#than he kissed women(literally only once)

[chessb0r3d]

i cracked the code.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 12.8k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)

hongjoong

pov: you're the king's royal courtesan

“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”

when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head

he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness

“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”

“i don’t,” he simply says

and it’s true

hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness

he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls

hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans

it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king

the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?

he never sees the same courtesan more than once

“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”

you smirk when he curses and throws his head back

his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low

“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”

he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck

you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status

part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer

you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you

lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services

it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another

whether the rumours about his stamina will be true

whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule

except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever

lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer

lady shin is not amused to say the least

with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead

and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for

(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)

(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)

your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed

you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”

“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts

you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching

“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”

for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too

“as if. fuck off”

your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation

“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour

when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you

hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you

he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you

hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants

when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”

“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back

he raises an eyebrow

oh yeah?

he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm

now that shuts you up

for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name

and another request turns into another

and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name

but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship

he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings

he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring

you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything

“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”

“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings

he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with

you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open

you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him

except, when you look up to see if he’s following?

his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you

“were you even paying attention?”

he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all

in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet

he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke

he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times

you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway

there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too

(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)

you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him

when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past

“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”

lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder

she laughs then asks to have a look

you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise

“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery

“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify

you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’

lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you

“it says, my flower”

you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later

lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her

“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”

this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you

you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan

and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall

my flower

you hesitate

“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”

lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her

the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now

you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet

(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)

you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway

and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand

it’s nice, basking in each other's presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours

not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy

and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day

“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him

he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”

then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”

“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”

said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again

“no i’m not!”

“whatever you say,” you smirk

after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later

which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much

but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long

you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift

yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass

you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth

he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”

you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone

guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed

“do you trust me?” he whispers

trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”

you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift

you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air

and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing

“you can look now,” he tells you

you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect

it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus

and you gasp

there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon

“try it on,” he encourages

but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing

it’s patchy

it’s uneven

it has empty areas

but it is no doubt embroidery

“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you

“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”

“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”

you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing

he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him

upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”

you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”

he looks at you impossibly soft

under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core

you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers

it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue

so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth

you suck on them a little harder

a little deeper

and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”

he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches

“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall

“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”

he doesn’t need further encouragement

he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds

it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them

he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly

then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp

“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you

the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room

and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name

he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers

he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs

when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs

a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter

“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”

it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time

your mouth drops in disbelief

when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”

“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”

“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”

you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”

he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips

“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”

“very good plan,” you grind up against him

and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”

hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny

“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”

seonghwa

pov: you're his royal guard

as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away

you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety

one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear

they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear

from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits

seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though

unsurprising but still grating

the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside

albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left

it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen

the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see

“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks

“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile

you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map

on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt

you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch

because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention

but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either

so you strike in his stead

your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping

his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee

scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him

"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle

"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"

"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins

“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”

he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”

“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”

“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”

you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up

it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector

it has been almost four years since it happened

somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him

you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator

an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle

seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution

to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned

you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement

it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him

as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision

“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge

not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness

and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him

you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang

quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked

neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows

he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again

you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly

it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism

one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more

where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice

“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him

“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort

yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with

where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield

you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike

you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status

and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself

where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution

your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for

he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway

you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew

but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him

as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way

seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him

he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you

(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)

(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)

you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with

after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you

not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face

yes.

especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies

he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song

seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck

except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness

the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth

you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you

needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping

but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it

like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers

it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects

conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room

everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon

when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet

and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls

baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting

“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice

he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed

as if they are-

“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”

okay

most definitely proudly 

you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger

“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to

“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”

“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else

that is more than enough for him, though

which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things

he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth

you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter

you wonder if his lips will taste the same…

but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind

because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow

how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?

so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship

you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation

seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together

it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart

he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of

and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…

in love with you

following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around

but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts

until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace

seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail 

then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder

you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-

until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land

it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side

when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief

“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell

“i-”

taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”

“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer

“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”

for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing

seonghwa swallows

“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”

your throat tightens at his words

it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips

he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes

“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”

“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation

“because i’m in love with you” 

right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response

“then that makes the two of us,” you confess

you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop

you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side

raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips

it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile

you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him

“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”

you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you

“does this mean i get to retire?”

yunho

pov: you're part of a rebel group

the crown prince is not in his fucking library

for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night

until today

under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing

except doing that would make your job significantly harder…

considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.

you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch

following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash

a leash made of barbed wire

people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline

although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s

within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters

the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination

dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners

and you are amongst the elite team

which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince

except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong

which never happens

you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine

he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards

you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave

only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof

their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same

you run

you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room

when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs

this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long

if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards

so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower

keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump

you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees

then you wait

he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground

“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm

you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”

now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-

wait

even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same

the same as those on the elite team

“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions

except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build

being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours

he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet

when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”

we

he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team

you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him

“when is red most beautiful?”

it is a vague question with a fixed answer

one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself

during the sunrise of a new beginning 

“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely

the tension releases from your shoulders 

“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”

the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease

you both flip over the top and land in unison

the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest

the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols

you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps

and then you hear it

the shattering clang of a desperate parry

all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut

you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords

bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you

several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury

it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you

and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate

you have the element of surprise

but only for the next few seconds

you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing

there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed

you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them

except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away

the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive

but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them

you.

you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword

the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness

in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam

you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand

but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling

“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder

you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground

you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries

there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse

which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks

how did he know about the attack in the first place?

you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him

except…the man has disappeared

and so has the intruder’s body

days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library

you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise

this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line

you spot him

he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments

you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer

you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles

and there the crown prince stands

he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy

mercy that you have no intention of showing him

the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none

“it’s you again, isn’t it?”

you freeze

the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you

“you were here a few days ago”

fuck

how he knows you have no idea

what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well

the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy

“you are part of red sun, are you not?”

this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel

it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does

what the actual fuck

you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy

“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”

his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”

“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff

but then his next words change everything

“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”

before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince

“hide,” he hisses urgently

and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible

you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf

“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say

from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”

“of course, crown prince yunho”

even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice

they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”

“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”

“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”

yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them

is this the same crown prince as the rumours?

and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?

you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face

he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility

“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask

your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you

but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level

“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”

your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor

because how is any of this possible?

you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you

it makes you feel so strange

the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier

yunho starts to explain

a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people

thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined

in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning

a new leadership

except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked

“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”

he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”

yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained

he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence

“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry

yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”

you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look

yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-

“a suicide pill?” 

you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing

the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like

you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves

but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb

it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar

yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given

whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well

there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho

but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends

you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence

except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle

other times he is the one trying to fluster you

“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”

“i was taking the pill out to show you!” 

you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap

“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”

he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”

other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on

“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes

and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly

“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”

you swallow hard

you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up

“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side

you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee

and eventually, you two have a breakthrough

yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine

in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’

“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs

you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder

pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two

they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious

“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”

you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea

he doesn’t - not at first

not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image

“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”

the king’s butler?

lee?

your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours

“lee minjun”

you sink back in your seat

there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved

the question of why and what for remains

in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too

there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future

yunho breaks the silence first

“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”

after this all ends

you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too

you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne

the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon

the new beginning is close

and at that, something in you relaxes

crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief

“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”

and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once

ironically, yunho chokes on air

you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes

you think your eyes are deceiving you because-

the tips of his ears are a glowing red

you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess

the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”

“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles

“and why is that?” you humour him

he finally looks at you

and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours

“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”

yeosang

pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him

ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang

it just made sense

for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies

it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding

so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love

and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned

if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang

he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room

he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard 

they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger

you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”

if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now

you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy

if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid

stupidly in love

because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince

unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing

it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world

but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written

the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace

it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage

you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter

whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words

whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him

two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom

and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter

your whole life you have been able to wait patiently

you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity

the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace

even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him

nothing can bring you down from cloud nine

only…the letter never comes

not the day after, not the week after, not the month after

you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up

you send him another letter, and then another, and another

sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said

other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears 

and you also wonder about him

you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are

with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits

you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply 

until-

you do.

it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile

with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded

your mind races with anticipated words and explanations

perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier

or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit

you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-

stop sending me letters.

and just like that, the clock strikes twelve

your carriage reverts into a pumpkin

and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes

you don’t write to him again.

years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them

they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son

now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife

really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can

you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed

she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”

“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”

you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you

“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully

“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”

you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”

“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals

caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before

you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless

later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”

before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff

there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway

heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning

the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting

you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again

if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish

“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”

when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none

“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”

you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”

“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”

oh?

flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself

because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang? 

first the vase, and now this

you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud

your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much

when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky

you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up

you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions

and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-

“are you okay?”

yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door

he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”

thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind

you start with half truths

“just missing my little brother”

“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”

you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon

it implies he’s noticed you

“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod

something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name

you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently

“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”

“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth

“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind” 

it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b

yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes

when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly

“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”

you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”

“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”

it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don’t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky

“yeah, that’s okay”

you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance

it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences

you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him

the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters

because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up

as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore

“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice

yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open

and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says

“you wrote me letters?”

your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception

“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”

“impossible. i never got your letters” 

your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”

“wait,” he interrupts

yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”

upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp

it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar

“not the seal, no”

he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”

you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment

“but then-”

but then who wrote the letter?

and where did all your letters go?

the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju

a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile

no, not a smile, you realise

a smirk

you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness

yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful

“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him

it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately

“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”

“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”

he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers

“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly

then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought

he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these” 

he turns around to reveal a bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously

“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around

“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands

and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”

yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers

you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know

eight flowers

eight letters

i l-o-v-e y-o-u

[zhongrin]

a hybrid’s instincts

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, gorou, tighnari, (bonus) platonic!diona

◇ tags ◇ pregnancy, afab!reader, dragon!zhongli

◇ a/n ◇ what's that? will i ever stop pushing the dragon!zhongli agenda? hahahahahahahhahahhaha hhahaha ha ha- no.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

oh? what's this? it seems like your pregnancy triggered something in these men. their more… "animal side", perhaps?

ever since baizhu’s confirmation - actually, even weeks before that - zhongli has been very reluctant to let you wander out of the house. or even out of his sight, in general (which is quite strange since with his enhanced dragon senses you know he’s able to locate you within the house with no problems at all).

at night, you sometimes wake up to him in his dragon form. sometimes it’s his compact form nuzzling and he's purring near your stomach, sometimes it’s his half-dragon form where he’ll place his head beside your stomach with his tail curling around you protectively. it doesn’t matter whether you’re already showing or not; your heartbeat and the little hatchling’s brings him a sense of comfort that he needs, lest he becomes restless.

his nesting behavior is out of control. he’ll bring you all the pillows and blankets, surround you with the nicest smelling flowers, make you always wear his shirt, and he’ll bring anything you want to the bed so you don’t have to leave the nest. the further you are into your pregnancy, the more reluctant he is to leave you alone. he ends up taking that paternal leave hu tao has been telling him to get. bless her.

gorou is just as excited as he’s alerted. kokomi will have to force her best general to take a temporary leave from the army throughout your pregnancy because he’s so jumpy and sensitive to literally everything and his behavior is making all of the soldiers anxious.

gorou insists that you take a walk with him every day; just something light around the block to keep you from feeling lethargic. he’s also developed a habit to sniff everything that will touch your hand. yes, that includes your supposedly harmless change of clothes. it’s not ridiculous in his opinion! it’s a necessary precaution!!

will snarl when a stranger approaches you and tries to touch you in any way, even if it’s just a friendly gesture. he would be so embarrassed and apologetic about it afterward, but only once you’re at the safe haven of your house.

are you a forest ranger? an adventurer? does your profession require you to venture into the wilderness? welp, say goodbye to your job for the time being, because there is no way in any cycles of samsara tighnari would let you go into the dangers outside while you’re carrying his pups.

walking arm-in-arm whenever you're out and about is a must these days. whenever a villager congratulates you, you can sense his hold tightening despite the polite smile on his lips. if it was up to his instinct, he wouldn’t have let you get out of the house, but rationally he knows you need to move around and breathe in the fresh air.

though you still won’t be exempt from your beloved’s sassiness (”you want me to get you coffee…? do you think i’m an idiot?”) as long as what you ask for doesn’t harm you, he’s at your every beck and calls now, no question asked. you’re craving for collei’s specialized pita pockets? he’ll learn the damn recipe from collei herself and serve it on your favorite plate the next day. you want to be carried everywhere? good thing he’s got the physique fitting for the head of the forest rangers. you want ten kisses a day? say no more; he’ll give you thirty.

[bonus - platonic]

at first, diona seems super indifferent about it, only reacting with a ‘hmph… congrats, i guess’, but her actions speak louder than words. you know how cats tend to hover around pregnant women and even lay themselves near their bulging bellies? that's right.

no, you will not be having alcohol. no, your spouse will not be having alcohol. no, all the people within five hundred meters radius from you will not be having any single drop of alcohol. she won't allow those boozehounds to get close to you.

she’s so amazed at how your stomach keeps growing bigger every time you visit her. when you give her your permission, she’ll curiously poke and stare at your bump. her hand will gently pat your tummy as she unconsciously smiles. she starts to seek you out more often after that, telling you that she’s just there in case you need help, but you know she’s just worried about you. she would be such a good big sister to your baby!

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @niverine | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @clovcly | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades

[nanaslutt]

YOUR DRABBLES GIVE ME LIFE AHAGDJSH if you ever write about virgin gojo somehow being really good even on his first time i might lose it !!!!!!!

THANK YEEWWW NONNIE<3333

virgin gojo is very special to me i will HAPPILY expand on this idea, ty sm for the ask~

contains: fem reader, dirty talk<3, virgin!gojo, established relationship, choking, size kink if you squint, two seconds of plot for context

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

before getting into a relationship with gojo you thought he was arrogant, albeit for good reason but he was always so confident and snarky, it drove you insane

the way he would flirt with the cashier at the coffee shop when he took his students out for a break, never failing to fluster them

you’ve seen the way he teases his opponents and coworkers alike

there’s no way that a man with no sexual experience who speaks like he’s trying to seduce you constantly, has never got his dick wet

even hearing yaga say something about how he wears his glasses when he meets with women, so of course you thought he had some experience under his belt (literally)

so it’s safe to say you were a little shocked when you were straddling gojos hips, steadily rocking back and forth on his growing bulge, reaching between the two of you for his belt when one of his hands left your hip and gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks mumbling against your lips “slow down baby, never done this before”

it’s not like he consciously tried to stay a virgin for most of his life,

being the strongest he doesn’t exactly have time to relax all that often, so before he knew it he was twenty seven and still, had never had sex

you two have been together for a couple months, you’ve had your fair share of partners, but working at jujutsu tech yourself, you and gojo didn’t have a ton of private time for things like this

sure he’s pulled you into a janitors closet once or twice to slide his knee between your legs and sloppily make out with you till you lost your breath (only adding to the illusion that he’s done this before)

coming to the realization one day that you two haven’t gone much further than that, and wanting to feel closer to him you invited him over to your place after work,

so here you currently were

pulling back from kissing him you looked into his crystalline eyes with an unreadable expression, the gears turning in your mind

memories of him saying sentences straight out of porn when he was kissing you, the way he always knew the spots on your body to caress to make you melt into him

and what did he just say? 𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦???

“did i break you baby? heh, sorry i never told you it’s a little embarrassing” he looks away for a second, rubbing his big hand over the back of his head before placing both hands back on your hips, caressing the skin there, “jus saw were things are headin n thought i would let you know.”

this didn’t make any sense to you, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it but you had to say something, “that’s- but you’re- you- how-“ okay, not exactly what you wanted to say but it made him giggle

“‘s that a problem princess?,” caressing your legs up up up, sliding his lithe fingers under the hem of your shirt and teasing the soft skin of your tummy, he snapped you out of your daze,

“sorry, ‘s not a problem, really satoru, jus had my own assumptions about you, but this doesn’t make me want you any less” you succeeded in forming a coherent sentence, squirming and squeezing around his legs as he stimulates your body, “good to hear baby, ur gonna have to show me what to do right? how to fuck you n make you feel good?,” his teasing voice returns

it was the truth, gojo being a virgin weirdly make you feel hotter, being the first one the worlds strongest sourcerer will be inside of filled you with a sense of pride, “jus sit back baby, let me do all the work.” a wave of confidence filled your chest and he returns his own sinister looking smile

“𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬” you said. so how did you end up here? currently face down, ass up with gojo’s girthy cock splitting you in two as he gives you the most devious backshots, his long middle and index fingers rubbing your own juices all over your clit, adding to the already intense stimulation you were feeling

“fu-ck ‘s-toru-uuu” words getting cut in half as he gives you deep, heavy thrusts, “cant believe ive been missing out on 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴” he punctuates with a hard thrust, knocking the wind out of your chest

“though you d-didnt kn-ow what to d-ooo,” you were trying and failing to speak in an intelligible way, “am i doin a good job?,” he giggles, biting his lip at he looks down at the thick ring of cum you’re leaving at the base of his cock

“so good ‘toru, fuckin me s-so so good.” you turned your head to look at him to the best of your ability, feeling slight better as his words might’ve seen composed but his face and chest were flushed the prettiest shade of red, his chest heaving like he just ran a marathon

“yeah? fuckin ur pussy that good? tell me more baby, tell me how good ‘m makin you feel,” not suprised gojos love of praise transferred into the bedroom, you indulged him

“dick ‘s so big toru,” you cried out, “feel you in my tummy,” your jaw dropped as his cockhead kissed your cervix, making your eyes roll back in your head

“fucckkk,” he clenched his teeth together, leaning over you and pressing his sweaty chest to your back, reaching his big palm for your face as he crashes your lips together, a kiss full of need

how the fuck was he a virgin? no one has ever gotten you this close, this fast

he pushes his tongue into your mouth, fingers spelling his name messily on your clit, cock fucking your gspot like he has a personal vendetta against you

“‘m gunna cum pretty, u close? huh? tell me ur close, gotta feel you cum on me first.” his filthy words has the coil in ur belly tightening steadily, “wan u to choke me ‘toru please.” you manage to get out, right on the edge of your orgasm

“i got you baby,” he wraps his massive hand over your throat, almost completely enveloping it, and he squeezes at the perfect strength, coil in ur tummy snapping as your pussy pulses and swueezed round his pretty cock

“oh god, he pulls back from the kiss and whines, thrusts becoming erratic, loosing his pace, “squeezin so tight, haaa-“ his jaw is completely slack, eyes screwed shut before his orgasm follows, right behind you

“yesss give it to me toru,” you smile against his slack jaw, and he’s never sounded as pretty as he does right now, cumming so hard, fucking his come as deep as he can into you, some spilling out around his dick as his large figure collapses onto your back

“toru…ur fuckin heavy.” strength in your arms completely gone as you try and fail to wiggle him off you, realizing that the strength in the rest of your body has completely abandoned you as well

“js… jus- gimmie a second, please,” all teasing in his voice completely gone, he’s still inside you and you feel his cock twitch every so often as his breath hitches against your neck

you let his weight press down on you for a couple seconds, letting him regain his own strength

“never cum that hard in my life, think i just died for a second.” he says, lifting himself off of you and sliding his softening cock covered in your combined cum, out of you

you wince at how sensitive you are, groaning as he wipes you down with his discarded shirt, “sorry heh, got a little carried away,” he giggles at your protests

coming up on your side and wrapping his arms around your figure, burring his face into your neck, peppering kisses there

“soo,” he purses his lips, lifting his head a bit to get a good view of your face, “any feedback?”

“cant feel my body, you virgin freak.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around the ones encasing yourself, “how did you just fuck me an inch from my life and you’ve really never had sex before??” you ask your boyfriend in disbelief

“porn :p” he cheeses into ur neck

“i’m gonna forget you said that.”

[backwardsbread]

Hazbin Hotel:

Human!Alastor x Housewife!Reader

~Understanding Asexuality~

Warnings‼️- Established relationship, angst to fluff, mentions of pregnancy, fem!reader, maybe OOC Alastor??, mentions of cannibalism but only for like one sentence.

Setting is Alastor’s time period, 1900-1930s.

A/N: I hope I did Alastor’s character justice! He might be slightly out of character?? I can’t imagine him actually getting in a relationship, I mean man is literally a serial killer- so I tried- ENJOY

~I would also like to say, I am not asexual or aromatic myself. This is just my take on Alastor’s sexuality/how he handles it. If I made any mistakes, please correct me but I tried to be as respectful as possible. I tried to do some research on the history of asexuality during the time period, but remember I am not perfect and this is a FAKE scenario with a FICTIONAL character.~

You like to think you know your husband like the back of your hand.

The two of you got married young, falling hard for the young radio host was easy. Many other maidens had, their affections for Alastor painfully obvious. All the while Alastor had no plans on perusing any of the women who fancied him. He was love blind, not really understanding the amount of people attracted to him, or why they were.

What wasn’t to like? He was an attractive young man, charming, and a true gentleman. But the idea of settling down, having to commit himself to one individual the rest of his life, didn’t appeal to him.

Especially with how tainted his brain was with his little hobbies.

He never got the special feeling everyone spoke about. Butterflies, increased heart palpitations, sweaty palms. The mere thought of it was enough to have his face contorting in mild disgust.

That opinion didn’t change when he met you. There was no ‘love at first sight’ feeling for him. You were polite and put together and that was something Alastor could appreciate. He didn’t quite understand your advances towards him. Seeing your interest towards him as friendly banter, while you saw his reactions to it as rejection.

You accepted his dismissal of your feelings, knowing you had given it your best shot. It didn’t stop Alastor from adoring your company. Whether it be on the dance floor or attending the diner you worked at. You were an incredible friend to him, nothing more.

Safe to say, Alastor didn’t suddenly catch feelings for you. There was no sudden change in his feelings.

But there were whispers

Unwanted Attention being brought on Alastor.

Gossip was high. Many mouths questioning Alastor’s true intent with you. Why was he always along side such a pretty thing without courting her? Were the two of you involved in secret affairs?

The theories grew, and while Alastor loved the attention being a radio host brought him, gossip was bad if he needed to keep his personal life under wraps. Besides, what kind of gentleman would he be if he let others tarnish your good name? Getting with you was more of an effort to fit into norms rather than it being for ‘true love’.

Slowly he showed signs of affection towards you. Holding your hand in public, taking you on more proper dates, even kissing your cheek once or twice when he saw hushed whispers from nearby crowds. The affection was sudden, but not unwelcome to you. Your feelings had never truly gone away for the radio host, and you pinned his original rejections on him being shy.

It wasn’t long after his advances he asked your official partnership. To be frank, you were easy and Alastor needed a cover. His true intentions were cruel, but you were blindsided by your longtime crush and friend being interested in you.

But you weren’t completely naïve.

While yes, you loved Alastor with all your heart, you knew in the back of your mind he had ulterior motivations. Every chaste kiss, every hand hold, every hug, felt rushed and nervous. Your whole relationship with Alastor felt fast paced, as only a few months after having the gall to ask you out, he was asking you to marry him.

It felt forced.

The feeling you tried to ignore, hoping it was just your insecurities causing the sinking feeling in your gut. You of course said yes to Alastor’s proposal. Knowing deep down you loved him and should not question if he did so in return.

Before you knew it, you were dressed in white in front friends and family, listening to wedding bells chime gleefully.

You could recall joyous laughter and dancing, talking about your soon future with the radio host whose last name you had now shared. Sharing drinks with friends to celebrate you ‘winning’ over Alastor. It all moved so fast yet you were happy with the results.

Alastor couldn’t have agreed more considering the chatter about the two of you had died down ever since his proposal. (Besides a few heartbroken maidens who heard the handsome host was officially off the market) Less eyes were on him which was good for the estranged hobbies he would indulge in.

You and Alastor moved in together and it felt like smooth sailing.

Until the next thing people expected from the two of you. That of course being children.

Alastor and you would constantly hear all about the subject from your mother, who was desperate to have some grandkids running around. At the mention of children you felt flustered and embarrassed, considering you and Alastor had yet to be intimate with one another.

It was through the subject, however, that sinking feeling returned. As your mother rambled on about grandchildren, you occasionally piped in with your own opinion. When your husband realized having children was something you actually wanted, you caught him grimacing at the idea.

The look he gave made your heart feel heavy in your chest. The sinking only worsened when he begrudgingly agreed with your mother, saying how the two of you would provide her with grandchildren with time.

Forced.

You felt guilty. You knew Alastor was lying with his words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to seduce your husband before. It was actually something you expected to happen and for the radio host to initiate.

Alastor would be lying if he said he didn’t start to feel genuine fondness towards you. You knew him well, better than any other friend he had.

You knew his schedule, his habits, his preferences. It scared him how much you could read his mind like a book. All the reason more to keep you sheltered away from how cruel of a man he truly was.

You were simply too good for him. Too innocent.

But when it came to intimacy, the radio host showed absolutely no interest. Coming up with one excuse after another to not be intimate with you. His rejection left you feeling unwanted and almost abandoned. Your own husband didn’t seem to enjoy your affections and it hurt your heart. You started to question if you were the cause of his discomfort. Was he just not attracted to you? Were you being too pushy?

Your mind even wandered to the late nights Alastor would stay out. Was he seeing someone else, perhaps? He could have anyone he wanted really, despite your marriage, there were many women who would still flirt with him. Had one caught his eye that he favored over you?

Anxiety and insecurity riddled your body for a long time before you started to search for possible answers. After work, you would head to a library of the outskirts of town. You didn’t want anyone you knew possibly catching you wildly scanning through books for possible answers.

The library didn’t provide much comfort. You found unsatisfactory answers, many of which ended in advice on how to ‘properly seduce a man’.

You didn’t want to force your husband to be intimate with you. Making desperate attempts that would ultimately be denied as they had been in the past.

You dug a little deeper, with a lot of the same results. You were just at your wits end with all the repetitive failure to find anything that felt right. However, one article caught your eye. A book that had dusted over from the lack of acknowledgment. Out of luck you reached for it, hoping to find any answers. Reading through the contents, it opened a whole new world of terminology and knowledge about a community you didn’t know existed.

You found comfort knowing there were possibly other people like your husband. That his rejections could possibly be the cause of something else other than you. You decided to take the article home with you, along with a few others, to read into it more at home.

————————————————————————

Through your research, you had started to understand your husband’s behavior more and more. You wouldn’t truly know the answers unless you had simply asked him, but at the same time, it felt better to consider this an option than to believe something was wrong with your marriage.

There were other people who exhibited traits your husband showed when it came to intimacy. Those who didn’t enjoy such pleasures or desires. It was a spectrum, one that you had never heard of. But it all made sense the more you read into different people’s experiences.

Some people’s stories you read stated how intimacy rarely crossed their mind. Before, you had only heard stories of friends being hyper sexual, with high sex drive that would oftentimes cause high gossip. It made sense that there were bound to be people at the other end of the stick, who felt the opposite. Of course they could acknowledge it was a thing. However the need/want to experience such things would rarely and sometimes never spark. It didn’t make these people strange or less human, it was simply how they felt.

You hear the door swing open, interrupting your thoughts. You swear to yourself silently, hurrying to close the books and articles you were reading up on. You shove the disorganized papers into the large book, then shove it underneath the table, out of view. You stand, brushing off your dress, and quickly go over to the stove.

“Hi honey! You’re home early.” You shout across the house to your husband. You grab your apron, messily tying the back of it.

“Oh I finished up early today, thought you would enjoy the surprise.” Alastor’s voice responds, his footsteps approaching the kitchen.

Grabbing a pot, you fill it with water as Alastor enters the room. He approaches you, putting a finger under your chin and bringing you closer. He gives your cheek a small peck, his fingers barely grazing your hip.

Forced.

You smile towards your lover, setting the full pot over the unlit stovetop. Adrenaline runs through your veins as you watch Alastor go and sit at the table. You clear your throat, avoiding looking at your husband. You open up the cabinets, looking around for ingredients to start on supper.

“How was your day, love?” You ask, trying to be as casual as you could. Alastor caught on to your anxiety, but decided to ignore it. He hummed, adjusting his glasses on his face.

“As normal as any other, dear. There was actually quite the crazy story, today about-..” Alastor went on about his radio show and the topics he had covered. You nod occasionally to show you could hear him, but his words didn’t really process in your head. You couldn’t focus with you heart drumming in your ears. Pulling out random ingredients from the cabinets, trying to think of anything to make for dinner, Alastor continues to speak. His voice a source of comfort despite him unknowingly being the cause of your anxious behavior.

“..they apparently continued their actions anyway! Don’t these men have any class? I swear to you the nerve of… some.. folk..” You tuned back into Alastor’s rambling just as he hear him start to trail off. You hear his seat pull back, making a creaking noise as he leans back and looks under the table. Feeling his gaze on you for a moment, you don’t dare to look back at your husband. He had seen what you tried to poorly hide.

Alastor leans down, grabbing the book with articles sticking out of the side. He hums, opening the book a skimming over the contents of what he found.

“Darling, what’s all this?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing as he read through the article. Tensing at his tone, you avoid looking towards him and keep quiet. Your mind racing almost as fast as your heart. Your voice was caught in your throat, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse.

It takes a moment to gain your composure. Eventually you speak, after clearing your throat in an attempt to get rid of the lump stuck there.

“I was just.. doing some reading.. on uhm..” Gosh, this was embarrassing to admit. Your face flushes to pink as you continue, “I just had some concerns.. I suppose I was feeling a bit insecure about our relationship-..”

“Our relationship?” Alastor questions, staring daggers into your back. His tone showing signs of irritation and discomfort. You turn towards your husband. There was no hiding how you felt now. You couldn’t lie to him when he had the evidence in his hands.

“I.. suppose I was worried.. for my own selfish reasons. I got to wondering why you didn’t seem attracted.. to me.” Alastor glares slightly at your words, drumming his fingers against the table. He knew exactly what you meant with your words, his nose instinctively cringing up in mild disgust. He opens his mouth to speak again, but is cut off quickly by you.

“I know it’s something silly to be concerned about, it shouldn’t be a concern at all. I shouldn’t have questioned you. Dare I say it was wrong of me.” You quickly tried to explain to ease your husbands silent anger.

Alastor stayed quiet, teeth gritting as his all too fake smile cracked at the seems. He felt on edge. He couldn’t have you questioning him like this, opening him up and making him vulnerable. You made him question how well he was really hiding his true identity. You could tap in to what he was feeling and it irked him. He cleared his throat, interwining his fingers together to create a cradle for his chin to sit.

“I don’t see how your concerns are important, dear. Our relationship is fine without such activities. Do you not believe that to be true? I love you, do I not?” Alastor asked, a small smile plastered on his face.

Forced

“Do you?” You find yourself asking before you can process the question yourself. Alastor’s wide eyes make you replay your words. You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. What were you thinking??

Both you and your husband stay quiet for a period of time, staring at each other with wide eyes. Alastor breaks his gaze, looking towards the wallpaper design in the kitchen that suddenly interested him. Your voice catches in your throat. It felt like you couldn’t speak for what felt like forever. Heavy weight on your chest when you uttered the question you’d been keeping inside since you said your I do’s.

Taking a breath to regain yourself, you look towards the stove. Scattered abandoned ingredients of what dinner was supposed to be left there. You glance towards Alastor, voice barely a whisper as you speak to him.

“I understand..” Your muttered voice doesn’t reach him, causing him to look at you and turn his head. You see him in your peripheral vision, then repeat yourself;

“I understand if you don’t.. or if you don’t want to partake in any.. intimate actions with me..” You start, grabbing a potato that had been abandoned on the counter. You start to rinse it under the sink water.

“From what I’ve read, you’re not alone. There apparently are men and women alike who don’t share an interest for sexual acts and behaviors. You’re not the only one..”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.. I’m not trying.. to make you feel bad. I just wanted to understand.. and I do. Please let me.”

Alastor stares at you while you speak. His silence feels like rejection. The same rejection you felt when you had first met him, but this was worse. Your heart ached, your chest felt tight, and your eyes felt like they were drowning in welled up tears.

You loved Alastor.

But never would you force him to return it.

You hear your husband stand from his place at the table, slow steps walking towards you. You feel his presence behind you. You silently prepare yourself for an onslaught of ‘how dare you’s and ‘who do you think you are’s.

Instead you feel warm hands hook underneath your arms, pulling you back towards Alastor’s body. Your body tenses, as you drop the vegetable you were once washing into the sink. Alastor leaned forward, resting his nose in the crook of your neck. Leaning down and hugging you tight.

Flood gates open as soft tears spill down your flushed cheeks. You gently hold onto Alastor’s arm with one hand, trying to stay perfectly still as if your husband were a stray animal. As if you move, he’d flinch away.

Alastor pulls away from your neck, looking at your face. His hand reaches up, standing straight, as he caresses one of your cheeks. He smears the tears across your cheek in an attempt to wipe them away, before leaning into you. Breath hitting yours before his lips meet yours.

Authentic

You’d never felt such a gentle and loving kiss from your husband. It felt so genuine and kind. You kiss back weakly, only hoping to make him feel the warm feeling he gave you.

Alastor never truly did understand his admiration for you. He never regretted marrying you. Of course you were always a good friend for him, one that he would work hard to keep safe. To keep you hidden away from who he was. Your happiness was always in the back of his mind as an essential. Sure he hated how you read him so easily, like it was second nature. But he hated it because if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be safe.

He hated it because a part of him did love you.

Pulling away from the kiss, Alastor keeps you close to him, watching more soft tears fall down your face. He brings his other hand up, letting you face him while he grabs out a handkerchief from his pocket. Gently dabbing away the tears on your face, he looks at you with such soft eyes. Such genuine eyes.

“Thank you.” Is all he says. It wasn’t a satisfying answer. You wanted more than anything a long list of answers to all your worries.

But invisible weight lifts off your shoulders. Closing your eyes and letting out a breath that felt much deserved to let go. It was a solution, an answer no matter how much it truly did explain. You had made an effort to understand your husband, when most would force their ways through the barriers he set around himself. That was something Alastor could appreciate.

He never understood why you took the time in your life to be patient. Be understanding. How an angel like you ended up with the demon he was.

But he hoped you wouldn’t regret it just the way he never regretted you.

——————————BONUS———————————

“…and I told her, if she ever had a problem with him again, take it up with me! And just like that, her husband was on a platter! Such a shame, his body was almost as disgusting as his behavior!”

Alastor sipped his tea as he listened to Rosie ramble. He never broke his gaze away from her, hanging on to every word she had to say. He delicately set down his cup on the porcelain saucer. Everything about Rosie.. her charm, her personality, her humor.

It all lead back to the thought of you. Someone he admired and felt comfortable with.

“Are you alright, Al? You’re kinda gawking over there..” Rosie asked, practically seeing the gears turning in Alastor’s head. Alastor blinked out of his thoughts, watching Rosie give a smile at him and tilt her head.

“I’m fine, dear, it’s just..” Alastor glanced to the side, his signature smile softening into something genuine. “You remind me of someone.” He explained quietly.

The mention raised Rosie’s interest, ready for any gossip Alastor had to spill. She leaned in close, grinning ear to ear. “Ooo! Don’t be shy, who do I remind ya of?”

Alastor looked at Rosie and he could’ve sworn that in her midnight eyes, he could see yours. Staring back at him through his soul. How could he describe you? Someone who just knew him despite how hard he tried to hide. Someone who acknowledged him over and over again despite his own uncertainties.

“She was the dearest darling to ever grace the earth.” Alastor found himself muttering. Rosie melted at the compliment he not only gave you, but her as well. She saw genuine adoration in the radio demons eyes when he spoke of you.

While what you had with Alastor wasn’t entirely real, he wouldn’t have exchanged your marriage for anything. After all, when everyone else didn’t and refused to.

You understood.

[sasayego]

exes

prompt — dick grayson has a lot of exes. you don't want to be one of them.

tags —  just overall softness after a period of inactivity <3

you've seen them before. there's kory. she's tall and pretty with green eyes and golden skin and curly red hair that turns into literal fire. she's six foot tall and looks like a damn super model with her six pack and toned arms.

she's sweet and kind and understanding and forward. she's gentle with everybody, and treats everyone the same. she's a literal goddess, and you're sure that he would've chosen her as his future wife.

there's babs. now, if you didn't think he'd fall for kory, he would've definitely spent his entire life with her. how could he not? childhood best friends who've known each other since they could crawl. they've been out in crime together. you opt to stay in and not risk your life, and pray that he comes home safe every night.

she's got flaming red hair. she's not as tall as kory, but she's plenty tall enough. she could be a supermodel if she wants. you're pretty sure she's the toughest person you know. you know she's been shot by the joker and paralyzed for several years, and she's still never lost faith in her ability.

dick's often joked about his red hair-girl kink, and when you self consciously look at your own hair, which isn't flaming red like the girls he's adored, he wraps his arms around you and says, "aw, honey! you not having red hair is just proof i love you for you!"

there's bea. you've seen her only once. when he was ric grayson, and still trying to figure out who he is, she was there for him. she's beautiful, blue locs and sharp intelligent black eyes. she's refused to see him after finding out who he is, and he grows soft when he remembers what happened both.

and the huntress. god, the amount of women that have fallen in love with him isn't fair. helena bertenelli is savage, tough, quick, ruthless. everything you want to be. all the women who have fallen in love with him are unique in their own wright, a modern masterpiece.

but he loves you.

and you're sure he does, because when he comes home from patrol, he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck to show you that he's here, he's real.

he does the dishes and the laundry even though he has vigilante duties that night. he kisses you and says "i love you" even when you argue. he never raises his voice.

when you're too tired to do things, he gives you cuddles, even if he deserves them more than you do. he holds your hand in public. he shields you from the invasion of paparazzi.

when you fight, he spends all night trying to figure it out. he makes sure you have date nights no matter what. he blushes when he speaks to you. he stumbles over his words sometimes. his pick up lines are so cheesy that they make your heart sore.

they're just exes. his past.

you're you. his future.

[itostea]

bllk boys with a shy!reader pt. 2 (rin, nagi, & oliver)

warnings: suggestive!! 

rin: 

I feel like Rin finds you really cute

you’re in the middle of eating some cookies and a few crumbs land on your cheek

rin sighs and wipes your cheek gingerly, making a few remarks here and there but most of his insults are half-hearted

but when he leans closer and cups your face you just completely malfunction 💀💀

no thoughts at all.

and he leans back to gauge your wide-eyed look and see how look of surprise paints your face

he can literally hear how loud is heartbeat from just seeing that

his thoughts are just “oh shit that’s cute” as he just stares at you with a blank-eyed look 

like i kid you not, he’s just stone-faced while his mind is just screaming at how cute you are

you have to say his name multiple times to grab his attention but all he does is just lean in and kiss you

the kiss gets more intense and you’re like why is he acting like this all of a sudden 😭😭

he just leans away after that and goes “sorry” then leans in for another kiss

yeah. idk. he’s very touchy in private

whenever you get nervous and hide behind him, he just gives your hand a squeeze and kisses the top of your head

the first time his team saw him do that, they went 😯😯😯

he’s so soft for you he doesn’t even care that they made fun of him for a month straight 

rin isn’t very verbal when he is, it is always worth it for the both of you

especially for him

the first time he said “i love you,” you completely exploded and couldn’t maintain a single conversation with him

it was so amusing to him that he couldn’t help but chuckle, the sight making you watch in awe

anyways… he finds you very cute, like seriously. He’d do anything for you 

nagi: 

I feel like he acts oblivious to how easily flustered you are just so he could tease the shit out of you

he does it so naturally too 😭😭

believe it or not, I 100% believe this man would make a bunch of dirty jokes just to get a reaction out of you

you’re just so meek when he says dirty things so forgive him!! 

one time you weren’t paying attention to him because you were reading a book and he just took it away from you, watching as you jumped on your feet to try to reach it

“Sei just give it to me already!”

“Huh? Hmm maybe tonight.”

he said that so casually that you didn’t catch the innuendo until a few minutes later 

the moment you realized, he just shrugged and gave an amused smile 

“I didn’t say anything weird, pretty… you’re just dirty-minded” 

yeah… 💀💀

okay other than the dirty jokes and stuff… he’s understanding once you tell him that you’re pretty shy around people

he usually prefers being alone so he can empathize but he doesn’t push you to be more social

oh yeah prepare for surprise hugs 

let’s say you’re cooking up a snack or meal and all of a sudden, you find his arms circle your waist, his breath hitting your neck as he says “i’m home”

GOWNIRFQ2E[FP ?!

he’s also the type of guy to suddenly pick you up and put you on a table so he can rest on your lap

it's literally heaven for him.

he gets to see your flustered expression AND be at peace laying on your lap

so yeah.

get used to his displays of physical affection 💀💀💀💀

oliver:

oh man he’s going to love teasing you (in an affectionate way ofc)

he’s met his fair share of women and you’re the only one who’s actually tugged on his heart strings 

he thinks you’re the cutest! your meekness just brings him at ease

bro is a womanizer but he realized he had to settle down with you! like he’d be a fool not to

it happened when you were getting nervous going to a party and meeting new people 

he loves you but he was literally just admiring how good you looked in your dress 

you’re rambling and he’s just smiling because he loves when you’re open with him

but then you gaze at him with a bashful smile and say “but since you’re going i wanna go so…” 

he lowkey just stared before he was like “okay yeah i’m marrying you”

and you’re like “HUHHH????” while he’s like… “did i stutter? we’re getting married 🤨”

he’s just really soft around you

HOWEVER… like i stated before he’s gonna love teasing you

like ygs will be kissing on the couch with him hovering above you and he’ll lean in before he just stops, grinning at you coyly

you’d be sighing all meek and stuff, trying to lean closer but he just laughs 

“you gotta tell me what you want baby.” 

HE’S SUCH A TEASE UGH

and when you finally ask him to kiss you again, he goes in for a quick peck, leaning back up with a toothy grin

you’d stare at him and impulsively ask “that’s all?” and he’d just go “that’s all? what, you want more?” knowing damn well yes 😐😐😐

trying to pull him down doesn’t work either bc this man is REALLY jacked 

when he gets his fill with teasing you, he’ll just lean down and shush you with a kiss

and he makes sure it’s a kiss. the type of kiss where a hand slides down your waist while another cups your face. that kind of kiss 😩😩😩😩😩😩

once he pulls away and gauges your expression, seeing how you couldn’t even think straight and look and him, he just pats your cheek

“thought you wanted more?”

don’t take his teasing too seriously… he’s doing it bc he’s in love and that’s his love language 💀💀💀

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku NSFW Profile

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, dub-con, breeding, non-consensual touching, dry humping, masturbation, panty sniffing, a brief mention about virginity being sacred but no explicit mention of whether reader is a virgin or not, Kyojuro is a virgin tho so corruption kink kind of, pillow humping, coercion, allusions to lactation kink and pregnancy kink, choking, spitting, Kyo gets sex advice from Tengen, Kyo picks you up at one point but remember he's literally a Hashira and could pick anyone up no matter their weight, fem reader, MDNI

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

WC: 12K

HABITS:

In general, Kyojuro isn’t an incessantly horny man. Not only does he hold women in a high respect and doesn’t inherently sexualize them, but to be quite honest he simply doesn’t have time to be regularly indulging in sex or even masturbation. He’s a busy man, and when others are settled under their covers, either sleeping or moaning in another’s ear, he’s out in the dark, dangerous night hunting demons.

And so despite being in the sexual prime of his life, Kyojuro doesn’t have a huge amount of experience. He’s never considered actually touching a woman before, mostly because he didn’t feel the urge to and because he firmly believes in the idea of saving himself for his wife and life partner.

And even once you step into his life he doesn’t magically become some sex-crazed monster – eventually he is, sure, but it’s gradual. It takes a while to reach that stage, for him to both desire you enough and desire sex enough to be wasting his time fantasizing about you and your body.

Little seeds will be planted in his mind as the weeks and month pass, his obsession slowly developing and leaving him floundering when small, inappropriate thoughts begin seeping into the edges of his mind.

He’s noticing the way your kimono dips down just a bit one day – your collarbones are pretty, and he can’t help but have a fleeting thought of how soft the skin of your neck and shoulders must be.

(He’ll return home that night and try to forget that thought, going through an even more extensive training regime than normal, but even by the end of the some four hour session, he’s still imagining how the skin of your collarbones must taste.)

He’s suddenly noticing that your voice gets higher when you get flustered, the pitch raising just slightly, enough for him to notice and mentally file away for future reference.

(Would your voice get higher if he were to fluster you? How would you sound when he’s just kissed you, your lips swollen and your eyes dazed? How would you sound when he’s touching you, his hands settling at your waist or cupping your breasts, or perhaps even slowly, carefully dipping his fingers inside of you, feeling you tighten up and clench down and gasp and writhe and moan his name - )

He becomes acutely aware of the way you always seem to bend over to pick things up, your clumsiness coming into play as he finds himself unconsciously moving to stand so that he has an unobstructed view as you bend over, his eyes blatantly fixed on the curve of your ass, his lips slightly parted.

(He’s definitely thinking of that image later that night, one of his rare nights off, with his hand wrapped deathly tight around his cock as he imagines you bending over for him - perhaps over his dining table, or maybe even over his knee as he gropes and squeezes and plays with you.) 

The thoughts feel largely out of place initially, more often than not leaving him slightly dazed and confused because he’s never thought about how soft and smooth a woman’s thighs must be, nor about how your hands feel so small in comparison to his: less calloused and rough and warmer.

It’s strange, but as his delusions grow deeper and his feelings for you only intensify, Kyojuro finds himself rationalizing that it isn’t so disrespectful to be thinking this way – you’re practically already courting, and while you may not yet possess the Rengoku name, you will soon enough.

And once you’re wed?

Well, surely you must know what married couples do – pleasuring one another, loving one another, spending hours tangled in the sheets with gasps and cries ringing through their ears, sweat and kisses and cum covering every inch of their bodies. And if that’s your future – which he’s positive it is – then what’s the harm in imagining it?

He imagines all sorts of domestic scenarios with you, so why should it matter if the clothing is removed and your pretty smile is replaced with a pretty moan?

It’s fine – and so, while he still doesn’t wring himself dry to you every day, he’s sure to settle down and explicitly imagine being with you in an intimate way at least three times a week – even if that means unzipping the pants of his uniform with a demon’s blood still staining his hands, freshly killed and sending adrenaline through his veins.

(Adrenaline that then gets channeled into imagining the way you’d be so proud of him for outsmarting the demon and successfully eliminating it – perhaps you’d be so proud that you’d be willing to get on your knees for him, your soft lips wrapping around him and sucking, your little moans making his head spin and your nimble fingers kneading and groping at his balls. Ah yes, what a lovely thought…)

So while he’s not the most horny yandere of his comrades, he’s certainly no saint. But really, how could he be when you’re so damn alluring?

When it comes to actually touching himself, Kyojuro finds that his pleasure comes easiest when he’s actually doing the work, actually putting effort into getting himself off. It feels okay to simply pump his fist up and down, but it’s not enough – because being with you would be so much more overwhelming, even just your body heat alone making the experience ten times more powerful, more intense, more enjoyable.

He wants to immerse himself in the fantasy of actually having your soft body to kiss and touch and love, and he finds the best way to really achieve this is to fuck something rather than fucking his fist. But he’s a loyal man, and would sooner end his life than fall into the arms of another woman, even if only for a night.

And so, he compromises by fashioning a pillow – one with a covering of your favorite color, of course – into a substitute for yourself.

And while it feels good to have the pillow at all, Kyojuro finds that even just the simple pillow isn’t enough – it needs more, to be more representative of you, to just be better at convincing him that it’s really your wet, warm cunt he’s sinking into with every thrust rather than the dense plush of the pillow.

And so, with dark ink, he musters up every bit of artistic talent he possesses and carefully, oh so carefully draws in your features as much as he’s able to. He’s certainly no artist, but he’s slow and methodical with bringing to life this poor stand in for your own body – paying attention to every small detail, wanting everything to be as life-like as possible.

Your eyes are drawn on, correct down to the shape, even going so far as to try and ink on every eyelash, the flecks of color in your irises, any eye bags or wrinkles you may have.

He’s drawing your nose, the outline of jaw and neck, and, of course, your lips. He’s drawn them so that they’re permanently parted, leaving you looking like you’re gasping in pleasure, even going so far as to try and shade them so that they appear to be wet.

(Presumably with spit, or perhaps something a bit thicker, a bit hotter – it depends on the fantasy.)

The drawings continue down your body, making sure to outline your neck and shoulders, even down to your hands and fingers. (One hand is drawn with all your fingers curled and your thumb touching your index finger, so that a circular hole is made.)

He’s drawn your breasts, nipples, the swell of your tummy, your hips and thighs, even your calves and the arch of your ankles.

(He’s drawn you so that your thighs are spread slightly, giving him a view into what lies between – he’s not entirely sure of the technicalities of female anatomy, so he’s negating drawing any specifics and instead simply leaving the area blank, not willing to misrepresent your lovely, gorgeous figure – that’d feel disrespectful to you, as if the fact that he’s essentially created a sex doll in your image isn’t. He’s seen enough mothers breastfeeding children to have an idea of the upper half of a woman’s body, but he still shivers in excitement at learning how your upper body looks – though he thinks he has a good idea based upon how your clothing fits you, his eyes greedily observing the way the material is taut around your chest.)

Once everything is drawn, it’s easy to tear holes in the pillow – one between your legs, one in the curled circle of your hand, one between your pretty, parted lips.

Once he’s completed his work he'll eagerly, gingerly bring the pillow to his bed, gulping excitedly and immediately stripping off his clothing. His cock is already rock hard, swollen and pressing against his lower stomach, the tip a bright red and shining in the firelight of the room, precum soaking the skin.

He’d managed to get a guaranteed night off-duty this evening, which means there won’t be a single interruption. He’ll set the pillow down flat, excitement already licking at his every muscle, the room feeling incredibly hot already. He’s quick to settle himself above the pillow, his weight resting on both knees and his forearm that’s pressed against the ground. His free hand comes up to lightly trace at the drawn-on curve of your jaw, his face mere inches from where he imagines yours to be.

My flame, you are so beautiful… He’ll tell you, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips.

His cock twitches as he leans down to softly press his lips against your drawn ones, the kiss soft and slow and meaningful, the Hashira pouring every ounce of affection he feels for you into the action.

He imagines you kissing back; would you be hesitant, embarrassed and shy? Or would you be just as eager, perhaps wrapping your arms around his neck and running your hands through his hair, maybe even pulling on it, biting his lip and letting him know how badly you need him?

He groans, his eyes closed, lips working harder against the pillow, his tongue coming out to dart against the hole cut out, imagining your own tongue tangling with his. His hand wanders down from your jaw to your breast, fingers groping and squeezing at nothing but cotton, but the motion alone has his hips bucking, cock brushing slightly against the pillow. It makes him hiss, pulling back from the kiss and licking his lips, his eyes already half lidded and dazed.

Forgive me, I can’t wait any longer, I must be inside you.

His voice is breathless, and as he shimmeys upwards slightly, he’s spreading his legs a bit, thighs flexing as he leans back, audible inhaling as he nudges his tip against the hole between your drawn on legs, already smearing precum against the material from just a bit of contact.

His fingers are trembling slightly as he pushes in inch by inch, going slowly just like he would if it was really you, wanting to make sure you adjust to him and he feels good, so that you’ll be ready for him to absolutely ravish you.

He’s groaning as he bottoms out, balls pressed tightly against the pillow, his chest heaving as he stares wildly at your drawn on face. You feel – you feel amazing, my flame, oh –

He presses his forehead against yours as he slowly pulls back, the muscles of his ass and lower back going taut, before sinking in slowly again, an uneven sigh of your name slipping past his lips.

You feel so tight around me, does it feel good? Does it feel good to have me inside you?

Just the phrasing of that makes his head spin, the idea that he’s inside of you (even if he’s really not) making his hips snap to life, his previously slow pace picking up quickly.

He’s panting already, all the breathing control he’s mastered flying out the window because this is different – it’s your body underneath him, your pretty pussy sucking him in over and over and over, your moans ringing in his ears as you cry out his name again and again.

Kyojuro Kyojuro Kyojuro, please it feels so good!

He’s imagining the way you’d moan his name, how your voice would get so breathy, your fingers raking down his back, your legs wrapping around his hips.

He groans your name again, hips snapping into yours hard enough to push the pillow up with every thrust, his mind running wild as he imagines how your breasts would bounce at the force, practically begging to be squeezed and sucked at. A hand comes up and begins groping at nothing again, his thumb brushing over where he’s drawn on your nipple, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the pleasure begins mounting.

It just feels too damn good – it’s so easy to imagine you below him, crying out his name as he fucks you hard enough to leave you utterly destroyed, your perfect little cunt massaging him in just the right ways.

He’s chanting your name under his breath, his eyes wide and staring down at your inked face, his voice getting faster and more strained as his muscles start clenching, his balls tightening and his hips stuttering and his heart racing because oh god oh fuck oh fuck –

He’s pulling out at the last minute, cum spurting all over the pillowcase, his moans of your name filling the room as his hand quickly tugs, wrist twisting and moving so fast it’s nearly a blur. The pleasure is immense, leaving his toes curling and every hair on his body standing up straight, feeling as if fire is running through his veins.

After the last few sad spurts dribble from his oversensitive, swollen tip, he’s left gasping, swallowing hard and letting a broad grin slip across his face. With still heavy breaths, he pushes back any stray hair from his forehead, the bit of sweat gathered there leaving him sighing. He’s quick to lean down, pressing a soft, long kiss against your drawn-on lips, a whispered I love you murmured against the pillow.

He has to swallow hard as he pulls back, euphoria still swimming in his veins at the intensity of his orgasm. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you is nearly too much - it leaves him breathless, feeling a high that doesn’t fade for hours after, and as he lays down beside the pillow, still stained with cum as he pulls it against his chest, imagining spooning you, he can’t help but shiver.

Because if it feels this good to simply imagine, how would the real you feel?

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your thighs

In general, Kyojuro thinks you’re absolutely beautiful.

He finds you to be the single most attractive woman on Earth, and even if he’s never seen your body in anything more form fitting than a kimono or a slayer uniform, he’s absolutely sure that whatever awaits him beneath the cloth will be heaven, the thing of wet dreams.

And the moment he finally, finally has you bare below him, your pretty skin on display and waiting to be kissed, fondled, marked as his, he finds that he’s not disappointed in any way.

You’re gorgeous – and, naturally, the most gorgeous part of you is your thighs. There’s something about the sight of them that gets him swallowing hard, his eyes growing a bit brighter and wider.

His palms get a bit sweatier when he sees the way they splay out when you sit down, the fat jiggling with every step you take, the way they just look so touchable and squeezable. He nearly has a full body reaction the moment your thighs are out on display, his body temperature rising to extreme heights and his attention straining to stay on you rather than your pretty legs.

Even in settings where soft, loving affection is occurring, he's still eyeing them, appreciating the way you look in his clothing, the simple overshirt you’d put on that morning stopping mid thigh and leaving very little of your upper legs to the imagination.

 (You’ll notice the way his fingers slowly creep down from your waist, moving inch by inch until they’re finally laying over the curve of your thigh, idly rubbing and pressing into the warm flesh, marveling at just how soft you are.)

And when you’re both intimate with one another, his enjoyment of your thighs will be more than apparent – he’s always touching them, his hand coming down to squeeze and stay there, almost latching onto you as he throws your leg over his shoulder, his hips never stopping the brutal pace he’s established.

Every position he fucks you in involves your thighs somehow – he’s forcing you to wrap them around his hips when he's hovering above you and pressing down on you so tightly you’re only able to breath in him.

When he’s folded you into the deepest mating press possible, he’s holding you in position by pressing directly against the back of your thighs rather than your knees, often leaving fingertip shaped bruises there from the sheer force and strength he has to keep at bay every time he slips inside you.

Even when he’s fucking you from behind, your pretty ass on display as he sinks so deeply into you that it drives him crazy, he’s making sure to line his own thighs up to press against yours, relishing in the way his balls clap against your clit and the soft, plush fat of your upper inner thighs.

He’s paying extra attention to nip and tease you when he’s got his head between your legs, sucking hickeys and pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he slowly trails up from the inside of your knees.

He wants you to cage in his head when you’re nearing your orgasm, to squeeze as tightly as possible while he licks and moans and thrusts his tongue into you, the only thing he can see and taste and feel and hear being you you you.

Even when you’ve got your lips wrapped around his cock, his eyes are fixated on the way your thighs look splayed out while you kneel on them, his hips bucking as he zones out slightly, the pleasurable feeling of your mouth making him moan and struggle to maintain his composure.

He just really, really likes that area of your body, and while there’s certainly no part of you that he doesn’t like, his penchant for touching you there and always having a hand on your thigh will be very, very apparent to you.

So if you want to tease him, to see the way his eyes darken a bit and his smile grows a bit sinister, sit down with your legs slightly spread, stare at him with those pretty, pouty eyes of yours, and tell him that you’ve been feeling sore, will you please give me a massage, Kyo? I miss your touch…

You’ll have trouble walking the next day, and the littering of bruises, hickeys, and bite marks against your thighs will serve as proud trophies for Kyojuro, who will insist you not cover them up.

His mouth

In the context of sex, Kyojuro lives to please. He’s being completely honest when he firmly tells you that your pleasure is his, because he really does feel that way.

When you touch him it makes his head spin and his hips involuntarily buck, but when he touches you?

Well, more often than not he’s coming alongside you when he’s fingering you, that telltale groan of o-oh and the wet warmth you’ll feel against your skin letting you know exactly how watching you fall apart is affecting him. And similarly, he gets very, very into it when he’s got his mouth working at you, his talented tongue drawing tight circles over your clit and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs.

Every sexual encounter with Kyojuro will involve him eating you out in some capacity, both because he wants you to feel good, and also because he genuinely enjoys the taste of you and the feel of you against his tongue.

And he’s good at it too – he starts off slow, teasing you with playful nipping and smiles against your skin, his eyes looking up at you the whole time, forcing you to keep eye contact because he wants you to see how he pleasures you, for you to see how right he looks between your legs.

He’ll ghost around where you really need him for a while, making sure to pepper kisses at the juncture between your pelvis and thigh, the area right above your clit, even your lower tummy and hips.

He’ll kitten lick at your folds, humming against your skin and letting the vibrations send shivers up your spine, his tongue dipping just a bit deeper each time, until he’s using his thumbs to physically spread your lips, lewd slurping noises filling your ears as he licks and sucks, pleasure making you sigh his name.

After he’s sufficiently teases you, he’ll press a few more kisses to your thigh, then move upwards, still staring you in the eyes, before licking his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

He’ll tell you that he loves your body, my flame, especially this special spot that always makes you moan my name, before flicking his tongue along it, enjoying the way you jerk at the acute stimulation.

He’s perfected the art of keeping a steady, consistent pattern against you, making sure that the rhythm can let the pleasure build, a dull warmth spreading through your entire lower body.

Meanwhile, he’ll always slip a finger inside of you, curling and pressing against areas he knows you like, feeling the way your thighs twitch and your moans get louder.

He likes when you run your hands through his hair as he uses his mouth on you, especially if you lightly tug or pull; the pleasure tinged with slight pain makes him blindly hump at whatever is closest to him.

And he’ll always, always keep going until you’ve reached your high, even if that means spending hours between your legs; anything to feel the way your cunt flutters against his lips, how you gasp and practically wail his name, your thighs seizing up and your slick coating his chin and lips.

His eyes close as he eagerly laps it up, addicted to your taste – and as he pulls back, his lower face glistening with your arousal and spit, he’ll kiss you, pulling you into a passionate, tongue-heavy kiss.

Even outside of going down on you, Kyojuro finds ways to utilize his mouth in regards to you in every situation he can – he’s always pressing kisses against your lips, cheek, forehead, neck, and knuckles, liking the way that it flusters you and leaves you biting your lip.

He’s taking your hand in his and pressing kisses against your fingertips, singing your praises between presses of his lips, until he’s eventually slipping a finger into his mouth, holding your gaze as he sucks and runs his tongue up and down your skin, the intensity of the moment making you simultaneously aroused and uncomfortable.

He’ll even go so far as to share your toothbrush, just because he likes the idea of a little bit of him being in a little bit of you.

(You’re very aware of this, even without the whole toothbrush misfortune – his penchant for always, always finishing inside of you makes this abundantly clear.)

DRIVE:

Despite Kyojuro’s delusions about your relationship and how you feel for him, even he can’t misread the way you react so negatively to his mentions of being sexual with you. You always freeze up, eyes going wide, your head shaking no and your voice hurried as you tell him please, please no Kyojuro, I’m not – I’m not ready for that, please don’t!

 He’ll respect that, firmly nodding and tell you to not worry, my love, I can wait for as long as it takes!

He doesn’t really understand it, however, because in his mind there really shouldn’t be a reason why you aren’t ready – you’re his, and you know it.

 You’re living together (even if that wasn’t your choice) and you share a bed together when he’s home. You bath together (something that Kyojuro enjoys very, very much, his hands always wandering, his breath hot in your ear as he tells you that you’re beautiful, something hard pressing against you when he’s washing your hair), share a toothbrush, eat together and wear his clothing – you’re a couple, a partnership between a man and a woman, and wanting to express your love physically is a natural urge.

It’s normal and healthy, and something he wants so, so very badly to do with you. But he understands that perhaps you’re not comfortable with that level of intimacy quite yet – he’s aware of how society views women who’ve lost their virginity (he’d never explicitly asked you if you’ve touched another person, but he assumes you’ve saved yourself for him as he’s saved himself for you), and although you’d be giving it to the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with, he can respect that you might simply be afraid to lose something you’ve learned is cherished.

He’s disappointed by your rejection of sex, but he means it when he says he’ll wait for you to be ready and won’t force it upon you. That does not, however, mean that Kyojuro will completely abstain from interacting with you sexually. He just can’t help himself – sure, he may not be actively fucking you, but he finds other ways to placate the carnal desires practically begging him to rip off your clothing and press you against him while he makes you moan and writhe and fills you with him him him.

It starts small – he’s kissing you every chance he gets, letting them get longer and deeper, lasting sometimes minutes at a time while small moans and groans slip from his mouth into yours. His hand initially starts at your shoulder when he does this, but as time passes he gets bolder – it moves to your waist, your cheek, your hip, even over your ribcage right below your clothed breast, the edges of his fingers brushing against the underside of the pudge fat as moving up slowly, up until he pulls away from the kiss for air.

When kissing you becomes not enough, he moves to hugging you for longer periods of time, getting tighter and purposefully pressing parts of his body against you. He’s always been touchy, and you’ve been getting hugs for nearly as long as you’ve known him (even before his infatuation formed, back when his feelings for you were strictly platonic – now, though, they’re anything but).

But these hugs are different – he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you flush with his body, smiling at you with those wide, unsettling eyes while his breathing picks up ever so slightly, his pelvis pressed tightly against your own so that you can feel something – something warm, big, almost feeling like it’s moving against you, like it’s throbbing.

He’ll ask you to give him a pair of your panties when he leaves for missions, smiling so brightly and boyishly when you hesitantly deliver the piece of cloth to his outstretched palm, licking his lips and bringing the garment up to inhale deeply before stuffing it away into one of the many pockets of his Demon Corps uniform, telling you with a laugh to choose a pair that’s been used next time please, my flame.

(You never ask why he wants the underwear while he’s gone, simply because you think you know the answer already, but somehow hearing it from him would be worse, like confirming a truth you desperately wished to be false. Plus, you’re sure he’d tell you in extreme detail exactly how he uses them, too, perhaps even giving you a visual demonstration because he’s just so eager to interact with you, to feel your pretty eyes on him.)

It’s disturbing, but it’s a small comfort to know that he may be pushy and make you uncomfortable but he’ll never truly force you into sex. Kyojuro may be many things, but he’s at least a man of his word – even if he very, very badly wishes he wasn’t sometimes.

And so as wonderful as kissing you deeper and hugging you tighter and fucking his fist to your panties is, Kyojuro eventually decides that he needs more. He needs to get as close to actually fucking you as he can without being inside of you, just as he promised.

And so the perfect solution is really just that simple – running through the motions without violating your wishes. Kyojuro is ecstatic just thinking about – which is why, when the mood strikes him, his cock straining against his trousers and his fingers itching to reach out and touch, he’ll strip off his clothing, smiling at you and running his knuckles against your cheek while telling you to take your clothing off please, love, I want to make you feel good.

And really, as much as you don’t want to, it’s easier on both of you if you just do – your options are let him hump you like a dog, or be forced to touch him, your own hand wrapped around his cock as he moans and sighs and thrusts into your hand while telling you how good you look. And so, once your clothing is off, Kyojuro will look at you with those eyes, licking his lips slowly and walking up to you, pressing himself against you again and letting his hands sit firmly at your waist.

My flame, he’ll murmur to you, his voice low and his breath a bit hitched because his cock is pressed up against your thigh and god, even that touch alone is enough to make his knees feel weak. Lay down for me.

He’ll have you lay on your back, your legs spread for him and your arms over your head. He’ll stand for a while, simply staring at you, the sight of you in such a provocative position making his cheeks tinge pink and his throat feel a bit dry. But soon there’s too much precum dribbling from his tip to ignore, and he’ll climb over you, hovering over you and wrapping your leg around his waist, so that his face is mere inches from yours and his cock is pressed against your navel.

He’ll swallow, leaning down a bit to press his lips against yours, relishing in the warmth of your body pressed against his own. Kisses are pressed against the corner of your mouth, then down the length of your jaw, down your neck and finally to your shoulder, the movements slow and meaningful despite the near painful aching between his legs. His hips seem to move on their own, slowly rocking forward and backwards, the friction of his cock rubbing against your skin and against the tufts of hair making him hiss slightly.

His lips find purchase at your ear, deep sighs and heavy pants impossible to ignore as he slowly picks up his pace. The stimulation feels good, but it’s not enough for him - he has to move faster, harder, be better, because this is really a chance for him to show you exactly what you’re missing out on. This is his opportunity to show you that if he were to do this inside of you, it would feel so much better for you – it’s his opportunity to convince you that sex with him would feel good, that you’d be satisfied, that he could please you.

And he commits to that desire – one forearm is pressed against the bed right beside your head supporting his weight while the other wanders from your waist up to grope and squeeze at your breast, deft fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He’ll groan your name, leaning down to lick at your lips and tell you that you’re so very beautiful, his voice strained. He’ll bring the hand down to ghost over your stomach, right above where his cock is grinding and thrusting, moving to bury his nose against your neck while he chants your name. His voice is a bit slurred, the pleasure making his brows draw tightly together, his hips snapping and flexing harder and harder.

He’s close, and he tells you as much – muffled against your neck, his low groan of f-feels too good, you feel so good love…

 With his orgasm approaching, he resorts to kissing your neck again, his hair tickling you and the feeling of his cock dragging against your skin over and over making your toes curl involuntarily, because even as humiliating and uncomfortable as this is, isn’t there something oddly sexy about this big, strong man making himself a fool on you, losing him mind from just the feel of you?

He’s desperate for the pleasure he’s right on the brink of as he blindly reaches out to find your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours tightly, the moan that rises in the back of his throat high and uneven and raw. His whole body shakes as something warm and thick spurts against your stomach, a few drops landing on the undersides of your breasts, his breath heavy in your ear as he slowly, oh so slowly thrusts, riding out the last waves of his pleasure.

His hand is still gripping yours, and after a moment he pulls back and kisses you again, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and insistent, the red on his cheeks even more pronounced now.

It’s still not ideal, grinding and humping against you like this, but Kyojuro is content to do it as many times as it takes until you finally, finally feel ready to let him love you like you deserve, to let him make you gasp and cry out his name and gush around him until you’re too incoherent to even think.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

Kyojuro is very vocal in bed. He’s constantly talking to you – telling you how good you feel, telling you when something in particular feels best, warning you when his orgasm is dangerously near, just producing a constant stream of commentary as he fucks you. His voice is breathy the whole time, always turned up at the ends of his sentences because the pleasure is too strong, forcing him to slur his words together because fuck you feel good.

A lot of his vocalness stems from the fact that he’s just so excited to be intimate with you – he’s been fantasizing about this for a long time, long nights spent with his eyes closed and his cheeks a bit pink,

imagining the way you’d look underneath the pretty kimonos and clothing you wear.

He’s imagined what your face would look like when he’s cupping your breasts, thumbing at your nipples and making your brows twitch, biting your lip as you tell him to squeeze just a hair harder, pressing yourself against him because having his hands on you feel too good.

He’s imagined how your thighs would tremble when he’s got two fingers buried in your cunt, curling and scissoring and rubbing against your sensitive walls while you curl your toes and whine his name.

He’s even imagined the way your pussy would feel as he’s fucking you, how it would clench down on him hard, practically begging him to stay inside, begging for every last drop of cum he can possibly give.

He’s fantasized and daydreamed and imagined for months on end, each scenario only making him more anxious to finally have his hands on you, the buildup to actual intimacy with you leaving him wildly excited. And so, now that you’re finally with him, your perfect body warm and soft to the touch just as he knew you’d be, Kyojuro can’t help himself from telling you every little thing he’s thinking and feeling. He’s rambling on about how pretty you look when you’re underneath him, your body spread out for him and completely bare.

He’ll smile at you and kiss at every available inch of skin as his hands squeeze and knead at your sides, leaning back to admire the view of a flustered, bashful you underneath him all with a dreamy sigh and a small you’re so perfect, my flame, exactly as I imagined you’d be. And really, it would be sweet if it weren’t for the way he continues on to tell you exactly what he’d imagined, explicit details about how he'd fucked to his fist to the thought of you writhing below him, what pace he’d used, how he’d tightened up his grip to simulate how tight you’d grip him, even going so far as to tell you that this particular fantasy had him producing much more cum than normal when he eventually came.

It’s too much information and will leave you feeling disturbed and a bit scared, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to notice – he’s too deeply enthralled with the pleasure you’re giving him, the words seeing to slip off his tongue without him even realizing it as he thrusts into you with an almost inhuman speed.

But of course, even as lovely as it is to detail all of the fantasies he’s had of you, what you’ll most often get with him is praise. He generally thinks that you’re enchanting, viewing you as something perfect and lovely and so, so very wonderful, but when he’s intimate with you this perception of you only intensifies.

Every small burst of pleasure you give him only solidifies his infatuation with you, and he can’t stop himself from telling you how beautiful you look on your knees for him, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock and your eyes prickling with tears because he’s too big for you to take down your throat. He’ll just smile, hand cupping the back of your hand and slowly easing you down his length, biting his lip at the sight and sighing out that you’re doing so well, you feel so – so good, yes love oh, suck just like that, it feels amazing when you do that.

He’ll have you perched on his lap, tits bouncing in his face while his hands clutch at your hips and move you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and a moan of your name falling past his lips, small chants of yes yes yes and gasps of your name filling the air between you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit with his head buried between your thighs, a lithe finger working in and out of you as he moans appreciatively against you, your taste on his tongue forcing him to pull back a moment to lick a long, flat stripe against your folds, his chin and lips visibly glistening as you tells you that you taste so delicious, I can’t get enough of you, give me more please my flame, I need more of you.

And when you’re gushing around his fingers a few minutes later, desperately grabbing at the pillow under your head and his hair, Kyojuro can only brokenly groan, his own orgasm not far behind yours as he thrusts his hips against the floor. You’re just so pretty and perfect and wonderful, and how can he not tell you?

And after he’s emptied himself inside of you, he’ll curl you into his arms and hold you, breathing into your ear and telling you how good you did, how you did so well and made him feel so good. Kisses are pressed against the crown of your head while he does this, his compliments sounding so genuine and reverent that you’ll be equal parts flattered and uncomfortable because god, he really means it when he says you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, doesn’t he?

Kyojuro of course loves to be praised in turn – any positive comment from you is met with eager and wide eyes, his ministrations and motions only increasing, his desperation to please you and make you feel good nearly palpable. Your moans of his name and cries of yes and right there and please making something smug and warm swell in his chest, his obsession only deepening because you just look so right when you’re falling apart on his cock.

He lives to please you, so please praise him – he’ll return the favor with so much passion and vigor that you’ll almost be embarrassed for him at how high and whiny and lewd the groan he lets out when he spills inside you is.

Almost, because he’ll follow it up with heavy breaths and a stuttered that – that was for you, because of you, because you feel so fucking good.

Oral Fixation

There’s something about the taste of you that he simply can’t get enough of. Even before he stole you away, Kyojuro was quick to snatch any small item of yours that could potentially taste like you.

He managed to snag the small vial of lip balm he’s seen you use – the one that his eyes always get stuck on, watching the way you pucker and pop your lips, the smacking noises obscene and provocative and sexy. You’d left it on the table after a lunch he’d invited you to, and Kyojuro – ever the gentleman – had pocketed it with the intention to return it to you later. Only, he didn’t – it stayed in his pocket until later that night when he’d fished it out, carefully opened it, and pressed the nearly empty balm against his own lips, closing his eyes and sighing because oh, if he licks his lips now he’ll taste you…

He’s got a cloth he keeps in his pocket that’s reserved specifically for you – when you’re eating with him, going on outgoings that are strictly platonic to you but are anything but to him, he’ll use the cloth and wipe off bits of food sitting on your lips, some stray sauce on the corner of your mouth. The cloth is kept in his pocket until later, when his cock is bright red and swollen and drooling precum for you, his lip caught between his teeth as he uses the cloth to tug and twist at his sensitive head, the friction of the cotton against his skin making him shiver and writhe and curl his toes all the while your name falls from his lips.

And once he’s done, he’s quick to bring the cloth up to his mouth, tongue lolling against the material as he tastes his cum and you mixed together, a flavor that gets the last sad little spurt of cum oozing from his swollen tip, the sensation making him groan lowly.

Really, he just likes the taste of you – and once your physical relationship begins, this penchant he has for tasting you only increases.

Now, he doesn’t have to be sneaky – no longer does he have to rely on placing your used utensils in his mouth in order to get even the slightest bit of you on his tongue.

Now he can just wrap an arm around your waist and press you close, mouth dipping down to slot his lips against yours, a moan muffled against your mouth because god, you’re so sweet and warm and he wants to drink in everything you can give him.

(Yes you’ve watched him kiss you and pull back, swallowing and licking his lips, telling you that your spit tastes delicious, my flame, please give me more before diving back in, kissing you and sucking on your tongue so hard you can practically feel his desperation.)

Now he can press kisses against your neck and jawline, tongue lathing up and down your collarbones while he licks and sucks, the dark bruising making his eyes light up and his breathing a bit uneven.

(Normally Kyojuro is strictly against harming you, but there’s something about hickeys that makes him sway ever so slightly on this rule. Perhaps it’s because he’s the cause of the dull pain, or maybe it’s because every time he’s working at your neck and shoulders you always let out these little whines that go straight to his cock, your fingers gripping tighter at his hair. Sometimes, when he’s particularly pent up and desperate for you, he swears he can even feel your cunt throbbing through the layers of clothing separating you, as if you’re just as needy and frantic for him as he is you. Ah, what a lovely thought.)

Now he can just gently press you against the wall, getting to his knees and throwing your leg over his shoulder while he pushing the pretty robe he’d bought you up to your hips, exposing the skimpy panties he'd bought for you as a present.

(They’re red, of course, with pretty lace details around the edges and a little bow at the very top, almost as if you’re a present for him to open and play with. He’d bought them for you before he’d stolen you away, gifted them to you with a bright smile and not an ounce of shame, and had insisted you wear them despite your discomfort after noticing an odd stain on  them – one that left a dark spot that Kyojuro refused to explain, only laughing and pressing a kiss to your cheek when asked.)

He’ll lick over your clothed cunt, humming against you and chuckling when you squirm at the vibrations. He’s suckling at your clit over the cloth, those eyes of his staring up at you from between your legs, the taste of you strong and making his mind spin even before he’s actually touching you.

But soon, Kyojuro can’t settle for just your phantom taste – he needs more, needs you, and so he’s suddenly standing up, picking you up with no effort and settling you down onto the bed, immediately laying between your legs. He’s spreading your thighs and licking his lips, rolling your panties down and off your legs before absolutely devouring you – he’s licking and sucking loudly enough to make lewd, wet suction noises fill the room.

There’s wet schluck-schluck noises ringing in your ears as he pushes a finger inside, all the way down to his second knuckle and curling them, the pads of his fingers brushing against the spot that gets you moaning and your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. All the while he’s playing with your clit, tongue tracing shapes and spelling his name, humming and moaning and sucking at you like a man starved. His stamina is high, and he’s keeping up the pace until you’re clutching at his hair and moaning his name like a prayer, the pleasure making you writhe and gasp and gush all over his fingers and chin.

But once Kyojuro gets a taste of you, he’s not simply satisfied with just one orgasm – he needs more, to feel you clenching down on his fingers and your clit throbbing as he fucks you through the high.

He’ll simply laugh at your whines of too sensitive, I can’t Kyo please, keeping his steady pace and pressing a kiss against your clit that makes your hips jerk.

You can do it, he’ll tell you, slick and your cum smeared all across his lips, chin and cheeks. You can give me another one, let me make you feel good, my flame.

And even while he’s fucking you his fixation doesn’t decrease – you feel like heaven around his cock, sure, with your warm, soft walls clenching down on him and your slick coating his thighs, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from snaking up and pressing against your lips.

He'll push them inside two at a time, hot breaths against your ear telling you to suck, ngh suck for me, his hips snapping into you with more fervor as he feels your lips close around him, throat tightening and your little gagging noises as he thrusts his fingers in and out.

You’re just so beautiful, and although his fixation mostly manifests as him using his mouth on you, he certainly won’t deny you if you were to flip the script. You get on your knees for him, licking your lips and pawing at his cock over his pants?

The pants are off faster than you can blink, his hand already at the back of your head and guiding you down his length, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a low groan of yes, o-oh, you’re so warm, I’ve been thinking of this all day-!

He won’t deny you when you press kisses against his exposed chest, your tongue tracing around his sensitive nipple and feeling the skin pebble, even grazing your teeth against the sensitive skin just to hear his breath hitch and the audible gulp that follows.

He just thinks the ultimate form of intimacy is to taste each other, and Kyojuro is always eager to get closer to you, and to prove just how much he loves you – and, of course, just how depraved you make him.  

Breeding

Kyojuro will get you pregnant. It’s not even a matter of discussion as far as he’s concerned – yes, it’s a sexual fantasy for him to stuff you so full of his cum that you’re literally leaking it, but it’s more than that. He genuinely wants to build a family with you, to have you as his sweet little housewife that he dotes on and provides for and cares for, and to complete the fantasy he needs a few children running around.

He gets this dopey grin and blushing cheeks when he imagines you with a toddler clutching at your leg and a baby nursing at your breast, something inside his chest swelling with pride and happiness. And so, every time he fucks you he will be finishing inside, stuffing you as full as he physically can.

The image of you pregnant gets his breathing shallow; something about seeing you round, your breasts swollen and nipples so sensitive you sharply gasp when he so much as brushes against them making him shift his pants, his skin feeling hot and clammy. He likes the idea of knocking you up so that you’re completely, utterly dependent on him for every little thing – you’ll be so sweet and lovely and incapable, allowing him to attend to your every need. You’ll need him to walk any significant distance, to reach things on high shelves, to help you get up and out of chairs, to help with anything, really, and Kyojuro is more than happy to aid you in your time of need.

But even outside of actually getting you pregnant, the kink also satisfies some of his more shameful needs, some of his more masculine and carnal needs. After all, breeding you means coming inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum, something only he can provide you.

There’s just something about the idea of leaving you full with something so utterly him that gets him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching eagerly because just the thought makes him desperate to get his hands on you. He's not too terribly possessive, all things considered, but something about the idea of his cum settling inside you just feels right in a way he can’t describe, almost as if you were made to take it. As if you were made to take him, really, if the way your perfect little pussy sucks him in so well is any indication.

Besides, every time he finishes inside he’ll pull back and just stare, watching with bright eyes at the way his cum slowly dribbles out of you, white staining against the curve of your ass, his fingers coming up to scoop up the leaking bits and stuff them back inside you.

(And he will finish inside every time he fucks you, and even when your fist is wrapped around his girth or your lips are pressed against his base, tip making you gag at how deep he is in your throat. He’ll warn you with a near-yell of ‘m close before pushing you down and spreading your legs so quickly that it knocks the breath out of you, nestling his tip just inside you and coming, the sheer volume and force of the spurts making you squirm because you can feel it.)

There’s lots of talk about how you mustn’t waste anything he gives you, how you must keep every last drop inside you, his voice strained and breathy as he groans that into your ear, a thrust punctuating each word and making you clutch onto him for dear life because he’s fucking you meanly, every clap of his hips against yours making you physically scoot up until you reach the edge of the bed.

There’s something about the idea of stuffing you full of his cum that makes Kyojuro near feral, his hips seeming to have a mind of their own as they snap and pound against you, his cock pushing deeper and deeper and deeper, tip nestling further inside you with every thrust.

While he’s fucking you, the only thing running through his mind (aside from the constant stream of compliments towards you and the indescribable feeling of how fucking warm you are) is a mantra of needing to get deeper, to go as far inside you as he can, to press right up against your womb so that when his abs flex and his pace stutters, a shallow gasp and low groan rolling past his lips, his cum can shoot directly where it needs to go. It can spurt and splatter and flood your cute little pussy, each twitch of his cock giving you more and more and more, until it’s literally leaking out of you, even while he’s still stuffed inside you.

And Kyojuro, ever the talkative lover, is more than happy to narrate the process – his orgasms always follow a rather wanton groan of your name, his voice strained and uneven as he tells you to take it, o-oh take it take it take it, take every fucking drop ngh yes yes yes!

He’ll press down on your stomach as he finishes, the sensation making you impossibly tighter, the motion forcing his cum to shoot even deeper into you, his eyes wide in wonder and lust as if he can see the way his cock is twitching and throbbing, pushing out everything it can give you.

His voice nearly awed as he asks if you feel that, my love? I’m breeding this lovely pussy, does it feel good? It’s feels likes heaven for me, and soon you’ll be rounded and glowing and carrying my child.

He’ll pause to press a kiss against your nipple, tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin, before cupping it with his hand and squeezing, his own voice turning a bit darker as he tells you that soon your breasts will be so swollen and heavy, you’ll be feeding our child, nursing our baby…

He sucks at your nipple, hard. I’m sure you’ll taste divine – you’ll give me a taste too, I’m sure.

He’ll run his hand along your stomach, sucking in a sharp breath and telling you that you’ll be full soon, that you’ll be swollen and big and his, your body proving to him exactly who you belong to, exactly who kisses you and fucks you and gives you what your body is made for.

He just really, really wants a family with you, so don’t be surprised when he forces you to lay by his side for hours after sex, his cock keeping you stuffed full, not allowing a single drop of cum to leak out, his hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he rambles on and on about baby names and how he’ll be there for the entire birth, how he hopes the baby has his hair and your personality, how he’ll protect the both of you from demons until his dying breath.

It would be sweet, really, if he wasn’t so insistent, if he didn’t have twenty names already picked out for you to choose from, if he wasn’t telling you that according to Shinobu the part of your cycle you’re currently in is your highest window of fertility, if he wasn’t clutching onto you and saying when you’re pregnant instead of if.

And when his cock slowly hardens once more inside of you, you’ll feel the palpable change in the air as he kisses your neck again, his hips slowly starting to move as he tells you that he has to make sure it took, I have to make sure you’re carrying my child… Open your legs for me, my flame, let me give you more of me.

And when he comes with a gasp of your name a few minutes later, even more cum flooding you and sending some dripping down over his cock and onto his pelvis, Kyojuro can only lick his lips, the sight of you with a rounded belly and swollen breasts making him near feral.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Marking

While Kyojuro isn’t the most possessive, there’s something about the idea of physically marking you as his that gets his blood rushing, heat blooming on his cheeks, a wide grin splitting across his face.

Just the thought get him eagerly pulling you closer, nudging his nose against your neck, sighing heavily and letting you feel the way his pants slowly grow tighter, his breathing growing heavier as he groans your name.

There’s just something about the idea of claiming you as his own that makes some primal, animalistic part of him light up, so be prepared to be absolutely covered in marks as your sexual relationship progresses.

Hickeys will cover nearly all of your skin, leaving no area untouched by his lips and teeth. He’ll leave love marks (as he calls them) in the shape of a heart situated on the plane of your chest, nestled right up your breasts. As he’s fucking you he’ll kiss over the area again, his hips never slowing their pace as he starts whispering your name under his breath, nearly chanting it with every clap his balls against the curve of your ass.

A ‘K’ and an ‘R’ are placed on your inner thighs, so that when he sits beside you he can reach over and grip the area, sending you a blinding grin and telling you that even under all the layers of clothing he can feel your love. Once the marks fade he’ll spend hours between your legs again, remaking the hickies so there’s a letter per leg, so that every time he spreads them, excitement bubbling in his chest, he’ll see his letters, a mark of ownership, a reminder that you’re his and his alone, that your pretty skin and plush thighs and that lovely little pussy of yours is completely and utterly his.

It’s just fucking hot to Kyojuro, so when he pins you down, your body nude and bared for his eyes, know that he’ll kiss you, lips working eagerly against your own, tongue coaxing yours in an effort to get you to engage, groans and grunts tumbling into your mouth as his hands wander down to grope at your breasts, squeezing your side, toying with the pubic hair settled on your navel.

He’ll kiss you, then let his lips travel down, dipping to your neck to suck harshly against the skin, then down to your collarbone to lick and suckle, then to your nipples to bruise the area beside your areolas, then down your stomach and to your thighs, mumbling praises and sweet words of affirmation as he goes.

You’ll wince and avoid looking at yourself in mirrors after he’s through with you, but just know that Kyojuro does it all out of love.

He doesn’t enjoy hurting you, but the pleasure and pride that swells in his chest when he sees you with his markings outweighs his small worries at your bruising.

Just let it happen, really, because he’ll be getting his way, one way or the other, and while eventually the dull throb and sting as he works section after section will grow slightly painful, at least his fingers are talented – after all, you can handle the hickies when he’s making you gasp his name, cream on his fingers and beg for more, more, more, right?

Choking

While Kyojuro is generally the more dominant partner in bed (regardless of your personal tastes – he likes to feel like your provider, so even if you want to peg him until he’s a sobbing, begging mess, little mewls of your name and p-please, need to come so bad slipping past his lips, you’ll likely be the one trapped below him), there’s a certain allure to letting you take charge for a night every few weeks, letting you take the reigns for a few minutes.

There’s something oddly sexy about watching the way the power slowly goes to your head, how your eyes grow darker, your actions more passionate as you bounce up and down on top of him, your hands planted against his chest, pinching at his nipples, shoving your tongue down his throat all while he groans and enjoys the view.

He just likes to see the way you use him, his body simply a toy for you to get off on. It’s the ultimate form of caring for you – and seeing the way you’re so unabashedly pleasuring yourself gets his blood pumping so hard he can hear it in his ears, the sight of you so raw and natural and not at all the shy little thing you were when he first spread your legs all those months ago making him lick his lips in anticipation.

And yet, there’s a certain habit you’ve developed in these moments that Kyojuro absolutely cannot get enough of – that is, when your soft fingers wrap around his throat, your skin against his, pressing just hard enough to disrupt the blood flow to his brain, the feeling dizzying and disorienting and wonderful.

His eyes literally roll to the back of his head when you do this, your hips snapping and scooping above him as you tell him to hold it in, be a good boy, don’t come yet.

He’s groaning and wildly bucking his hips, face turning slightly red as you lean down to kiss him, your lips harsh and demanding, the kiss rough and forceful.

It’s heaven, Kyojuro thinks, as you clench around him, your fingers following suit, his cock twitching inside of you, his hands coming up to grope and knead at your ass as he bounces you harder and harder, the desire to come inside you suddenly washing over him.

It’s something he finds himself craving as time goes on, and so while he’ll more often prefer to be the one on top, in charge, calling the shots, be prepared for the nights where he wants to let you do all the work.

But really, once you’re straddling him, sinking down onto his drooling, leaking tip and grinding, your hand wrapped around his throat, he’ll often do most of the ‘work’ – desperate, sad little humps up into you with his heels planted against the futon mat that’ll leave you gasping and going limp, his cock reaching parts of you unexplored by your own fingers.

And when you lean down over him, your pretty face just inches away from his own flushed you’re your fingers wrapped around his neck, Kyojuro will eagerly obey when you tell him to open wide, his cock throbbing inside you as your spit lands against his tongue, your taste and the lewd sight of you spitting in his mouth making his orgasm hurtle towards him. As soon as he eagerly swallows his eyes are going wide, his words rushed and slurred and strained as he tells you that it’s so fucking good, oh here it comes, shit it’s coming, it – it’s-!

He just really, really likes the way it feels to have your pretty fingers around such a vulnerable area, so get used to it – because Kyojuro is a passionate man, and as his lover, you must be just as passionate, too. 

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Kyojuro is vocal about every sexual desire he has with you. He doesn’t believe in keeping secrets, especially in the context of sex where you could both be benefitting.

He wants to share every explicit, lewd fantasy he has of you simply because he thinks you might enjoy it – you might have even been dreaming of doing the same thing, you were just too shy to tell him.

(He knows how you are – how you’re so very shy, always seeming to skirt away from him when he nears you, your wide-eyed looks you send him when he’s talking to you, how your hands are clammy and you’re shaking ever so slightly when he pulls you in for a kiss with far too much tongue.)

And so, Kyojuro is open and honest; painfully so, really. He wakes up one morning with you in his arms, your eyes already open as he leans in and kisses the shell of your ear, sighing and pressing his navel against your ass, telling you in that husky morning voice of his that he’d dreamed about tasting you until you cry, my flame, doesn’t that sound nice?

(And of course, you’ll not be leaving that bed for hours after the fantasy is spoken out into the air – Kyojuro is nothing if not determined, and his tongue seems to never tire.) After returning home from a mission, he’s announcing to you that he’d passed by a risqué local shop and saw a drawing of a man and a woman where the woman was on top and oh, why didn’t you tell him that women sometimes enjoyed being the more dominant partner?

You’ll be left to flounder, unsure of how to respond, but it’s too late because Kyojuro is already laying down on his back, his pants pulled down to his knees and his expression eager, the smile across his lips blinding as he tells you to come here, my love, the woman in the drawing looked to be enjoying herself, and I want to see that on you as well!

However, because he has no sexual experience before you, he doesn’t harbor any particularly intense fantasies for you. He’s excited and aroused by the simple, straight-forward sex that he knows produces a child – missionary, mostly, or positions that involve spreading your legs and maintaining eye contact while he slides in, a hand cupping your cheek while he groans and tells you in a strained voice that you’re so beautiful, you feel so – ngh, so good!

And so, after a one-off chat with Tengen about wifely matters (he’s announced to the other Hashira that he has a wife, though none of them have met you or know that you aren’t actually his partner, just the woman he considers to be his wife), Kyojuro asks with complete sincerity if his friend has any advice in the bedroom.

Tengen had just laughed and clapped Kyojuro’s back, telling him that sex should be flashy, so don’t do the same things over and over! Mix things up – women love variety, so try some new positions, or a different method of pleasuring her!

When asked what other positions to try, Tengen had grinned, his eyes widening a bit as he said bend her over, she’ll feel you deeper and the view will drive you crazy.

And so, that night after coming home to you, he’d gulped, his eyes narrowing in on your ass, his voice a bit gruff as he told you to come with me, my love, I want to try something new.

“Are you comfortable?” Kyojuro asks, though he sounds distracted.

Swallowing, you nod, embarrassment clear on your face. This position was beyond humiliating – Kyojuro hadn’t explained much when he approached you earlier in the evening, simply looking at you with those unblinking eyes and telling you to get undressed because he had something new he wanted to try out.

And now, here you are, on your hands and knees on your shared bed, clothing neatly folded in a corner of the room. It’s cold, and the air is making goosebumps prickle along your skin and your nipples stiff.

If Kyojuro notices you shiver, he doesn’t say anything – instead, you hear him gulp, the sound suddenly much closer.

“You’re very beautiful…” He whispers, so quiet and unlike him that it makes you glance back over your shoulder. The sight you’re met with makes your embarrassment deepen, a mixture of shame and bashfulness seeping into your every bone.

He’s standing behind you, those wide eyes of his fixated on your exposed cunt, with his cock in hand. Thick fingers wrap around his base, visibly squeezing, his balls periodically twitching even without being touched. He looks entranced – awed, almost, presumably by the sight of your ass presented on display like this.

“Kyojuro…” You start, anxious to just get started so he’ll stop staring at you like you’re something holy and sacred. Wiggling your hips, you hope he’ll get the message.

Instead, you hear a muffled groan and suddenly feel air brushing against your sensitive folds, the sensation making your arms feel a bit weak. You feel a sudden slimy warmth, and wet noises ring in your ears as Kyojuro presses his tongue against you, dipping in briefly to taste and rub at anything he can reach. Heavy breaths are muffled against your cunt, but the insistent press of his chin against your clit makes it difficult to focus.

“Kyo – oh, Kyo please need you to fuck me, don’t tease me.” Your whines make him pause for a moment, before he slowly pulls back, pressing a single long kiss against your folds that has you biting your lip.

“Very well, you’ll have to tell me how it feels, love. Tell me everything you’re feeling.” He asks, gripping his base again and rubbing the tip through your folds, collecting your slick at the tip. His breathing is still loud, the way he’s sucking in air through clenched teeth making it obvious just how strongly the sight of you bent over and exposed like this is affecting him.

You look gorgeous – he’s intimately familiar with what’s between your legs, of course, but this view feels so lewd. He can see your pretty hole clenching every few moments, tufts of hair decorating the pretty sight, and he can even see your other hole, the one you always tell him not to touch with a squeak and a slap of his hand.

Soon he’s swallowing hard and pressing himself inside, the breath sucked out of his lungs because somehow you feel tighter like this, your cunt seeming to suck him in so tightly that it almost hurts, the sensation making his knees buckle slightly.

And you’re certainly not helping, either – as you’d promised him you’re gasping, telling him in an airy voice, “It’s so big – you’re so big, Kyo, fuck you’ve never felt so big, I can’t – you have to wait a second, please, ‘s too much-!”

And he does, with bared teeth and hands that find purchase at your ass, just as Tengen had told him to do. He’s groping at the soft flesh, grabbing handfuls and pulling them apart to get a full view. A whine slips out of him at the lewd sight of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, the angle letting him see just how you stretch to accommodate him, even seeing the edges of his balls pressed against your thighs. It’s just too much, and as soon as your shaky ‘okay’ registers, Kyojuro’s immediately thrusting.

And the sight of him moving is even more erotic – pulling out of you and seeing the ring of white coating his base makes him lean more of his weight against you, trying to get more leverage as he thrusts back in so that he can fuck you harder, wanting to get impossibly deeper to feel more and more of you. He’s entranced, watching with wide eyes the way he appears and disappears inside of you again and again, almost lost in a trance.

Your noises have him grunting, the desperate whines and rhythmic gasps every time he sinks back into you making his orgasm come creeping up much too quickly. He’s just too overwhelmed, your pretty moans and cries of his name making his head spin.

Soon he’s bringing a leg up and pressing his foot flat against the ground, gaining better leverage and an angle that makes you scream, your cunt squeezing down on him so tightly that he struggles to pull back to just his tip. He’s seen animals do this in the wild – he’s fucking you like an animal would, mounting you and grasping at your waist to pull you back against him harder, anything and everything to get him deeper inside, to reach a part of you that he’s sure no man or even you have touched.

You’re just too damn pretty, and as he gasps your name and clutches onto you tightly enough to leave bruises while ropes of runny cum fill you, Kyojuro decides that he needs to try out all the other positions Tengen had told him about – perhaps he’ll try something called 69 with you tomorrow.

Maybe that’ll get you to scream his name like this ‘Doggy’ has.

[4ngel-inc]

BUNGO STRAY DOGS — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒. ࿐

notes: mdni. fem reader. it's literally them getting handjobs & blowjobs that's the whole post. dialogue heavy & they're all a little submissive/needy. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

characters: dazai, chuuya, fyodor + reader.

DAZAI.

"f-fuck, your hands feel like heaven, sweetheart, i must be dreaming."

dazai's head rolled back onto the couch as he spread his legs further, running his fingers through your hair as his brows furrowed, eyes blissfully closed.

"hmm, not quite." you teased, licking up the length of his cock before returning to jerking him off—slow, sensual strokes before picking up the pace once more.

"you're gonna fucking kill me, darling. can't stop cumming. . .  oh, make me cum again, please?"

you'd been at it for hours, the muscles in your arms and shoulders burning slightly from the work you'd been doing.

just as his dick began to swell in your hands, head becoming firmer and leaking heavily, a response to the delicious twisting motions you were tormenting him with—you pulled away, a pathetic whine leaving dazai's lips.

"w-why?" he looked pained as his cock slapped against his stomach, wet and cold from the loss of your touch.

"i think you've cum enough for one day, don't you?"

he smirked, seeming to enjoy your teasing, but pained by it nonetheless. you weren't sure you'd ever get to see him so fucked out again, completely wrapped around your finger.

"i-i don't think so? make me cum one more time?"

"hmm, not sure. . . weren't you flirting with the waitress at the café just earlier today? why would i reward you for being such a fucking womanizer?"

"you-ah- sound like fuckin' chuuya right now. why do you want to punish me?"

his eyes were glossy, cheeks flushed and bangs sticking to his forehead from the light sweat decorating his skin.

"because- you like it, don't you, sweetie?"

you had both hands on him, stroking hard and fast as he whimpered and whined and begged for you to let him cum.

"you gonna be good for me from now on, no more flirting with other women?"

"y-yeah, i mean yes. please, give it to me. . ."

"give you what, hm?"

"your mouth- your pussy, anything. . . fuck me, baby."

"hmm, fine."

you placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock before straddling him, his eyes entranced by your pretty face, never leaving yours as you slid down on him, settling at the base before rocking your hips slowly.

CHUUYA.

"might have to put my hands behind my back for this one, shit."

chuuya was leaning against the hard wall—the two of you hidden behind a corner no one else in the mafia seemed to ever stray to. you were hidden from the world, at least for the moment.

"hmm, love the way you taste, 'chu . . ." you teased his dick, tongue flicking over the pretty vein just below the hard head of his cock.

"ha- is that so?"

a cocky smile spread across his face as he admired how pretty you looked with his cock stuffed in your mouth—eyes filled with lust and desire as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up slightly as he moved his hips slowly, fucking your face much more gently than he wanted to.

"starting to think you want me to lose control, huh, baby?"

you pulled away, jerking him off quickly as you looked up at him, the sound of his wet cock sliding in your palm the only noise reverberating in the empty hallway. 

one hand behind his back squeezed the wrist of his other, attempting to hold himself back from fucking your mouth hard and fast the way he really wanted to.

"fuck- just do it. make me cum. can't take it anymore. . ."

god—you were just so damn good to him—practically worshipping him each time you dropped to your knees. you'd always been that way, ready to please him at a single moment's notice.

"hm- what is it, 'chu? you wanna fuck my throat like i'm your little whore, don't you?"

"oh fuck yeah- gonna let me, angel?

"not today, you're gonna cum in my hand. . . wanna feel your cum, wanna taste you."

you felt his hot cum leaking over your fingers only a moment later, dripping down your wrist as he groaned, banging his fists against the stone wall behind him.

"fuck- i'm fucking your face when i get home. . . got it? then i want you face down, ass up."

you nodded in agreement as you licked up and down your wrist, not wasting a single drop of him as you savored the taste of chuuya that was spilled all over you.

"god- you're fucking amazing, baby. how'd i get so lucky?"

you smiled at that, pulling his pants back up and buckling the expensive silver buckle, tucking his shirt back in.

"i could say the same about you, handsome."

FYODOR.

"do you enjoy doing this to me, my love?"

"hmm, what do you think?"

he was leaning back against the shower wall, admiring you as you sucked his cock with delight, moaning each time you took him down your throat.

the water droplets trickling from his hair and rolling down his pale skin only made you want him more—he was gorgeous, you could never grow tired of looking at him.

"you enjoy the taste of me, is that it, darling?"

"i love it—love the way you taste. . ."

fyodor had a habit of never showing his emotions—and unfortunately, that was true when it came to sex, too. it seemed like he was enjoying it, but he was reacting more passively than you'd hoped—and you were trying your hardest to make sure he was entirely caught up in you, not a single thought on his mind but you.

"do you like it, baby?" you chanced, a flicker of insecurity in your eyes.

you slowed the movements of your hands on his shaft, a look of disappointment taking over your features as you loosened your grip on him.

he grabbed your hand and squeezed his cock with it, sliding it up and down his shaft once more.

"don't stop, my dear. . . your hand feels wonderful on me. use your mouth, too. . . oh yes, like that."

your heart lit up at that, taking him deeper, fingers running through the trimmed hair at the base of his cock, the softness against your skin turning you on even more.

you pulled back to admire the blissful expression on his face, finally seeing the emotion you were searching for.

"hmm, you know i love you, yes?" he stroked your jaw gently, changing the mood to something more serious.

"i know, fyodor. and i love you."

"good, my good girl. . . yes, keep sucking my cock. you want to please me, do you not?"

"more than anything," you nodded, his hands tangled in your hair again as he pressed you deeper, harder, and faster on his cock, bucking his hips into your mouth now.

"good, then i'll give you what you want. all of me."

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter 9 (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: cursing, physical fight, verbal altercation, crying, cheating, lots of emotions, kissing, smut!, 6.9k words

a/n: holy shit y'all this is long. sorry. also links aren't working so you might have to go to the browser if you need the masterlist. love y'all

series masterlist

The silence doesn’t last long around us as Uncle Buck and Dad come running towards the commotion. But Chris doesn’t react to their shouts, leaning down and grabbing Jace up by his shirt. I finally make myself known, going to kneel beside Jace until one of Chris’ friends grabs my arm and shakes his head.

“Say it again.” Chris almost begs, his voice dark and dangerous like he’s looking for a reason to hit him again.

Jace’s eyes spew pure hatred back and he curls his lip up in disgust. “Get your fucking hands off me. Do you know who I am?”

“I think you’re a fucking baby who doesn’t know how to respect women.”

For whatever reason that causes Jace to get more upset, as if it isn’t partially true. I feel frozen, like I’m watching a movie unfold in front of me and there’s nothing I can do to affect what happens.

Jace attempts to get up, it’s unclear whether or not he’s trying to get back at Chris again or just simply standing up but the boy on top of him isn’t having any of it.

Chris slams Jace back into the ground, pushing his back into the slightly rocky dirt. “Let me get up asshole” Jace spits out, clearly embarrassed by the crowd of people watching him get his ass kicked.

All that can be heard is a petty laugh from Chris as he looks down at Jace one last time. “Nah. Go ahead. You’re tough. Speak about her that way again and see what happens, pretty boy.”

For once in Jace's entire life… he’s silent. He just looks to the side to avoid eye contact as Chris gets off of him. I thought this was the end, that the nightmare was over, but of course, it’s Jace we’re talking about.

“That bitch would never even like you.” Jace mumbles under his breath, eyes still trained on anything but Chris.

Unsurprisingly Chris looks down at him, both figuratively and literally. What does surprise me, however, is how Chris immediately spits at the pathetic boy on the ground. “Leave my girl the fuck alone, for good.”

This really set Jace off. Despite his inability to commit to a proper relationship, he was always possessive of me. “Your girl? She's only had one dick down her throat and it’s certainly not yours.”

He’s propped up on his elbows now, a familiar smug smirk on his face. All I feel is a pit in my stomach at his words. His words are spoken in front of everyone I care about.

I’m not a slut. It’s only ever been with Jace, and I never once enjoyed it as much as I thought I was supposed to. But Jace always told me I was good. For a long time, his approval was enough for me.

It became less about me finishing and more about having someone to tell me that I was doing a good job. And now he’s sharing my most intimate details in front of all these people. In front of Chris.

I feel eyes on me as the tears well up in my eye sockets, my arms crossed over my body to cover whatever dignity I have left.

Chris takes one look at me standing there watching in horror, before focusing back on Jace who’s now standing up. Jace clearly thinks he’s won this one since he still has a smug smirk even as he wobbles, but his nasty words don’t stand a chance next to the fuming boy who’s walking back towards him.

It all happens so fast, Chris’ sharp boot being kicked into Jace's side with full force. Jace is knocked back into the dirt as Chris shows no sign of stopping his painful movements.

Within a few seconds, my uncle is walking toward Chris to pull him back by his shoulders. “Get the fuck off me!” Chris yells out, eager to return to where he left off.

But Uncle Buck just pulls him back further, his grip strong. “Take a walk boy.”

“But-“ Chris tries to argue but it’s clearly a lost cause because the gaze in my uncle's eyes is more serious than Chris has ever seen it. He drops his head, breathing heavily, too full of respect for Buck to argue.

“Take a walk. Figure out your shit. Then come back, son.”

“Evie?” He asks softly, looking more like a kid being put in timeout than the man who just kicked someone’s ass for me.

“Birdie’s got her. Go.”

Before he does, we lock eyes one more time. But all the anger seems to have vanished from his features and he just looks… disappointed. Before I can even think of something to say, he turns and walks away with his hands on his head.

Once he’s out of eyesight, the crowd starts to dissipate since it’s clear the scene, and the party for that matter, is over. My uncle helps Jace from the ground with my dad’s help and I finally regain my ability to move.

As I come closer, Jace takes a step back like he thinks I’m going to take the next swing. Honestly, I really should. But I just clear my throat and narrow my eyes at him. “Bitch, huh? Too much baggage for you?”

He scoffs, his eyes damn near bucking out of his head. “That’s what you’re worried about? I was just viciously attacked! I need my fucking lawyer.”

My lip curls up in disgust as I watch him pat his pockets for his phone and come up empty. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. You’re such a fucking loser.”

He pauses and looks up at me, giving me a hateful look that turns slowly into a wicked smile. “You want to talk about losers, sweetheart?”

Since I know him well enough to know when he’s going in for what he thinks is a kill shot, I brace myself before shrugging and forcing a mask of indifference. “You can’t hurt me anymore, Jace.” I lie. “I don’t care.”

“What about her?” He says, nodding at Lydia from where she stands a few feet away. As soon as she meets my eye, she goes frozen and pale as if she’s seen a ghost. And before he says another word, I know.

Memories resurface so quickly, that it feels like I’m watching them happen to someone else. Lydia freaking out whenever I touched her phone. The way Jace always remembered only two of our group’s orders at Starbucks- mine and Lydia’s. How conveniently they always seemed to end up near each other at events and parties.

My breathing hitches as I face her fully, fighting as hard as I can to keep my composure. “How long?”

“Y/N, please-” She tries to croak out, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

“How fucking long?”

She doesn’t answer for a moment and Jace chimes in behind me with an arrogant flair. “A year. About a week after we fucked to be more accurate. Great week for me.”

Before I can blink, my dad snatches him by the shirt and throws him against the side of the house. “I suggest you start watching your fucking mouth. It’s gonna get you hurt.” Dad lets him go and steps back with a warning look. “Go get your shit so I can get you back to your daddy.”

My head is reeling as I look around dazed. The expressions range from anger to shock, and even worse… pity. I can’t take it anymore, so I turn to rush to my room until I hear Jace call out behind me.

“And tell your little boyfriend, he can expect a call from my attorney.”

I freeze and look over my shoulder, surprising both Jace and myself when I burst into laughter. “Try it and I’ll tell your dad every fucking thing I know. I’ll start by advising him to check his gambling books.”

All the smugness abandons him as he goes white at my words so I give him a huge grin of my own. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

************

By the time I finally force myself to get out of the bath, I’m feeling completely numb. I’d sat in there for an hour, basically just staring at the wall and trying to figure out how I’d been so stupid.

I’m not even sad, not really. But there’s this ache in my heart like something is missing. I guess that’s what happens when you love someone for this long and lose them. Or maybe this is just proof of what my mind has been telling me all along- that I could never be enough.

When I’m dressed, I sit on my bed and check my messages. I’ve fallen out of the habit lately but tonight I’m longing for connection. There are a few worried texts but I ignore most of them, only answering Abby and letting her know I’m okay.

There’s a message from Brielle swearing she had no idea about Lydia and Jace, but I’m not sure if I can believe her, and I don’t have the brainpower to try to figure it out tonight. She’d left along with the other two at my dad’s insistence and I honestly think it was for the best. At least until I figure out who I can and can’t trust.

A sharp knock sounds on my door and I sigh deeply and toss my phone before telling them to come in. Birdie strolls in holding a plate of the Welcome Home cake we never got to cut and I can’t help but smile.

“Hi, my bunny. How are you feeling?” Her voice is so kind and the question is so genuine, I feel like I’m about to crumble in her hands. I try, I really try, not to Iet a tear fall as I nod quickly, but I fail.

She rushes over to me, places the cake on the nightstand, and takes me into her arms. “Let it out, honey. You’ve earned it.”

So I cry. Even though I’m not that surprised, even though I maybe even expected it. I cry for all the wasted youth I gave him. For all the effort I put into trying to be a girl he might love. For all the parts of me, I threw away to make room for him.

And yes, I maybe even cry for Lydia. For the days when I’d have called her my closest friend. I sob into my aunt’s arms until there’s nothing left to give, until my head throbs and my chest aches. Until, before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.

*************

I wake up with a start to an empty and dark room thinking I must have slept through the next day, but realize it’s only been a couple of hours. What the fuck? Isn’t heartbreak supposed to keep you asleep or something?

Groggily, I wrap my throw blanket around my shoulders and head into the living room to see who’s still awake but, to my surprise, it’s empty. I guess they decided to go out since I did technically ruin their party. Fair enough, honestly.

There’s not much to do in the house alone, so I decide to go see the one girl I know who won’t ever let me down. I just hope she’s still awake.

When I get to the stables, the door is cracked a bit and I raise an eyebrow. There must already be someone here. I look down at my pajama pants that I haphazardly stuffed into my muddy work boots, trying to decide if it’s worth the humiliation. Then I remember the events of a few hours ago…yeah, way past that point, I guess.

I don’t know what I expected to find when I pushed the door open, but it definitely wasn't this- Chris leaned against the back wall, knees to his chest and his head in his hands.

He hears the squeak of the door and looks up, his blue eyes stormy and dark. We hold each other's gaze for a long moment, neither of us saying a word until he finally stands.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be in here, I’ll go.” He goes to rush out of the door so I move over to block it and panic, saying the first thing that pops into my head.

“Where’s Evie?”

He pauses, not expecting the question, and blinks quickly. “She..uh.. I took her home.” A look of guilt passes over his face and he flinches. “I can’t believe I fought in front of her. Thank god Birdie grabbed her before she could see me like that.”

He sounds so disappointed in himself that I want to pull him in for a hug but I hold myself back. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

Chris levels me with a look so fierce a shudder goes down my spine. “Don’t do that. That’s on him. Not you.”

“I just don’t understand why you did it,” I admit, studying his boots instead of his face out of nervousness.

“If you think I was gonna sit back and let that bitch of a boy call you out of your name, you’ve lost your mind.” He grinds out with disgust, his skin flushing red as anger seems to settle back in over him. He starts to pace back and forth as my eyes track him in frustration.

"But what does that have to do with you? You’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with me." I say, fighting to keep my voice level and calm. I don’t want to make whatever has forced its way between us bigger but I’m tired of guessing at how he feels.

He laughs bitterly, still refusing to meet my eye as he shakes his head. “Have I? Is that right?”

I sigh, running a hand over my face. “There you go again, speaking in riddles. Why can’t you ever just be direct? I’m tired of playing these games.”

Chris finally stops his pacing and turns to meet my eye. “Games?” He asks, disbelief clear in his tone. “You think this is a game to me? I wasn’t ever playing with this, Scotch.” He gestures between the two of us widely before he spins away from me again, locking his arms behind his head.

The seconds stretch on as I stare blankly at his back waiting to see if he will say more. Just as I’m about to leave him to his thoughts, he faces me again, seeming to come to a decision.

“Fuck it.” He says simply as he crosses the space in three long strides and catches my mouth in a kiss. He braces his hands on either side of my face, the movement so abrupt and passionate that it takes several seconds for my brain to catch up.

The momentum of the kiss causes my back to hit one of the empty stalls slightly but I don't care in the slightest when Chris’ lips are on mine.

He pulls back for a moment, realizing his body moved before his brain had a chance to comprehend what he was doing. “Is this okay? I’m sorry. I don’t ever do shit like that. I just-“

I cut him off with another kiss, my hands pulling down his head to attach his lips back onto mine. This kiss is a lot different than the others we’ve shared in our time together. Usually, it’s short and sweet with smiles and small talk in between, but the passion behind this one is much more clear.

His hands trail on my sides causing me to shiver slightly at the touch. He detaches his mouth from mine again, but before I can get confused about it his lips make contact with my neck.

The way his lips suck softly on my bare skin has my head thrown back in pleasure, his hands coming up to make contact with my chest. “Fuck, Chris. I need to feel you.” I breathe out, reaching my hands towards his belt.

I can feel him hesitate, stiffening when I make contact before he groans and pulls back. His face pulls up in a helpless look and he shakes his head. “Not here.”

I furrow my brows as I try to pull him back to me but he doesn’t budge. “Why not?”

He gives me a look of disbelief as he gestures at our surroundings, kicking his feet at the hay for emphasis. “Scotch, ain't no way in hell I’m having sex with you in this dirty ass stable.”

Disappointment and a tinge of rejection tug at my chest as I nod and take a step back. “Okay.”

Tutting, Chris tilts my face up to his and presses a gentle kiss on my lips. “Don’t give me that look, baby. You know how bad I want you.”

As he speaks, he drops kisses lower and lower down my jawline until he finds a sweet spot on my neck, running his tongue slowly over it.

“But you deserve a bed…” He swirls his tongue as he pauses, his hand on my hip slipping just below my waistband. “And I deserve time.”

Moaning slowly at the sweet torture, I let myself melt into him until the frustration is too much and I push against his chest. “You making me even more horny is just mean if you’re not going to do anything about it.”

His eyes widen slightly at my desperate words as he pulls away, clearly not expecting that from me. “I..uh..never said that.” He looks around the stable. “Just can’t do a thing about it here.”

His answer was not a no, which is all I needed. I reach my hand down once more, fingers making contact with his obvious boner before I lean into his ear. “If you can’t do it here, then you’d better find somewhere you can.”

He searches my face for signs of uncertainty but he comes up short, leaning down to place one more kiss to my lips before replying. “Yes ma’am.”

***************

“Okay, Scotch,” Chris says, turning to me as he throws his truck into park. “We’re gonna have to be very quiet.”

“Why? Are we hunting wabbits?” I ask sarcastically in my absolutely atrocious Loony Toons impression.

He gives me a completely unimpressed stare before he tilts his head up toward the sky. “God, why? Why’d you give me this cornball?”

“Okay. Okay. What’s the plan?” I ask through my laugh, my stomach doing an involuntary flip when his eyes land back on mine.

Instead of answering, he watches me for a second before leaning over the center console and pulling me in for a kiss. It’s short and sweet, his thumb caressing the side of my face. I feel the heat rising to my face even before he pulls away. “Just follow my lead.”

I do exactly that, stepping carefully over the gravel and stepping to the side as he slowly unlocks and pushes open his front door. It makes a long creaking sound and we both hold our breath as we slip inside.

His house has the same classic farmhouse feel as my aunt and uncle’s except for a more antique touch. I smile when I see the floral patterns that adorn almost all of the furniture in the room- a grandma classic.

As if it wasn’t hard enough to keep my steps quiet, Evie’s toys are scattered across the floor like little landmines. I see Chris grimace as he sends a toy car zooming across the carpet accidentally. Just when I’m about to laugh at his clumsiness, I land down on a giant piano mat and suddenly I’m playing Beethoven with my feet.

Our eyes widen at the loud notes before Chris wraps his arms around my waist and snatches me off it. We freeze like we’re in a spy movie and we’ve set off a laser but we don’t hear any movement.

We take the stairs two at a time, moving as silently as possible until we reach the top. As soon as we do, Chris bursts into quiet laughter. “I knew I should have made her pick up her shit before bed.”

After what feels like an eternity we finally make it to his room, one of only two doors on this floor. He opens the door for me and ushers for me to go in first but I can’t help but feel completely awkward.

It’s one thing in the heat of the moment, but the stinging in my foot from where I stepped on a Lego has distracted my mind slightly.

When he closes his door behind him, I study him nervously before whispering, “Do we still have to be quiet?”

Shaking his head, he walks past me and takes a seat at the foot of his bed. “It’s only me up here. I mean, don’t yell or nothin’.”

This pulls me out of my awkwardness a bit and I give him a teasing smile. “Damn. I guess I’ll just have to wait to hear you scream.”

He raises an eyebrow and laughs, prodding his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “You wish.”

Still a bit too nervous to initiate anything, I take a moment to study his room. It’s a lot cleaner than I’d expect from a blue-collar boy, with only a few piles of clothes scattered around the floor. His bed is even surprisingly made.

His walls though are very typically bare, hosting only a small shelf of trophies, a framed Lil Skies vinyl, and a few pictures of friends and family on a corkboard. I scan them curiously, always desperate to know more about him.

I recognize a few of the friends but the picture of him being held by a woman with his eyes holds my attention. He looks about five years old, holding a cotton candy cone with a huge grin as he looks over at her. I run my finger over it gently, before deciding not to bring it up.

Instead, I go for something lighter and turn to point at the vinyl. “Okay, so, there’s being a fan, and then there’s an obsession. Why is it framed? I don’t even see a record player, you fraud.”

His eyes widen in faux offense and he puts a hand up. “First of all, don’t question me about the GOAT-”

“So debatable-”

“Second! You expect me to believe you don’t have a record player collecting dust at home? No chance.”

“Actually,” I say, rushing to defend myself. “It’s definitely been used, thank you very much.”

“How many times?” He questions, leaning forward and manspreading his legs.

At my very obvious wince of guilt, he scoffs and crosses his arms. “Lemme guess. It’s got Bluetooth, don’t it?”

“Okay,” I say, laughing and shaking my head in shame. “Shut up. I hate you.”

“You don’t.” He says with complete certainty and I roll my eyes. There’s that cockiness I’ve come to expect. But when I look back at him, it feels like the energy in the room has shifted a bit and I almost want to squirm.

He holds my eye contact with intensity before he gives

me a soft and firm, “C’mere.”

Anxiousness almost nails me to my spot but I fight it to walk over and stand between his legs, resting my hands delicately on his shoulders as I look down at him. He runs his hands up and down the sides of my legs, pausing to pull me in closer before continuing.

There’s nothing in the world I want to do more than kiss him at this moment so I do. Bending slightly, I press my lips to him in a slow and casual kiss that quickly turns more passionate. He lifts me onto his lap for more access before he hesitates and pulls away.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his eyes bouncing between mine as if trying to detect if my mind has changed. “Nothing has to happen tonight just because you’re here.”

Even without the undeniable honesty in his tone, I would have believed him but hearing him say it out loud makes it that much easier. I nod profusely, leaning back in to kiss him again but he dodges it and takes my face in his hands.

“Gonna need you to say it, Scotch.”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything than I am about this, Chris. I need you.” I make sure to keep my eyes on his so he knows I mean it. But the minute it’s out of my mouth, it’s like a switch flips as he pulls me back in roughly.

He kisses me wildly, his lips moving against mine with every bit of neediness that I’m feeling as well. When his tongue touches mine and coaxes a tremor out of him, I realize just how much power he’s handed over to me. But before I even have the chance to test it again, he flips us over, placing his body over mine as he slides me higher up the mattress.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss with him on top of me to take a turn. My legs are wrapped around him while his hands rest on my ass in order to pull himself closer to me. I can feel his bulge on me through the restriction of his jeans but it only makes me want him more.

He seems like he's slightly lost in the kiss. That or he’s too scared to do anything else. I pull back, a sight whine in my tone as I look him in the eye. “You do know you can touch me right?”

“I just want to make this good for you,” he replies, seeming uncharacteristically sheepish. It’s not often I see him so nervous which only makes me laugh through my breath.

“You’ve already made me more wet than I've ever been and you’ve only kissed me,” I whisper, causing a smile and a sense of relief to wash over him. “I just want to know what it’s like to do this sort of thing with someone who cares about me.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, as if the answer isn’t blatantly obvious, his hands sliding up my sides again. This time though they’re under my shirt and the feeling is overwhelming.

I nod quickly. “‘Of course I do, Chris.” He smiles, dropping his head back down to my neck to suck on the skin softly. I get lost in the feeling momentarily, his fingers slowly tugging at the fabric that keeps me from him while I try my best to remain still under his touch.

As amazing as it feels, I grow impatient quickly as the throbbing between my legs overtakes any regular thought. “Chris please.”

He pauses on my neck for a moment, lifting my shirt above my head to leave me below him in the Victoria's Secret bra Lydia bought me for my 16th birthday. His eyes linger for a moment before he finally responds, a teasing smirk on his face. “Please what?”

I shake my head and fix my messed-up hair slightly. Of course, the asshole on top of me is going to make me spell it out for him. “Stop making me wait for you.”

“A whole damn summer of driving me insane and you think I’m gonna rush this?” He scoffs playfully before his lips make contact with mine again. His hands find comfort on my chest, causing me to arch my back into the touch.

Expecting another cocky remark at my neediness, it takes me aback when instead he just instructs me to sit up, his voice taking on a deeper affliction. It takes me a second to comprehend why I'm sitting up for him until his hand snakes behind my back and unclasps the lacy fabric with one hand.

It feels very real suddenly but I try not to let myself get anxious under his gaze. I keep my eyes on his face, his kind open eyes reminding me there’s nothing to be worried about. He’s not Jace.

“You’re so beautiful. Like really fucking beautiful.” He whispers as he takes the fabric off me fully, leaving me exposed below him.

Before I can leave behind another snarky remark about how long he’s taking his head dips down to my chest. He places a few kisses on my collarbone before his mouth finally makes contact with one of my nipples.

His tongue swirls around the bud and my hands can’t help but falter to his curly brown hair. The feeling of his lips sucking on me while his hands explore the rest of my body.

He’s true to his word on taking his time with me, and for once I don’t feel the need to rush it and get it over with. For once sex doesn’t feel like a chore.

Slowly, his kisses on my chest travel down my stomach, a soft noise left behind with each one. I squeeze my thighs together in order to relieve some tension that I'm not entirely sure what else to do with.

His fingers begin unbuttoning my pants and tugging gently before I lift my hips to grant him access. He slides them off along with my socks in one swift movement.

“Wait,” I say, causing concern to overtake his face in the dimly lit bedroom.

“Are you okay? We can stop,” he replies, pausing immediately and pulling back.

I just reply by lifting his t-shirt over his head, messing up his hair slightly. “Now we’re more even.” I smile.

He returns my smile, relief in his eyes as he kisses me. A more intimate kiss than before, a softer one that reminds me there’s more than lust between us. “I really like you.” He says, voice low and urgent as if he needs to make sure I know.

For whatever reason this does it for me, more than the touches and the way his hands rest on my side. Not that I didn’t know but the confirmation lights me anew. He really likes me. He likes me for me and not some made-up version of who he thinks I should be.

“I like you more,” I reply, a huge grin plastered on my face as he lowers his body back down to align himself with my center.

He kisses just above the line of my underwear, his thumb placing light pressure on my clit through the fabric while he replies. “Impossible.”

His hands pull on my underwear slowly, as if asking for permission which of course I grant eagerly. Lifting my hips to help him out, I can’t help but flush at how slowly and sensually he pulls them off. He whispers something under his breath that I don’t catch but sounds a bit like ‘beautiful’ before he comes back to me.

Expecting him to slide inside of me at any moment, I sit up and reach down to undo his pants but instead, he pushes me back into the mattress and swats away my hand.

Just as I’m about to question him, I feel his hand reach down to make contact with the wetness that’s pooled up for him, his fingers exploring my entrance slightly as his palm places a light pressure to my bare clit.

I try my best not to moan out at the slightest contact, finding it embarrassing how sensitive I am. It’s not like I've never had an orgasm in my whole life; I just haven’t had one at the hands of another person.

His lips find comfort on my neck again to place a few light kisses before shifting his body down on the bed completely. I shift uncomfortably as his hands slowly slide down my body, the touch leaving prickly goosebumps behind.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this, yeah?” He asks as his face is completely aligned with the section of my body that’s practically begging for him.

“Chris I swear to god if you ask me that again I'll-“ I’m cut off by his tongue licking a stripe through my folds, testing the waters and realizing just how easy it is to get me to shut up.

I place my hand over my mouth at the feeling of his nose brushing against my sensitivity, trying my best to keep my hopes still under his touch.

He pulls off momentarily before lifting my legs over his shoulders to grant him easier access. “If you thought I was going to have sex with you without getting a taste, you are out of your mind.”

I don’t bother replying, refusing to prolong the teasing any longer. But embarrassingly my heart can’t help but flutter at his desire to make me feel good. It’s nice being prioritized for once.

His lips wrap around the throbbing bud as he uses his tongue in an urgency I wasn’t expecting. My hips lift slightly up to meet his face but a hand pushes me into the bed by my lower stomach to keep me still.

My stomach is tensing at the pleasure of his tongue flicking repeatedly and it's near impossible to not let out any noises. A few small whimpers escape my lips without a second thought causing me to cringe slightly at the thought of anyone hearing this.

He slows his movements every once and a while to place delicate kisses on my lower half, practically cherishing me before he continues his relentless work on my clit.

My heavy breathing fills the room and it hitches at the addition of one of his fingers. It slides into me with ease and immediately curls upwards at a teasing speed.

A moan slips out of the palm of my hand and I can feel him smile against me as his finger stretches me out and his tongue continues the flicking movement.

I feel the build-up in my stomach approach but I’m scared of releasing my hand from my lips. I’m not used to having to hold back real moans during sex.

So I tap him on the shoulder, causing the boy to immediately look up at me with eyes that have my heart beating out of my chest. He watches me as pleasure coils inside my stomach, a look of satisfaction and wonder in his eyes.

He pulls his lips away from my core to place another loving kiss on my lower stomach. “Can I put another one in?” He asks, looking up at me for permission.

I nod with a slight fear lingering in my head. Chris' fingers are definitely larger than my own.

He dips his head back down to refocus his attention on my clit momentarily before carefully entering another finger into my core. It must be obvious that it’s been a while because he works slowly.

Soon enough the stretching turns into pleasure and a gasp slips from my lips as he curves his fingers deep inside of me, deeper than before. As his fingers curl up to hit the sweet spot I could never reach, his tongue swirls against my clit at its fastest pace.

His other hand rubs soothing circles against my hip as I cling to him, pleading for more as his tongue and finger find a rhythm.

When I feel my high building, it’s so intense, so unlike anything I’ve experienced before, I almost want to run away. But I’m like putty in his hands as he works over my body, every kiss feeling like worship.

I say his name through a moan and meet his eye as waves of pleasure crash over me, his movements pausing and giving me a break as I ride it out. He crawls up my body, a grin on his face as I settle down and go weak in his arms.

Chris presses kiss after kiss to my face until I giggle and pull away to look him in the eye. “That was-”

“I know.” He cuts in, his cocksure smirk snapping back into place as he raises a brow at me. I roll my eyes and shove him up, unable to hide my smile at his quiet laughter.

We both pause for a second, him seeming unsure how much further I want to go and me not being used to taking control. But something about the way he’s looking at me fills me with confidence and I pull myself back over his lap, straddling him.

He sits up against his headboard, moving me with him, and places his hands on my hips as he studies me. I can see from his expression that he wants to ask yet again if I’m sure, so I cut him off with a hungry kiss, grinding myself against his jeans.

Straining even harder against his pants, he groans and gives in, reaching down to tug off his belt quickly. I slide off of his lap so he can stand and get off the rest of his clothes, my eyes frozen on his bulge as he removes his boxers.

My jaw drops as his length is revealed and I tear my eyes away to give him an incredulous look. Before I can stop myself, I stutter out a stunned, “Is that going to fit?”

His eyes dance with amusement, biting his lip to keep from outright laughing at me before he nods. “You can take it.”

Stepping over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box of condoms before going to put it on. My heart starts to flutter a bit when I realize that it’s a new and unopened box and I hide my smile.

Finally covered, he walks back toward me so I lie down on instinct, figuring he’ll turn me around if he prefers backshots but he tuts and shakes his head. “Uh uh, baby. This ain’t a laid back kinda night.”

He lifts me and takes my place, bringing me down to straddle him again. Panic floods me as I realize what he wants. “Chris… I don’t know…I’ve never done that before.”

Embarrassment makes me look away from him but he grabs the back of my neck and gently tugs me down for a kiss. “It’s okay, Scotch. I got you.”

Nodding slowly, I let the feeling of safety settle over me before I give up control. Chris guides me up by my hips, placing me against his dick but letting me set the pace.

With a steadying breath, I slowly lower myself down inch by inch, gasping as he fills me. When I think there’s no way I could possibly take anymore, I look down and realize he’s only halfway inside. Meeting his eyes, I give him a helpless look and he squeezes my hips.

“You’re alright, baby. Just like that.”

I can hear the strain in his voice as he tries not to move to let me adjust and it spurs me on until I completely bottom out. Chris whispers a quiet string of curses, screwing his eyes shut in pleasure. “Fuck, I knew you’d feel like this.”

Moaning at his words and feeling my wetness pool around him, I rock my hips and throw my head back. I swirl my hips, trying to find a rhythm that feels right until Chris lifts me again.

This time, he’s more urgent and a bit rougher, tugging me up and down as he thrusts his hips up to meet mine. I move with him, letting him push deeper inside of me until I want to scream. I want to lean down and kiss him again but the friction between us feels too good to break the rhythm.

Deciding to fight for my sliver of dominance back, I brace my hands on his chest and set my own tempo. It clearly drives him crazy, his hands gripping my hips tighter as he moans out my name. Not a pet name. Not even Scotch. But my name. And the way it sounds on his lips is enough to have me clenching against him.

“Fuck.” He groans, his hands traveling up to squeeze my breasts as they bounce with our movements. “That’s my fucking girl.”

My moans must get too loud because he pulls me down and smashes his lips against mine, swallowing every whimper he coaxes out of me. I try to hold off when I feel another orgasm tearing through me, desperate to stretch this feeling out forever. But it’s no use.

“Chris, I’m coming-” I try to say against his lips but he already knows, pulling back to watch me fall apart on top of him.

I press my face into his shoulder as I come around him, my teeth grazing his skin as I shudder with pleasure. Knowing I’m about a second away from tapping out, he picks up his pace, his lips going to the base of my throat.

He lets out a strangled sound before going limp and wrapping his arms even tighter around me. Neither of us moves a muscle, not even bothering to pull out as we breathe heavily skin to skin.

There’s a moment of fear, of insecurity, when I’m not sure what will happen next. So I lie as still as I can hoping to prolong the moment when everything changes. The fear stays as he finally pulls away and goes to clean up. It persists when he comes back and hands me an oversized shirt and a pair of his boxers.

It isn’t until he’s laid down beside me, my body pulled flush against his that I understand. Not until he leans me back to press a sweet and casual goodnight kiss on my lips.

He’s not anything like the boy I loved before. He can be a safe place to land

🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @bueckerssturns @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @fwskullz @luv4kozume @breeloveschris @leighbronk @sophia-77n @xoxo4chrisss @ribread03 @h3arts4harry @chrissystur @pepsiboyy @watercolorskyy @sturnsmia @rorylovesmatt @fake-sturniolos @slut4chriss

[changbunnies]

All About You, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), age gap, angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine, and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), petnames (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, submissive reader, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal, historical au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap lmao you can also read the story on my ao3 here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times- that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically. 

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check- and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option. So he lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “Please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason. 

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it. 

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you- he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability. 

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching your description, and as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do. He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. 

It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself. It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries. 

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe. But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days. 

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you- there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere. 

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.” 

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power. “Princess-” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp. 

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage. Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are. 

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error- one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach. You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night. 

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour. He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.” 

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together. “There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room. 

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised. He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. 

Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before? You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to. 

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now. 

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.” Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.” “Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death. He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you. 

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel- because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it? You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter- you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl. 

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats. You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on. 

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose- he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe. You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. 

When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning. He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want, but you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily. 

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him, that you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion no matter what anyone says. 

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand. 

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs. It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho would do if he were you, anyways. 

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?” Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You.. what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard, a man who is your fathers age at that. 

But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest. “Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation. “Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now? 

Minho was the ideal man, at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you. He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance? 

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked. You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help. 

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil, you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame. You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly, matching one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other. 

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.” 

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control. 

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin. In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. 

But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this- to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side. “You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” 

He looks you over carefully, grip on the armrests tightening. Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable? 

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.” “So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated. 

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs, and Minho is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need- all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin. He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..” He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy. 

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips. He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. 

He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows. Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck. 

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle. 

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip. If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin.

He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too. His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body. 

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing. You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. 

“Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something. You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating. 

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly. 

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your juices. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect. You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head. “Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?” 

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims. “I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”

Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers. It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women, women who knew what they were doing, but really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. 

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked- you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you. 

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question. Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. 

Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet. Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation. “You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. 

“Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss. His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin. 

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling. It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all.

“M-Minho, I’m- I’m gonna-” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence. He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.” All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. 

You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips. 

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face, your juices gushing around his fingers. He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. 

Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes. You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers. 

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head; you’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down. He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit.

“Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.” Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly. “Feels good, I just.. I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess-” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious. “Minho, I-” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.

He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop. You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please-” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble. But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you, not that you mind in the slightest; you’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you. He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release. He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust.

A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours. Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him, his arms wrapped around you snuggly and keeping you upright against his chest. 

You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek. He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow. “Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks. In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably? He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be.

You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least. “Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it. 

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same. He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided- so if you make your future husband, your father, the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

[pupcuck]

BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Lady’s man

Sanji x gardener!reader

Warnings: fluff with a bit of angst, alcohol consumption, fem reader, good ending

Word count: 2,302 words

Summary: In which Sanji could not stop flirting with everyone in front of you. This is also from my series of reader with earth powers but can be read as a stand alone

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you started to develop feelings for a man such as Sanji, a man that just has to flirt with every woman that crosses his path and comes undone when one looks his way even for just a second

“That’s not the only thing that he is ok?” You defended yourself one girls night with Nami and Robin in your room “He’s very passionate of what he does, he’s so kindhearted and is always looking out for everyone in the crew!” you said while looking down shyly -“Ah y/n I really don’t understand you! You are really romantic, sweet, beautiful and strong you deserve better than that!” Nami exclaimed taking both of your shoulders and shaking you, Robin giggled “Love is a mistery” Nami frowned as you were blushing red “But I must say” Robin spoke again, getting both of your and Namis attention “He’s quite the lady’s man and I don’t think you’re the kind of person that would brush that off easily” she looked at you kindly, Nami nodded.

And today he was really testing your patience.

You had docked at an Island, you always loved looking for markets every time you stopped and Sanji was the one in charge of restocking the fridge so you always walked together around markets, today was no different but Sanji was extra Sanji that evening, literally throwing himself at any woman that walked past you, usually you try to ignore it, you’re the kind of person to always find good in people and you knew that the cook was a good man he just couldn’t help being like he was around women, it was his flaw he’s human after all.

But oh god how it would make your stomach turn.

You sighed as you were once again left speaking to the wall as Sanji spoke flirty honeyed words to, surprise, another pretty girl in one of the stands nearby, you sighed, payed the kind man the ring you had chosen and continued walking. As you passed by the blonde man you saw as he kissed the woman’s hands

That was it, “Sanji!” you spoke loudly so he would turn your way, and he did “I am gonna join Zoro and Usopp at the bar I’m thirsty” he excused himself from the woman and walked closer to you looking a little confused “But you don’t… drink” you sighed “I just have a little headache, I’ll see you back at the Sunny!” You didn’t stick around to hear his answer and walked away.

You sat at the bar defeated, Sanji was right you don’t drink but asked for a piña colada with alcohol just to ease your anger “Are you serious? You can’t come to a bar and ask for a drink like that” Zoro mocked “Give me a break” you sighed while you massaged your temples, the swordsman examined your face, you really looked stressed out but he wasn’t one to ask about feelings and that stuff, he glanced at Usopp who just did an ‘I don’t know’ expression.

“What about you try something a liiittle stronger” Usopp offered his drink to you “Thank you man but I’m good I just want to refresh a little” you smiled softly “Whatever you say but that face doesn’t fool anyone y/n” he was right, you were really expressive especially with your face, sometimes even doing faces when you didn’t notice.

“Did that stupid cook do something to you?” You and Usopp looked at Zoro eyes wide, did he just asked you what you think he asked you?

Ever since you joined you learned that the best way to get along with the swordsman was by being in comfortable silence, you were introverted by nature so you didn’t really mind it and Zoro actually liked having someone on the ship that could be quiet. Sometimes you would go to him whenever you needed help in the fight department, asking for tips but that was really it, you had never conversed about anything outside that area of topics.

You flushed a little, flowers coming out of your hair, but before you could answer a really drunk man fell over Zoro and made him fall completely to the ground and spill his sake all over him, you gasped ‘please don’t be stupid’ you thought to yourself but it was already too late

“HEY! WATCH IT YOU MORON!” Zoro rose from the floor and took the man by his collar “Yeah what the hell was that? Do you know who we are?!” Usopp chimed in “Oh god” you covered your face in dismay

Predictably this interaction ended in a bar fight and you had to drag your stupid friends out of there before you got into a bigger trouble.

“I broke my ribs! And my feet hurt! And my knuckles are bleeding an-“

“Oh god Usopp can you just shut up! I’m literally carrying you what else do you want!” Using your earth powers, you were carrying Usopp in your back while leaves and branches held him in place, Zoro laughed out loud “And you better shut up too you were the one that got us into all of this!, you’re such stupid toddlers, I can’t believe you call yourselves pirates” not another word was said until you arrived to the Sunny

“YOU GUYS ARE FINALLY BACK!” You heard Luffy scream form the deck with a wide smile which quickly faded as he watched how you were dragging Usopp and Zoro’s ‘I got yelled at’ guilty face

As you finally got in the Sunny and left Usopp on the floor for Chopper to check up on, panting since he was quite heavy for you, Sanji rushed your way, worry plastered all over his face- “Flower what happened? Are you ok?” You were really not in the mood for talking specially to Sanji right now, you just grunted and walked away to your room, which made everyone look in absolute shock, you are usually very kind and understanding with everyone on the crew specially Sanji, so this reaction left everyone surprised “So you did something to her uh?” Zoro said nonchalant as always, Sanji looked at the swordsman angrily “What did you say?” Luffy whistled “Well whatever you did you better apologize it most have been really bad, I’ve never seen her angry before”

Sanji stood there surprised and trying to figure out what was he had said or done to you that could have possibly made you upset.

You threw yourself in bed, hands on your face as you groaned, you hated jealousy so much. You felt like it ate you away, and the worse thing? You can’t even complain about it because you were not Sanjis girlfriend.

You heard a knock on your door, you rolled your eyes as you got up “Nami, Robin, I’m really not in the mood right no-“ When you opened the door Sanji was standing there, looking unsure with your shopping bag in one hand “You left this outside” he said softly, you sighed and took it “Thank you Sanji” as you were closing the door, he stoped you with one hand looking trough the open spot with his puppy eyes that would usually melt you, not right now tho “Can I talk to you for a second… sunlight?” Oh god he really got you wrapped around his finger doesn’t he? You stop putting force on the door as you pulled away “Come in” you said almost annoyed.

Sanji entered your room hesitantly, almost like he was in a prohibited area, he took in everything he could in your room, he had never been here before. You had all your walls adorned with paintings of the sun, moon, stars, clouds and plants all over; pretty gems hanged form the ceiling and pictures of you and the crew hanged beside your mirror, he also noticed the dried flowers hanging in one of the walls. You never had on the big light on the room, you had tiny and warm lamps all over the place, so cozy, and then he saw it, Sanji froze when he noticed one of his hand written notes he had put on one of his special meals he did for you and the girls plastered in the door of your dresser, along with a dried rose he had given you when you first joined the crew.

‘Oh My God, he felt lighter and like he was about to pass out- “Sanji?” You called him, he shook his head and looked at you sitting on your bed and he remembered what he was here for, he cleared his throat “I-“ you cut him off “Sit here” you said as you patted the spot beside you. Slowly Sanji obeyed and sat beside you, your sheets looked like a mossy cloud, how fitting.

He was struggling to look at you, he frantically tried to look anywhere but your face, he took a big breath and called you by your name, no pet names, no dear attached, oh he was serious, this made you shiver “I don’t know what could have I possibly done to offend you, but I just want you to know I am really sorry and I would like to fix this” he said while looking at the floor, you shook your head slowly “Sanji look, it was honestly something really stupid and I shouldn’t have allowed it to get to me, you don’t need to worry about me, really”

“No” he turned to you now focusing on your face which surprised you a bit “Your feelings are not something stupid, I want to know what I did so I can fix it” you hesitated on telling him, because in a way it would make your feelings for the man very obvious, you were cornered.

But Sanji could read you like a book and he noticed your antics whenever you got nervous, your breath quickened and you started to play with your necklaces avoiding eye contact, and saw the grass and flowers blossoming from your feet looking for the floor.

He placed a hand on yours and took a heavy breath that you mimicked so you would ground yourself “Listen dear if you don’t want to talk about it then its fine, but I would really hate leaving you here all upset”, you sighed and surrendered.

“I know that you can’t really help flirting with women all the time” you started looking directly at his eyes so he knew you were honest “That’s part of who you are, and I am very understanding but today it really annoyed me because I couldn’t even have a proper conversation with you…” You bended to the side and pulled something out of your shopping bag “I actually got something for you” you handed him a golden ring with a beautiful design of the sun and the moon on it “Because you were to busy flirting you didn’t even payed attention to what I was showing you… I bought it anyways because I really liked it for you… so yeah, stupid right?”

The blonde cook was absolutely dumbfounded, he felt so guilty, not only had he made your time on the island unpleasant, but you were trying to shop for him while he was spinning around with other women? And still got him something? Oh god he wanted to die there and then, you truly were an angel and he didn’t deserved someone like you being nice to him

“I” he examined the ring, it was so… you “Sunlight I am really really sorry” he looked at you teary eyed which surprised you “You’re always treating me with so much sweetness and understanding and greatfullness for me to pay you like this? I am very stupid… And I absolutely adore this ring” he put it on and took your hands in his “I could promise you I’ll never do this again but you know better than that, so next time just yank me by the ear and I’ll stop being such a fool”

You really didn’t expected this response from him, he looked disappointed on himself, guilty teary eyes and shaky breath, you smiled at him, once again being your soft kind self

“Oh Sanji” you embraced him in a honest hug “Don’t worry, like I said before I understand you, you’re human, thank you for setting things yo right with me I really appreciate it, and I’m glad you liked the ring” you heard him sniffle in your ear, you pulled away to look at him “Why are you crying?!” You laughed “Hey don’t laugh at me!” He exclaimed whipping his tears away “Am not!” You laughed again which made all of Sanjis worry’s fade, your laughter was his favorite song, you took the hand were he had placed the ring you gifted him and put it in yours and examined it “It looks really good on you” you said tenderly as you made flowers blossom in his hand, this always made him nervous; the compliment made the man turn bright red, that and how close you were while sitting in your bed, in your room… he was lightheaded again.

You pulled him in yet another hug “Sanji, really it’s ok” and like that he finally realized that what he felt for you, was different, no one had ever treated him whit such tenderness and carefully as you did, like he would break by any sudden move. He returned your hug moving whit such care, like he was scared you’ll fear him and run away like a bunny. The blonde man glanced at the flower and note on the dresser and smiled ear to ear.

You were special and he had to never let you go again.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

WAAA yeah I’m making this a series so recommend me stuff you want to read about gardener!reader and Sanji, The next one I’ll post would probably be Sanjis confession ✨. English is not my first language so feel free to correct me!

[whereireid]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇 — based on this ask | masterlist

pairing: miles quaritch x fem!reader

Summary: What Colonel Quaritch misses most about planet Earth are the woman. Luckily, you're a human whose more than eager to please to your superior.

— warnings: interspecies relationship ! nsfw content MDNI: tit fucking, imbalance of power, ruts

There is nothing that Colonel Quartich misses about Earth.

Nothing but the women.

Pandora is beautiful. A world with extravagant wildlife, the nature of the planet so beautiful and blue, with specks of lilac purple and lavender hues. It's foolish to not be in awe of such beauty, and Quaritch is no fool. He is in awe of everything that Pandora has to offer.

Except the women.

The women of Pandora. The Na'vi, and the Avatars, made of carbon fibre — body hard, rigid and strong, conditioned to survive the difficult climate. Though beautiful, with specks of Aqua blue and long, delicate limbs, they're not plush. There's nothing soft about the women of Pandora.

Quaritch wishes that he could be attracted to them. Especially since a perk of being an Avatar now means he suffers through a rut — a period where he literally gets so horny that the only way to cure his arousal is to fuck something.

Anything.

Even when in a rut, though, he can't bring himself to do it. His hands will linger on an Avatar, falling on their skin, which is hard and rough, and every feeling of arousal will disappear.

Quaritch needs relief. Desperately. His hand isn't enough anymore — it just leaves him with more frustration than before he even tried.

So, when he spots you, it feels like fate.

You're a scientist, a newbie, with pinned-up hair, two curls crusading down the sides of your face, a soft smile on your lips. A soft smile, which meets your eyes and has the corners crinkling. His eyes fall, tracing your body with his eyes, and he realises that he's found exactly what he's been looking for.

Quaritch waits, and watches. He's not sure when the right time to approach even is. He's been out of the game for a long time, now — the women of Pandora don't need charisma. They're easily pleased.

So, when you approach Quaritch, he's incredibly thankful.

"Colonel," you squeak, staring up at your superior officer, your small frame practically trembling beneath him. "I was asked by some of the other members of the science team, to ask you if on your next mission to the forests of Pandora, if — if you could bring back some fresh fruit."

He blinks down at you. Once, twice. You shuffle on your feet, neck craned in an impossibly awkward position to be able to see him. You're smiling, and it doesn't waver. Not even when he scowls, and grunts, "I can."

"You — you can?"

"Do you make your other superior officers repeat themselves?" Quaritch asks, trying to ignore the discomfort in his pants when your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"No, Colonel."

"I didn't think so." He kisses his teeth, tongue darting over his fangs. "I can get you the fruit, but only if you can do something for me."

"Anything."

Quaritch smiles.

That's how he manages to sort his issues out.

You're so delicate that it drives him crazy. All sense of dignity was abandoned long ago, when he'd first made his proposal — how could you say no to somebody whose so desperate for relief? Perhaps you are, too, with your crush on the Colonel consuming you, day-in, day-out.

"You're so soft," he says, his voice so low that it sounds like he's growling. His fingers toy with your nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers, watching as your breath hitches as he does so. "Sunshine, you have got no fuckin' idea how hard you make me."

"Show me," you whisper, voice sultry and seductive, tensing as he fingers pinch at your nipples gently.

There's nothing more perfect than you. In that moment, every issue of Quaritch's erodes away. He's got you exactly where he wants you — on your knees, your tits pushed together as much as they possibly can be, his cock sheathed between them.

"That hurt, sunshine? Squeezin' 'em so tight just to please me?"

You nod your head, your lips drawn between your teeth, your eyebrows crinkled in concentration. His cock is all lubed up, making it that much more slippery. It's so soft, so plush, your tits so perfect and round. So big, on human standards, but so small in comparison to his cock.

Holy shit, you're perfect.

You let him use your tits like you're a fuck-doll. Quaritch fucks into you, rolling his hips into your tits, groaning as the squelching sounds of the lube clap around his office. They bounce, they jiggle, they take him so well, and your eyes are so focused and you're pushing your tits together so hard, just so he can get a good grip.

It makes his orgasm that much better. His cock twitches, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. There's a heat which pools in his lower belly as he finishes, painting your chest with his cum, some shooting onto your chin and lips.

You're such a pretty mess. Quaritch collects his cum from your face, pushing it between your lips, and you suck, and he groans. His cock is still nestled between your tits, basking in the softness of you, the pillow-like cushion of your flesh.

He's going to have to do this again.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hey girlie, I'm such a big fan of yours!! I think your work is PHENOMENAL, like IM LITERALLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH EVERYTIME YOU POST. So, the other day, me and my baby cousin were watching Frozen. And you know how there is this one big sweet guy that got mad because he got offended (I think his name is Oaken? You can look him up) and I IMMEDIATELY thought of König. Imagine him having his own little wooden shop( like that man from Frozen) up in the cold Alps, and one day, our dear Engel comes through the door, shivering from the big snow storm outside, saying that she's seeking shelter at least until the storm outside subsides. What would König do?

Omg this is just another cabin König to me! But with a pinch of silliness 🧚🏼‍♀️

Guy wanted some solitude after failing in life big time, he has no interest in socializing (or so he tells himself at night), he’s perfectly happy here in the middle of nowhere with no one to hold close his heart when there’s a blizzard outside…

Even hot chocolate tastes better alone, yeah, and ski trips are nice when you can set the pace yourself and admire the mountains with no one in sight. It’s not like he ever imagined a cute girl beside him on those warm sunny days when the snow looks like gelato and glitter, just the sort of thing he'd wrestle her into and then steal a kiss...

Nor does he miss the sound of soft, light-hearted giggle as he skis downhill to his cabin and heats up the sauna, wondering how lucky he is that there’s so few customers here and all of them are men. Otherwise he would have to be careful when he’s walking around in nothing but a towel–

The bell chimes, and someone comes in, of course it’s a woman, the first woman he’s seen in these parts or in his little shop ever. And here he is, sheened in sweat... Wearing only a thin white towel about his waist, the linen already wet and clinging to his thighs from the heat of the sauna.

There's an actual woman standing inside his humble tradepost, looking like a creature born from wind and snow, like a little Christmas tree decoration that has frosting all over it.

Cute little lips, a kissable mouth; that’s the first thing he notices on her, and he never thought of kissing Christmas decorations before… Men usually look like ice devils when they arrive inside his hut, but this little lady only looks like a winter night’s spirit, a little confused and lost. Her spirit eyes are glued to his junk before they rise to meet his softening stare, and who can blame her for staring when the first thing she sees upon coming in is a half naked man?

“Uh, welcome,” he manages to say while his cock gives a happy little jump under the towel as well, giving its own excited welcome to this woman.

She'd not dressed properly at all for a weather like this – why anyone would insist on wearing a dress in these temperatures is beyond him, but if he was her, uhm, brother or father, he would never have allowed her to go outside without proper winter gear.

Poor thing looks like she’s freezing to death, the bottom half of her dress coated in crystalline snow. If he had known that this lady was out there, trying to get somewhere warm, he would’ve come to her rescue at once…

“Um. Are you the shop owner…?” She asks delicately, still hugging herself from the attempt to stay warm.

“Yes. I mean, no... Uh… This is a trading post,” he stutters with his words, as if talking to women was somehow completely different than talking to men.

She furrows her brows and examines his body again, not at all interested in the items he has in stock. No woman has ever seen him in this state, no woman has ever looked at him like he’s the item here. She looks like she’s not sure if she wants to buy him or not.

“There’s also a sauna,” he says with a hint of pride in his voice, because he is damn well proud to have such luxury here. “Do you want to come…?”

“Do I want to come to the sauna…? With you?”

“No, I mean, you can go by yourself. It’s free of charge for the ladies.”

Such brazen discount he came up with just now, desperately wanting for her to stay. Besides, she needs the warmth after whatever adventure she’s been through. It would not be gallant to charge her for warming herself and getting that dress dry.

He wonders how she would look like in one of his woolen shirts. She would have to wear his clothes after the sauna, of course, he has no spare women’s clothing here. He will have to remember to be apologetic about it while presenting her with his clothes, secretly hoping they will catch her scent once she snuggles safely inside them and thanks him for everything he's done for her so far... She would probably look the cutest in his dark green knit, or the midnight blue one...

“Oh,” she says, slowly warming up to his offering. His cock is more than half hard by now, and he clasps his hands in front of it, trying to feign the movement as a casual posture shift although he’s anything but casual and relaxed.

And she’s not easy to trick; he might as well have pulled the towel away and shown her his cock in all its glory. She eyes his covered erection with a cat-like curiosity, a small little smile playing on her lips. Long lashes reveal a playful stare, slowly melting under the dim lamps of the cabin.

“I mean, of course you can come with me, if you want…”

Shit... That just came out of his mouth even if he tried to swallow the words. The inviting smile on her lips starts to quiver: she’s stifling a laugh, she’s giggling at him.

A flush rises on his cheeks, he can feel it, the erection now jumping against his palm, wildly and demandingly, as if wanting to join her in her mirth.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Aegon II Targaryen Headcanons:

❝ But… If you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied…❝

[SFW+NSFW + AFAB!Reader]

General Warnings: sad!Aegon, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of neglect

NSFW Section Warnings: pervert!Aegon, AFAB Terms, Somnophilia, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Sensory Deprivation

A/N: Still upset about his characterization in the show :/ Poor TGC was trying so hard to save this character. Appreciate that he gave us pathetic wet dog vibe for Aegon at the least

SFW Headcanons:

☀️ Aegon has desperate issues regarding love especially the idea of someone loving him. He’s been completely neglected by his father, only valued by his mother as a “rightful” king and struggles with alcoholism as a result.

☀️ Having you see him not as a ruler, not as a prince, not as a chess piece in a political game, but as a person has his mind confused.

☀️ It takes a bit of time for him to entertain the idea of you valuing him as true but once he does, he’s latched onto you like his life depends on it.

☀️ And I mean literally latched on. He is unashamed at how clingy he is to you. Arms always wrapped around you in the hall and keeping his eyes to yours.

☀️ Aegon is only willing to listen to you without complaining too much. Maybe a whine or two but he’s totally whipped so he’s on his way to do as you ask.

☀️ He’d LOVE for you to meet Sunfyre. If you are unaccustomed to dragons, he makes sure to slowly introduce you because he wants you to love his dragon as much as he does.

☀️ Always dreams about running away with you. He’ll be cuddling with you and ask about it. Even if it was impossible, he’d like to dream about going off somewhere in Essos, away from the throne.

☀️ “Love, simply listen to me… Imagine it. We could run off on the first ship out of this blasted kingdom. It could be just us…”

☀️ Alicent would simultaneously love and hate you. She enjoys the company of women and finally, someone has found a way to handle Aegon. But, she’d also be weary of this on account of her father because Aegon being infatuated with you means he’s more willing to listen to you than his council.

☀️ Rather than ditch his duties to attempt escapes, to drink or to whore, he’s sneaking off to see you if it’s been too long. He insists you stay by him during meetings or other duties to keep him from “going mad”.

☀️ Aegon can get very jealous when he sees you with other men because he knows what they’re thinking when they look at you. But you are his. No one else’s.

☀️ And considering he’s the firstborn and a prince, he has absolutely no problem getting petty because there would be no serious consequences. (Bonus tag team with Aemond.)

☀️ Aegon’s main Love Languages to give are: Physical Touch and Quality Time.

☀️ Aegon is obsessed with your body completely. He wants to do everything to have you in his arms.

☀️ He is unashamed with PDA. He’s kissing you almost every couple of minutes. He’s walking down the halls all smiles because he’s holding your hand.

☀️ Aegon’s need for you is constant and his mood quickly sours if he’s pulled away from duty rather than being able to spend his time with you.

☀️ He’d whisk you away onto Sunfyre for a joyride just so he can be away from everyone but you. Consider it a romantic gesture because in his mind it is.

☀️ He thinks it’s like when the knight saves the princess in the stories.

☀️ Lingers in the mornings just so he can have you by him for longer. The sun is hurting his eyes this early in the morning so what better than to bury his head in your chest and softly ask you to stay as he caresses your perfect body.

☀️ Aegon’s favorite Love Languages to receive are: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation.

☀️ Aegon wants to feel special. To feel taken care of. To feel loved. So anytime you go out of your way to assist him, his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you.

☀️ You tidied the bedchamber? Have prepared his clothing? You’ve had his sword cleaned and polished? You’re practically begging for this man to be completely and utterly obsessed and he’s littering you in kisses in appreciation.

☀️ And, of course, he wants praise. No one has validated him and simply valued him as a person so he yearns for your words.

☀️ Something as simple as “I’m proud of you” has him close to shedding tears because no one tells him that.

☀️ He wants to hear you say “I love you” as much as possible so he’ll say it all the time just to hear you say it back.

NSFW Headcanons:

☀️ At first, he has to be dominant and take control. He’s been cut out of having control in all other aspects of his life that he needs some semblance of power.

☀️ You can trust that he knows what he’s doing. Although some of his fucking has been done while drunk, he’s done it and experimented enough to know what gets him off and what gets you off.

☀️ Only after some time will he trust to submit himself in bed. It’s scary to him. To lose control in another aspect of his life. But he trusts you and he loves you.

☀️ And surprisingly, being so slow, gentle and loving to him, it felt amazing. Having you ride him, hands interlocked and meeting each other’s eyes.

☀️ His favorite part of you are your tits. Seeing them bounce as you ride him, needing to touch and feel them.

☀️ He whimpers and cries when he’s getting close, begging you not to stop. He’s clearly needy just by the way he’s grabbing onto any part of you that you let him.

☀️ When he’s more comfortable with being submissive, he’s whiny in his needs. Tugging at your gown anytime you two are alone, insisting he needs to at least have a look.

☀️ “Please, my love… Please! Just one look! Gods, you have no idea how much I crave you.”

☀️ Aegon’s hand would try to slip under your gown under the table at dinner, insist that only he needs to assist you in bathing which is definitely just an excuse to fuck, and just straight up jack off when you two are alone in your bedchamber, pleading for you to touch him.

☀️ Aegon could definitely cum with the punishment of only being able to hump at your leg. The humiliation of being so desperate gets him off like nothing else.

☀️ He can be bratty sometimes but it’s all purposeful. He wants you to punish him because you both know it leads to being tangled around each other in bed.

☀️ Oh, and Aegon is absolutely unashamed about being loud. The louder the better in his opinion. He wants everyone and anyone to know how fucking good you two fuck and for how long.

☀️ He’d leave whatever chamber you two were in with a smug grin, knowing that no one could match the passion you two share.

☀️ Aegon has average stamina and lasts as long as you edge him for. He could go 2-3 a times a day and still ask for more even when he’s a shaking mess.

☀️ Sit on this man’s face. Period. No questions asked. If he can breathe, he isn’t satisfied. Suffocate him entirely, clamp onto his head with your thighs and watch him eat you out like a starved madman.

☀️ Aegon is a whore for praise and he makes it known when he’s giving you head. He gets so easily pussy drunk it’s insane. His eyes are locked onto you, only parting from your swollen, abused cunt to hear how well he’s doing.

☀️ “My love… Please tell me how well I’m doing… I’m being good, am I not?”

☀️ One of his favorite things would be longer sessions where he’s blindfolded and completely up to your control. Have fun with waxplay and sensory deprivation and watch his cock twitch and leak precum at each touch.

☀️ Sometimes you’d wake up to him already rubbing his cock against your cunt, feeling the wetness already coating him. His forehead pressed to your back as he softly moaned. It’s so easy for him to get turned on when you’re so close to him.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune