reminder of the life you were going to leave behind. Were you to have a new brother? A sister? Would you know their laughter? Would they know your face? 

The music slowed and the King announced that it was time for you and Aemond to dance before retiring to your marital bed. Aegon laughed loudly. You danced the dance your mother taught you. Move after move. You felt numb. This was the worst night of your life. Whispers filled the room. You ignored them. You knew now why your mother sat and looked into the fire looking sad. But unlike your mother, you would not receive comfort. Not here. 

When you reached Aemond's, no, your chambers... Your blood which was supposed to be made of fire, turned to ice. You did not wish to lay with your now husband. It might have been your duty but you did not wish it. The torment he brought you and your brothers. Calling you Bastards. Your mother said you did not have to, but what if Aemond expected it of you? 

Aemond stood behind you. His beautiful wife. He had wanted this for so long. He knew he had wanted you as his Lady Wife since he was a child. He let his mother's hatred into his head and he had regretted it every day. Not just because he had lost his eye over it but he lost you too. He would never forget the look on your face when he called you a Bastard. The last thing he saw with both eyes. He lost you. 

When he saw you arrive on Dragon back his breath was taken away. You had become a beautiful woman in the years you had spent apart. How he longed to write to you but he knew his letters would go unanswered, just as yours had done those years ago. When he saw you again it only reaffirmed his want of you. But he could tell by the tears running down your face this is not what you wanted. So he hid behind his cold demeanour. One that he was used to, one that people expected of him. 

As much as he desired you, he knew you did not feel the same. His own family did not want him so why would his now wife be any different? He could not remember the last time someone touched him with kindness. Not even a hug. His mind flashed back to when his brother forced a whore onto him and he vowed to never do the same.

He spoke finally, knowing you wouldn't. "I won't touch you. Not unless you ask." "I will not ask. Ever." You replied coldly. You walked off behind the divider to put on your night clothes which had been brought over by the handmaidens. It was difficult to get out of your marital gown but you refused to ask for help. Not from a man who would call you a bastard. Not from a man who claimed you like property. 

Once in your night clothes, you walked straight to the bed. It was freshly made but you could tell by the items surrounding the bed which side Aemond would sleep on and you chose to climb into the opposite side. Not long after Aemond joined you.

It was strange seeing a woman in his bed. He didn't hate you. He remembers only fond memories of your childhood. Times he was bullied by his own brother and yours. You would be there to console him. Make him laugh again. It was foolish to think after all these years you could pick up where you left off. As friends.

He climbed into his side. The both of you almost hung onto the side to ensure neither of you touched the other. You both did not sleep out of fear of doing such. You both were angry and you both were saddened. The following morning continued in silence. Your handmaidens helped you dress. They ignored the lack of maiden's blood on the bedsheets. You trusted them not to gossip but you couldn't be certain of that.

You made your way to break your fast with your family. It was almost like a mini feast again. How any of you still had room after last night you would never know. But you filled your plate with grapes, strawberries and other sweet fruits. Your mother greeted you with a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Aemond watched with jealousy. His mother would never treat any of her children like that. Not even when he lost his eye did she offer comfort. She only wanted revenge. He sat down and loaded his plate with whatever.

"I see the tiredness in your eyes brother. Did you remember where to put it? It has been a long time since you last used it. Surprised it hasn't fallen off with neglect." Aegon very loudly teased. "Aegon!" His mother scolded, looking around with embarrassment. You scooted your chair closer to your mother.

Soon midday came and it was time for your family to leave. Their dragons were saddled and their things packed. Your own dragon looked at them with confusion. Why was she being left behind? It did not help that she could also feel your own emotions of abandonment.

"Mother please." You tried one last time. Tears filling your eyes. Kings Landing had not been your home in years. The last time you lived here your father was still alive. How could you walk the gardens knowing he wasn't here, waiting for you to find him?  "I'm sorry my dear." She shook her head. "It is too late. Your vows were before Gods and King. I can not part you as much as I wish to. Your souls are bound." She gave you one last hug before tending to your brothers making sure they were ready. 

Your Stepfather watched with a frown. Knowing what it was like to be in a forced and unloved marriage. He took your hand. A very rare form of affection from him.  "Say the word and I shall end this marriage for you." He looked into your eyes looking for understanding. You had heard rumours of his first marriage. It was said among court he had killed her.  "Thank you, Uncle." You gave a concerned smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

You watched with tears in your eyes as your family flew away on their dragons. Your dragon roared after them. You patted her neck and hugged her. She is what was left. You did not go to your lord husband for comfort. You did not go to anyone for comfort. You stayed alone. 

Your handmaidens would fetch you food. You didn't want to leave your chambers. Were you acting like a child? Maybe but it felt like your only option. Rumours spread amongst the small folk that the high towers had imprisoned you with shackles.

The King, your Grandsire, would call you to his chambers. You sat in silence. You no longer knew the man in front of you. "I remember." He said very laboured. "You'd sit on my lap and help me build my masterpiece." He gestured to his miniature stone version of Old Valyria. A place neither of you had been. "You'd laugh at my jokes. Tell me Princess, what happened to your smile?"

"I have no reason to smile My King. I miss my family." "Am I not family?" The way he looked at you. An old man trying his hardest to keep his family together. He, just like you missed his family. His daughter, his brother and his grandchildren. He was bound to this place just as much as you were.

"Of course you are... Grandsire." You gave him an honest as possible smile. Far from the sparkle of happiness, he was used to. But better than nothing. "This was once your home, we, your closest friends, allies, confidants. We can be again if you leave your chambers. Walk the castle. Eat with us. Read with the maesters." "Yes, My King." You bowed.

You started off small. You would venture to Helaena's chambers. Eat with her and her children. You played with them and told them stories. They didn't understand your words. But they brought you much comfort in this time. Helaena also seemed to enjoy your company. Or more so did not despise it. Sometimes she would listen to your stories too. You loved the three of them. "Third draw. Left dresser." Helaena would mumble. The first time she said it you thought she was asking for something. But when you showed her everything in the drawer she would shake her head.

Then you would venture to the books and scrolls. Another place of your childhood. Piece by piece you were learning to smile again. At least in public. You still hung onto the edge of your marital bed. Trying to escape without falling.

One particular hot day you realised you could not stay inside. It was time to venture outside. Feel the wind blowing on your face. Picking up your book you followed your feet to your favourite tree. How you would spend hours reading underneath it. How your feet remembered the way while your mind did not, you did not know.

You followed them and gasped when you saw him. Of course. It was his favourite place to read too. While you had left this place he had not. He rolled his eye when he heard someone coming towards him. Normally it was some handmaiden telling him his mother required his attention. He just wished to read in peace.

He looked up and saw you. Book nestled on your hip like it was a babe. His mouth went dry. You remembered the tree?  "I'm sorry my Lord." You gave him a practised bow. "I did not realise someone else would be here. I did not intend to disturb you. I shall take my leave."  "Wait." He called to your quickly retreating back. "You need not leave." You turned to look at him. "The tree is big enough for us both to sit." He gestured to the floor. 

You hesitated. You really did love that tree. The tree never hurt you. In the wind, you could hear Aemond's laughter. His face was void of emotion but you could hear his childhood laughter.  "Yes, My Lord." You finally agreed sitting down. The tree separating you. Neither of you reading but thinking of the other person sitting on the other side. 

You both continued this new tradition for days. Maybe after the second week silence was broken. A squirrel ran past you. You gasped with delight at the tiny creature. You stayed as still as possible to not startle it.  "Aemond." You couldn't help but whisper. It was so quiet he almost didn't hear you. He turned to see what you needed. It must have been dire for you to talk to him after two weeks. He followed your gaze and saw the creature that brought so much light to your eyes. 

He remembered how much you loved the squirrels of the gardens. For one of your name days, he vowed to catch you one but failed to do so. But he enjoyed the laughter he got out of you in the process.  "Shall I catch it for you Princess?" He offered.  "No. I think he shall miss his family if you do. Leave him be." He didn't fail to catch the double meaning of your words. How was he living his dream when you hated him so? 

As more time passed you both found yourselves not sitting on opposite sides of the tree but closer to each other. Even in your bed, you felt more relaxed. You were starting to get used to life again but you still missed your family.

A raven came telling you the news of your new baby brother. Your heart almost burst with happiness and sadness in equal measure. You wished to go to Dragonstone to meet him but you couldn't. You must remain here with your Lord Husband... who must have a quill somewhere in these chambers!

You scrambled around looking for anything to write back to your mother with. Words of congratulations and excitement. But, you could not find anything. You went to his personal bedside dressers. It felt wrong to go in them. These were his personal effects. You would go mad with rage if he looked at your things. But you really needed to write to your mother.

You looked at the two dressers. Left dresser, the third drawer down. You opened the drawer and there was writing equipment but also old pieces of parchment. Curiosity got the better of you. They were your old letters. From when you first moved to Dragonstone. Letters you never got replies to. You laughed at things you once thought so important you needed to tell Aemond.

Beneath your letters, there was one you didn't recognise. You knew the writing, it was Aemonds. The letter was addressed to you but you never got it. He speaks of regret of his words to you on Driftmark. How he wishes to become friends again before you are wed. So many words are scribbled out. If he felt this way why not send it? Maybe you could have worked on something rather than marry in hate. Who knows where your relationship could have been if he had sent this? You borrowed an empty piece of parchment and wrote your letter to your mother. 

"Hello, Aemond." You greeted sitting down beneath the tree. He looked at you puzzled. You never greeted him.  "Princess." He gave a nod of acknowledgement. You almost felt giddy. Even if Aemond wrote that apology letter years ago part of you hoped he still meant it now. You sat in your usual silence but you could not wipe the smile from your face. Aemond opened his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. "What has gotten your spirits up?" You looked at him with a smile. You meant this one. He could see it in your eyes. 

"Mother has given birth to a son. I have another brother. I feel much happiness for her." That and his unsent letter but to tell him that would be admitting you went through his belongings.  "Oh yes. I heard." He nodded. At least this one wasn't likely to be a... He stopped his own thoughts. No. You were his wife. Your parentage did not matter. You had gone back to your reading but he could not get back to his. He couldn't take his eye off your smile. He hoped he could make you smile like that again. 

Another week had passed and you felt yourself become restless again. You had now been in Kings Landing for a handful of months. The Queen still did not speak to you unless she absolutely had to. The King was growing ever weaker. Aegon was a drunken fool. Helaena was sweet but you wanted to do something else. Not sit inside. Not sit and read a book. You thought of your poor dragon. It had been too long since you had seen her. Your one memory of your home on Dragonstone and you had been neglecting her out of selfishness. Today you would take her out. 

But you could not leave the keep without permission. They say it is for your safety but you knew it was to stop you from running away. With a deep breath, you went to find your husband. This time every day he would be training in the courtyard with the knights. You walked to the courtyard where he had amassed a group of people. People always wanted to watch him but you never understood. What was the point in watching the same people fake fight every day at the same time? 

You watched him fight off the knights with ease. Despite only having one eye it did not stop him from having reflexes that could rival 20 knights. His fighting was almost like a dance. Every step calculated. His footwork working side by side with his arms. Sword going exactly where it needed to go. He was sweating and you could see his muscles working. Maybe you could see the point in people watching him fight. 

The fight ended and Aemond fought to catch his breath. In the crowd of people, he saw you. You would only be here if you needed something. He sheathed his sword and made his way over to you. There was something about him breathless and sweaty with his gaze focused on you. It made you feel some strange way. Nothing you had felt before.

"Aemond." You were almost breathless yourself when he was finally in front of you. "I would like to go for a ride." He pulled almost an amused face which was lost on you. "The Dragon keepers say my dragon has grown restless. I need to go for a ride."  "She grows restless. Or yourself?" He mused. "Both. So may I?" "As you wish Princess. But allow me to accompany you."  "Oh no. I wouldn't want to take you from your schedule." You tried to wave him off. 

"A good husband always makes time for his wife. Especially if that request is a ride." He almost smirked again.  "What is so funny?"  "Nothing."  "It's something. I'll get it out of you Aemond Targaryen." You pointed a finger at him like old times. "I'm sure you will." He let out a small chuckle. He went to link his arm with yours to walk you to the Dragon Pit, but remembered his vow. Do not touch. One playful conversation in weeks does not mean that changed.

You got yourself ready for your ride. Making sure that everything was fastened tightly. You hugged your dragon apologising it had been so long. When she put her head on top of yours you couldn't help but think of your mother. She would always be with you.

"Are you ready Princess?" Aemond's voice called out. You looked over and saw him ready to climb onto Vaghar. How he managed to claim her as a boy you would never know. You nodded. You got on your own dragon and urged her forward. She almost ran for the door. Once in the air, you felt free. Freer than you had in a long time. There was nothing but you, your dragon and the air.

Well... and your husband but he was flying lower. You could see for miles. You turned your head in the direction you knew to be Dragonstone. What were they doing? How were Joffrey's lessons going? How faired your mother and the babe? How easy it would be to fly back to them. But you could not. You would bring shame to yourself and your family. 

Aemond watched you. He always found himself thinking back to his childhood with you. How you had a dragon and he did not. How you'd promise him that you could fly together one day. And here you were flying together now. But again it was not how he imagined.

You looked down and almost laughed at how small Aemond looked compared to his dragon. His legs straddling the saddle. The way he used his legs to steer the direction he wanted to go. An image flashed in your mind of him straddling you. You shook your head. Where did that come from? The same feeling from the courtyard entered your mind. That strange feeling. You felt yourself move uncomfortably.

"Are you alright Princess?" Aemond called out to you. "Yes quite well. I must have not ridden in so long my legs grow tired." "Shall we retire?" He suggested. "Yes, I think so." You agreed before returning to the Dragon pit.

"Thank you for today Aemond. I appreciated it. If I ever require your services and a ride." You paused waiting for his reaction. "I'll let you know." You don't know why you did it, but it felt so right. Walking away you made sure to sway your hips more than you usually would.

More days passed and you found yourself watching your husband train from a balcony. Always that feeling came to you. What was it? You changed your posture, your thighs rubbing together and something felt good. You did it again and you had to bite your lip. You excused yourself to your chambers. You lay on your bed rubbing your thighs together and it felt amazing. A knock on the door pulled you from your playing and you felt embarrassed. Whatever that was, it was not fit of a lady.

But still, you could not help yourself. From those days on you would excuse yourself while Aemond trained. He would be gone for a few hours every day and in those hours you explored your body. You found all sorts of spots that made you feel good. One day while touching yourself an image of Aemond popped into your head. You imagined your hands were his and your pleasure doubled. You looked at the door longingly hoping he would come in and find you like this but he never did.

After that, everything he did drove you crazy. Even he slouched on a chair drinking from a goblet you wanted to climb onto his lap. You wanted a ride. You wanted one so badly.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You woke first. All night you had dreams of Aemond touching you. There was an ache between your legs that wouldn't go away. You tried pressing your legs together in hopes of something eliminating the feeling but you couldn't. You couldn't touch yourself with him just there. You wanted him to touch you. All you had to do was ask. But what if he didn't want to anymore? What if he had grown accustomed to your mental absence that he did not wish to be with you? You wouldn't blame him. 

Images of him fighting in the courtyard filled your mind. His skill and passion. How sweaty he sometimes got. The way his hair would stick to his forehead. This wasn't helping you. It was making it worse. He was still sleeping soundly next to you. Maybe if you got a bit closer.

You remained on your side facing away from him. For if he woke up you could claim you moved in your sleep. You backed up slowly. You could still hear his deep breathing meaning he was still asleep. You backed up until you could feel his breath on your neck. It sent shivers down your spine. You still did not touch him, however. Now you waited.

It felt like an eternity but eventually, his deep breaths stopped. You obviously had no idea when he opened his eyes as you were facing away from him and also pretending to sleep. But you did hear his involuntary gasp when he noticed how close you were. He did not make a move to touch you but he also did not shy away.

He looked at your sleeping form. You were so close to him. He looked down and saw each of your curves beneath the sheets. He wanted so badly to run his hand down you. Starting from your shoulders, past your stomach, around your hips and your legs. That is when he noticed. It wasn't even his first thought when he saw you this close but now it was his only thought.

How close your ass was to his crotch. His trousers were already tight with it being morning but even more so now. If only you were a small bit closer then he could feel you pressed against him. He could rub himself on you. Your night shift let his imagination run wild. He clenched his fists to his sides. He promised he wouldn't touch you. Maybe he could sneak away. Deal with himself before you wake up. If you noticed and questioned his absence then maybe he could claim early morning training.

Before he could move you grew bored of this position. He had been awake for several minutes and had not made a move. You commended him for keeping his word but his word was not what you wanted right now. You wanted anything but his word. Keeping up the pretence of sleep you turned so now you were facing him. You wished you could have seen the look of shock on his face. If the view from your behind was anything the front was better.

Your hair was a mess. Soft brown curls were on your pillow and over your face. He remembered others calling you names because of your hair but he now knows it is perfect. It is a part of you. His eye travelled further south and landed on your breasts. The position you were in was pressing them together. His fists were almost shaking with how tightly he kept them to his sides.

He closed his eye and began to talk to himself in his own mind. 'She does not want you. She made that clear. She does not want to be touched by you. She wanted a different husband. A different husband who she would have let touch her. A husband who wasn't you. A husband who would know what she felt like... what she tasted like. Does she know? Does she touch herself when I'm not around? Who does she think of? Some lord? Some stable boy who smiles at her every day?' He grew jealous of his own thoughts and opened his eye to be free of them.

When he did he saw your eyes were open. You were looking at him. You had spotted how close you were and you did not recoil. He could see a hint of anger in your eyes. He should have moved away the moment he got the chance but he couldn't. He was so transfixed on looking at you and now you were angry.

He went to back up from you and you moved closer. This puzzled him. "Aemond." Your voice called to him. Far too awake for someone who woke up less than a minute ago. Unless you weren't asleep. "Yes." He answered like a million thoughts were not running around his head. "Touch me. Please Aemond." You almost begged. He was in shock for a moment. Maybe he was still dreaming. The look in your eyes, wasn't anger, not anymore. Your pupils were dilated. He noticed you rubbing your legs together. This was happening.

"What?" He knew exactly what you had said but he wanted to hear you say it again. "Aemond I would like you to touch me. Please. Touch me." You lifted your hand and ran it down his face. He slowly lifted his own hand and placed it on your waist. His eye closed. He had waited so long for this moment.

You sat up from laying down. His hand fell from your waist. His eye shot open. Surely that couldn't have been what you wanted? For him to touch your waist once and be done. He hadn't upset you, had he? His worrying thoughts were gone the moment you swung your leg around him so now you were straddling him. Your bed shift scrupled around your hips. Your legs bare to the side of you. He was reminded that there was nothing under your shift. The only thing separating the two of you were his own clothes.

You both looked at each other frozen in that moment. You had no experience in this field but something drew you to sit in his lap like this and you were glad you did. You could feel every inch of his outline against you and it felt good. But what now? Aemond saw the look of innocence on your face and almost came right there. With both hands, he held onto your hips and dragged you forward. The noise you made would stick with him forever.

It was a mixture of shock and pleasure. You felt a little embarrassed at it. A lady should not make that noise. Before you could say anything Aemond did it again earning the same noise. It felt so good. Maybe if you just... you dragged your own hips forward without his direction and it felt just as good. "Aemond." You said suddenly not knowing any other words. Any you did know were gone.

He sat up changing the position you were in. His chest was pressed against yours. You looked at him under partially closed eyes. You rocked your hips again and your eyes closed fully at the new sensation. Who knew him just sitting up would feel so different to him lying down?

He called out your name and you looked at him. He pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you want this?" He tried to confirm. "Truly." You nodded. He let out a laugh. "I want to hear you say it." "I want you. I want you so bad Aemond." You almost sounded like you were whining. "I have for a while now. I need you." He smiled at you wickedly before his grip on your waist became like iron before it travelled to cup your ass. From this new position, he ground you against him faster and more forcefully. Your eyes rolled backwards as your jaw dropped open.

He placed kisses on your neck enjoying the sounds you were making. He had dreamt of these sounds but they sounded so much better in real life. He nipped and pulled at your flesh with his teeth. His lips went lower but to his dismay, you were still wearing clothes. While your shift had fallen slightly to reveal your shoulders he wanted more than that.

He lifted his hands from your behind and held the edges of your clothes. He looked at you almost asking for permission. You nodded and he pulled it over your head. Now you were in front of him completely exposed. Your nipples hard and the mess you made on his trousers. Wet from where you had been grinding against him. He was in awe of your beauty. You almost hid yourself away from him but before you could he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples which earned him a brand new sound.

He placed one of his hands back into position getting you to grind on him again while the other played with your other breast. You were his. His wife. And the sounds you were making were his too. "Aemond." You called out to get his attention. He looked at you. His own spit coated his lips. He looked so good right now. Although his hair wasn't stuck to his forehead yet. That is what you wanted.

You took his hand from your breast and guided it between your legs. He had seen women at the brothel do this but he didn't know why. You lead his fingers to a sensitive spot and with your guide, he began to rub that spot. "Fuck." You moaned out arching your back. He watched your face crumple up. "How did you know to do that?" He teased going faster. "Have you been touching yourself? Not very ladylike." You nodded. "Tell me. What were you thinking of?"

Your cheeks immediately flooded red. Him. Always him. "Hmmm." He probed for an answer getting faster and faster. "You." You couldn't catch your breath. "You Aemond." You practically shouted. You could feel the familiar feeling in your lower stomach. But there was also something different about it.

"You should have told me. I could have helped you out." He teased more. How long had you been thinking about him? Was it as long as he had thought of you? "I did say all you had to do was ask." You nodded. "Yes, I should have." You agreed. Almost there. "I wanted you so badly. I... I..." your words got caught in your throat. "You what?" "I" was all you managed to get out before your climax washed over you. It was different from usual. Normally your hand would be caught up in your orgasm that you would stop rubbing your clit meaning you would only feel it for a few fleeting moments. But Aemond did not stop. He kept going watching you come undone on top of him. Your whole body shook.

You looked so beautiful in that moment for him. He needed to do this again to you. Now he knew what it was, he needed it again. Once your body stopped shaking and your eyes closed with tiredness he removed his hand. You felt like you might wobble off the top of him. "Ready for my turn Princess?" Whether or not he meant that as a pet name or your official title, you would never figure it out. You gave a nod.

He flipped you over so now you were on the bottom. You were still in a daze. "Look at what you've done to my trousers." He scolded. You looked down and tried to ignore the bulge and only focus on the giant wet patch. Maybe you might have felt embarrassed but you didn't care. "You felt so good." You sounded like you were drunk. Aemond looked down at his wife, delirious and wanting more and he was more than happy to oblige.

He undid the strings that were trying their best to hold his waistband together. His dick sprung free causing him to wince at the sensitivity. He kicked his trousers away and you shot a sneaky look. Obviously, you had already felt it but you didn't imagine it would look like that. All stiff and leaking slightly. "Enjoying the view?" You were caught. Clearly not as sneaky as you thought you were. You nodded and licked your lips.

"I'll go as slow as I can." His voice suddenly went soft. "It might hurt." You nodded at him. He ran his dick up and down your folds a few times to gather your wetness. It sent small shocks down your spine. Was he teasing you? "Aemond?" You questioned. "Just enjoying my wife. The one who said she'd never ask." You bucked your hips up trying to meet him but he held you down easily. You began to squirm underneath him. You felt so empty. You needed him inside you.

"Don't make me beg again. I was wrong. I do want you to touch me. I do." He didn't move. "Aemond." You tried to sound annoyed but you couldn't. He leant his face forward and kissed your lips. It was then you realised that in all of this, you hadn't kissed him yet. This was your first kiss since the wedding and it made you want more. Why had you been missing out on all of this again? His tongue glided against your lips and you knew immediately what he wanted. You opened your mouth and let him in. For a moment you wondered what his tongue would feel like elsewhere. Maybe another time.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. You didn't miss the smile he had as he slipped himself inside you. You gasped into his mouth and pulled your face away. "I've got you." He reassured. "You're okay." You nodded speechless. He slowly moved while kissing you again. Your sounds of discomfort slowly turned back into moans. It was a strange feeling. He was reaching places your fingers could never could. "Faster." You breathed into his ear. He did as asked. 

Your extra sensitivity meant you couldn't last much longer. The sensation in your stomach coming back. When Aemond started making noises you knew he wouldn't last much longer either.  "Aemond." You couldn't help but shout. He began to nod.  "I know. I know." He began to repeat over and over. He kept one hand by your head while his hand went back to the spot you had shown him earlier. The shock of pleasure had your body jolt forward clamping your muscles. Aemond let out his own moan which sent you over the edge for the second time. Your muscles pulsated around him and he finished inside of you. 

He stayed inside of you for a few moments catching his breath before rolling over beside you. You shuffled over to him and put your head on his shoulder. You looked up at him and saw what you wanted. His hair was a mess. You raised your hand and brushed it out of his face. He looked down at you puzzled. You moved your hand.  "What?" You asked suddenly worried that you had done something wrong. He took your hand and held it against his face. He leant into your touch. "What is it Aemond?" You were suddenly concerned. 

He took a deep breath in.  "Nothing." He brushed it off. Letting go of your hand.  "Don't do this Aemond. I'm your wife, as much as I have not acted like it. Please share your thoughts with me."  "I just fear now that you have gotten what you wanted from me, you will leave me."  "Aemond." You sat up brushing your own hair out of your face. You gathered the sheets to cover yourself. "I know what you think of yourself. I see it. You might think you hide it but I've known you my entire life." You turned back around to look at him. "I won't leave you." He didn't look at you, not believing you. 

You leant down to kiss him. You tried to put all of your feelings into the kiss. At first, he did not kiss you back but he got caught up in it.  "You don't need to believe me, at least not at first." You said pulling away. "But I will make sure you know. I will make it up to you. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you." You curled back up into his side. He moved slightly but only to hold you closer. You were in his arms as much as he was in yours. You both drifted off to sleep again. 

You both were woken by knocks at your doors.  "Prince? Princess?" It was your handmaidens.  "Go away," Aemond shouted at them. You giggled at his childishness. You heard the shuffling of feet.  "We should get up." You sighed. "Although I do not wish to." Closing your eyes again.  "We are needed for royal duties." Aemond agreed.  "Do any of your duties include training? I like it when you train." Aemond chuckled.  "Is that so?" You nodded at his question. "Watching you made me realise how badly I wanted you. Watching you sweat and be out of breath. I wanted to do that to you." "I can make it part of my duties. I do need to be ready to always protect the realm. And once I'm done I can find my Lady Wife." 

You pulled away from his arms and tried to get out of bed only to find yourself collapsing under your own weight and back onto the bed.  "It's like I'm on one of grandsire's ships." You giggled. "I might have to stay here all day." You beamed.  "Then how will you watch me train?" Aemond pointed out. You pouted. He kissed you. As he pulled away you pulled him back in for a second one. "I fear I have created a monster." 

"I'd like to say. In the future please feel free to touch me whenever you like. Well... Not whenever. We might cause quite a stir if we do that in court."  "Hmmmm." He traced circles on your side. "I like the idea of us sitting at the presiding table with my hand up your skirt." You shivered.  "Sounds like you've already thought about it." It was your turn to tease. He sat forward, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear.  "Oh, I have Princess. I've thought about many things."  "You should have let me know. I would have helped you." You mirrored his words from earlier. 

The both of you got dressed and Aemond led you by arm to see his sister Helaena and her children. You sat down and smiled at the children. Helaena looked at you once you were alone.  "Hot baths." She said. "Hot baths help with the pain." She went back to sowing while you felt yourself blushing. How she knew, you didn't want to know but you hoped nobody else did. 

You and she walked around the red keep taking the children for a walk. You heard grunting. You looked down into the courtyard and saw your husband and Ser Cole practising with swords. His grunts and breathlessness taking you back to this morning. Almost like he could feel your presence he looked up. He grinned knowing your thoughts. 

He told you, you'd end up married.

[thatsdemko]

don’t go - c.leclerc

masterlist | pairing: Charles Leclerc x gasly!reader

summary: a bad date leads you to a certain asshole in your brothers living room…

warnings: NOT intended for minors(18+) + oral (m receiving) + angst + slightly unedited (potential grammatical errors)

it didn’t have to be so hard to have one successful date, but somehow in the country of Monaco, it was damn near impossible without having to hear some sort of brag about fancy cars and formula one drivers. which funny enough, all of that is what you wanted an escape from. having a brother in the Motorsport meant your whole life revolved around it, and all you wanted was evening where you didn’t have to talk about cars.

“I’m so sorry,” kika softly mutters, her fingers dragging through your hair as you lay your head in her lap, “he sounds like such an asshole.”

you sit up from her lap, taking in the three who sat and listened to your horrific date night: Pierre, your brother—who looks about ready to beat someone up—, kika, who instantly wrapped her arms around you when your stormed in, and Charles. the Ferrari driver who sat silently listening.

“he wasn’t though. he just didn’t need to bring up max verstappen.” you say, the name feeling foreign against your lips. looking across the room, you lock eyes with Charles who shifts rather uncomfortably in his seat, “maybe dating in Monaco is a bad idea.” he suggests.

Pierre barks out a laugh, “and what? just move solely for the men? that’s ridiculous.”

Charles replies with the shrug of his shoulders, “Monaco is all about cars and racing drivers. I’m sorry, y/n, you should expect that.”

“what you should expect is not everyone to want to be involved in this silly little sport, Charles. Monaco doesn’t have to always be about cars and your sport.” kika huffs out rather annoyed at how the conversation has shifted. you would be too, if you weren’t already annoyed about other things— ie: your date.

“he’s being overly dramatic, y/n,” Pierre hisses, his eyes volleying back and forth between his friend and you, “ignore him.”

Charles rolls his eyes mumbling words under his breath no one can make out. the conversation shifted back to you, your brother and his girlfriend consoling you while Charles sits in the corner bored. he’d come over due to Pierre’s invite for dinner, but what he didn’t expect to see was you.

for months you and Charles snuck around sleeping together until one day Charles started publicly dating. you were heartbroken, truly, but you could never show or say why and who had done it to you. the evidence was right under their noses, they just never took the time to look.

“I’m not being overly dramatic,” Charles says rolling his eyes, “I’m being reasonable. I’m sure there are men in Milan for you.”

“what’s up your ass today? seriously, just because she broke up with you doesn’t mean you have to take it out on y/n.”

a smile threatens to tug against your lips. it takes everything in you to turn away from Charles so he doesn’t see your reaction, but he can tell by the crinkles by your eyes. you’re finding this humorous.

“I didn’t come here to get chewed out.”

“well neither did I.” you turn your head back in his direction, eyes sinking in on him, he finds himself back in the uncomfortable gaze.

he hates how intense and blue your eyes get when you narrow in on someone. those ocean blue eyes you have carry a heavy amount of emotion without even having to bat an eyelash.

“let’s just have some more wine.” kika offers rising up off the couch and breaking the growing tension in the room.

“that sounds fine to me.”

—

the night air of Monaco whips your hair around off your shoulders. standing outside, you needed air from Charles and the tension, but it’s seemed to follow you despite your attempts.

“you know, I didn’t mean to behave the way I did,” he starts, closing the gap between you two, standing beside you, “you should be allowed to date someone who knows nothing about max verstappen or even me.”

“but you’re right,” you say. shifting your gaze from the cars that drive the twist and turns of Monaco, you look up at him and into his chocolate brown eyes, “I should expect that here. Monaco is full of drivers and driver wannabes.”

he snorts replaying the words ‘driver wannabes’ in his head, he remembers the days where he was one of those wannabes. time flew for him, and looking at you is the indication of that for him sometimes. your beauty flourished with age, and only seemed to take his full attention more and more as you grew up, and he wished maybe you weren’t trying to avoid the racing scene because he knows you’d be a great couple.

“don’t move to Milan,” he says moving an inch closer, arms brushing against one another. the action is just enough to erupt butterflies in your stomach, “what would I do without you here?” his face inches closer to yours, and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it but his eyes close and his lips softly land agains yours.

pulling away, you wrap your fingers around the curls in his hair and pull him closer to your body, “tell me, what would you do?” you ask, fingers trailing down the length of his body before undoing the button of his jeans, “would you be doing this?” you yank the zipper, take your fingers against the waistband and sink down to the cement while pulling his jeans to his ankles.

“n-no.” he hesitates, eyes flickering over the light inside the apartment for a brief second, but his thoughts vanish feeling your fingers gently graze his cock.

“fuck, y/n.” he whimpers and it’s pathetic but boosts your ego as your lips wrap around his tip.

his body shivers, knees stiff in place feeling your tongue swivel, lips suck him, and teeth gnaw him. how could he ever have thought someone else could do this to him? how could he ever imagine another woman when you’re on your brothers balcony sucking him off.

your nails dug deep into the skin of his hips, you feel him buckle, hips jutting outward. you can’t hear much of him, ears too red at the tips you only hear the sound of the blood rushing, but you know Charles. you know his weakness is you on your knees in front of him.

coming was quick— as he hadn’t been touched in ages like that— it was almost embarrassing for him, but you don’t mind. dusting yourself off, you take the glass of red wine that was sitting on the ledge of the balcony and watch Charles collect himself back to normal, “maybe I won’t go. you’ll miss me too much.” you press a kiss to his cheek before heading inside to find a movie playing.

“what are we watching?” you ask sinking into the cushion beside your big brother.

Charles rejoins, taking a seat beside kika, far enough distance between you. if that was how you were going to play him, like nothing happened, he could do that too.

tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @burberryfilms @imsorare @leclerc13 @smoothopz @lunnnix (sorry I didn’t tag everyone if you want to be tagged in future posts please let me know!)

[kalinysu]

💮 Hello, I was wondering if you could do a muzan × reader where they're married, so he's the demon king and she's the queen, and they have been together way before he was a demon, so he turned her. She's also pregnant, and he won't allow her to go on missions anymore. I would like to know if he would keep her by his side or would he lock her in her room. She can also walk in the sun. Please take your time. 💮

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏. — Muzan x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gentle Muzan with slightly harsh words, stubborn reader.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Very cute request! I’ve never written for Muzan and a pregnant wife, so it should be fun. Might rewrite, this was a little lazy 😭

“Darling, please lay down.” Muzan said with a sigh. You two had been going back and forth all night, and you were keeping him quite busy, busy enough to the point he had to ignore his other tasks and focus on you in the moment. “Stop!! Don’t you have any missions for me to do?— I mean, I can’t just lay here for 8 months straight.” You said, trying to sit up and get out of bed.

Muzan kept you away from the other demons, well more specifically Douma. He was far too handsy with you even if you were of a higher status and deserved just as much respect as Muzan. He preferred keeping you locked inside of his room when he couldn’t have you near him, such as when he worked on experiments or had meetings with the ranks. You were too distracting and required every of his attention, which he was willing to give when you two were alone and he wasn’t busy.

“Woman. Lay down, now.” Muzan said, furrowing his brow a bit. His hands were placed on your shoulders, occasionally switching to your waist, trying to be as gentle as possible with you even if his words weren’t. He let out a exhausted sigh, getting into bed with you. He then wrapped his arms around you, holding you just firm enough so you couldn’t get up from the bed. “Missions—“ You said, still trying to free yourself from his grasps. “Darling, I’ve made it clear that i’m not letting you go on any missions while your pregnant, go to sleep.” He said. He was right, besides, you hadn’t slept in days, but you wanted to do something, anything but be in this room.

“Let go—stop it! Stop!”

Muzan eventually had to lock you up inside of your room, not allowing you out at all. He had practically began to neglect you after the first few days of staying by your side. He did bring you human flesh to eat sometimes, and spend short amounts of time with you before going back to his work. If you got into too much trouble while on your own, he’d have Kokushibo or Akaza watch you. And they watched you like a hawk. They treated you as if you were a human, and any minor injury would be treated majorly.

Muzan wanted to be near you, but he just had too much to do. Today though,Muzan had come to check on you while you were asleep. But when you heard the door open, you forced yourself awake. You felt Muzan pull the blankets over your body completely, before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Muzan..?” You mumbled, turning over to look up at him. He gave you a small smile, before getting into bed beside you. “Upper 1 told me you were crying today. What’s wrong?” He asked, and you could barely believe it. You were about to slap him, but he had caught your wrist. He was just about to lecture and scold you, but you had burst out into tears before he could.

He didn’t know that this was also just your hormones affecting your mood, and thought you were just sad. “Darling, come here.” He said, sitting the both of you up and pulling you closer, allowing you to cry into his chest. “Y-you barely ever stay with me anymore!!” You sobbed, gripping his shirt. “My love, you know I have things to do..” He said, gently stroking your head. He was being honest, but there was another reason. He wasn’t sure how to take care of someone he actually cared for who was pregnant, so he resorted to locking you away to keep you safe and away from others.

“My apologies. I’ll take you with me from now on, how’s that sound, hm?” He asked with a smile when you finally calmed down a bit, tilting your head up to look at him. You sniffled, before nodding, wiping away your tears.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

more than I can resist

pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader x Wonwoo

genre: smut, fluff, poly!au - minors dni.

warnings: threesome, anal sex, oral sex (f and m rec), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, use of petnames (princess, sunshine, pretty boy), sub!reader, switch!wonwoo, switch!cheol, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), manhandling, hair pulling, aftercare

word count: ~3.8k

summary: you love starting your day with your boyfriend and a freshly brewed cup of coffee. but your other boyfriend has a different idea of a perfect morning.

Disclaimer: Both Seungcheol and Wonwoo are depicted as bisexual in the fic, which is used only for the purposes of fanfiction and it is not an assumption of the members' sexual orientation in real life. If you're not comfortable with these themes, then this fic isn't for you.

Author's note: happy holidays beloveds, here's some woncheol filth - big thank you to @gyuwoncheol for betareading (and yelling at me hehe) and to @wooahaeproductions for helping me out with the title!

tagging @onlymingyus @smileysuh @horanghater @shuadotcom @wongyuseokie

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations without permission allowed.

Raindrops clatter on the window, a moody gray color engulfing the bedroom. You swear it makes you want to fall back asleep, but the warmth surrounding and the faint smell of coffee being brewed keep your eyes wide open.

You raise your torso from the bed and notice that your boyfriend is missing - now you know why the smell of coffee lingers in the air.

You push the comforter to the side before stepping on the carpeted floor, but a strong arm tugging at your wrist stops you - the wrist of your other boyfriend.

“Don’t leave yet, I wanna cuddle for a little longer.” Seungcheol pouts, voice still dipped in sleepiness.

“But Wonwoo is already up and making coffee. I don’t want to drink it cold, Cheollie.”

“But cuddles!” The blond man pouts again.

“Sorry, Cheollie, coffee is calling.” You smile softly and get up from the bed, wearing your fuzzy slippers to go to the kitchen.

Seungcheol plops down on the bed, puffing his lips in annoyance. It’s baffling how you’re willing to leave the warmth and coziness of his arms just for a cup of coffee with Wonwoo. Or maybe he’s being dramatic about it.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely delighted to be greeted with Wonwoo’s broad back, clad in a plain white t-shirt. You tiptoe your way behind him and wrap your arms around your waist to back hug him.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He rubs the back of your hand lovingly.

“Good morning, Wonu.” You hum and pat his abdomen. “How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well. Although I wish I didn't have to spend most of the night away from you. Not to mention the amount of times Seungcheol tried to pull you away.” He comments with a small sigh.

“Oh come on, you know he’s clingy in his sleep.” 

“Y/N, clingy is Seungcheol’s middle name.” Wonwoo chuckles as he pours the dark brown liquid in the three matching cups.

“I think that’s one of the many reasons why you love him.” You tease him with a sing-song voice.

“I cannot refute that, I’m afraid.” He passes you the cup with the sun carvings on. “Enjoy the coffee, darling.”

“Thank you baby.” You take a sip and moan in satisfaction when the coffee hits your taste buds. “Perfect as always.”

“And the only thing I’m perfect at-”

“Bullshit!”

“In the kitchen, I mean.”

“Oh. Then yeah, you’re right.” You grin evilly and he swats your arm playfully.

“If you get to be a meanie first thing in the morning, then maybe I should cut down on your coffee privileges.” Wonwoo tilts his head sideways, a cat-like smirk on his face.

“Now who’s the meanie?” You put your coffee down on the counter and rest your fists on your waist.

“Honestly? He’s still sleeping in the bedroom.” Wonwoo deadpans and you snort, trying to suppress your laughter.

“You would have to bear with his pouting for the rest of the month if he heard you say that.”

“And he would get even more annoyed because I know when to not give attention to him.” He gives you a smug answer.

“Is it me or do you have a thing for arguing with Cheol?”

“I do. And frankly, I like him a bit better when he gets frustrated.” 

“Because he looks hot when he’s angry?”

“Exactly.” Wonwoo licks the corners of his lips. “Makes the ordeal a bit nastier, you know?”

“It’s always the quiet ones, I swear.” You roll your eyes and walk away from the kitchen.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To the bathroom. I want to wash my face and do my morning routine. My eyes still feel a bit droopy.” You rub your face with your palms.

“Then stop rubbing your face, you idiot.” He laughs and you wave your hands in defeat, making your way to the bathroom.

Wonwoo is left alone in the kitchen once more and he goes back to enjoying his coffee, back turned against the rest of the living room.

He’s unaware of Seungcheol walking into the kitchen with his signature pout on, the latter feeling sulky from the lack of attention.

But as soon as he notices his boyfriend’s shoulders stretching out the fabric of his tee, the devil on Seungcheol’s shoulder is awakened and ready to take action.

The blond man presses his body on Wonwoo’s back and runs his hands over his sides, making the younger man shiver.

“Shit - you startled me, Cheol!” Wonwoo curses out loud, the half empty coffee cup nearly dropping from his hands.

“You’re one big scaredy cat, aren’t you.” Seungcheol giggles.

“Good morning to you too, I guess.”

“Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s in the bathroom to freshen up a bit.”

“So much for wanting to drink coffee with you.” 

“At least she escaped your clutches.” Wonwoo laughs.

“Gotta live up to my middle name, right?” Seungcheol presses himself a bit harder on Wonwoo, his morning wood trying to make its presence known.

“So you were awake this whole time, huh?” 

“Yeah, but the bed was too warm to not enjoy it.”

“But you got up either way. Can’t live without being the center of our attention, Cheollie?” Wonwoo teases him with the nickname, knowing how much it riles him up.

“You must be in a pretty good mood to be cracking shitty jokes now, Wonu.” Seungcheol’s hand descends towards Wonwoo’s crotch, rubbing him over his sweats. 

“And you must be really thirsty for attention to be pulling tricks like these.” He grips the older man’s wrist, low hiss echoing in the kitchen.

Seungcheol smirks at his reaction and doesn’t stop moving his hand up and down, biting his bottom lip when Wonwoo grips the counter a bit tighter.

“Losing your composure already? I thought you were stronger than that.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah ah, pretty boys like you shouldn’t say bad words.” 

A shiver runs down Wonwoo’s spine when he hears the pet name, hips bucking into Seungcheol’s hand.

“Seems like you’re the one who needs attention, Wonu.” The blond man chuckles in his ear.

“Oh my God, just stop talking and keep touching me, please.”

Seungcheol takes his hand away and turns Wonwoo around, pinning him to the counter. He might not be taller, but he’s definitely stronger and he will always find a way to use his strength to his advantage.

“Whoever did your hair last night deserves an award.”

"T-Thanks. Wish I was here with the two of you, not at some boring business dinner." 

"It's okay, Wonu. You've worked hard and it's reward time, pretty boy." 

Seungcheol drops down on his knees and unties the string of Wonwoo's sweats, pulling them down with his boxers. His cock springs free, already hard and leaking precum.

"Were you dining with your colleagues with such a boner? I almost feel sorry for you." He rubs his fingertip over the shaft and around the bulbous head.

Wonwoo turns his head away, cheeks flushed and biting the back of his hand to drown any noise that threatens to spill.

"Gosh, you're so hot when you're shy." Seungcheol breathes out and wraps his puffy lips around the tip, giving it light sucks before deepthroating Wonwoo's cock in one go.

If there’s one thing Seungcheol is good at, it’s oral sex - no matter who’s on the receiving end in your relationship, he will leave you with jelly legs.

“C-Cheol, slow down a little.” Wonwoo immediately puts his hands in his boyfriend’s hair, nearly fisting the blond strands. Seungcheol pulls away his lips with a loud, almost vulgar ‘pop’. He 

“I can go slow. But no promises on how long I’ll be able to keep it that way, pretty boy.” He chuckles before spitting on his fingers and moving them behind Wonwoo.

“Y-You don’t have to d-do this.” 

“One of us is gonna get fucked in the ass very soon and it won’t be me.” Seungcheol kisses the tip of Wonwoo’s cock and carefully slides one finger past his rim, 

“You almost sound d-disappointed.” The younger man shudders and clenches around the thick digit.

“Me? Not at all, pretty boy. But you must be disappointed, since you’re so obsessed with my ass.”

“Not my fault you’re so t-thick everywhere, fuck.”

“Aww, are you jealous, Wonu?” Seungcheol grins against Wonwoo’s cock, adding a second finger in his hole. “You shouldn’t be, though - Your body is really hot, in its own way.”

“T-Tell me more.” Wonwoo moans and grips the blond hair.

“Where should I even begin from? Your strong, broad shoulders? Your pretty collarbones?” Seungcheol showers him with compliments, his free hand coursing over Wonwoo’s body, reaching to his waist and gripping it tight. “Or your slutty little waist?” 

Wonwoo loses his patience and thrusts his cock in the older man’s mouth, both hands glued on his head to keep it in place and fuck it relentlessly. His round glasses are already fogged up and sliding down the bridge of his nose. The two fingers haven’t stopped toying with his hole, his sensitivity skyrocketing.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, God, I’m so close!” Wonwoo throws his head back, mouth wide open and tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Seungcheol hums affirmatively and hollows his cheeks around the shaft, the tip being pushed all the way down his throat. Wonwoo’s orgasm is strong enough to make him lose his balance, but the strong arm around his waist holds him up. The man on his knees swallows every single drop of semen, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down rhythmically. A few seconds later, he detaches his mouth and fingers, breathing heavily. His half-lidded eyes staring at Wonwoo with heavy lust.

“Ahem.”

Your voice interrupts the two men and Wonwoo tries to pull up his sweats hastily.

“Don’t bother. You won’t need them anyways.” You shake your head in dismissal.

“Hey princess.” Seungcheol gets up and licks his fingers clean with a smug smile on his face.

“You seem awfully awake for someone who wanted cuddles just a few minutes ago.” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“And you seem awfully jittery, princess. What’s wrong, hm?”

“Cheol, stop teasing her.” Wonwoo huffs.

“It’s okay, Wonu. I was heading to the bedroom anyway.” You shrug and leave the kitchen, making a turn for the bedroom. The two men peek their heads and see you throw your (Wonwoo’s) t-shirt right on the doorstep and Wonwoo pushes Seungcheol out of the way, running back to the bedroom, the older man’s laugh echoing behind him.

A grin creeps on your lips when Wonwoo’s arms wrap around your midriff and his lips attach themselves to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck.

“You seem to be pretty riled up.” You murmur and push your ass on his crotch.

“Cheol’s fault.” He murmurs back and turns you around, pushing you softly on the bed to climb on top of you. “But you’re not innocent either, sunshine.”

“I know. That’s why we’re here now, right?” You toy with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah. And I cannot wait to fuck you, sunshine.” He grazes his teeth over your pulse point, hands groping your underwear - clad body.

“Not so fast, pretty boy.” Seungcheol leans against the door frame. “I call the shots here.”

“Can you not ruin the moment for once? I missed her last night and I wanna have my time with her.” 

“You will.” H He walks behind Wonwoo and threads his hand in his hair, pulling it back harshly as he presses his lips on the shell of his ear. “As long as you do as I say, that is.”

“Cheol-” You open your mouth to speak. 

“Princess. Behave.” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you pipe down, waiting for his orders. Seungcheol hums in approval and lets go of Wonwoo’s hair, who lets out a loud hiss.

“Lay on your back, pretty boy. Need you to put that mouth of yours into good use.” He orders while undressing himself till complete nakedness.

“And why should I do that?” Wonwoo scoffs in an attempt to challenge Seungcheol.

“You said you wanted to have your time with Y/N, didn’t you? You’re gonna let her sit on your face and she’s gonna use her pretty mouth for something else.”

“Damn it.” The younger man curses and strips down as well, following Seungcheol’s orders. He lies down on the bed and Seungcheol pats your thigh for you to get naked and climb over Wonwoo’s face.

“Hey sunshine.”

“Hey Wonu.” You giggle while peering your eyes down to him, his lips peppering kisses on your inner thighs.

“Eyes on me, princess.” Your other boyfriend yanks your hair back, forcing your gaze on him. “Hands down on the mattress.” 

You do as he says and you’re now on the same level as Seungcheol’s cock, the thick shaft mere centimeters away from you. You open your mouth to stretch your tongue and lick the tip, but Wonwoo wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you down on his face to eat you out. You cry out when his tongue slides across your slit, flattening it over your clit and turning it pointy when it reaches your entrance. 

“What’s wrong, princess? Does the pretty boy’s mouth feel good?” Seungcheol caresses your cheek and you nod affirmatively.

“Can’t have you all fucked out already.” He taps his cock on your cheek and you desperately chase his shaft with your mouth. He puts you out of your misery by sliding his cock down your throat, making you gag with his size. You're glad you've trained yourself (with the help of your boyfriends) to suppress your gag reflex when one of them is fucking your mouth. 

You let Seungcheol take control of your head and use it like a fucktoy to satisfy the raging erection, all while Wonwoo eats your pussy like it's the last meal he will ever enjoy on this futile planet. His hands roam your body, fingertips gliding over your hips, waist and gripping your breasts.

Your eyes flutter dangerously, hands fisting the sheets underneath you, as you let yourself enjoy what you're being provided by the loves of your life.

"Mmm, always so good at sucking dick, princess.” Seungcheol juts his hips in your mouth, loving the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You want to bob your head on your own on his cock, but the hand in your hair stops you from doing so. Instead, you ride out your frustrations on Wonwoo’s face, who doesn’t seem to mind you using him for your own pleasure.

“Pretty boy is doing a good job, isn’t he, princess?” Seungcheol slides out his cock and taps it over your cheeks, leaving wet trails of spit on your face.

“His mouth is so fucking good, Daddy.” You moan in response.

“Is that so? Is he taking care of your needy pussy?”

“Yes, he’s so good!” You dig your nails in the bed.

“He can be even better with his dick, princess. Hop off.” 

You whine in protest, but one raised brow from the blond man is enough to make you follow his orders, your other boyfriend grunting in annoyance.

“Lay on your back, princess. And pull your legs up to your chest.”

“Do you ever want to just go with the flow?” Wonwoo sits up and throws a nasty glare towards Seungcheol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No.” The older man says curtly and grabs Wonwoo by the arms, turning him around to face you and he pushes him on top of you.

“Fuck! Sorry, sunshine.” Wonwoo puts his hands on each side of your head to not crush you with his weight. “I guess someone is impatient.”

“Yeah, I am.” Seungcheol slaps his ass and kneads the flesh with his hands. “But I’m sure our dear princess is impatient as well and she would love to be stuffed full with your cock. Isn’t that right, princess?”

You nod fervently and you buck your hips directly on Wonwoo’s crotch and he moans, gripping his shaft with one hand to guide it to your entrance. A blissful sigh escapes his lips when he slides inside your pussy, enjoying your tight warmth.

“Good, stay still, pretty boy.” Seungcheol bites his bottom lip as he reaches for the lube in the drawer of the nightstand and he opens the cap to spritz a generous amount over his fingers. He carefully spreads it over his boyfriend’s ass, sliding two fingers to check whether he’s loose enough to take something bigger.

Wonwoo shudders on top of you and slowly moves his hips to start fucking you, but Seungcheol grips his waist to stabilise him.

“I said. Stay still.” He aligns the tip of his cock with the hole and pushes in with careful motions, until he’s completely sheathed in. 

“Fuck, oh fuck.” Wonwoo digs his nails in the mattress, trying his best to accommodate the stretch.

“Wonu, are you okay?” You pet the back of his hair.

“Y-Yeah, more than okay.” 

A fluid thrust from behind makes him groan again and jerks his entire body forward, resulting in a strong thrust in your cunt. You let out a gasp in response and your eyes notice the mischievous glint in Seungcheol’s eyes. He sends you a wink before he starts rutting his hips faster.

The force he exerts in fucking Wonwoo results in you getting fucked with the same pace. Both you and Wonwoo let out obscene noises in unison, your hands flying to his back.

“Your cock feels so damn good, Wonu.” You dig your nails in his back.

“God, I can’t even f-focus on what feels better right now.” He moans back and ducks his head in the crook of your neck.

“Stop being shy, pretty boy.” Seungcheol pulls Wonwoo’s hair and lifts his head to let you take a better look of his expression.

You clench around Wonwoo’s cock when your eyes fall on his flushed face and messed up hair, sweat beads forming on his forehead and eyebrows.

“How does he look, princess?”

“Fucking beautiful, Cheollie.” You whine and Wonwoo bucks his hips harder in you, pushing your body closer to the foot of the bed. 

“Pretty boy loves being praised.” Seungcheol’s thrusts take a rougher turn and snaps his pelvis almost mercilessly.

“Yes, yes I do, fuck. Harder!” The younger man begs in an embarrassing way.

“God, you sound so pretty when you beg.” You whisper loud enough to be heard in the room and smash your lips on his, your hands now moving to cup his jaw. Your tongue mingles with Wonwoo’s, sucking it passionately until you feel him whine in your mouth repeatedly. A sudden wave of sticky warmth floods your walls and you realize that your boyfriend just came inside you without a warning. 

“Mffh- ah, fuck, I’m sorry, sunshine…” He pants heavily, cock still twitching inside you as he grinds slowly. 

“Don’t worry, Wonu.” You stroke his cheek while he desperately tries to make you cum. “Can you please make me cum?”

“Shit, anything for you, sunshine.” He slides his hand between your bodies to search for your clit and rub it in rapid circles.

“How did I get so damn lucky with the two of you?” Seungcheol peers down on you as he pets Wonwoo’s hair a bit softer this time, the contrast between his hand and his hips staying sharp.

“C-Cheol, p-please.” 

“Hang in there, pretty boy, almost there.”

Seungcheol’s hand glides over Wonwoo’s spine until it grips on the other side of his waist and keeps him steady to deliver a few more thrusts. He throws his head back in bliss as the climax hits him, his heavy cock unloading globs of cum inside.

“Fucking perfect ass, so damn tight.”

Wonwoo’s head dips in your neck again as he lets out a loud sob and cums inside you again, but his hand doesn’t falter on your clit and you scream when your own orgasm crashes on you, hands struggling to find something sturdy to hold onto.

Your body decides to fall limp on the bed with Wonwoo right on top of you, who is still breathing heavily due to his consecutive orgasms.

Seungcheol slowly retracts his cock and lays on top of the two of you, catching his own breath.

“I can’t fucking move.” Wonwoo grunts.

“Me neither.” You agree in a split second.

“Did so well for me, darlings.” Seungcheol pats your thigh while pressing a kiss on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Thank you Cheollie. Could you two please get off me now? You’re literally crushing me.” You complain to your boyfriends.

“Sorry, princess.” He laughs and sits back on the bed, allowing Wonwoo to roll on his back.

“Thank you. Can someone carry me to the bathroom now? My legs are ruined.” 

“Abusing your princess rights, aren’t you?” The older man quirks his brow.

“Are you gonna refuse?”

“Never.” He picks you up in bridal style and carries you towards the bathroom, your giggles echoing in the corridor.

About ten minutes later, you’re happily soaking in the tub, filled with warm water and a lavender scented bath bomb, all while Seungcheol walks back to the bedroom to check up on Wonwoo.

“Do you need help?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Just…give me a few minutes.”

“Fucked you real good, huh?”

“Not as bad as the sheets, but I digress.”

“The sheets aren’t as tight as you or Y/N, but I digress.” The blond man smirks.

“I swear to God, I’ll get back at you for this.” Wonwoo groans, trying to stretch out his legs so he’ll be able to walk all the way to the bathroom.

“Hm, really? And how are you going to do it, huh? By trying to tie me up?” Seungcheol taunts him with a cocked eyebrow.

“That’s not a bad idea actually, given how squirmy you get when your ass gets pounded from behind.” Wonwoo licks his bottom lip.

“Are you that obsessed with my ass, Wonu?”

“More like obsessed with the mental image of railing you like a bitch in heat.” 

Seungcheol lets out a dirty laugh, shaking his head as he heads out of the room. 

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy. That ass can handle more than you can think of.” He punctuates his words by landing a slap on his ass and sending a wink to his boyfriend.

Wonwoo plops back on the bed and looks up at the ceiling, a grin plastered on his face.

He can’t wait for that day to come.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

body piercer!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, modern au, no outbreak au

word count: 4.7k

summary: you finally go and get your nipples pierced.

warnings: reader has tattoos & has flat/small nipples which is the only physical description in this fic, nipple play, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel miller with a tongue piercing, lots of teasing, sexual tension, tattoo kink??? joel is really into them

a/n: this fic literally wouldn't exist if not for @swiftispunk's fic flesh and metal after reading it and screaming about it (and also reading articles about it) this fic was born, enjoy xx

special thanks to @johnwatsn for the beta! 💞

It’s late. The faint buzz of the neon sign is loud in your ears, taunting, mocking you for just staring inside instead of going in. Your face is illuminated with a red hue, the words BODY PIERCING burning into your irises. And despite the tacky neon sign, the inside looks quite clean. You would know, you’ve been stalking their Instagram page for a while now. 

There’s no one inside and you’re contemplating whether or not you should just get on with it. The idea of getting your nipples pierced had been a vague thought until recently. You desperately needed a change, you wanted something new and exciting. You wanted to feel sexy again. Your ex had certainly done a decent amount of damage to your self-esteem and that, plus your already low view of yourself, did not help your brain to see the good of you. 

So many things could go wrong, you’ve read multiple articles about it. Your body might reject the piercing, it might leave a scar, irritate it. . . 

G Suddenly, a brisk burst of frigid air gently caresses your cheeks, causing you to instinctively step back. Your gaze swiftly shifts from the interior of the shop to the door, where you notice that someone has just opened it, allowing the chilly air from the air conditioning inside to spill out.

Joel Miller, the shop's number one body piercer. Your cheeks burn, your pulse quickens, the sound of it flooding your ears. He’s tall and broad, his brown eyes staring at you with utter amusement. As you continue to just blatantly stare at him, he cocks his head to the side with a crooked smile. 

“I’m closin’ in half an hour, sweetheart. If you’re thinkin’ of comin’ in, I’d do it now.” 

“O–Oh,” you swallow thickly. “I can come back tomorrow if you’re closing up, sorry to bother you.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his smile falling, “Well, I didn’t quite say that, now, did I?” Come on in, darlin’. Tell me what you need.” 

Tell him what you need—your heart beats in your throat, the lazy drawl of his words going directly between your legs. You mentally curse at yourself. How touch-starved are you? He’s just being polite. You’re the customer, it would’ve been weird if he just shooed you away. 

Joel takes a step to the side, silently granting permission for you to enter. You stroll past him, making your way inside without uttering a word. The air conditioning is a blessing on your sweat-soaked skin. Even though you don’t have to, you briefly look at your surroundings. Just like your research had entailed, the shop was squeaky clean. 

“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What can I do you for, sweetheart?” 

Some part of you wishes that he could just understand without you having to form the words. You lick the back of your teeth, suddenly it’s very hard to breathe. 

“I. . . wanted to get my nipples pierced—if that’s okay?” 

“Of course, it is,” he smiles, much softer compared to his crooked smirk from before. “I’m Joel by the way,” he extends his hand and you take it with a sigh of relief, you feel much lighter now— 

“I know.” 

Your eyes go wide, both your hands stopping mid-shake. Joel’s amused glance is back again, his smile stretching into a grin, “You know?” 

“I mean—well, I did research before I came here,” you answer quickly, aggressively almost, and release his hand. His grin only wides, a puff of air escaping his nostrils. “So that’s how I know your name.” 

“Aren’t you the cautious one,” he turns on his heel and points towards the back. “If you’re set on what you want we can just head inside, I can explain the rest there.” 

“Sure.” 

Just as you both take a step you remember what you initially wanted to ask before going through with it and stop. Joel senses your lack of movement, turning around, you notice the furrow between his brow. “I actually wanted to ask something before we went on with it.” 

“I’m all ears.” 

Oh god, this is embarrassing, “So. . . my nipples are. . .flat—or is it more proper to call it small? I don’t know. Would that be an issue?” 

The glimmer in his eyes returns full force, his expression of worry melting away, “I’ve never met a nipple I couldn’t pierce,” he teases. “So no need to worry that pretty head of yours.” 

“Do you sweet talk with all your clients?” you ask, your lips twitching into a smile. You don’t know what it is, but you feel comfortable with him. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stalking his shop for so long. Either way, it’s a nice feeling. 

“Only with the ones that know my name before I meet them.” His eyes gradually move up and down your body, eating you up. His tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip. You notice the faint shimmer that belongs to a silver tongue piercing. “And the ones that’ve been starin’ into my shop for least an hour.” 

Joel takes a step closer and you feel your breath dissipating from your lungs. Dark, charcoal eyes sweep across your face. Your heartbeat is like a fearful hummingbird, hitting the bone cage in rapid succession. You swallow. By some miracle, you hold his gaze. 

“You ready to go, little rabbit?” 

All the tension drains from your bones and you burst out laughing, “Rabbit?” you giggle, your amusement only growing when you see his wide smile. “What the hell?” 

“There’s that pretty smile,” he hums, pulling back. Joel stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Now that you’re relaxed we can get to business. We can stop whenever, so don’t feel pressured when you’re in the chair. You can just leave.” 

You nod along as you follow him inside. You’re relieved when you see that it’s a spacious room with bright lighting that doesn’t irritate your eyes. 

“First things first, let's pick out the piercing.” Joel walks towards one of the small glass cases and pulls out one of the drawers. Your excitement builds as he presents them to you. “Any ticklin’ your fancy?” 

The light above gleams against the glass, there are so many and for a split second, you want them all. You never thought you would be labeling piercings as pretty. Looking them over, you decide you definitely want barbells instead of hoops. Now the question is which barbell one do you want? 

“So many,” you mutter, eyes scanning over them again and again. You see one that says ‘cum here’ on each heart-shaped barbell. There’s a couple of them that say different things; kiss here, bite me, lick me— a shudder rolls down your spine. Your mind instantly fills with indecent thoughts, most of them staring at the man still patiently holding the glass case. You bite the inside of your cheek. 

You bet he has the most skillful tongue—

“Oh, that one!” you exclaim suddenly, pointing at one in the shape of a heart. It’s decorated in shimmering rhinestones, the metal gold. When he inserts it, the heart would be framing your nipple. “It’s so cute.” 

“You like shiny things, huh?” he smiles. “You gotta good eye, it’ll look good on you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat, “Thanks.” 

“Now lay on the bed, darlin’.” 

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the piercing bed. You’re about to lay on it before he stops you with a raised hand. “Take off your top.” 

“Most guys buy me dinner first.” 

“Har har very funny,” he rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, which in return makes you lightheaded. The expression is like a drug and you want to see more of it. More and more and more. “Besides, if you have a flat nipple I’m gonna need to stimulate it.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Joel is unaware of your blundering, he arranges the fresh, disposable drape and sterile forceps, placing it on the small portable workstation, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I can use the suction device too,” he answers nonchalantly. You watch breathlessly as he pulls on his black rubber gloves and finally turns to you. He raises an eyebrow. “Why’s your top still on?” 

“I—I just wasn’t aware nipple play was involved.” 

“You do realize where you’re gettin’ pierced right?” his lips twitch up. “You’re not drunk, are you sweetheart?” 

“Very funny,” you answer, mimicking his tone from before. “But anyway, okay, I guess I’m just a bit nervous.” 

“Understandable,” you point towards the endless draws. “Want me to get the suction device?” 

“God, no,” you let out a low chuckle. “Your fingers are just fine.” 

“Never had any complaints before.” 

Your stomach jumps, arousal caressing your skin similar to a summer breeze. The darkness in his eyes is back, his gaze intense and nerve-wracking. 

“Will it hurt?” you mumble. 

“I ain’t gonna lie so yeah, it will.” 

“How much?” 

“Depends, really.” 

Your shoulders drop. 

“Mine didn’t hurt that bad, to be honest, but my pain tolerance is quite high,” he mutters to himself rather than to you. He follows up with another sentence, probably something to soothe your worry but your brain is locked on to something very specific he just said. 

“You have nipple piercings?” you ask incredulously. “Really?” 

“I do, though it was more of a bet kind of situation. My brother loooves causing me trouble,” he sighs and crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. “But joke’s on him because I liked how they looked so I kept them.” 

“Can. . . Can I see?” 

“You gonna be a good girl and keep still when I pierce you?” Joel teases. You nod furiously, lips pressed tightly together. “A’right then.” He curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifts it. Your eyes are glued to his chest—his entire torso. You see the way a soft trail of draw hair starts from his bellybutton and disappears under his jeans, you see the soft swell of his stomach, the muscle—your eyes move up, you finally see his nipples, pierced, just like he said, with silver barbells. You lean closer, your ass at the very edge of the piercing bed. 

Joel suddenly drops his shirt, hiding away, he shrugs, “Nothin’ fancy, but still, I like’em,” saying that, he takes a seat on his chair and sways a bit thanks to the wheels underneath.

“Do—” you lick the back of your teeth. “Do they make it more sensitive?” 

His smirk makes your heart skip a beat, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he points to your shirt. “Now off.” 

Without a word, you peel off your shirt and unhook your bra. Joel’s eyes widen momentarily, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare torso. You’re confused for a moment. Surely, in his line of work, he’s seen many tits before— 

Then you realize he’s staring at your tattoos. 

You don’t have many, though you guess compared to others you do have many. Joel’s gaze lingers on your chest piece, two hands reaching towards each other with the sun and moon in between, decorating the dip between your breasts without going too deep. The blood rush of your body fills your ears, and your lips part with a gasp, his eyes instantly snap to your lips. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. 

“Didn’t know you were tattooed, darlin’.” 

“You like tattoos?” you ask, your voice hoarse and barely there. “I have more on my back.” 

You swear his pupils dilate, “I’d love to see them after. If you’ll let me.” 

“Sure,” you answer with a weak smile. “I don’t see a reason not to.” 

He wheels closer, eyes dropping to your breasts. You look away. Your cheeks feel unreasonably warm despite the air conditioning running. Goosebumps blossom over every patch of skin. His mouth is too close, the warmth of his breath fans your chest, a pleasant tingle echoing over your breasts. 

You’ve always felt a bit awkward about your nipples. They always seemed silly compared to your breast size, especially when you started seeing other nipples. 

“I’m gonna touch you now,” he says softly, dragging you away from your thoughts. “I’m gonna massage it a bit to work it out, a’right?” 

You nod and hold your breath simultaneously. He does your right nipple first. Just like he said, he massages the flesh closest to your nipple, easing it out. It feels good, undeniably so. The pads of his fingers work delicately. Deep down you wish he didn’t have to wear the gloves. Your body aches for his heat, his bare touch on your naked skin. Joel pinches a bit hard and you flinch, he mumbles an apology. You don’t have it in you to tell him that it didn’t actually hurt, rather, it felt good. 

Soft whimpers threaten to escape your lips so you bite into the bottom one, hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing with deep inhales. His thumb swipes over your, now hard, nipple. “There we go,” he says. 

You don’t open your eyes. Pain blossoms from the flesh of your lips, you feel them starting to swell. 

“Hey,” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face, then you feel his thumb easing out your lips from between your teeth. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. Are you okay?” 

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re just turned on? That this has been the most action you’ve had in months? 

“I’m okay,” you answer. His brows furrow in disbelief and you can’t really blame him. You let out a long sigh. “I’m fine, I promise. I just got a little worked up.” 

“Worked up?” His smile is back and in response, you want to bury your head in the sand. “What d’you mean?” 

His hand slides to your waist, squeezing it gently. You stick your bottom lip out. “You know what I mean.” 

“Hmmm, maybe,” his voice drips with cruel teasing, his thumb begins to draw lazy circles around your skin. You think he’s going to say something else but his gaze once again drops to your chest. “Looks like it disappeared, gonna need to work it out again.” 

You expect his fingers—maybe for him to pinch a bit harder this time. 

What you don’t expect, however, is his burning mouth on your cold skin. 

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, your body instinctively arching towards him. He groans as a response, taking more of you into his mouth. His tongue flicks your peaked nipple. You feel his teeth nipping the tender flesh and you gasp once more, a sharp moan rattling in your throat. 

His eyes look up at you, momentarily he parts away, his lips are swollen, spit glistening at his lips, “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

And he continues to devour you. 

Your fingers bite into the leather bed, he laps at the pebbled flesh, purposefully rubs the tongue piercing into it. The sudden hardness of metal makes you jump and then melt into it, he repeats the movement of his tongue again and again, swirling it until your thighs start to shake. His hands briefly move to your tattoo, thick fingers dancing along the ink. 

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, directing his attention to your other nipple. He flicks at it first then closes his lips around it. Your underwear is sticky with slick, your legs in constant motion to relieve some of the tension from your throbbing clit. He cups your mound, presses his fingers into your clothed slit. “Be patient, I’m gettin’ there.” He sucks on your nipple and teases the other with his fingers, pinching and pulling them. 

“Won’t be able to do this when we pierce them,” he growls, teeth sinking into your nipple, he flicks his tongue over it. “And you better not let anyone else touch’em too.” 

Your head falls back with a groan. He flicks his tongue again when you grind into his palm, the friction not enough to quench your need for him. You grip his shoulder, urging him to move back. He does. You immediately feel guilty at the worry crossing his eyes. 

You grip his shirt, slightly sliding it up his stomach, “Can I see how sensitive you are?” 

A brush of color spreads from his neck to his cheeks. You smile. Red looks good on him. 

He stands up, the chair wheeling away. Joel is quick to discard his shirt and you’re glad that the piercing bed makes it so that you’re in perfect tasting range. You spread your legs wider as he comes closer, taking his place between them. His skin touches your own, his warmth overwhelming yet welcomed. 

You kiss his neck first. Then his collar bone, you suck on his skin, teasing the sensitive flesh with your teeth. He shudders. Slowly you make your way down, your thumbs push at the pierced nipples and he moans behind gritted teeth. Smiling sweetly at him, you swirl your tongue around one, playing with the other. Your tongue moves over the bead of the piercing, you tilt it which in return twists the nipple. Another tremble overwhelms him, his body curling around you even further. The outline of his cock is prominent through his jeans, his body impulsively grinding against your stomach. You moan at the hardness, and he moans at the pressure. 

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he rasps, hips jerking. “But let’s take care of you now, I bet your panties are soaked, darlin’.” 

Fuck, it is. 

Joel drags his lips down your cheek, he kisses your neck slowly, the metal on his tongue forcing a shudder up your spine and making you curious about how it’ll feel on your cunt. 

“Want to eat you out from behind, sweetheart, wanna see those tattoos.” 

His hands are a constant on your skin as you hop off the bed and bend over, he helps you with your jeans, reaching around and unbuttoning it for you. The fabric suddenly feels too tight on your skin and you need to get rid of it—now. 

The harsh fabric pools at your ankles and you kick them away. His fingers play with the elastic of your underwear, pulling and twisting. The heft of him rubs between the crease, thick cock straining against his zipper. You expect him to take off his jeans too. Your piercer is full of surprises, though, and instead of doing the predictable thing, he continues to roll his hips whilst tracing the pads of his fingers over tattoos. 

“Fuck, they’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His touch is ticklish, yet arousing at the same time. More slick gathers at the fabric. You’re desperate for his touch. By the movement of his fingers you guess which of them he’s stroking. First, it’s the fox that stretches over your spine, beams of sun framing its face. Then it’s the smoke-like lines that are closer to your shoulder and the other one near your hip. Joel can’t seem to get enough of it. His palms are flat against inky skin, trying to feel the thought of you while you got them. 

You gasp at the touch of soft lips and soft tongue. He licks a slow line up your spine, tracing over the fox and sunlight. By pure instinct you bend over further, your breasts completely pressed against the leather. You’ve never been more glad to have tattoos in your goddamn life—he’s worshipping them, the figures that adorn your skin. 

His velvet tongue is replaced by sharp teeth, your back arches, ass pressing further into his clothed cock. Joel trembles and follows your eager movements with another tender bite. 

“I love them,” he mouths over the inky smoke near your shoulder. “I love feeling you, touching you. I could just do this for hours. You feel amazin’ against my skin, my sweet little rabbit.” 

This time you don’t laugh at the absurd nickname. His name drips from your damp lips like honey, sweet to say and sticking to your tongue. 

His hand dips between your legs and his mouth moves down to your ass, he kisses the plump flesh as two fingers stroke you from over the fabric of your underwear. His groan reverberates on your skin, teeth skimming the flesh, “Fuck, you actually are soaked,” Joel hums and slips them under, gathering you around his fingers. “All this for me?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, raising your hips. “P-Please—”

Joel shushes you, “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he gets down to his knees and as he does, a small grunt leaves his lips. 

“Are you okay?” you ask. 

“Just fine,” he kisses your pussy and you’re instantly melting towards his mouth, a groan ripping from your throat. “A sacrifice I’m willin’ to make.” 

Joel doesn’t give you the chance to reply or offer to change positions, he slides your panties to the side, licking into you hungrily. You shudder and your upper body jolts, forming the perfect arch. He presses deeper. Licking and teasing your clit with the tip. He cups both sides of your ass and gives them a gentle smack. Your eyes roll at the mild pain, your slick coating his lips, tongue, and chin. The rough hairs of his beard chafe your skin, only adding to the pleasure. 

“Taste so good, beautiful,” Smack. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, make you come until there’s a goddamn puddle on the floor.” 

“Oh god—” you choke on air, a moan locking in your throat the same time you’re trying to gasp for air. His words and the swirl of his tongue are downright sinful. He flattens his tongue and parts your folds with the soft muscle, teasing your entrance. 

Joel pulls you back against him, his lips teaching your clit, your jaw drops, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you and tightening your nipples. It’s filthy, that’s all you can think. If someone walked through those doors right this instant, they would see his face between your cheeks, drinking from you like a man dying of thirst. 

Your head drops, mouth flooding with saliva, you roll your hips; begging, asking for more. He gives it to you. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, his mouth leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on your ass. 

“Gonna come for me?” he asks, voice full of gravel. “Come on, give it to me, let me see how your pussy throbs, sweetheart.” 

He curls his fingers and you imagine him smirking as he breaks you apart. You cry out his name, your entire body shuddering as if lightning struck it, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. . .” He continues to thrust his fingers in and out, you feel yourself dripping, imagine yourself making a puddle just like he asked for. “Give it to me, honey. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, look at you. . .” 

Joel spreads you with his fingers and delves back into you, he draws circles around your clit, his jaw constantly moving with every lick. He doesn’t stop until he’s coaxing another orgasm out of you—your head fills with bliss, your body lifeless. 

When he’s done feasting, he slowly gets up with his hands sliding to your back. He leans down to pepper more kisses onto your tattoos, your skin tingling and singing at the contact. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, lips sucking at your neck. “Then let’s get those pretty nipples pierced.” 

“W—What about you?” you ask breathlessly. 

Joel helps you sit back up on the bed, you part your legs so he can come closer, he accepts the invitation with a wide smile, “I have a feelin’ we’ll be seein’ more of each other, sweetheart. You can make it up to me then.” 

Your heart skips a beat and your lips part. 

You have a strong feeling that he’s right. 

With gloved hands, Joel carefully opens a sterile needle package. You watch with rapt attention as he takes out the fresh needle, inspecting it. Your body is still thrumming with pleasure, your head still swimming in a daze. All you can hear is his breathing.

He had already walked you through everything while preparing for the procedure. No touching, no swimming. You had to clean them softly in the shower and that was meant to be the only source of water your nipples touch for a while. If there was any irritation or marks, you were to reach out immediately. 

Honestly, you found it cute that he’d gotten so serious all of a sudden. It was nice to see him so professional too, so competent. 

He comes closer and your body seizes. You hold your breath. With a sudden need to distract yourself, your eyes linger on to the walls. Your brows furrow in surprise when you notice the tattoo designs. You thought this was only a piercing shop. 

“You do tattoos too?” you ask nervously. 

“My brother does,” he answers. “He works the tattoo side of the business and I do the piercings.” 

“It’s nice that it’s in the family. . .” 

“Sweetheart, I know what you’re doin’. You’ll be fine I promise.” 

“Okay. I trust you mister man-I-just-met.” 

He grins, “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it ten minutes ago.” 

“Touché.” 

Joel prompts you to lay on the piercing table, he approaches you with a reassuring smile on his face. You can feel your heart racing as you nervously anticipate the pain of getting your nipples pierced, you imagine the worst, your heart beating in tune with your fear. 

He carefully cleans the area around your nipples and marks the spot where the piercing will go. He double-checks the placement with you to ensure you're happy with it. You give a slight nod, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs. “It’ll only hurt for a second.” 

With steady hands, Joel takes the needle. You feel a sharp pinch as it punctures through your skin, but the pain dissipates quickly. You let out a small whimper, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just a bit more,” he comforts you and you nod with a long exhale. 

After the needle is through, he quickly follows it with the jewelry, securing it in place. You watch in awe as he attaches the beautiful barbells to your nipples, the adrenaline and endorphins making the pain feel less than it is.

Once the piercings are in place, Joel gently cleans the blood before you can get a look.

“Aaand done, tell me what you think.” 

You’re surprised that he has a mirror in hand when you sit back up. Your gaze finds your reflection and an instant smile spreads across your face. 

“You like’em?” he asks, his tone shy. 

“Like them?” you gasp. “I love them! Thank you!” 

“Oh that’s a relief,” he leans back into the chair, slightly rolling away with a relieved smile. “No matter how many times I do it, I still get nervous.” 

“I definitely love them,” you say, you get up to wear your shirt but end up wincing at the sharp pain. You look at Joel between squinted eyes. “When did you say the pain would stop again?” 

“It’s gonna take a while,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “You don’t know how much your nipples touch stuff until you get’em pierced.” 

“Well, at least they look good.” 

He shoots you a wink, “They sure do, little rabbit.” 

“That nickname is still ridiculous.” 

“Should I remind you that the last time I used it you came on my tongue?” 

“Nope no reminder needed,” you put your shirt back on, smiling. “I’m still going through the aftershocks.” 

“Good,” he stands with you, hands on your waist, he pulls you as close as he can without your nipples touching his chest. “So, you wanna go out?” Joel’s gaze drops to your chest and he licks his lips, “Gotta make sure you’re takin’ care of them properly.” 

“My hero.” 

[echantedtoon]

RUN AWAY BUT I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

This is a sorta sequel to my Yandere Demons And Brides posts. Basically just headcannons of the demons of Y/n managed to escape.

Warnings for yandere themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, panic attacks, Hairou shooting himself, entrapment, mentioned wounds and scars, regular demon Slayer content, Douma/Karaku/Enmu IS his own warning, possibly some innuendos, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume/Zohakutan in the line up as part of Gyutaro/Hantengu's part but she/he will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her/him and reader!! And her parts will be minor. Nakime is short and like last post I left her Yn GN while the others I wrote as female Yn.

Buckle up guys. This is gonna be a BIG post with all the demons from the last two posts. Especially Hantengu's part.

KOKUSHIBO:

-How you managed to escape him? Who knows? He's Upper Moon One and that's nearly an impossible feat.

-After reclaiming you as his wife, he expects you to take your place as a dutiful wife should. Which is why he's very disappointed when you're just acting scared and always refusing his advances instead of greeting him like a good wife should be!

-He's only allowed to have you because Muzan allows him too for being so loyal and efficient. But that means he can't pause his duties less his master changes his mind. So maybe that's why you were able to find an opening to escape the house he trapped you in. The one he expected you to clean for him and come to take care of for your lives together now.

-He's not shocked by your want to escape him but he is certainly surprised when he discovers the desperation you had smashed a boarded window open he had made sure to tightly close off. The wedding ring he always forced you to wear around him discarded on the floor amongst the broken glass and boards of wood. He didn't think you were strong enough to get it open.

-He has a mixed reaction. He's disappointed that you managed to leave, frustrated too and annoyed, surprised as said you were able to get out, but mostly disappointed. He's not angry. He's got very good control of his anger, if anything he's just disappointed that you would rather try to escape. Deep down he's very upset with himself, a Deep sting of rejection like all those years ago stinging him.

-Its doesn't matter however. He's patient. And it's not like you'll be able to outrun him for long.

DOUMA:

-Remember how I said that you're best chance to get away from him is when he's still confused about his feelings in the last post? If you choose to escape then, then he won't bother. Not at first at least. He'd still be too confused about everything and not know what was going on to go after you until he finally realizes it or someone explains it to him. By then you might hide well enough to never see him again.

-However if you managed to escape after- Bravo! Somehow you managed to bypass Douma and his cult. Only one piece of advice to give you-

-RUN! Run as FAST and as FAR AWAY as you can! Because a Douma with emotions is actually emotionally and mentally unstable.

-When you aren't there and no one can tell him where you are, he feels scared and panicked like never before. He's almost hyperventilating as he tears apart the compound desperately calling your name ordering his cult to search the compound and comb through the nearby forest and mountainside for any signs of you to no avail.

-When he realizes that you left him he goes through a rage he's never felt before. It's so overwhelming that he kills(absorbs) any and all cult members he thinks even remotely causes you to get away. A bloody scene that for once might make Muzan pleased with his existence. He doesn't stop there he tears apart his room to satisfy his anger throwing and smashing anything he can get his hands on and leaving claw marks all over the walls.

-After he eventually comes down from his rage, he feels numb for a while before he starts crying. He's sobbing uncontrollably and curled up in your bed hugging your pillow to him. A wave of sadness and betrayal stabbing him in the heart over and over.

-Why did you leave him?! Did you not feel loved enough?! Did he not give into every whim you wanted?! He stays there unable to control himself or answer his questions until nighttime. Hope you have a good head start because as soon as sunset hits, he's coming after you and this time you wont ever leave him again.

AKAZA:

-To be fair he'd probably be the easiest demon to escape from outta all the upper moons. It's still NOT easy to do so but because Akaza doesn't harm women let alone the one he's in love with, he'll not do anything to actually harm you other than keep you isolated and trapped in one spot because he's afraid anyone would harm you if he let you wonder around.

-He allows you to go outside (only at night and with him so he can watch you-) since he knows being cooped up can't be good for your health. This might be your only chance.

-Someone might not see being cared for is a bad thing but Akaza seems to almost infantize you. You won't be able to do anything yourself. Want to cook? He'll do it! You can burn yourself! Want to go for a walk? He'll agree with him but halfway through he's seeing you limp with your bad leg and just call it quits before just carrying you all the way home. Want to bathe? Ok but he's waiting for you right outside in case you slip and hit your head! He doesn't allow you to do anything yourself and if he does, he's right there or just outside the door in wait.

-You're best chance of escape is just crawling through a window during the day and legging it as far as you can. If you do do this, expect him to have the biggest panic attack in his life when he sees the open window. Hyperventilating as he pictures the most horrible worst case scenarios of you running into a bear or rogue demon without him there to protect you. Or worse- WHAT IF YOU ENCOUNTER DOUMA?!

-Hope you know a good hiding place because once he catches you, you're never being left alone again.

NAKIME:

-You literally couldn't escape her with her teleportation powers but let's say you did for the sake of this post. Sneaking out by diving through an open doorway she opened for another demon or Muzan.

-Its was a surprise really you made it out. Like Kokushibo she's very good at controlling her anger and wouldn't really be anger even. She's just disappointed and a bit annoyed her Husband/Wife(whichever you wanna go by with the lady demons like last post) would still insist on being childish and trying to run away again.

-She'll be impressed you made it as far as you did but be weary of sudden doors whisking you back home to an annoyed demon 'wife' again.

GYUTARO (+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

-You could've simply gotten away if you had boarded the train with your soon-to-be husband and never saw either demon again as they never left the Red Light District.

-Good luck escaping Daki's belt and the underground home they keep you in. You're too scared to fight back so you remain casual and polite out of fear (and to try and think of a way to escape).

-It won't be easy. They take turns in rotation. Daki loves dressing you up and chatting with her like always like nothing changed. Gyutaro will hold you to himself and feel relieved just having your warmth against him. If they aren't around then Daki has her talking belt minion guard you or she puts you in a belt for a while. It's rare for all three of them to be busy at once but it has happened more than one time. They don't think you can escape the hole in the ground anyways.

-Well you do. One day while they were all busy. Clawing your way through one of those thin tunnels until you reach the surface freed. You're alive. Dirty, a little thin, and scared out of your mind. But alive and free for now. You better get out of the E District because of you do stick around they'll catch you sooner or later.

-Both have a similar reaction when they come home and discovered you gone. Daki throws a massive half tantrum half crying fit. She tears her talking belt minion to shreds blaming it for your escape. It's ok. She'll make a better one later when she calms down but right now she'll cry and throw a fit while demanding her hyperventilating brother fix this as he usually does.

-Gyutaro has a similar reaction to a emotional Douma. He'll tear apart your underground home, and when he can't find you he'll fall into a hyperventilating mess of emotions. He's absolutely pissed off. That's his default emotion after all so it's his first reaction but he'll start falling into a mess of tears and crying as realization jabs into him. He knew he was ugly. He's so ugly even a practically blind girl would eventually run away from him. He's a blubbering crying mess like his sister for a while until both are calmed down enough to think with clear heads.

-Hope you were able to make it to that train because you don't have just one but TWO demons coming after you.

GYOKKO:

-Possibly the second easiest one to escape from. All ya have to do is yeet his pot off a cliff side or something but the problem is he'll quickly teleport back to you angry in another pot.

-Your best bet is to use flattery and his own ego against him and to your advantage. Tell him how honored you were to receive such beautiful pots from him. Listen to him sing his own praises. His guard will lower as you both talk to each other about his pots, art techniques you both use, and anything else involving art or himself in some way. Honestly if he wasn't a demon and kidnapped you, you probably wouldn't have minded the conversations.

-Play along as his little mise. Holding still as he carved your likeness into a vase or allow him to watch as you shakily work a needle and thread too closely. Eventually his guard will be down enough for you to escape.

-While he's not sun proof his pots are. While he's gone, turn the pot he uses to get inside your home upside down and place the heaviest object you can on it to help delay his entrance as you run into the daylight.

-Oh he'll be furious and throw a fit about you leaving and how you treated his precious vase, but he's more preoccupied by the fact that his precious muse has vanished into the wind. Luckily for you, he's the easiest demon to hide from. Just stay away from vases and any art studios for a long while. He's sure to be close by looking for you.

KAIGAKU:

-All I can say is good luck. While Kaigaku isn't the brightest, strongest, or emotionally adept demon he's definitely not someone you can easily trick or escape from. You can't get more than a few yards away at most before he notices you walking away from his distracted form and barks a demand for you to return to him immediately!

-Doesn't help he also keeps you in the Infinity Castle where lots of demons watch you with hunger. They only don't eat you because you're around Kaigaku's side at all times and no one wants to tussle with Upper Moon Six, especially if it was Kokushibo who brought him in. Kaigaku is smug about having you always paraded around on his arms.

-You have to use the same tactic for him as you did Gyokko. Compliment him subtly and every once and a while. Keep it casual however. Doing it too much with cause him to get suspicious and catch onto your plan. However a compliment here and there that sounds like a genuine observation will boost his ego and slowly but surely let his guard little by little down around you. To the point he leaves you in a room he marked as his own when training with Kokushibo.

-He's absolutely terribly shocked and PISSED when he discovers you gone and later learns that you had taken Nakime off guard by diving into an open doorway as she wasn't looking. Oh now he's not just pissed, he's ENRAGED!! You'd better run, run, run. Because as soon as the sun goes down a cursing black rage filled shadow is hunting you down even if it takes him all eternity.

HAIROU:

-(again couldn't find a gif of him) Outta all the lower moons Hairou would be the hardest to escape from. Not only can he teleport using shadows, but he has guns, and summoned shadow wolves on his side.

-He can get overwhelmed by his emotions and have a panic attack from the PTSD and end up shooting himself. That would be the ideal time to flea, when he's too overwhelmed by emotions to really take in his surroundings and know what's going on. You have to be quick though because he can recover pretty quickly after the gunshot.

-If you're somehow able to escape from him some other way he's having the worst panic attack of both his human and demon existence. It'll take him all night and many rounds of ammo before he's actually able to get his head together enough to really get a hand on the situation.

-You must get creative as you run however. He'll track you down using his shadow wolves like a pack stalking down a deer.

HANTENGU (+ CLONES):

-Hes actually the easiest Upper Moon to escape from. It's just a matter of timing and how you execute it is all.

-You're best bet is to use his own delusions against him and do your plan when he's by himself without any clones present to stop you. Act sweet to him. Tell him you're glad you're 'husband' is home and that you were going to run out and grab him something to make for dinner and to just make himself comfortable. He's so delusional and thinks you're just being a sweet 'wife'(nevermind you two aren't married) that he believes everything you say.

-Wont even put up a fuss as you smile casually and wave at him before walking out the door on your way to town to 'buy ingredients' only you skip right past the town and you don't walk you freaking RUN!! Run, run, run as fast and as far as you can before he realizes that you aren't coming back.

-He's so delicious that he doesn't suspect anything. In fact he takes a nap and wonders about the house for hours waiting for you when you don't show up once it's night time is when he knows somethings up. He doesn't believe you ran away however. No. To the day he died Hantengu believes his poor wife was abducted by another demon or slayer.

-Hope youre far away because he's ripping himself apart and sending his clones out to search for their poor 'wife.'

SEKIDO:

-He may not look it but he's very concerned about their 'wife.' He doesn't know what happened to you and he doesn't care. He wants you back and he wants you back NOW!!

-First thing he does is yell at Hantengu for twenty minutes about stupid he was to let you go by yourself all defenseless and weak. Next he's ripping up himself and Karaku to get the others and ordering them in the scariest most threatening tone ever to get out there and FIND YOU! Even if it was the last thing they did.

AIZETSU:

-Crying, blubbering mess. He knows you weren't happy with them but did you have to run away? Did they do something wrong? No. It must be because something awful happened to you because they weren't there. You'd never run away from them!

-Most emotional outwardly and on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time they're looking for you. Once they find you(if they do) he's holding onto you and sobbing into your dress about how sorry he is.

UROGI:

-Man is molting in anxiety. He's making panicked turkey noises while he's looking for you. He thinks it's a game at first thinking you're just playing chase but when it becomes clear you're actually GONE he's running around like a headless chicken panicking.

-The most likely to spot you from up above so be sure to stick close to trees and outta sight because if not then you'll find yourself swooped up by a freaked out harpy and flown back to the others...that is if KFC man finds you at all.

KARAKU:

-Is surprisingly the only one that's thinking clearly. He's the clone of Relaxation so he's going to be the calmest one in this situation. But he's still panicked and scared like the others desperately searching for you.

-In a moment of arguing the others blame him for you possibly running away with how he always acts towards you. He has six other clones yelling at his face making him feel very guilty and wonders if it was his fault. He promises to make it up to you and never do it again once they find you. IF they find you.

ZOHAKUTAN:

-THE most likely to find you. He comes out in a last resort when Hantengu and the five other clones are unable to find you. Forces Sekido to absorb the others and let him take over searching with his wood dragons. He can just take shelter and continue looking for you during the daytime with them too.

-Eliminates any and all obstacles in his path until he finds you and entraps you in the mouth of one of his dragons before dragging you back home to everyone's relief. Be prepared for an earful and to be under close observation for the rest of his time alive because Zohakutan will be coming out more often after this.

URAMI:

-Very resentful that Hantengu was dumb enough to let you wonder off by yourself and like Sekido he'll spend a few minutes yelling at him for it too before joining in on yelling at Kataku and going to search for you.

-Be prepared for him to be out a lot more now too to guard you and make sure you don't try anything like this again.

KYOGAI:

-Like Nakime it's going to be nearly impossible for you to escape someone that can teleport to you and shift the mansion around to keep you from escaping. You're best bet is to crawl or jump out the nearest window at the first opportunity.

-Kyogai can't go far from his mansion because that's where most of his power lies so your best chance of truly getting away from him is so flee as far from the mansion as possible. Depending on if it's night or how hurt you are from jumping out the window he might catch up to you.

-He's not the worst demon to be trapped with but his desperation for genuine connection makes him certainly very possessive and he isn't willing to let you go that easy.

ENMU:

-How did you manage to get out of the personal train car he locked you in? He's literally a part of the train and can control how much freedom you have.

-Turns out insomnia is one helluva drug.

-Enmu is not easily fooled. He will not be fooled by flattery, tricks, or challenges. And you're certainly not as strong as him. The best bet is the element of surprise. Pretend you're having one of your naps. He'll sometimes forget your body doesn't work with sleep like a regular person, so when you suddenly tackle him out of the way as soon as he opens the door, he's taken off guard. Take this chance and RUN!!

-Stay away from train stations and trains. You'll probably be able to avoid him as his main body is literally infused with a train. I'm fact stay away from train tracks and towns with stations all together. You never know if a train whistle is just Enmu around the corner.

[midnight-pluto]

yk I was hoping for fun silly bsf Damian right?? NOT WHATEVER THAT WAS 😭😭

(I would 100% love another post elaborating on this if you want to make one. I eat up bsf Damian content)

WHITE LIES — headcanons, damian w.

well i mean since you asked— here’s some elaboration on my small facts and crumbs of my bsf!damian saga, series, whatever

contains: bsf!damian x gn!reader, angst, definitely not fluff, mentions of murder/sacrifice but in a symbolic way

a/n: this goes against my own rules for this blog, but who the fucks gonna stop me? n e ways pls read the ending a/n 🫶

there isn’t much you know about bsf!damian’s parents relationship except that his dads a whore

what he has told you is that his mom raised him abroad which was why bruce seemed practically unaware or unknowing of his existence before then, which seems to check out since he only came into the public eye only 2 years ago

due to both of his parents living in separate countries with different laws and with him being a minor, it’s hard to deduce when and where he’s gonna be at times

bsf!damian told you that the agreement his parents settled upon was that his dad gets to keep him for the majority of the school year but goes to stay with his mom for the majority of the summer

however, his mom is allowed to spontaneously pick him up only a few times during his school year which doesn’t seem quite right on your part but apparently his moms also loaded and his dad can’t really do anything about it

of course, it’s merely a cover up whenever he has to go on missions that take longer than just a free weekend

it's a hard lie to keep up, but as time goes on it gets easier to keep up and even harder for you to try and decipher anything that could potentially be wrong with bsf!damian’s stories

it'll be worth it in the end, won't it?

he tries his best to not listen to you when you talk about yourself, the less he knows about you the easier it is deceive you and eventually cut you off

but he listens

it's middle school, why should he take anything that happens here seriously? that includes you, bsf!damian doesn't see himself continuing to talk to you three years from now and he highly doubts that possibility

so what if he secretly wants to know you for eternity and onwards? despite his life being full of wealth bsf!damian still can’t afford being able to keep you in it for long

bsf!damian could barely scrape by deceiving you with an overly elaborate tapestry of all of the lies he’s ever fed you, but it’s for the better

it’ll be worth it in the end, won’t it?

his wants weren’t needs, and both as an assassin and robin that rule applied — except this time around he placed the average civilian’s life over his own

the universe never seemed to allow bsf!damian enjoy things for long, for you were merely a civilian he wanted to be by his side, wanting for your lack of expectations on how to present himself, but he didn’t need it

but it was for the better, for your safety and everyone else’s so you would be away from all the danger and destruction bsf!damian never failed to bring with him

it’ll be worth it in the end, won’t it?

it has to be

it has to be worth something, anything, for bsf!damian’s time being by your side to be cut short by his own hands, because if it isn’t then he just wasted his only semblance as a normal teenager, a child, away

you had bsf!damian and bsf!damian had you, if he let go of that without your safety from the countless revenge plots and villains that had it out for him ensured then he didn’t make a sacrifice, he committed a murder

and that was something damian had sworn off

a/n: no, this wasn’t made out of the multiple asks and comments asking for more bsf!damian content, i had already had this in the works when i made my last post about holding off on updates so for the month this may be my last actual post on bsf!damian, for the month.

[hotnbloodied]

Yan!Loser X Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: kidnapping, drugging, non-con kissing and touching, stalking, mentions of axe body spray.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

Pt. 2

It was around lunch time and you were on your way to your university’s canteen. You normally had lunch a little later to avoid the crowds but today you couldn’t hold your hunger in at all and you needed to get something to eat. In doing so the canteen was packed and by the time you had gotten some food all the tables seemed full. You scanned around for a little bit before noticing a small table that only had one person sitting at it. A guy with a small frame and black baggy clothes with messy unkempt hair. Without thinking too much about it you walked over. “Hey sorry to bother, would you mind if I could just sit here and eat?” You asked.

He looked like he jolted a little and looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. “Y-yeah…” Not much of a response, but that didn’t stop you from going ahead and sitting down to start devouring your food. After you were finally satiated you looked over cause you felt like someone was watching you and needless to say, his eyes were glued on you.

“Uh, do I have something on my face?” You asked him. His face whipped away. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” You laughed and told him it wasn’t a big deal. “What’s your name anyway? I’m (y/n), majoring in (major).” He raised his head to look at you again. “I’m Lester, I’m a biology major…” “That’s awesome!” You look at the time. “I should probably head out, my next class starts soon. See you around though!” Little did you know that your small act of kindness would come back to haunt you.

A couple of weeks pass and you seem to be seeing Lester more and more around campus. (Totally not because he’s trying to learn your schedule at all.) You don’t pay too much mind to it though considering a new friend is always nice. (As if he’d allow you to just be friends with him.) The two of you exchanged social messaging information which turned into an easy way for Lester to keep tabs on you. (You really should be careful about how you share your information.) You didn’t notice the increase of interaction from Lester, you were too sleep deprived and worried about school to notice which he’s grateful for since it’ll make it easier to make plans. Lester was a patient man, he knows how to make a pay off extra sweet.

You learn a bit more about Lester, even though he has a messy appearance he actually is a relatively neat person. He seemed to shower regularly and his clothes weren’t being reworn, but he only chooses to use axe body spray at his age for some reason. He doesn’t seem to have many friends cause, shocker, he’s an extreme introvert; Which makes you pity him which he fully knows and uses to play into to get your trust. With that trust he invites you over to his house, apparently his parents are in the science field as well and as long as Lester keeps his grades up they’d let him do whatever. The two of you would hang out and study at his place.

Six months had passed in a blink of an eye and the two of you were watching a movie together, it wasn’t that late but you felt extremely sleepy for some reason. The two of you just ate dinner that Lester cooked. “Hm? What’s wrong (y/n)? Are you tired?” “Haha, yeah I don’t know why. Maybe I was more tuckered out with finals than I thought.” “Why don’t you stay over? You’re more than welcome to spend the night.” You didn’t reply to Lester, it was because the sleeping pills he slipped into your drink worked like wonders and you were out like a light. Lester slowly dragged your body to his room and laid you on his bed. Chains were ready for you as he securely bound you to them. He loomed over your sleeping body in his bed, he couldn’t keep the excitement in his pants at bay. He took advantage of your lips and dry humped your leg, imagining what it would be like to finally be able to become one with you. Oh if only you knew how love sickness ran in his family. How that’s how his mom ensnared his dad and how having his ground and alibi covered was a learned family skill. No one will find you and you two will live happily together, forever. <3

Pt. 2

Lester <3

[queenshelby]

ONE SHOT: HIS LITTLE GIRL

PART TwO OF THE DARK & SEXY SERIES

NOTE: This is a series of one shots and mini series for Cillian Murphy & Tommy Shelby in which he acts totally off-canon. Most of these shots are very dark in nature and you should read their individual warnings. All of these shots are requests from readers. Co-written with @darkshelbyfiction! ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18. MINORS DNI.

PAIRING: CILLIAN MURPHY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: DUB-CON, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, FORCED BREEDING (SOMEWHAT), DDLG-STYLE STORY, HUGE AGE GAP

It was Friday Evening, a few weeks after your 18th birthday and, as usual, you were out with friends when you ended up in some trouble. 

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink when a group of guys started harassing you. They kept commenting on how pretty you looked and wouldn't leave you alone.

You knew you couldn't handle them, so you did what you always do when you needed help and your father was away for work. You called your father's friend, Cillian who had been dealing with your misbehavior and troublesome nature for quite some time after your parents had divorced. 

He was an attractive man, in his mid-forties, with slightly greying hair and piercing blue eyes; he possessed a dominating and intimidating aura that seemed to command respect and when you saw him enter the bar, you were relieved. 

"Cillian! Thank God you're here! I was being harassed by these creeps," you said, your voice cracking slightly as you tried to maintain composure while still trembling from fear as he walked in. 

His eyes scanned the crowd, locking onto the group of men huddled together near the bar entrance.

"Y/N, let's get out of here," he said firmly, taking your hand and leading you away from the commotion. You felt a surge of relief, grateful that he had arrived just in time.

As you walked through the crowded bar, you could feel the stares of the other patrons on the back of your neck. You glanced sideways at Cillian, admiring his confident posture and the way he held his head high, as if daring anyone to challenge him. The mere thought of having someone take care of you sent a warm feeling coursing through your veins.

"What the fuck are you doing in a place like this anyway?" Cillian asked as he led you outside into the cool night air. "I mean, it's not like you've ever been much for restraint, but really now, Y/N?"

You didn't respond right away, instead opting to focus on breathing in the fresh breeze wafting over the cityscape. But then, you offered a sheepish smile and replied, "Well, I decided to try something new, and here we are."

Cillian snorted in response before offering to take you to his place since it was late and there wasn't any sense in letting you walk home alone, let alone allow you to stay in the empty house by yourself. 

"Okay, but can you not tell dad about this?" you asked hesitantly, looking up at Cillian.

"Sure, I will promise to keep quiet if you promise me to behave yourself the next time you go out and do not go to shady places like these," he replied gruffly, flashing a lopsided grin at you. His car was parked a few blocks away and the walk was a welcome change from the crowded bar. You chatted idly as you made your way to the vehicle, the tension from earlier beginning to dissipate.

Once inside the car, Cillian drove smoothly toward his apartment, and you couldn't help but admire the strength emanating from him despite his calm demeanor.

When you arrived at Cillian's place, he unlocked the door quietly, leading you upstairs to his living room with a protective hand on your lower back. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as he fumbled around in the dim light trying to find the switch for the lights.

Finally, the room lit up, revealing the tasteful decor and cozy furniture and, since he had only just moved into this new apartment, you took some time to assess your surroundings.

This place was a stark contrast to your father's modest abode - it was bigger, brighter, and filled with modern art pieces that hung on the walls. There was even a balcony overlooking the city, which would make for an amazing spot to watch the sunrise on lazy mornings. You realized that this was the first time you actually saw Cillian's home and it made you feel a bit awkward. However, you soon found your bearings and started making small talk with him as you waited for him to gather some blankets and pillows for you to sleep on the couch.

"Now tell me, how is school going for you?" Cillian asked casually, knowing that you were just about to sit your final exams, breaking the silence between you both as he took a seat next to you on the couch and handed you a glass of water. 

"Oh, same old stuff, you know, studying, taking tests," you replied nonchalantly, shrugging off the question.

"And that boyfriend of yours? How is he doing?" he continued, a hint of worry creeping into his tone after he had met this young man a few weeks ago. 

"We broke up last week," you admitted, feeling a pang of sadness. "It turned out that he was cheating on me all along."

Cillian placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"It's just. I never...I mean, I should have seen it coming," you mused aloud, swirling the ice around in your glass of water. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a good girl. There will be others, others who are much more deserving of you," Cillian murmured softly, his thumb caressing your cheek gently, sending shivers down your spine. "But until then, don't rush things; it isn't healthy. Take some time for yourself, figure out what you want in life, and go for it."

"I guess you're right, Cillian," you sighed wistfully, staring blankly at the floor in front of you.

"I know I am right. I am always right," he mused, running a finger along your arm. You flinched at first, startled by the unexpected touch, but gradually relaxed under his gentle guidance. "Like I said, you are a smart girl, Y/N, so don't waste your youth on boys who don't deserve you," he went on to say before leaning closer.

You could smell the faint scent of soap and shampoo on his skin, a mixture of spice and cleanliness that made you feel strangely comfortable.

His fingers grazed your arm gently, sending a lightning bolt of excitement racing through your body. You wanted to pull away and yet, something strange compelled you to stay put. 

"Thanks, Cillian," you managed to squeak out, your heart pounding loudly enough to drown out everything else.

"You are welcome," he responded smoothly, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek, and his scent enveloped you, leaving traces of warmth in your wake.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder while his fingers traced undefined patterns over your skin.

His fingers eventually followed a trail from your neck down to your breasts, and as they reached your chest, he paused.

"You are beautiful, you know that right?" he whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

"I guess, yes," you muttered, your heart hammering wildly beneath your ribs as Cillian's fingers moved downward.

"Good," Cillian said and you could feel the heat rising within you, intensifying every sensation and emotion. His touch was almost too much to bear, yet it was also irresistible. You swallowed hard, unable to look away, captivated by the sensations coursing through your body.

"Let me ask you, Y/N, has your boyfriend ever touched you up here?" asked Cillian, his fingers tracing circles over your clothed breasts and your eyes widened, and you gulped nervously. "Yes, sometimes he has," you mumbled, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

"How about down there? Has he touched your special place?" Cillian's fingers danced provocatively, inching closer to your groin.

Your heart raced, palms sweating, as you shook your head in disbelief. You'd never imagined this kind of situation with Cillian, but his presence was intoxicating, overwhelming your senses.

"No, no one has," you finally mustered.

"Really?" Cillian's tone grew huskier, his fingers now brushing against your inner thigh. 

"I bet you're wet though, aren't you?" he asked you, smirking wickedly.

"No, I don't think so," you whimpered, but your voice lacked conviction as his fingers slid upwards, dangerously close to your panties.

"Come on, Y/N, admit it. I know you are aroused right now," Cillian coaxed, his voice low and seductive. "I have seen how you have been looking at me for years and now that you are old enough...," he then went on to say before trailing off and your face burned hot with embarrassment, but Cillian's fingers were relentless, dancing dangerously close to your panties.

"Cillian, we shouldn't," you protested weakly, but your heart raced and your breath quickened, betraying any attempt at resistance.

"Why not? Don't you want to be a good girl for me?" Cillian purred, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties.

"I do, but..." you trailed off, struggling to form coherent sentences.

"But what?" he prodded, his fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your panties. "Are you afraid of getting caught? Or maybe you think that you are still too young to have sex?" Cillian teased, his fingers expertly navigating through your underwear, his movements slow and deliberate. 

"No, but I am nervous," you admitted, your voice barely audible. The anticipation building within you was overwhelming, and you desperately wanted to feel his breath on your skin.

"Nervous about what?" Cillian taunted, his fingertips pressing lightly against your clitoris beneath your underwear.

"I am nervous about having sex. I am worried that it will hurt when you put your, you know....in there..." you murmured, causing Cillian to chuckle. 

"That's the thing, Y/N. The first time might be a little uncomfortable, but once you're used to it, it feels incredible. And trust me, I'll be gentle if you let me be your first," he assured you, his fingers now running over your wet slit, beneath your panties.

"I promise," he added, dipping one finger inside. You gasped softly, unprepared for the sudden intrusion.

"That feels weird," you gasped, gritting your teeth and clutching onto his arm for support.

"Because it's new," Cillian reassured you, his finger withdrawing briefly before sliding back in. "Try to relax, and breathe with me."

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on his voice, his rhythmic breathing. Slowly, you began to loosen up, allowing your muscles to unwind.

With each gentle thrust, you could feel his finger exploring deeper, discovering hidden depths within you.

You moaned softly, your hips undulating involuntarily, your breath becoming ragged.

Suddenly, he withdrew his finger, leaving you panting and wanting more.

"You are very wet now, Y/N," he murmured, his voice deepening even further as he pulled your panties down and slipped a digit back inside your folds. "And your pussy is so swollen, so ready for me. Please let me have sex with you," he begged you and your eyes shot open wide, and you gasped at the realization of what was about to happen if you said "yes"... You could feel your pulse throbbing in your veins, and your cheeks burning bright red.

"Come on Y/N. Let me put my cock inside that this little hole of yours. I promise it won't hurt for long," Cillian said, his voice dripping with lust. You glanced around nervously, aware that your heart was pounding uncontrollably and your breathing was heavy.

"You want to be my good girl, don't you?" Cillian whispered softly, his fingertip circling your nipple, creating a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. 

"Okay, but you need to wear a condom," you interjected, swallowing nervously.

"Of course," Cillian reassured you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small foil packet.

You watched intently as he undid his pants, pulled them down and then carefully removed the condom, rolling it onto his erect cock with practiced ease. Your heart hammered in your chest and your own juices pooled between your thighs at the sight of his engorged member.

"So beautiful. Now spread your legs for me, baby," Cillian instructed, his voice thick with desire. You did as you were told, your hands shaking with anticipation. Cillian knelt between your spread legs, his erection hovering just inches from your wet, eager pussy.

"Just like this, huh?" he asked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your soaked opening. You whimpered, unable to contain your nervousness. 

His cock looked huge in comparison to your small opening and the idea of having it inside you frightened you, but also excited you beyond belief.

"Relax, alright?" Cillian murmured softly, placing a supportive hand on your hip. "You might bleed a little, but it's completely normal. Trust me, it's nothing to worry about." His voice carried a soothing quality, and your heart rate gradually slowed down.

"Now, lift off the couch a little so that I can watch my cock go in," Cillian declared assertively, the intensity in his voice raising goosebumps across your arms.

You gulped, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

"Do you want me to lie back?" you ventured, feeling exposed yet curious after you adjusted your position.

"No, I want you to stay exactly where you are," Cillian insisted, his hand gripping your knee firmly.

"Okay," you murmured and Cillian sensed your apprehension and gave you a sly glance.

"Relax, Y/N. We are going to do this right," he assured you, his eyes locked on you. "It is going to be fun, okay? Just trust me."

You gave a weak nod, your heartbeat echoing in your ears, and a thin film of perspiration formed on your forehead. Cillian leaned in, his breath hot on your skin as he whispered, "Ready?"

"Yeah," you managed to croak back, your voice hoarse from anxiety.

You shifted restlessly on the couch, your heart pounding in your chest like a jackhammer. Cillian's firm grip on your knee grounded you, and gradually, you began to settle into the moment.

"Don't worry, I'll go slow," Cillian whispered, his voice rich and husky as he pressed the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You inhaled, steadying yourself, bracing for the pain.

"Breathe with me, Y/N," Cillian coaxed, his breath hot on your skin. "Take a deep breath and push out your pelvis."

You complied, your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on relaxing your muscles. Cillian eased forward, and with a slight pop, his cock breached your tight barrier.

"Ow!" you cried out, instinctively tightening against the intrusion.

"It's okay, Y/N," Cillian murmured encouragingly, stroking your upper thigh. "Just relax and remember to breathe."

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as you forced yourself to relax. Cillian maintained a steady pressure, guiding his cock deeper into your slick, tight channel. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, threatening to burst free at any moment.

"Almost there," Cillian whispered, his voice sounding far away.

You grunted softly, feeling the stretch and burn intensify.

Cillian continued to guide his cock deeper, his pace steady and measured. The discomfort was overwhelming, but you focused on taking measured breaths, reminding yourself that this was part of the process.

"Alright, Y/N, we're halfway there," Cillian murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You're doing great."

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" you whimpered, squirming uncomfortably.

"It is supposed to hurt a little," Cillian answered honestly before adding, "but it won't last forever. Just breathe and stay still for me. You will get used to the feeling soon," he reassured you and you took several deep breaths, willing yourself to relax. There was some blood on the cushion beneath you, but you pushed the image aside and focused on the task at hand. 

Eventually, you felt him bottom out inside you, his cock filling you up completely with a sensation you hadn't experienced before.

Your heart pounded furiously, and your breathing became ragged.

"You're so damn tight, it feels so fucking good," Cillian groaned, his voice strained and husky and, despite his efforts, his cock twitched inside you, growing harder.

"Please," you managed to whisper, unsure whether you were agreeing to continue or begging him to stop. You could feel your insides quivering, an unfamiliar sensation spreading throughout your body. It was pleasurable at last and this, mixed with the pain, confused you. 

Cillian's grip on your knee tightened slightly, steadying himself as he prepared to begin moving. He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly.

"Okay, Y/N, I'm going to start moving now," he warned, his voice husky and low. "Just relax and tell me if it hurts too much."

You managed a weak nod, squeezing your eyes shut and bracing yourself for the inevitable pain. Cillian began to move, his cock sliding back and forth inside you with agonizing slowness.

Each stroke sent waves of pleasure-pain coursing through your body, making you moan softly. You could feel his warm breath on your neck, and your heart pounded relentlessly in your chest. he growled in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're wound tighter than a spring. I can feel you clenching around me, fighting the urge to come undone."

You squirmed uneasily, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest. "Cillian, please," you whimpered, your voice cracking like a gunshot. "Please, I can't," you moaned but he silenced you with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth, tasting of salt and sin. His cock pulsed inside you, relentless as an iron fist.

It seemed to fill you up more fully with each passing second, and the exquisite torment it inflicted upon your tender flesh drove you to distraction.

"Feel it, Y/N?" Cillian whispered, his voice husky and low. "My cock is stretching you to your limits and it feels so good. You are so tight and so warm," he groaned and you could only nod in agreement, your breaths ragged and desperate. Cillian's cock surged inside you, thrusting deeper and harder with each passing moment.

Each movement sent delicious spasms through your body, making you moan helplessly. You could feel yourself unraveling around him, losing control of your inhibitions.

"Oh, God, Cillian," you whimpered, your voice cracking with desperation. "You feel so good inside me."

Cillian's eyes gleamed with triumph, his cock swelling larger and thicker. An insatiable hunger ignited within you, driving you to claw at his shoulders and squeeze his ass tightly.

"That's a good girl," Cillian rasped, his cock pulsing intensely within you. "Taking my cock like a champ."

You could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around his invading shaft, contracting rhythmically like a vise. Each contraction brought another wave of ecstasy, as you surrendered yourself to the blissful agony consuming you.

"Oh, fuck," Cillian groaned, his cock flexing powerfully within you. "So goddamn tight," he gasped before pulling out of you abruptly. "How about you turn around for me now and get on to your hands and knees," he ordered.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding against your chest like a madman. But somehow, you trusted him. After all, he was Cillian Murphy—the man you've fantasized about for what felt like a lifetime. With a trembling hand, you slowly rotated your body until you were facing the opposite direction. You bent over, your hands supporting your weight on the couch cushions.

"Perfect," he praised. "Stay like that."

You heard him shuffling around behind you but did not pay much attention to what he was doing as, unbeknownst to you, he pulled the condom off his shaft and discarded it on the floor, wanting to fuck you bare. 

He then grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you back against him. His bare shaft entered you, feeling warmer and smoother than before. 

It slid effortlessly into your welcoming pussy, the sensation of his flesh against yours setting fire to your nerves.

"Something feels different," you gasped, confused, but Cillian silenced you. 

"Shh," Cillian hushed you, his warm breath fanning your ear. "Everything's fine," he said before he thrust into you again, his cock sliding deeply within you with a hungry growl. The sensation of his naked cock penetrating you felt amazing for him and you, but you still did not know why it felt different then before and put it down to the change in positioning.

For Cillian, this act was raw, primal, and absolutely thrilling. The thought of having his cum inside you thrilled him even more, claiming you as his. 

"God, Y/N," he gasped, his breath hot on your neck.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," he groaned and you bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan.

"Cillian," you whimpered, your voice hoarse with desire, still unaware that he was now fucking you raw. His bare cock was inside you now just as he was getting ready to cum and you knew nothing about it. 

"I am close baby. So fucking close," Cillian muttered while slamming into you. Each thrust filled you with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain that left you breathless.

"Oh, God, Cillian," you moaned, your voice cracking with desperation.

You could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around his invading shaft, contracting rhythmically like a vice and, soon enough, you could not take it anymore and came undone. 

You orgasmed, spasming around his cock, milking him and forcing you both to shout out in euphoria.

You felt your inner walls tighten around him, and Cillian's cock swelled, spurting hot cum deep inside you. His seed mixing with your wetness, marking you as his.

"Fuck," he groaned, his seed bursting forth, painting your insides white. You gasped in shock, your body tensing up as his semen spilled into you.

You felt the warm sticky substance trickling down your inner thighs but did not think anything of it, ignoring it in post-orgasmic bliss. 

Then, after a few more thrusts, Cillian pulled out of you and collapsed beside you on the couch and, immediately, you sat up, your gaze landing on the spot where both of you had been lying.

You didn't notice it initially, but now, you couldn't help but stare at that spot while Cillian reached for a box of tissues and, without words, handing you a wad of paper towels.

"What for?" you asked, puzzled as and he gestured to your pussy, leaking his cum. 

You stared at your own pussy before registering what had taken place. He had ejaculated inside you. The thought made you blush profusely but you didn't say anything. 

You clean up the mess with the tissue, wiping up the remnants of his release  before tossing it in the trashcan.

"Your pussy looks so good, leaking my cum," Cillian says, admiring your visibly flushed face and damp hair.

"Why did you do that?" you ask, knowing full well that he intentionally removed the condom. 

"I wanted to claim you," Cillian replies, his voice deep and resonant. "I needed to show you that you belong to me; that we are meant to be together," he told you while caressing your cheek gently with his thumb. "And now you are mine," he added confidently before forcefully kissing you again, his lips crushing yours hungrily till your body weakened under his passion.

[wileys-russo]

ok hear me out. mapi x ingrid x reader where reader gets a little minor injury. maybe a tweak in a knee or ankle. cue ingrid who is stubborn and doesn’t let you lift a finger (even tho you feel fine) and then there’s mapi who lets you get away with more than you should if you promise a few extra kisses

bed bound II m.león & i.engen

the very minute that your knee tweaked and you went down at training with a cry of pain, your entire body locked up and flooded with fear that it had happened again, those dreaded three letters which had almost ruined your career.

your girlfriends were the first by your side dropping down and fussing over you as you pushed them away, burying your head in your hands as the phsyio's arrived, gently ushering away the two girls who hovered anxiously nearby with the rest of the team.

"you are done for the day chica." mateo, a man you were far too close with given he'd been by your side your entire recovery, smiled apologetically as you gave in with a nod and a sigh.

at mateo's own nod his way jonatan was quick to call the girls back to training, mateo helping you to your feet as you assured you felt okay to walk and the pain was just a sudden shock.

"go! i'm okay." you mouthed to your two lovers who were still hesitantly hovering a few feet away, shooing them off as you carefully followed after mateo inside the training centre.

you were rushed off discreetly for a scan, alexia accompanying you and doing her best to take your mind off wandering to the worst possibility. having to take some time off for her own injuries she was the best possible person to have around you because she understood.

gratefully a few hours later and your results came back clear, it had only been a tweak.

but dismissed from training with the team to take the upmost caution for the next few days you found yourself back in the gym with alexia working on your own programs just like all those months ago.

the fact it was only a tweak however was not apparent to your girlfriends, who insisted on treating you like you were made from glass, banishing you to bed rest as if you'd broken your leg.

"ingrid i am fine!" you groaned loudly, smacking away the taller girls hands as she attempted to tuck you in. "you need to rest! please." the brunette sent you a firm look as you huffed but allowed her to continue.

"stop the pouting cari." mapi chuckled from the end of the bed, watching with crossed arms and an amused smile as ingrid fussed around you. "no! this is stupid. i wasn't told i needed bed rest by medical professionals, so why are you doing this?" you whined, head pushing back into the pillow with another groan.

"because elskling we love you and we care about you very very much." the brunette smiled, bending down and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, smoothing your hair out of your face and pecking your lips a few times.

"well can you care less then? pretty please?" you smiled sarcastically, ingrid flicking your ear with a roll of her eyes and stealing one last kiss. "no. i have to go to the store but maría will be here so call her if you need anything! stay in bed and rest your knee, i mean it." your girlfriend warned seriously, you now the one to roll your eyes.

"baby?" "yes! okay fine." "thank you, i'll be back in a little bit and you're in charge love."

"hey! i am older and she is injured, why is she in charge?" mapi scoffed in disbelief, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. "because you might be older but you are a child maría." ingrid smiled, pulling her into a searing kiss and cutting off her protests.

"but what if there is a fire? she is supposed to stay in bed." your girlfriend still challenged, the interaction admittedly bettering your mood a little.

"so if there is a fire you're going to just leave me in bed?" you now spoke up with a raised eyebrow. "no! that is not what i meant." mapi pouted, eyebrows knitted into a frown.

"she's still in charge and you, stay in bed!" ingrid pointed firmly between the two of you before grabbing her bag, her footsteps echoing through the hallway before the door closed and she was gone.

"movie?" you asked the blonde defender hopefully, if you were bound to bed the least you wanted was some company. "i have a meeting in five minutes mi amor, lo siento." mapi smiled apologetically as you groaned.

"not only am i being forced to stay in bed but now i am alone!" you glared up at her as she took a seat on the edge of the mattress. "i am also hungry." you huffed, your girlfriend running a hand through your hair with an amused smile.

"i shouldn't be more than an hour bebita. then i am all yours!" mapi promised as you sighed dramatically. "i will have wasted away by then." you flopped back into bed with your arms covering your face.

"if only i had two functioning arms to cook with…" you sighed again. "oh wait! i have four functioning limbs but just two overprotective girlfriends." you gasped sarcastically, earning yourself a light slap to the chest.

"cari we just-" "please." "no you heard ingrid you have to-"

"baby please. please, please, please, please, please-" you grabbed at her top and tugged her mouth down to meet yours, kissing her repeatedly in between each word.

"okay!" mapi eventually gave in with a groan, glancing at the time on her watch and realising her meeting started in one minute and it would take a lot longer than that to continue arguing back and forth with you.

"you owe me a lot more of these.” your girlfriend warned seriously, stealing one last kiss before standing up from the bed as you swung yourself out of the covers.

"-and we do not tell ingrid." mapi warned as you both agreed on that with a nod, the blonde giving you a once over look as you stood up, reassuring her with a smile and a little shake of your leg that you were okay.

and at that she rushed off toward the office and you made your way into the kitchen.

you took awhile to decide what you were in the mood for, never having been great at being decisive you rifled mindlessly through the fridge.

finally making a decision you gathered the neccesary ingredients and started to prep sitting down at the island to do most of it, hearing your girlfriends worries ring through at the back of your mind. though your knee did feel fine, you of all people also didn't want to risk anything unnecessarily.

you must have taken longer to make a choice on what to cook than you thought because midway through you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a chin rest on your shoulder.

"hola princessa." you settled into her hold with a sigh of contentment, offering up a spoon of the vegetables you were sauteing toward her which she happily accepted. "perfect. just like you!" a sweet kiss to your cheek had a smile curling into your features as the defender clung on tightly, swaying the two of you lightly as she often would.

"so how many more ads do you need to make with google for that silly phone? or have they decided to actually hire a qualified marketing specialist." you teased, knowing full well just how much your girlfriend often struggled with thinking up what to do, the groan against your back enough to answer the question for you.

"five this month." mapi sighed, pressing a few kisses beneath your ear and pressing her face into your neck. "i don't know why you don't talk to your agent about it maría, you don't even use the phone besides the ads!" you laughed, your girlfriend having an iPhone she used day to day for most things.

"don't you maría me. i can’t stop ingrid but i thought i at least had you on my side princesa." her fingers gripped your hips in warning though her tone was playful and you jolted a little as her teeth nipped suddenly at your neck.

you withheld a moan and tried your best to stay focused on the two pans of food in front of you, not helped by the fact that the tattooed spaniard sucked, bit and nipped mark after mark into your neck.

"careful, don't burn your food bebita." she rasped teasingly into your ear, kissing gently over the fresh love bites as you felt her smirk into your neck.

~

"i am back loves!" you looked up hearing the front door open and close a couple of hours later, your fingers tangled in blonde hair as your girlfriend lay draped across you.

seconds later and ingrid appeared, smiling happily seeing you still in bed and face softening seeing mapi dead asleep beside you. "hola mi corazón." the brunette greeted you in spanish, bending down and meeting you in a gentle kiss.

"did you get what you needed amor?" you questioned with a raised eyebrow as the midfielder hummed and slid into bed with you, mapi stirring and exhaling deeply but otherwise remaining fast asleep and tightly attached to you.

"hey you promised that you would not watch ahead without me!“ ingrid realized the show you were watching and gasped at the betrayal. "you left me crippled, lonely and bored in bed for a few hours i needed something to occupy myself." you smiled as she rolled her eyes but mumbled something in norweigen, too fast for you to fully understand.

"so, you were in bed the whole time then?" "yes baby, just like you told me to."

"mm so what did maría cook you for lunch?" her hands tangled in your hair as your head dropped to rest on her shoulder, mapi remaining sound asleep, lulled by the rising and falling of your chest beneath her head.

"why?" you laughed curiously, a little taken aback by the question. "well amor because it looks like you had escalivada exactly the way your mama makes it, which maría does not know how to make. because you refuse to show her as you know it gets under her skin!" your body locked up at that, eyes widening a little.

"nothing to say elskling? normally you always have something to say." your girlfriends fingers found your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze as you opened and closed your mouth wordlessly. "mm that is what i thought." ingrid chuckled darkly.

"and these-" you hissed as her fingers moved to press gently into the sensitive hickies on your neck. "-i don't think you're being honest with me. and you know how i feel about lying." she smiled though her eyes told you all you needed to know.

"okay, but baby there is just one thing you need to know." "mm and what is that love?"

"you left me in charge, no? but it was all maría’s idea."

[astrobolical]

How likely to bite are the brothers?

Content Warnings: ns.fw, marking, mentions of semi-public sex, the boys absolutely go into heat/rut so mentions of that but not a lot, Mammon being needy, Levi’s insecurities, mentions of bleeding (light), a lot of biting, Minors DNI

Reader: Gender Neutral

Characters: Beelzebub, Leviathan, Lucifer, Mammon, Belphegor, Asmodeus, Satan

I absolutely adore fangs, so biting follows shortly after. I couldn’t stop thinking about how likely the boys are to bite. Let me preface this, though they all absolutely bite. It’s really a matter of how often and when. They would adore marking up their partner, knowing that anyone that sees them just KNOWS that it was them.

Ahh… maybe I should extend this to the others?

This is in order of least frequent to most frequent biters!

Beelzebub is always so mindful of you it’s difficult for him to give into that urge— he knows how powerful his jaw is, how much damage his teeth could do to you with ease. Due to this, while he would love to leave you with marks that’ll last for days to come he often restrains himself even in intimate situations.

Sometimes, though, he simply can’t help himself, biting down on your exposed skin— any that he can get his mouth on. It’s usually your hand or wrist when you’re handing something to him, or holding his hand. He loves seeing the red imprint of his sharp teeth, proud of his restraint that he didn’t break your skin, and that you’ve got a mark that’ll tell others you’re his.

It doesn’t matter where you are when he does give in— you could be conversing with someone, just walking by him, anywhere. Sometimes he just needs to know you’re his and be possessive of you.

During more intimate moments, when he’s got you pressed down into whatever surface is available (he prefers his bed, sometimes it’s not available due to his shared room, though… it’s not like Belphie would wake up, and you both know that from experience) he is a bit more likely to lick and bite at your shoulders and neck.

If he’s really into it (especially if he’s in his rut) he’ll leave you littered with bruising bites, some bleeding, that’ll take weeks to fully heal. Anywhere his teeth could reach while he had you beneath him. He’ll feel guilty afterwards, and tend to you carefully, but deep down there’s a sense of pride and elation. How much you trust him, knowing what he’s capable of, warms his heart.

If you display his marks openly you’ll have a blushing, happy Beel. He’ll kiss them when he has you close— so while they might not always be there, when they are they mean a lot between the two of you.

Leviathan has a hard time allowing himself to, though for different reasons than his younger brother. Levi feels as though he doesn’t deserve to taint your flesh with his tongue or teeth, he worries and frets that you’d resent him for it, even if he’s been reassured countless times before.

Most likely you’ll find yourself being bitten if Levi is feeling insecure that you’re actually his— which is a mild contradiction in his mind that leaves him extremely flustered. If you’ve been talking just a little too much with Satan lately, or helping Lucifer more than normal, you’ll come back to Leviathan looking at you with a strange sort of hunger. If you get closer to him when he’s like this, you’ll inevitably have him subconsciously mouthing at your body— sometimes even over your clothing if it’s in the way of where he wants to be.

Part of him wants to push you away (like he thinks you want) and the other is pulling you closer, nestling his face into the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent and leaving his own behind. Even if he becomes distracted with games or an anime, you won’t be leaving him, and he’ll be nipping at you the entire time. His marks are much more light, but due to how easily you can trigger his envy they’re a bit more often renewed.

When you first became intimate with Leviathan he was entirely submissive, following your lead and rarely taking full initiative so during that stage he very, very rarely had the mind to bite you. However with time and experience he becomes more confident — or when he’s just lustfully driven— he becomes far more likely to nip. His favorite place to bite during this (and in general) is the back of your neck. He loves pushing you up against any surface available, especially the tank in his room whether you’re in or out of the water, and fucking you from behind. His jaw will lock on and leave a nasty-looking bite from how tightly he held on, each individual tooth having its own visible place.

Displaying his bites will leave Levi a blushing mess, stuttering and mumbling until he accepts that you want people to know that he bit you. If he hears you actually tell someone it was his mark he might actually stop functioning for a while— but he likes it, don’t get the wrong idea.

Lucifer has no issues with marking your body as his, however he rarely gives in to impulse. His bites are planned, he’s aware of every movement and knows where and when he intends to. However he, unlike most of his brothers, is fairly respectful of your own outward appearance— it’s not very often he bites you where others can readily see. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he’s extremely proud of you and has no shame in marking you up for other demons and people to see, it’s just that he knows that sometimes visible bites are more of a nuisance to you.

However he’s not opposed to staking a claim. If he feels as though he needs to, Lucifer will steal your breath away, distracting you with his hands and kisses before leaving a large, prominent bite on your neck or even your collarbone (he has a particular fondness for your collarbones).

Most of your marks, though, are hidden away in far more personal areas that he is very prideful to have access to whenever he so desires. Your thighs, especially your inner thighs, are left with bruises and marks whenever he has the time to properly attend to you. Seeing his own lingering marks the next time he has you fills him with a surge of pride and lust— those places are his.

He isn’t immune to lust, especially when his mind is addled by ruts. During those times he’ll even use his sharp nails to trace patterns on your skin, but you can be sure there’ll be a few very visible, magic-imbued bite marks on your neck and shoulders. You’ll have everyone turning their heads warily as they subtly sense Lucifer in your presence. You’ll reek of him, you’ll feel like his magic and he adores it.

Flaunt his mark if he gives you a visible one, even hearing you tell someone how your thighs are a little sore will have his ego soar. You’ll feel his gaze on you, and you can almost tell he’s thinking about where he’ll mark you up next.

Mammon bites absentmindedly, while the two of you are lounging around, or you’re just a little closer to him than normal. He doesn’t think about it, he rarely even realizes he’s doing it unless someone points it out or you take your arm/leg/body away. If you or someone else does mention it, he’ll adamantly deny that he was doing it, even if he obviously was— so if you enjoy his attention, don’t. His absentminded bites don’t often leave marks, but it happens frequently enough (and publicly enough) that people would be blind to not realize you’re special to him.

Every time he’s laying around with you especially, if your arm is in reach you’ll feel his teeth gnaw on your skin.

If he does clue in during these moments, though, if he doesn’t immediately drop you and deny it, he’ll often get a bit more brazen— the fact you were allowing him to will rile him up. If you’re in private, it will certainly lead to Mammon either pinning you to whatever surface you were on, or pulling you to settle on his lap, lazily grinding up into you. Even in semi-private areas where someone may walk in on you, Mammon can’t resist bringing you closer— it’s up to you if you let him continue in that scenario.

He does leave lasting marks when he fucks you, biting down to muffle his own noises as he thrusts into you. He tends to latch onto one spot for a while, biting and licking and whimpering into the skin. When you ride him you can sometimes escape it, but even then he might bite down on your hand or arm, whatever is available. Mammon, like Lucifer, also tends to leave a bit of his magic in the bites, just enough to make other demons wary of you when you’re around.

If you show off Mammon’s marks, even accidentally, he can be a bit insufferable to everyone around him. His are very hard to hide, given where he likes to leave them, so just give him that ego boost— he needs it sometimes. He’ll be sure to let any demon, human or angel that so much glances at his marks know that you’re his, because he’s your first man after all.

His marks do tend to fade the quickest, though. Whether it’s because of their usual placement or because he doesn’t bite quite as hard as the others it’s hard to tell.

Belphegor is a frequent biter on many occasions— especially when he’s asleep beside you. While not all the time, sometimes you’ll wake to Belphegor biting at you, digging his nails into your sides. You’re not safe from this demon’s fangs even at rest. He’ll halfheartedly apologize to you when he notices upon waking, but you know he doesn’t mean it, whatever he was dreaming that caused it certainly wasn’t something he was about to regret. Besides, you look so pretty marked up like that he can’t help but add to it now that he’s awake.

He often bites you in very obvious places that would be hard to hide or to not notice. He does it with a sly, knowing grin and sassy remarks about how the whole Devildom will know where he’s been. Belphegor’s bites aren’t impulse, they're almost brutally intentional just because he wants to see what fuss he can cause— and, most importantly, to make it very, very known that you belong to him.

It could be anywhere, as well, the youngest doesn’t care who sees him sink his fangs in, or what anyone says. (Of course, if you are adamantly against it, he’ll refrain from being too public, even if he’s a brat about it.)

When Belphie’s buried inside of you, lazily and teasingly thrusting ever-so-slowly he makes up for it with his mouth. You tend to be on your side when being intimate with him, often just waking up from naps and he’s far too tired to move about needlessly, so your neck and shoulders are available for him to bite down on at his leisure. Sometimes your back, shoulder blades or collarbone don’t escape him, either, depending on which side he’s on.

He loves how you shiver when his breath ghosts over your skin, just above a still-sensitive bite as he slows his pace down even further until you’re a whining mess begging him to speed up. Telling you to keep begging for him, just like that before biting down on your throat and listening to the garbled mess of a moan that tumbles past your lips.

You will reek of him and his magic every time, and that sly smirk of his as you catch his eye lets you know that he thinks it’s time he refreshes it once again.

Asmodeus bites, but not usually hard enough to leave a lasting mark— he would never damage your beautiful skin… most times. His bites are playful, or sometimes attention seeking. He uses it as a means to grab your attention from whatever it is you’re doing— whether you’re just browsing on your D.D.D. or talking with someone else, it doesn’t matter. He’ll quickly nip your ear, dragging his teeth to make sure your attention is fully on him, as it should be.

They’re frequent, regardless of where they are, whether he’s just passing you in the hall, sneaking up behind you just to continue on his way, he makes sure you know he was there— as if you’d ever not notice Asmodeus.

Sometimes his kisses turn into little nips on your lips, your ear, your jaw, it doesn’t matter— anywhere on your face is where he wants to bite. He’s particularly bitey around his brothers, as they often draw you away from him. He’ll bring you into his arms, nuzzling against you before making sure they clearly see what he’s doing.

Similar to Lucifer, if Asmodeus is going to leave a lasting bite, it’s going to be someplace only for his eyes, where you can hide the ‘blemish’ beneath your clothes and reveal it only to him. He has a habit of leaving quite the mark on your butt as he worships your body, you always tense as he nears the area, knowing that your demon will likely bite down hard enough to make you bleed for him. He knows, and soothes you every time as he licks the blood from his lips, admiring his work and feeling his own lust grow tenfold just from that.

Unlike his brothers, Asmodeus could care less if you have marks to show from him, you have the demon himself to show off— why would you need a simple bite mark? So while his bites are frequent, it’s his presence and scent that really matters to Asmo— he just wants to be with you, and surely you want to be with him, too, right?

Though, he won’t complain if you actually explain why it is that you’re sitting a little funny the next day, he’ll simply smile and nuzzle into you, nipping at your ear like usual.

Satan’s bite is, however much he denies it, territorial in nature. His demonic instincts are stronger than his brothers’, and it is all he’s ever really known. Unlike them, he won’t restrain those instincts, and sees nothing wrong with it. He bites the most out of any of his brothers because of this, whether in greeting, passively, or because he wants to make it known that someone or something is getting too close for his liking— anything and everything can constitute a bite from him, so it’s something to be prepared for.

He can restrain himself if you yourself don’t like it, but it’s obvious he would rather give in to those instincts, so it’s more than likely you’ll allow it anyway. Your neck is typically where he’ll leave them the most, at least one that’s always visible. His magic might as well be yours, with how much he pushes into each indent his teeth make, and it’s notable how lesser demons quickly make way thinking he’s approaching when it’s only you.

Where, when, and who may be around are trivial to him.

However not all of his bites are for marking his territory, sometimes it is similar to Asmo when he just wants your focus to be on him, or when he’s showing you affection. Satan is arguably the most animalistic of them all, and it shows in how physical he can be with you.

While he may be public with his affections at times, it has backfired on him here and there with his temper, so when he is really craving your affection he will often pull you away to somewhere more private to make sure his time with you isn’t interrupted by a tantrum.

When intimate you can expect to be absolutely littered with marks from his nails and teeth — and even his tail, which digs in with its sharp edges as it clings to you. Anywhere from your calf to your chest, just let him worship you. Your chest in particular is never safe from Satan, even when he’s thrown your legs over his shoulders and is pressing you down into whatever surface you happened to be on.

When he’s rutting, Satan may not even know how he’s manhandled you, lost to the foggy lust in his mind and how good you feel— don’t worry, he’ll make up for it once he’s regained clarity, tending to all the bites he’s left along your body with surprising care. You’re his, and he’ll always care for you.

Displaying his marks is usually unavoidable, and it’s probably for the best, he hates when someone’s eyes linger on you for too long, so his magic and the proof that you’re his usually eases some of that instinct to protect you. If you make a point to parade around Lucifer in particular, though… oh, you’ll make Satan very happy, and he’ll be happy to reward you for your efforts.