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morallyinept · 2 months

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Pump - A Javier Peña One Shot

Summary: A man starts coming into the gym where you work, and you find you can't keep your eyes off him when he starts to pump...

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN!Reader (No name, defined sex or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.6k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️ “Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: PWP/Javi wearing the tiniest satin shorts ever made/cock outline/possible peek of a ball/very pervy thoughts over a very sweaty Javi 🥵

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I saw this amazing fanart today of Javi, and the thots just thotted the fuck out of me... 🫠

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His visits are the fucking highlight of your day.

You find yourself searching for him as you meander through the gym with an added bounce in your step, stack of laundered towels in hand as you drop them around the equipment like newspapers tossed on garden lawns.

Rows of clunky weightlifting machines stand proudly, their chrome frames gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights.

Tattered, vinyl-covered benches line the perimeter of the room, each one bearing the marks of countless hours of use by sweaty bodies and muscled lunkheads striving for physical perfection.

The sound of heavy metal plates clinking together fills the air as the group of agents, from the local DEA office across the steamed pavement street, load up barbells and dumbbells, their focused expressions a melee of pinched, taut brows and refined muscles.

Despite the seriousness of their profession, the moderately sized gym is a tatty haven where they can unwind and bond over their shared passion for catching dangerous narcos and pumping iron in machismo camaraderie.

The walls in Manny’s Gym are adorned with curled edge motivational posters featuring slogans like No Pain, No Gain and Train Hard, Fight Easy, with iconic muscle men of the current era plastered over them like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Franco Columbu, and Lou Ferrigno, serving as constant reminders of the grit and determination required to succeed in both the gym and the field.

The air is always thick with the unmistakable scent of musky sweat, mingling with the earthy aroma of old leather from well-worn punch bags that hang from the ceiling like dangling scrotums swaying in a pendulous rhythm.

Steamy showers and weak powdery deodorant permeates. It’s a heady concoction that hints at the countless hours of exertion and dedication that's saturated the space.

A scent that you’re all too familiar with and breathe in like starved oxygen.

The wooden floor creaks beneath your sneakers as you make your way further into the gym, the sound echoing off the walls.

As you approach the rows of clunky weightlifting machines, the tangy scent of metal fills your nostrils, accompanied by the faint whiff of oil used to lubricate the gears.

Despite his gruff exterior, Manny himself hosts a warm and welcoming demeanour to the regular gym goers, always ready with a word of encouragement, or a pat on the back for those who train under his roof.

He takes great pride in the sense of community that’s flourished within the gym, fostering a supportive environment where the local Bogotá law and DEA alike choose to pump here.

It’s not exclusive, your regular Joe Sixpack will frequent on occasion, but the familiar faces make it far more easy on the eye as you bask in the array of sweaty limbs on the daily.

They give you wolf-whistles and jeers as you shimmy on by handing out towels and sweat bands with a beaming, enticing smile.

But you don’t pay them no mind when they flirt back and grin with glistening rows of hungry teeth like you’re ripe for the plucking. A juicy peach bobbing in a swamp full of toothless alligators. They're physically respectful despite their obvious leers.

Most of them aren't really your type anyway. Stiff, upper pale bodies with honeyed hair falling in waves; the Americans are all the same Mattel crafted hard plastic.

Whereas you prefer something more dark and velvety rich like Colombian coffee that goes down easy and smooth and leaves a heady aftertaste on your lips.

There's one man in particular you'd like to drink down, whom you’ve noticed coming in a few times in recent weeks.

It’s hard to forget him with those tiny, satin shorts he wears in a stark canary yellow, and riding dangerously high up his lean, caramel thighs.

A break in the tight denim jeans that wrap around his legs when you’ve spied him leaving the gym, freshly clean and dressed after a hard workout, and heading back into the office.

Package stuffed tight up in there, poor thing; the brilliant tightness restricting and choking around that hefty bulge all day.

A neatly trimmed moustache adorns his upper lip, thick and fluffy, adding a touch of rugged charm to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. His standard issue DEA gym t-shirt seems a little on the small side, hugging around his golden biceps and riding skintight across the broadest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen on a man his size; a complete opposing parallel to the trimness of his waist. He’s like an inverted triangle.

It rides up a little over his tiny belly; a galaxy of dark hairs trailing down into his shorts that makes you lick your lips every time your eyes fall onto that hairy column.

His dark brown hair, slicked back slightly and curling on the nape, glistens with sweat, adding to his aura of intensity and focus. He exudes an effortless confidence as he moves from one exercise to the next.

The Latino-looking man focuses on a combination of strength training and cardio, showcasing his versatility and athleticism needed for the job he does.

And you find yourself enthralled in his routine, interrupting yours as you covertly watch him from behind the small desk trying not to flood it with your drool.

He usually starts with a set of heavy deadlifts; the sound of his puffs hissing through his teeth and reverberating through the gym as he lifts with perfect form.

Next, he moves on to explosive plyometric jumps. Clad in those tiny, satin shorts that hug his muscular thighs, his powerful legs propel him effortlessly into the air before landing with precision. You can’t help but watch as the muscles and cords in his thighs ripple with each slam of his soles on the floor.

Throughout his workout, he maintains a steely determination and laser-like focus with punishing chocolate eyes, pushing himself to the limit with each repetition; sweat glistening around his brow and temples and falling in tracks.

Despite the intensity of his workouts, there’s a relaxed confidence in his demeanour, reflected in the easy, fluid movements of his svelte body as he moves through the reps.

You watch his back move and shift, broad shoulder blades folding in and out as they flex under the snug fit of his fading t-shirt. His posture is upright and nonplussed, conveying a sense of self-assurance.

Standing at an average height, his frame is lean, yet powerful, and you can’t help but let your thoughts drift into murky territories as your eyes wander all over him and drink him up like a quenching soda on a sweltering day.

You know very little about him, only hearing his name muttered by the other agents as he addresses them pre-work, out or when they stop mid-way through to discuss, what you can only assume, is the cases they’re working on.

The dusty jukebox in the corner playing the current Billy Idol hit drowns them out somewhat at this distance.

But they call him Peña, or Javi as they sometimes greet him through lazy Spanish chit-chat.

He called you cariño once as he passed, mouthing a good morning to you with little effort.

He speaks with a soft, deep cadence; a gravelled grizzle wrapped around his pert lips, which is almost muted and out of full earshot.

But the one thing that's unmistakably loud and clear, is the grunting that pelts out of him.

Particularly when he does bench presses, or those barbell squats with the large weight resting on his shoulders. A deep, guttural grunt ruts out of him that sets your skin alight and makes your genitals want to break out the pompoms and start cheering his name doing high kicks.

They flow unabashed out of him as he pants and hisses. And you like it when he does those squats the most, watching as he parts his feet steady, and slowly lowers his pert ass down towards the floor, rendering those tiny shorts to almost disappear entirely into the rounded crack of his cheeks.

Fuck...

Javi focuses on his reflection in the mirror, lips curled back under that buoyant dark fluff lining his top lip, and teeth clenched in a snarl as he breathes out and grunts loudly with every push upwards from those strong thighs that tense and quiver.

As you observe him from across the gym, you can't ignore the undeniable attraction you feel towards him as it licks up your spine; it makes you clench and sweat just watching him and the fantastic sex-like faces he makes in the mirror.

His sculpted physique and rugged good looks are certainly appealing, but your eyes betray you and head further south at the constant movement inside his flimsy shorts.

Gaudy in their brightness, you see past them at the way they flout their thinness like they’re almost fucking see-through. You like the tease of how low they sit on his svelte hips. A simple tug and they’ll be round his ankles with ease.

You can make out the perfect outline of his heavy, flaccid cock hanging between his legs. Curves and ridges imprinted against the material like muscle memory. Flopping about so uncouthly as he moves like it’s battering you in the face.

Jesus fucking Christ.

With your task temporarily forgotten and brain slowly sluicing out of your ears, the sight of his cock outlining around the thin satin draws you in further. A third arm beckoning you in. Punching against the material with every movement from his hips as though you're mesmerised and drunk on the wildly pornographic view.

You’re pretty certain he’s not wearing any underwear, which is only confirmed by a fuzzy, pink sack peeping out at you some time later when he works on the bench, and draws his leg up.

You swallow dryly as you stare at it, and wonder instantly what it would taste like as you imagine running your mouth around its swell.

Tasting damp, matted pubic hairs sticking to your tongue, with a salted sweat and mixture of his own masculine musk on your tastebuds, and the more you ponder it, the more it makes your mouth water.

You just want to push him back on the bench, naked from the waist down except for his faded white sneakers on, ribbed thick socks pulled up to his shins, and spread his legs wide.

You want to slide your inquisitive tongue all over those sweaty, heavy balls of his and watch his cock throb and pulse before taking it deep into your throat.

A tight clench and a hiss. A pucker of a fluttering hole as you tease it with your tongue. Lips and hips bruised in unison.

Googly frog eyes stare out at him in wonder. A noise at the back of your throat registers, something inhuman between a gulp and a hiccup as he rises up again off the bench.

Humming and sighing audibly as he presents that ass out at you, shorts flapping around his cock lewdly in the mirror’s reflection as he squats again.

As you observe him from across the gym, you feel the pull of heavy want flooding your body in a stifling and suffocating heat. It makes your toes tingle and your heart thrum a bit harder. White noise steams inside your ears.

The dull, aching throb between your own legs makes you shift uncomfortably in the chair as you gulp and swallow at the spectacle.

With each lift of the weights and every drop of sweat that glistens on his brow and moustache, you find your mind sinking further into a perverted swamp of lust and unbridled thoughts running amok over your amygdala.

In your mind, Javi’s pushing you up against the mirror, face crushed against it, trailing bites down on the back of your slick neck like a dog in heat. Your breath fogging against the reflective sheet as he pins your wrists to it with his hands, leaving misty fingerprint smears on the polished glass.

You can taste the sweat on his top lip, fuzzy and damp, and it's damn delicious as he pushes his crotch into your ass. Hard and thick under those flimsy, lacquer-like shorts, leaking a patch of pre-cum soaking into them that blooms and darkens the silk.

His hands let go of your wrists and work their way down your arms, tickling gently and sending prickles to bubble and blister against your burning skin. He skims over your belly and hovers above your waistband; his hot breath inside your ears in gaspy, mouthed moans as he breathes out.

He whispers how much he wants you, how much he wants everyone to watch him fuck you up agasint this mirror, before he slips his nimble, thick fingers down inside the front of your shorts, grinding and rubbing himself against you.

He’s pulling down his satin shorts to let his hard, thick cock bounce out at you, pumping its uncut, rosy head inside his giant hand. Weeping and sticky, it shines at you as his fingers and thumb smear in the secretions, and you watch as he licks his fingers free of his own greased drippings.

You lick your lips ready for a taste as he guides the bulbous head towards your mouth as you sink, thudding to your knees. Feel him weighty and warm in your palm, squeezing just under the head and sliding the skin back to reveal that succulent bulb as you lick the tip and taste glassy bubbles flowing from him before swallowing him down deep.

Suck it, cariño, yeah like that… Tómalo todo. Trágatelo profundo. Si… aah, si. Fuck... (Take it all. Swallow it deep. Yes, aah yes.)

Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice when Javi actually glances in your direction; his dark eyes meeting yours briefly with a knitted brow and pink pout, before returning to his workout.

The brief exchange sends a thrill of wanton excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of curiosity and anticipation that you can't ignore as it pulls tight between your legs and makes you pulse.

As the DEA agent finishes his workout and begins to gather his belongings - he carries a modest blue duffle bag, although never takes anything out of it's fullness - you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving you so riled up for another day.

He grabs his worn water bottle and squeezes a stream of water into his mouth, swallowing deep and plentiful mouthfuls of the jet, and wipes at his lips with the back of his hand when some of it trickles down his smoothly shaved chin.

You watch him pick up the towel you’d laid out, wipe his face off and that onyx-like stare is in your direction again. Two pools of dark tar sucking you in.

A wet, slithery thought creeping in between your ears makes a mental note to take that towel when he's done and defile the fuck out of it.

He finds something in your eyes, perhaps something that excites him, or repulses him. You’re not sure. You’re yet to embark on any formal conversation beyond a simple greeting out of politeness.

As Javi makes his way towards you, passing the desk towards the showers, you're convinced you see a small smirk prick at the corners of his lips.

Another wanton thought bolts its way into the filthy pit of your mind. You see yourself rising up on the balls of your feet in the shower block and presenting your behind out to him and he bends you over further to touch your toes.

You feel his grip around your waist as he slides in and packs you out, stretching you around him. Knees buckling and being drowned by the spray from above as he fucks you hard against the cool, mildewed tiles in the shower block.

You feel like your spine will crack with the pressure, but you don’t care as he pulls you back, hammering up into you. Fingers grazing around your throat, teeth biting into the ball of your wet shoulder.

So fucking tight, just like I love it, baby...

You're gasping his name as your orgasm rips through you and he spills himself inside of your hole with Spanish expletives howling in your ear.

His thick, plentiful come seeps out of you; leaking, pouring. So much pumped into you as he grunts into your ear - shuddering with a high-octane thrill as his moustache tickles against your skin.

You’ll think about this again - about him - when you're at home later; that towel shoved between your legs and soaked with your own leakings.

You catch the hazy scent of Javi as he passes by the desk, subtly inhaling the stench of his sweat; an intoxicating, potent blend of musk and masculinity that leaves you feeling breathless.

A primal aroma that grabs you by the lapels to shake the cock-addled stupid out of you as you catch a glimpse of that package swaying and bobbing around in his tiny flaxen shorts to torment you further.

And once more you swallow around a constricted gulp as he meets your wandering gaze.

“Hasta la próxima vez, cariño.” (See you next time, honey.) He simply husks, as he tosses his duffle bag over his shoulder and struts towards the showers.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this sweaty story. Please consider re-blogging so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #narcos #jett's writing

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rynwritesstuff · 5 months

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Unknown

Billy The Kid x Reader

Warnings: Feisty!Reader, General outlaw stuff (guns, cursing, threats), Mentions of sex work/brothels, Smut (PIV sex, unprotected sex, rough sex), Hint of fluff, Imprisonment, Jailbreak

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: After discovering Billy Antrim one night, you persuade him to travel with you. A wild and interesting adventure ensues.

Author's Note: I've spent the past several weeks reading the most incredible Billy x Reader fics, and I wanted to try my hand at writing for him. I wanted to tag a few of my favorite Billy writers, because they have inspired me to give this a try. (Thank you @billysgun @atrwriting and @goosita you guys are incredible, I admire you so much, keep doing what you're doing <3)

“It ain’t the being alone. It ain’t the empty home, baby, you know I’m good on my own. You know, it’s more the being unknown. So much of the living, love, is the being unknown.” - Unknown / Nth, Hozier

When he hears it – the footsteps – Billy’s head snaps to the side. A million thoughts run through his head. Robbers, outlaws, all-around no good men . . . They could be anywhere. They could be everywhere. Slowly, carefully, he reaches for the gun at his hip. He barely has time to touch it before the sound of a gun cocking comes from behind him. He pauses.

“Don’t. Move,” comes your voice. Billy swallows harshly as he freezes. It’s dark aside from the campfire in front of him and the moon and stars sparkling in the sky. Billy keeps his breathing even and steady as footsteps come closer.

“I need money,” you say.

“You’ve got the wrong man, miss,” Billy says, unmoving. “I’ve got nothin’.”

“Food, then. Got any food?”

Billy nods towards the small pot beside the fire.

“There’s a bit left over there.”

You circle him, and when you do, he catches a glimpse of your face, slightly shielded by an old hat. Your hair is pulled back and you wear men’s clothing. Your too-big boots thud against the grass. Even like this, Billy can tell that you're beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would bring a God-fearing man to his knees.

You keep your gun pointed at him as you look down into the pot and then back up at BIlly.

“It’s not enough.”

“It’s what I’ve got.”

“You’re lying,” you say easily. “You’re in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way you came this far with so little food. You think I’m an idiot, boy?”

“No,” Billy shakes his head. “I mean it. That’s the last of my food.”

You chuckle dryly, then approach Billy.

“Keep your hands up,” you warn. You tug his gun from his holster, then step back towards the fire. Billy is now completely unarmed. He couldn’t shoot you even if he wanted to. You crouch down beside the pot. It’ll have to do, you decide, and reach in with your bare hand to scoop up the beans and bring them to your mouth. You sigh. They’re salty and warm and earthy, and they soothe the ache in your stomach.

Billy moves slightly, you see him out of the corner of your eye, and you bring your gun up again. He freezes.

“I was just shiftin’,” he tells you. Wordlessly, you look back down at the pot and continue to eat. Billy watches you curiously. Where are you coming from? Where are you going? And, perhaps most importantly, who are you on the run from?

“Billy the Kid,” you say finally, wiping your hand on the grass as you get to your feet. “Hm. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“Do I know you?” Billy asks.

“No. But damn near everyone in the West knows you. Ya shouldn’t be surprised.” You slowly make your way over to his horse. You open his saddle bag as Billy turns to watch you. You pull out his shotgun, humming to yourself. You set it aside, and Billy’s heart begins to race.

“The ring,” he says quickly, making you pause, “please don’t take it. It was my ma’s.”

You halt. How strange it is, to hear William Antrim speak so desperately. You stare at him as you pull the small gold band from his bag. You hold it in your palm, and Billy watches you with a pained expression.

“Please. She’s gone, she’s dead. It’s all I got left of ‘er.”

You shake your head.

“I’m not heartless, Billy,” you say, and Billy nearly laughs. No, woman holding me at gunpoint, he thinks. Of course you’re not.

“I’ve lost people, too,” you tell him. You toss the ring to him, and he catches it, clutching it tightly. “I’ll advise you to keep it closer to you, though. People like me aren’t always so understanding.”

You go back to digging through his bag but don't find much; an apple, a pocket watch, a few shirts and a pair of pants. You huff, keeping only the apple, and shove everything back into the saddle bag, including the shotgun.

“You’re shit out of luck, Billy,” you say, stepping towards him as you bite into the apple. You wipe a bit of juice from the corner of your mouth. “No food, no water–”

“I have water.”

“Oh, well excuse me, then. I apologize,” you say sarcastically. Billy clenches his jaw. You sit down a good five feet away from Billy, gun still in-hand as you eat the apple.

“God, fuck,” you breathe. Billy glances at you. “Haven’t had fruit in a month.”

“Neither have I,” Billy says flatly.

“Mm. As I was sayin’ . . . You’re kinda fucked right now. Where’re you headed?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Liar,” you say. You’re confident while you have the gun in your hand, and although you know that Billy could scramble for his shotgun, you also know that you could blow his head off before he got there. If he tries something, anything, he’s a dead man. He must know it, too.

“The next town over,” Billy says finally. “I need somewhere to stay for a while.”

“It’s about fifteen miles East,” you say. You bite into the apple again. “You know where you’re going? How to get there?”

“I prefer to travel alone,” Billy says as he watches you. For a moment, a small, brief, fleeting moment, he wonders what you look like beneath the tattered button-up shirt. He’s only slept with a handful of women, and it’s been a long while since he’s touched himself, much less had someone else touch him. He swallows harshly.

You lap your tongue over the dripping apple to gather the juice, then speak.

“Right. Well, I need a man to come with me East. Nobody takes women seriously in that town, I was there a while back.”

“Surely you don’t want to risk being recognized, then,” Billy says. You chuckle.

“Unlike you, Antrim, I’m moving from town to town by choice. I've got nothing to hide.”

Well. That seems to answer Billy’s questions. He sighs, then looks away. Perhaps this is a good thing. Maybe a woman is what he needs. A fiery, feisty woman who will try to keep him in-line.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks.

You shrug.

“Money, probably. Food. A roof over your head.”

“Until I get caught.”

“I’ll try to keep you out of trouble if you promise to try, too.”

Billy looks over at you.

“I don’t even know your name.”

You smile softly, looking at him kindly for the first time all evening. You tell him your name, and when you do, he tests how it feels to say it. You nod.

“Right,” you say. “Ya got it.”

Billy hums.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” he says.

“No,” you say, tossing him back his gun. “I’d hope not. You wouldn’t be a very good outlaw if you trusted someone that easily.”

Billy slips his gun back into his holster, feeling better now that he has his firearm again. You take another bite of the apple.

“Let’s leave at dawn,” you tell him. Billy still isn’t completely convinced that this is a good idea, but he doesn’t want to argue. He doesn’t want to upset you or set you off.

“Fine,” he says. You nudge him.

“Where are those manners you had a bit ago?” you tease, tossing the apple core aside. “‘Miss’ and ‘ma’am’. Your mama raised you right.”

“Yes, ma’am, she did,” Billy says, offering you a small, teasing smile.

***

Dawn comes, as it always does. You wake before Billy, and take it upon yourself to tidy up his things from the night before. The pot is washed and the fire is out when Billy’s eyes open, and he glances around for a moment. He sees you, and you offer him a nod.

“Get up,” you tell him as you guide his horse over. “I’d like to get there as soon as possible.”

Billy groans softly as he sits up on the blanket that separates him from the grass.

“You don’t have a horse? You came all this way on foot?”

You sigh, leaning against Billy’s horse.

“She got stolen a few miles back,” you say. “I was surprised they didn’t get yours, too.”

“Mm. Sorry to hear that,” he says as he folds up the blanket and attaches it to his saddle bag. You shake your head.

“Not much that can be done about it now. Ya ready to go, Billy?”

He nods as he puts on his hat and approaches his horse. He holds his hand out to you and helps you up onto the saddle. He knows that you can get up yourself, but you shouldn’t have to do such a thing. Not when there’s a man around to help you.

Knowing that you won’t both fit on the saddle, Billy decides to walk. You watch him as he guides his horse. The muscles in his strong arms flex as he goes, and you find yourself staring at him more than the scenery around you. You know what this likely means, of course, but you don’t want to think about it.

You don’t want to complicate things.

Hours pass. The pair of you reach a town. Dust is kicked up as Billy’s horse trots through, and people bustle busily. You glance around. People stare at the two of you, and you wonder if it’s because they recognize Billy, or perhaps you from when you were here previously. You wipe sweat from your brow.

“There’s a brothel that way,” you say, pointing to the right. “Rooms are cheap there.”

“I thought you didn’t have much money,” Billy says, guiding his horse in the direction you pointed in.

“I don’t,” you say. “But I have enough for us to stay somewhere for a week or so.”

You hear Billy sigh, and you clench your jaw.

“You got a better idea?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it,” you say. Men are so finicky, you think. You arrive at the brothel just after noon, and you get off the horse. Billy goes to follow you, and you hold your hand up.

“Don’t. You’ll get swarmed by whores. Just stay here, let me do the talking.”

Billy’s brow furrows slightly.

“What if there’s trouble?” he asks. You tap the gun holstered at your hip.

“I can handle myself.”

Without another word, you head into the brothel. You locate the owner and speak to her about a room for you and your friend. Just as you remembered, the rooms are cheap, cheap enough for you to rent a room for longer than you thought you’d be able to. You pay the owner, then step back outside.

“Get our stuff,” you tell Billy. “I’ll take your horse to the stable.”

Wordlessly, Billy obeys, gathering the bags before you lead his horse around the building. He steps inside. Just as you predicted, a few whores approach him.

They gush at him, telling him how incredibly handsome he is, and how he must be tired, and how he looks like he needs a good blowjob. He politely turns them down, his cheeks warming slightly. One of the whores, a blonde woman, runs her hand over his chest. He tries not to stare at her bare breasts.

“You stayin’ awhile?” she asks. Billy nods. She hums. “Come n’ see me sometime, won’t ya?”

Billy offers her a kind smile.

“I’m a busy man, I’m afraid. Don’t have time for that.”

He hears footsteps behind him, and moments later, he’s being tugged towards the stairs of the brothel.

“Told ya they’d flock to you,” you say as you and Billy go up to the room. You unlock the door.

“They’re just doing their job,” he says as he steps into the room and sets the bags down. You sigh as you re-lock the door. You put your hands on your hips as you walk around the room, inspecting it. It’s not nice by any means, but it’s a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in, and that’s enough for now.

“I’ll take the floor,” he offers. You glance at him. “Y’know. When we sleep.”

You shake your head with a sigh as you take off your hat.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I don’t particularly care if we share a bed,” you say. Billy doesn’t say anything. You glance at him. He’s staring at you. “What?”

Just as he had noticed last night, you’re beautiful. And if you look this nice like this, he can only imagine what you’d look like all dolled up, or even just freshly bathed. He wonders what it would be like to touch you, to feel you beneath him, to have your body canting up towards his.

He shakes his head slightly.

“Nothing. Just . . . Nothing.”

“If you want the floor, you can have it–”

“No, no, I don’t mind either,” he says. You sit down at the edge of the bed, then lie back on it with a drawn-out sigh.

“I’m gonna sleep good tonight,” you chuckle. Billy finds himself smiling softly.

“Is it comfortable?” he asks. You laugh again.

“Not at all, but it’s better than the ground.”

Billy approaches the bed and sits down beside you, leaving a gap between your bodies. He bounces a bit, and the bed frame squeaks. He hums as he stops.

“Well?” you ask, looking up at him.

“You’re right, it’s awful.”

You hum, rubbing your eyes.

“I know.” You sigh. “Why don’t you go downstairs and eat?”

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“Take a bath,” you say. Billy nods. He knows he should bathe too, especially if he’s going to be sleeping beside you, but he’s so, so hungry . . .

“I’ll go after you, then,” he says, getting to his feet. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Hang on.”

Billy pauses, glancing back at you as you sit up. You gesture for him to come back towards the bed. He obliges. There is a foot or so of space between your bodies, and you look up at him with a twinkle in your eye. You know what you want to tell him, but you don’t know how to say it. You know what you want to do, but you don’t know how to get there.

“You’re the most handsome outlaw I’ve dealt with, y’know,” you say finally, voice soft. Billy is surprised but most certainly not disappointed. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“How many outlaws have you dealt with?” Billy asks.

“Quite a few.”

He hums.

“I suppose that means I should be thanking you, then," he says. You reach out and tug on his belt loops, pulling him closer. You put your hands on his hips and look up at him.

“Yes. You should.”

Billy leans down a bit.

“Thank you, then, miss,” he says quietly. You feel his breath against you, and you let out a soft sigh as heat blooms between your thighs. Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to touch his cheek. You feel the stubble near his chin and jaw as you look into his eyes.

“Can I–?”

“You don’t even havta ask,” Billy tells you softly. He leans forward and presses his lips against yours. You inhale sharply as you pull him closer. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like a man dying. You touch him wherever you can: His cheeks, his jaw, the sides of his throat, his shoulders. He gets on top of you as you scoot back on the bed. You keep one of your hands on the back of his head, which ensures that his lips stay pressed against yours while the two of you move and adjust.

Billy tosses his hat to the side, and once he’s done that, you tug at his suspenders. You push them off of his shoulders, and you spread your legs a bit more to make room for him to comfortably fit between them. He kisses you again, hot and heavy, and you moan against his lips.

“Please,” you sigh. He nods as he unbuttons your shirt.

“I’ve got ya,” Billy reassures you. You kiss him as a sense of safety and security washes over you. He’s got you. He’s got you. You let him unbutton your shirt, and when your breasts are revealed, he leans down to kiss at them. You sigh at the feeling of his chapped lips on your smooth skin. You shrug the shirt all the way off so that your torso is bare, then run your fingers through his dark curls.

“Billy,” you sigh, eyes fluttering. He hums. You want to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. You grab his collar and pull him back up so you can kiss him. You fumble with his buttons, and when you get his shirt off, you yank off his undershirt, too. You grip his bare shoulders, your hands running down to his biceps.

“Fuck,” you breathe. He smiles softly.

“Like what ya see?” he asks. You nod.

“Sure do,” you tell him. When he stands back to undo his trousers, you quickly kick off your boots and stand up to push down your pants to leave you nude. You get on the bed once you’re naked, and when Billy looks back up at you, cock in-hand, he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, a sound of pleasure. You smile as you spread your legs, feeling a bit bashful but excited nonetheless.

Billy says your name, then. It’s a whisper, a sigh, a prayer. He gets back on top of you, and his dripping cock presses against you as he leans down to kiss you. You groan.

“I want you inside me,” you tell him, giving his hair a gentle tug. He nods, pressing his tip against your entrance. He looks up at you, silently asking for permission, and you smile softly.

“Billy, I love that you’re bein’ a gentleman, but I really need you to ruin me right now. We can be polite to each other later, okay?” you tell him. This makes him chuckle, a quiet, hearty sound, and he nods.

“Okay,” he says, pushing his tip in. “Understood.”

You hum, hands moving down to his biceps. You grip him tightly as he pushes in further.

“Oh, fuck, Billy . . .”

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head.

“No, no, just go slow at first. Ease it in, y’know?”

Billy nods.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes teasingly, pushing in further. Your wetness coats his cock easily, and he groans at the feeling of your wet heat engulfing him. “Jesus ffffuckin’ . . .”

Your grip on him tightens as he pushes his cock all the way inside of you. You moan softly as his tip presses against the sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh, god,” you hum. “Mm, Billy . . . Move . . .”

His hand fits into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and he holds you there as he begins to roll his hips. He is slow at first, gentle, but his pace quickly picks up. The bed frame creaks and groans, and you moan loudly.

“How is it?" he asks breathily, wanting to hear your praise.

“F-Feels good,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot. Your legs and thighs tremble. Your breasts bounce. Your heart races. Billy’s body is firm and strong above you, and his hold on you tightens. You lean up to kiss him, moaning against his lips.

“So needy,” Billy says against your mouth. You moan. “Mm. S-So wet for me . . . Needed this bad, didn’t ya?”

You nod, clinging to him as if you’re the only thing keeping him here, as if he could disappear at any moment and leave you aching for more.

“Ohmygod, Billy . . . F-Faster, I need it faster . . .”

“Mm . . . Ask nicely . . .”

His words go straight to your core, and you clench around him just to hear him grunt. You reach up to tug at his hair, and he turns his head to suck at your jaw. You let him.

“Please,” you sigh. “P-Please, Billy . . . Make me f-feel good . . . Fuck me f-faster . . .”

Billy hums as he pulls away from your jaw.

“Atta girl,” he breathes. He’s pounding you, now, fucking you so hard that you begin to worry that the damn bed with break. People can probably hear you, but it’s a fucking brothel, you remind yourself, and you cry out loudly. Your face is hot as Billy’s hips slam against yours. He’s grunting and groaning, and his brows are furrowed in pleasure, and you’re positive that it’s the most wonderful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, fffffuck. Billy, B-Billy, Billy . . .”

“Mm, that’s it,” he groans lowly. “Let everyone know who it is that’s makin’ you feel good.”

Your grip on his hair tightens, and he bites and sucks at your throat as he chases his orgasm quickly. Clumsily and shakily, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Your hips jerk and tears of pleasure fill your eyes as you begin to rub yourself hurriedly. You know Billy is close – his thrusts are getting sloppy – and you want to cum, too.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Billy admits. He reaches for your hand that isn’t on your clit, which surprises you. His fingers intertwine with yours, and he pins you down. He’s holding my hand. He’s about to cum, and he’s holding my hand, you think. Somehow, this small act feels more intimate than anything else the two of you have done in the past several minutes.

“Billy . . . ‘M gonna cum,” you breathe. He nods against you.

“Do it,” he says, encouraging you. “Please. Wanna feel it.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back. Billy kisses and nibbles at your throat again, his thrusts get harder and faster, and you apply a bit more pressure to the circles you’re rubbing on your clit–

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out loudly. Your body tenses for a moment before you relax against the mattress, pleasure coursing through you. Heat moves over you like a blanket, warming you from head to toe. You’re shaking, trembling as Billy takes you through it.

Before you know it, he’s moaning in your ear and pulling his cock from your pussy. He jerks himself off for one second, two, three, and then he’s cumming on your stomach with a cry of your name. You watch him fall apart above you, and you never were a religious person, but this? This sight is enough to bring you to your knees. You’d worship him if it were an option. That glow, that body, that smile . . . It makes you want to weep.

Billy grunts, stroking himself until his orgasm is over, and he shakily lies down beside you with a huff. You stare up at the ceiling, still catching your breath as his arm touches yours. The reality of what the two of you have just done hits you. You just fucked Billy Antrim. And you liked it.

You look over at him. He’s already staring. You smile.

“Good?” he asks. You nod.

“So good.”

He hums and wipes a bit of sweat from your brow.

“I didn’t think a woman like you would wanna be taken like that,” he says gently. You have to give it to him, he really is a gentleman. Even after you held him at gunpoint, and told him to escort you here, and bossed him around, he's still treating you kindly. He’s still here, he isn’t getting up to leave. In fact, he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling out his handkerchief. He hands it over to you, then gestures to your cum-covered stomach. You smile softly, wipe it up, then set the handkerchief aside.

“I’ll wash this,” you tell him. He nods, humming. His cheeks are red. You like seeing him like this, all flustered and tired.

He sits up slowly, and you watch the muscles in his back ripple as he does. He stands up and tucks his cock back into his trousers before reaching for his undershirt. Your smile fades, and he notices.

“I’m just hungry,” he says. “You want somethin’ from downstairs?”

You lean up on your elbows.

“Something to drink, maybe,” you say. You smile. “And whatever food you can find. I’m in no position to be picky.”

He nods as he puts on his button-up and begins to do it up.

“I’ll do my best,” he says. Once he’s redressed, Billy glances back at you. “You gonna be okay?”

You nod, reaching for your shirt and draping it over your naked body as you lie back against the pillows.

“Mhm. You know I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

You smile widely. Such a charmer.

“Go, before I undress you again,” you tell him again. He chuckles.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You hum, getting comfortable as Billy leaves. You hear the door open and close, and you sigh. Your eyes are heavy, and the mattress feels so soft and comforting compared to what you’ve been having, and it’s so quiet . . .

***

It’s dark when you wake. You stir, put off by the blackness. You’re still naked, and when you realize this, you haphazardly pull your button-up back on. You do it up as you move over, feeling the other side of the bed.

“Billy,” you say into the dark. There is no response. You roll your eyes. That damn bastard. You thought he was different. You thought he was a good man, a kind man. If he wanted more sex, he could have just woken you up, but no, he left you up here in the pitch black. He’s probably downstairs, drinking wine and fucking whores.

You clench your jaw as you fumble around. You start up the lamp on the bedside table, and grab your pants off the floor. You yank them on, along with your boots, then glance around.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter. “Couldn’t even bring me water.”

You grab the room key and your gun holster off of the bedside table, then yank open the door and start downstairs. The brothel is bustling now that it’s dark outside. Men and naked women are everywhere. You pull a lady aside as you buckle your holster around your hips.

“The guy I was with,” you say to her, “where’s he at?”

She shrugs, then pulls away. Anger boils inside of you. You push your way through and get to the bar. The woman behind it seems to recognize you.

“You got water?” you ask, frustrated by the entire situation. The woman nods, then silently pours you a glass. She hands it over. You down half of it, then set the glass on the bar and wipe your mouth.

“You’re the lady who came here with Billy Antrim,” she says finally. You look up. You’re positive that Billy wouldn’t give out his name, let alone his full name, in a place like this. You remain neutral and calm.

“Who?”

“The man,” the lady behind the bar says. “The one who went upstairs with you, that was Billy Antrim.”

You cock your head.

“What’re you getting at?”

She blinks at you.

“Don’t you know?” she asks.

Your brows furrow.

“Did something happen?”

She nearly laughs.

“Where have you been? Asleep?”

“Where is he?” you ask sharply. Your heart is beginning to race. You have a pit in your stomach. Deep down, you know something bad has happened. The woman watches you carefully.

“You care about him. It’s dangerous to care about people like that–”

“Tell me where the fuck he is!” you snap, right hand reaching down to rest at your holstered gun. The woman behind the bar clenches her jaw.

“Someone turned him in,” she says flatly. “He was taken away a few hours ago.”

Fuck. You should have been awake, you should have been with him. You could have vouched for him, told them that they had the wrong guy. You told him you’d keep him out of trouble, and now . . .

You storm away from the bar, hurrying upstairs to get yours’ and Billy’s things. You leave in a tizzy, adrenaline pumping through you as you fetch Billy’s horse from the stable. You secure everything to the saddle, pull yourself on, and take off towards the jail.

You tie Billy’s horse outside, then step inside. You glance around for a moment, and the jailkeep looks at you, seemingly irritated by your presence. You offer him a charming smile.

“Sir,” you say, nodding politely as he looks you up and down. “I–”

“Visiting hours are over,” he says flatly. You hum, glancing around. You spot Billy, and your eyes linger on him for a moment. He grips the bars of the cell, watching you intently. You’ve got a look in your eyes, he realizes. He hopes you aren’t going to do what he thinks you’re going to do. He doesn’t think he’s worth the trouble.

You look at the jailkeep again. You’re silent for a moment, and before he can tell you to get out, you’re reaching for your gun. You pull it on him and cock it. He stiffens.

“Unlock his cell,” you say firmly. The man doesn’t move, too surprised. “Now!”

Billy watches you with wide eyes. The jailkeep rises to his feet slowly, and you keep the cocked gun pointed at him as he steps over to Billy’s cell.

“Unlock it,” you tell him again. “Hurry up.”

His hands tremble as he finds the right key and unlocks Billy’s cell. Billy steps out quickly, then grabs the keys from the man and shoves him into the cell. He locks him in, and you take a small step back.

“Don’t yell,” you warn the jailkeep. “I’ll kill you, I swear to God, I’ll do it.”

While you threaten the man, Billy hurries over to the desk to find his gun. He grabs the jailkeep’s holster off the desk, too, while he’s at it.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, woman,” the man says. You hum.

“Damn right I am.” You glance at Billy. “Let’s go.”

Billy takes the keys with him, and the two of you leave the jail quickly.

“There’s another horse over there,” you tell Billy as he runs towards his horse. He nods.

“Go, I’ll keep watch,” he says. You fetch the horse, which you have to guess belonged to the jailkeep, and you hoist yourself up. You ride up beside Billy.

“C’mon, haul ass,” you say, riding past him. His horse gallops after yours, and the two of you ride into the darkness.

The severity of the situation is not lost on Billy. You’re in trouble, now. You broke the law to help him, to get him out, and you did it without hesitation. He would’ve been dead by morning if you hadn’t come to get him, and now you’re an outlaw, too. Guilt claws at him as the two of you leave town.

“You didn’t havta do that,” he says over the sound of hooves hitting the ground.

“I couldn’t leave you.”

Billy shakes his head. He doesn’t understand.

“You don’t even know me,” he says, almost frustrated. What a stupid thing you just did. What a thoughtless, dangerous act.

“I know you’re a good man,” you tell him. “And I know you don’t deserve to hang.”

Billy glances at you, his body bouncing as his horse runs up beside yours. Your eyes meet for just a moment before you look forward again.

“I hope you’re not thinkin’ of ditching me, Antrim,” you say. He can’t help but smile softly. He wouldn’t even dream of doing such a thing. He owes you his life.

“‘Course not,” he says. You hum.

“Then stop lookin’ at me like that and let’s focus on getting the fuck outta here.”

God, where have you been all his life? You’re everything he’s ever needed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

#rynwritesstuff #billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #tom blyth fanfiction #william bonney #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid mgm #billy the kid x you #william bonney x reader #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid fic #billy the kid fluff #william bonney x you #william h bonney x you #william bonney smut

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mysteria157 · 3 days

Text

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light Profanity, Light Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Fingering, Mentions of Cunnilingus, Public Sex (Sort of), Office Sex

WC: ~9.8k

Summary:

Nanami may be disconnected from social media trends, but he’s not oblivious. He’s overheard the crass innuendos and seen the tasteless memes on Yuji's phone. He knows the vulgar things some men say—about how excited they get when the summer begins.

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it.

Sundress season.

Notes: Hello! Had a random thought this morning and decided to roll with it and practice writing Nanami some more. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this one-shot.

This is a prime example of me writing smut when I feel like it. Please do not ask me for more related to this story and please do not ask me to write smut, the answer is no lol. This is just a one-shot of a random idea, please enjoy it for what it is lol. Thank you all for understanding!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @arminsumi | Header: made by myself

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter |

The city summers are a different kind of hell. The humid heat clings to Nanami, making his skin feel instantly tacky as if he hasn’t showered in days. It wreaks havoc on his usual crisp suit and tie, causing the fabric to stubbornly adhere in unflattering ways. He thinks back wistfully to his bachelor days when he could simply escape such misery by holing up inside with the AC blasting, and then wait until the evening for a walk or to run errands. But that was before you came into his life like a vivacious sunbeam, all warmth and carefree laughter.

Now, he wouldn’t dream of depriving you of simple joys like strolling hand-in-hand through the park, watching you bask in nature’s dazzling seasonal shifts. The fragrant flowers blooming, the fireflies flickering to life as dusk settles, the earthy pre-rain smell you adore—he lives for the ease of these tranquil moments.

Throughout your relationship, Nanami has cataloged your ever-changing looks to match the passing seasons. The oversized chunky sweaters and leggings you’d cuddle up in during fall’s crisp breezes. The sleek peacoats and woolen scarves wound around your neck when winter blanketed the city in soft stillness.

But summertime is when your vibrant spirit and personal style shines. And it’s Nanami’s first summer with you when everything changes.

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it.

Sundress season.

And it’s a season that has awoken something primal within him. Something in his gut stirs, something in his mind shifts and the more he notices, the more he feels like a lecherous old man instead of the well-mannered one in his late twenties. While his clothes stick uncomfortably to his sweat-slicked skin you get to slip into breezy summer dresses that let every inch of your beautiful body breathe.

As an event planner constantly on the move, you seem to live in the wispy, colorful outfits at all hours of the day. Like the buttercup yellow and candy pink number currently floating around you as you stroll together to the bakery during your shared lunch hour. It’s modest—cotton fabric that doesn’t stick to you, with ruffle short sleeves and a V-neckline that highlights your collarbones and the delicate diamond necklace resting between.

Nanami risks a sidelong glance, instantly regretting it when his gaze gets trapped by the way the bright floral pattern sways and twists with each step you take. The hem brushes the brown skin of your knees and while he can’t see much, Nanami knows the soft curves hidden underneath the airy fabric intimately.

While the caveman part of him can understand the underlying meaning of sundress season, it’s everything else that flares his want for you. It’s the wild curls that brush your cheeks and neck, the diamond earrings that reflect in the sun, the curl of your long lashes that kiss your lower lids when you blink. And yes—the gorgeous dress that you have on enhances everything about you—but in the most basic sense, you are beautiful.

“You’re staring.” It’s a playful accusation that you direct at him even though your eyes are admiring the tulips that you both walk past.

He quickly averts his eyes, sharp cheeks blazing a fiery red. “My apologies I…” Nanami clears his throat, struggling to regain his usual unruffled demeanor. “That dress looks lovely on you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, pausing so he can open the bakery door for you. “You think so? I just picked it up last week. Perfect for this heat, isn’t it?”

Nanami swallows hard at the teasing tilt to your tone, the innocent question feeling anything but. From the very first day he met you—that very first day you knocked back a glass of expensive whiskey and smiled at him as if it was nothing—he’s come to accept that you have no reservations of flustering him. You thrive on it, and for as stiff as Nanami is, you are a breath of fresh air that he never imagined would slide into his lungs.

Umber eyes watch you walk ahead of him and into the welcoming AC of the bakery, tantalizing calves flexing with each step.

“Very much…” is all he can manage, hastily ripping his eyes away again as his equilibrium dangerously shifts.

You laugh lightly at his sudden silence, the warm, rich sound simultaneously soothing his thundering heart and making it trip up all over again. “You act like you’ve never seen me in a dress before.”

“You know that’s not true,” he mutters, switching his gaze to the menu to avoid your entirely too-innocent smile. “I simply…appreciate fine things.”

The rich ring of your answering chuckle sends molten desire licking traitorously down his spine. “Is that so? Then I’ll have to acquire more of these stunning ‘fine things’ for you to appreciate this summer…”

He should have known better than to egg you on. Had he kept his eyes to himself and brushed off your knowing glances, he could have enjoyed you without your playful watch. But for as smart as Nanami is, for as observant and vigilant in his work as he is in his life outside of it, he can never wrap his head around how devious you truly are.

One day, the weather calms down enough for lunch at the park. It’s the perfect day to eat outside. The sun is high in the sky but the canopy of trees gives you both the protection you need from harsh rays.

“Need any help setting up?” You call out, shrugging off the ice denim jacket from your shoulders to reveal this summer’s newest addition—an angelic white sundress adorned with delicate lace trim.

Nanami’s throat tightens and he shakes his head, unfurling a blue blanket onto the thick grass below you both. “I can do it, love. Please just relax.”

He carefully arranges the picnic blanket, spreading the wrinkles free before you plop down on one side. As you dig into the large lunchbox, he admires the crisp white cotton that seems to skim over your frame, covering you but still unable to touch. Thin straps leave your shoulders bare, your skin glowing in the sun from your shimmery sunscreen. No necklace this time, so the square neckline dips just enough to offer a subtle hint of cleavage. The stretchy ribbed material hugs and accentuates every lush curve before gently flaring into an effortless, free-flowing skirt.

You purse your lips and furrow your brow in concentration, leaning more over the lunchbox, your back straightening to steady yourself before he watches free of shame as you arch just so.

When you turn to flash him that achingly fond smile, your curls falling over one shoulder, all traces of decency flee from Nanami’s mind. In that moment, he’s transported back to those dizzying early days of your relationship—entirely captivated, yet utterly terrified of somehow shattering this dazzling, undeserved connection between you.

“Thirsty?” You hold out one of the banana milk boxes that he’s grown to love since your presence, an impish quirk of your brow, clearly aware of his slow descent into hell.

Nanami nods jerkily and takes the milk box, unable to find his voice for a beat. As you settle down gracefully beside him, the skirt drifts up in a gentle billow, shaping to and showcasing skin. He has to tear his eyes away from the wicked flashes of toned thigh with extreme willpower.

Like the devil you are, you toss him a coy smirk, shiny lip gloss clear even though he knows it tastes like strawberry. “We gonna eat or are you just gonna gawk at me like a weirdo?”

He can’t help the scoff that leaves him as he pulls out sandwiches for you both. “I thought you liked when I gawk at you.”

“Not when I’m hungry.”

He shakes his head, smirking softly as he removes the cling wrap before handing you your half, your fingers brushing against his. Warm pleasure blooms in his chest at the radiant sight you make contrasted against the swaying greenery. It’s as if you don’t belong but he couldn’t imagine you anywhere else. You take a generous bite of your sandwich, a smear of mustard in the crease of your lips as you offer him a gentle smile.

As the scorching summer rages, Nanami can’t help but chastise himself. A mundane and childish social meme has become the representation of the hardest test he’s ever taken. Maybe he should have asked for tips from Yuji on how to better prepare himself.

He’s always prided himself on admiring from afar, on controlling his emotions in public and savoring them later in private. He knows your beauty and the unintentional way you drain the air around him. But he’s always been able to offer that soft smile, place a hand on your shoulder or your waist and offer a compliment to whatever you’ve chosen to wear for the day. But recently, in the face of your summertime wardrobe choices, Nanami finds that steely discipline faltering at an alarming rate.

Sinking deeper into the plush living room sofa, Nanami exhales a deep sigh and allows the tension thrumming through his shoulders to bleed away. Here, surrounded by the apartment’s climate-controlled sanctuary, he can savor these increasingly rare moments of solitary peace sprawled out with a good book. It’s a well-deserved shared day off for you both—free of schedules, obligations, or anything more strenuous than lounging around with each other. And more importantly, at home, you’re nothing but comfortable clothes and soft pajamas.

He’s safe.

A wry smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he imagines the look of feigned innocence you always sport whenever he gets too overt about appreciating your seasonal attire. As if you don’t know the absolutely devastating effect even the simplest hair toss or twirl has on what’s left of his challenging self-restraint these days.

It’s going to be a great day. He’s almost done with this book, just three more chapters and then he can start another in his pile that he wants to tackle this summer. That’s right, Nanami Kento is going to—

The soft pad of your bare feet against the hardwood floors has Nanami glancing up instinctively from behind the novel’s pages. And just like that, the world around him completely whites out as if he’s been hit over the head with a brick.

You’ve emerged from the hallway in a yellow sundress so vibrantly captivating, so deliciously clingy and effortlessly suggestive that he nearly swallows his tongue in surprise. The rich gold hue kisses the deep tone of your skin, as if you’re a sunflower blooming under the artificial lighting of the apartment. The dress accentuates your shape in the most brazenly tantalizing way—the thin ruffle straps on your shoulders, the sweetheart neckline hinting at full cleavage, the dress’ light hem hitting indecently high on your thighs in playful flirty wisps.

But it’s the stretchy knit fabric’s complete inability to disguise any curve or meaty swell that really has Nanami sitting up straighter on the cushions. It’s not layered well enough—almost transparent—and the snug material leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, from the outline of bright panties that cover the soft spread of your hips to the pert dusky points outlined beneath the bodice.

Absolutely devastating and on full, confident display and this isn’t fair because he has three chapters left.

He barely registers the “What are you reading?” you offer him over one shoulder as you stroll towards the kitchen area in that swaying, uninhibited saunter that never fails to ignite his senses. Nanami simply sits there transfixed—one hand gripping the spine of his book while the other claws restlessly against his own inner thigh. Each roll of your hips has that thin dress swishing and lifting in tiny torturous glimpses that have his imagination veering wildly into unrestrained territory. But he’s at home, that’s okay right?

That’s when you shift your weight onto the tips of your toes, your back turned to him, stretching up towards the top cabinets with one hand braced against the counter…and the entire world seems to judder to a halt all over again. Because from this new vantage point, Nanami can’t tear his eyes away from the call of your legs, the dimples on the backs of your thighs, up, up to the hem and—

A guttural sound wrenches free from low in his diaphragm, a mix of a groan and a growled curse. He looks back down to his book, searching aimlessly for where he left off, flickering back over to you just as quick.

He should look away, tear his eyes off of the gloriously indecent picture you’ve unwittingly created simply by existing. And yet…Nanami finds his stare burning an increasingly blazing trail down the bewitching ‘V’ between your shoulder blades, past the delicious dip of your arched lower back to the toned flare of your thighs and calves below.

At one point, you bend even deeper at the waist, hips tilting up as you struggle to reach a particularly elusive item on the high shelf. The filmy yellow skirt jumps and flirts up with the motion, granting Nanami a shameless eyeful of toned thighs and the flash of his favorite pair of panties—lilac with lace along the edges that squeeze the skin of your ass in the most inviting way. He very nearly drops the book from his suddenly slack fingers at the sight, hissing out a low curse between his teeth.

You huff out an adorable sound of frustration as you fail to reach whatever item you’re going for, and he knows he should step in to assist like the gentleman he is. But his stare remains rooted to spot, ogling and committing it all to memory so he can think about it later—alone.

“Let me get that,” he finally manages to scrape out, voice gone low and gritty with naked yearning despite his best efforts at nonchalance.

You shoot him one of those bright, beaming smiles over your shoulder in response—blissfully unaware of the effect your glowing, ethereal beauty has on him even without your intentional teasing. “Just grabbing the flour for dinner,” you explain sheepishly, leaning into his broad form as he comes up behind you and grabs the ingredient on the top shelf. “I always have trouble reaching.”

And isn’t that just symbolic as all hell? His curvy, tempting beloved constantly hovering just beyond his reach these past few weeks—unattainable without discarding every last vestige of control he has. It isn’t like you both don’t have sex. You do…often. There’s just always been a build up, never anything explosive.

Even in the privacy of your home, he’s never thrown caution to the wind. Nanami has always been one to savor every calculated build of pleasure in its precious sequence. You’ve expressed your satisfaction readily enough, reciprocating his passion with that same rapturous abandon you bring to all aspects of life. But in all the years of his tiring, overworked life, you are the first to show him what it feels like to never walk a predetermined line.

“This is…I’ve never seen you wear it inside,” Nanami manages, his throat feeling increasingly dry as his eyes trace the line of fabric on your shoulders.

You take the flour from him, shooting him a sly, knowing look from beneath your lashes as you turn to face him fully. “It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?”

He can’t stop the reflexive glance that rakes over every inch of you. “It’s sixty-eight degrees.”

You lean in a fractional amount—just enough for the swell of your breasts to brush against his shirt as you crane up towards his face. “Well, I run hot,” you murmur, voice dropping into the pits of hell, a throaty register that bypasses Nanami’s higher cognitive functions entirely.

He’s beyond undone. Frozen in place with desperate, rapturous hunger raging through his very marrow. This close, he can make out the small raised moles on your exposed shoulders, the genetic blemishes that are common for your skin tone. He gets a better view of the rigid peaks of your nipples straining against the thin fabric, practically begging for the heated and dripping touch of his mouth that he’s always more than happy to bestow upon you.

His fingertips clench and relax at his sides, held back only by tremendous reserves of willpower from reaching out to map and relearn every soft, silken plane of feminine heat and temptation currently being dangled in front of him like a prize he still can’t win.

You take in the undisguised wanting and torment written large across his features with a look of utter satisfaction. Then, before he can formulate some slurred plea for relief, you spin on one heel and saunter out of his reach—hips undulating hypnotically beneath that flimsy gauze of material in an alluring farewell.

Only once you finally disappear around the corner does Nanami manage to sag forwards—palms braced on the counter as he attempts to draw steady lungfuls of air back into his oxygen-starved body.

By the time he plops back on the sofa, and opens the spine of his book, the desire to read is gone.

You take pity on him for a few weeks after that searing afternoon in the kitchen. Your outside adventures are marked by breathable athletic leggings paired with loose tank tops that drape and show you off…but in a far tamer, less flagrantly teasing way than before.

Even at home, the soft cotton shorts and tees you lounge around in provide Nanami some solace—the casual fabrics leaving just enough to the imagination rather than putting every mouth-watering curve on display.

Your usual playful flirtations also seem to be dialed back during this oasis period. As if you’re allowing the poor man a chance to realign his senses and regain some semblance of control. It allows him time to resettle back into some of his usual regimented routines. Without you on a mission at the periphery of his awareness constantly, stoking those primal fires, he finds himself able to slip back into the role of polished, tired professional and attentive partner with relative ease.

Perhaps a bit too easily, if he’s being honest with himself. Because before he can even register the transition, that fleeting grace period seems to dissolve back into the heady summer ether as quickly as it had begun.

The warm evening air smells of charcoal and citronella as Nanami moves through the crowd, trying yet failing to focus on anything but you. All around him, friends and coworkers intermingle while indulging in ice-cold drinks and delicious food fresh off the smoker. He loves food, especially Yuki's cooking when she hosts a barbecue.

But none of it registers tonight.

Because every sensory nerve-ending in his body is completely captivated and overwhelmed by the vision you make in that deep red sundress.

The rich crimson chiffon swirls and caresses over your body in sinuous waves of delicious color. You’re bathed in red, as if rose petals have unfurled and stitched themselves together to form the beautiful dress on your body. It’s a maxi dress that sweeps down to your ankles and kisses the straps of your block heels. Scorching flashes of full thighs are visible through the flowing slits on each side. The deep v-neck dips in a daring drop that leaves your sternum and the inner sides of your breasts achingly exposed.

Each step you take has the delicate material clinging and drifting in the most hypnotic dance around your heavenly form. Nanami tracks the rhythmic sway of your hips with a burning stare, his control splintering a little more with every toss of your head that allows the deep brown of your skin to wink at him from the column of your neck.

Yuki is already three wine coolers in—not a lot for most, but more than enough for her to throw decorum to the wind. From across the backyard, Choso watches with an indulgent smile as his partner bobs off-beat to the soft music flowing from the speakers.

Choso's expression of pure adoration mirrors the way Nanami looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching. They share that unspoken understanding, that bone-deep contentment of being completely enraptured by the women they love.

At one point, the music shifts, more alcohol disappears, and Yuki is hauling you to the makeshift dance floor of the backyard. Nanami tries, he really, really does. But everything about you makes him stand at attention. Breathing, walking, laughing, smiling at nothing, and now—with just one rock of your hips to the music—his eyes are locked in.

You’ve never been a good dancer. But you’ve also never cared of the expectation to be a good one either. And Yuki is an extroverted pull that makes you sway more, that makes your shoulders roll and laughter to bubble from your lips as you watch your friend make a fool of herself.

Nanami runs a hand through his thick blonde locks, disrupting the careful part he made before you both left the apartment earlier in the evening. The other hand clutches a glass of scotch a little tighter, the condensation sliding against his fingers before he takes a generous swig, his eyes not once leaving you.

You can feel him before you even look over, and when you do lock with Nanami’s deep brown gaze from across the yard, you throw him a soft look from beneath your lashes as you slowly roll your hips. It’s the same motion of your hips that he got to feel last night with you straddling him, panting against his lips in the middle of the night.

Outwardly sensual in only a way he can recognize amongst everyone around him. But it’s your rapturous, carefree expression of pure bliss that simultaneously enchants and undoes the last tattered remains of his composure. With every movement, you embody the very essence of feminine energy—raw, joyful, and utterly free. You are a vision of untamed beauty, a wild goddess of the summer night come to life in a swirling dreamscape of rich ruby chiffon.

The erotic, carnal urge to chase after your swaying, taunting form and haul you away to some shadowed corner where he can divest you of that sinful dress is overwhelming. Swallowing hard, Nanami averts his burning stare for fear of literally combusting on the spot.

“You alright there, buddy?” Yu's familiar voice cuts through the lusty fog, tinged with the warm charm of a couple beers down. “You look like you’re about to swallow your tongue or something.”

“I…excuse me,” is all Nanami can grate out, the remark feeling like fragments of glass as he speaks. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply stalking off through the open patio door and into the thankfully dim and cool interior of Yuki and Choso's home. Anything to escape your enticing presence for even a single moment.

The music and laughter from outside feels muffled as he sinks down onto the living room sofa in the shadows—rubbing distractedly at his thundering chest. But it does nothing to get rid of the vision of you dancing so wantonly and on unrestrained display in that gorgeous ruby sundress.

Where are you even getting them? Online? Or is there a store that he doesn’t know about? He hasn’t seen other women in the city wearing dresses like you do. But then again…Nanami doesn’t really pay attention unless it’s you.

His fingers grip the plush armrest of the sofa until the knuckles strain white, breath sawing harsh and ragged from his heaving lungs. Nanami squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to visualize anything other than the way that lightweight crimson had drifted and kissed over your thighs that peeked between side slits, the growing sheen of sweat between the generous canvas of your chest, the exposed slope of your neck free of curls—a spot of concealer on the side to hide the mark he gave you last night.

A harsh exhale escapes him as he forces his eyes open, only to instantly regret it. The muted sounds of the party filter in from outside—sweet laughter, the low thrum of bass, the periodic high-pitched squeal of your voice crying out at Yuki to get a hold of herself.

Nanami’s stomach clenches raggedly at that sound, arousal stroking down his spine in sweltering waves. Through the clear glass of the patio door, he can see the way your face lights up in pure rapturous joy as you give in to yourself. The subtle shifts and gyrations of your body in time with the beat, each swivel of your hips like a siren’s call.

Against his volition, imagination melds into memory, replaying the countless times he’s buried his face between your thighs and simply drank in the celestial sounds of your pleasure until his name was a breathless gasp on your lips. That shrieking cry at Yuki almost the same towards him when he licks at your sensitive nerves one too many times. He forces his gaze away, leans his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling.

The music fluctuates once more, that instantly recognizable intro to the next funky summer hit you adore cuing up. Despite the walls between you, Nanami can still acutely pick up the subtle cadence of your movements in time with that danceable rhythm. He knows the exact choreography of hips and legs that song inspires in you…and his slacks suddenly feel far too confining.

That’s when your voice cuts through the relative quiet like a bolt of lightning, somehow even closer now as you call out—half-playful chiding, half siren’s promise.

“Oh Kentooo…” The singsong inflection has his eyes squeezing shut even as his cock shamefully twitches against it’s restrictive fabric prison. “Where has my favorite salaryman gone off to hide? You know I can’t dance without my partner watching me.”

Gritting his teeth against the dark, full-bodied groan that tries to escape, Nanami hunches forward until his elbows are digging into his thighs. There you stand framed in the patio door, backlit in a devastating silhouette by the lantern lights emanating through the loud yard behind you.

You walk closer in that torturous dress, the double layers trailing languidly behind in currents of fabric that have his throat struggling to swallow. Your stunning frame is practically dripping in sensual confidence and self-assured power. He knows the power you have over him and would sooner swallow his favorite tie than give that up.

The rich carmine floats around you in sinuous waves as you sashay closer to where Nanami sits transfixed on the sofa. And with each step, all manners and decorum that have been taught to him fizzle away with the increasing ache in his jeans.

“Like what you see?” you murmur huskily once you’ve prowled to stand between his legs, allowing Nanami an unfettered view of your neckline, the long gold necklace between your breasts winking at him with each shallow intake of breath. You lift one leg to press a knee onto his powerful thigh—close enough for your perfume to slide down his nostrils and cloud his mind. The slit over your bent knee flutters open in an obscene gap, granting his hooded gaze a glimpse of skin his teeth ache to bite into.

“I asked,” you breathe out in a seductive timbre, near enough for Nanami to actually taste the addictive warmth of your presence on his tongue. “If you like what you see…”

The inhale that rattles through his powerful frame is involuntary. So is the compulsive way his fingertips suddenly flex against the cushion with the overwhelming urge to finally reacquaint himself with the soft temptation of your skin. Others be damned, mannerisms of being a respectful guest falling to the wayside.

Somewhere through the rapidly thickening haze of pure liquid arousal, Nanami manages a jerky nod—unable to summon even the most basic of syllables in response. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing convulsively as you arch one delicious eyebrow in a silent challenge. With your beautiful curls pulled up into a high ponytail, he can see the slope of your ears that are adorned with the gold hoops he bought you last month.

Then, before he can gather enough of his scattered wits to chastise you for your behavior, you’re boldly reaching out and capturing one of his clenching fists in a firm grip. A soft grunt rattles up from deep in Nanami’s chest at the heated feel of your palm finally making purchase on his overheated skin.

But his breath hitches in a harsh inhale as you purposefully guide his splayed fingers towards your exposed leg—sliding his hand up excruciatingly slow to caress along the landscape of textures and planes laid out in offering. He expects the generous hem of panties he’s seen time and time again. He knows what they look like in his mind when he teases the edges before slipping inside to graze his fingers along your aching clit. But the calloused pads of his fingertips brush the thin string of a thong instead. And it’s just a single touch that has him wide-eyed, reeling—the edges of his vision dizzying into a hazy fog of aching, inexplicable need.

You should have come with a manual. Surely there’s a guide to get through the summer months with you? Some sort of text to explain the steps he needs to take to keep himself in control in public?

The rapturous throb of your saphenous vein leaps against his fingertips as you allow him to slant just a hairsbreadth further—close enough to feel the heat of the place he’s been countless times before—close enough to slide a thick finger along fabric he knows is wet.

Only for you to tear your hand away and drop your knee as the sound of Yuki's voice pierces the heavy sensual tension hanging between your bodies.

“There you are!” She calls out cheerfully from the sliding glass door. “My song is on, come dance with me!”

There’s a gentle tuft of laughter from you then—one tinged with dark satisfaction as you drink in the wrecked, wanton expression flaming across Nanami’s features. As if thoroughly enjoying reducing him to this strung-out state of desperation. You could rule the world if given the right resources.

“Yuki, let’s get you some water. You’ve had a little too much to drink…” your voice trails off as you disappear in a rustle of vermilion and sashaying hips with one last loaded look over your bare shoulder.

He manages a shuddering breath that feels more like sandpaper sliding down his abused lungs. The delicious scent of your perfume still clings to the charged air around him, the phantom-like caress of your dress along his knuckles, the sound of your throaty laugh disappearing back to the party outside. Each ragged exhale has his body subtly canting forward, giving silent chase to your retreating form as if by muscle memory alone.

This game…this deliciously maddening game you delight in playing has Nanami’s entire being teetering on the razor-thin edge of unraveling completely. Each new summer ensemble seems specifically designed to further tempt and destroy the decades of discipline he’s meticulously cultivated since he was a teenager.

Nanami would think after a relationship or two, he would have steeled himself against falling victim to seduction. And yet, not a single woman from his past could have prepared Nanami for the devastating combination of your radiant beauty and barely-restrained hedonism.

Your laughter calls out to him again, his eyes snapping up to see you smiling as Yuki chugs the glass of water Choso has pressed to her lips. Completely innocent and free of devilish qualities, the fact that Nanami knows that dark side of you makes him fold his arms across his chest, sagging against the sofa and glaring at your form as he wills his erection to go down.

It’s two days before summer’s end when Nanami feels the steadily fraying threads of his self-control finally unravel into oblivion. He’s tried every possible tactic these last few months to stave off the relentless fire of desire you’ve been stoking within him—going for runs, ice cold showers, avoiding you when possible. He’s even resorted to having you model your newest sundress purchases at home in a desperate attempt at desensitizing himself. It all seems incredibly dramatic, but Nanami has no idea what else to do. Nothing has worked against the intoxicating mix of your lively beauty and increasingly bold choices designed to torment him until he’s six feet under.

He had known from the moment he accidentally stumbled upon that fateful periwinkle dress sitting in your laptop’s shopping cart that it would be his undoing. He can still picture with perfect clarity the way the model seemed to shimmer and dance on the screen as he clicked through the product imagery—he pictured it with heart throbbing clarity how it would look on you.

And he still has so many more years left of his life to enjoy.

Without conscious thought, Nanami had swiftly removed the item from the cart—an invasion of privacy that left him nauseous, but a necessary decision if only to spare himself.

He was stupid to think it would actually work.

So it comes as little surprise to see you boldly flaunting that silken number tonight at the rooftop gala marking his company’s most prosperous quarter yet. The twinkling strings of lantern bulbs and hot summer breezes swirling all around you only heighten the flagging warning that this night won’t end the way he wants.

As you glide about the rooftop, the pale periwinkle seems to float effortlessly around your body. Like every dress before, this one is no exception, complimenting the deepness of your skin. The whisper-weight fabric lays against your hips and waist, simultaneously shaping and gracefully draping in all the right places.

The thin straps crisscross behind your neck, framing your graceful shoulders and collarbones. As you turn, the silk lifts and drifts around you in a mesmerizing swirl of decadence. It’s another plunging V-neckline, but this dress sits on your body and decolletage with an air of romantic grace. It’s not scandalous like that night at Yuki and Choso's.

But it’s the back—oh it’s the back that makes his gaze heavy, that makes the organ in his chest beat out of rhythm with every inch he uncovers. Try as he might, it’s absolutely impossible for him to look away from the delicate contours and valleys of your body put on full and enthralling display by this backless dress. From the elegant lines of your throat and shoulders left teasingly bare to the soft inward curve of your arched lower back—the dress is a cruel temptation showcasing every salivating inch of you that he’s spent countless nights worshiping.

It’s beautiful on you, truly and unimaginably beautiful, and it’s a terrible twist of fate that such a simple observation is destroying Nanami from the inside. All that discipline—the cold showers, the extra miles added to his runs, the attempts of desensitization—it’s useless. No matter how hard he tries, he will always notice something new each time he looks at you. And it will always wreck him and throw him off axis whether he likes it or not.

Because amidst all the warmth and sociability of this rooftop celebration, all Nanami’s rapidly sharpening focus can zero in on is the subtle glisten of perspiration trailing down the slope of your spine. Every imperceptible turn and cock of your hip amplified tenfold by the silk that gets to touch you while he watches. As if personally daring him to finally surrender every last shred of patience and simply take what he wants.

A soft chuckle escapes your full lips as Nanami’s boss leans in closer, undoubtedly regaling you with some far from amusing anecdote from the office. The charming sound has every thread of Nanami’s control taut like a bowstring. Because that sound means a lot for him nowadays—laughing at his dry humor, the movies you both watch together, the giggling stuttering into whimpers and moans of ecstasy when your back arches from his tongue.

Suddenly, the light summer breeze kicks up in and swirls around you, waving the hem of your dress and the two-day old twistout on your head. Instinctively, you reach up to tuck a lock of those dark silken twists behind one ear.

Time itself seems to slow as he watches those inky tendrils ghost across your bare shoulders and the exposed skin of your upper back. Nanami watches with visceral hunger as those wild strands make playful, meandering paths across the smoothly toned expanse of brown skin. His entire body instantaneously flushes with hot need and arousal at the simple, harmless image. The soft rise of your breasts shake as you offer a fake laugh to whatever drivel your boss has just said. And in that split second—the culmination of tonight, this dress, the entire summer of taunting and coy smiles— Nanami’s restraint finally shatters into so many useless slivers at his feet.

Before conscious thought can override anything else, he’s stalking across the rooftop with rigid, predatory intensity—adjusting the unique glasses on his nose, his mouth set in a grim line of single-minded focus. The gaggle of chattering coworkers and small-talk banter all fade away into muted static and white noise. All that exists in this heated vortex of Nanami’s rapidly narrowing universe is the coiling pull of you.

“Ah, Nanami!” His boss greets heartily, clearly surprised yet pleased to see the company’s best worker at last. “Your partner and I were just discussing a better way to spruce up the quarterly party for next year. Care to weigh in, my friend?”

The question lands on deaf ears. Because at the exact same instant his professional mentor is extending that olive branch of attempted small talk…your eyes are on his, a knowing, small smile pressed to the hem of your champagne glass as you take a sip. The sight of your jewelry, the fabric against your skin, the way you look at him…the desire that rips through his body is staggering.

“I apologize for interrupting, but I need to speak with you,” he grates out in a tone heavy with gravel and masculine focus. His palm finds the smoldering heat of your lower back without conscious thought, marking delirious patterns of desire against your naked skin. Your eyebrows furrow with a silent question at the rough timbre of his command…even though you see that undisguised storm of hunger and frustrated desire raging behind his tinted glasses.

“Of course,” you finally murmur and turn to his coworkers to wish them goodbye, setting down your glass on the table beside you.

He’s burning, raging with a fever that doesn’t even exist and each shallow inhale draws more of your achingly familiar perfume into his senses—only making things worse.

He guides you through the crowded rooftop party and towards the elevators with a molten intensity bordering on feral. Nanami’s palm maps possessive into the searing expanse of your back. Every step jostles his arm flush against the silk on your frame.

“Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?”

The rich, seductive rasp of your voice is designed to torture him further, but Nanami doesn’t rise to it, simply presses fingers more firm to your back, his other punches the elevator button with purpose.

“I said I need to speak with you,” he finally bites out. “That should be more than enough.”

You lean further into his touch and look up at him, your tongue darts out to toy with your plush bottom lip in a show of faux innocence.

“Is that so?” The melodic lilt coupled with the ghost of your warm breath fanning across Nanami’s jaw would have been enough to make a lesser man’s knees buckle entirely. Instead, it simply ratchets the tension coiling through his powerful frame into a downright maddening degree.

The soft chime of the arriving elevator makes you both turn in tandem, the mirror of the elevator doors casting your reflections—allowing Nanami to drink in the smoldering fire already blazing behind your heavy-lidded stare. There’s profound hunger glimmering there that matches his own. An unadulterated wildness reined in by the thinnest veneer of coy indifference. You’ve always been slick—but not tonight.

The mirrored doors slide open with a hushed mechanical shush, you both step inside, and the doors slide closed.

Nanami offers a silent apology for the violation of manners his parents instilled in him before he backs you into the far wall—the breath punching out of your lungs as your back makes shocking contact with the mirrored paneling. Now it’s you breathless, struggling to compose yourself as the masculine power of Nanami consumes you.

A subtle shudder ripples through Nanami’s abdomen as you wantonly tilt your head back, arching your throat in wordless invitation just as your fingertips rise to trail heated lines over his heaving chest. The lapels are black as midnight, the undershirt a crisp white, and he’s the handsome man that’s all yours even as he fights between what’s right and what he wants. One of his palms is cupping the slope of your jawline as the other maps out the silk of your dress. He bends slowly until the heat of his mouth is tracing the full curve of your parted lips—a heavy brush of sculpted male confidence against your teasing softness.

“You’ve pressed against my boundaries to a criminal degree, love,” Nanami warns in a dark rasp scorched with the first cinders of the firestorm yet to come. His palm slides up the bare inward curve of your back until his fingers are tunneling through the wild riot of your twistout at the nape of your neck. Tinted eyes slit in satisfaction as your head tips back farther on a shaky inhale—granting him access to the deliciously vulnerable length of your throat.

“Nothing to say?” he husks out in the open, admiring the flutter of your lashes as his voice hits you. Nanami’s mouth brands a hot trail from the sensitive juncture of your jaw up towards the shell of your ear. You whimper softly at the slow, torturous build—the same sound of rapture he has memorized and pulled from you countless times between the sheets. It’s enough to strip away any lingering reservations entirely.

With the strength he’s never ashamed to show you, hands slide under your thighs and he yanks you up. Your legs wrap around him on instinct, your arms winding around his neck, your head tilting back again to smack on the mirrored glass.

His tongue glides along the buttery curve of your throat, tasting the familiar tang of salt and vanilla on the tip and the smell of him, of pure Nanami clouds your mind enough to finally look down at him, your noses a hairsbreadth from each other. It’s a silent standoff, your eyes as teasing as they are filled with arousal, his eyes dark with something that makes you shiver against him.

And then he’s kissing you, deep and hungry, his hands roaming the bare expanse of your back, dipping lower, pulling you closer. You melt into Nanami’s kiss, your initial surprise giving way to a matching hunger. Your hands slip under his suit jacket, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. He groans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, igniting your nerves, thrumming in your veins.

You don’t even hear the elevator doors open but you feel him walking, lips hot and demanding groaning into you as you slide your fingers into his golden locks and pull. Nanami knows these floors like the back of his hand, and he’s familiar with the abandoned break room on the thirtieth floor, his hand yanking the door open and shutting it hard, lips never leaving yours.

You gasp into his mouth when your ass lands on the old buttons of a copier, the machine groaning under your weight, the plastic buttons beeping in protest. As Nanami presses you against the copier, he can’t help but marvel at the feel of you beneath his hands. The dress, this damn dress, is like water under his fingers, smooth and cool and entirely too thin. He can feel every curve, every contour, every shuddering breath you take.

He punctuates his actions with a roll of his hips, pressing his hardness that strains against his slacks against your core. You moan, your head falling back, and he takes advantage of your exposed neck, his lips and teeth worrying the sensitive skin, his tongue licking the marks he leaves.

“How many more dresses do you have?” he growls against your throat, his voice rough with need. “How many more ways are you going to torture me?”

You gasp as his teeth graze your pulse point, your fingers threading into his hair. “T-that depends,” you manage, your voice breathy. Nanami’s chuckle is dark, dangerous, his hands trailing higher, dipping into the seam of your panties, his fingers brushing over your clit. He savors the way your jerk against him, a whimper leaving your throat as you pant into the dusty air.

“Is this what you wanted? To reduce me to this? A man so desperate for you he’d take you in a public place?”

“Yes,” you hiss, arching into his touch, your breasts pressing against the thin silk that covers them. “Yesyesyes...”

Nanami’s groan is part frustration, part desire. “You have no idea what you do to me.” There’s a hint of wonder in his voice, a note of awe at the depth of his own need. His fingers press more insistently, circling, gathering your slick to make each stroke more messy and impactful, driving you towards the edge. The buttons of the copier dig into your skin, the machine whirring and beeping beneath you, adding to the crescendo of sensation. He can hear the mechanical shuffle of papers being chucked out from one end, slapping onto the floor.

“Do you like this?” Nanami pants, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you like teasing me, driving me crazy?”

“Yes,” you admit, free of shame, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, Kento.”

He slides two fingers into your wet heat, savoring your wanton gasp, increases the pressure, the speed of his fingers, pushing you closer to the precipice. “Have you done this before?” he asks, his voice raw with emotion. “Teased other men like this, made them want you so badly they’d forget themselves?”

“No,” you moan desperately, your head thrashing from side to side, deep locks brushing your cheeks. “Never. It’s only ever been you, Kento. Only you.”

“Say it again,” he demands, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Only you,” you pant. “I’m yours, Kento. Completely.”

It doesn’t take long—countless strokes inside of you, a curl of his fingers, a twist of his wrist, and you shatter. Your cry of pleasure mixes with the beeps and groans of the copier, your body shaking, your fingers digging harder into Nanami’s shoulders that he’s sure you’ve broken the barrier.

He holds you through it, his lips on your skin, his murmured praises in your ear, soft litanies of words that has made you fall deeper in love with him each passing day. You don’t get a chance to come down fully because he’s on you again, pressing closer, pushing your panties to the side and digging his fingers into the meat of your hips. But the angle is wrong, you’re too high and the copier digs into his thighs and impedes him from getting to you the way he wants.

With a grunt of frustration, Nanami lifts you off the machine. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to the conference table. He sweeps aside the accumulated debris with one arm, sending sugar and tea packets scattering to the floor. Your back hits the table, the hard surface unyielding beneath you. Plastic cups crunches and snaps under your weight, sugar and coffee creamer powder puffing into the air, settling on your heated skin.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, soaking in the radiance you beam up at him, “how many times I’ve imagined this? Pulling you away from everyone, getting my hands on you…not being able to do it because I’m better than that.”

You moan as he nips at your collarbone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. “And yet here you are,” you tease, breathless with twinkling eyes that shine right through him.

He captures your lips again, the kiss deep and demanding. You arch into him, your hands throwing off his glasses—they smack against a wall—your fingers deftly undoing his tie, working on the buttons of his shirt. You need to feel his skin against yours, need to be closer, and he shudders at the feel of your warm hands breaching the open buttons, sliding up his bare chest.

As if reading your mind, Nanami reaches for the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down. The fabric parts, baring more of your skin to his heated gaze. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming your body like a physical caress.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then his hands are on you, tracing your curves, fingers brushing your nipples before he gives them a pinch. A whimper shakes from you, your fingers pressing into his bare chest.

Dimly, he’s aware that he should stop this, that he’s in a public place, at a work event. But the heat of your body, the insistence of your touch, the mounting pleasure coursing through his veins—it all conspires to drown out reason.

Your hands fumble with his belt, your fingers shaking with need. He helps you, impatiently pushing his pants and boxers down just enough. And then he’s touching you, his fingers digging into your hips, sliding you closer to him until the tip of him presses to the sopping wet heat of your center, wet from your orgasm and still ready.

“Please,” you whimper, hardly recognizing your own voice. “Please, Kento…”pushing your dress further up your hips, trailing over your ribs, cupping your breasts until the skin spills between the gaps. His eyes widen at the sight, the base of his spine heating up. So many times he’s seen you like this in the privacy of your home, and now it’s in an old break room at his workplace, the consequence of you finally taking things too far.

He’s free of any feral energy as he kisses you, sliding into your welcoming heat slowly to acquaint himself again. Your fingers dig into his skin, your chest pressing into him as you adjust, the table creaking under your joined weight as you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your silver heels into his back. Soon he’s moving above you, within you, each thrust pushing you higher, each thrust fanning the fire within himself.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, begging again for the unspoken demand of more. And even though the roles are reversed right now—you the one being teased—he gives you whatever you ask.

He sets a pace that’s just shy of punishing, each snap of his hips brushing his zipper against the inside of your thighs. The room fills with the sounds of sex—the slap of skin on skin, your gasps and moans, his grunts into the air. He cannot believe he’s in this moment, doing something so scandalous.

“You reduce me to this,” he pants against your lips. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” you gasp, your hands pulling at open lapels of his shirt, squeezing around the buttons, the fabric groaning. “I’m sorry.”

But you’re not, he can tell. There’s a hint of satisfaction in your voice, a touch of pride. And why shouldn’t there be? You’ve brought him, the ever-controlled Nanami Kento, to his knees. He loves you too much to ever want anything different.

“I’m a good man,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, curving his next thrust that he knows will brush against that spot you like.

“You’re an amazing man, Ken,” you moan in surprise, your hips lifting to meet his to seek more. “The best. Only the best for me. Only you, Kento.”

The praise makes him shake, the fire in his body raging like an inferno, burning his skin, breaking him into a sweat. He presses a knee into the table, throws one of your legs over his shoulders and savors the ragged way your name leaves his lips as he gives you everything.

“You feel so good,” he pants, his tongue licking the skin of your neck. He tastes the saltiness of your sweat, the sanitizing taste of perfume, the powdered creamer and sugar that sticks to your skin from the table. “So perfect.”

“Come on, Kento” you keen, your nails raking down the suit on his back. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He’s lost in you, in the feel of you, in the knowledge that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. Wanton, needy, completely undone.

Nothing else matters—not the party going on just floors above, not the risk of discovery, not the propriety you’re both abandoning. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the heat that’s consumed you both all summer, finally finding release.

Nanami’s thrusts become erratic, his rhythm faltering as the base of his spine tightens in a delicious way to let him know that he’s close. His hand slips between your bodies, past the silk of your rumpled periwinkle dress, gliding over your clit in well-practiced strokes and the leg over his shoulder tenses up, your head digging into the table, neck arching for him to see the flecks of sugar sticking to your neck.

“Ohhh right there Kento. Right there. Please, please I’m gonna cum—I’m—“ you smack a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, eyes shutting tight.

“Absolutely not.” Nanami hasn’t suffered for months just to be deprived of anything during this encounter. He yanks the hand from your mouth, pressing it hard into the table, and the shock on your face as you look up at him, the staccato of your breaths, the undeniable seriousness in his gaze even as he pistons into you, admiring the way your dress pools at your waist as he gives you more, harder, deeper until—

“Ohhhh fuck!” you cum with a long dragged out cry, your body clenching around him, walls locking around his cock to the point his orgasm is yanked from him as he falls over the edge with you, pulsing deep inside with a groan muffled against your neck.

He sags against you, both of your chests heaving against each other. He slips a hand behind you, trailing lightly up and down your glistening back as you lie beneath him, spent and satisfied.

As he slowly comes down, he presses a lingering kiss to your sweat-dampened hairline, the roots of your twistout beginning to frizz. There’s a hint of coconut from your leave-in as his nose brushes down to your cheek. So familiar, yet still so intoxicating after almost a year of smelling it. As if he could ever grow numb to the potent lure of your presence.

A ragged chuckle escapes him at that thought, the mirthful rumble making you pull up your head to look at him. Nanami drinks in the utterly debauched vision you make—beautiful brown sweaty skin, hair messy, lips swollen and smirking as per usual.

His arm tightens reflexively around the sensual curves of your waist, pulling you closer in a subconscious gesture of possession and longing. Because for all the delicious torture you’ve inflicted over the past few months with your endless parade of tempting summer dresses…he wouldn’t trade this hard-won moment for anything.

Nanami is many things—disciplined, regimented, a hardworking—albeit tired— professional. But he is also only human at his core. And you, his beautiful free-spirit of a partner, has a simply breathtaking talent for awaking the primal, unrestrained parts of him he usually keeps so rigorously leashed.

“You know,” you murmur in that velvety voice he loves so much. “The minute I realized the dress vanished from my cart was the minute I knew it would be the one.”

A sleepy chuckle breaks free from his lips at your words, the sound causing you to join in as well—a vibrant melody that coats his soul in pure contentment. Nosing closer, he peppers a line of feather light kisses along the line of your jaw. “You’ll never go easy on me, will you?”

“And rob myself of bringing down Nanami Kento piece by piece?” You snort, shooting him a look of pure, playful sin from beneath your lashes. “I might have to make sundress season a year-round thing.”

His answering groan is part growl, part disbelieving laughter as the palm behind your back glides along the elegant curve of your spine down to the bend of your hip. Ever the devilish temptress without even trying, even in the aftermath.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“That’s a good way to go,” you tease, pulling him down for another kiss, sweet and sticky and full of promise.

His hands slide along the canvas of your body, fingers dipping into the ridges of the open zipper of your dress. He’ll make sure it’s dry cleaned so you can wear it next year. And hopefully he’ll be better prepared.

When you giggle against his lips and dig your heels into his back, he realizes that there will be no amount of preparation when it comes to you.

Thanks for reading!

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

“Just let me finish this and I swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” (144) lets get down to bussines

Part 2 of "Spray of Blood"

Word count: 2724

reader gets lost trying to run back to King's Landing and Aemond, still splattered in blood, has to find her and bring her back to safety.

haha this is a joint effort it seems! Also I have wanted to write reader sitting on Aemond's face so thank you for #86

28. i’m just getting comfy

74. “Do you want me to stay?”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

98. “if we weren’t in public right now i’d have my head between your legs”

Aemond x wife!reader | smutty ending | 18+ only | fluff and a sprinkle of angst | Aemond isn't super happy lmao

You were lost.

Cursing, you stopped in the middle of the empty street, turning on the spot, surveying your unfamiliar surroundings.

"Fuck me sideways." You muttered, taking a moment to rub your aching temples.

You had indulged in too much spiced wine at the festival, muddling your already questionable orienteering skills.

"If the lady insists." A hissing voice accompanied a slender man emerging from the shadows of a stone building.

He held no weapon, seeming to think you easy prey as he strode forward, already unbuckling his trousers.

You still held the stone you had picked up when Aemond had confronted the men in the market, and so you collected your frayed nerves, taking careful aim as Aemond had taught you.

You threw the shard of brick, it struck true with a dull thud to the man's head. He went down like a sack of flour, hitting the damp cobblestones with a dull thud.

Shaking, you hurried on your way, in the direction you hoped the Red Keep was in. At least you were still walking uphill, that seemed to be a good sign.

After a few minutes of meandering, warm yellow light fell upon your face, a tavern in front of you that appeared cozy and welcoming. As you entered, you noticed a few other patrons, but the dining area and counter was mostly empty. A squat looking man was stacking dishware behind the bar counter as you took a seat.

He gave you a cursory glance with a raised eyebrow, you shifted to hide the fine fabric of your dress beneath the cloak you still wore. You pulled back your hood, wanting to be recognizable if Aemond passed the window searching for you.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked in a gruff baritone, seeming not to care what brought you to his establishment so long as you had gold.

"Do you have hot tea? Or something non-alcoholic?" You asked. "I just came from the fire festival and had a bit too much to drink there."

"Ah I see!" The man smiled, his ruddy cheeks reflecting the candlelight. "Yes, I can get you some green tea brewed up. Does wonders for a hangover."

"Thank you."

Minutes passed, turning to hours as you sat at the uncomfortable wooden table. You drank several mugs of steaming earthy tea, enjoying the way it warmed your body from the inside out.

"Are ye waiting for someone?" The bartender looked at you quizzically, clearly wondering why you were remaining for so long. All the other patrons had left for their homes by now.

"Yes, my husband."

"You're lost?"

You shifted uneasily in your seat, casting him a wary glance.

He raised his hands, a towel draped over his shoulder. "I mean you no harm miss, but if you'd like directions, I can give them." He glanced outside at the dark streets. "Though perhaps it best if you wait here, it's not safe for anyone to be wandering about right now."

"Where am I?"

He chuckled looked at you with a fatherly smile. "Outskirts of Flea Bottom."

You groaned.

"Not where you intended to be I expect. Not wearing a dress like that."

You shifted your cloak to cover yourself better.

"You have nothing to fear from me." The keeper reiterated. "I'll not cast you out till your husband comes to fetch you."

"Thank you." You lay your head upon your hands, staring glassy eyed out the window, praying to all the gods Aemond would find you.

You had fallen into a doze, jolted awake by the sound of the inn door slamming open and the exclamation of the barkeep still behind his counter.

Aemond, glorious with his shining hair and piercing violet eye, strode into the tavern, his gaze locked onto you.

"My-my prince! What an unexpected..." The tavern keeper trailed off as he watched Aemond walking purposefully toward you.

You rose from your seat, throwing your arms around Aemond's neck as he pulled you against him, his hands at your back, stroking soothingly as he kissed your ear.

You tried your best not to sob. "Aemond, I got lost."

"You're the wife of Aemond Targaryen?"

The two of you broke apart to turn to the front of the room, where the keeper was bowing low.

"He helped keep me safe." You interlocked your fingers with Aemond's.

Your husband stepped up to the rough wood counter, depositing a bag of clinking coins onto its surface. "You have my gratitude."

The man continued to bow, averting his gaze. Aemond made a soft "hmm" in the back of his throat, guiding you out of the warm room into the cool night air.

You didn't get far before he pulled you to a stop, his taut face illuminated silver in the moonlight. "I've been searching for you for hours, Y/N."

"I-"

He held up a hand to stop you from speaking. "You were not in our rooms. So, I returned to the square as quickly as I could, asking anyone still outside if they had seen you."

You looked down at your feet guiltily as Aemond continued.

"Imagine my surprise when I find a man collapsed upon the ground, a stone beside him and a lump on his forehead."

"He...had ill intentions." You whispered, still studying your shoes.

"Hmm. A shame I left him alive then." Aemond's fingers hooked under your chin, pulling your face to look up at him. "However, that is how I found you sitting in that tavern."

You slowly moved forward, tentatively wrapping your arms around Aemond's waist. You could tell how worn and anxious he was, specks of blood still upon his tunic from the men he'd dispatched earlier that evening.

"Aemond, I'm sorry for getting lost. I...was panicking and a little drunk." You smiled weakly as his face softened, his lilac eye roving your features as you rubbed small circles to the small of his back.

"I had intended this to be a relaxing evening of fun." Aemond said, giving a short laugh of derision. He cupped your face in his hands. You noticed they shook slightly. "I was beside myself with worry, Y/N." He brushed his soft lips to yours gently. "This is not a place for a woman to wander alone."

"You have me safe now, Aemond."

"And safe is where I will keep you."

He kissed you firmly, slanting his mouth over yours, his fingers tangling in your hair as you made a soft noise against him. In the tension of his body against your own you felt how worked up he was from the events of the night, the intensity with which he kissed you promised bruised lips in the morning.

“If we weren’t in public right now I'd have my head between your legs."

"Aemond." You whispered, shocked, as you checked over your shoulder for anyone listening. The streets were luckily empty, though several windows were wide open.

"Come." The prince grasped your hand firmly in his and began leading you in the correct direction of the Red Keep.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight of your chambers, lit with the orange glow of a blazing fire in the hearth that you immediately crossed to stand before, warming your hands.

Your large, clawed bathtub sat full of steaming water in the middle of the room.

Aemond came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I had the servants draw a bath for your return, we are fortunate it seems to still be hot."

You felt him beginning to loosen the ties of your dress. "Do you want me to stay?" He asked, nuzzling into your neck. "I'd understand if you need to be alone. It has been a...difficult evening."

"Please stay, Aemond. I need you with me, especially right now."

He kissed your neck and resumed undoing your dress. You smiled to yourself at his evident eagerness to see you laid bare before him.

The fabric of your dress and undergarments pooled around your feet, you leaned into Aemond's warm touch as he fondled the curves of your ass and hips with one hand, his other reaching around to stroke at your breasts.

You turned to him, allowing his gaze to roam your firelit body. "You are still covered in blood, my lord husband." Your wandering fingers began undoing the clasps of his own clothing, shedding each garment with tender care until he was as naked as you, his thick member already standing at attention.

You smiled coyly at him, allowing him to support your balance as you stepped into the hot water of the bath. You sank down into the silken water, scooting forward enough for Aemond to take his place behind you.

You pressed your back against him, your hands running along his legs as they caged your body, his arms wrapping around your torso.

"I'm just getting comfy." You murmured, leaning back so that your head rested against Aemond's chest, looking up at his adoring gaze.

He had removed his eyepatch, the sapphire gemstone glittering dazzlingly by the reflection of firelight against the water that now lapped against the edges of the wooden tub.

The two of you rested like this together, rubbing each other down with soap and wash cloths. You took your time cleansing Aemond's skin, feeling the knots in his tense muscles and kneading them loose, his eye fluttered shut at your loving attentions.

Only when the water had cooled and the two of you began to shiver, did you exit the bath, helping each other towel down until you were relatively dry. Aemond grabbed your waist, pulling you in for another scorching kiss, one of many he'd bestowed upon you that night.

"Lay on the bed for me."

You obeyed, perhaps misinterpreting his meaning as you wrapped yourself in your nightrobe before getting comfortable in bed. You watched Aemond from your cocoon of blankets as he busied himself trying to get the stains out of his tunic and undershirt.

"Aemond..." You called quietly, trying to entice him over with the lilt of your voice.

"The blood has set into the fabric long enough, Y/N. Give me a moment to try and lift it."

"Aemond." You wiggled beneath the covers, seeking to draw his gaze.

“Just let me finish this and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

"If you don't come over here now, I'm going to start touching myself."

You knew just what to threaten.

With a growl, Aemond threw down his ruined shirt upon the sofa, striding to the bed and throwing the blankets off your body. "Take that off." His dilated eye took in your tantalizing curves wrapped up in your fluffy nightrobe.

"I'm cold."

"Do not tease me anymore this eve." Aemond crawled over your prone form, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip. "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

You undid the tie around your waist, shifting the fabric off, exposing yourself once more to your husband's eager touch. His fingers rolled your pebbling nipples, tugging at your flesh, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as you arched into him.

"Already so wet for me." Aemond murmured against your lips, his hand cupping your sex, feeling between your slick folds.

You gasped at the feeling of him exploring you. In a fluid motion, you rolled your entwined bodies over, shifting to sit on his torso, looking down at Aemond's face, his curved lips parted in surprise.

"I want to be on top." You could barely speak, so entranced you were at the sight of him laid beneath you, his silver hair spread out atop the pillows. "Let me do this, please."

You rocked your hips, feeling his hard arousal beneath you as you stroked your vulva along Aemond's shaft. His eyelid fluttered at the sensation, his hands rising to grip your hips as you lost yourself in the feeling of him.

"Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

Your mouth parted, Aemond tugged you a little forward by his grip on your hips. "Are-are you sure I won't suffocate you?"

Aemond laughed. "If you do, I couldn't think of a better way to go."

Heat pooled in your belly as you scooted forward, bracing your hands against the bedframe as you hovered on your knees over Aemond's face. "You're sure?"

"Y/N."

Aemond rose just enough to tease your entrance with his nose, nuzzling against your swollen clit. You gasped, lowered yourself rather gracelessly onto his angular face.

You quivered, feeling Aemond's tongue working against you as you rocked gently against him. His chin, his nose all pressed against your most sensitive parts. The wet sound of him lapping up your essence filled the darkened room.

"Oh Aemond." You gripped the bedframe tighter, making sure to not actually suffocate your husband with your cunt no matter how he tried to pull you more against his searching mouth, his fingers pressing deep against the flesh of your thighs.

He grunted, the vibration of his voice causing you to clench around the tip of his tongue as he fucked it into you. His nose continued pressing and rubbing against your clit, Aemond moving his whole face with your movements as you began to grind down on him, losing your self control.

His name spilled from your panting mouth, your climax rushing over you like waves upon the sea cliffs. Aemond drank you down eagerly, his tongue lapping you up as though you tasted of the finest wine. You rode out your orgasm on his face, your legs shaking as you lifted yourself off him, collapsing to the mattress as your husband rolled over you once more. His hair was a mess, his lips and chin soaked from your juices. You bit your bottom lip at the lewd sight, his eye tracking the movement.

Aemond kissed you, more gently than you had anticipated, his tongue searching your mouth, allowing you to taste your own release as he lined his cock to your entrance. You gripped the back of his head, gasping against him as he sunk slowly into you. Aemond's breath filled your lungs as his cock stretched you out deliciously, filling you until he was fully seated within your still quivering walls.

Aemond broke your kiss, pulling away enough to watch your face as he began rutting into you. His gentleness gave way to a rougher, more desperate pace, his cock brushing your cervix with every punishing stroke. You clung to him, your legs rising instinctively to allow him deeper access.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, his chest still flush against your own as he nibbled the shell of your ear. "I can feel you tightening around me." You cried out as he increased his pace still more, fucking you deep into the mattress. "I need you to come. Show me you're mine." His cock twitched inside you. "Mine alone to claim."

"I am yours, Aemond." You felt your second orgasm of the night begin to rush through your body, your spasming quim already beginning to milk his member. "Forever yours."

Your name, so sweet on Aemond's tongue, filled the night air, mingling with your wordless moans of ecstasy as your husband spilled his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He pushed himself as deep into you as he could, remaining rooted there until you had both come down from the high of your climax.

Your legs were shaking in earnest now, Aemond reluctantly pulled away, his cum spilling out of you onto the now ruined bedsheets. Exhausted, satiated, and heedless of the mess you'd made, Aemond pulled you against him, encasing you in his arms. He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you made a pillow of his chest, his legs still tangled with your own.

Sleep took you quickly, a lock of Aemond's silken hair wrapped around your forefinger as you had a habit of doing when seeking comfort.

Aemond lay awake for a long while after you had drifted off, his mind still alive with the fear and rage that had consumed him mere hours before. Bedding you had taken the edge off, however the many gruesome possibilities of what could have happened remained unbidden and unwelcome.

He held you tighter against his lithe body, feeling the reassuring rise and fall of your chest on his, the light snores emitting from your slack mouth. Eventually exhaustion overtook Aemond, his eye falling closed, his lips still pressed to your head even in sleep.

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 4 months

Text

Feel.

Note: A lovely request by another lovely anon. Thank you so much for this, I hope you'll enjoy it as I really loved to write it!

Warnings: fluff/slight angst; mention of blood/battle/wounds/death.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

Summary: Sihtric wasn't the only one who suffered after the battle of Tettenhall.

Word count: 2,9k

Masterlist

You had never seen so much blood in your life.

Being Sihtric's wife was often a frightening life as you never knew how your beloved Dane would return to you after battle, or if he even would. You had patched him up time after time, from minor bruises on his pretty face to deep cuts on his arms and legs, resulting in more scars on his body. You knew today wouldn't be any different, but when Uhtred and what was left of his army returned after the battle of Tettenhall, you felt yourself become sick at the sight of your husband. So much blood. The shaved side of his head was covered with blood, a mixture of his own and those of the men he had killed himself, and it dripped down his neck, drenching his tunic and running down to his arms and hands. The closer he came to you, the more blood you saw and the more unwell you began to feel… until everything turned black

You opened your eyes again moments later, after Sihtric had caught you in his arms when your legs had given out underneath you at the sight of him. But even though you knew your eyes were open, everything was still black, pitch black. And you felt the warm sun on your face while you laid in the tall grass, feeling your husband's arms around you as he cradled you.

'Temporary blindness,' the healer told Sihtric.

'Temporary?' Sihtric asked, and you heard the panic in his voice, 'what does that mean?'

There was a silence, and even though you couldn't see, you could feel it was an awkward silence before the healer spoke again.

'It means,' she scoffed, 'that it is temporary. This is the result of a sudden trauma and it will heal itself over time.'

'But what if it doesn't?' your husband asked.

The healer didn't reply, instead you only heard your husband's heavy, panicked breathing above you as he held you in his arms.

'Hey!' Sihtric suddenly shouted, causing you to flinch at the sound of his hard, hoarse voice, 'I asked what happens if it doesn't heal!'

You once again didn't hear the healer anymore, and you suddenly felt the familiar rough fingers of your husband gently caressing your face. You carefully brought your hand to his as he touched your face, and you slowly moved it up his arm, feeling the already dried and thickly crusted blood that had painted him in battle underneath your fingers. Your breath hitched upon the feeling and Sihtric leaned his forehead gently against yours, while your hand reached the neck of his armour and you curled your fingers around the leather, keeping him close.

'Sihtric,' you cried softly, 'what if… what if I can never see again? What if,' you said with a sob, 'what if I can never see you again?'

'It will heal,' he whispered, but the tremble in his voice told you he wasn't convinced, 'I promise, it will heal. I'll… I'll find a way.'

'But it is up to the Gods,' you sniffled, 'they will have to decide-'

'Then we shall let them decide,' Sihtric hushed you, 'but until then,' he took both your hands and slipped one under his leather armour, upon his heart, and the other on his face, allowing you to feel his coarse facial hair, 'you can always feel me, my love. You will always be able to feel me.'

You felt the movements of Sihtric's horse you were mounted on. You still couldn't see Sihtric, nor his horse, but you were seated facing your husband as he had climbed upon the horse after you. Two days had passed since the battle of Tettenhall and you were now all on your way back home again. You had wrapped your arms around Sihtric and buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his earthy scent and feeling the warmth of his skin against your own.

'I'm scared,' you suddenly whispered.

'I know,' Sihtric said, and you felt the vibration of his low voice as he spoke softly, 'but we will fix this, I promise. Just let us first reach home.'

You hummed softly in agreement, as there was not much else either of you could do in this very moment.

'How much longer?'

'One more day of travel, my love,' he answered, 'we will stop and set up camp soon, before the sun sets.'

You felt the texture of his clothing beneath your fingertips while you both swayed lightly as the horse carried you. Sihtric's leather armour was hard, thick, and you were thankful that Lord Uhtred paid your husband well enough to be able to own a piece of such fine craftsmanship. You silently counted the rivets you felt as you traced your fingers up and down; hundredth and thirty one rivets protected your husband's chest during battle. Hundredth and thirty one rivets kept his leather armour together up front, while all it would take was only one sword to his throat or only one axe to his face to have him taken away from you. You slid your hands up further, feeling the pleasantly warm pendant Sihtric wore around his neck as the sun had been shining its light upon it, and then you felt the warmth of his skin again. You slowly trailed your fingers up and over his throat, merely grazing his Adam's apple and feeling it move as he swallowed. You explored further, feeling his pleasant, but sometimes painfully harsh and short facial hair as you touched his chin. You moved your slightly trembling fingers up to his lips, feeling they were slightly dry and a little chapped here and there, and then you felt his lips curl into a smile.

Sihtric moved his hand from the small of your back up to your neck, and after you moved your hands carefully up to touch the sides of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair on one side while feeling the stubble on his other, shaved side, he pulled you closer until his lips collided with yours into a gentle but long and firm kiss.

'Promise not to leave my side?' you asked, lips still touching.

'I promise,' Sihtric murmured, his warm breath on your lips and his hands on your skin making you feel safe despite your lack of vision.

The camp was made not much later and Sihtric kept his promise to you. He did feel bad that he wasn't helping out the other men setting everything up, but every time he only slightly moved, causing you to suddenly feel the loss of him close by, you panicked and clung onto his hand or arm, whichever you managed to get a hold of first. And so Uhtred had given Sihtric a nod that he just had to stay put next to you, as no one could imagine what it must be like to suddenly lose your eyesight.

It had been two days already, and now you were going into your third night of sudden blindness. As the previous nights, Sihtric had gathered several blankets and other soft materials that made for a bed for you. As it was summer, most people simply slept in the grass or on the sand under the stars, but your husband wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. You usually didn't mind sleeping on the ground if you had to, but now that you couldn't see what it was that suddenly slithered by or crawled over your hand, Sihtric refused to let you go through that kind of unpleasantry.

He helped you out of your clothes and then took off his own, leaving you both in only your undergarments. And once you were comfortably on the improvised bed, Sihtric knew what you needed to feel safe and secure and he carefully moved to lay on top of you. Without putting his entire weight on you, but just enough to make you feel as if nothing could harm you, he settled between your thighs and wrapped his arms around you. Even though you couldn't see, Sihtric had tried his hardest to make the tent you were in as cosy as possible. He firmly believed you could feel the energy of a place, and since he only wanted you to feel positivity, safety and love, he had lit a few candles that were meant to guide one in the darkest of the night if needed.

Sihtric looked at you, slowly tracing your cheek with his rough fingers while he felt his emotions were about to overwhelm him. Everything that had happened the past few days was finally catching up on him, but the worst feeling was that he felt absolutely powerless when it came to you. He buried his face in your neck and nuzzled your soft skin slowly while he fought his tears.

You heard a sudden change in his breathing as he held you, a soft hitch in his throat before he inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. You felt his beating heart underneath your hand as it was placed upon his bare chest, and its pace began to speed up. You listened carefully while you allowed the warmth of his body to embrace you, like form fitting armour, and you trailed your other hand over his back, feeling every scar he had ever earned. Your eyes were closed as you breathed in his scent, and you moved your hand from his back up into his soft curls, feeling the cold silver beads that were braided into his hair. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, you felt something warm trickle down your neck just before you heard your husband sniffle, and you wrapped both your arms tightly around him.

'My dearest,' you whispered, feeling your lips graze his ear, 'do not cry, please.'

'But I did this to you,' he said softly, his pain broke his voice like it broke your heart, 'I didn't know how much blood-'

'We both didn't know this would happen,' you hushed him, holding him as close as you possibly could, 'it was not the first time I have seen you fresh out of battle. It was not the first time I have seen you wounded or covered in blood…'

'But it affected you this time,' he sniffled, 'and I am sorry.'

'You do not have to be sorry,' you whispered and searched for the pendant around his neck, 'all we can do is pray to the Gods,' you clutched the protection symbol in your fist, 'we can only pray.'

Sihtric didn't speak, but he hummed softly in agreement and sniffled again. You felt him move slightly and figured he was propped up on his elbows after you gradually lost the feeling of his body weight pressed onto you, which was shielding you. You opened your eyes but everything was still dark, and you quietly listened when you heard his soft whispers and something move in the sand next to you. You couldn't quite place the sound you heard above his inaudible whispers, but you knew it was a familiar one. It was a sound you had heard many times before, mainly when you were still a child, but you couldn't recall what caused it exactly. It wasn't a harsh sound, it was rather soft, but every now and then the soft soothing sound was interrupted by a sharper, scratching sound.

'What are you doing?' you whispered while your hands searched his biceps, then trailing up to his shoulders and back onto his chest; feeling his heartbeat underneath your hands again, reassuring you that your other half was really there with you and still alive.

Sihtric's whispers then stopped along with the familiar yet unknown sound close to your ear, and for a few long seconds you only heard the crickets outside and the soft chatter of men outside your tent.

'Praying,' your husband then said.

Sihtric sniffled again, and you swore you heard the sound of a single teardrop fall down onto the uncovered earth just next to your face. You heard it just before you felt his body being lowered down onto yours again, and then another single teardrop fell quietly, and you felt it land onto your cheek just before you felt his lips pressed onto yours. He then kissed your face all over, gently, and softly hummed childhood lullabies in your ear until you fell asleep.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of someone cursing after having dropped a bowl of food right outside your tent and you immediately clung onto Sihtric, who had shifted to lay underneath you while you were asleep. He had held you, sleeping on top of him, tightly wrapped into his arms through the night, with a blanket pulled up all over you. Everything was still dark, so you closed your eyes again and buried your face in his neck, slowly waking him up as you peppered his skin with soft kisses. You heard Sihtric hum quietly and pleased as he began to wake up at the feeling of your lips all over him. He then accidentally pulled the blanket, uncovering your face, and when you mindlessly opened your eyes again you froze and stared at him. Your husband blinked, attempting to wake up when he lost the feeling of your mouth on his neck, and his eyes grew as big as yours when he noticed a shift in you.

'What?' he whispered and carefully cupped your cheeks to not startle you, while his eyes darted rapidly over your face, 'what's… what's wrong, darling?'

You didn't speak for a moment, you just kept your eyes fixated on your husband. And just when Sihtric's heart skipped a panicked beat, he saw your lips curl into a smile.

'I just… realised,' you whispered, 'that my husband is even more handsome than I remembered him to be.'

Sihtric stared at you, and then sighed in relief before he smiled too and kissed you lovingly. And he will always believe that the old Gods had healed you, after he had drawn a bindrune in the sand right next to you the night before, while he had whispered his prayers.

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

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saylorsaysstop · 6 months

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Third Date Etiquette | Bucky Barnes

a/n: Bucky is def my comfort character and writing for him when I haven't in so long is AHHHH. please enjoy 💗

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

The ingredients lay before you on the table. Potatoes, onions, garlic, carrots, and most importantly–chicken. Your nerves were wracked as you studied the contents of the recipe over and over, practically committing it to memory. It was your third date with the extremely captivating and handsome man, Bucky Barnes. You two quite literally ran into one another at the local Starbucks–you with a very sweet and frothy latte, Bucky with a bitter iced black coffee.

“Hi,” Bucky had said to you, piercing blue eyes like windows to the soul. You immediately took comfort. Weird, but you felt safe and you hadn’t been in his presence all but for 30 seconds.

“Hi,” you answer with a sheepish smile, admiring your hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He smiled in the friendliest of ways. It wasn’t every day you slammed into the hard chest of a man who looked as though he just stepped off of the latest Men’s GQ issue. His scent was homey, earthy. Woodsy and aromatic, he smelled like citrus and sex. The good kind of sex, too. Mouth-watering sex, the kind that will have your toes curling and aching at a memory recalled throughout your normal day.

Introductions were quickly exchanged and you were shocked when the stranger who you found to be Bucky asked for your number. By the end of the day, he asked you to dinner, and now just a few weeks later this was lucky date number three. And you offered to cook for him. Your grandmother said that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So with that information tucked away nicely in your brain, you asked if he had any food allergies, and mentioned chicken, and Bucky was immediately on board. He offered to bring the wine.

As you began to prepare your chicken and cut up your veggies, you heard the knock on your apartment door. A soft smile spans across your face as you wash up your hands and race for the door, eager like a teenager falling in love for the first time. Inhaling slowly to try and dampen the quick thud of your heart, you check your reflection in the mirror and ensure you look presentable. Opening the door, Bucky stands there in a pair of dark jeans that hug thick thighs wonderfully, a navy blue v-neck tee, and his jacket. In his hand is a bouquet of roses and the bottle of wine he promised to bring.

“Hey, Doll,” he smiles. It didn’t take him long to give you a sweet little pet name, and ‘doll’ was so fitting, as if he came straight out of the 1950s.

“Hello, handsome.” you say breathlessly, ushering him to come inside. He steps over the threshold and pops a gentle kiss onto your cheeks, his warm lips and slight scruff a perfect mixture that sends your heart into overdrive and an ocean down below.

You take the flowers and wine from him, laughing over your shoulder as he comments on your sweet little apartment. “It’s very cozy in here.” he laughs, admiring the bookshelf in the corner filled to the brim with all of your favorite reads. From historical romance to paranormal, all the way to romantasy and the occasional dark romance, you had something for every mood.

“Thank you!” you beam. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Bucky felt his heart soften at that. It’s not much but it’s home. There was nothing more he wanted in this world than to feel at home. To be quite honest, he hadn’t felt the essence of home since Steve, and he wasn’t so certain that he’d ever get to experience it again. But then there you were… bumping into him in that coffee shop. With your bright smile, ease of conversation, and breathtaking beauty. He was smitten and starstruck by you.

“The flowers are gorgeous, Bucky. Thank you so much.” You exhale as you place the vase of water and flowers as a centerpiece on your kitchen table. Bucky looked around, noticing the prepped chicken sitting in a stainless steel roasting pan. Veggies were lined around it like a little bed for the chicken to rest on. He smiled to himself, eager to have a woman offer to cook for him on a date. It wasn’t something he was used to and he wouldn’t take for granted the sweet gesture.

“I’m glad you like them.” He answers. You look at his jacket and laugh.

“Go on, make yourself comfy. Take your coat off. You can lay it over one of the chairs.”

Bucky wets his lips as he shimmies out of his leather and lays it over the back of the wooden chair as you instructed. He admired the full view of you for the first time tonight. You wore a dress that dropped just to your knees and a pair of blush pink flats. You wanted something semi-formal but comfortable. The dress hugged your curves and Bucky’s mouth watered at the image of his hands tracing every single one, committing them to memory. He opened and closed the fist of his metal limb, his eyes fluttering shut. He wanted desperately to know how you tasted and not just what lay beneath that dress and panties he coould only imagine looked like–but your mouth. Your mouth looked so sweet and delectable, lips that were made to fit perfectly against his.

“Do you need help with anything?” Bucky asked, gazing around at the nicely-kept kitchen. You had cleaned up as you went along cooking this evening.

“Yeah… You can make yourself useful.” You smirk with a playful tone to your voice. “You can open that bottle of wine while I grab us two glasses… You grabbed my favorite.”

Bucky laughed. “I remembered you ordering it on our first date.”

You stalled in front of the cabinets, the memory of that first day clouding your mind. How much of a gentleman he was despite everyone saying that chivaraly was dead. He pulled out your chair, let you wear his jacket on the way out because it was practically freezing, and he walked you to your doorstep where he kissed you goodnight. Not on the lips, but on the cheek, because he wanted to set the standard with you–that you were worth more than jumping headfirst. He wanted to feel you out, take his time. After all, you would be the first woman he’d grown to fancy in a very long time… and after Sam’s whistling over the picture Bucky showed him of you once he confiscated your socials, Sam was hollering for Bucky to quickly lock it down.

“You paid attention.” you giggle, realizing that the wine glasses were sitting on the very top shelf. Grumbling, you were about to grab the stepstool before a warm hand ghosted across yours and a hard chest was felt against your back. Bucky effortlessly grabbed two glasses and locked eyes with you, his eyes not helping but to drop to your lips.

If you weren’t trying to impress him with your cooking skills, you would’ve forgotten dinner all together and jumped straight to dessert.

Bucky smiled at you as he unloaded the two glasses into your grasp before he went to work on popping the cork. You were enveloped with that homey scent once more, that citrus sending a shock appeal through your loins, your eyes fluttering closed. If you weren’t paying attention to maintaining your balance, you might just pooled to the floor then and there.

As he popped the cork and you put the chicken in the oven and set a timer on your phone, he offered you a glass.

“Cheers,” You smiles, clinking your glass to his and taking a sip. The feel of the wine on your tongue was smooth and silky, causing you to ponder if Bucky’s tongue felt the same. You lick your lips as you sat the glass down and admire him.

“What?” Bucky asks.

Smirking, you shake your head. “I’m just surprised is all.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the statement. “Surprised?”

You nod your head. “How I happened to score running directly into the arms of someone this good looking.”

Your comment on his appearance sent a flush down the back of his neck. Bucky Barnes was not the kind of man that blushed, but he suddenly felt an odd sense of heat rise on the apples of his cheeks. He tucked his tongue into the pocket of his cheek and chuckled, cursing under his breath at how a woman, for the first time in his life, had the upper hand on him.

“You’re all for flattery tonight.” Bucky chuckles.

“It’s the truth.” You don’t back away. That was another thing that pulled Bucky into your orbit. He loved that you said anything that came to mind. It didn’t matter how outlandish or awkward it could sound, he loved it. You spoke your mind. You were the epitome of fearless and he knew he could use some more of that in his life.

The longer you two stood there and the silence grew, it was one of comfort. You both drank from your glasses and Bucky knew that if he didn’t take his chance now, he wouldn’t ever do it. He stepped closer and circled a hand around your waist, dropping low on your hip. The feel of his large hand through the fabric of your dress sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as you peered up at him.

“Jumping to dessert first?” You dare to ask.

“Doll, dessert has been on my mind since I woke up this morning.” Bucky drawled, his voice rich and deep. His warm breath fanned over your bottom lip as he searched your eyes, waiting for the invitation, eager for your confirmation that you too wanted some dessert before dinner.

Grinning wildly, the tip of your head and the subtle pushing into his hard frame was all he needed. Bucky caught your thin between his fingertips and dipped low, his lips slotting against yours.

Perfect fit.

His lips molded to yours. They were soft and pleasant and warm and everything you could’ve dreamed of. He kissed you with such softness that it stole the breath from your lungs. You unhooked your fingers from around the stem of your wineglass and raised them, laying them over his shoulders. You took the leap of courage and deepened the kiss, being the first to run your tongue across his bottom lip, asking for permission to infiltrate.

Bucky opened his mouth a little wider and your tongues touched which sent both of you into a frenzy. A low grunt of approval climbed up Bucky’s throat followed by a breathy moan leaving yours. He turned you both so that the curve of your back was pressed into the island. He pushed forward, your body folding slightly across the granite as he kissed you deeper, kissed you as if you were the oxygen that was snatched from his lungs, kissed you like there would be no tomorrow.

“Bucky,” You gasp his name as you pull away for a breath of fresh air. But you were so desperate to kiss him again. You never wanted to stop.

Bucky’s eyes flickered with a deep sense of want and you had a strong feeling this date might just go to third base.

He smirked down at you, the playfulness of his eyes putting you on high alert. His thumb grinded into your hip and in a flash, he had you lifted and your bottom on the counter. Wedging his body between your knees, a shrill of laughter escaped you as you drape your arms over his shoulders. Bucky comes back in, diving head first for more, this time with a lot more passion.

He didn’t hold back. Bucky’s hands gripped your sides and danced up until he was grabbing your face, the gasp flooding your lips at the mix of cold of his metal hand and warmth of his flesh one. You groan louder against his mouth as you tangle your legs around his waist and locking your ankles.

“How much longer on that timer?” Bucky asked between deepening kisses.

You glance down at your phone. “30 minutes.” You giggle.

Talk about some third date etiquette. You wanted this more than anything.

“30 is all I need, Doll.” Bucky laughs, lifting you off the counter and leading you to the couch where he climbs on top of you, his hard body pressing against yours.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel fic #sebastian stan character #sebastian stan

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greatlydelirious · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

Kratos x F!Reader

wordcount: 4.1k words

summary: Two lost souls find comfort in each other’s company.

warnings: slow-burn, falling in love, angst, fluff, bedsharing, lore heavy

a/n: This is a teaser of a scene between the reader and Kratos in the giant fic, “Of Gods and Men” that I’m writing. This is my “proof of concept” for you guys that I’m actually working on it. (The reader is OC in regards to some characteristics, but skin color is not specified.)

“…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.” - Homer, The Iliad

Voices ignite like fueled flames outside Kratos’s bedroom as someone enters Sindri’s home. Not just anyone can stir up that much ruckus though. The arrival of Kratos always elicited a flurry of questions and action. Despite your want to check on the god you don’t move from your supine position on the hard bed.

You continue to count the cracks in the ceiling above as if the number you came up with would unearth some deep truth within yourself. Time became a foreign concept as you tried to convince your body to relax. Sleep is elusive to you despite your mind’s craving for rest. Sindri told you, just as he did Atreus, that sleeping would make all the troubles of your mind work themselves out. Easier said than done.

That’s how you find yourself on a bed that’s not yours. One that you’ve only slept in once but couldn’t forget the feeling of. The furs below smell of him, earthy with notes of smoke and musk that remind you of the lush jungles in your home realm of Vanaheim.

Home.

It had been centuries since the last time you felt the security of such an ideal. To the dismay of your fickle heart, you felt that sense of contentment that comes with being home merely weeks ago in the arms of another. Someone you tried to remind yourself you couldn’t have. Someone who, like you, made a pact to never let themselves be kept in mind or body to another again.

It’s strange how night devolved hardened hearts into feeling such soft vulnerability. Memories have a way of burrowing deep in the brains of even those who try to forget. You’re sitting at the dining table in front of the roaring furnace. The warmth doesn’t completely stave off the coldness that stems from more than just the weather.

Sindri’s home is filled with a rare stillness, but it only works to grate on your nerves rather than bring you peace. Solace is nearly impossible to find in a world full of gods and men. Throw in the endless monsters and magic, and the notion is nothing but a fantasy for the whimsical. That you are not.

Your head darts up when a large shadow appears across the table. Wood groans as Kratos settles in the seat. It’s not often that the two of you get to sit in each other’s company alone without having other things on your mind like hunting or survival. The gripes of being a god and goddess in the opposition to the All-Father are endless.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Kratos grunts in response as he reaches for the pitcher of mead abandoned in the middle of the table. He fills the large tankard next to it to the brim before putting the pitcher back down with a weighty thump. You watch transfixed as Kratos’s adam’s apple bobs with each pull he takes from the cup.

The veins in his neck bulge and when some droplets of mead spill from the corners of his mouth, you can’t help but trail their path down his beard. For a moment you forget what was keeping you up in the first place.

“Something troubles you.”

A statement, not a question.

“I’m fine, Kratos. My woes matter not.” You feign indifference as you lean back in your chair, like his notice of your mood doesn’t make your heart leap in your chest.

Kratos leans forward, his hulking form hovering over some of the table, “Speak the truth, woman.” The word woman comes out in a growl, lingering with a threat that would never be followed through. Yet, it’s still effective enough to make you give in.

Your eyes move to focus on the expertly crafted wooden surface under your hands. Calmness is common nature for you, but something about Kratos’s piercing gaze makes you fumble to find words. Dryness coats your mouth as if your body was cursed to not utter your torment.

“I had a twin sister once. Her name was Hnoss, everyone always said we were identical, but I still think she was prettier. She…”

When your voice begins to crack you stop. Emotions you’ve suppressed for hundreds of years come bubbling to the surface. Thinking about your sister was one thing, but voicing it out loud made it all too real again. Like she’s not what haunts your dreams, but the young girl you once played in ponds and climbed trees with.

“Go on.”

The earnestness makes you chance a glance up. A small, sad smile curves your lips at the sight of Kratos’s focus trained on you. He may not say much, but he always listened. No wonder Mimir didn’t mind being stuck with the man.

“She often went to Bifröst, a rainbow bridge that reaches between Midgard and Asgard, hoping to run into our father. People predicted that Hnoss would reunite our parents. Alas, hope is not always enough to alter reality.”

Kratos slides his tankard toward you, giving you a moment of reprieve without a word. Picking it up, you swirl the amber ale with a twinge of bitterness. Normally you would say gods made pitiful fathers. That was until you met Kratos and Atreus.

The god makes a habit of surpassing expectations.

Sending a quick prayer to the lost goddess mother of Vanaheim you take a giant swig of the mead. Soft notes of bready malt accompany aromatics with a musty, oaky finish coats your tongue. A clicking noise escaped through your teeth as you cringe at the overpowering taste.

The sound of Kratos humming in approval grounds you from your wandering thoughts. You nod at him in appreciation before taking a steadying breath and continuing,

“During her visits, there was a god by the name of Heimdall who kept watch over the rainbow bridge that would entertain her with stories of old and new. One day he revealed to Hnoss that he possessed night vision and never slept. He also claimed to have existed since the beginning of time and told her tales about the creation of various things.

While our father remained absent, Hnoss was taken to Baldur's Stead to comfort her in her sorrow since it was believed to be a place where healing occurred. Baldur’s wife Nanna would often cradle her during these times of profound need. One time in particular, with Nanna by her side, Hnoss shared a strange dream she had about Queen Hela, a queen who was half living woman and half corpse. In her dream, Hela entered Asgard and declared ‘A lord of the Aesir I must have to dwell with me in my realm beneath the earth.’ Hnoss was paralyzed by fear after experiencing this dream.”

You take another swig from the tankard before handing it back to Kratos. Obsidian eyes stay locked on you as their owner downs the rest of its contents.

“What happened to your sister?”

“Hnoss was never the same after that. They say that those who use seidr magic will eventually succumb to the evils of its art. Unfortunately for her, it was true. Similar to Baldur, she died a needless death.”

And just like all of the Vanir people. Many of their lives were taken by the power-hungry Aesir for no other reason than greed. Peace in these realms always comes at a price.

“So that’s why I’m troubled, Kratos. Now my own dreams are filled by her. No matter how hard I try to forget.”

Kratos hums in acknowledgment, “I too know the pain of losing a sibling.”

Comfortable silence hangs between the two of you for a couple of minutes. The time is filled with unspoken understanding lined with a sense of melancholy.

“Drink.”

Kratos seems to present a bottle of wine out of nowhere but you don’t hesitate to accept it. Not even gods are above drinking their sorrows away. Another pitcher of mead and bottle of wine later and you’re drunk. Loose-lipped, fumbled-word, soft-legged drunk.

You’re currently giggling like a fool as you lean against the bedroom door simply staring at Kratos while he sits on his bed. When you started to create too much of a ruckus in the living room he took into his room since you refused to leave his side. You’d slap yourself in the forehead for that fact the following days later.

“Come.”

Your feet move before your mind can fully process the command. It’s as if your body is compelled to obey him without hesitation. The idea goes against everything you stand for. You ran from the one home you’d ever known and the one man that ever truly loved you, because of your refusal to submit to any man or god. Thankfully, the mead-fueled haze creeping into your brain keeps you from spiraling any further.

Kratos tilts his head to look up at you as you stand between his thick legs. A lazy smile spreads across your face and before you can think you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Although he captures your wrist, he doesn’t pry you away. Tentatively, your thumb rubs small circles into the rough flesh.

For a moment he indulges in your touch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You smell like vanilla with a citrus charge of tangerine and cinnamon. Something tantalizingly sweet, forbidden.

A rumbling noise emanates from Kratos’s chest when your thumb ghosts along the scar on his right eye. You wonder how he got the nasty slice. What god put it there many years ago. Unfortunately, Kratos is still a mystery to you. Bits and pieces of his life are shared sparingly through short stories during long journeys, but nothing else beyond that.

Nothing else beyond that. The four words ring in your ears. What are you doing? It’s not your right to be in his room, near his bed, and touching him of all things. You are companions, sure. Friends? Maybe. But partners? Nothing of the sort.

Any semblance of tipsiness you had quickly evaporates, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ You stop when Kratos brings his other hand to your hip, squeezing lightly.

“No need to explain. Not to me.”

Your hand drops when he moves to lay on his side on the bed. Kratos scoots back until his back is against the wall.

“Lay.”

When you hesitate, he pats the small space in front of him in an almost comedic fashion due to his large size, “Lay, agápi”

The word he calls you is spoken in a language you’ve never heard before, but he says it with such tenderness that it makes you slide into the bed. You start to think you’ve been sleeping this whole time when Kratos wraps a thick arm around your waist to pull you flush against his front. After three years of pining, you’re in the arms of the man you admired. The sudden realization is almost too much.

“Will you tell me a story from your homeland?”

Kratos’s silence at your abrupt question makes you huff out a laugh. Butterflies were swarming in your belly and if you didn’t do something about them you would never fall asleep.

Was it childish for you to ask for a bedtime story? Perhaps. But this might be the last time you get to have Kratos to yourself like this. You gently nudge him with your leg. It doesn’t even slightly jostle the mountain of a man, but it does keep his attention.

“Come on! An old man like yourself must know hundreds.”

After a beat, Kratos sounds almost bashful if that emotion was even possible for the god, “There’s this… poem.”

“What’s it about?

“A cunning general and a war over forbidden love.”

Ironic.

“Is it based on truth?”

“Yes, but I prefer the poem.”

You giggle at the displeasure lacing his tone.

“Can you recite a line for me?”

Kratos grunts at the way your tired eyes have you looking at him through your lashes. You’re the picture of innocence and natural beauty. It stirs something inside him that’s laid dormant for years. He would say Aphrodite’s beauty paled in comparison to yours, but you’re more than that. You’re a beauty beyond comparison wrapped in a warm light.

“I wish that strife would vanish away from among gods and mortals, and gall, which makes a man grow angry for all his great mind, that gall of anger that swarms like smoke inside of a man's heart and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.”

You twist your head to the side to look back at Kratos. The darkness in the room keeps his features hidden yet you still can’t help but smile. A truly genuine, happy smile despite the small crookedness from your drunken state.

“Wow… I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one breath. Didn’t think you were one for lovely words.”

Kratos makes a low noise in his throat, contemplating for a moment if letting you in his room, in his bed, was really a good idea. When you suddenly snuggle back into his front, he doesn’t move a muscle. Your soft and warm against the hard expanse of his chest. The word “comforting” comes to the forefront of his mind but he tries his best to suppress the feeling.

Only to fail when you open your mouth again.

“The totality of emotions can either make or break a man. Let them in, Kratos.” Your voice oozes drowsiness encompassed by a softness you saved for his son Atreus. It’s an inflection filled with sweet sincerity and motherly care.

When a light snore reaches his ears, Kratos looks down at your face. You’re already sound asleep. His arms tighten a fraction before letting himself close his eyes. He told himself it was just for a night.

It’s never that simple.

For long seconds after you woke up the next morning you took in the sleeping man’s face. His features were free of stressed lines and his usual frown. Kratos looked even more handsome under the lull of sleep.

His arms were secured around you like a lifeline. It wasn’t a lover’s embrace, but the comfort of another person’s body aiding you both into a dreamless sleep. Although, it would be a lie if you said your heart didn’t flutter when you woke up to his face buried in your neck, the scruff of his beard making your skin prickle and heat.

You managed to slip out of the bed without waking the beast of a man. A feat when he held you so tight. When you made it to the door you chanced one more look back at Kratos, a heaviness settling inside you. For days you’ll blame your abrupt intimacy on you both drinking, but it would take oceans of alcohol to muddy the god’s mind.

Kratos never said anything about that night; never said that you helped him have the first truly peaceful sleep in his lifetime.

The sane part of your brain is cursing you for laying in Kratos’s bed like a loyal dog waiting for its master. Especially when he gave you no inkling that your presence was wanted. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you flinch when the door opens.

Kratos doesn’t falter at your uninvited presence as he shuts the bedroom door with a heavy sigh. You sit up on his bed as he takes off his armor with rough hands, letting the items loudly clank to the floor with little care. The blades go first, then his cuffs, and the axe.

Concern fills you at his sullen state. Emotions can only be bottled up for so long and Kratos was an expert at doing just that. You know he doesn’t want your help, but he needed it more than he’ll ever admit.

“You carry your burdens with you in mind and hand.” Your eyes trail to his Blades of Chaos on the floor. They act as physical reminders of the pain and suffering he caused not only strangers and gods, but the ones he loved the most.

“What do you know of carrying burdens?” His voice is gruff, but not fueled with malice.

“Don’t you remember that night?”

Guilt washes over Kratos’s features as remembrance dawns on him. The furrow of his brows and the twitch of his jaw is evidence enough. Sighing, you scoot to the edge of the bed, “I will not claim to understand your suffering Kratos, but I do know what it means to be lost. To follow your path while being confused as to why you must. To wonder why you get to live when they don’t.”

Kratos’s shoulders are visibly tense as you stare up at him. Standing up, an idea pops into your head that is so outlandish that you whisper it in hopes that he doesn’t completely hear it.

“For just one night give your burdens to me. Let me take care of you, Kratos. Someone needs to. Let that someone be me.”

A part of you doesn’t think but knows he will reject you. Especially when those eyes filled with shadows stare at yours unblinking and unwavering in their passivity. Who were you to ask for something so personal?

A love-sick fool, that’s who.

Every fiber of your being is pulled toward Kratos, but that doesn’t mean the feeling is mutual. Dejection washes over you at your boldness fueled by foolish hope. Right when you’re going to walk away, Kratos clears his throat.

“Okay.”

You blink at him like a small child would at the sight of a giant bear. Odin himself must have been playing a trick on you because you can’t believe that Kratos just accepted your proposition. For a solid minute, you stay standing with your chests inches apart.

Heat blooms in your cheeks as you become acutely aware of your closeness. Every deep breath he takes causes his taut stomach to brush against you. Your neck starts to feel the strain of having to crane back to make eye contact with him.

“Do I need to speak in even simpler words?” Kratos’s deep voice snaps you out of your gawking. Never had a man made you feel like a mere mortal; let alone make you like the idea of being overpowered.

“I-“ You clear your throat, finally letting the air dense with an unspoken tension fill your lungs, “N-no.”

Unconsciously, you rub your hands on your trousers and take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Sit on the bed.”

Kratos follows your command without question. Carefully, you crawl behind him on the bed and prop yourself on your knees. The skin under your hands tenses when you bring them up to rest on his shoulders.

“Relax. I mean you no harm. I swear.”

Your voice is just above a whisper and laced with sincerity. You begin to knead the endless knots that harden Kratos’s shoulders. The endless burdens he carries on his back would crush any mortal. When Kratos lets out a satisfied groan you have to bite your lip to stifle out a noise of your own.

Now’s not the time to start frothing at the mouth.

Instead of letting yourself turn into a pathetic puddle of suppressed desire, you opt to continue your efforts to comfort.

“We will get to Asgard. Atreus was raised by a strong man. I know he is doing more than fine.”

“A strong man perhaps, but not a noble one.”

Your thumbs travel down to press into the rigid flesh of his shoulder blades while you scoff.

“What does it mean to be noble? You are strong, courageous, watchful, full of wisdom, and give astute instruction. Those are very noble traits.”

Kratos shakes his head, “You do not know the extent of my sins.”

You sigh at the persistence of his inadequacy. How could he not see that his obvious guilt was the biggest indicator of his good heart? Your hands move to his bulky chest to lightly rub the muscles.

“We are more than the sum of our parts, Kratos. Bad deeds cannot be undone, but what we do after is what matters most. We must be better, work harder, and do whatever it takes to keep the realms from falling into chaos.”

At your words, Kratos takes hold of your wrists, “Where did you hear that?”

“I heard that from centuries of living. From reaching the lowest I could possibly go and coming out of it stronger than I was before.”

You move so you’re next to his side and only hesitate for a fraction of a second before you bring a hand to his cheek. Kratos doesn’t resist as you turn his head with the gentle guidance of your palm. Instinctively your thumb gently rubs back and forth against his rough flesh. The gesture feels different than the last time. It’s more intimate, rawer.

“You’re a good man, father, and friend, but if you continue to let the past dictate your future you will never see that for yourself.” You bring your other hand up to rest on the middle of his chest, “Open your heart. I promise it will only serve to make you stronger, not weaker.”

The way Kratos is looking into your eyes leaves you breathless. It’s almost like he’s seeing you for the first time. Not your outward appearance, but the depths of your soul.

Unlike usual, the silence that fills the room is stifling. So much so that your skin begins to heat, a humid tension that rivals Vanaheim hanging in the air. Maybe you said too much. Maybe you’re silly for spewing your opinions to a man who didn’t ask for them. Maybe this is what it feels like to love someone that’s out of your grasp.

Dejected by your imprudence you leave him with one last thought, “The totality of emotions can either make or break a man. What will it do to you?”

When you try to climb off the bed, one of Kratos’s hands shoots out to grab your bicep.

“Where are you going, woman.”

His voice is deep and reminds you of the forcefulness of booming thunder. One that shakes you more than Thor could ever make. Swallowing thickly, you advert your eyes to the ground, “I don’t want to disturb you any further.”

“Stay.”

Without another word, you let Kratos slowly pull you down on the bed. Half of your body lays on him as he rests his chin on your head. He feels safe and solid, protecting and proud. If only he can see what you see. If only he can feel what you feel.

You let yourself indulge in being in Kratos’s arms just like before and close your eyes. In seconds your body relaxes. Exhaustion mixed with the tidal wave of emotions you’ve gone through makes the perfect sedative.

Kratos watches your breathing slow as you go lax on his chest. He can’t help but admire you in the secrecy of your sleep.

The light shining through the window casts a glowing effect on your long locks, making it seem as though a halo is over your head. Your hair reminds him of the sunsets in Sparta, golden and awe-inspiring. More than that you remind him of that comforting feeling that comes with being where one belongs.

Home.

When Kratos grunts at the absurdity of his thoughts, the noise causes your leg around his hip to tighten. He carefully traces your spine with the tips of his thick fingers. You’re so small and fragile in his hold, like a mouse cuddling in a bear’s den during a frigid winter despite the looming danger.

You’re unlike any goddess he’s met before; calm, kind of heart, strong, and free from the chains of greed that comes with a being with that kind of power. You told Kratos to open his heart and be better for the future. Only one other woman told him those exact words.

“The culmination of love is grief. And yet we love despite the inevitable; we open our hearts to it. To grieve deeply is to have loved fully. Open your heart to the world as you have opened it to me and you will find every reason to keep living in it.”

An epiphany hits Kratos so hard that it causes him to hold you tighter to his chest.

You’re something to live for.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

greek translation: agápi = love

#kratos x reader #god of war x reader #god of war ragnorak #god of war #kratos #delirious masterlist

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yaekiss · 11 months

Note

*crawls in here again* hi qi! for #mailroom open, I'm sending my letter to yan!zhongli. I'll take any gender neutral/masc nicknames, and I'm writing in meme 2. oh, and nsfw reply please lkjhdfg cheers to 400!

My dearest, Zhongli

I'm writing to you under the moonlight of Sumeru. There's... as much to say as the forest is vast. On my travel to the city, a kind forest ranger had given me directions to lodge with a pair of men while I stay. They remind me of you, actually, if you were split in two. They're both quite knowledgeable, being alumni from the Akademiya, but one has a more calm temper like yours, and the other has more refined taste.

I've had a lot of fun here for the time being, but I miss you so. I must be transparent... I may have partaken in some drinks in their company once, a delicate, local vintage. Please forgive me my darling, you must know I'm prisoner to your heart. I wasn't in a clear state of mind as I... kissed them. That's as far as it went, I promise.

I'm sorry to end this on a sour note. And I'm deeply sorry for my actions. My precious, I'll do anything to show you you're the only one for me. All you need is ask.

Awaiting to be in your arms again, your Andi.

(along with the letter is a bouquet of Sumeru roses wrapped in paper and pink ribbon and a pair of handcuffs)

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! Top! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Zhongli, no gendered terms for reader, reader can be read as having a cock or a strap, polycule/polyamory (Zhongli, Alhaitham, and Kaveh are all mentioned in this), small mention of aphrodisiac but not used, possessiveness and unhealthy relationships, worshipping (reader receiving), biting (Zhongli receiving), snowballing, handcuffs (not used on reader), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: I think you better check the contents of your box before bringing it back up to your room. I got some troubling reports from the staff in the mailroom... Tell me if anything is off, I'll be at the counter! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

A not-too-hefty box is passed to you in the hotel lobby when you return to rest for the night. Asked kindly by the staff to double-check its contents, you settle down on a nearby lounge chair before opening it up to inspect what’s inside.

You find a Liyuean tea set, fit for a group of four, the colour of the teaware a beautiful earthy brown, reminiscent of your dearest back in Liyue. In the hotel lighting, light bounces off the surface of the teacup you’re cradling in your hands and reveals an underlying pattern of sheer golden dragon scales. A breath. Oh. He crafted this himself.

Setting the cup back into its cushioned groove in the box, you pick up a sealed bag of tea leaves. Zhongli was the one to introduce you to mixing different types of teas to create a layered taste that you couldn’t find anywhere else. No one else knew your tastes quite like he did, always so frustratingly addictive. You read the attached tag, “An aphrodisiac blend of tea leaves, so I am not the only one left wanting.” That sly dragon, desiring you carnally even miles away.

Of course, no gift from Zhongli is complete without a letter. It’s a little strange that the envelope is not sealed properly, terribly unlike your lover to flub up. But he does seem to always forget to bring his wallet around, perhaps a mindless slip. You know how excited he gets when it comes to matters concerning you, so you chalk it up to enthusiastic forgetfulness.

After removing the letter from the box, you gently close the lid. His letter is written on paper with a stunning gold trim, one he reserves only for letters to you. The words are evenly spaced out, neat, pleasing to the eye (and maybe looking at his handwriting feels a little like coming home). His letter reads:

“In loving correspondence to my heavenly pearl,

First of all, it is simply wonderful to hear from you again, my pearl. It puts my mind at ease to know that you are still here, present, on Teyvat with me. I know not what I would do if I never heard back from you, I have lost too much, I cannot lose you too… Forgive me for being direct, it must be the aching longing to see you again.

Moving on, I suppose we must address the issue which you deem so pressing. I am sure you will be delighted to hear that I am no stranger to the concept of having multiple lovers, for you are simply just that magnetic, my pearl. This dragon has learnt to be more than generous over the countless millennia I have existed.

(The handwriting seems to get a little more compacted together starting from here, as if he’s growing increasingly frenzied the more he writes.) However, when it comes to you, I wish to be a little selfish. I’d love you to love me, most. I am willing to share but let the two see that only I can please you, that I was the first to capture your heart. Perhaps, if you allowed it, I could even restrain their hands as they watch on at the sight of you pounding into me, marking me up with bites that leave lasting marks. All while I can only hazily mutter out my reverent devotion towards you. How charming you must be, to have an archon grovelling at your feet. But my pearl, you deserve all of me and more.

Would you let me service you, pleasing you until you finish on my forked tongue, before I snake my way over to the two scholars, kissing the both of them? The only way they could ever taste you is through me alone. In my presence at least. Imagine how they would writhe and beg for you in their cuffs, their hard cocks straining against the fabric of their pants, yet they are unable to do anything about it, so pitifully close yet so far. You might call me sadistic, but the thought excites you, no?

(The handwriting returns to its usual normal spacing and formatting at the start of the letter.) …It seems that I have gotten too worked up, I shall leave my response at this. When you return, do bring your two loverboys in tow, yes? I look forward to meeting them.

Utterly yours,

- Zhongli -”

“Thought we’d find you here! What do you have there?” Kaveh’s voice rings out from before you. Looking up, Alhaitham and Kaveh greet you. Kaveh sports a blinding smile while Alhaitham’s face, although appearing neutral, radiates a sort of softness towards you.

“A reply from my lover in Liyue after I sent them a love letter recently.” Your eyes roving over Zhongli’s words in your hands again, you miss the way their eyebrows pinch slightly at how tenderly the words “love letter” rolled off your tongue.

“Is it the one with the brown tea set?” There’s a tinge of… something in Kaveh’s voice.

“Yes, he did send me a lovely-” Your mind stills. You’ve never mentioned anything about a tea set yet. The box is closed. The envelope was strangely open when you first took it out.

Your gaze snaps up to them, and they share a conspiratory glance before Alhaitham leans in, whispering lowly next to your ear.

“Kaveh and I were simply thinking we could get a… headstart on showing how much we want to worship you, our prince.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months

Note

hihi! :) (let’s hope the tumblr gods don’t eat this)

do you have any thoughts about modern sevika tastes? i.e how she dresses, the scents she likes to wear, the music she might like, what her phone case might be like. things like that! :)

- topdrop anon

i have a few, but i would LOVE to hear your guys thoughts in the comments too!!

men and minors dni

she dresses practically: pants with lots of pockets, shoes with steel toes, breathable and easy to wash fabrics. but i think she's got a little fashion sense in her, and she knows how good she looks, so she's always buying her clothes just one size too small so all her muscles are on full display, pulling and tugging at the tight fabric of her clothes.

lots of shades of gray and black. some earthy tones-- olive greens and tans and browns. a few pops of color here and there: her favorite red jacket, the purple beanie she wears in winter.

all her socks are black. but her boxers are the cutsy-est things you've ever seen. prints of little hearts, dogs, kitties, ducks, lolipops; writing over the ass like 'eat me' or 'kiss me'; she keeps most of her attire serious, but her undies are always goofy.

i think her left arm would either be a prosthetic or covered in tattoos. shoulder to fingertips.

she's totally the type of person to drive in silence. or listen to the news. she doesn't really listen to music, but she's got a few jazz vinyls she's always cycling through at home. i think it's mostly instrumental, but she does have a soft spot for some soulful singing (which means she cries when nina simone comes on every. single. time. and can you blame her?)

as much as i want to make her a punk-rocker, i just think she'd find it noisy and annoying hahaha.

her phone case is either clear, or it's super bulky and has a little latch on it so she can latch it to her belt lmaoooo.

she keeps the background photo as the default picture it comes with, until she meets you. (she changes it to a pic of the two of you kissing the SECOND you agree to be her girlfriend. she grins after you say yes, pulls her phone out, and quickly changes her background, whispering, "fuck yes, i've been waiting to get rid of this boring ass wallpaper.")

i don't know how to describe scents, but i picture her smelling fresh, like kinda minty, but in a irish spring way. sandalwood too. but on top of all her soaps and lotions, she wears a really warm scented cologne, like tobacco and brown sugar and whiskey and coconut. like amber-y smelling?

she tries to deny the fact that she's got a sweet tooth. she's always munching on chips or nuts or other salty snacks. but that's just because if she starts on a sugary treat, she won't be able to stop herself until it's all gone.

you find this out after you gift her a pan of brownies for her birthday in the morning, and find that they're gone by lunchtime.

now, you always keep little chocolates and hard candies on you to pass to her when she looks stressed. she always gives you the biggest, happiest eyes you've ever seen, like you've just handed her a check for a million dollars instead of a peanutbutter cup.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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thisismeracing · 1 year

Text

Sunshine | MS47

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x earthy!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, it’s not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI! ― Summary: In which Mick starts dating an earthy/spiritual girl who just loves nature and good energy. ― A/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛 ― A/n2: Since everyone seemed to like the Charles version and I had way too many pics from his piece I did not use, I’m making Lewis’ and Mick’s versions as well.

⁕ my masterlist | my taglist here

⁕ Support my writing by reblogging, and leaving me a message 🤍

sunshineyn

liked by gina_schumacher, pierregasly, and others

sunshineyn Salty water heals everything 🌊💙

view all 4,218 comments

mickschumacher being by your side heals everything 🤍

⤷ leclercpitch They’re so in love its disgusting ❤️ (affectionate)

roscoemilton I don’t know how to explain but seeing their posts heals my soul

greenvroomvroom I love how she always includes Angie

mickshoemaker THE LAST PIC??? HMM- I-

mickschumacher

liked hy sebastianvettel, sunshineyn, and others

mickschumacher 💛🪴 my sunshine

view all 9,329 comments

schumini 😭 my 😭 sunshine 😭

sainzsaint I wanna go in an adventure with them!!

mercedays They fit so well together

tifosigetawaycar I know it probably was not intentional, but the fact that her beach clothes are matching his surf board makes me giggle and kick my feet

sunshineyn

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, and others

sunshineyn so much is happening 💚🍏

view all 10,326 comments

mickschumacher we love you! 😘

⤷ sainzandnoris CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP

gonegirlsza Her style and music taste are impeccable!

⤷ mickcedes so is her taste in men 😜

fastmick I love how soft he is for her and he does not bother to hide it 🥹

ynandmick OMG YN WATCH OUT ON THAT TREE PLEASE! 😰

hamiltoncedes As always Yn keeps feeding us great content

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @non-stop-imagines

Don’t forget to leave a comment/ask and reblog ❤️ feedback is golden 🥰

#mick schumacher #earthy!reader #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher social media au #f1 imagine #social media au f1 #f1 x black!reader #mick schumacher x black!reader #ms47 #op: smau

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purple-plum-petals · 2 months

Text

⊱ Star Rail Men and What They Smell Like ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

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Character(s): Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Caelus, Dan Heng, Veritas Ratio, Gallagher, Gepard Landau, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Sampo Koski, Sunday, Welt Yang (Honkai Star Rail) Warning(s): Nothing! Genre: Headcanons Word Count: ~560 words Author’s Note: I’ve been really into Honkai Star Rail lately and, since I will be writing for the fandom from here on out, I thought my first post for it would just be some simple headcanons on what some of the characters smell like! I tried to keep what I think the characters would smell like as canon-compliant as possible; I also wanted to do this since it may be helpful for me to reference in the future when I write for them haha. It’s nothing too complex as I haven’t had the time for that as of late, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! Also, this was written pre-release of Aventurine, Boothill, and Sunday, but I don’t think their releases will change these headcanons.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Argenti: He smells like a freshly plucked bouquet of roses and honey with an underlying scent of iron because of his armor. Everywhere he goes, he leaves behind a floral scent with a tinge of sweetness.

Aventurine: Aventurine smells like a very expensive and very strong cologne – a cologne that is almost a bit too overpowering with how much of it he puts on.

Blade: Sorry Blade lovers, but this man probably smells like a mixture of sweat and blood. However, I’ll be nice and say he has the soft and somewhat sweet scent of spider lilies on his clothing and in his hair.

Boothill: Metal, oil, and gunpowder – I imagine him smelling very much like a mechanic’s workshop. He smells like how a lot of men’s bodywashes are advertised to be.

Caelus: Trash… Honestly, though, I can’t really see (or rather smell) Caelus having any kind of specific scent to him. He probably just smells like a natural musk or perhaps even a mixture of the rest of the Astral Express Crew’s scents, all of them intermingling in a very faint and very all-over-the-place cocktail of smells.

Dan Heng: Dan Heng smells kind of like the pages of an old book and a crisp, refreshing ocean breeze. He smells very relaxing and somewhat nostalgic, and his scent is very calming to be surrounded by.

Veritas Ratio: Ratio smells like unscented soap, so he has a very clean and fresh scent to him at all times considering how much he bathes. I also like to think he smells a bit like chalk with how much of it he carries around.

Gallagher: Smells like a mixture of alcohol and natural musk with a tinge of smokiness. He works at a bar and, considering he carries around a lighter, I imagine him to be a smoker as well.

Gepard: Gepard wears a very light and very basic cologne, so nothing too overpowering or statement-making; it does smell a bit generic, though. I also think he would have a slight scent of iron to him as well due to his armor.

Jing Yuan: Smells like a fresh cup of fruity green tea with a weak node of mint. Jing Yuan is a fairly lazy man who doesn’t put in much effort where it isn’t needed, but I think he would enjoy aromatherapy so he likes wearing perfumes and colognes that he thoroughly enjoys.

Luocha: I think Luocha would smell somewhat earthy with nodes of floral and wood-like scents. I also think he would carry around the smell of death, but not necessarily a bad one; he smells more akin to a funeral home.

Sampo: Much like Caelus, I don’t think Sampo would smell like much of anything. He sneaks around quite a bit and probably wouldn’t want his scent alerting anyone, so he has a natural smell to him with a light underlying node of pine.

Sunday: Has a very faint scent of lavender to him that could be easily missed if not around him for long. I imagine he isn’t fond of strong scents, so he usually picks something that makes him smell pleasing without being too overwhelming for himself or others.

Welt: I imagine Welt smelling like a strong, freshly brewed cup of coffee with nodes of citrus or vanilla. The underlying scent is never enough to overpower the smell of coffee he has on him, though.

#🌸 . Plum Writes #honkai star rail #hsr #star rail headcanons #hsr headcanons #argenti #aventurine #blade #boothill #caelus #dan heng #veritas ratio #gallagher #gepard landau #jing yuan #luocha #sampo koski #sunday #welt yang

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growup-thatbeautiful · 11 months

Text

The Alcott

Tags: Jake Seresin x reader, getting back together, short fic, break up and make up, barely a plot tbh

Summary: On a rainy night in Austin, Jake reminds you why you fell in love with him all those years ago.

Warnings: cursing, mild kissing, a lot of prose, breakups, getting back together, jake being a little bit of an ass

A/n: eh, not super happy with it but i wanted it out of my drafts. happy reading to you and 999 followers to me!

——————————————————————————

give me some tips to forget you

“Come with me,” he asks. “Come to school with me.” You both know your answer before he even asks the question. He has his path- the Navy, and you have yours- a job waiting for you in New York. He’s proud of you for getting it, of course he is, but you can’t feel that pride now while he’s asking you to leave that behind for him. Maybe you could do it if you loved him a little bit less.

“Jakey,” you sigh, “Please, let’s not do it like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it,” Jake answers, his tone cool. It’s not the voice you like hearing, especially not aimed at you. You know that Jake can be a cruel, harsh person. He’s shown time and time again from girlfriend to girlfriend. “You’re leaving.” His voice shakes and your heart brakes.

“So are you,” you defend softly. “Come on, we don’t have to do it like this.”

“Maybe,” he says. And he walks away, his blond hair glinting in the moonlight. The confidence in his stride is marred only by a shakiness in his unshakable hands.

You don’t see him again for years.

~*~

i’ll ruin it for you

At some point, you forgive him. It comes naturally, and you don’t think you’ll ever be strong enough to hold it against him.

You went different ways. It happens, you know that now, but the way it happened left scars.

Partners go by, men and women who just aren’t Jake. You love them and they leave you or you leave them- it doesn’t matter, really. They never know you like he did.

You accept that he was your person, your one, and you lost that when you let him walk away.

Some people just don’t get a fairytale ending- or any part of a fairytale. You’re lucky enough to have had a brief view of it.

It’s not like you don’t think about him. Visions of little green-eyed kids running through a manicured lawn with Jake laying out in the sun creep into your mind at weaker moments.

And it hurts to think that it could be with somebody else. That he could be with someone else.

But you forgive him. And you try to move on.

~*~

i think i’m falling back in love with you

Rain falls down around you, blocking the stars from peeking through the clouds. The smell- earthy and sweet- fills the night air, despite the city’s atmosphere. The door to the bar protests its movement when you push it open with a long, drawn out squeal. The neon sign above the door flickers from years of use, the green neon “Alcott” sign long since past it’s prime.

The inside looks the same as it did when you were last here. The dark wood paneling that lines the walls is cracked and a little more faded than it used to be, and the lights are dimmer than you remembered, but the smell of cracked leather is the same. It reminds you of blue eyes and blond hair and a signature grin accented with a toothpick between his teeth.

After all the time away, it still feels like he should be here beside you, a hand planted on your lower back, warmth radiating from his body.

You gravitate towards a booth in the back where you used to spend countless nights, a cold glass sweating rings into the sticky wooden tabletop. The cracked leather of the booth is uncomfortable and vaguely tattered, but it feels like old memories.

From your bag, you pull out a faded yellow notebook and start writing anything that comes to mind. Memories fade with ideas, and your thoughts flow onto the page seamlessly.

This place will always, always remind you of him. It’s the most memorable of your old haunts, a place where you spent countless nights pretending to care less about each other than you really did. It was the place where you lost him and the place where you find him and the place where you fell in love with him.

You’re focused on your work when a figure approaches you and a familiar voice greets you. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” That voice, the one you’ve been thinking of, tears you from your writing.

There, standing broad and strong in front of you, is Jake. For a moment you simply stare, thinking it’s a trick of the light. But the gleam in his eyes and the shine of his hair can’t be your imagination.

“Jake?” you ask dumbly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m giving a speech at the graduation,” he says. “You still live here?” he asks, no judgement in his tone. “You were supposed to do big things in a bigger city.”

“Not everyone can be a naval officer,” you respond with a grin. “And you should know that college dreams don’t work out for everyone. They didn’t for us.” You can’t help but remind him of all the things that happened between you. All those days laying on grainy, Texas clay beaches during weekend trips, sun woven through his hair and his eyes that matches the blue-green water. The late nights cram sessions and coffee runs the morning afterwards, completely enamored by his hand in yours. Laying out on the grassy lawns of campus with a blanket underneath you, iced coffees shared between you, his ball cap backwards and his fingers skimming across the skin of your stomach. “And I don’t live here, I’m just visiting. My cousin is graduating.”

“Murphey?” he asks, light in his eyes. Him and Murph always got along, although they were a strange pairing. Murphey used to visit you some weekends when her parents were busy, and if she stayed with you, it was inevitable for her not to know Jake. “Is she that old now?”

“She’s 22 now. Graduating with an undergrad in nursing. Says she wants to help people,” you explain, pride evident in your voice.

“Fuck,” he says. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Time flies,” you offer. “It’s fucked up, but it happens. Doesn’t feel like it, though.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“How’s your mom?” Marie Seresin, when you knew her, was a force just like her son.

The smile that fills Jake’s face is soft and wide, a special one saved for his family. “She’s good. Stubborn as usual, but it’s okay what you’d expect.”

“That’s good. Grace still giving you trouble?” Jake’s sister is just as stubborn as his mother, and she has been a strong advocate for you when you and Jake split up.

“She’s been on my ass to settle down, but that’s what older sisters are for.”

“So I’ve heard. No lucky girl ever got you to buy a ring?” you ask, offering him the seat across from you. He slides into the booth and leans forward on his forearms, the sticky tabletop underneath him.

Jake’s grin doesn’t falter as he takes the question in his stride. “Nope. Many have tried, but to no avail. Deployment doesn’t make it easy.”

“Right,” you say.

“And you?” he asks, and you make yourself busy shoving your things into your bag. “Anyone settle you down?”

“No, I’m too romantic for that.” It’s meant to be a joke, but it falls flat between the two of you. Truthfully, you’re too much in your own head to start something new at this point. “I finally wrote that book, though.”

“Really?” he asks, and that old pride is in his eyes. “I thought you said you were never going to finish it.”

“Yeah, well a few years ago I got some inspiration.” It remains unspoken that the inspiration was him. “I sent you a copy.”

“I didn’t get it,” he says. “But I’ll look for it now.” From the old speakers, an old familiar song starts playing. It’s a country song, one you somehow never learned the name of, one that makes a smile grow on Jake’s face.

“Care to join me, darlin’?” Jake drawls, a smirk on his face as he offers his hand to you, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to dance.”

“How could I? You never let me sit down when we used to come here,” you respond, a grin finding its way to your face.

You fit with him like you never left. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders. He’s stronger now, broader too. But he smells the same, like lemongrass and linen.

The music is full of static and not quite loud enough, but you dance on nevertheless. Jake spins you away and pull you in effortlessly, sure of his moves while you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s been a long time since you’ve danced with someone like this.

“I haven’t been the same person since I met you,” Jake says breathlessly. It can’t be because of the dancing. “You’ve changed me, and you know how stubborn I am. That’s no small accomplishment, sweetheart.”

You interrupt and tell him that he doesn’t have to do this, doesn’t have to make you feel better. You’ve forgiven him, and there’s no need to bring up old wounds. Not when they’ve scarred so deep. “Jakey-“

“No,” he cuts you off firmly. “Let me do this. You deserve to hear it.” He waits for your slow nod before he continues, his hands at fists by his side. If he reached out to touch you right now, you couldn’t say no. “We should have fought harder for each other. I should have fought harder. You were- are- the best thing that’s happened to me, and I let you slip away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask. It feels like a cruel trick, him saying these things to you. They can’t be true, can’t make a difference.

“I read your book. I know I said that I didn’t, but I did. There was this line you wrote that said falling in love was the last thing they wanted, but they did it anyway. I don’t think we’ve ever had a say in our paths with each other, but there’s nothing that I’d rather do than fall in love with you again.” It comes out in a rush of words, messy and poetic at the same time. Somehow, it’s everything you want to hear and nothing you thought you’d ever have.

Your answer is uncoordinated and decidedly not romantic. “Are you joking?”

The hurt that passes his face is brief before he recovers. “Darlin’, I’m as serious as I can be. If you’ll have me, I’m here.”

For all your written words, you don’t have an answer for him.

So you do what you’ve wanted to do ever since he walked away that day. You pull him in close to you and kiss him. Electricity flies down your spine and you grab onto his shirt, trying desperately to keep him as near you as possible. Like he’ll fly away in a cloud of exhaust and unspoken words.

But he’s a man of his words, so he kisses you back, his hands cupping your face and roaming your body. He used to know every curve, but you’ll have to reacquaint him now. 10 years is a long time. Though it’s not long enough for you to have forgotten what this is like- being with him. It’s a glass of Whiskey, smooth and burning with just the right amount of heat. It’s fire and smoke and green grass and everything that’s right and good mixed with all things that burn.

“Baby,” he mutters against your lips. “I’ve fucking missed you.” Everything in you screams that you share the same thought.

“I’m here,” you assure him. “I’m here.”

“Good, he says. “Because I’m not letting you go again. We’ve wasted too much goddamn time without each other.”

Part of you knows that this isn’t how things work. People don’t magically come back, and people don’t get swept off their feet in bars on a rainy day. But Jake’s always been a thunderstorm at the least possible time.

You can’t question it when it feels so perfect. Maybe you’ll wake up and realize that this is the aftermath of drinking too much alone or it’s a dream that you’ll turn into a story and sell it to all the other lonely people. You doubt that you’re imaginative enough to create the callouses on his hands or the rough scratch of his jeans. You’re definitely not romantic enough to write the way his lips feel against yours or the desperate edge to his kiss.

But for now you won’t try to wake up. You’re going to keep Jake for as long as you can, and if it hurts you again at some point then you’ll have to heal just like you did the first time.

All the pain in the world is worth it. Worth him. That you know for certain.

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muwapsturniolo · 1 month

Text

✯𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬✯

IN WHICH… I give yall sum baseline personas that will be reoccurring in my fics down the line. These personas are interchangeable meaning they can be used for any triplet of my/your choosing. Feel free to request any of these with any of the boys!! (These are the ones I decided on for now but if anyone has any they want to add feel free to send it in and I will update this post🍑🍑🍑)

WARNINGS: This should not have to be said but imma say it anyway. all the y/n's i write for are black and black only. I'm not saying if you arent black you can't read my fics or support but i do understand if it does become hard to read with the way i describe y/n.

feel free to still imagine yourself as y/n even if you arent black, i have no problem with that whatsoever, just wanted to make it clear i write for black girls and boys🍑

✯ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOF READ BECAUSE THIS IS NOT A FIC!✯

Earthy boho Y/n

"Half of us chasin' fountains of youth and it's in the present now"

have you ever wanted to swim next to a waterfall naked, or frolic in fields as the sun beams down? have you ever danced in your livingroom with a blunt in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other?

this is y/n.

she's a earthy girl, finding joy in the simple things in life, finding joy in the heart and soul. you can always find her wearing some shade of green, brown, or orange. you often might find a crystal in her pocket or even in her hair. her whole body is usually decked out in jewelry. beaded bracelets on her writs, obnoxious rings on her fingers, multiple piercings on her nose and in her ears, beads on her waists, anklets, and even toe rings!

the curly brown tresses that sit on top of her head are usually in its natural form, or being protected by locs or some form of knotless braids. when she gets lazy she throws it into a puff and wraps one of her many silk scarfs around it.

she likes to do yoga and meditate in the early mornings before the world wakes up, followed by a quick smoke session and painting.

although you can often find her alone, blasting neo soul or her guilty pleasure genre (pop), she hates it. she hates being alone because being alone means you are left with your thoughts and she hates her thoughts. they can be so mean sometimes and she doesn't understand why.

shes soft spoken, never raising her voice or cussing anyone out. she doesn't see the need to act like that when everything can be talked out.

She has a brown cat named Janelle meow-net (named after Janelle Monet).

songs:

"my love, do you ever dream of, candy-coated raindrops" ☆ candy rain

"Brown liquor, brown sugar, brown face Black skin, black Benz, black plays" ☆ almeda

"Read my mind, free my mind, feed my mind, make sense" ☆ purity

Princess Y/n

"Raw bitch, ain't never been a groupie"

her daddy is baldheaded....meaning she has never heard the word no in her life. the few times she has been told no by her dad or her boyfriend at the time... lets just say it got uglier than amy scheumer. shes spoiled and she doesn't see anything wrong with it. why would she? she is a princess after all.

she has the face and smile men would go to war and die over. she has the fashion style that has you wanting to raid her closet and drain your bank accounts. there's never a day where she doesn't look good.

her hair, nails, and toes are ALWAYS done. and i mean always.

she hates getting dirty. meaning, dont ask her to do any hard labor. she refuses to get dirt on her hands or even break a nail. she (her dad) paid good money to get her hair done and she will fight to keep that lace melted and laid.

it's usually her dad who is supplying her shopping addiction and making sure she's pampered and well off. if it's not her dad, its whoever shes talking to at the moment. speaking of whoever shes talking to... she doesn't see her self as a player by any means, but she does talk to multiple guys at once. if they can do it, why can't she? shes just a girl having fun and she does not care what anyone has to say about it.

she may seem like a mean girl (she wears pink everyday, not just Wednesday) with her resting bitchface and a mouth that always talks shit, but she truly is a big baby. she loves love, is a girls girl, and hypes everyone up. shes always giving to people, whether its clothes, bags, makeup, or even money. she has a big heart and wants everyone to be happy.

songs:

"I taste like sugar but ain't a damn thing sweet bitch" ☆ beatin down yo block

"im pretty than a motherfucker hoes be looking ok." ☆ ok

"Penthouse suite, sitting pretty by the pool" ☆ pretty girls

MUA Y/n

"No makeup on, and I could still take your place, lil' bitch"

yall ever see someone with nice skin and know they never had a pimple a day in their life? or have you ever met someone whos makeup is always beat to the gods and not a lash is out of place?

yeah that lucky person in y/n.

she has her makeup and skincare routines down packed. so down packed shes able to do it with her eyes closed.

she's so into her craft, she could tell you what you need for your skin or what makeup would suit you best by one look. shes a girls girl, never judging anyone and always willing to help.

you want a new foundation? say less shes giving you at least five options and giving you multiple reasons as to why she picked that one. want to learn how to do winged liner? grab your liquid liner and get ready to learn because she is going to teach you until you get it right.

she loves the beauty world and everything that has to come with it, always picking up the newest products and testing them out. shes not a beauty influencer, but she does post on tiktok for fun, not caring about followers or pr.

she works at ulta (that discount helps her out A LOT), but still finds herself in the gloomy lighting of sephora. her makeup room (yes...she has one) is filled to the brim with different types of makeup and skincare products. she has drawers on drawers of eyeshadow pallets, concealers, setting powders, blush, etc in that room. she often lets her friends come over and raid the room because in reality, she knows shes never going to use everything.

songs:

"bad bitch im the bar, alien superstar" ☆ alien superstar

"I ain't one of them hoes who look better in they pictures (facts) Face like a model (what?), body like a stripper" ☆ conceited

"Bitch I'm fine Slim waist, pretty face, he know I'm a dime" ☆ beatin down yo block

PLEASE REQUEST ANYTHING FOR THESE VERSIONS OF Y/N AND EVEN SEND IN MORE BASELINE TYPE CHARCTERS THAT I CAN ADD TO THIS LIST!!!!

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n @freshsturns @adoreindie

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worfs-glorious-hair · 7 months

Text

Greetings beloved people!

Io and behold, my first time writing smut!

Thirteenth Doctor x (Genderneutral) Reader: Sex Pollen on a beautiful moon - shameless smut edition!

Reader is AFAB and body parts are referred to by name but I did not use any pronouns to refer to the reader themselves!

No beta, we die like men! I wrote this instead of sleeping! Enjoy!

********* Smut is way under the cut!*************

Bouquet (13 x Reader)

“This is the best day to go exploring with Y/N!”, the Doctor exclaimed excitedly while grabbing your hand to pull you with her towards a glittering field of flowers with an equally vibrant forest shimmering on the horizon.

You laughed, thrilled to be chosen by her to spend a day with her. To be close to her and to see her contagious, a billion galaxies erupting in light, smile.

Travelling with the Doctor was like a fever dream, in the best and worst meaning. At times so dangerous and scary that you were afraid to take just one more step. Usually the Doctor would then turn around to you and would encourage you to go on.

“Come on, Y/N,”, she would say with her beautiful eyes full of stars and her scrunched nose and deliciously curved lips, “I need your help here, I can’t do it without you!”

And at other times it was so unbelievable and beautiful that you feared you would wake up and find it all not to be real.

Today you had landed on a small moon of a busy planet.

Yaz, Graham and Ryan had decided to go shopping and sightseeing on the planet below and you and the Doctor had dropped them off and then she had told you about the rich nature and brilliant, crystal clear flowers and and jewel-like singing tress on the moon that she knew you would love to see.

And now you were here, running with your Doctor through the field, feeling the buzzing life around you in the air, trying to keep up with her, even though she was still holding your hand.

“Isn’t it brilliant?”, she screamed and you nodded, a little out of breath.

You reached a little island of colorful bushes and some small trees on the field and you motioned towards them.

Something urged you to take a closer look.

“Can we take a break there? I need to see these colours up close!”, you asked-yelled and the Doctor just grinned and changed the direction towards the closest tree.

It looked just like an earth-birch, but instead of being white and black was this one light-blue with specks of gold and purple.

You inspected the tree closer and found some tiny red glowing mushrooms growing on it.

“Adorable”, you mused to yourself as you smelled the sweetest, fullest fragrance you have ever smelled.

You looked to find the source and it turned out to be coming from the purple, nearly black flowers that were blooming on a nearby bush. Leaning closer you breathed in deeply.

The scent was flowery, surprisingly heavy for such fine, delicate flowers and with a spicy depth that reminded you maybe of musk, or maybe of naturally scented woods like cedar or sandalwood. Something earthy, rich and dark. Something warm that heightened your senses, with a hot burning flame beneath.

“Doctor…”, you turned to look for her, when you heard your name being called at the same time.

“You have to smell these flowers!”, you continued to say unison and you both laughed when you realised it.

“You found the flowers as well?”, you asked and stepped aside to let the Doctor smell your flowers.

She breathed in deeply and smiled contentedly.

“It reminds me of you”, she said and you froze in your movements.

You had just turned to smell the flowers the Doctor had found, which were the same ones as you had seen and you stopped dead in your tracks.

“Oh I wanted to say the same thing”, you said cheerfully, only rarely registering that you had said that out loud what you would usually had only thought.

Mentally you shrugged and couldn’t care less.

The Doctor’s eyes lit up and the stars in them shone brighter than ever before.

She smiled her happy, toothy smile and you beamed back at her.

Smelling the flowers again, inhaling deeply, you decided to pick one.

“Here”, you offered the flower to the Doctor.

“It’s for you, you should wear it in your hair. I love it when you wear pretty things, it makes you even more beautiful…”

And another thing you would usually never had said out loud. How odd.

The Doctor’s eyes grew even bigger with joy as she took the flower from you and carefully pushed the stem behind her ear and arranged her hair around the flower.

“You should have one, too”, she said and picked one for you.

You placed your flower just like she had done and when she rose her hand to help you secure it, she stepped closer to you than it would have been necessary.

You gulped and felt oddly brave, so you grabbed her hand, when it was close to your face and kept it in place.

Something was burning inside of you, flooding your nerves and senses, rushing through your veins in your blood, making you feel the air tingling on your skin. You were suddenly very aware of your body in your clothes, feeling very hot and very bothered.

You felt your nipples stroke against the fabric of your bra and you felt your panties over your tingling and pulsating vulva. Of course they weren’t providing any friction.

But you wanted friction. Badly.

You felt how the Doctor’s usually cool hand close to your face, that you were holding got hotter as well. Maybe her skin burned as much as yours. Maybe her core felt just as yours did. All tingly and wet.

This thought sent even more heat through your body, tangling into a ball of arousal deep in your lower abdomen.

Your eyes were locked into each other, standing there, you felt your heart beat as you were unable to blink.

The Doctor made a step towards you and it made your eyes flicker to her lips, parted and wet, she must have been licking them.

The thought of her tongue flicking made the ball inside of you coil even closer together.

You were relatively the same height as her, so it did not take much to kiss her.

And so you did.

Using your free arm to pull her the remaining centimetres towards you, keeping your grab on your hand, you kissed her.

She responded immediately, opening her mouth for you, strangled sounds coming from her as you kissed her with everything that you’ve got.

It was an open mouth, very wet kiss, an all-consuming, senses overflowing kiss, it was her and her lips and body and nothing else.

She used her other hand to really get a hold of your face, pulling it closer to her, while pushing her knee and thigh between your legs.

You yelped into her mouth, as she pushed a sturdy seam on the inside of your jeans between your labia, exactly where you wanted some friction to be.

You started grinding on her knee and thigh, rather subconsciously, while you tried to remove her coat, kind of blindly, eyes half-way closed and mind filled with her kiss.

She had broken away from you, as the need for air took over and had opted to kiss, suckle and nibble at your jaw and neck instead.

She was working on opening the buttons of your blouse, while you tried to push down her suspenders after having successfully took off her coat from her, when she jumped back, as if she was hit with an electric shock.

“No!”, she gasped for air, making a big step back from you.

“Ohhh, Y/N, I am so, so sorry!”, she panted, a pained expression all over her face.

Your mind barely registered her words, you felt the emptiness, you felt rejected and betrayed and still so, so hot!

You were burning from the inside out!

You still felt your nipples, your tingling core and now warm and very wet underwear. You only wanted her lips back on your skin, so you made a few, shaky steps towards her.

“Ohhh”, she groaned, hands running over her face and through her tousled hair, which was your work, a proud part inside of you pointed out.

“Stupid, stupid Doctor!”, she muttered to herself, while hitting herself on the forehead.

“I should have recognised them… I should have… Think! Think! Think! Concentrate! Concentrate! You have to bring your Y/N out of here! No kissing, kissing is bad!”

You had only listened to her with half an ear, your body and soul hurting from her rejection. Why else should she have pushed you away, if she did not want it as bad as you did?

Maybe you were the only one with burning skin and a desperate pussy.

You rarely considered the whole oddity of the whole situation, how you had acted on your desires so suddenly, how your desires had manifested themselves so quickly on a physical level, when you usually sucked them up and stored them away somewhere deep inside your heart, never even considering to act on them in real life.

So you missed the pained expression on the Doctor’s face, how her chest heaved and how she fought for control over the danger she had put you two into unknowingly. And how she fought down her desire.

You only felt rejected and your soul cried in bitter pain. But your body had it way worse. Had it been a sweet pleasurable desire before, an exciting ache while you had kissed the Doctor was it now an actual pain.

Your body felt as if it was on fire, your skin felt open and irritated and the pressure in between your legs was more than you could bare.

“Y/N. Y/N! Look at me!”, you suddenly saw how the Doctor’s face came into your field of view, kind of blurry, so you tried to blink to get her image clear.

“We were drugged. You need to concentrate. Y/N!”

The word ‘drugged’ had enough effect on you that you managed to finally see her clearly, you tried to focus on her words and the information she wanted to give you.

No, not her lips! Not her soft flushed skin! Not the lips. Not her sparkling eyes! Her words! Her words! Important words!

“Listen to me! Those pretty flowers contain pollen that are toxic to most humanoids…”

“Toxic?”, you managed to blur out. “Are we going to die?”

The Doctor looked at you with her continuous worried, pained expression.

“How — how — how are they toxic? I don’t feel poisoned. But my body hurts!”, you started crying.

“Please make it stop! It hurts so much!”

Hot tears streamed down your face and you desperately tried to rub yourself over your panties inside of your jeans but it did not do much.

“Pl-please!”

You fell to the ground, legs spread wide and you still tried to find release by fervently rubbing over and through your now soaking wet clit and slit.

But it was too wet, your fingers couldn’t do anything, they were unsuccessfully slipping over your skin and you groaned and cried in frustration and pain.

“This is what the pollen do”, the Doctor tried to explain the situation as easy as possible. Also as quick as possible.

“They arouse most humanoids sexually and if they don’t get to climax within three hours the nervous system and the brain could get severe damage. I am so sorry!”

The Doctor had crouched next to you and was biting her lips and pressing together her own legs. If you would have been able to read her body more closely, you would have seen the sweat on her forehead and neck and chest, her panting and her dilated pupils. She was in as much pain as you and her hearts burned with the same desire for you as your heart did for her.

“I will get us out of here and find a solution, I won’t let anything happen to you! I promise!”

She helped you to sit up and to close your jeans again and you saw everything clear as day.

“You don’t want me!”, the thought sobered you up enough to look at her properly and to think like a human being again.

“You don’t want me!”, you repeated, now with an aching heart that nearly lessened the ache in your core.

“Can I do it myself?”, you asked and stood up on shaky legs, pushing yourself up from the ground in a very ungracious way.

The Doctor stood there and watched you with furrowed brows and lips a thin line.

“Do what yourself?”

“Climaxing…”, you answered and stomped towards the TARDIS, not being waiting for her answer.

Legs feeling wobbly and every step was a sensory hell.

Your still felt your hardened nipples against the fabric of your bra, the tightness and the coiling of your insides, your throbbing clit and the seam of your jeans against your slit with every second step.

But now you were also angry.

Angry at the Doctor, angry at yourself that you had let it come so far and angry that you were still so incredible aroused that you just wanted to hump the nearest tree to find release.

“Please Y/N…”, a soft hand on your arm stopped you right in your tracks and you found yourself face to face with the Doctor. Still your Doctor with the beautiful eyes and deliciously curved lips and the soft blond hair, that now looked very dishevelled, still the woman you wanted to kiss, taking all of her in, tasting her everywhere, the woman you wanted to hear scream out in pleasure as a result to your fingers, your tongue on her, inside of her …

“Wait please, don’t go like this!“, the Doctor pleaded with big, desperate eyes, pupils huge.

She sighed heavily and bowed her head in defeat.

“It is not that I don’t want you, on the contrary. I want you so much and I know I shouldn’t. I promise I’ll find a cure for you. Just kiss me again, please! I promise I’ll— “

The sound you let out was a high-pitched moan of relief and eagerness as you pressed your lips to hers again.

And immediately the pain subsided, leaving the pleasurable ache once again behind.

The Doctor’s kiss was eager, eager to please you, taste you, feel you.

Her fingers finished unbuttoning your blouse and impatiently helped you out of the sleeves.

Your burning skin was immediately met with a cool breeze that made you shiver in the most stimulating way.

The Doctor kissed your neck, right at the juncture to your shoulder at the soft hollow above your collarbone and you sighed and sighed and sighed out loud.

The Doctor’s lips and tongue, wet and warm, were working on your shoulder while her skilled and quick fingers opened your bra. She only stopped kissing your shoulder for a second to pull the straps of the bra down your arms and the moment your sensitive nipples were hit with the gently blowing breeze around you, you threw back your head and screamed out in pleasure.

This was what you had wanted all the time, since this madness began.

So the Doctor went immediately towards your left nipple, she licked across it, once, twice, thrice and then very gently grazed it with her teeth.

She held you stable with one arm and used her other hand to pinch and stroke your right nipple.

You arched yourself towards her and tried once again to remove her suspenders, this time you succeeded as far as it was possible to the point, where she held you tight.

She unlatched from your breast and you let out an involuntary sound of disappointment.

“Shhh”, the Doctor quickly kissed you

“One second, my love!”, she murmured close to your lips and and finished taking off her suspenders, while you tried to kiss her again.

“I just want to lay out my coat for you. I don’t want you to come while standing up, I want you to feel as comfortable and good as possible. I’ll be quick!”, she purred and quickly took her coat from the ground, gave it a shake and laid it flat out.

While she had worked with the coat you had opened your jeans and were just about to pull them down as her hand stopped you.

“Let me help you with that!”

And the Doctor pulled down your jeans, helped you to step out of them and then kissed the hemline of your panties.

“We do not need them anymore, do we?” Her voice was like melted butter and you squirmed.

Everything inside of you was throbbing in painful anticipation, your nipples hard, begging to be touched again and you just wanted to ride the Doctor’s face until you came.

Laying down was overrated!

“Ple-please, ge’em off…”, your voice was slurred but the Doctor understood anyways.

She kneeled down in front of you and pulled your underwear down.

She sighed excitedly at the sight of your now fully exposed body.

“I have dreamed of this moment!, she admitted, while looking up to you through her lashes.

“Likewise!”, you answered with a slurry voice and she grinned happily.

And it was a sight for the gods — the Doctor on her knees for you, her hands tightly on your thighs, admiring every inch of your body with endless hunger in her eyes.

She looked at every jiggly curve and soft, dimpled patch of skin, every warm and oh so human part of you and looked as if she was offered every answer to every question in this universe.

“Lay down!”, the Doctor commanded as you tried to throw one of your legs over her shoulder, to get her face where you wanted it the most!

You eagerly complied, laying down on your back on her coat.

The ground beneath it was surprisingly lush, soft and plush, nothing like hard, uncomfortable grounds you knew from home on Earth. You had slept on beds that were not even half as perfect and snuggly as this random meadow on a random moon.

‘Sex moon’ your cloudy mind corrected.

It was like the moon wanted people to be comfortable after they inhaled the flower’s pollen.

You opened your legs for the Doctor and she crawled between them, but not before taking everything of your exposed sex in.

The still gently blowing breeze danced over your slick, wet bare core and provided you with a delicious tickle of sensual cold, that made your whole body tingle in lust.

You bucked your hips aimlessly into the wind, as if it could provide you with some friction.

While the wind was cool, you were getting hotter and bothered by the second.

The Doctor’s eyes glittered and she beamed at you.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined you would be! So wet, so hot, so ready for me…”

Normally you would have been ashamed, self-conscious or shy at words or even looks like hers but the untameable desire in you burned all of your fear or shame down to dust. What was left was your lust, your passion and your love for the Doctor.

And your need for the Doctor to finally, finally touch you.

But after the Doctor was done with her admiring, she crawled on top of you, kneeling between your legs and took once again your nipple in her mouth. You groaned in frustration and pleasure.

This was not were you wanted her tongue to go.

You were still bucking your hips, this time towards her, as she pushed two fingers into your vagina.

You yelped and moaned out loud as her thumb started to stroke your clit.

“More, more, more”, you pleaded with each thrust as you still bucked, now at her hand.

And she added a third finger. She pushed knuckle-deep inside you, curled her fingers upwards and also sucked and nibbled on your nipple with even more force.

“Ahhhh!”

You cried out, pleasure and lust washing over you and yet it was not enough.

“Ahhh, MORE!”

She let go of your nipple and smiled at you, you looked at her a little confused and questioning but her fingers still pumping inside of you and massaging your clit kept you occupied.

“I have something for you, let me get it…”

She slowed down her pace and reached around into the pocket of her trousers and took out her screwdriver.

You watched her every move and as she put it to a low vibrating setting you were starting to be intrigued. You even forgot your disappointment about her slower movements.

“Lift your bottom, please, my love”, she urged you and you raised your butt even higher into the air, you had it partially there anyways to meet her hands and movements.

She removed her fingers from you and you looked at her angrily, you were too weak, to lust-stridden to express your disappointment vocally.

She shook her head.

“Don’t be angry at me, you asked for more and I will give you more!”

And she carefully parted your buttocks and placed her buzzing screwdriver right between them.

The screwdriver’s vibration went over your anus as well partly towards your vagina.

You bit your lips, this was going to be very good!

And the Doctor returned to insert three fingers inside you, immediately starting pumping and massaging your clit with her thumb and biting and pulling on your nipples.

She varied the directions of her tongue on your nipple, drew numbers and letters and all kind of patterns onto you clit with her thumb and took all the time in the world to fill you out with her fingers, stroking, massaging your insides and curling her fingers, finding out which directions got you to scream the loudest…

The vibrating screwdriver on your ass added extra pleasure and you were not holding back.

You bucked your hips, rode along the screwdriver, as much as you could, took her fingers in and screamed out your pleasure into the world around you.

Your moans and screams echoed around you in the forest and it just turned you on even more.

And what you did not know was that the Doctor was a mess, hearing you, hearing the echoes of your screams, feeling you, your wetness all over her hand and your beautiful breast in her mouth made her insides burn just as much.

And then you came. You bucked your hips against her one last time and screamed louder than before. It just came over you.

An orgasm so intense like you never experienced it before.

You think you blacked out for a moment, overcome with your hot, intense relief.

You panted and slowly came back into your body.

And the Doctor?

Her body ached and ached and ached, her desire just as hot as yours, she could not wait to come herself. To be touched by you, to be held by you…

She had carefully continued to pump her fingers inside of you through your orgasm, now she took them out again, stroke over your clit one last time and kissed the nipple she had last worked on.

You laid back, panting.

You slowly came back into your body and took the Doctor in, how she sat between your legs, and grinned.

Your aching, burning pain had subsided but was not gone completely, it had turned down enough that you knew that this had been incredible but that your Doctor was there and still unpleasured. Still unsatisfied.

She rocked back and forth, pushing her legs together.

“Hmm…” You sat up and cocked your head to the side.

“Looks like it’s my turn now to be good to you. Don’t you think?”

“You do not have to do it. I can take care of it myself, you do not have to do anything…”

You sighed, sometimes (very often) you wondered what was going on inside this woman’s head. Did she still think that you did not want her, did not want to touch her?

“Ohhh, no… I want to… desperately”, you darted forwards and kissed her neck, sucking on her skin, her hands immediately grabbed your waist and she sighed, laying her head back to give you more space to kiss her and you smiled against her skin.

“And I also want to make you scream, like you did to me…”, you whispered into her ear, after you sucked on her earlobe.

The Doctor shivered at your words and groaned softly at your soft lips on her ear.

She wanted your lips everywhere!

“But first we need to remove that”, your finger tips graced the neckline of her shirt and she nodded, eyes glued to you.

She raised her arms and you helped her out of her shirt and the tank top with the broad straps underneath and you found that she was also wearing a simple bra.

You removed it and immediately kissed her shoulders, upper chest, breast and nipples like she had done to yours.

She moaned, it was a high-pitched surprised sound that made you smile proudly and that also made your insides tighten again.

You stroke down the sides of her body with soft, determined fingers and stopped at her trousers. You looked up at her and she nodded wordlessly, her eyes still big and in awe.

So you opened her trousers and pushed them down, while she laid back and lifted her cute bottom to the air to assist you.

When she laid there, bare and open, you admired her, just like she had done when you had laid there before her.

But she pushed her legs together and also crossed her arms over her chest.

“Are you uncomfortable? Should I stop?”, you looked at her with a worried expression, you were confused by her actions, but yet she was visible aroused and wanted you. Were the pollen affecting her differently than you?

“I never slept with anyone in this body!”, she admitted, the words tumbling out of her as if she was afraid that she would never say them if she was not quick enough.

“I do not really know how. I want you to feel good and safe and… I don’t know what to do…”, she added with big, worried puppy eye.

“I have a few ideas”, you grinned and laid down next to her on your side.

“You don’t have to do anything and if you don’t like it or I am bad at it we stop and try something else…”

The Doctor looked at you with pure desire in her eyes and you felt her squirm next to you.

“Now…”, you carefully swung a leg over her and straddled her, “I’ll start kissing your neck, we know you enjoy that!”

And with that you were back at sucking, nibbling, softly biting and marking her neck, wandering down to her chest, to her stomach and then finally to her pelvic area.

While you had been working on her, she became first finally relaxed and had then slowly started to open up to you and your touches.

“Ohhh Y/N!”, she had moaned and her legs had opened and her hips bucked and you could not hide a pleasant shit-eating grin, while you kissed her down her stomach.

Your hand carefully parted her legs a little wider and palmed her vulva, she bucked against it immediately.

You grinned again.

You could not believe your luck, the Doctor moaning your name in pleasure, bucking and rutting against you, asking for more from you…

You went on to kiss over her stomach and her lower abdomen and stopped right before you reached the insides of her thighs.

“Hnnnghhh, Y/N… Please!”

Oh how you wanted to hear that, to hear her moan and beg for more from you.

And you happily obliged.

You opened her folds with one hand and kissed directly onto her hot, wet core.

She jolted up, as your lips reached her and moaned.

“So this is what it feels like…”, she said and you licked directly through her slick folds and the Doctor gasped.

And you went all in. Sucking on her clit, pushing a finger inside of her, feeling her walls around it, pumping a little and then exchanging your finger with your tongue, drawing patterns all over her.

Pushing your tongue inside of her, licking as much as you could reach…

“Ohhhhhhhh, plea-please! Don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”, the Doctor begged, clawing at the floor beneath her, pushing herself into your face.

“Deeper, deeper!”, she screamed as you used your fingers and tongue simultaneously on her, pushing deep inside her, licking and lapping all of her overflowing wetness…

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” and she came and screamed and nearly squirted and bucked her hips and you suckled on her clit throughout her orgasm, letting her ride it out.

The Doctor breathed out and laid back, her chest was heaving and you admired your work.

The Doctor all loose, satisfied and torn apart.

The Oncoming Storm stilled at your hands and tongue. At your love.

She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could look at you and breathed out.

“Whew, this was something, wasn’t it?”

You nodded.

“Oh yes!”

“We should try to get back to the TARDIS as long as we still can”, she said while sitting up and reaching for her clothes.

You followed her movements and your shoulders slumped.

Was she done with you, was this an one time thing due to dangerous pollen and an immediate threat?

You sighed and breathed in deeply, your arms and legs felt like jelly and you just wanted to rest for a awhile on this beautiful lush planet with the sweet, flowery air and the Doctor between your thighs.

You felt yourself getting all tingly and aroused again, apparently you were not done yet…

“Doctor can we please stay for a moment? If this was the last time that this happened I want to take it all in…”

The Doctor was already pulling up her trousers again and tucking her shirt in as she turned towards you, smiling brightly and bending down to you.

“Listen, YN, listen very closely now”, she took your face in her hands and you just wanted to melt into her eyes full of stars. Her beautiful lips, swollen and pink and perfect…

“Y/N, I love you, I love you very much but we have to get off this planet! The wind has turned, don’t you smell it? The pollen are everywhere now and while I feel like I have never felt before, thanks to you and I hope, and think I know,”, she smiled proudly at these words, “you feel like I do, too, we have to get away from here NOW!

The more pollen we breathe in, the more dangerous they become to our nervous system and right now we are in the strongest place to fight them off. We both climaxed very nicely and our bodies are happy and relaxed, so please, get off the ground now!”

She was right. Your orgasm had helped to think more clearly again and while your skin and nipples and pussy and overall your whole body was sensitive and excited about being touched again, you still felt like yourself.

And maybe she was down to continue once you were safely in the TARDIS…

“Okay”, you sighed and pushed yourself up.

You quickly put on your panties, blouse and pants, there you had to grab her arm for stability and stuffed your bra into the pocket of your pants. You definitely did not feel like wearing it, too tight and unpleasant and putting it on just took too much time.

The Doctor grabbed your hand but instead of starting to walk she pulled you closer to her.

“You know we can continue again as soon as we are in the TARDIS… You know that, right?”, she quickly purred into your ear and a warm shiver ran down your spine and you giggled excitedly.

“Yes please!”

And the two of you ran towards the TARDIS, laughing, giggling like school girls.

Once inside you collapsed to the ground, trying to catch your breath while the Doctor was working on the console.

“Hey”, she turned to you, “I know a beautiful nebula, there are no flowers and definitely no people around, we can be just on our own…”

She came closer, while the TARDIS was wheezing and huffing around you, squatting down next to you.

“There I can make you scream even louder than on the moon…

I could kiss you and nib you and taste you and I promise you will forget your own name…”

“Is that so?”, you whispered, voice low and breathy and you slowly, tantalisingly so, opened the buttons on your blouse, one by one, the Doctor’s eyes glued to your every move.

She gulped and you smiled.

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