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k-hotchoisan · 7 months

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Yunho smut with his hands? 🥴

Oh god I love his hands I want them around my neck so bad. My choking kink is off the fucking charts whenever Yunho’s hands are present. Here’s something for you, pretty. Enjoy Yunho and his pretty little hands.

Synopsis: what are the odds of getting a tattoo and getting fucked by your tattoo artist because you cannot stop staring at his fuckin hands

Warnings/genres: tattoo au!, mention of needles, slight size kink, choke kink, unprotected sex, hands kink, cream pies, fingering

A/n: I am so sorry for the amount of typos. I fucking swear this isn’t what usually happens omg

You stood before the apartment door, double checking that you got the right address—yeah you definitely did. He did mention that it was a home-based studio. Your first tattoo appointment and you were so nervous because you don’t know what to expect. Hongjoong had assured you to just go with an open mind. You didn’t know much about your tattoo artist, only knowing that his name was Yunho, nonetheless, you did really like his art style, and you soon settled on him with Hongjoong’s advice.

Back to present, you pushed the doorbell, and it echoes through the apartment. There is a silence before the doorknob clicks. The door pulls back, and before you, stood a really tall male. His sharp eyes make him look very intimidating and for a moment your heart races, and you wonder if you stopped into the wrong house.

“You are?” He asks, and rumbles you even more because his voice is so fucking deep for no reason.

You manage to find the voice stuck in your throat, as you reply, “y/n, here for a 7pm tattoo appointment with Yunho?”

His face softens immediately as his eyes brighten up. “Ah right! Yunho’s client! Come in. I’ll get Yunho in a bit”. He ushers you in as you remove your shoes.

You step inside, soaking in the interior of the apartment. It was definitely a shared space—the common areas were spacious, maybe just spacious enough to serve for two people. It was a pretty clean looking, monochromatic layout.

“Oh right, my name’s Mingi. Song Mingi, but you can call me Mingi”, he introduces himself brightly, his smile contagious. “I’m his room mate.” You smile back.

“Please excuse the mess by the way”, he laughs as he leads you through the corridor, and the both of you are standing in front of a wooden door. Mingi knocks the door before saying “Hyung, I’m coming in” with a raised voice. He pushes the door handle down and the door opens. The subtle hint of lavender hits you from the humidifier and it instantly relaxes you.

On the cushioned rolling stool sat your tattoo artist, his frame is as tall as Mingi’s, messy brunette locks tussled on his head. He’s in simple black shirt but he still looks so fucking good. He’s absorbed on his iPad, still sketching out the little details of what seems to be your tattoo.

You feel your heart beat a little too quickly the moment your eyes land on him because you did not expect him to be that attractive.

And you are gonna be stuck with him for at least a couple of hours together.

Mingi raps the door again, and that’s when Yunho looks up, and you take a good look at his face. He doesn’t look like whatever you expected him to look like, well, not that you had any pictures to reference him from to begin with. But definitely, he is pretty fucking good looking. You stay rooted at the entrance of the door, mooning over your tattoo artist in a tight black shirt while he eyes you up and down with a soft smile.

“Oh right! My apologies”, Yunho finally speaks and he sounds like honey, and it suddenly makes you slightly thirsty. “Hey. I’m Yunho. We finally meet”, he greets with a hand up.

His fucking hands. Oh my fucking gods. He has a silver ring cuffing his index finger. Then he beckons you to go over to him. Mingi tilts his head to Yunho’s direction before saying that he needs to leave, giving you a small nod before shutting the door.

You have no choice but to inch closer to Yunho, who’s smiling at you like a fucking golden retriever, and you wonder to yourself ‘this dude is a fucking tattoo artist?’ Yunho beckons you to take seat on an empty stool across him as he mentions to give him a couple more minutes to finish up the design draft. You nod, even if he doesn’t see it since his attention is back on his iPad. You quietly stare at the way he makes his strokes with his Apple Pencil.

And you get a closer look at this long, slender fingers. You’ve never met anyone with such pretty hands before, yet the way he holds the pencil is so gentle, and almost attractive for some reason. It’s especially the way his fingers are veiny and long—his joints are angled in such a way it frames his fingers so fucking prettily. Yunho looks up and catches your gaze, and you flinch slightly, thinking you are caught in the act.

“Eager to see your design?” He asks playfully, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. Oh thank fucking god.

“Yeah of course. I wonder what you came up with”, you quickly say, pretending to peek over at the iPad.

He brings up the iPad higher to his eye level and it’s the way his fingers curls around the tablet. He flips it over to you and you soak in the design he drew out for you. It’s what you wanted. You also don’t miss out how clean and neatly trimmed his fingernails are.

“Is it to your taste? Got any last minute changes you want before I print it out?” He asks, as he stands up and walks over to the printer. You shake your head slowly, trying not to swoon at how deliciously tall he is.

He beams. “Great! Then I’ll print a couple of sizes out. Take your pick okay? I’ll go grab some water for you.” You nod as he disappears out of the room through the door. The printer starts up and it begins to print out the stencil.

You look around the room. Despite it looking small, it was pretty cozy looking. The room has comfortable lighting, with lamps, which you assume are for the tattoo work. There’s a small space just behind the empty stool you’re seated on, with smaller studio lights pointing towards the wall, which you deduce is probably where he takes photos of his finished products. His tattoo machine sat near to the tattoo bed, which was cling wrapped for sanitary purposes, including the pillows. Finally, a small desktop computer set up was against the wall, perpendicular to the small studio lights, with a printer at the side. The door knocks, a short pause before it pushes open, and it’s Yunho with a drink in hand.

He walks over to you and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours and it takes you so much nerves to have any wild thoughts. You take a sip to distract yourself as you hear scissors cutting through the tracing paper. As you open your eyes, Yunho is so fucking near your face that it makes your heart jump.

“Oh gosh! Did I scare you?” Yunho laughs as he takes the cup from your hand. “My apologies.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. You just move so quietly”, you joke. Yunho smiles in reply as he places the cup on his desk.

“I need you to lift your shirt up for me”, Yunho instructs, staring at your abdomen.

Fuck, for a moment your mind plunges into some unknown territory. You forgot that your tattoo placement was above your hip. You roll the fabric up high enough, and you fucking jump when you feel Yunho’s fingertips brush against your skin, on your waist. “It’s here right? The placement that you wanted?” He confirms, his touch not leaving your skin. “Yeah”, you manage out.

He cuts a piece of tape to adhere the stencil onto your skin before bringing you over to the full length mirror right by the bed to let you confirm your placement. After a few adjustments (and hell of of him touching your waist with his bare hands which was definitely giving you insane haywire thoughts), you came to a placement which you are satisfied with. He sticks the stencil to your skin, much like a temporary tattoo, pulling out the tracing paper and letting it dry, before having you lie down in the bed as he prepared his inks.

“First tattoo?” He asks as he checks his gun.

“Yeah”, you reply, playing with your fingers from the nervousness.

Yunho chuckles. “That placement might hurt a little though. You’re a brave one.”

You only release a nervous laugh—wondering if it is for the tattoo or because of Yunho. He turns to you, tugging against his ring to remove it before snapping black latex gloves on before pushing your shirt higher. You bite you lip.

How the fuck does his hands look even better gloved? The black latex only enhances the length and shape of his hands, which curls around his tattoo gun.

“I’m gonna start now. Let me know if you need a break, yeah?” Yunho assures. You know it’s probably a customer service thing but god, why did he have to be so attentive?

He switches on the gun and it buzzes. He begins tattooing and sure enough, the placement you picked definitely hurt quite like a bitch, but you force yourself to pull through it.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” He asks before continuing.

“It does, but I think I’ll be fine”, you reply, thinking of something else to distract yourself from the pain. Throughout the session, Yunho makes conversations with you, making you laugh when you probably shouldn’t because he was stabbing needles at your waist but still. He was amazing at breaking the ice, especially in such a seemingly intimate space. You feel yourself unwind a little, and although it still hurt, you don’t feel so tense anymore. Nonetheless, you could not shake the thought about his hands running down your body every time you glance at Yunho doing your tattoo.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I even wanted to get a tattoo when I have a shit pain threshold”, you say in between soft giggles to cover up the pain and soreness that was starting to sink in.

“But you’re doing so well for me”, Yunho replies absentmindedly with a smile. Your head spins the moment he says that, butterflies were invading your stomach. What the fuck was that even? Now your stomach in twisting into knots when he’s praising you like that.

“We’re almost done. Hold on a little longer for me yeah?” He assures again, as you bear through the pain. It’s over quickly as he smoothes over your tattoo with a final swipe of the paper towel. He moves back a little to admire his work. He looks satisfied. He pulls his gloves off and sits you up gently, your stomach still fluttering as his fingers brush against your skin. He brings you to the full length mirror, and there you admire how gorgeous the tattoo looks.

“It looks amazing” you gasp, turning your side to have a better view of it. Yunho looks proud. He has his phone in his hand now and requests a few photos, which you obliged to of course. He adjusts your shirt before snapping a few pics.

“I really like how this turned out,” you gush. “Thank you Yunho.”

Yunho shakes his head. “Thank you for entrusting me to it, especially as your first tattoo.”

You laugh in response, and you don’t realise that he’s kneeled down at your waist, preparing to stick on the second skin. He sticks it on and instructs you on proper tattoo care before making another appointment for a touch up. You thank him and left the apartment, heart still beating in your ears.

You’ve developed a way too big of a crush on your tattoo artist now.

The touch up appointment came way too quickly than you thought. To be fair, you were still not over it, and as much as the tattoo scabbing and itch , it couldn’t compare to way Yunho’s hands kept brushing against your waist, as he checks on your tattoo. But in the past month, all you think about was Yunho and his fucking hands. Even now, when he’s only taking a look at your healed tattoo, your mind in swimming in the most dirtiest places you wanted him to touch.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip so no weird sound comes out from your mouth. You feel Yunho’s breath right at your waist as it tickles your skin, a soft sigh escapes your lips as your tattoo artist continues to rub against the tattoo.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Yunho.

He could very easily just tug your pants down and you would let him because fuck, he’s all you can think about now. Yunho stands up, and definitely notices how flushed your skin is looking, and he decides to test waters. He traps you at the tattoo bed, and you hear your heart in your ears as he inches closer. Now he’s pretty much towering over you as his fingers are tracing against your waist, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Your tattoo healed so nicely”, he says, hooking his index finger and thumb to your chin so you’d meet his gaze. Your gaze travels down to his pretty lips and he takes it as a sign to cup your neck and pull you in for a starved kiss, sending your mind into a fucking frenzy, and fireworks to go off in your eyelids. He tastes even better than you thought. Your eyes flutter open as he pulls back, catching your breath.

“Won’t Mingi hear?” You ask. He shakes his head. “Not anytime soon, doll.” His little pet name making you flush even harder, and it all goes down to your pussy, which is getting wet enough already, no thanks to your little fantasies and the fucking kiss.

“Now, stop thinking about him when I’m here.”

His hands touch your waist again, as he lifts you onto the tattoo bed, the plastic crinkling beneath you. You watch him breathlessly as he tugs against your bottoms, and your clothing articles drop to your ankles. Yunho doesn’t let them touch the ground, instead, he folds it hastily onto the other side of the bed, before turning his attention back to you, or your wet and sopping pussy.

Yunho licks his lips, before stroking your thighs to coax you to spread your legs open, and you do, your eyes following the way his fingers are stroking your thigh, alongside the ticklish feeling it was sending straight to your cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy, doll”, he compliments, his fingers trailing down your slicked cunt, before stopping right at your hole. He hears your little whimpers and cries, and it goes right to his hardened cock that’s pushing against his pants. But he knows being patient reaps the best rewards. He can be patient for you. Yunho’s fingers slowly plunge into your cunt, and your back arches in pleasure, because oh my fucking god, his fingers are long enough to hit a spongy area and it was sending fucking stars beneath your eyelids. Shivers tickle your spine as Yunho’s lips land soft kisses against your skin on your neck. His finger fucking was sending you into the heavens.

A kiss on your cheeks makes your eyes flutter open, and you meet Yunho’s gaze.

“I’ve noticed”, he sighs, slowing down his finger fucking in you. “That you seem really entranced by my hands since our first session.” Then he plunges his fingers in again, another cry leaving your lips as your eyes roll back.

Fuck. He found out.

“You have such pretty hands”, you admit, hiding your face with your arms, wondering what was more embarrassing—the fact that he found out about your fixation with his hands, or that he’s fucking your cunt with said fingers.

“So I should make really good use of it, right?” Yunho chuckles, adoring the way you’re squirming under his touch. He pulls your hands off your face and holds them down, and oh god, he was truly trying to drive you insane. He picks up the pace and every time his fingers press against your g-spot, your moans only grew louder and more desperate, and Yunho is progressively losing his rationale. He wants to fuck you so bad right now, and the thought of him railing you on his workspace only heightened his arousal, because he has never done that before.

Your orgasm only builds up even more quickly when he thumbs your clit after releasing your hands. Your hands are clawing his arms.

“Yunho, please. Oh god. That feels so fucking good. Gonna cum.”, you cry, lifting your legs higher, and that only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, and the words that leave his lips-“cum on my fingers baby. You know you want to”- and a whimper escapes his lips the moment he feels your walls clench against his fingers, as moans pours out of you when your orgasm floods your senses. Yunho lets you ride your orgasm out, slowly pushing his fingers in and out again, enjoying your cunt squeezing his fingers. He pulls out slowly and you barely catch your breath, as your gaze meet his. His fingers are full of your slick and cream, and plasters it on his lips, giving them a lick before sucking this pretty fingers, covered in your arousal, fucking clean. That does nothing but throw your head into a frenzy, and your cunt clenches at nothing, as you struggle to keep your composure.

But now Yunho is the one starting to lose it, as he haphazardly wipes his fingers on his slacks before hastily pulling his pants down, his cock springing out, glimmering with precum already, very evident thanks to the studio lights. God fuck, as if his hands weren’t pretty enough, his dick is too. Yunho bites his lip, staring at how fucked out you looked, especially since he hasn’t even fucked you good yet. He pushes your knees to bend even more, before lining his cockhead to your hole before sinking his cock right into you. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open at this point. Your cunt feels slightly sore, and your walls are hugging his cock so well that Yunho is fighting not to just fuck you senseless. Yunho groans at the sensation, but he leans in for another hungry kiss with you, before his hand snakes around your neck.

He pulls back. “I’m sorry. I really need to fuck you so bad right now. Fuck.” You can’t help but find that so endearing that he’s holding back. Your fingers tug your folds open more, letting him sink his cock further deeper into your heat, which makes him squeeze your throat. It feels so fucking amazing to have Yunho choke you out like this, and you make it even more evident by clenching around his cock.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, and starts fucking you so deep and good, that you fucking swear you see a bulge below your belly button every time his cock hits your cervix. The sensation of Yunho’s cock stuffing you full every time he thrusts into you paired with his hands around your neck—softly squeezing and letting go—is only pushing your second orgasm to hit you.

“I would have never guessed that you’d get off my hands this much”, Yunho hums, looking at the way your eyes are rolled back as his balls slap your ass every time he fucks into you, your hands grabbing onto his arm, clawing again from the bliss he’s fucking you into. “Do you like them that much?”

You fight every nerve to focus on answering him, eyebrows scrunched. “Y-yeah. Fuck, I fantasise you choking me out like this since that day. I dream about letting you do whatever you want to me with your han-“ getting cut off from a sob as his cock fills you up again—or did he just grow even bigger in you? Ah, fuck, it doesn’t matter.

“Naughty girl”, Yunho mutters with a smirk, his free hand slapping against your ass, the sound rippling through the room, making you arch your back even more.

“Yunho, p-please’, you stutter, the knot in your stomach so taut. “I think I’m gonna cum again”. Now you’re sobbing. This only encourages Yunho to tighten his grip around your neck as his strokes become harder, and you snap—broken sobs leaving your throat as your cunt fucking squeezes Yunho’s cock, the sensation of his hands around your neck only amplifies your orgasm as stars burst in your eyelids, and you cream so fucking much, that it gets onto the cling wrapped bed below you. Yunho immediately loses it, his thrusts becoming straight up ruts. He releases his grip from your neck, and the oxygen returns immediately, leaving your heaving. Yunho is leaning into your ear, as his both hands are now on your waist as he fucks desperately into your overstimulated cunt.

“You’re so fucking adorable, y/n. I’m cumming too”, he grunts, as he ruts a final time before a soft moan hits your ears, then a flood of his warm cum right into your spent pussy, and oh god, did that feel amazing. Yunho stays by your side for a moment, before straightening his back, and pulling out, not missing a beat at the way his cum just trickles down your inner thigh, out of your hole.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. This is your work space and all”, you panic, taking a handful of tissues that Yunho had offered to clean yourself up. Evidently, that doesn’t get to him because Yunho immediately rushes over the moment he notices the red marks around your neck.

“Shit, did I choke you too hard?” He asks rather frantically, lifting your chin up, rubbing against your neck gently. You shake your head, suddenly wanting to just kiss him again, but you hold yourself back. “Also, don’t worry about this. My next appointment isn’t until 4pm. I have time to clean up. You alright though?”

Fuck, why did he have to be hot and gentle? It was genuinely driving you nuts. “Is it okay if I use the toilet?” You ask, fitting your clothes on. Yunho immediately nods, rushing to the door to leave it open for you, as you gingerly head to the washroom.

You sigh as you leave the washroom, wondering if it was about to simply be a one time thing, because you were falling for your tattoo artist, hard and fast. Your gaze meets Yunho’s the moment you shut the door behind you, and Yunho has cleaning supplies in his hands. Suddenly your face flushes again, thinking at the mess the both you made.

Yunho’s smile doesn’t falter though, and you see a tint of red colouring the tips of his ears, which you could have definitely missed if you hadn’t noticed closely. There’s a strange air of silence between the both of you, that is, until Yunho speaks.

“My 4pm client is my last one for the day. I’ll text you when I’m done, if you’re down for dinner?” He asks, rubbing the nape of his neck shyly. Oh my fucking god. You laugh softly, because, holy shit, you never expected this outcome, and then you nod. “I’ll be waiting, Yunho”, you reply.

Yunho steps forward to you and strokes your head. “I’ll see you to the door then. And then I’ll see you tonight.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #Yunho ateez #y/n x yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader

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romanoffsdarling · 7 months

Text

Later Never Comes

Pairing: CEO!Silver-Fox!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your love for her knew no bounds, but there’s only so long you can hold on— only so many empty promises you can stand— before you finally have to let go. Before you finally realize that later may never become real.

Word Count: 4,779

Warnings: G!P Wanda, legal age gap, brief oral (R receiving), dirty (and slightly possessive) talk, mommy kink, slightly rough sex, neglect, and angst (with a bittersweet ending). 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I know I promised a second part to Summertime Sadness and Time To Say (Goodbye), but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I hope you can forgive me!

Great love always ends in tragedy.

That’s the saying, right? A stupid one if you had anything to say about it. What’s so great about love if it only ends in heartbreak? If you don’t end up with the person that makes your entire being thrum? If everything that had once been so colorful is suddenly black-and-white due to their absence?

Is the love great due to the story? To the emotions, the events, that occur throughout its long winded saga? Or is it great because it was doomed from the start? Because, even though it’d end one way, two people were still willing to fight the odds, to fight fate, even if they’d never end up winning.

You’re not sure, nor do you care, because there’s no way a love of that kind could be anything except terrible— except bone-chillingly agonizing in the way you’d have to figure out how to move on without it. Figure out how to be without the person that made everything make sense, that made you feel like the person you were always meant to be.

Even if it’s been years since you’ve seen her, years since you’ve felt her lips against yours, an elegantly lithe body pressed to your own, and the sweet scent of sandalwood and lavender mixed perfectly in your nose, you haven’t been able to figure that out. Haven’t been able to get her out of your system, no matter how much you may try.

How could you? When you’ve loved, and been loved by, Wanda Maximoff?

[Past]

“I’m just saying she’s been interested to meet you since she saw our group picture from Fiji.” Your best friend, Agatha, relayed, jovially leading you towards the small, yet upscale, café that Wanda Maximoff— CEO of Scarlet Entertainment— agreed to meet you. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetie. Especially one that came about due to my own propensity to lose bets with that witch.”

Your brow furrows. “I’m just not sure what exactly this meeting is supposed to be about. I just graduated college, I barely have any experience under my belt.”

“But you have me as a mentor,” she rebukes, a small smirk on her lips. “And that’s all that you need to get into Wanda’s head.”

“Ah, yes.” You roll your eyes, amusement welling within your chest. “How could I forget about your age-old rivalry?”

“Don’t phrase it like that. Makes me sound old.” Agatha bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes narrowed.

“And mentor doesn’t?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’. “That makes me sound wise.”

“And what does wisdom come from again?”

You’re just able to dodge the swat directed at your arm, a bright smile tugging your lips upward, as you finally enter the quaint café— the aromatic smell of coffee, a hint of cinnamon, and something slightly citrusy, hits you all at once. A combination that shouldn’t have worked as well it did.

Once you placed your order— a simple coffee with your usual additions— you turned back to Agatha with an expectant expression. “Anything I should know about this meetings, Ags?”

She shakes her head, tendrils of brown hair escaping the haphazard bun she had thrown them in. “You’re here.” Agatha hands you the drink the barista had just put beside you, a wane smile on her lips. “That’s the important part to achieve for any date.”

Your steps stutter, nearly causing you to trip into a nearby table. “W-What?” Widened eyes meet Agatha’s unaffected one, a certain level of calmness that you found irritating. “What do you mean date? I thought this was a meeting?”

Agatha waves her hand. “Lunch meeting, lunch date. Means the same thing in the end.” She shoulders her purse, clearly not planning on staying any longer than she has to. “You’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a catch. Maximoff would have to be a bigger idiot than I think she already is if she lets you go.”

Before you’re able to respond, Agatha places a chaste kiss to your cheek, offers one last cheeky wink, and saunters her way out of the café, leaving you completely alone. You’re honestly tempted to just abandon ship and get out of dodge— you weren’t good on dates, let alone blind dates. Something your best friend is well aware of, and would definitely be getting in an earful about this later.

However, before you’re able to make a concrete decision on your exit strategy, a husky voice speaks up from behind you.

“Are you Y/N?”

The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen stood in front of you when you turned around: long auburn hair, speckled with the beginning signs of gray, paired perfectly with the sharp emerald green of her gaze. An elegantly lithe body, encased in a form-fitting suit, tailored made to enhance every perfect curve, relaxed in a way that almost seemed arrogant— if it was for the confidence that exudes from her very being.

“Yes.” Your brain finally catches up with you, remembering the question she had asked. “Y/N.” You hold out your hand for her to shake. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A small smile catches full lips, a slender hand grasping your own in a firm shake. “Wanda Maximoff.” Green eyes trail down your body. “And, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

The months that followed the blind date went by in a blur. You could honestly say that you’ve never met anyone else like Wanda Maximoff— a woman that personified ice and fire. Watching her work— whether it be as you’re lounged on her large leather sectional, laptop balanced on her lap as slender fingers gently stroke your back, or she’s pacing back and forth with her phone pressed to her ear; voice dripping with barely concealed annoyance, underlined by a calm collectiveness that never failed to make you swoon— was an art form in itself, but being able to see the woman that appeared at the end of the day?

Where an icy facade of professionalism melts into warm smile and gentle eyes. Sharp words being replaced by sweet nothings and gentle humming.

In Wanda’s arms you’ve found a place you never even knew you were missing— home. You had a couple relationships in the past, but none of them made you feel the way Wanda does; all paling in comparison to the beautiful Sokovian.

The one thing you hadn’t expected upon beginning to date the older woman was how insatiable she was— not that you were complaining— but Wanda needed to have you as often as she could. Taking you the bedroom of your apartment, the various rooms in her penthouse, in her office within Scarlet Entertainment, hell even in the back of a limo on the way to an event. Wanda needed to have you and you needed to have her right back.

Another little thing you’ve learned about her? Or, you should say, not so little? The Sokovian sported an extra appendage that had quickly become your new best friend— not that you were going to tell Agatha that— who seemed to want you as much as Wanda did.

Which is how you found yourself where you are now— on your back, thighs clamped around Wanda’s head, as she thoroughly ate you out on the couch of her office.

“Yes.” You arch sharply, a sob being torn from your throat as Wanda’s tongue plunges even deeper into you. Your girlfriend hums happily at the sound, the vibrations sending a shockwave across your clit, and another wave of wetness gushes out of you— something that Wanda is all too happy to lap up. She had told you on more than one occasion, after she spent hours upon hours between your thighs, that you beat out even the finest of wines to her. “Please. I need you.”

With clear reluctance to leave, Wanda pulls back and easily settles on top of you. Lips and chin shining lewdly in the dim lighting of her office, darkened emerald eyes sparkling even brighter.

“You taste great, detka.” She lowers her head, offering her tongue for you to suck on. Giving you a taste of yourself, mixed intoxicatingly with her own natural one. “Could spend hours eating up your perfect pussy, but that’s not what you want, huh?” She jerks her hips, rubbing her cock against your wetness. “You want mommy to be inside you, right? Want her to stretch you out and make you scream?” Another roll of her hips causes you to arch, a breathless gasp leaving you, but Wanda doesn’t relent. “Answer me, detka. Be my good girl and I’ll give you what you crave. What do you want mommy to do?”

“Fuck me.” The cry is practically wrenched from your chest, a deep felt plea for her to just plunge into you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that she hasn’t been able to accomplish that already. “I want you to slam your cock into my pussy and make me yours, mommy. I want your cock to make my pussy its own, to shape me in its image.”

A deep, almost rumbling, snarl erupts from Wanda in response, her hips snapping forward and you’re finally filled; stretched out so fucking perfectly, an obscene slurp echoed across the room the moment Wanda’s hips met your own. She hadn’t made you cum with her mouth, but you had been so close, she had given you a mini orgasm just by entering— a feat that brings a smug smile to Wanda’s lips.

“You feel that, detka.” She takes your hand and brings it down to the slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “That’s my cock ruining you for anyone else. No one will ever be able to fill you the way I do, make you scream yourself hoarse.” Wanda snaps her hips forward after a shallow pull-back, giving out a satisfied hum at the feeling of your slick walls pressed around her. “Your pussy belongs to me, your pleasure belongs to me, and you belong to me.”

Wanda lowers her head, lips pressed firmly to your own, giving you even more of a taste of yourself than before, as her tongue practically fucks your mouth while her cock fucks your pussy. When she detaches her lips from yours, only a thin trail of saliva is left, before she’s far enough away for it to snap.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d be concerned about the noise level if Wanda hadn’t sent Peter, her assistant, home early— having planned to have you like this from the very moment she had invited you over.

“Just like that, mommy. Keep fucking me like that,” you babble, drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.

The tight contractions around her cock— as your second orgasm was much more powerful than your first— causes Wanda to groan, hips stuttering in their brutal pace. It’s clear that she was close, sweat slicked brow, causing strands of silver hair to cling to fair skin, but she obviously wanted you to come one last time— to be tossed over the edge with her.

With a shake breath, Wanda roughly brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, not even giving you time to fully get through the second. “One more, detka. You’ve got one more in you for mommy.” She dips her head, lips tenderly brushing across your forehead. “And when you come around mommy’s cock, I’m gonna fill you up like the good girl you are. Would you like that?”

You nod, practically whining. “Yes. Please.”

The older woman snarls once more, clearly affected by the look on your face, and, before you’re even aware of it, you’re crashing over the edge again— a cry of Wanda’s name passing over your lips as you spasm around her. Barely being able to catch Wanda’s own groan in response: “Yes.”

Jets of her cum paint your inner walls white, warming you up. It’s a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to— or want to get used to, if you’re being honest.

Once she’s spent, Wanda gently lowers herself onto your still slightly spasming body, lips pressed softly against your cheek. “You did so good. So perfect for me. My beautiful girl.”

You happily nuzzle into Wanda’s neck, eyes drooping out of contented exhaustion. “I love you.”

You’re too out of it to feel Wanda stiffen in surprise, or to really understand what you had just whispered, but you are aware of Wanda’s arms tightening around you, her lips pressing more firmly against your skin, as she cuddles you closer to her.

And, as you begin to drift off completely, happy in Wanda’s arms, you faintly feel Wanda exhale across the shell of your ear, a shaky breath, uncharacteristic for the older woman, before her soft voice breaks through the silence: “I love you too. More than I ever thought I’d love anyone.”

[A Few Months Later…]

“How many do you want?”

It’s asked softly, one of Wanda’s hand gently running up-and-down your back in a soothing motion. Her lips pressed against the crown of your head, your face nuzzled against the crook of her neck, a place you don’t feel like leaving anytime soon.

“How many what?” You snuggle closer, delighted in the way her arms tighten instinctively. “I want a lot of things, Wands.”

Wanda huffs out a light chuckle. “Children, Y/N. How many children do you want?”

You stiffen in surprise at the question— Wanda hadn’t made it a secret that she didn’t plan on having kids. That she didn’t think she’d make a good mother due to her childhood and her busy lifestyle, but you also know that your girlfriend wouldn’t ask something unless she’s serious about the answer. Something you’ve figured out after all these months together. Regrettably, you pull your face away from the warm nest it had made so you’re able to look at her, and Wanda met your eyes calmly, sharp green softened in a way that’s only ever meant for you.

“What’s this about, Wanda?” You roll your lips, trying to process your next words carefully. “I thought you didn’t want kids?”

Emerald eyes flash warmly. “I didn’t want a lot of things, Y/N.” She easily tugs you back into her arms, lips pressed to your forehead. “But that was all before I met you.”

Touched by her words— and the clear sincerity within them— you decide to just bite the bullet, there wasn’t a point in delaying your answer. Especially if Wanda expected it.

“Two.” A gentle kiss is placed to her collarbone. “I want two boys. Twins.”

She breathes out another chuckle. “Twins, huh?” Maneuvering you both, you’re suddenly pressed against the mattress, Wanda hovering over you, smile still in place, with a familiar hardness nestled between your thighs. “That seems like something we’d have to get just right, correct?”

Even though it’s posed as question, you can tell that Wanda meant it rhetorically. That she already knew the answered you’d both settle on— an answer you always agreed upon.

Wiggling your hips, grinning mischievously at the sharp gasp that leaves Wanda’s lips at the added pressure, you throw your arms loosely around her neck.

“Yes.” You pull her closer, lips millimeters from her own. “I think it’s something we’re going to have practice quite a bit.”

Not needing any more prompting Wanda descends onto you with a ravenous hunger. One that you’re all too happy to match.

You can’t wait to experience your future if this is what’ll be waiting for you there.

The phone is cold against your overheated flesh— a concoction of anger and disappointment courses through you like lava.

“Wanda—” You pinch the bridge of your nose to stem the tide of anger. “This is the eighth time this week alone. What the hell am I supposed to tell the caterers? Again.”

A soft sigh resounds through the speaker. “Just tell them that I won’t be able to make it, Y/N.” The response, in a clearly distracted tone, does little to ease your growing ire. “I know you’ll be able to handle it.”

“I don’t want to handle it, Wanda. This is our wedding, I’d like for you to also have a say in it.” From the time on the clock, you didn’t have much time left to leave the penthouse. Not if you wanted to get to the appointment on time. “I’ve been planning this entire thing by myself, I want your help. I want to hear your opinions. I want you.”

To care goes without words, but you’re certain it rings out just the same. You had been so happy when Wanda had suddenly proposed, seemingly out of the blue. Though wasn’t that the point? Taking you to a rooftop restaurant, which she had rented out, and offered you the rare chance of getting to taste her impeccable cooking; all dishes she had learned from her mother back in Sokovia. It had been a night you’d forever cherish, memories forever ingrained in your heart: the way the stars made the green in Wanda’s eyes sparkle more, the subtle wind allowing you to be surrounded by her comforting scent, the bright smile she had given you when she dropped down to one knee, and the happy laugh that had escaped her when you said yes. It had been a fairytale, everything you had ever wanted.

Until you realized your Disney fairytale was beginning to turn into Brothers Grimm.

“You have me, Y/N.” Wanda lets out another sigh. “Look, I can’t keep talking the investors for the meeting just arrived and I need to get prepared. I promise that I’ll go over everything you discuss later, okay? I love you.”

“Wanda—”

You’re only met with the sound of the dial tone, barely getting the chance to reply before being hung up on, and the familiar aching sense of silence that follows— a hollow sound that distantly reminded you of what your heart has become.

It hadn’t always been like this. The penthouse, upon your first visit, had been cold, lifeless in a way that seemed almost inhuman, but slowly it had livened up— been filled with a sense of warmth and peace. Of love. It had been a place you could go to when you just needed an escape from the rest of the world, when you needed to be surrounded by things that remind you of the woman you love.

Now it’s suffocating in a way that you never wished for it to be.

You’re aware that Wanda is a busy woman— had been aware of it before your first date occurred— but she had always at least tried to be there. Always left you feeling like you were at least on the list of things that mattered, you didn’t necessarily need to be at the direct top; not when she had so many things to content with already. But, you’ve felt like nothing more than an afterthought lately.

Gentle kisses in the morning turned to brief parting words as she made her way quickly out the door.

Soft smiles, and inside jokes, turned to barely there quirks of full lips, and stretched out silences.

The warmth of her hold, the safety you felt from her touch, turned to an icy chill as she left you to the cold air— you don’t even remember when the last time was that you had been together properly. Since you had woken up in her arms.

You didn’t need a lot, you didn’t need all of her time, but you wanted to feel like you still mattered— that everything you have isn’t just another thing Wanda had marked off on her checklist of things to do before she turns 55.

Checking the time, a small curse leaves your lips once you realize that you’re going to be late, and, with one final glance towards the empty penthouse, you make your way out the door— hoping that the growing chill you feel isn’t indicative of a love grown cold.

Silence had become your greatest friend in the weeks that followed. The one thing that you’ve grown to count on as Wanda’s schedule only seemed to get busier and busier— hell, your relationship with her personal assistant had grown to the point that he’s been calling you by your first name now. Instead of the usually nervous ma’am or Ms. L/N.

Wedding appointments had come and gone, all of them spent alone, with Wanda barely perusing the choices that had been made before crashing out of sheer exhaustion. Conversation had grown stilted due to her own growing ire at you consistent worry— although she labeled it as nagging. That she’s been running her business for over thirty years, and she’s been doing fine.

Even now, on New Years Eve, as the clock moved ever closer to midnight, you were completely alone— expansive shadows, that seemed darker somehow, stretched out towards you like ghastly fingers, trying to tear whatever semblance of comfort you’ve found away. You’re not sure what you had been expecting, not even sure if you’d truly believed that Wanda would show herself, but you can’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped.

Hoped that today, of all days, would be different. That you wouldn’t feel like a stranger, an intruder, within your own life, within your own home.

Fanciful musings and hopes of a lovestruck fool.

The small chirp of an incoming message pulls you from your reverie, a bright smile appearing instantly at the sight of who it’s from, before withering away once you read it: Sorry, I won’t be able to make it home tonight. Going to the Hamptons to meet some new business partners. I promise I’ll make it up to you later. I love you.

You don’t bother to send a message back— what could you possibly say? Yet another promise had been thrown to the wayside by the older woman. Even if it was just a cursory, and unspoken, one being as simple as not leaving your fiancé alone on New Years. Or waiting until the last minute to actually say anything about it.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, an acidic twang settling over your tongue, as bitterness seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning your heart and soul. You knew what you needed to do, have known since this had become your new normal, but hadn’t had the strength, or the courage, to make it a reality. Until now.

Until the heartbreak, the suffering, has become as close of a friend to you as the oppressive silence.

And, as the door to the penthouse gently closed behind you, never to be opened by your hand again, you feel a sense of bone-deep sorrow settle over you. For everything that could have been, for what you had hoped for, and all that you now had to live without. You could just step back inside, hide or destroy the letter, and Wanda would never know. She’d never find out how close you had been to giving up, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so. Could no longer gather up the power to keep fighting for something that’s been lost long ago— no matter how much your heart screams at it not being true.

Tears gather in your eyes as you take another step away from the door, away from the place you’ve lived in for the last two years, and your heart breaks with every step. But, it breaks even more at the knowledge that you were leaving your true home behind too— that doing this would destroy everything you have with Wanda, never to be salvaged. The penthouse may be expensive, and it may be beautiful, but it’d never be home to you like Wanda; it’d never offer you the same feeling of protection like her arms did.

You’ve been shut out of your home for months now, and being left out in the cold has finally frozen your heart enough for you to be able to do this. No matter how much more it was going to hurt once it thaws once more.

Shouldering your duffel bag, the only thing you’ve allowed yourself to bring, you step into the private elevator and press the button for the lobby. Hands tightening around the strap of the bag, trying to ignore the way your ring finger no longer felt the familiar press of metal against it as you do so.

It was time to look forward, to finally make your own laters, the things you had been pushing off, become an actuality.

Even if you wanted nothing more than to have never needed to say goodbye to Wanda Maximoff in the first place.

Losing the ring was one thing, but losing the love of your life?

It’s a wound you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to recover from.

[Present]

“Mom?” The small voice catches your attention, your eyes focused back in to see bright eyes, twin grins being sported between the pair. “Can we still get hot chocolate?”

Billy and Tommy had come into your life when you needed them to most— a blessing that you’d definitely been searching for after everything imploded with Wanda. And, even if how they were conceived didn’t lend itself to a happy tale, you’d never change a thing. They were your twin miracles. Your beautiful baby boys— even if they were eight years old now.

“I thought you decided to get caramel popcorn instead?” You poke Billy’s side gently, delighted in the giggle the actions caused. “That’s what you both told me at the theater.”

Tommy’s eyes widened dramatically, in full puppy-dog mode. “But that was before you took us past our favorite store.” He points to the small café only a few feet away— one that you frequented with the twins when you could find the time. A place that you hadn’t even realized you’d be leading them towards. “Can we please get hot chocolate.”

The twins chime in unison: “Please.”

You chance a glance towards the café— deliberating your options— but you know that you’re going to cave. After all, the reason you had gone to the movies was to celebrate their stellar report cards. What harm could some extra hot chocolate do?

So, with a faux long-suffering sigh, you relent. “I suppose.”

“Yes!” Twin cheers are your immediate response, brightening the smile on your lips, and you soon find yourself in the quaint café— one that held so many memories for you. Phantoms of your past the whispered in your ear as you placed your order and directed your boys to their usual spot.

Only half-listening to their chatter about the movie you had just seen— some superhero film— you simply bask in the simplicity their joy brought you. Observing their small faces light up, little hands waving around as they discussed various points, and your heart swells with more love than you ever thought you could feel.

“—What did you think, mom?”

Billy’s sudden question tears you from your musings, his widened eyes, alight with excitement, giving you the impression that he really wanted to hear what you thought.

“About the movie?” They both nod. “I thought it was good, bug.”

Tommy pouts. “Yeah, but what did you like most about it? Did you have a favorite scene?”

“I—”

“Order for Y/N.”

Saved by the bell, you think. A wave of relief crashing over you. “You two stay put.” Standing, you ruffle their hair. “I’ll be right back with our drinks.”

At the prospect of their hot chocolate they don’t seem to mind that you didn’t answer their question— though you’d certain Tommy would ask you again. Though you’d have more than enough time to google some things about the movie before then. Small miracles.

Stopping at the counter, you take the tray with the drinks with a smile and a nod in greeting to the server you’ve grown quite fond of.

“Y/N?”

Breath catching in your throat at the husky voice sounding out behind you, the cadence and tone so familiar that your heart still burns from it. Hesitating only slightly, you turn and meet the shimmering emerald eyes you haven’t seen in a little over eight years. Her face still as beautiful as you’d last seen it, if a bit older now.

“Wanda.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagines #later never comes

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storiesoflilies · 13 days

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an italian summer with satoru gojo was opulent: sandalwood-scented breezes, delicate hints of lavender and lime, lemon trees bowing gracefully over narrow cobbled stairways, and chiffon curtains blowing over open bay windows. the very best suite that money could buy overlooked the sea, with a private infinity pool carved into the natural rock of the cliff, as if it was always meant to be there.

their deep wine glasses chimed as they clinked them together. satoru dripped with a rich saccharine ease as he pinched the stem of his glass, swirling the white wine as he sipped tentatively, tasting and savoring with practiced finesse.

she tilted her head, caressing the wine over the tip of her tongue before swallowing. satoru gazed at her with twinkling cerulean stars, waiting with bated breath. “do you like it, my love?” he hummed expectantly, adoringly. “think you could share a bottle with me?”

all of this was for her, you see. completely booking out a restaurant over a cliff on the amalfi coast, turquoise tyrrhenian sea crashing against the rocks just below them, sending a spray of salt and mysteries even this high up.

“yeah,” she replied, smiling softly, a breeze running through the pink silk ribbons in her hair, lips painted in a glossy blush.

satoru’s lip curled upwards as he turned to nod at the waiter, who poured them both a full glass and left the bottle chilling in a ice-cold silver bucket, condensation trailing down the outside onto the white tablecloth. he pulled her chair closer to his, and his aroma overwhelmed her in a woody citrus haze, touches of jasmine smoothing the edges of him into her like a melting ice cube.

“are you happy, my love?” he whispered, full of reverence and all things holy and tender, his plush lips tickling the lobe of her ear. “is this what you wanted?”

she giggled innocently, pearly teeth flashing in the afternoon sun-haze. “you didn’t have to do all this for me. i would have still been happy eating italian takeaway at home.”

satoru scoffed and waved his hand, his honey lips skimming over the soft curve of her neck. “absolutely not. only the best for my pretty girl.”

she surrendered to his touch, his teeth nibbling and teasing as she sighed in ecstasy. she wanted to stay here forever, trapped in a watercolor painting of this moment; strokes in hues of baby pinks and blues, with golden light kissing down the crinkles of his linen shirt.

“satoro,” she whined, setting down her wineglass before any of its precious contents spilled, as his frosty-white hair tickled her jawline. “someone’s going to see us.”

“then let them. let them see how much i love you in a place almost as beautiful as you. let them see and crave what we have.”

a kiss on her cupid’s bow.

“they can never have this.”

a kiss in the space between her brows.

“they can never have you.”

@venusiansilk i hope you have even a just little smile on your face after this, and your dreams tonight are of italian summers with your love <3

#💭 lily’s imagination runs wild #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo fic #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen

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yandere-daydreams · 9 months

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Title: A Cat On The Shrine Roof.

Pairing: Yandere!Ei x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Nekomata!Ei, Kidnapping, Mind-Control, and Non-Consensual Touching.

It was your fault, really. For not listening when the priestess told you not to linger at the shrine.

The head priestess had cautioned you against it, her painted lips (a sign of vanity uncommon among women in her position) quirking upward as she warned you of the monsters waiting in the forest who would love nothing more than to gobble up little acolytes who shirk their responsibilities. She told you, in no unexplicit terms, to make your offering, recite your prayers, and hurry back to the village as quickly as you could, but you hadn’t thought to listen for sincerity in her playful tone, to wonder if their way any advice in the childish nursery rhythms she half-sung as she prepared the bundle of rice and saké and silver coins you were to leave on the doorstep. If you’d listened, you might not have been so slow-footed as you wandered through the forest, stopping every few minutes to pick wildflowers or admire the way the sunlight bled through the tree canopy. If you’d listened, you might’ve been so preoccupied with your prayers that you wouldn’t have noticed the muffled sound of a shamisen, wouldn’t have let your curiosity get the better of you and ventured into the decrepit shrine.

If you’d listened, you wouldn’t be standing in front of a monster, praying to every god you’ve ever worshiped that its appetite had already been sated by some other foolish traveler.

It had to be a monster. It had to be. The creature sitting in front of you was undeniably a hybrid, but what kind, you wouldn’t dare to guess. For the most part, she looked like a cat; sleek ears rising out of her neatly braided hair, black-furred paws sitting where her feet should’ve been, hints of pointed teeth hanging over her bottom lip, but the idea that you’d stumbled onto the den of a stray housecat broke down as you went on.

Where there should’ve been one tail sprouting from the base of her spine, there were two, the end of each wrapped in a violet ribbon, and she was far, far taller than any hybrid you’d ever seen. Even sitting on the floor, bent over her instrument, the top of her head was level with your midriff, and you could see evidence of lean muscle underneath her traditional kimono. Most unsettling of all were her eyes – slit pupils sitting in a sea of iridescent lavender, not unsimilar to the color of lightning as it arced through the sky. For a second, while the rational part of your mind was still blank with panic, it occurred to you that meeting her unblinking stare might leave you as scared as its more eye-catching counterpart, but you tried not to think about that. If you let yourself believe she could end you with little more than a glance, you were already done for.

She broke the silence, surprisingly. “Oh,” she started, clearly more than a little surprised herself. “You must be one of Miko’s.”

Your tongue felt heavy, your throat dry. You didn’t realize you were talking until you heard the sound of your own voice. “P-please don’t eat me.”

The stuttered plea earned a pair of widened eyes, a breath of a laugh. “So, you are one of Miko’s. I should’ve known she’d be spreading rumors about me.” She laid her shamisen across her lap, careful to keep her curved talons from scratching the wood. “I’m assuming you know who I am?”

Jerkily, you shook your head, and she softened in response, her expression taking on a sympathetic lilt. “Oh, poor thing. You must’ve been terrified.” You had been. You still were. The only reason you weren’t shaking was because you were too scared to move. “I thought we would’ve been well-acquainted, considering how many times I’ve heard your prayers.”

Instantly, your heart dropped in your chest. Hastily, you fell into a shallow bow, clenching your eyes shut and cursing yourself for not making the connection sooner. “Narukami Ogosho, Almighty Mistress of Thunder, I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“Call me Ei. There’s no need for titles here.” If she was offended by your obliviousness, you weren’t able to hear her anger, to make anything other than pity and a vague sense of amusement out in her expression. You could only be thankful. If meeting her eyes would be enough to kill you, you couldn’t imagine how you’d fare if she actually decided to seek retribution. “Come, sit with me.”

“With all do respect, I think the priestess is—”

“Sit with me.”

You didn’t want to. You were still frozen where you stood, still trying to summon the courage to run, but that didn’t seem to matter. Your body moved on its own, drawn forward by some invisible set of strings, a soft melody playing somewhere in the distance as you stumbled closer to the creature, closer to Ei. You didn’t so much sit next to her as fall into place at her side – your knees buckling and leaving you to catch yourself before you could fully hit the ground.

After you’d settled into a rigid, unsteady sort of kneeling pose, Ei reached out, letting her knuckles brush against your cheek before taking you by the chin. “You might be the loveliest she’s sent so far.” If she’d been tall at a distance, she was massive now. Her hand alone was enough to stretch across the length of your jaw, and you could picture her, no matter how hard you tried not to, crushing your skull with one decisive movement. Your vision blurred, your breathing growing rapid, but if your fear was visible, she didn’t seem to warrant it worth her attention. “I did tell her not to send anything else, but…” A contemplative hum, a padded thumb pressed into your cheek. “She has always been so tricky, hasn’t she? I don’t know what could possibly make a mortal so brazen.”

The melody was getting louder. The musician must’ve been sitting outside of the shrine. “Mistress, I really have to get back to the—”

“You’ll stay here.” Louder, now, as if the strings were being plucked only a hair’s width from your ear. You should’ve run. You should’ve prayed to something else. “You’ll stay here, with me, and you will never stray farther than I can follow. Isn’t that right?”

Eagerly, desperately, you nodded, tears running freely down your cheeks as you rushed to take her hand by the wrist, to press yourself into her palm. Ei chuckled, the sound laced with a reverberating purr.

“I’m glad you agree.”

The music had grown deafening, and yet, you couldn’t seem to imagine listening to anything other the sound of her voice.

“It would be a shame to have to refuse such a fine offering.”

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shes2real · 2 months

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Caught ♡

Featuring 🌷: rhea ripley + female!reader

Warning ☁️: masturbation, voyeurism, fingering, face sitting, 18+ Minors, please don't interact. Thanks! ୨୧

Word count 🌷: 777

Scenario ☁️: Rhea catches you touching yourself.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

The room was adorned with hues of midnight blue and silver, and the air was infused with a delicate, lingering scent of lavender. The bed, a haven of comfort, beckoned with its plush pillows and inviting sheets. One side was ruffled, where you’d tossed and turned in the night, yearning for the warmth of your wife. The other side lay untouched, cool and pristine, a silent reminder of her absence.

You lay awake, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You were extremely horny, thinking of all of the rendezvous between you and her. Slipping your hands down to your panties, your fingers traced invisible patterns on the fabric, whimpering softly. You thought to yourself that maybe if you touched yourself, it’d help you fall asleep.

Slowly slipping your panties off, you thought about the time that Rhea allowed you to ride her thigh. The way her soft lips came into contact with yours as your wetness made it easier for you to grind against her exposed thigh, you felt yourself grow wetter as you began to rub your clit.

“Mmmm,” you whimpered as your eyes rolled. You began to whimper as you slowly put your middle finger into you, your tight walls clenched around your finger.

“Oh, yes! Mami,”

You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t notice that your wife was leaning against the door, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. With a smirk playing on her lips, she watched you pump your fingers in and out, grinding your hips as you chased your climax. Her gaze was sharp, piercing through the darkness with a hint of mischief.

“Yes baby?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of her, closing your legs and letting out a gasp, “Babe! I-“

“Did I give you permission?” She questioned, tone laced with venom, smiling devilishly.

"N-no but I was good while you were gone! Just missed you,” You whined as she walked over, analyzing you. With each passing moment, her teasing gaze seemed to pierce through your defenses, leaving you exposed and powerless beneath her scrutiny.

"That's not being good, doll. Y’know better than to touch what's mine." Rhea grabbed your knees, forcing your legs apart, giving your pussy a disapproving glare. As she gave your clit slow, circular rubs, her eyes remained on yours. “Can’t follow basic rules, can ya’?”

You’re losing all self control from just her gentle rubs on your bundle of nerves, your thighs began to quiver as your eyes rolled backwards. Rhea quickly pulls you closer to her and tugs on your throat, making you look at her,

“Answer me, doll.” She whispers.

"Yes, Mami."

"Mm, such a good girl." She hums, her thumb caressing your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter as she dips a finger into your entrance, curving it just right. She knew that you were going to cum from the way your hip buckled, all that could be heard was your needy moans,

“C..close,”

“Not yet,” Rhea mumbled, releasing her hand from your throat and pulling her finger from your fluttering core. “Get up.”

Following her commands, you slowly hopped off the bed while Rhea laid down where you once were. She propped her pillow beneath her head before simply declaring to you, “Sit.”

You didn't have to be told twice. You moaned softly, hopping onto the bed and carefully lowering your body onto Rhea’s face. It didn’t take long before you felt her cold tongue ring make contact with your pussy as she eagerly lapped and sucked.

“Ahh…” You shivered, causing Rhea to grip your hips tight. You were sure that crescent shapes were marked into your skin.

Your juices happily flowed as your taste began overtaking her entire mouth, causing her to eat you like you were a delicious treat. She moaned softly at your taste, causing your head to tilt slightly, “Ohhh fuck! Just…just like that,”

You began to slowly grind against her face as you felt a familiar sensation in your stomach. Rhea started to massage your pussy with the flat of her tongue, which drew a sudden cry from you. Instantly causing you to cry out for Rhea to give you more, "Baby! Don't stop!.."

As Rhea lapped up every drop of your sweet nectar, your entire body began spazzing as your orgasm rang through you. As you were in another dimension, you almost missed Rhea’s whispered question, "That felt better than those fingers, didn’t it?"

"Y-yes!” You hummed, easing off of her face. Rhea sits up slowly, kissing you passionately before giving you a smile, “We’re not finished yet, doll.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷

#wwe smut #wwe imagines #rhea ripley #mami rhea #rhea x reader #rhea ripley smut #rhea x female reader #drabble `♡´#demi bennett #rhea ripley wwe

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jacesvelaryons · 1 year

Text

it's yours.

REQUESTS OPEN

jacaerys (jace) velaryon x twin sister!reader

word count: 2.2k

rating: PG-13 (with hints of suggestiveness of you squint)

summary: jace returns from a voyage amassing wealth and knowledge like nothing before, yet after a year, it's only you he craves.

please like, comment, share and subscribe if you loved it! please share me your feedback on what you'd like. i'm open to requests from hotd characters especially jace, luke and daemon.

this is my first hotd fic here so please enjoy! thanks!

Your twin Jacaerys had always grown up beside you, raised by the hip by your mother Princess Rhaenyra and your father, who wasn’t exactly your father really Lord Laenor Velaryon, who stepped up to be the father that was there for every milestone for you and your siblings.

You have her Valyrian features, of silver hair and lavender eyes. Many ask for you hand, sing songs of my beauty, paint my likeness, but you refuse at the moment. You will not settle down or marry until I have decided and been courted properly. You know you offer much more than your beauty.

Jacaerys was away for a voyage with your grandsire Lord Corlys and Lucerys. He had returned much more learned, confident and more of a man than the boy he was the day he left, having grown taller and more muscular. Meanwhile, you have grown more womanly, shapely and beautiful. He holds a Valyrian steel necklace with amethysts in his hand, the steel shimmering in the sunlight.

“ Jace, you've returned!”

You run towards him, not caring how unlady like it seems when you pull up your skirts to not trip on your feet, and to get to him as soon as you can. He wraps his arms around you, more toned and buff than he was when he returned, slightly tanned from his time on voyage and a musky scent of sea salt lingered from him.

Jacaerys was back in your arms, alive and well in one piece and he was right here in the flesh. He pulls away from you, the smile on his face still there, as he takes in that he is back to you, and how you have changed in his absence.

He steps back in awe as he admires you, unbelieving how much you had transformed over the years.

“Oh, how you have grown sister.”

“So have you, Jace.” You smile sweetly, tension hanging in the air.

Digging into his pockets, he unveils a velvet case and opens it up to you, revealing a Valyrian steel necklace similar to your mother’s own, but studded with amethysts.

"It's yours, sister."

You gasp in shock, hands shaking as your eyes flicker between his tanned form and the pendant in his hands.

“You did not! I will not accept this.” Your smile can’t fall off your face as you cross your arms and turn away from him but he insists, holding the case over his shoulder.

“I insist, sister. For me, please?” He pleads with his signature hazel puppy eyes that he knows you can’t refuse and you sigh and shake your head as you surrender.

Jace grins in victory when you accept, taking your other hand in his and brushing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Turn around. Let me put it on you. I want to see my girl wearing my gift for her.”

Facing your back against him, you hear his footsteps creak against the wood of the dock as he comes closer to you, chest pressed against you, feeling every crevice of his muscle against your own.

As his warm breath tickles the crook where your shoulder meets your neck, you feel a shiver down your spine and your mouth is nearly agape by the time he locks the necklace before you put your hair down.

Turning you over by the waist, he admires his creation with a satisfied smirk and a hand on his chin.

“Beautiful. My, how you have blossomed into a great beauty sister. Even more than I have imagined in my wildest dreams.”

A blush formed on your cheeks as you shyly looked down,yet he caressed your face, prompting you to look him in the eye as he looked down on you, the height difference between you two more apparent than ever before.

“Don’t hide your beauty, my love. You have blossomed into a great beauty. I am sure every lord is lucky to be your suitor, clamoring for your hand.”

Gathering yourself, you smile and nod, grasping onto his forearm and feeling the breeze against your warm skin.

“Yes, many have tried and still persist. Yet none has caught my eye.”

“Truly? None?” He teases with a raised eyebrow as you both chuckle and you beckon him to join your family inside.

…

Jacaerys is welcomed back by the realm with open arms, heralded with weeks long celebrations and festivities. As he has his moment in the sun, you watch from the sidelines, observing quietly with a sense of pride and a drink in your hand as the kingdoms unanimously cheer and celebrate their future king.

Observing the sunset glowing into warm orange and pink and purple hues, as you stood by the balcony admiring the scenery, you did not expect him to appear by your side wordlessly, with a curious expression on his face.

“Been ignoring me, sister? How you have been wounded by pride, where I have been away so long and now you wish to be apart from me again?” He jests lightheartedly, posture relaxed as he rests his hips on the balcony next you.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his playful nature, an ease to himself that was not naturally found before his voyage, when he left as a scared, pensive and overthinking boy, and returned a confident, self assured, cultured and intelligent young man.

“I am not ignoring you at all. On the contrary, I wanted to give you your space for time in glory, so that the night would be all about you. The realm awaited your return and now they have their prince.” You defended yourself with a smile, sipping on your goblet.

He quirked an eyebrow amusedly. “And did you await your prince?”

Rolling your eyes, you put your drink down on the balcony and face him, standing right in front of him. His eyes followed your every move with piqued interest, an entertained smirk on his face as his hands tugged on the necklace on your neck possessively, the cold steel stinging deliciously onto your skin like a mark all over you.

“Of course I did. I wrote back to you every single time your letters arrived to me. Even when I wouldn’t get anything from you, I would hope for any word from grandsire or Luke, any message from you or any signs that you were alive.” You spoke defensively, as if offended by the accusation that you were indifferent towards him throughout all his eyes threading the dangerous seas.

“You did. How lovely to hear my sister cared so much for me. I saved every letter you sent.”

“Every letter?”

He nodded proudly, looking out briefly into the night skies before returning to seeing only you. “Every single one. I too was dismayed when I would not get a letter from you or missed a day from our messengers.”

“I thought you could have died while you were away, Jace! Or even…I thought you would have found the company of someone else and forgotten all about me back in Westeros.”

Jacaerys sneered in glee, resting his palms on your shoulders, feeling your bare skin on his rough, calloused palms and pushing you closer to his warmth. “Was my sister jealous of my travels?”

You scoffed and glared, avoiding his intense stare. “I am not! I was merely concerned for you and our family members’ well being. On behalf of the kingdom at large, I was concerned with making sure you, Luke and Grandpa Corlys came back home safe!”

He laughed in barely hidden amusement at your flustered expression. “You are adorable, aren’t you? Are you sure you were not wondering whether I was with another in more intimate situations? I was in exotic lands, so it must have-”

An ugly, all-consuming tugged at the pit of your stomach as he described the picture, rearing its ugly head as you wished to drown out any visions of him physically entangled with another.

You feigned indifference, raising your chin proudly and crossing your arms wanting to appear indifferent. “Like I cared. You’re a man now anyway. Targaryen men have never learned to keep it in their pants. The fire in your blood hungers and craves for satisfaction and desire.”

Jace only laughed at your attempt, patting your head affectionately as if he was petting a dog.

“Oh, sister. I see right through you. You care for me, so much that you’d worry about me with someone else. Worry not, many women may have offered their services and company, but I only crave one lady’s heart and hand. Yours.” He circles his hands around your waist, staring you in the eye with a sincere, loving expression.

You didn’t want to believe or listen to him - a wall placed around your heart for protection from getting hurt, from the possibility of getting so close and losing him.

“As dutiful and honourable as you are, I wouldn’t be surprised if your guard was down and you indulged yourself in the pretty ladies at your feet.”

He shakes his head, a hand on his heart as he swore. “I mean it with my life and blood. I may have heard and seen things about how the act and romance goes, but I have saved myself for one woman only. The one and only who deserves my heart and favour. That is you, sister.” Cupping your chin, he rubs his thumb against your bottom lip, feeling the pout forming on your mouth.

“You promise?” You ask quietly, a hushed whisper only he can hear amidst the loud echoes from the crowd bustling metres away inside the Keep.

“I promise, with everything that I am and ever will be. There was only one name I thought of as I slept at night, that I prayed for and wrote in my journal alongside my travels. The only one whose letters I awaited on baited breath, who caused me despair when I thought you wanted nothing to do with me when days came without a letter, but relieved when I found out only a storm en route to the voyage may have lost the letter or delayed it by days or weeks.” Jace insists solemnly, all jest gone from his words as he meant every single thing he said.

“I feared some knight or great lord could have swept you off your feet in my absence, that I could have lost you and could do nothing about it, that I would have been too late to make a difference if I tried to return.” His voice grew shaky and weary, pulling you closer to him as if he was afraid you would perish or melt in his arms.

You looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, watching the uncertainty and fear take over him, which was hidden by the assured, suave image he tried to project, but with you, he could not hide for too long. That has not changed.

“I could never. I tried looking for you in every suitor that came my way, but they are not you. They all missed something, they didn’t have your eyes or your smile, they were smart but not as smart as you, caring but not with the same edge you had.” You spoke, releasing a deep breath you did not know you were holding in, resting your palms on his broad chest, as if to soothe and calm him.

To feel him against your own flesh, that he has returned, that he was yours, and yours alone. His scent flooded your senses in the familiarity, how he had changed but stayed the same simultaneously.

“I want your hand. I want you.I want you to be my wife, in the tradition of our house. I have only imagined being king with you as my queen by my side. I want you to be mine, to have your heart and hand. I want to make you the happiest woman alive by my side, as my wife, as my lover, as the mother of my future children. Do you want that too?” He takes your hand into his and looks at you pleadingly, hopeful and anticipating.

You considered his proposal carefully, but there was only one answer for you. One you already knew deep within you.

“Yes. Even if mother and grandsire may have alluded and wanted for this marriage politically and for the realm, I want this for myself. For you. As people, as young lovers, as humans, not future heirs to the throne.” I nod enthusiastically.

Jace erupts in a joy like no other, his smile bright and joy undeniable as he pulls you into a tight embrace, pressing his nose against your neck.

“May I have a kiss to seal our union, my love?”

Tears brimming in your eyes from reprieve, you rest your palm on the back of his neck as you press your lips against his, standing on your tiptoes. It was warm, passionate and longing, as if needing release from so long apart.

He grinned into your kiss, soft lips pressing against yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip before he pulled away in victory. His broad palms explore your form as if studying every crevice, pleased by the woman you have grown to become and the one he loves more day by day.

“My queen.”

#jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon #team black #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon scenarios #house of the dragon headcanons #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #jacaerys velaryon #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic

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whitedarkmoonflower · 7 days

Text

Forbidden fruit

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: it just came to me last evening and I just had to write it down

Warnings: SMUT 18+

Summary: an approaching thunderstorm forces Sihtric to look for shelter in a near by monastery

Word Count: 1,2 K

It’s a weird place. Sihtric has never understood the strange ways of worshipping the nailed God. It would have been better to continue the journey just when the impending thunderstorm left him no choice but to seek shelter.

And now he’s here, in this strange place of downcast gazes, hushed whispers, and furtive smiles. He doesn’t like to be here. This is no place for one such as him, nor is it a place for the smouldering desire that consumes his very being.

He shouldn’t covet you. Even if he doesn’t believe in the nailed God, he recognises the impropriety of the thoughts that scorch his mind. Yet there is no escape, no refuge from your image, dancing shamelessly before his tightly shut eyes.

The abbess, her gaze stern with disapproval, crosses herself repeatedly upon appraising him. Yet, the clink of silver coins against his calloused palm seems to soften her trepidation, rousing just enough trust to provide him a modest cell that reeks of incense and herbs - a hint of thyme and lavender mingling with the musty scent of age-worn stones. It’s cool and damp, yet Sihtric's forehead is covered in beads of sweat as his hand, guided by wanton desire, travels southwards.

He is lost, drowned in the infinite depths of your gaze - twin pools brimming with warmth and benevolence. He's ensnared from the very first moment his eyes land upon you from the height of his white mare as the heavy wooden gates groan shut behind him.

Your face is pale and so beautifully fragile, your features so soft and ethereal, lips lush and beckoning. He is swept away by your every graceful movement, the way you carry yourself with pride and dignity, the sway of your hips that even the modest garb of a novice cannot conceal. There is something in your eyes that doesn’t let go of him. There is kindness, a tinge of curiosity and such deep sadness and longing. Longing for what, he wonders. He's convinced you don't belong here, such a radiant beacon of light in this solemn house of silent misery.

Your smile, your furrowed brow, your soft giggle escaping those full, crimson lips as you pass by, engrossed in hushed conversation with your sisters in faith – it drives him to the brink of madness, knowing how unreachable, how utterly unattainable you are for him.

A muffled moan rolls over Sitric’s parted lips, his hand keep tugging at his cock firmly as he pictures you on your knees before him, your lips wrapped around his thick, long and hard cock, pretty eyes, those deep, dark and large, innocent eyes, looking up at him, as he fucks your mouth, hand in your hair as he holds you in place, the lew sounds of you choking on his length echoing in the room.

Sihtric groans as he paints his stomach with his warm cum, sitting up in his small, uncomfortable bed and looking around for something to clean himself up. He craves for sleep, to escape these thoughts, to escape the taunting image of you pressed against the wall of this cell, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you, slamming into you relentlessly, ruthlessly, his hands tightly gripping your hips, fingers leaving bruises on your soft, unmarked skin, as you moan his name into the darkness of the cold night, your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard.

He keeps his eyes shut, tossing and turning in his bed, but sleep evades him. Instead he sees you again – head pressed down in the pillow, fingers digging into the blankets, covering the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks. Tears of pleasure and delight, as he fucks you from behind, wild groans rolling over his lips as he watches himself sliding in and out, your slick covering his cock. You are so hot, so tight and tense around him and so wet, the most delicious moans rolling over your lips each time he pushes back in, as you choke on your own breath, begging for more.

With a grunt, Sihtric swings his legs over the edge of the bed, his cock painfully hard again. He tugs on his breeches, leaving his shirt discarded as bare feet shuffle against the rough-hewn wooden floor. He wanders aimlessly through the drowsy monastery's empty corridors.

What is he looking for? What desperate hope drives him onward? Surely you slumber at this hour, yet even if awake, what would he do? What could he offer? Would he dare to taint your purity? Would he dare to devour you, only to leave you ruined and stained in his wake? Never. He would never do that.

He would make you feel good, he would kiss away the sadness from those beautiful eyes, holding your quivering frame against his chest and whispering sweet praises in your ear. He would tell you how much he loves you until your resistance crumbles and you surrender.

He would worship you like the goddess that you are, going down on his knees and kissing your bare feet, your ankles, your thighs all the way up. You would try to squirm away from his heated touch, but he wouldn’t let you, pinning down your hips and burying his tongue in your pulsing cunt, listening to you whimpering his name. He would burn you down in the flames of his desire and let you rise again like a phoenix from the ashes of his unending love, kissing away the tears streaming down your cheeks, letting you savour the sweet forbidden fruit for the first time in your life.

Sihtric doesn’t even know how he had gotten here as he finds himself in the vast and spacious chapel, the faint candlelight before the altar casting eerily dancing shadows across the vaulted space. And then, he sees you – unmistakable, undeniable. You kneel before the altar, hands clasped, eyes closed as whispered prayers spill from your lips.

As if entranced, he drifts soundlessly nearer, his bare feet whispering against the stone floor as he tries to melt into the shadows cloaking the walls. He doesn’t want to startle you, but he’s unable to resist. He just wants to hear your voice, to breathe in your scent even from afar. It’s going to be enough. Inch by inch, he closes the distance until finally, he can discern your words.

"Dear Father, forgive me," you murmur softly, and your eyes flutter open, locking onto Sihtric's form.

Surprise widens your gaze as you regard the handsome stranger, his breath catching audibly as his bare chest rises and falls unevenly. You are not afraid. How could you be afraid of those kind, beautiful eyes looking at you with such adoration and longing. Your gaze lingers shamelessly upon the taut planes of his abdomen before travelling upward to meet his intense stare.

"Will you join me in my prayer?" you ask softly, a demure smile gracing your lips as you rise gracefully. Though hesitant, he draws nearer until the charged space between you is but a hand's reach, his imposing frame towering over yours.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," he murmurs reverently, his voice a hoarse whisper laden with restraint.

You glance down at his bare feet nervously shuffling against the chilled floor. "You are not. I was hoping you would come," you murmur, closing the distance between you both.

"You were?" Astonishment colours his tone as you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips against his. A sharp exhale escapes Sihtric's broad chest, as he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

"Yes," you breathe, pulling him into another achingly sweet kiss, as you are suddenly swept up from the ground by two incredibly strong arms.

Comment or write to me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama

@verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07

@mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw @siimonesvensson @sigtryggrswifey @ladyinred2248

@thatawkwardlittlefangirl @canyonmoon-2 @legitalicat

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric #the last kingdom #sihtric kjartansson #tlk #sihtric smut #the last kingdom fic

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kitten4sannie · 2 years

Note

bestie help i can’t stop thinking about fucking older! ateez 😭😭😭 like iMAGINE 50-something year old san or yeosang (or san AND yeosang…👀👀) the way they’d be kinda cocky because of their success when they were younger (and their /experiences/ when they were younger) HHHH and they’d treat y/n like their little princess and when they fuck you theyd be like “does this pretty baby just need a cock inside her little pussy SO bad that she’s willing fuck an old guy like me?“ and girl u KNOW they’re both gonna be buff as FUCK by that age i- i need to stop myself

holy fuck i love you for sending this ask like i am REELING you have no idea 😭😭 i almost went insane typing this out like i am down astronomically for dilf ateez esp older ateez like okay sure 30 year old san/yeo would be fine af but 50 YEAR OLD SAN/YEO??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP 💳💥💳💥 so yeah i ended up writing an entire fic and i know this wasn’t technically a request but i just had to 😭i dedicate the following to you bestie so i hope i did it justice 🖤

𝙰 𝙲𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚠

Older! San x Fem! Reader x Older! Yeosang

Genre: smut

W.C: 3.6k

Summary: San and Yeosang visit your place of work, hoping to unwind after another long day of being incredibly rich and powerful.

Warnings: reader is in her early 20s, aged up! san/yeo, dom! san, soft dom! yeo, sansang, brief olfactophilia, cigar smoking, alcohol usage, mentions of age difference, pet names, use of the names sir/Daddy, dirty talk, degradation, super brief masterbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, oral (receiving), squirting, two instances of unprotected sex, spanking, hair pulling, creampie, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

Song Recs: Planet Girl by Jooyoung feat. pH-1, Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd, Into It by Chase Atlantic, The Walls by Chase Atlantic

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

You were working at your city’s local upscale cigar lounge when two of your favorite customers came in. Choi San and Kang Yeosang. Though they were both old enough to be your dad, they still were still infinitely hotter than most guys your age. And they knew it too.

As per usual, they were both dressed in fairly casual, but obviously luxury brand clothes. Gucci and YSL, from what you could recognize. You weren’t personally familiar with those brands, but you could tell just from being around the other (usually affluent) customers. Your eyes scanned them, watching them walk from the entrance over to the counter you were standing behind. They were wearing a fair amount of jewelry, the silver and gold accents of their necklaces and bracelets only serving to make the extent of their wealth just a little more obvious to anyone that was near them. Of course, you noticed the sleek buttoned loafers they had on as well, knowing those alone probably cost more than your rent.

The wrinkles underneath their eyes appeared a little more prominent than usual, the both of them tired and ready to relax at the end of a busy day. San gave you a small wave, resting his hand down on the mahogany counter, his aromatic cologne making its way to your nose. It gave off strong accents of sandalwood, with hints of cinnamon coming through as well.

“Welcome back, Mr. Choi. Mr. Kang. Your usual?”

San nodded his head, already pulling his leather wallet out of the back pocket of his black pleated trousers. You could tell that they were professionally tailored from the way they perfectly hugged his muscular thighs.

Two Cubans,” you started, already feeling like you were about to lose your cool, but forcing yourself to pull out a small cigar case and opening it up, pushing it in their direction for them to inspect.

Yeosang stepped closer to the counter to pick up a cigar and make sure it was up to his standards, allowing you to smell his cologne of choice as well. Though it was similar to San’s in terms of it being able to turn you on, it had a much more gentle scent, giving off notes of citrus and lavender. “Forgetting something, dollface?” he questioned, his deep, silky voice permeating in your ears.

“And a bottle of scotch. Single malt,” you added, feeling an obvious knot already beginning to form inside your stomach. You reached for the bottle from the shelf behind you and set it down on the counter, along with an identical set of shot glasses.

“Anything else?” You twirled a lock of hair around your manicured finger and looked Yeosang up and down, who was already doing the same to you. You bit your lip, giving San a once over as well, who returned it with an even hungrier reaction.

“It depends. Are you on the menu as well, sweetheart? I’d love to find out how you taste,” San questioned confidently in a low, but smooth tone, sliding his platinum credit card into your hand, his slender fingers drifting over yours.

Yeosang elbowed his friend in the side, giving him a slight grimace. “Have you ever heard of being subtle?”

“Why be subtle when this works ten times faster?” San retorted, rolling his eyes, which prompted Yeosang to open his mouth like he was about to argue with him.

Unable to ignore the aching in between your thighs, you found yourself giving into one of San’s various attempts at seducing you. Obviously, it was incredibly unprofessional of you, but you were at your wits’ end, unable to resist such a delicious offer.

“I’m…I’m actually off the clock in a little bit…if you two wanted to…you know…” you interrupted in a soft voice, paranoid that your manager would somehow catch wind of what was about to go down all the way from his office.

San and Yeosang exchanged glances, the both of them eventually sharing the same lewd smile.

“Put us down for one of the private rooms,” San informed, watching you press a few things on the screen of your work’s pos system and swipe his card through the reader, his dark eyes zoning in on how tightly your black long sleeve top fit on your body. “You’ll join us as soon as you get off, alright, baby?”

“Of course, Mr. Choi,” you answered sweetly, handing the older man his card back, along with the key to the room.

San shook his head slightly, putting the key and his wallet into his pocket, before wrapping his fingers around the neck of the bottle of scotch, passing the two shot glasses to Yeosang. Turning his attention back to you, he stated point-blank, “You’ll be addressing me as Daddy for the rest of the night. Now, let me hear you say it.”

“Yes…” you started, peering over your shoulder to see if anyone was there, which no one was, thankfully. “Yes, Daddy.” San gave you a pleased smile, elbowing Yeosang just like he had done earlier.

Yeosang added, “And you can address me as sir, pretty girl.”

Your eyes flickered over to Yeosang’s brown ones, unconsciously wetting the corner of your lips with your tongue. “See you in a little bit, sir.”

Yeosang slid a hand into one of his blazer pockets, looking back at you with a small smirk, picturing what you’d look like with his thumb in your mouth. “Don’t take too long, darling.”

Knowing there weren’t cameras set up in the vip room for privacy reasons, you felt like you should be able to relax, but that simply wasn’t happening for you. It was most likely due to the fact that two insanely attractive men were sitting on the velvet couch opposite from you, sharing the strong liquor they had purchased and silently puffing on their cigars, all while undressing you with their eyes.

“You’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time, haven’t you? Even though we’re thirty years your senior?” San leaned his back against the plush cushion behind him, resting a palm down onto one of his thighs.

“Mmm-hmm,” you nodded, despite gripping your knees so tightly your knuckles turned white, in search of some comfort, wondering if you were even capable of surviving this unbelievably arousing situation.

“Nervous, baby?” San let out a soft chuckle, taking delight in your predicament, unlike his seasoned counterpart, who was already filling up a glass with the scotch and passing it in your direction.

“Ignore him. Have a drink and relax, okay? We can take things slow, fast, and everything in between. It’s up to you. We don’t even have to do this if you don’t want to,” Yeosang informed, noticing the way you shook your head and took a few gulps of the scotch.

“I want to do this. You two just make me really nervous cuz you’re so…so…” You couldn’t seem to finish your sentence, your mind too occupied with focusing on Yeosang, who had stood up and walked over to you, his elegant frame towering over your own.

“I understand. Just be sure to let us know if you want us to stop.” Yeosang held the bottom of your chin and tilted it up, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Nod your head for me, doll.” Once you did so, he hummed to himself. “Good girl,” he added, his words coming out like they were drenched in honey, slowly pushing his thumb past your parted lips.

You could’ve melted right then and then, the strong liquor inside your mostly empty stomach sending a pleasant warmth over the expanse of your body. “Mm,” you moaned softly, sucking on his thumb and looking up at him with half-closed eyes.

“That’s it…”

San tapped his cigar near the glass ashtray that was sitting on the small table between the couches, clearing his throat to get his friend’s attention. “Take off her clothes for me, Sangie,” he chimed lovingly, the vapor leaving his mouth, pleased with the sight of Yeosang smiling at him and pulling his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, so that he could pull your top off of you.

“Harder. Finger yourself harder, baby. Yeah, just like that,” San groaned, lazily stroking his cock with one hand and still bringing his cigar up to his lips, taking a puff of it now and then. “Are you going to cum for us?”

You were sitting back against the seat with your legs spread, pushing your digits into your cunt as deep as you possibly could, your hand starting to cramp from how long you had been going at it. “I’m trying to, Daddy,” you responded, your tone rising in pitch near the end, tossing your head back from being on the cusp of your orgasm, but not quite getting there.

“God, you’re so hot. Does your real dad know how much of a slut you are?”

“Uh-uh.” Feeling more pain in your hand than you anticipated, you relaxed it and closed your eyes, sighing out of frustration. You didn’t even notice when Yeosang had gotten onto his knees in front of you, until you felt the flat of his tongue moving up and down your soaking cunt. “Oh, fuck-”

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, massaging his thumbs into your upper thighs and giving you a reassuring smile, prior to eating you out like you were his first meal of the day.

“Oh my goddd…” You slumped down slightly against the couch, your fingers pushing past his dyed dark blonde locks, making eye contact with San, who was jerking himself off a little faster than before.

“How does she taste?” San asked, squeezing his fingers around his cockhead every time he got up to it, a few droplets of pre-cum dripping down the side.

Yeosang reluctantly pulled his mouth away from you to groan, “She tastes fucking delicious, San,” before replacing his tongue with his fingers, your eager hole swallowing them up to the hilt.

“I’m jealous.”

“You should be,” Yeosang chuckled, glancing back at San, as he shoved his digits into you so fast, you thought you might unravel then and there. “Don’t look away either. You’re going to watch me when I make her squirt all over my face.”

San groaned deeply at his friend’s words, sinking even further into the couch, some of his black hair falling into his eyes. He immediately blew it out of the way so that he could admire the way Yeosang’s tongue was quickly flicking across your clit. “Don’t worry, Sangie. I’m watching…”

“I’m…cumming…!” It didn’t take long for you to reach your limit, incredibly overwhelmed by all of the pleasure that Yeosang was giving you, as well as from the way that San was drinking in the sight of you and eagerly bringing himself to his own pinnacle of gratification.

A gravelly sounding moan erupted from Yeosang’s vocal cords, holding his mouth open near your pulsing hole and catching most of the clear liquid that squirted out of you on his tongue and in his throat, gulping it down.

“F-uuuuck, that’s so hot…” San choked out, in between grunts, his hips bucking up, just as he shot his load out onto his bare, chiseled abdomen, incredibly relieved that he had unbuttoned his overtly lavish shirt.

You ran your fingers delicately through Yeosang’s hair, breathing heavily and shuddering when he cleaned up the rest of his arousal with his tongue. “Nnngh, please, sir, let me take care of you too.”

“No need, doll,” he replied shakily, his porcelain cheeks incredibly flushed and his eyes glossy. Yeosang unbuttoned his velvet pants and pulled them down, along with his tight briefs, revealing his softened, cum-covered length.

“Oh, wow…” you blushed, bringing a hand up to your mouth and gawking at him, biting back a gasp when Yeosang’s dick started to come alive again just from the way you were looking at it.

San sighed softly, slicking his slightly damp hair back. “That’s my Sangie, always so eager to please.”

Smiling, Yeosang stood up and walked back to the other couch, sitting down next to San and gathering up some of his own cum, gently moving it up and down his friend’s length to make him hard again.

San groaned in delight, adding, “But enough about him.” He snapped his fingers, gaining your attention, beckoning you in his direction with his index finger. “Come over here and sit on my cock, baby.”

You almost ran into the coffee table, just narrowly avoiding it and enthusiastically lowering yourself down on San’s lap. “Are you going to fuck me nice and hard, Daddy?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart? It’d be a sin not to.” San grabbed both sides of your ass and kneaded into it with his strong hands, guiding your entrance to his cockhead and pushing himself inside, a few inches at a time, until all nine were inside of you.

“Oh, fuuuuck…” you exhaled, reveling in the feeling of being completely filled up by the man you had been secretly pining for.

Seeing Yeosang starting to jerk himself off through his peripheral, San began slamming himself into you, right out of the gate, the couch creaking underneath the both of you. “You like watching me fuck her like this, Yeo? Huh? You love it, don’t you?”

Yeosang moaned, moving his hand a bit faster, relishing the dynamic he shared with his friend, as well as the sight of you taking his cock in such an obedient way. “Pull her hair, San…for me…and-fuck-kiss her neck!”

San followed Yeosang’s directions, bunching up your hair and holding it like you had it up in a ponytail, then pulling it down so you had to look up and expose your neck in the process, earning a strangled sound of pleasure from your lips. “Yeah? You fucking like that?”

“Uh-huhhh…” You closed your eyes for a moment, shivering when San lazily kissed, lapped at, and sucked on your neck, feeling his warm breath hit your skin whenever he let out a soft pant from how hard he was fucking you.

Yeosang leaned his body weight against San’s, their shoulders and toned arms pressing into one another. “Keep talking to her like that…” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, completely wrapped up in the heavy, intoxicating tension that seemed to swallow the room whole.

“Do you like the way I’m pounding this pretty pussy of yours, baby?” San complied, squeezing his fingers into the sides of your bouncing ass and smacking it a few times, making sure to leave a few handprints.

“Yes, Daddy…!”

“Who fucks you better? Me or those twenty-something shitheads you meet on Tinder?”

“You!”

Yeosang leaned his head down against San’s shoulder, hunching over slightly so that his hand could slide rapidly up and down his throbbing length. “Oh, god…”

“Do you think your coworkers can hear you being a little whore for me? What about that manager of yours? Do you think he knows you’re getting your pussy stuffed by a man way older than him? And being watched by someone who’s just as old?”

“I don’t care if he does! Fuck me harder!” you cried, almost delirious at this point.

Yeosang shook his head, letting go of his cock to comment, “Jesus Christ, San, you know I don’t like it when you talk about how old we are. It’s making me go soft.”

San scoffed, stopping his movements for a moment so that he could casually give Yeosang a side eye, allowing you to bounce on his cock instead, giving you the power to bring yourself to a much-needed state of ecstasy. San groaned out, pressing his head back into the couch, grumbling, “I can’t help that it turns me on, Yeo. Are you really kink-shaming me right now? In the middle of this?”

“I’m not-”

“Ohhh, I see. You’re just upset she’s not fucking herself dumb on your cock, huh?” San reached over and patted Yeosang’s thigh, giving him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, Yeo. Once I empty my load into her, you can have a turn.”

Yeosang’s hand returned to his cock, giving it enough attention so that he could return to the same state of pleasure he was at before, focusing on the way your tits bounced in front of San’s sweaty face.

“You’ll let me cum inside you, yeah?” San grabbed onto one of your breasts and moved it around, idly tweaking one of your nipples with two fingers, bringing a sharp gasp out of you.

“I…I don’t know…” Though you were on birth control, you dreaded the thought of having to try to keep cum from spilling out of you on the walk out of the building, and including the drive home. What if it stained the seats? And you just got them redone too. That would be-

“Please, baby,” he groaned, the muscles in his thighs tightening, making them go rigid, some of his pre-cum coating your soaked inner walls. “What if I buy you something? You want a pretty little dress? Or what about a new laptop, huh? I’ll even double whatever you get on your paycheck — just let me cum inside you, baby. Please, let me fill this slutty cunt of yours!”

“Okay, okay! Just hurry up and-” You couldn’t form another word, too preoccupied with the way that San was holding you down, his hot cum filling you up to the brim, to the point that some had to drip down the base of his dick.

“Ohhhh, god…that’s it…”

Once San pulled out, Yeosang had already recovered from his own orgasm and picked you up by the waist, effortlessly pulling you into his own lap and immediately replacing San’s cock with his own, growing hard inside you, upon feeling your walls tightening up around his thick length. “It’s my turn, darling.”

“Oh my god,” was all you could get out, unable to resist the way Yeosang began expertly bucking his hips up into yours, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. “Sir…!”

“What a good girl you are, taking another cock right after taking mine,” San cooed near your ear, biting the shell of it and slamming his palm into your ass, causing you to cry out.

“Does that feel good, angel?” Yeosang spoke up, peppering your sensitive neck with kisses, his calloused hands running up and down along the curves of your body, eventually settling on your tits and cupping them.

“Y-esss, so fucking good…!” You were about to explain how amazing it felt in further detail, but you were silenced when the man’s lips suddenly pressed onto yours, his tongue slipping into your slightly open mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, appreciating how desperate he was to kiss you, to explore your mouth so fervently, as though he had a time limit.

San moved even closer to the both of you, grabbing the opposite side of your chin and pulling you towards him, breaking the kiss and allowing small ropes of spit to fall from your lips. “Let me have a taste,” he mumbled, pressing his mouth onto yours and kissing you in a more sloppy, but still passionate manner.

Being stimulated in so many ways at once sent you over the edge, feeling your pussy clenching around Yeosang’s length, just as a large amount of arousal splashed out onto it. “Mmmnnn!”

“How many times did you cum for us, baby? I bet you can’t even count,” San mused, gently pushing your face away and reaching down in between your heated bodies, rubbing your swollen clit. “Cum again, babydoll, so you can brag about it to your little friends on your social media later.”

“I…ahhhh….” Your eyes were rolling back into your skull, your head and body pulsing with mind-numbing delight, barely able to keep any sort of grasp on reality.

Yeosang pumped himself into you at such a fast speed, San could barely keep his fingers on your clit, but still managed to play with it long enough that their combined efforts sent you into a fit of pleasure-induced hysteria.

All you could get out was a string of yeses, while quite a few tears fell down your warm cheeks, hardly noticing when Yeosang wiped them away and pulled out of you, just in time for his cum to land on your chest and abdomen in slow spurts.

Almost passing out, you pulled off of Yeosang and settled in between the two older men, huffing and puffing until the flood of endorphins that had previously rushed to your brain finally mellowed out.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, San reached for his half-filled glass of scotch and took a small sip of it, then leaned back against the couch, spreading his arms across the top of it. “So, laptop it is, then?” he asked, nudging your thigh with his own.

You sucked your teeth, shaking your head slightly. “Mm, I’ll take the money. And if we do this again, would you consider tripling the amount if I let you cum inside me as much as you want?”

San sighed softly, facing you and giving you what could only be described as heart eyes, prior to looking past you at Yeosang, who was too busy sending a proud smile your way. “I think I’m in love,” San admitted, drumming his fingers lightly against the couch.

Yeosang reached over to you so that he could caress your cheek, earning a small sound of approval from you. “Get in line, pal.”

➽───────────────❥

(i figured i would tag everyone for this since it was a full-fledged fic lol)

Tags: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cloudysannie @aryraaaa @za-con @cosmiczen @choerryge @aikyubi @arusio @gueritaybonita @i-l0v3hands @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @jexidamulti @as-she-pleases @purplechannie @lilactiny @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @cherryxsang @namsloverr @chanst1ddies @woo-stars @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @fairyoftaehyun @bls-luv-me @lavanyasingh04 @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @mork-ly @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @merciluv-blog @atzcrime @lovekeeho @sup-dallyboy @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @Eastleighblogs @singularity777

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tenelkadjowrites · 1 year

Text

♥ Lonely in Gorgeous ♥ - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

☕Summary: Seonghwa is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and he happens to frequent the coffee shop you run. Your crush on him feels hopeless and overpowering until he finds out that you practice photography in your spare time.

☕Word count: 8,700

☕Genre and warnings: one shot. fem pronouns for reader. unprotected sex. creampie. oral sex, both reader receiving and reader giving.

☕Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @spiderrenjunfics - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @rdiamond2727 - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @xirenex - @cherrypandora - sorry if i forgot anyone.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

He’s here again.

You know that it is rude to keep a customer waiting but at the sight of him sitting at the counter, fingers drumming against the small white menu, looking at the framed photos near the coffee machine, you are momentarily frozen.

He hasn’t been around your café in a little over six months and you just assumed he found somewhere else to grab a coffee. It happens; in the city, there is always a franchise waiting to open on every corner, luring away even your regulars to the promise of a loyalty rewards system and coffee served in a drive thru. How could you compete with something like that?

But now, the most otherworldly beautiful man that you’ve ever seen with your own eyes is back in your café, quietly waiting for you to exit the kitchen to take his order. You don’t even know his name, you just know that the average person wandering this planet would never achieve the sort of beauty this man casually possesses: his bright almost silver blonde hair with just a hint of the black roots coming in, his baggy white t-shirt that has the faded logo of some beach town you’ve never heard of, a bracelet that looks as if it has multiple small diamonds on it rests gracefully on his small wrist, cheekbones carved from marble, lips perfectly plump and faintly pink – lip gloss or just naturally that pink? Hard to tell. Everything about him makes your knees weak, your heart beat too quickly and your tongue get tied. It is, frankly, embarrassing which meant it had been a relief when he suddenly stopped showing up.

Knowing that you couldn’t dawdle any longer, you exit the tiny kitchen. His eyes land on you immediately, half lidded like a sleepy cat, his posture softening slightly at the sight of you.

“S-sorry to keep you waiting,” You say before he can speak, “Have you decided on what you would like?”

You can’t meet his gaze directly; it would be akin to staring at the sun. He’s just too beautiful.

“Can I have an oat milk lavender latte please?” His voice is deep yet soft at the same time, the sort of tone that you feel in your bones.

You nod, hurriedly turning around to the coffee machine. He is the only customer in the shop. It is a quiet late Wednesday afternoon, and the sun is slanting in through the blinds, sending lazy sunlight splashing across the wood floors. The coffee shop playlist is on quietly in the background, and all the small, cozy seating areas are empty. All the places he could have sat at and he picks the countertop, you think with a small inward sigh.

“I wasn’t sure if this place would still be open. I feel like every time I come into town, everything is slightly different like a puzzle where the pieces keep shifting when I look away.”

Torn between being as professional as possible and wanting to melt into the floor, you look over your shoulder and reply, “Nope, still open. At least for now. I have a group of regulars that help out a lot.” I made sense, you think with relief, nice…now to just keep talking to a minimum so I don’t fuck it up.

He leans forward a little, his elbows on the countertop, the diamond bracelet resting gently against the surface. It catches the sunlight and glimmers for one brief second.

“Could you make a little heart on that top?” He asks sheepishly.

“Oh, sure, no problem.”

He smiles a little, relaxing back into his earlier position. Your heart does a flip, making you worry that the coffee cup is going to slip from your fingers or something equally embarrassing. Turning your attention to the drink, you finish making it, with the heart shaped art included and bring it over to him, unable to look directly at his face.

The only thing in your vision is the sight of one of his fingers touching the rim, trailing across it before going to the handle of the oversized mug and then stopping.

“This is really pretty. Is it okay if I take a photo for my Instagram?”

“Oh, y-yes, that sounds great. Thank you so much.”

“I have a bad habit of taking photos of every coffee I drink,” He explains as if anyone taking pics of what they eat or drink is odd anymore, “By the way, my name is Seonghwa.”

Exhaling slowly, you steel your nerves to raise your head upwards and look at him. It is unfair of the universe to plop someone like this in your café, even crueler to make him so friendly and approachable. Aren’t pretty people supposed to be assholes? Or did movies just lie to you?

You manage to say your name and not the name of your uncle or something and follow up with, “I remember you from ah…like six months ago or so. You were here pretty frequently.” Immediately, you regret the observation. Did that make you look odd? As if you were just peering at him drinking a coffee every time he was here? You try to correct yourself, “Uh, with my memory, I have a hard time forgetting people after they pop in a few times.”

But if Seonghwa finds you strange, it doesn’t show on his face. “I live pretty close to here and I like the vibe. It’s quiet, open later than other places, and your coffee always tastes good. But I was overseas for the last six months, I just got back a couple nights ago.”

“Wow, for that long?” Genuine curiosity takes over and for a brief second, you forget to be tongue tied by how handsome he is.

“Yeah, my agency had me all over for a bit doing work.”

“Agency?”

He laughs a little and playfully taps his forehead. “Sorry, I forgot, yeah, I’m a model.”

The tongue tied feeling immediately returns. Of course he’s a model. Why wouldn’t he be a model? No one could look like this and not be one.

You must look stricken because he holds his hands up, shaking his head quickly. “I know, I know what you’re thinking.”

No, you definitely do not.

Scrambling for something to say, you go, “Well, I don’t know much about modeling. I think my entire frame of reference is Zoolander.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to groan loudly. Did you really just compare his career to that movie?

But his grin only deepens as he replies, “You know, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

Thanking the universe for the lucky break, you push your luck by continuing to speak, “Is it like…ah, fashion modeling? Like in magazines? Or more of an Instagram thing?”

“It’s fashion. I bounce between walking shows and doing shoots for ad campaigns and stuff. Occasionally some spreads in magazines too.”

“Damn, really? That’s impressive.”

Seonghwa, having finished taking a photo of the coffee, finally takes a sip. He looks pleased with the taste, gently placing the mug back down on the saucer. Yeah, you could definitely see this guy in magazines. You wonder if you’ve skipped past him in magazines before but then decide there is no way – you would remember someone like him. He makes your insides feel like jelly and your head feel stuffed full of cotton.

“I’m kinda excited because I have a magazine coming out next week and I’m apparently in a few photos. It’s a high fashion magazine that previously always seemed to never pick my photos so I’m excited.”

“What’s the name of it?”

“Oh, are you going to pick up a copy just to see me? But I’m here for free in the flesh,” His tone is light, teasing but a shiver rolls down your back that makes you stand straighter. If it had been anyone else but the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life, you would wonder if he was flirting. But since it is the hottest guy to walk this earth…

“H-hey, it isn’t every day that I sort of know someone who is going to be in a magazine,” You say without fainting.

Seonghwa gestures to the framed photos on the wall. “I just assumed whoever took these pics had been in magazine before.”

Surprised, you glance over your shoulder to your photos decorating the wall near the coffee machine. Taking photos has been a hobby of yours for a few years now and your friends had convinced you to put some up in the shop. You are extremely critical on your photography but everyone else always said such kind things about them. But never anyone this attractive, you think.

“Oh, I took them,” You admit sheepishly, looking back at him, “It’s just a hobby.”

He tilts his face to the side a little, his eyes darting from the framed photos to you. “Well, for just a hobby they look really good.”

“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

The conversation is interrupted by a small cluster of people entering the store. One look at them makes it clear they are tourists who probably found the coffee shop on the map app.

Seonghwa gives you a small smile. “Conversation over for now, I guess.”

The group tosses their shopping bags and other items near one of the sections that has a couch and a couple of chairs, one person breaking off to come gawk at the menu that is on the wall. You excuse yourself from him, going over to take care of the new customers.

By the time everything is ordered and made, Seonghwa has left, his chair cold from the absence of him. There is no lip gloss smear on the rim of the mug. Damn, his lips really are just naturally that pink. What a jerk.

You feel like a thief in the night. Shoulders hunched, small shopping bag striking against your leg as your fingers furiously flick through the pages of the magazine. The tinny noise of the piped in music irritates your ears and the store is a little too crowded for your liking – for your purpose.

With defeat, the magazine comes to an end, and you place it back on the shelf. You are about a block from your place, having stopped in the corner store to grab a few items after closing up the coffee shop for the night. Having already purchased what you needed, halfway out the door, the sight of the magazines brought you to a halt.

Seeing as it had been a week since seeing Seonghwa, that would mean that the magazine he mentioned would be out. The problem was that you hadn’t actually gotten the name of it.

Which is why, twenty minutes later, you have flipped through the majority of the fashion magazines on the shelf and had yet to see his gorgeous face among the glossy pages.

You’ve lost it. What are you, sixteen with a crush? Who acts like this? You scold yourself, picking up another magazine. You should be home by now, making tea and unwinding. Instead, you’re hunched over this magazine as if it is a guilty secret that you’re trying to find him. Surely sane people do not act this way –

Your diatribe against yourself is cut short by the sight of Seonghwa’s face looking up at you from one of the pages. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him in black turtleneck and perfectly tailored slacks, the belt resting lightly around his slender hips as he leans against the wall. His face is turned slightly to the side, the light catching his cheekbone. You turn the page, finding another photo of him with a model, their bodies slightly entwined, a beautiful pool sparkling behind them. His gaze is softer in this one, directly at the camera, one long necklace dipping underneath his shirt, his collarbone exposed. The final photo is of him stepping out of the pool, a white t-shirt soaking wet and flat against his skin, exposing his toned stomach and the dip of his waist. He is pushing his hair back, the look in his eyes hard and mischievous as if he is saying I know your secret.

Your cheeks unusually warm, you quickly close the magazine, wondering how a few photos could make your heart rate so elevated. Too shy and embarrassed to purchase it, you hurriedly place it back on the shelf and scurry out of the store, convinced everyone knows what you’re thinking about.

He comes again, a few days after the magazine incident, sitting in the same seat at the counter. You are making a coffee for another customer when Seonghwa enters, leaving you to try to pretend not to notice him right away. The photos are still burned in your mind, especially the one of him exiting the pool, and some part of you wishes he would just go away. Go to Starbucks or something instead.

Today, Seonghwa is wearing a grey t-shirt with a logo of a diner you’ve also never heard of. It looks well worn, a little too large for his frame. He has a different bracelet on, a small gold band that rests on his wrist. His hair is damp as if he just showered, curling against his neck in soft blonde swirls. He is looking at the menu, studying it quietly while waiting for you to finish up with the customer.

Steeling yourself, you walk over and greet him, saying his name a little too softly as if it is a fragile thing instead of belonging to just another customer. He looks up, smiling at the sight of you which threatens to immediately shift you into System Overload.

“What can I get you?”

“I’d just like an espresso today,” He shifts slightly in his seat as if going to add something on but decides against it.

You go to make the espresso, fighting the urge not to glance over at him. Some part of you wants to say that you saw his photos in the magazine but are too paranoid in case he asks questions. You would rather die than admit that you went scouring through a ton just to see his modeling photos.

Finishing up, you bring the espresso over, gently placing it in front of him. Seonghwa shifts again and then leans forward just a little, just enough so that you catch the scent of clean laundry and cinnamon clinging to his shirt.

“My magazine came out,” He finally says, “I got around three photos in it. I was sorta hoping for five but better than nothing.”

I don’t think I could have handled five photos.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it while asking, “Do you mind if I show you them? Is that – I mean, would that be weird? I know I’m just a customer but I am pretty pleased with them. And since you take photos, I thought…” Seonghwa trails off, sounding unsure.

“Well, I just take landscape photos. I don’t know if any of that would translate to modeling,” You stall only because you aren’t sure how to keep a straight face if he shows you these pics.

“I think you’d be fine,” He says confidently, sliding the phone over, “Do you look at fashion photos or magazines at all?”

On the screen is the first photo of him in the turtleneck. Swallowing hard, you go, “Not typically.”

“My agent says I don’t have enough of a social media presence. They’re really pushing the whole ‘influencer’ thing on me. I’m pushing back a bit because my interests don’t go there but I think they kinda had a point about posting more modeling photos on my Instagram, for my Instagram only.”

Seonghwa flicks to the next photo, the one with the necklace by the pool. You hope that your facial features are comprised into an expression of mild interest and nothing else. But Seonghwa seems to be lost in thought, his gaze a bit hazy.

“You take photos…” He trails off.

You should know what he is going to suggest. But your brain is fried from dealing with real Seonghwa and also model Seonghwa in the photos so the words leave his mouth easily without any warning signals going off in your head.

“Maybe you could take some photos for me? I’d pay you, of course, and I could post them on my Instagram. Your café is really cute. We could take them here, one night after you close.”

Talk about taking a battering ram to your chest. You protest immediately with, “Like I said, I only have taken landscapes. I have no experience in the sort of photos you’re looking for.”

“They’re just for Instagram. They don’t have to be anything special.”

“Yeah but surely you know someone else that is actually skilled in modeling photos who could do this for you?” It isn’t that you don’t want to do it, of course the part of you that thinks Seonghwa is gorgeous would love nothing more, but to be that close to him, alone in the café, makes your palms sweat from nerves.

Seonghwa looks awkward as he admits, “I tend to keep to myself. I don’t have as many connections as others working in the industry do. It’s my own fault. I come off unapproachable. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

It’s your beauty. It’s just too much. Makes people insecure. Without thinking, you reply, “It’s because you’re too gorgeous. I don’t think it has anything to do with your demeanor.”

Seonghwa looks surprised, in the middle of taking a sip of his espresso, his eyebrows arching slightly. You immediately regret the remark, knowing that it exposes the fact you’ve noticed his appearance. But how could you not? How could anyone not? After all, you’re just human.

“So, what are you saying? That because I’m gorgeous, that’s why I’m lonely?”

“Basically,” Your cheeks are starting to feel warm again especially from his casual admission of being lonely, best to get out of the conversation, “I should make sure the other customer doesn’t need anything. Enjoy your espresso though.”

Going to turn around, Seonghwa raises the arm with the bracelet as if going to reach out for you but thinking the better of it. “Wait,” He says, his lips that same perfect pink colour from the last visit, “You didn’t answer.”

Staring in that beautiful face of his, the request seems like a bad idea for a few reasons: no experience in taking the sort of photos Seonghwa wants, the fact you are enamored with him, the idea of being around him alone for an extended period of time…

But the photos are just for his Instagram. And as overwhelming as it is to be near him, I also want it more than anything.

You hesitate before going, “Are you sure? Like I said, I have no experience in…”

“I’m sure,” He says firmly, “I think our energies match up pretty well. Don’t you?”

The remark takes you by surprise. You haven’t given much thought to your energies mostly because standing next to him made you feel as if your heart was going to explode. What’s the worst that could happen? You get to practice something new with your photography, spend time around someone stunning, and then life goes on.

With affected casualness, you give a small shrug of your shoulders and go, “Alright.”

Seonghwa relaxes back in the seat, shooting a smile at you that shows off his perfectly white and straight teeth. Your insides start to vibrate at a frequency that could shatter glass. The two of you exchange numbers, giving you a way out from seeing the photo of Seonghwa by the pool which could easily crack the nonplussed exterior you are trying to exude.

But there is one final thing that is poking at your brain. You know it could come off odd but unable to help yourself, you ask, “Do you own any lip gloss?”

“Lip gloss?” Seonghwa blinks in surprise, “I think I do. Why?”

“You should bring it.”

He waits for a second to see if you would explain why but when you don’t, he simply goes, “Alright.”

He then finishes his espresso, giving you a small wave as you head towards the other customer. On the way out, Seonghwa glances briefly over his shoulder at you and then the street swallows him up, leaving you with the memory of the conversation and the anticipation of the photoshoot.

It takes a couple of days to set up a time that works for both of you. Admittedly, you would clear any part of your schedule in order to take photos of Seonghwa but in an attempt not to look down bad, you deny the first time given. When he suggests Sunday night, you agree but your nerves only grow as the time approaches closer and closer.

Since your café stays open later than most, Seonghwa isn’t due to arrive until around nine that night. After closing up shop at eight, you try to tidy up a bit but instead find yourself wandering around aimlessly, butterflies in your stomach. You aren’t convinced that any photos worthwhile will be taken nor are you sure what to talk about with him during the few hours spent together.

The café windows have large blinds to block out the setting sun and you make sure they are pulled down for privacy. You try to rearrange some of the pillows on one of the couches but give up. Plopping down on it instead, you lean your head back and stare at the ceiling.

I don’t know anything about this guy except he’s hot. I have got to get a grip. I’m sure a few hours with him will prove there’s something unlikeable that will turn me off, gorgeous or not. You’ve never had a crush on a customer before and to have one on someone who looks like Seonghwa feels comical. Talk about out of your league.

A few minutes past nine, there is a soft knock on the door, jolting you out of your thoughts. Nervously, you exhale, go over the front door of the café and open it.

Seonghwa stands in the moonlight which spills across his hair like a silken pool. He wears a white button up that has the sleeves rolled up a bit, a charm bracelet dangling from one wrist, and black slacks. He looks as elegant ever and your chest tightens at the sight of him.

“Hey,” You say, moving to the side so he can enter.

As you lock the café door, he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand to show you something. “Brought the lip gloss.”

The elegant bottle has the Dior logo on it, a sheer lip gloss with tiny specks of glitter in it. It rests in the palm of his hand.

“Great,” You reply, “Uhm, I was thinking maybe I could get the light to catch it. It might look good in the photo. But like I said before, I don’t really take photos of people. Just places.”

“It’s fine.” He doesn’t seem concerned, moving past you towards the largest seating area. “Like I said before, it’s just for my Instagram. Nothing special.”

“But still, it’s important to your image and that ties directly to your work.”

“You’re thinking more about this than I am,” Seonghwa admits, turning to face you, “It’s just Instagram. Don’t overthink it.”

You aren’t entirely convinced but his casual demeanor about it does make you feel a tiny bit better. You aren’t exactly positive that you are capable of capturing his beauty in a photo, given your lack of skills in this area. If the pictures suck, he doesn’t have to use them. You’re just overthinking this because he’s hot.

“Is there a certain spot we should start?” He asks.

“We can start here, if you’d like.” It is hitting you that you’re going to have to give some direction – another reason you just work with landscapes.

Seonghwa extends his hand out to you, the Dior lip gloss glinting smartly in the dim lighting of the café. “You want to put this on now?”

Surprised, you go, “Me?”

“I forgot my mirror.”

The logical side of you wants to point out the fact the bathroom has a mirror. But the other side of you, the larger side, is drawn to Seonghwa like a moon around a planet. Your feet betray you first and it is only a few steps until your body is right in front of him.

Gingerly taking the lip gloss from his hand, your fingertips touching the palm of his hand – a touch so minor that it wouldn’t be normally wouldn’t be noticeable but this one makes you dizzy – twisting the lid off and pulling out the tiny wand.

Reaching out, you press the wand against his lips, smearing the gloss across the bottom lip first and then the top. Seonghwa is looking at you steadily, as if this doesn’t feel oddly intimate or weirdly sorta familiar. The way he looks at you makes your thighs clench and your chest burn. It feels strange to be this close to someone so beautiful; it is as if a marble statue has come to life in front of you. When you finish, your heart is racing, and you hastily shove the lip gloss back in his hand.

“Ready?” You ask, unable to look at Seonghwa, wondering how you’ll get through the night intact.

It becomes apparent very quickly that your tension is seeping into the photos. Unsure what direction to give Seonghwa, it ends up being more of you following his lead. He begins to come up with ideas but there still feels like some sort of barrier between the camera lens and himself. You blame yourself; your lack of knowledge in this type of photography combined with your own feelings about Seonghwa are leading to the result you expected: lackluster photos.

Seonghwa, who has been incredibly polite the entire night, at one point finally jokes, “Maybe if I took my clothes off the photos would look better.”

And without thinking, you reply, “No, I think that wet t-shirt photo in the magazine was enough.”

You don’t realize the slip up at first because your focus on the next shot is overpowering everything else. It is Seonghwa who looks startled and then something flickers across his face, so fast that it would have been missed if you hadn’t snapped a photo at that second. It is then that you realize your mistake.

Fuck, he never actually showed me that pic the other day. You had made sure to scurry off before the photo appeared on his phone screen. Lowering the camera, you struggle to find some sort of lie, something to explain how you knew about the photo.

But he swiftly talks over your stammering words. “You saw the photoshoot before I showed it, didn’t you?”

With no clever lie coming to your head, all you say is, “Yeah.” When Seonghwa continues to stare silently, you clear your throat a little and explain, “I found the magazine with the photoshoot. I saw them then.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He takes a step forward. “You looked at the photos as if they were brand new.”

“I just felt embarrassed,” You mumble, unable to form any further words.

“Why?” Seonghwa presses, taking another step forward.

The last thing you intend to do is start gushing about how he makes you feel, how you find him so attractive your head spins, and that none of the photos are going to turn out well because your desire and fear of being discovered is a barrier in the lens.

“Does it matter?” You snap, the tone a lot harder than intended, “Can we please get back to the photos?”

“No,” Seonghwa is close to you now, his eyes slightly downcast, his long lashes bright against his skin, “Answer my question.”

“Why does it matter?” You reply hotly, “It has nothing to do with anything.”

“The pictures will improve if you’re honest. You’re holding back and it’s interfering with everything. I can feel it but I didn’t understand why so I didn’t want to say anything.”

Exasperated, nervous and frustrated, you spit out, “It’s because I find you attractive, okay? But that isn’t really that weird. I mean, you’re aware of what you look like. You’re a model. So, you know that you’re hot. I wanted to see your photos because you talked about them and I was curious. I found the magazine in the store and looked at them. But I just didn’t want you to think I was sneaking around being creepy looking at photos of you so I just didn’t say anything. Happy?” You wish that it could be possible to melt into the floor and fade from the world. Your cheeks burn and you cannot look Seonghwa in the face.

Since you are looking downward, you find yourself staring at his shoes. They look expensive, not a scuff on them. You are embarrassed at your outburst but don’t know what else to say. The silence drags on for too long. You can hear Seonghwa quietly breathing, can smell the clean laundry clinging to his crisp white shirt.

“Am I that distracting?” He finally asks, “You gave no indication. You just stated matter of fact that my appearance could leave me isolated from others which was a keen observation. I didn’t think you noticed me in that manner.”

“What?” You look upwards now, confused, “You’re joking. I think every conversation was cobbled from one braincell working around you.”

“I had no idea. That’s why…” For the first time since meeting him, he looks unsure. “That’s why I liked coming here. Even before my trip overseas. Every small conversation with you felt natural and normal. There was no mention of my appearance other than on my terms and you never seemed to not be listening to me because you were too busy staring. Sometimes, I feel like…ah, well, I am not really a person, more of a commodity to be viewed because of how I look. Everything is about my looks. It never felt like that when we talked.”

You don’t know how to reply. On one hand, you worry that your admission has lumped you in with the others. But it is still the truth, which he requested, and therefore to recant it would be a lie. So you just stand there, the camera heavy in your hands, unsure where to go from here.

The idea of being so beautiful that it puts up some sort of wall in between you and others is too much of a foreign concept to wrap your head around. You don’t want to belittle such a problem either; it would be something you would laugh at if read online but in person, staring at Seonghwa, you feel a little bit of pity.

Curiosity gets the better of you. “Is that why you got into modeling?”

“I fell into it. It wasn’t really a conscious decision. I got swept along with the tide. But I’m good at it. And I make good money,” He steps away from you, loosening up his shoulders and relaxing his posture, “Alright, everything out in the air now, right?” His fingers go to the buttons on his shirt, undoing two near his neck, showing a little bit of his chest. A thin silver necklace is exposed, a delicate chain resting against his skin. “Let’s try it again.”

Relief sweeps through you. Regardless of if Seonghwa is disappointed that his beauty impacted you or not, the awkward conversation is complete. There are no more secrets to discuss or weird vibes hanging around. Perhaps it would make a difference after all.

Strangely enough, it does. You find it easier to relax, to move closer to Seonghwa to achieve different shots. He seems more at ease as well, kicking off his shoes and trying different poses around the café. Somehow, over the course of the night, the buttons on the front of his shirt steadily undo, exposing more skin. Instead of distracting you, the camera catches the necklace against his toned chest, becoming the centerpiece of a few photos. Between that and the lip gloss, you are starting to think maybe the photoshoot won’t be a loss after all.

It is nearing eleven at night before you lower the camera, your legs aching from the uncomfortable position you’ve been settled in to get a shot of Seonghwa laying on the couch. His blonde hair is spread out around his face, framing it like a fragile halo, his lips shimmering, almost his entire shirt undone and slipping off his sides, exposing his chest and abdomen.

Having been so caught up in taking the photos, you hadn’t realized how you’ve been perched over Seonghwa. Your legs protest, causing you to flail awkwardly. His hands fly to your hips, grabbing onto them before you topple painfully into him. The camera hits the carpet with a small thudding noise as your hands come down flat against his stomach to steady yourself.

“Wow, sorry. My legs are numb, didn’t pay attention to what I was doing and for how long,” You explain sheepishly.

He laughs a little, another glimmer of perfectly white teeth. “It’s okay.”

It is then you become hyperaware of the fact that you are straddling him against the couch, his hands on your waist, his shirt unbuttoned and your fingertips against his bare skin. He looks like moonglow underneath you, all silver and white, something made for paintings and to be captured through a camera lens, not to be physically touched.

Scampering off him, you sit at the other side of the couch, trying to collect yourself. The casual air that formed between you since the admission of finding him attractive is now back to the same strained tension earlier. Seonghwa sits up, turning slightly so that he is facing you, one leg tucked underneath him, the other dangling off the couch. It is a casual pose, heightened by the way his shirt is open and hangs off his shoulders, one that would be great for a photo if your skin didn’t feel aflame and the camera was still on the carpet.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” You go, swallowing hard, risking a glance over at him.

“Sure,” He murmurs, “I think we got some good stuff in the second half.”

“Me too. I’ll send you what I have once I go through everything.”

“Alright.”

But neither of you move. The café is extremely silent and the only noise is the occasional car driving by outside. Your hand is very close to his, mere inches away on the couch cushion. For a split second, you think about reaching for him but quickly wonder what is wrong with you.

Seonghwa moves his hand away, taking your heart with it. He scoops your camera off the carpet and brings it to your lap, resting it gently there. Your hands curl around it as if it is an anchor.

His hand moves away from the camera and comes to rest on your thigh. Even though you’re wearing pants and there is no contact with your skin, the sight makes your head spin.

“I have something to tell you too,” Seonghwa goes as his hand travels upwards very slowly while shifting his entire body closer to you.

You manage to go, “Oh, yeah?” successfully even though your brain feels as if it is sizzling in your skull.

“It kinda ties into what I was saying before. About how I liked coming here because you didn’t treat me any differently or talk about my appearance. Even if you noticed it, you didn’t mention it until I did. It felt…new. You’re the first person to ever tell me that I am simply too gorgeous. That’s why I came back here. I wanted to see you.”

Surprised, your eyes flick upwards to look at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” He isn’t looking at your eyes but your lips instead, his own slightly parted and glimmering with the expensive lip gloss.

“You mean because I may think there is more to you than being really really really ridiculously good looking?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to jump off a bridge. Why the fuck am I quoting Zoolander to this man? What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I like this?

But Seonghwa actually laughs, moving a little closer to your body. The proximity to him is doing your head in. You’ve never wanted anyone as badly as you want Seonghwa.

“I believe that I’m attracted to you,” He shockingly says in the aftermath of your terrible joke.

Even though the rushing of blood to your head is very loud, you manage to reply, “You believe? Is it that confusing?”

The two of you are closer than ever, so close that it wouldn’t take much for him to lean forward and kiss you. Your chest is tight from the hope that he will and from the worry that he won’t.

“May I kiss you to make sure?” His words are soft, taking root in your chest and wiggling down as if going to sleep under a large blanket.

You feel intoxicated as if you’re going to fall right into Seonghwa’s expression forever. You manage to nod and he brings one hand up to cup your cheek, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. Your entire body is melting into him, your mouth opening as the kiss deepens. His gloss smears against your lips, his grip tightening on your thigh briefly as goosebumps break out across your skin.

Kissing Seonghwa feels different than all the previous kisses you’ve had before. There is something comforting and familiar about it even though you have never touched him prior. Your brain is delicious white noise, no concerns about the fact he is too beautiful for you or this must be some fever dream you’re having in your bed.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, the kiss deepening. It is difficult to wrap your head around the fact you are kissing Seonghwa in your café with his shirt hanging off his shoulders, the necklace against his toned chest, his slender frame so close to yours.

The kiss ends as Seonghwa brings his lips down across your jawline to your neck, kissing and nuzzling the skin there until your toes curl with heightening pleasure. It is easy to succumb to Seonghwa, not simply because he is so stunning and ethereal to be around, but because there is a heart underneath the beauty, a loneliness that makes him human after all.

He nibbles at your neck, just lightly enough to drive you crazy, and there are no more words spoken and no more conversations needed about where the two of you stand. Driven forward simply by desire, you are both swept up in one another. You grab his hand and bring it to your chest and he begins to grope your tits through your shirt and bra, his breathing quickening at the unspoken permission given to him. His lips are back on yours, his tongue in your mouth, the movements growing impatient as both of you want more. The kiss breaks just so Seonghwa can remove your shirt, pulling down your bra to free your tits.

He lowers his head to suck on one your nipples, his fingers pinching and tugging on the other one to make you sigh as your body responds to his touch. One of your hands is in his hair, silver blonde locks in between your fingers as he switches to suck on your other nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin slightly – just enough to make you jump a little from the touch. This only seems to spurn him on more, his shirt sliding down off his shoulders to expose the soft skin of his back. There is something vulnerable about this, something that makes you want him in a way that has your head spinning.

One of his hands snakes down to the button of your jeans, swiftly undoing it and sliding the zipper down. Seonghwa pushes away from your tits, the lip gloss long gone by now. Instead, his lips are flushed with colour from the kissing and sucking on your nipples.

“That helped me clear things up,” He says breathlessly, “I think I’m certain now that I like you.”

You want to reply, say something coy, something cute, but your brain is too empty for that. All you can do is muster a nod. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice because he is too busy shifting off the couch to his knees in front of you.

Removing your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear with your bra bunched up under your tits, you would assume the nerves would strike now. Here you are, after all, with the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen getting ready to eat you out by some chance of fate but instead the entire situation…feels almost familiar in some sort of way. There is no anxiety or fretting about anything. It is as if everything has fallen into place with him even though it typically takes you ages to feel comfortable going this far with someone.

Your legs reflexively open to give him room as Seonghwa runs one finger down the front of your underwear, taking a mental note of how wet you already are. Lowering his head, he begins to leave a trail of kisses along your thighs, working his way closer to your underwear. You watch, entranced at a sight that you thought would never be possible, transfixed at the shock of blonde hair in between your legs.

Seonghwa presses his lips against the thin fabric of your underwear, moving upwards and blowing gently on your clit just to drive you crazy. Hooking his thumbs into the band of your underwear, he slides them off you, not wasting any time in probing your folds with his tongue.

Your head rolls back against the couch, losing yourself in the way his tongue slips in your hole, the soft moan escaping from his lips as he tastes you. His movements are more languid now, he is taking his time as if he has thought about this before. Meticulously, he moves his tongue upwards, avoiding your clit just to make you shiver with need.

His hands gently rest on your thighs to make sure your pussy remains before him as his tongue swoops downwards back into your hole. Seonghwa’s nose brushes against your clit, causing you to jump and look down at him.

His eyes are closed, content to just slowly pump his tongue in and out of your wet hole. You can hear the quiet motions of his tongue against your wetness. At some point he must have shrugged out of his shirt, leaving his bare shoulders exposed. You are aching with desire, wishing that Seonghwa would move his tongue to your clit. As if hearing you, he brings his mouth upwards and gives a small suck on your swollen nub. This makes you gasp but he doesn’t stop. His mouth encircles your clit and he gives a harder slurp on it before swirling his tongue around it.

Seonghwa starts to lap at your nub, his mouth hot against your cunt. You are shivering, your thighs shaking from the heightening pleasure. It is then that he opens his eyes to look at you. The sight makes you moan, your breathing hard and fast at the sight of Seonghwa buried in between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your clit. He looks patient as if he could live in between your thighs. Maybe it is from thinking about him so much or the fact it is surreal to see him like this but your orgasm is already approaching.

Seonghwa closes his eyes, going back to sucking on your clit. The sounds of him slurping on it are pornographic, your moaning groaning louder as you grip his hair. Your head rolls back once more, your entire body tingling as your thighs clench. Seonghwa doesn’t stop, doesn’t change his speed. He seems confident in that you’ll finish at the pace he has settled on and you know that he is right.

Your orgasm begins, so intense that your hips buck but he doesn’t stop what he is doing. Seonghwa works his tongue against your clit as you climax, your moaning loud and pleading, unable to control yourself. He slows down his ministrations as your orgasm begins to subside. Once you have finished and are trying to catch your breath, he lazily licks at your hole, waiting for you to be able to focus once again.

Then he pulls away from your cunt. If the sight of him drinking coffee had been enough to give you heart palpations then the image of Seonghwa with his messy hair and face covered in your juices might push you over the edge.

“I liked when you straddled me earlier,” His voice is taunt with desire, “Would you do it again?”

At this point you are convinced that you would do anything he requested. Giving a nod since you’re too out of breath to talk, Seonghwa stands up, quickly removing his pants and boxers, stroking his hard cock. The sight of him touching himself like that is too much – his long and slender fingers wrapped around his cock, the charm bracelet winking coyly at you, the necklace against his chest – he looks beautiful and before he can get on the couch, you lean forward and take him in your mouth.

Surprised by this, Seonghwa makes a small noise in the back of his throat that quickly turns into a stifled groan as your lips wrap around the head of his cock, tasting his precum. He is a little too large for your mouth but you start to suck on him, your cheeks hollowing as you do so. Drool pools on the bottom of your lips, sticky strands mixing with his precum. His hand is lightly resting on the back of your head, a silent plea for more. You take as much of him as possible until he hits the back of your throat. When his cock slips out of your mouth from gag reflex, the spit and cum has gotten all over your bra.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” He says and it is evident from his tone that some part of him is longing just for you to suck him until he unloads in your mouth, fighting against the other part of him that wishes to fuck you.

For the first time, you form a sentence that is tinged without anxiety or nerves. “Then fuck me.”

Seonghwa’s eyes are hazy with desire as he lays back down on the couch, his hands reaching out for your waist, tugging you back onto him in the same position as your accidental fall earlier. Your pussy presses against his hard cock and you rock your hips tentatively just to hear Seonghwa sharply inhale. He reaches down to hold his cock so you can bring yourself down on it.

Between the mess of your orgasm and his cock covered in spit and precum, your pussy takes him easily. The sensation is so intense that your hands go to his stomach to steady yourself, trying to get used to how stuffed you are.

“Fuck yourself on me,” He says, his voice like jagged glass, “I want to watch your pussy take my cock.”

You begin to bounce on him, taking him as deep as possible every time you move down. Seonghwa is underneath you like a sliver of the moon, his blonde hair tousled, his body slender and lithe, the necklace jostling with each bounce. His cheeks are flushed with slight colour, his lips a delicious pink. His hands are on your waist, helping you take his cock, eyes cast downward to watch the way your pussy swallows him. The sight is driving you wild which only drives you to thrust down harder.

With each movement, you can hear how wet you are and can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate him. You are dimly aware of the noise that you are making. The small part of your brain still running on logic cannot believe you’re fucking Seonghwa in your café but it is a very quiet part.

Seonghwa groans loudly, his eyes closing with one particularly hard thrust. He lifts his hips up, unable to help himself, driving his cock deep in your wet pussy. You gasp, your fingers tightening around his necklace for something to hold onto. This just seems to make him want more because he begins to jerk his hips up, no longer waiting for you. Your knuckles are white from the way you grip the necklace, leaning forward a bit as he rams his thick cock in you. You are groaning, begging for him not to stop because he is hitting your sweet spot from this angle. You’re going to cum again, this time around his girth.

Seonghwa is panting, erratically thrusting. Each jerk of his hips makes your body rock as your climax draws closer. You may be telling him that you’re close or it could be gibberish tumbling from your mouth; you aren’t sure. You don’t care. Urgently, you try to match his movements with your own, attempting to be in sync. But Seonghwa’s pace is impossible to match. Your face rests on his chest now, his hands moving from your hips to grip your ass, driving his cock deep in you. The sound of skin against skin is the loudest next to Seonghwa’s heartbeat in your ear. You think that you might be drooling against him, your head blissfully blank as your body shudders.

You curse loudly, and realize that you’ve tugged too hard on his necklace – the chain has broken and it is wrapped around your hand. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to care, too intent on chasing his own orgasm. With one final harried moan, your pussy tightens around his length as you begin to climax.

Seonghwa grunts, spilling out in your pussy, filling you up with his load. He shudders, going still as he finishes. You can feel how much cum is in you, can feel your pussy milking his cock for it, the way your thighs are sticky from it.

You go limp against him, slowly opening the palm of your hand to see tiny idents from the necklace against your skin.

“I broke your necklace,” You mumble, dazed as Seonghwa slips out of you, his breathing heavy.

“That’s okay,” He pants – clearly the necklace is not on his mind.

For the next ten minutes, the two of you are silent, just tired blobs entwined. At one point, you can feel him tracing lazy circles against your back as he gently stirs back to life.

“Well,” He finally says into the quiet café, “I guess the photoshoot went well.”

“Guess so,” You mumble, feeling content against him.

“Maybe we can do more in the future.”

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at Seonghwa. He doesn’t even look unsure or worried about your denial of such a request – a thinly veiled statement disguised as a question of asking you out – and why would he? The connection between the two of you is real, even if you find it difficult to wrap your head around it.

“Well, I guess it’ll help me practice my photography,” Another full sentence! Amazing what fucking someone can do for social anxiety, “So, I agree.”

Seonghwa gives you a small smile before pulling you towards him, his lips against yours, hands on your lower back. The words of this beautiful man who wants you are now shining brightly in your mind, a promise of things to come and of future possibilities with him.

the end.

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fics #kpop fic #lonely in gorgeous #100 notes #500 notes

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bettathanyou · 5 months

Note

I'm really new to the fandom (I got in it because I am absolutely in love with this wet-cat of a man, Cedric) but I already have the head canon that Cedric thinks he's (romantically) unlovable. It just doesn't compute in his brain that someone could have such feelings about him. Sure, he can be liked and admired but never loved. (Probably due to his traumas)

Can you write a little thing about Y/N being not very subtle about their feelings but Cedric just doesn't get it. Sofia tries to even be a little match-maker!

Sofia: I think Y/N has a crush on you! :D Cedric: You should know better than to lie.

Take A Hint: Y/N x Cedric The Sorcerer, Having A Crush!

"Cedric!"

Your voice carried through the breeze of the garden, the trees rustling softly alongside your hair being tousled by the wind. It was another fair weather, perfectly sunny day in Enchancia; right now, though, all you cared about was centered on the sorcerer in plum stained robes.

He was grumbling to himself, oblivious to your approach.

"Cedric...!"

You called out louder, your pace subconsciously picking up as you approached Cedric. Upon your second greeting, the man visibly flinched, clearly snapped out of whatever daze he was in before.

Cedric quickly turned his head towards you standing there, his mahogany irises lighting up in recognition and warmth. The man's lanky body was still half bent over the lavender bush in front of him, with silvery grey bangs hung slightly in his eyes.

You beam Cedric a giddy smile, feeling your heart race by just seeing those caramel eyes fixed on you. What made your stomach flip, though, was seeing the sweet and shy smile creep along the sorcerer's cheeks to return your own smile.

In a last minute decision, you decide to be bold; because, well- you tried being subtle for weeks about your feelings! You had hoped for all the small touches, winks from catching eye contact, and compliments that the sorcerer would've noticed by now.

However, Cedric wasn't getting it; you were going to go mad at this rate, if this slow burn got any damn slower.

Your fingers gently brush a lock of thick, silky silver out of Cedric's eye. You see the man freeze from contact, clearly not expecting such close proximity. Cedric swallows, hard, holding his breath and hoping you couldn't hear his heart slamming against his chest.

His eyes stay fixed on you, as you adjust his bangs without a word- and you certainly weren't complaining. Cedric's eyes were already a lovely light brown color on their own, but in the bright summer sun they shined like pools of molten gold, the kind any noble or king would envy.

He was beautiful, and the glow in your cheeks damned you to how much you liked him.

As you pull your hand away, your fingertips brush against his cheek. It was like a match being struck against the grain, setting Cedric's skin ablaze with a red hue.

You giggle slightly, biting your tongue trying not to embarrass him further.

"... Your bangs are starting to get longer, Cedric." You commented with a smirk, unabashedly checking him out.

"It's- Uh, well- I..." The sorcerer fumbles with his words, then his hands with a nervous tick.

"I like it, you know."

I like you, too. You thought to yourself, the words almost tumbling out of your throat alongside it.

Cedric laughs awkwardly, clearly unsure how else to take your compliment other than a small, "Thank you, dear."

Wait.

"...Dear?"

You cock your head to the side, a Cheshire grin spreading across your face.

Cedric raises his brows in equal parts surprise and distress, as if he didn't even know what came out of his mouth. He scrambles to say something, but you don't give him the opportunity to apologize or try to take back what he said.

"I think I like that, too~"

You confess with a soft chuckle, breaking eye contact as your own bashfulness begins to catch up to you. You rub your arm a little self consciously, to soothe your nerves before glancing back at the sorcerer.

Cedric inwardly flinches from your eyes catching his own again. He didn't understand why you were so nice, and friendly, and happy to be around someone like him, but. It felt... Good- and nerve-wracking.

Definitely nerve-wracking.

It was like your presence alone made every nerve ending in his body be set on fire, and he wasn't exactly sure why. But the stinging glow of his cheeks, raised body temperature, and sudden loss for words due to a curious kind of brain fog that only happens around you...

Cedric shakes his head, blinking quickly to regain his focus. He didn't know how long he was staring for, and frankly the sorcerer didn't want to think about it. He stutters out a response, clearing his throat.

"Well, if you're al-alright with t-that, I can address you as s-uch." The sorcerer speaks in a neutral tone, but with a slight raise to his voice as if he was asking for permission.

You bite your tongue to barely conceal a squeal of happiness.

"That's fine..." You drawled out, but then quickly added, "Can call you dear, too?"

Cedric glances away, tugging on his muted yellow ochre tie. His initial response was to ask "why?" , because he wasn't sure why you would use such a term of endearment, for someone like himself.

But then, he also knew if he asked you why, then he would have to answer your following question, which is usually,

"well, why not?"

"...I suppose that's only fair; alright then."

Cedric nods, straightening up and smoothing down the front of his robe. He clears his throat again, taking in a deep breath.

"So, what did you need from me... D-dear?" Cedric chuckles nervously to himself, suddenly feeling very aware of everything and especially you, staring at him and making his heart race uncontrollably.

You huff in amusement, lips curled into a small smile.

"I just wanted to spend my break in the garden, really. Then, I saw you! So I wanted to say hi and chat- if you're not too busy...?"

You glanced over to the lavender bush Cedric was studying before you interrupted. It seemed like nothing was picked just yet, and suddenly you feel nervous about distracting Cedric from his work. You know the tight schedule he can have, over the course of getting to know him between his running around doing things for Roland or the royal children.

You go to open your mouth to apologize, but before a word can leave your lips Cedric is already speaking.

"No...! No, not at all, (y/n). I-I mean, yes, I am busy, but I meant-..." Cedric scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly as he trails off.

Your heart flutters, whether it's from his smile or your own anxiety, you weren't sure.

"...Yes, my dear?" You offer with a smile, rocking on your heels for emphasis.

Cedric chuckles softly at that, his shoulders relaxing as he laughs. You can only smile wider in return, a loss for words at how every mannerism of his makes you come undone at the seams.

"I will always have time for you, (y/n)."

Cedric speaks with a soft, but confident voice, nodding to you. You blink, not expecting such a drastic shift of attitude from the sorcerer.

"Ri-right...!" You replied, voice shaking slightly. Now, it seems it was your turn to be flustered beyond coherent thought.

You both continue to chit chat about things happening currently in the castle, as well as get to listen to Cedric explain what he's using the lavender he's harvesting for; unsurprisingly, it's for a potion.

To be honest, you couldn't really focus on what he was saying entirely, because of Cedric's tendency to (cutely) ramble about magic things. But you didn't care in the slightest; the shimmer in his eyes as he speaks with passion about things he loves, is all that you need to see.

Afterwards, you sadly tell Cedric you have to get back to work, but then ask really quick if you can stop by his workshop later to see the potion he's making in action. He agrees, almost too quickly, which leaves you with a smile that lasts all day.

"I'll see you then, dear!" You call out, waving your hand in goodbye.

Cedric waves back, not realizing the smile on his own face.

________

"Mr. Cedric!" Sofia barks out excitedly, already running over to the tall man.

Cedric yells in surprise, nearly jumping out of his skin from the sudden appearance of his apprentice and friend.

"Princess...! Merlin's mushrooms, child, you scared me half to death!" Cedric chided her with a huff, pushing back his bangs.

"Sorry...!" The young girl peeks up from her auburn curls, flashing Cedric an apologetic smile.

After a beat, Cedric relents, sighing in resignation.

"It's quite alright. Did you get everything on the list I gave you?"

"Yup! All accounted for!"

Sofia displays her basket of herbs and flowers proudly with a bright, cheery smile.

Cedric hums in approval, quickly looking over everything to make sure it's correct.

After a moment, he nods, patting Sofia's head in praise.

"Excellent work, my dear."

Sofia chuckled warmly. "Thanks, Mr. Cedric."

As they brought in the ingredients for the potion, Sofia eyed the man with a mischievous smile.

"So... You're gonna show (y/n) the potion too, right Mr. Cedric?"

Cedric paused for a moment, looking down at the girl. She wore a smile he knew all too well meant trouble, and he didn't like it.

"You know better than to eavesdrop, Princess."

"I wasn't...! I mean, not really! I just couldn't help but overhear while picking the flowers!"

Sofia grabbed a daffodil for emphasis, holding it up to the sorcerer like it was indisputable evidence.

Cedric scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as he waved her off.

"Yes, yes, I understand what you mean, Sofia."

As they continue down the hall, about to turn the corner into Cedric's tower staircase, Sofia speaks again.

"You know, Mr. Cedric, (y/n) seems to really like you. Do you think... She might..." The girl wanders off, biting her lip and smiling.

"She might what?" Cedric prompts her with a concerned tone, his hands turning clammy as the silence fills the space around them.

"...You know! likes, likes you?" Sofia giggles, eyeing Cedric with another smile.

Cedric huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea makes his cheeks flare a bright red at the thought, even if the idea was absurd to begin with. After all, it's you. You're too beautiful, too kind, too interesting, too- too you, to even consider a bumbler like himself.

"It's rude to gossip, Sofia. You ought to know better." Cedric scowled, giving the girl a pointed look with a raised brow.

"I'm just saying...!" Sofia replied in a sing song voice, shrugging.

Now-," Cedric turns to her, pulling out his wand. With a flick of the wrist, the basket disappeared, teleported back to the cluttered table of his workshop beyond the door.

"As much as I appreciate your hard work today, I'm afraid I have to do the rest alone." Cedric speaks with a firmer, but still kind tone.

"Well... Alright! I hope everything goes well with your potion, Mr. Cedric!" Sofia waves in goodbye, and the sorcerer smiles and gives her a wave in return. Her purple and pink shirts swish as she turns to bounce down the steps, hearing the familiar creak of Cedric's door about to shut.

Sofia glances back, smiling brightly.

"I hope things go well with you-know-who, too!"

Cedric's heart stops, and he flings the door open to scold the child again. Yet, the only thing on his steps now was empty space, and the echo of Sofia's giddy laugh as she stomps down the staircase.

"...Don't run, Sofia! You're going to fall one of these days!" Cedric yells with the impatient yet caring attitude that Sofia knows and loves.

Though Cedric sighs wearily, he shuts his door with a broad smile on his face, his heart aching in that unfamiliar but welcome way that means he's thinking of you.

#cedric the sensational #cedricthesorceror #sophia the first #cedric x reader #bettathanyou answers #cedric the sorcerer #cedric sofia the first #hehe this was SO FUN TO WRITE AUGH

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nanamimizz · 11 months

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𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

tags: wc- 984, fem reader, discussion of starting a family, hints of kaeaya's backstory, sfw but mentions of sex, mention of alcohol, established relationship when kaeya is shown being good with kids something happens to me.

synopsis: when a day with klee comes to an end, you find it hard to keep what you want for the future to yourself.

You have known Kaeya for years, and have loved him longer. You enjoy his teasing and wittiness, the way his eyelashes are longer than yours, and his habit of feeding your bites of food from his own hands.

However, the thing you love about Kaeya the most is how well he is with children. He’s playful enough to tag along with their games but responsible enough to reign them back in. Kaeya’s silver tongue is handy too when it’s time to get children to confess to accidents when things go awry. However, it leaves you utterly breathless with how well he is with Klee, the little Spark Knight had woken up with somehow more energy than usual and had run the two of you ragged with all the things she wanted to do. From dawn to dusk, game to game you feel your shoulders sag in relief as she finally falls asleep after you read the third bedtime story to her.

Kaeya nudges you, tucking your hair back, and murmurs to go get dressed for bed. You nod and step out of the room only to look back at how he gently undoes the small girl's pigtails and tucks her in. His hand, calloused from the sword but gentle around Klee’s pure spirit pets her head, and even from here you can see the soft smile on his handsome face as he makes his way to where you stand - lovesickness written all over your face. He makes a small noise of amusement, and you turn away to at least have some sort of dignity left but both you and him both know Kaeya sees through you like a crystal clear stream.

“What’s going through your mind?” He asks, letting his hand find their place on your hips, where the bones have molded themselves to his touch alone. You are quick to wrap your arms around him, tucking your face to his chest and through the small gap on his shirt you can feel the warmth of his skin on your forehead. You shudder as you feel his thumb rub against your hip as he closes the door behind him, letting Klee explore whichever dreamland she will find herself in tonight.

“You’re so good with her.” You mumble and you hear him laugh under his breath.

“She’s a sweet girl, it’s not hard.” He responds, letting the compliment roll over his back like water on a duck’s wing. He stifles a laugh at how you shake your head despite it still being pressed up against him. You are so cute like this - embarrassed by all the things you like about him that you can’t quite say.

“That’s not the point and you know it.” Still muffled he laughs at the ticklish vibrations of your mumbles against his chest.

“Oh? Then what is the point then?” He’s teasing - you know him, and you know he knows what you are thinking about.

“Do you think…do you want a family? With me?” You ask, voice gone hesitant and soft. His hands go from your hips to your lower back to rub in soothing circles. He’s thought about it before, you softened by age and a child with his hair and your face.

He’d want them to look like you, to have eyes that know not of sin and are rounded only by the wind’s embrace.

“Yes, sometimes.” He confesses and there is a fog in his eyes as he daydreams of the life he wants with you. Kaeya thinks of his childhood, of the warmth of Crepus’s hands and the gentle brotherhood that Diluc gave him.

“How many would you like, if we had them?” His answer comes out faster than he’d like to admit.

“Two, a boy and a girl. It’s nice to grow up with siblings.” Kaeya says and you can’t meet his eyes because there is something so deep in the shades of lavender that would drown if you dared to look up. A son and a daughter, you ponder - yes that would be nice, you almost sigh lovingly at the idea.

“Don’t tell me you want to start tonight?” He teases and you pull away to smack his shoulder playfully as he laughs quietly to avoid waking the little girl sleeping behind him. He is quick to catch your hand in his and begins to tug you upstairs, you chiding him quietly along the way.

“That is not appropriate Kaeya - especially with a guest in the house!” You hissed at him and he laughed a little more freely now that you are in the four walls of your bedroom. He looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh? So that one night when Jean stayed over-” He’s cut off again by you slapping his shoulder as to reprimand him. He keeps on laughing and is quick to wrap his arms around you again to love on you after teasing you.

“That’s not funny Kaeya, that was your idea anyways.” You mutter back, face flushed, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me my performance was that bad? I know I was a little drunk-”

“We both were drunk, that’s why we even got that far.” He chuckles at your admittance, and there’s love twinkling in the diamond of his eye as he looks at your side profile.

“We’ll get even farther right? Together? Far enough to start a family.” He asks and you lean into him the same way all lovers do. You nod, turning to meet his gaze with something soft like candlelight in the iris of your eyes.

“Yes, someday.” A smile paints his handsome face. He kisses you deeply and you can taste the juice he shared with Klee at dinner.

“Someday.” It is repeated back, and within its finality, there is a promise and Kaeya has chosen his ally for the future.

#lamb.writes #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff

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arcielee · 1 year

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Pay No Mind

Summary: Modern!FemaleReader has a delightful sex dream. Paring: AegonTargaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 2077 Warnings: Hints of voyeurism (thank you honey for this), oral (male receiving), p in v. Author's Note: So, this did not win the poll results, but gods help me, it was in the lead for a while, so I took initiative and started writing this. But then, the poll ended and it did not win. Anyway, here is this one-shot you technically did not ask for. ♥ A huge thank you to my beta readers @f4ll-for-you @aspen-carter @squirmhoney Seriously, I cannot thank you enough for your time to read over, share your insight and criticisms to help me be a better author. This is going to be a one-shot, but who knows? It is me, after all. A feral raccoon with a keyboard. Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess Series: This is a one-shot in the same AU as Call It Dreaming

It had to be a dream, or perhaps all the champagne your friends filled you with that night, but either way you could not deny what you saw in front of your eyes.

Aegon fucking Targaryen.

He was seated on a settee that was placed in front of his bed, wearing a silk robe that was spilling off his shoulders; one of his hands was gripped onto the velvet edge while his other tangled into the red curls of the faceless girl, who was on her knees and seated between his thighs.

You watched them with bated breath, your eyes wide to take them in.

The lewd sounds, the bobbing of her head was indication enough of the fellatio he was receiving. Aegon was beautiful, but his inattention was apparent. His head peered down at her, his silver waves spilling and framing his pale features, a contrast to the dark circles beneath his eyes. There was the hint of a smile, a half-hearted hum that spilled from his mouth as an encouragement for her to continue, and his gaze looked up and fell to you.

And then you saw it, the glimmer of his beautiful lavender eyes, followed by a smirk that splayed onto his lips.

His eyes remained on you and he grew louder, almost obscene with his groans and in return, it renewed her vigor with the act. His smirk spread and he bit into his bottom lip; his eyes did not leave you until he tightened his hold on her curls, her choked gag mixing with his guttural goan.

You could not tear your eyes away from the carnal act, your own arousal pooling between your thighs and your tongue wet your parted lips. You watched the bob of his neck, how his head tilted back as he almost laughed with a visible shudder of his release. Then his attention returned to you and you felt your thighs clenched with anticipation.

Aegon stood abruptly and the red head fell back; the front of her gown had been torn open and her breasts spilled as she fell onto the cobblestone with a squeak of surprise. He then reached to grab hold of her tresses and dragged her towards the door, his eyes still mindful of you.

“Your grace?” She gasped, staggering steps to keep with his gate.

He said nothing to her and reached for the handle, opening and pushing her through the door frame; you heard her cry out again as she spilled into the corridor.

You were unable to see who he spoke to when he commanded, “Return her to wherever she came from and no one else is to disturb me.”

Aegon then closed the door, turning to face you and reaching for the sash to knot around his waist; his robe remained open at his chest and his chiseled, pale planes peaking through. “Well, little minx,” he moved towards you, close enough for you to feel the breath of his words. “How did you manage to get into my chambers, unseen?”

It was a valid question. Only earlier, your friends announced it to be a girl’s night, a new beginning to wash away the remnants of the heartbreak from a messy break-up you had been dealing with for the prior month. You showered and did your make-up, agreeing to wear whatever outfit they picked out, which was the black dress you wore in this moment, that held to your curves like a second skin and included the lace thong you wore underneath.

Your grief had you living in sweats and a baggy shirt, rewatching House of the Dragon with an emphasis on episodes eight and nine. “You cannot just pine away for some fictional man, bitch,” your roommate said to you, pulling you out from underneath your makeshift nest of pillows and blankets. “You need a shower and you need to go out and get fucking laid.”

You had begrudgingly agreed, mostly since it felt an eternity since your last proper shower. She rallied your emotional support, she picked out your outfit, she picked out your shoes, and she even made sure you always had a drink in hand. It had been fun; you danced to your heart’s content with your friends, but kept your distance from anything male that dared approached. When your feet ached she even paid for your Uber home.

“Text me our code when you are home,” she said, tucking you into the car and helping you with your seatbelt. “Drink some water and rest, bitch.”

You remembered getting home, making sure to text once you were inside, this bussy arrived alive, and you stumbled into your room, struggling to maintain your balance in your black, sandal heels.

When you had looked up, that’s when you had seen him and that woman; and that’s when Aegon had spotted you.

“You are an exquisite beauty,” he pressed closer and you felt the warmth radiate off his bare skin, smelled the bittersweet wine that stained his lips rosy.

There was a shuddered pleasure that washed over you with the look in his eyes and how they rolled over you; goosebumps rose over your skin that showed. This isn’t real, you reasoned with yourself. It’s the mixture of the break-up and alcohol that clearly has me hallucinating this beautiful blonde man.

But this hallucination seemed palpable in the moment and your breath hitched with his touch, as his finger trailed along the neckline of your dress with a devilish grin to his lips.

You could hear the echo of your roommate in your head, get fucking laid.

Embolden by his words, you touched his chest and peered up at him through your eyelashes; he tilted his head to meet your lips with a fervent passion. You reciprocated, enjoying the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips; you moaned softly and could taste the bittersweet wine as his tongue curled into your mouth. You sighed from the subtle tremor that flitted throughout your body, until it was a tingle in the apex of your thighs and they clenched in response to his clever tongue.

His palms were large and warm through the satin fabric of your dress, trailing your sides and stopping at the small of your waist; his fingers gripped onto your hip bones, pulling you to mold against his body and more goosebumps rippled over you.

“As much as I appreciate how this fits to you,” he said in-between kisses, his mouth moving from your jawline and then latching to the nape of your neck, his teeth biting and his hands palming your satin covered curves. He pulled back, “I much prefer to see what is underneath.”

You were flushed from the kisses and the champagne that still bubbled in your veins; you pressed your hands against his chest with a sultry whisper. “Allow me to show you, your grace.”

You turned until your back was towards him, the backside of your dress low enough for your fingers to find the zipper and pull it to show him how it could be undone; you giggled when you felt his fingers quickly grab and pull it down the rest of the way. You looked over your shoulder, relishing in his wide eyed expression as your dress pooled around your ankles and you were only wearing that lacy thong.

Aegon swallowed, his finger trailing the waistband before he finally met with your eyes. You saw the hunger in his gaze, how the black of his pupils swallowed the color of his iris.

You turned around to sit back onto the bed, reaching to remove one heel; he was quick to kneel and remove the other, then pressing to climb on top of you, his arm curling around your waist and pulling you up onto the bed, until your backside was flushed against his chest. You giggled at his eagerness, the sound trailing off as his fingers began to softly trail your curves and pressing against your clothed cunt.

“So wet for your king already,” he growled into the shell of your ear, his breath tickling.

He slipped beneath the lace with the slow circular motion of his digit to find your pearl, his touch sending a tremor throughout your body; your head tilted back against his shoulder, a soft moan spilling from your lips.

You could feel his smile and he pressed against you, his half-hard cock pressing against your ass, matching the slow rhythm of his wrist movement. His mouth was hot as he bit into your shoulder, and then your neck, and you moaned as your pleasure pooled between your thighs.

There was a rip of fabric as he tore away your underwear, his now hardened length slipping between the softness of your thighs, his cock rubbing against your wet folds. His palm moved to shift you and align himself at your entrance, sheathing himself into you.

You whimpered with the delicious stretch as he filled you completely. His groan was low and his head fell forward, nestling into the back of your neck and he began the languid motion of his hips, as if to savor your velvet walls. “Gods,” he praised, his breath tickled still. ”It is as if you were made to take my cock.”

His pace quickened, his fingers biting into your hips bones and rutting into you until the tremors of passion began to spread throughout, towards the peaks of your thighs. You felt him slip, with a curse and a cry combined on his lips and you moved, quick to climb on top of him.

Aegon watched as your straddled him and reached to curl your fingers around his girth, a tight hold between your thighs; his eyes followed the line of spittle that you allowed to leave your kiss swollen lips and spilled onto his flushed tip, his eyes fluttering when your thumbs moved to rub it over the head.

You lifted your hips and lined him with your entrance, slowly lowering yourself and gasping softly once he was completely inside you again. Your fingers pressed onto his chest, balancing yourself as you rolled your hips and watched his head tilt back into the pillow, how the rose color spilled from his cheeks and to his chest, where your hands were placed.

His palms were clammy as they reached to cup your face, bringing you forward until your hair curtained around, finding your lips once more. Aegon lifted his lips upwards to meet with your motion and you clenched in response, his moan vibrating against your mouth. He broke the kiss, his hands moving to hold your hips and he began to rut up into you.

You met his pace, making a soft noise as he reached that sweet spot within; your eyes watched his brow furrow above his beautiful eyes, his one hand slid and pressed into the inside of your thigh, his thumb in-between the top of your folds; you mewled when he found your pearl, his motion matching the rhythm of his hips.

You felt your pleasure begin to crest, the building coil of warmth in your lower abdomen from the touch of his palm pressed against, his thumb flitting back and forth. Soft sighs accompanied the flutter of your velvet walls, your cunt clenching and you felt his thrusts grow sloppy with his own release.

Aegon pushed himself to sit upright, one arm to brace himself while the other wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, his lips touching your own softly. He rolled until you fell to the side and then he pulled you towards his chest. “Your grace,” you whispered against his skin. “I should be going…” you started, even though you were uncertain how to even leave.

“No,” his voice was already groggy and he reached to touch your chin, tilting your head upright for another kiss. He then nuzzled into your hair, “I wish you to stay so you may serve your king in the morning.”

You could feel his smile once more and your cheeks grew warm with his words; you remained where you were, unmoving until the sunlight creeped in. You felt like your skull was splitting and pushed from the pillows to see you were in your bed and that you were completely naked.

What a weird dream, you thought and saw a bottle of water placed on your nightstand with a note attached to it.

Hydrate, bitch.

Arcie’s Masterlist

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x modern!femalereader #aegon targaryen x modern!femreader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #the poll results are in #and i wrote this instead #call it dreaming #pay no mind

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