valentines treat | bf!geto suguru x f!reader - 1.1k wc
⤷ you give your boyfriend a little surprise for valentines.
cw - 18+, established relationship, geto is so smitten, restraints (a ribbon around the wrists), fingering, some finger sucking, squirting, praises, a little fade into the dark at the end. | a/n: a little rushed but i desperately wanted some valentines suguru!
"oh?"
suguru had left the apartment you both shared early in the morning to retrieve some fresh flowers, your favourite. it was valentines after all, and he wanted to dedicate the entirety of the day to you.
it wasn't as if you didn't already plague his mind for hours and hours. he could just express his love more vividly on this day, having planned out little activities he wanted to experience with you, a lot of kisses he wanted to share with you. even a dinner reservation had been made at a rather luxurious restaurant you'd been aching to visit for the evening.
what he didn't expect was to find you sprawled on the bed, wrists tied above your head with a frilly red ribbon, the tie clumsy enough to show him that you were the one behind this little act. a black lingerie adorned your body, clinging to your skin perfectly, the translucent fabric attached to the bra falling on your waist. he couldn't recall ever seeing it before, realising that you had gotten this behind his back.
"happy valentines-!" you voice cracked a little at the end, flustered, eyes wide, seeking his approval. being so open and exposed had left you feeling vulnerable, your body shaking ever so slightly from the subtle chill lingering in the air.
his gaze instantly darkened, the little gift bag in his hand long forgotten.
"oh, suguru!" your words came out as a wail, cheeks glistening with tears while you lay on his lap, legs raised a little. his fingers — his index and his middle — were shoved deeply inside your pussy, pumping in and out vigorously, the squelching noises echoing in the room.
your wrists were still tied up, making you look like a present he was intent on devouring up.
"didn't know that my sweet girl would work so hard to gift me like this." suguru's voice was deep, a little restrained, as if he was attempting to control himself and not lose himself at the sight of you looking so sweetly wrecked, your juices coating his fingers.
he'd taken your panties off — neatly, thankfully — his touch having been desperate. his thumb was rubbing firmly on your clit, making your toes curl as sharp jolts of pleasure coursed through your body. "was doing my own planning, y'know. had gotten a little dinner planned, a whole table booked, wanted to feed you chocolates with my hand." he grunted under his breath, yet his voice held no disappointment. his other hand delivered a smack on your ass, not hard enough to sting but firm enough to make your body jolt, a cry leaving you.
"wanted to make you happy." you sputtered out through your whimpers, and his eyes, deep and focused, snapped towards you, his hand rubbing gentle circles on the skin he'd just smacked.
"you always do." his gaze softened, his other hand soon coming up to brush strands of hair away from your sweat slicked forehead. "you make me so happy. fuck, can never stop thinking about you, baby. never."
your face was buried onto the front of his shirt, a black buttoned up shirt with the top three buttons undone, fitting his torso a little too well, making your heart skip a beat as you stared at the way his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed, awestruck by you. you wanted to grip onto his arms, touch him in any form whatsoever, yet the ribbon around your wrists held you back.
your walls clenched around his fingers, unable to bear the way he seemed to find your sweet spot so seamlessly, rubbing against it. your hips were bucking upwards to meet the thrusts of his fingers, warm pressure building up in your abdomen.
"open your mouth." suguru instructed, his voice achingly soft, his free hand nearing your mouth as you parted your lips without thinking twice, too absorbed in the pleasure to protest. "good, very good." his breathing was slightly ragged as he pressed two of his fingers against your tongue, biting back a groan at the way your tongue curled around the fingers with ease, suckling on them.
"mmf, so close." you whimpered around his fingers, your clit pulsating under his thumb as he kept rubbing it, making no changes to his pace. he hummed, not ceasing his movements. the knots building in your stomach intensified, a dam threatening to break.
it was all familiar, exciting even, until your eyes widened when you felt a foreign intensity building, a strangled gasp leaving you. you struggled to warn suguru, not having enough time, your hips meeting the thrusts of his fingers on their own.
soon enough, you reached your brink and your orgasm wrecked through you once the pressure exploded, your legs convulsing as you came on his fingers, gushing out liquid that seemed to still his fingers for a second.
"oh fuck." he groaned out, not realising how you'd bitten down onto his fingers through your orgasm, enamoured at the way you'd squirted all over his lap and the bedsheets underneath, a smile breaking onto his mouth as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, leaving you panting softly.
your brain struggled to make sense of what had happened, long having melted into mush. you tried to lean upwards, gasping at the sight of your thighs glistening. "d-did i…?" you bit your bottom lip, a little embarrassed. though before you could let the thoughts swallow you over, suguru scooped you up in his arms, placing you properly on his lap, uncaring about his pants being soaked, his raging erection almost painfully evident.
"yes," suguru kissed near your quivering mouth, smiling. "looked so gorgeous. did so perfect for me." he moved down to your neck, pressing a soft kiss near your pulse, his fingers reaching down to untie your wrists from the ribbon, tossing it aside. his hand then reached over to your back to caress you, fingers edging near the hook of the bra that you wore.
"i feel so tingly." you breathed out, the aftershocks of the orgasm making goosebumps appear on your arms, fingers digging into his shoulders. blood rushed onto your cheeks as he unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts.
"i know, baby, i know." he hummed, his warm hands finding their way to your breasts, hiving them a light squeeze, feeling your breath hitch. "let me take care of you, hm? wanna make my pretty girl feel even more good." he whispered before leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, earning a little whine from you as you instinctively pushed down onto his crotch, making him close his eyes, his hands moving down to grip your waist firmly.
you just hoped that you both would be done before the dinner reservation he'd made for this evening.
warnings. mdni. fem reader. guided (?) blow job. 3sums, cum eating. fwb? deep throating. characterization is prob wonky oops, experience gap, throat bulge (?) typos n unedited
summary. your throat’s got limits. luckily, help’s ready.
Kirara isn’t nearly as possessive as Hakari swears she is, and the fact that you’ve got your glossy lips wrapped around her boyfriend’s oozing tip is proof enough of that. Her jealousy is usually a fixed wall where his exes are concerned, thankfully, you aren’t one of them. You’re the one person she doesn’t mind sharing with. Cute as a button and pathologically clumsy, there’s a certain lack of grace in the way you move that inspires a sense of responsibility in her, a feeling that borders on the maternal.
You had practically collapsed into their laps earlier, whining about some guy from the weekend. The story was tragic in a pathetic sort of way—apparently, your throat is an anatomical mismatch for anyone over a certain caliber, and you’d ended up ruining a perfectly good pair of jeans with your dinner. It wasn’t the first time. You have a habit of failing the physical exam of modern dating, and Kirara, ever the pragmatist, decided it was a skill issue that needed serious addressing.
So here you are, pinned between Hakari’s knees, manicured nails digging crescent shapes into his thighs as you cough, desperate for a lungful of air. “I can’t do it,” you gasp out, your voice trembling and thick with spit. You pull away, looking entirely uncoordinated as you try to catch your breath. “Too much…my jaw s’lockin’ up, I can't—” You trail off and stare down at the rug, shoulders slumping in defeat. You’re completely overwhelmed, whether by the sheer, imposing size of him or the simple fact that you haven’t caught a decent breath in minutes.
Hakari doesn’t bother with a dramatic display. Instead, he goes still, a heavy silence settling over him that’s way more intimidating than a shout. He looks down at you, eyes half-lidded with a look of bored discontent that cuts deeper than any insult. "Man, you’re really killin' it doll.” Hakari says gruffly, "And not in the good way. If you’re gonna fold every time things get a little tight, why are you even on the floor?"
It’s obvious he’s losing his edge. He’s rock hard, cock hot ‘n throbbing, begging for a release that you’ve only met with tears, gags, and a whole lot of complaining. You know patience has never been one of his virtues, but the complete lack of concern is frankly jarring. Your spit-covered lip juts out in a tiny, offended pout, prompting Kirara to lean over from the couch and dig a sharp nudge right into his ribs.
“Knock it off, Kin. You’re not helping,” Kirara scolds and slides off the cushions to join you on the floor. Her warmth settles against your side as she rubs comforting circles into your back, feline-like eyes narrowing at the man above. “Let her take her time.”
Hakari huffs, a sharp puff of air through his nose, and leans forward to catch your jaw in a firm grip. His thumb tilts your face up, tracking the mess of tears and black mascara streaming down the plump curve of your cheek. “Look at her, babe.” He turns your head toward Kirara, forcing eye contact to prove his point. If he wasn’t so fucking built, and if you weren’t currently shaking like a leaf under his weight, you might have actually swung on him for the disrespect. But you’re stuck, pinned by his strength. “Fifteen minutes ‘n she’s still crying like I'm shoving a blade down her throat.”
The comment only irritates you further, but you bite your tongue and swat his hand away. You turn your attention back to Kirara, a look of pity etched onto her cutely rounded face. She taps a black nail against her pierced chin, looking deep in thought—likely trying to find a way to teach you that doesn't involve you choking. You admire her determination, silently wishing the other person in the room would follow her example instead of acting like an agitated brute.
Kirara stops and lets her hand drop to your shoulder, squeezing it once to ground you. “Alright,” she finally says, amethyst eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes your mouth go dry. “Watch what I do, ‘kay? Seein’ it might make it easier.”
You aren’t entirely sure what she means, but you nod anyway. Without wasting any time, Kirara moves forward, lacking any of the clumsy hesitation that has been tripping you up. She settles her hands high on Hakari’s muscular thighs, right over the red marks that are already beginning to fade. He doesn’t say a word, but the change in his energy is instant; the bored expression vanishes, replaced by a lazy, knowing smirk as he watches her.
Now, you’re no expert, but you can tell Hakari is built like a prize. He’s thick ‘n long, a bronzed shaft topped with a tan head and anchored by heavy balls. A trail of dark, curly hair starts at his navel and snakes down, disappearing into skin steeped in honeyed light.
Kirara leans forward and rubs her cheek against his cock, an intimacy that makes watching feel like an intrusion, invitation or not. She drags her tongue up, tracing every prominent vein and gathering the beads of moisture you left behind. Then, she opens wide and sinks her mouth over the head. In the sudden quiet of the room, the wet, sliding sound of her throat working is the only thing you can hear.
You watch, lightheaded and with a knot of spit hardening in your own throat. You can't even swallow it down as you watch her take him deep, her nose pressing right into his curls. One of Hakari’s large hands reaches down, fingers tangling deep into Kirara’s black hair to guide her. His grip is firm as he dictates the pace, leaving her no choice but to take every last inch of him until the imprint of his cock is visible against the skin of her throat.
Hakari is taking up the whole couch with a careless manspread. He’s slouched, lazily. One hand still tangled deep into Kirara’s hair as she bobs her head on him, hooded eyes sharp as they flicker over to you.
You’re sitting there with your hands folded neatly in your lap, looking half-shy ‘n half-mesmerized. The second you work up the nerve to look up, his gaze hits you like a physical weight, making your thighs clamp shut to try and smother the heat pooling between them. It’s a adorable look on you, and Hakari actually feels a flicker of guilt for being such a dick earlier—putting you on the sidelines with his complaints.
“You gonna sit there lookin’ all dizzy, sweetheart, or you ready for another taste?” His voice is a strained, raspy scrape, dropping an octave just as Kirara swivels her head to keep her rhythm steady.
You do wish he’d found a less abrasive way to ask, but the sting of being left out is starting to set in—and technically, you do need the practice. So, you finally crawl into the cramped, narrow space between them. The move earns a muffled hum of approval from Kirara and a grin from Hakari. The atmosphere between the three of you is thick ‘n suffocating, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and faint white musk. You’re close enough now to see the feverish flush on Kirara’s cheeks and the way her throat jumps with every desperate, rhythmic buck of Hakari’s hips.
Unsure of what else to do since Kirara has his entire length occupied, you focus on the only part left unoccupied. You lean in and begin to suckle on his heavy balls, your fingers acting nimble and quick as you fondle the one your mouth can't reach. The contact earns a noise from Hakari, his hand coming down to cup your cheek with surprising tenderness. "Motivated now, aren’t you?" he drawls, soft at the edges. You know it’s a jab at your earlier hesitation, but the way his voice softens makes it feel almost affectionate.
He turns his attention back to Kirara—a sight for sore eyes, looking up at him with a dazed expression. Her long lashes batting up at him, with every blink.
Then, sensing your eagerness to prove yourself, she decides it's time to swap. She pulls away with a soft gasp and a wet, echoing pop, smacking her shiny lips as she nudges you forward until you’re face-to-face with him once more.
You open as wide as your tiny mouth can manage, taking the full, heavy weight of him and hollowing your cheeks just like she demonstrated. The sheer size of him stretching your throat is a stinging ache, but the discomfort vanishes the moment a low, guttural vibration ripples through his frame. Hakari slumps his head back against the couch, letting out a ragged, broken sound of approval—a raw noise that hits your tongue so perfectly it sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your needy cunt, making you ache.
“Fuck, look at that,” he rasps, his hips giving a small, involuntary twitch against your tongue. “Knew you had it in you. Just had to stop overthinking ‘n start takin’ it.”
Kirara watches, genuinely impressed as you take shallow breaths through your nose and bob your head, lasting much longer than your first attempt.
Unfortunately, luck is a fickle thing, and your lungs eventually scream for air. You pull back with a wet, desperate gasp, but the momentum doesn't stop ‘cuz Kirara is already diving back in, her tongue lapping hungrily at the beads of pre oozing from his tip to keep him teetering on the edge and because you pulled off at the exact moment of no return.
One final, devastating lick from Kirara, has a thick, hot mess spluttering out, landing heavy ‘n stringy across Kirara’s pink, waiting tongue. She doesn’t even blink, Instead, she turns to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes and captures your lips in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Your eyes go wide as you feel the gooey, salty warmth of his release invading your mouth.
You bolt upright with a petty thought: if you have to taste it, so does he. You lean forward ‘n smear his own release right back into his mouth with a deep, messy kiss. You’re expecting him to recoil or get agitated, but when you pull back, he wipes a stray streak from his lip with the back of his hand. He lets out a low chuckle, “Playin’ dirty, yeah?”
He doesn't wait for an answer, hands lunging out to grab your waist and haul you onto his lap. You feel tiny and pathetic against his frame, your cunt pressing right against his thighs. He leans in ‘n gives it right back, forcing another wet, nasty kiss down your throat that tastes like him and Kirara.
Kirara smiles, looking proud of how well you two are getting along, and even prouder that your throat has learned a few new tricks.
asmr was always something suguru found soothing, even in his darkest moments. he loved to dim the lights in his bedroom, turn on some atmospheric noise, and relax to some asmr playing from his phone. when he was younger, he used to rewind a specific part of his favourite tv show because he liked how it sounded. the words whispered ever so gently made the back of his head, all the way down his spine, tingle. it was a weird feeling, but one he enjoyed nonetheless.
he’s always had trouble sleeping, but asmr has helped with that a lot. it gets him to sleep a lot quicker than if he goes to sleep without it.
when the two of you started dating, he avoided bringing this up. some people think asmr is weird, and even though he knew you’d never judge him for something as trivial as that, he was still embarrassed. he struggled to sleep during your first few sleepovers, all while you slept peacefully beside him, all curled up in his arms.
he’s never brought up his need for asmr. you’ve been tossing and turning for hours, huffing when your eyes just can’t stay closed. there’s no reason for it, you and suguru had a big day together. you had to wake up early to get in line for the theme park, you spent all day there and got dinner afterwards. normally, a day like that would completely knock you out, but you just can’t get to sleep tonight.
“honey…”
suguru groans after you flipped onto your back for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. he pulls you back against his chest, tucking his face into your neck, his arms wrapped around you tight to hold you still. you settle, for about five minutes that is, until you start wiggling around, wanting to change positions once again. he sighs, trying to do the usual things he normally does to calm you down - rubbing your back, playing with your hair, but you just don’t seem to settle down.
“something bothering you?”
he mumbles, his voice gravelly yet oh so soft. your body almost immediately relaxes at the sound of it, a soft sigh escaping your lips before you shake your head.
“not really…”
you reply, lids fluttering just a little. suguru tilts his head downwards, trying to catch a glimpse of you. did that work?
“hm… you just can’t sleep?”
he asks in that same exact tone, smiling when you melt into him. you nuzzle against his chest, curling into him a little more.
“..keep talking..”
you murmur, already feeling more relaxed than before. his fingers trace shapes up and down your back, his voice gentle as he starts to tell you about his day - how he went shopping, what he washes when he was doing the laundry, what he made himself for lunch, even the exact recipe for what he made for dinner. anything that popped into his mind, he whispers to you in that calming your voice. like you’re very own personal asmrist.
and it works, you’re lulled to sleep, all wrapped up in his arms, practically drooling on his chest for the rest of the night, all the way to the morning. when making breakfast with suguru the next morning, you decide to bring it up.
“you should totally start doing asmr.”
you comment while stirring your tea, something meant to be a joke but suguru seems a little more intrigued by the idea.
“yeah? why do you say that?”
he takes a sip of his coffee, eyeing you curiously as you turn around to face him, a little surprised to see how invested he is in the idea.
“you have a very calming voice, it’s relaxing.”
you bring the tea up to your lips, watching the big smile that breaks out onto your boyfriends lips.
“well, maybe i’ll have to have a think about that then…”
── synopsis .✦ married as a truce, you are bound to emperor suguru geto, a man who keeps you at a careful, infuriating distance. when your patience finally snaps, an argument forces the truth into the open: his restraint was never indifference, but love he believed was unreturned.
── contains .✦ emperor!suguru, arranged marriage trope, princess!reader, fem!reader, light angst, miscommunication, or lack of, brat taming, hair pulling, spanking, doggy style, missionary, belly bulges, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cockdrunk!reader, whipped!suguru, pussydrunk!suguru, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink, oral (f!recieving), aftercare, suguru might be a little crazy about reader, obsessed!suguru?, mdni!
── word count .✦ 4.1k!
You had always known that your life was not entirely your own.
As the daughter of a beleaguered king from a small, resource-strapped kingdom on the fringes of the empire, your existence had been shaped by the whims of politics and survival.
Whispers of war had echoed through the marble halls of your family’s palace for years, growing louder with each passing season as the mighty Empire of the East expanded its borders like an unyielding tide.
Your father, a man whose crown weighed heavier on his brow than on his head, had exhausted every diplomatic avenue, every tribute of gold and grain, to appease the emperor who loomed over all like a shadow.
And then came the proposal – not a request, but a decree.
The emperor, Suguru Geto, would spare your kingdom from conquest if you were offered to him in marriage.
It was a bargain struck in desperation, your hand traded for the lives of thousands. You had no say in the matter, of course. Your protests fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the clamor of relief from your father’s advisors.
“It is an honor,” they told you, their voices laced with false cheer. “The emperor himself has chosen you.”
But honor felt like a chain around your neck as preparations for the wedding consumed the kingdom.
Servants bustled about, draping your chambers in silks imported from the imperial capital, fitting you for gowns that whispered of elegance and submission. And through it all, the stories about him painted a portrait that chilled you to the bone.
Suguru Geto was no ordinary ruler; he was a force of nature cloaked in imperial robes.
They said he was cold, his precision in governance as sharp as a blade. He commanded entire rooms without uttering a word – his mere presence enough to silence dissent and bend wills. Always serious, never one for frivolity or warmth, he ruled with an iron fist wrapped in velvet gloves.
Rumors swirled of his unyielding stare, capable of stripping away pretenses and exposing the raw truth beneath. You imagined him as a statue come to life, beautiful perhaps, but devoid of the spark that made men human.
The journey to the imperial capital was a blur of guarded caravans and endless roads flanked by the empire’s vast armies.
Your heart pounded with a mix of dread and resignation as the towering spires of the palace came into view, piercing the sky like the teeth of some ancient beast.
The wedding itself was a spectacle orchestrated to perfection, a union of power and sacrifice under the watchful eyes of nobles, generals, and foreign envoys. You stood at the altar in a gown of crimson and gold, the colors of the empire, feeling like a lamb adorned for the altar.
And then he appeared.
Suguru Geto stepped forward from the shadows of the grand hall, his presence rippling through the assembled crowd like a stone dropped into still water.
He was taller than you had envisioned, his frame lean and commanding, clad in robes of deep black embroidered with silver threads that caught the light from the chandeliers above.
His long, dark hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, framing a face that was both strikingly handsome and profoundly unreadable. High cheekbones, full lips pressed into a firm line, and eyes – those piercing dark eyes – that seemed to hold the weight of empires within them. He moved with a deliberate grace, each step measured, as if the very ground yielded to his will.
You expected the coldness, the precision, but not this... politeness.
As the ceremony began, officiated by a high priest whose voice echoed off the vaulted ceilings, Suguru turned to you. His gaze met yours for the first time, and there was no disdain, no indifference – just a quiet intensity that made your breath catch.
“It is an honor to stand before you today.” He said, his voice smooth and low, carrying the weight of formality without the edge of cruelty you had feared. The words were polite, scripted perhaps, but delivered with a sincerity that surprised you.
When the time came for the exchange of vows, his hand reached for yours. His touch was firm, fingers encircling your wrist with a possessiveness that sent a murmur through the onlookers.
To them, it must have looked like a claim, a silent declaration of ownership over the bride offered from a conquered land. His thumb brushed lightly against your pulse point, a fleeting contact that lingered just a moment too long, possessive in its subtlety.
But to you, it felt restrained, as if he were holding back a tide of something deeper. He didn’t squeeze or demand; instead, he released your hand with a gentle precision, stepping back to allow the priest to continue.
The feast that followed was a whirlwind of opulence: toasts raised in crystal goblets, platters of exotic fruits and roasted meats, musicians playing melodies that wove through the air like silk.
Suguru sat beside you at the high table, his posture impeccable, engaging in quiet conversations with his advisors. He turned to you occasionally, offering a nod or a brief question about your journey, always polite, always reserved.
“I hope the capital treats you well.” He commented at one point, his eyes flicking to yours before returning to the room. There was no overt possessiveness now, just that careful distance, as if he were navigating an invisible boundary.
You nodded, murmuring your thanks, but inside, confusion swirled. The man before you was not the monster of rumors; he was serious, yes, but his politeness disarmed you.
Yet, as the night wore on and the guests departed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was merely the beginning of a life tethered to a stranger.
The first weeks of your marriage unfolded in a haze of adjustment.
The imperial palace was a labyrinth of grandeur: endless corridors lined with tapestries depicting the empire’s triumphs, gardens that bloomed eternally under the care of silent gardeners, and chambers that dwarfed anything you had known back home.
Your days were filled with the quiet routines of a new empress: lessons in court etiquette from stern-faced tutors, audiences with the emperor’s inner circle where you were introduced as a symbol of unity, and solitary afternoons wandering the palace grounds, trying to find your place in this vast, impersonal world.
Suguru, true to the tales, was a phantom in your shared life.
He rose before dawn for council meetings, his days consumed by the machinery of empire – decrees on trade routes, strategies against border skirmishes, audiences with vassal lords.
You saw him at meals, formal affairs where conversation was sparse and laced with protocol. He would inquire after your comfort with that same polite detachment:
“Have the seamstresses provided suitable attire?” or “Does the library suit your interests?”
His touches, when they occurred, were minimal: a hand at the small of your back to guide you through a crowded hall, fingers that rested there with a firmness that bordered on possessive, drawing sidelong glances from the courtiers.
But he never lingered, never crossed into intimacy. He was trying, you sensed, not to overstep, to respect the boundaries of an arrangement born of necessity rather than choice.
Nights were the hardest. Your shared bedchamber was a masterpiece of luxury, with a canopied bed draped in silks and a balcony overlooking the city lights.
But Suguru retired late, often after you had feigned sleep, slipping into the adjoining study to pore over scrolls by candlelight.
When he did join you, it was with a quiet efficiency – he changed into night robes, bid you goodnight with a nod, and turned his back, leaving an ocean of space between you on the mattress. No overtures, no attempts to bridge the gap.
You lay awake, staring at the ornate ceiling, wondering if this was to be your existence: a beautiful cage, shared with a husband who treated you like a fragile artifact.
Months slipped by in this rhythm, the initial novelty of palace life giving way to a creeping isolation.
You threw yourself into diversions to fill the void: studying the empire’s history in the vast library, where shelves towered like ancient trees; tending to a small herb garden in the secluded east wing, the soil grounding you in something tangible; even hosting modest teas for the wives of nobles, though their conversations often skirted around you, laced with curiosity about the “foreign bride.”
Your kingdom’s tribute arrived regularly, reports from your father assuring you that peace held, but the letters were tinged with gratitude that felt like another layer of your sacrifice.
Suguru’s routine remained unchanging. He commanded the court with effortless authority, his presence alone quelling debates in the throne room.
You observed him from afar during public sessions, noting how ministers straightened at his approach, how his rare words cut through noise like a scalpel.
He was precise in everything – his edicts fair but unyielding, his gaze assessing without cruelty. Yet, in private moments, when your paths crossed in the halls, his politeness persisted.
A slight bow of the head, a murmured “Good morning,” and that occasional touch – a brush of knuckles against your arm as he passed a document, possessive in its intent but withdrawn before it could unsettle.
But the distance gnawed at you. As a married woman, you were expected to embody grace and companionship, yet your husband barely acknowledged your existence beyond duty.
Whispers among the servants reached your ears: “The emperor is reserved,” they said, “but perhaps he finds the arrangement... unappealing.”
It stung, fueling a frustration that simmered beneath your composed exterior. You were no longer the sheltered princess; you were an empress in name, but a ghost in practice.
Nights alone in that vast bed amplified the loneliness, the silk sheets cold against your skin, the silence broken only by the distant toll of bells marking the hours.
One evening, after six months of this silent coexistence, the weight became unbearable.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the palace in hues of amber and shadow. You had spent the day in the gardens, pruning roses that bloomed defiantly despite the chill in the air, but your mind wandered to the man who shared your title yet not your life.
Dinner had been a solitary affair in your chambers, the food tasteless on your tongue. Suguru was late again, his study door closed against the world.
You couldn’t take it anymore. Straightening your shoulders, you crossed the room and knocked firmly on the study door. Silence, then a quiet “Enter.”
Pushing it open, you found him at his desk, surrounded by maps and ledgers, his hair slightly disheveled from hours of work – a rare glimpse of vulnerability. He looked up, surprise flickering in those dark eyes before it was schooled into his usual composure.
“Is everything alright?” He asked, setting down his quill.
You stepped inside, closing the door behind you with a decisive click. The room smelled of ink and parchment, a masculine scent that mingled with the faint trace of sandalwood from his robes.
“No,” you began, your voice steadier than you felt, “everything is not alright. We’ve been married for half a year, Suguru, and you treat me like a stranger in my own home. You command empires with a glance, yet you can’t even look at me without this... wall between us.”
He rose slowly, his height unfolding like a shadow lengthening. For a moment, he was silent, his expression unreadable.
Then, he moved around the desk, stopping a respectful distance away.
“I apologize if I’ve made you feel unwelcome,” he replied, his tone polite as ever, but there was a tension in his jaw, a subtle shift in his posture. “This marriage was arranged for the good of your people. I did not wish to impose upon you more than necessary.”
“Impose?” You laughed, a sharp sound that echoed in the quiet space. “We’re husband and wife, not distant allies. You leave me alone to wander these halls, doing ’your own thing’ while I do mine.”
Your voice rose, laced with the bitterness that had been festering for months. “Months have passed, and I feel more isolated here than I ever did in my father’s palace. Do you even see me? Or am I just a symbol to parade at court?”
Crossing your arms, you glared at him, your cheeks flushed with the heat of confrontation. “I gave up everything – my home, my freedom – for this sham, and you can’t even pretend to be interested? It’s humiliating. Everyone whispers about the distant emperor and his unwanted bride. If you hate this as much as I think you do, just say it. End this farce.”
Suguru rose from his chair in one fluid motion, his height towering over you as he rounded the desk.
His expression shifted, the polite mask cracking to reveal a glint of something wilder, more intense: a slight craze flickering in his eyes, like a man on the edge of unleashing what he’d kept chained.
He closed the distance between you in two strides, backing you against the wall with his body, not touching yet, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. His hands planted on either side of your head, caging you in, his face inches from yours.
Those dark eyes bored into you, pupils dilated with obsession, his breath coming a touch quicker.
“You think I ignore you?” His voice was low, a growl edged with that controlled madness, his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes – eyes that burned with possession.
“Gods, woman, you’ve been driving me insane. I love you– obsess over you. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve jerked my cock to stop myself from bending you over the nearest surface?”
His words hit you like a wave, raw and unfiltered, his body pressing closer now, one hand sliding to your waist in a grip that was firm; unyielding.
You opened your mouth to retort, frustration still sparking. “You could’ve just—”
But he cut you off by crashing his lips against yours, the kiss fierce and demanding, his tongue sweeping in to claim every inch.
It wasn’t gentle – it was a release, his obsession pouring out as he devoured you, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back.
When he pulled away, both of you breathing hard, his forehead rested against yours, eyes wild.
“No more waiting,” he murmured, voice husky with need. “You’re coming with me. Now.”
Before you could protest or process, he scooped you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carried you out of the study and down the dimly lit corridor to his private chambers. The palace was quiet at this hour, servants dismissed, leaving only the echo of his boots on the stone floor.
He kicked the heavy door shut behind you, the sound final, and deposited you on the edge of the massive bed, its linens rumpled from his earlier retreat.
You glared up at him, heart pounding, a mix of anger and something hotter swirling in your chest. “You think you can just manhandle me like that? After ignoring me for months?”
Suguru’s eyes darkened, that slight craze sharpening as he loomed over you, shrugging off his outer robe to reveal the taut lines of his chest beneath a simple tunic.
“Oh, I think I can.” He mused, his tone laced with something dark. “And I will. You’ve been a bratty little thing, haven’t you? Snapping at me like you don’t crave this as much as I do. But don’t worry, I’ll fix that attitude.”
He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet and spinning you around with surprising gentleness despite the command in his movements. His hands worked quickly at the ties of your robes, peeling them away until you stood bare before him, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin.
You shivered, trying to twist back to face him, but his palm pressed between your shoulder blades, guiding you down onto the bed on all fours.
“Stay.” He ordered, voice firm. “Ass up, like the needy wife you are.”
Heat flooded your face, frustration bubbling up as you shot a glare over your shoulder. “Needy? You’re the one who’s been—ah!”
The first spank landed sharp on your ass, the sting blooming into warmth that made you gasp. His hand soothed the spot immediately after, rubbing circles that contrasted the correction.
“Watch that mouth.” He warned, though his voice held a thread of praise. “Such a pretty slut, thinking you can talk back to your emperor. But you’ll learn.”
You bit your lip, trying to hold onto the fire, but another spank followed, harder, jolting you forward. “Suguru, you can’t just—”
He tugged your hair then, pulling your head back gently but insistently, forcing you to arch as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear. “I can, and I will. You’ve teased me for months without knowing it. Now, spread those legs wider. Show me how wet you are from this.”
Defiance flickered, but so did desire, your body betraying you as you complied, thighs parting to reveal the slickness between them.
Suguru groaned low in his throat, shedding the rest of his clothes until his hard cock sprang free, thick and veined, the tip already glistening. He positioned himself behind you, the head nudging your entrance, teasing without entering.
“Look at you, dripping for it. Such a good girl under all that attitude, aren’t you? Or do I need to spank this greedy pussy to remind you?”
You pushed back against him, bratty even now. “Just put it in already, or are you all talk?”
His chuckle was dark, obsessed, as he yanked your hair again, the pull sending sparks down your spine.
“Eager wifey.” He murmured, degradation mixing with the way his free hand praised by stroking your hip. “But you’ll beg properly soon.”
With one thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching your walls around his girth.The sensation was overwhelming – full, burning, perfect – and your attitude shattered in an instant.
A moan tore from your throat, your arms buckling as you melted beneath him, body going pliant, obedient. No more fight; just surrender to the cock that filled you so completely.
Suguru stilled, buried deep, his hand releasing your hair to grip your hips instead.
“There it is…” He teased, voice smug as he rocked shallowly, letting you feel every inch. “One push of my cock, and the brat disappears. Look at you, melting like the cockdrunk wife you were meant to be. So obedient now, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
You whimpered, nodding into the sheets, the words hitting harder than any spank. “Y-Yes... please, Suguru...”
He laughed softly, starting a slow rhythm, pulling out almost to the tip before sliding back in, dragging against your inner walls. Each thrust built the pressure, his hands roaming: one spanking your ass lightly now, more for emphasis than punishment, the other tugging your hair to keep your back arched.
“That’s better. My perfect little whore, taking it so well. You’ve been begging for this without words, haven’t you? Strutting around, making my cock ache every night.”
The pace quickened gradually, his hips snapping forward with precision, the slap of skin on skin filling the chamber.
You pushed back to meet him, lost in the drag of his length, the way he hit that spot deep inside over and over. Dialogue flowed between thrusts, his voice a constant tease.
“Tell me how it feels, wife. Does my cock shut that smart mouth of yours?”
You tried to respond sassily at first, the remnants of frustration lingering. “It– it’s good, but you could—oh fuck—go harder...”
Another thrust, sharper, making your ass jiggle and your pussy clench tighter around him.
“Harder? Greedy– n-ngh, greedy brat.” He growled, tugging your hair to pull you up slightly, his chest pressing to your back. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t talk back if you don’t learn to beg f’me.”
“Please,” you gasped, the word breaking free as pleasure coiled tight. “Harder, please, Suguru...”
He obliged, pounding into you with relentless force, his cock bulging your belly slightly with each deep plunge – you could feel it, the outline pressing against your skin from inside.
“Good girl.” He cooed, dragging out each syllable in an almost childish manner. “Look at that – my cock reshaping your pretty pussy. You’re mine now, all mine.”
The first orgasm crashed over you without warning, walls fluttering wildly as you cried out, soaking his length with your release.
But he didn’t stop, thrusting through it, his hand slipping around to rub your clit in firm circles. “Holy shit.” He murmured, obsessed edge in his voice. “Cum again for me, show me how much you need this.”
You were a mess, babbling incoherently as he dragged it out, the overstimulation making your thighs quake. “Suguru—ah!—too much... can’t...”
“You can.” He commanded, spanking once more for good measure, the sting pushing you higher. “Be my lovely wife and cum on your– mmf, your emperor’s cock.”
The second climax built slower, deeper, his pace varying: slow grinds that let you feel the belly bulge, then fast snaps that had you seeing stars.
When it hit, you squirted, gushing around him in hot spurts that drenched the sheets, your body convulsing as you wailed his name.
Suguru groaned, his control fraying. “Fuck, yes—take it all.”
With a final, brutal thrust, he came, flooding your pussy with thick ropes of cum, his hips jerking as he painted your insides white.
He stayed buried, grinding to push it deeper, whispering, “Gonna breed you, fill you up until you’re swollen with my child. My pretty girl, carrying my heir.”
He pulled out slowly after, cum leaking from you, but he wasn’t done.
Flipping you onto your back with ease, he settled between your thighs in missionary, sliding back in with a wet squelch. Your legs hooked around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer as he loomed over you, eyes locked on yours: wild, loving, crazed.
Now, with him face-to-face, the teasing shifted.
You were fully cockdrunk, mind hazy, body pliant as he rocked into you languidly at first, letting the sensitivity build anew.
“Look at you,” he cooed, mixed praise dripping from his lips. “So fucked out already, but still greedy for more. Pussy milking me like it never wants me to leave.”
You nodded hazily, not really processing, just agreeing on instinct. “Uh-huh... more...”
He chuckled, low and affectionate, thrusting deeper to emphasize the belly bulge again, his hand pressing on it. “That’s right, just agree. You’re not even listening, are you? Too cockdrunk to think, huh?”
“Mmh, yeah.” You murmured, eyes half-lidded, lost in the sensation as he picked up speed.
Conversation turned to moans and affirmatives from you, while he teased relentlessly. “Such a good girl now, no more brattiness. Just my pliant girl, taking every inch. Gonna cum inside again, ’kay?”
The rhythm dragged on, his cock stirring his previous load inside you, the slick sounds obscene.
He kissed you deeply, swallowing your whimpers, then trailed bites down your neck as he angled to hit your g-spot. “Feel that? Yeah? Tell me you’re mine, sweetheart.”
“I’m yours…!” You breathed, the words automatic, mind adrift in bliss.
He laughed again, the sound vibrating through you. “Damn right you are. Fucked so stupid, aren’t you? But you love it.”
The final orgasm built like a tidal wave, shared this time. Your walls clamped down, squirting weakly around him as you shattered, crying out.
Suguru followed seconds later, groaning as he emptied another load, hips stuttering. “Hngh, fuck! Take it…!”
Spent, he eased out, but instead of collapsing, he kissed down your body, settling between your legs. “Gonna clean you up.” He promised, voice soft now, obsessed tenderness shining through.
His tongue lapped at your folds, gathering the mix of cum and your juices, sucking gently on your clit until you twitched oversensitive.
“M’kay…” You mumbled, too tired to do anything but agree, especially when he talked so sweetly.
He hummed approval, delving deeper, fucking you with his tongue to scoop out his seed. “Can’t let it go to waste. Taste so good mixed with me.”
You carded fingers through his hair, boneless, as aftershocks rippled.
When he finished, he crawled up, pulling you into his arms. Your bodies tangled, his chest to your back, hand splayed possessively over your stomach.
“Sleep now, my love.” He whispered, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “Won’t avoid you anymore.”
Exhaustion claimed you both, drifting off in a cocoon of warmth, the months of distance forgotten in the intimacy you’d finally claimed.
a/n: can you guys tell when i started rushing this.. i also tried to get fancy i dont know if it worked i just hope you guys like it..
a not so conventional first date | k.c. flins x f!reader - 1.4k words
⤷ fluff, a little suggestive, classic flins flirting, pda (but is it really), briefly mentioned height difference.
just a little something after a months long writers block :( i’m back now!
graveyards; a rather unorthodox location for a first date.
you hadn't deemed a 'first' date necessary. after all, your relationship with flins had been brewing comfortably over the past few months, long having left the barriers of being merely friends. stolen touches under dim lamp posts, mingled breaths shared while guarding one another from the cold, a sneaky kiss he'd graved against your lips before leaving for yet another commission — he never attempted to hide his fondness.
though flins, ever the gentleman, insisted on accompanying you to something special, something that held a label to it.
the night was quiet, your breath visible in the cold as gentle puffs. you noted that his wasn't, it never was. anyone who'd spent time with flins long enough was well aware that it was pointless to question the oddities that came with him. to you, it made him all the more endearing, an object of your curiosities and now your affections.
"are they speaking of us?" you inquired, a smile playing on your lips.
you weren't directly within the graveyard per say. the trail outside was connected to it, adorned with trees that had long shed their leaves, standing eerily as you both walked through them. you didn't wish to intrude the spirits inside, you were content enough to skirt around the area instead.
"yes," flins answered, his lips twitching ever so slightly. "they seem to be quite curious about you, miss."
"ah. rather the nosy bunch, aren't they?" you noted, not offended.
"i'm afraid that any ghost you'll encounter will be similar to them. being dead often makes the spirits grow more… curious." seeing the intrigue present behind your eyes, he continued. "they grow bored easily."
"i see." your fingers brushed against his, testing. he didn't pull away, instead lacing his fingers with yours.
"such a lovely night, isn't it?" flins spoke softly. you loved hearing him speak, loved clinging to the way each syllable seemed to roll of his tongue. he was enchanting, dangerously so, plaguing your thoughts throughout the days and within your dreams too.
you nodded wordlessly, not trusting yourself to say anything right now that wouldn't lead you to be outright embarrassed, your cheeks warming up a little. instead, you busied yourself by looking at his face as you both walked. the light emitting from his lantern flickered onto his face, highlighting the curve of his nose and the depths of his eyes.
"what led you to choose this place, if i may ask?" you asked, curiosity gnawing at you.
flins' steps slowed down, not ceasing. his eyes, ever so enigmatic, looked over at you as a smile stretched on his lips, calm. "in a way, i prefer their company more than those of people." flins gestured to the air. "i had simply thought that being in a place as empty as this would allow us to be… more open with one another." he chose his words carefully, yet the small glint of playfulness present in his tone was enough to speak on its own.
"oh my," you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. "how considerate of you."
"is it to your liking, miss?" his voice dipped lower as his steps came to a halt, turning to face you, causing you to stop as well. "am i to your liking?" he whispered, his free hand leaving yours, gloved fingers finding their way up to your elbow, tracing gently.
your breath hitched at the sudden touch, mind struggling to make sense of his words, especially when he was so close to you.
he leaned down to place his lantern near your feet before getting back up, both of his hands now resting on the tree bark that was just slightly away from meeting your back. you stepped backwards a little, feeling the roughness of the tree bark now grazing against your back, fingers trembling, nearly aching to touch him.
"i wasn't aware that one could be so forward on a first date." you attempted to joke, your words coming out as strained, rougher than you'd intended to. there was no denying that flins had a presence that could enamor anyone with ease. you'd assumed that you were used to it, you really did. how wrong you were.
"i enjoy surprising you, miss." he hummed, one hand reaching up to caress your jaw, trailing the gloved finger up to your ear, rubbing the soft behind. you instinctively nuzzled into his palm, the tension leaving your shoulders.
you mustered up the strength in your hands to reach up, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck, getting up on your tiptoes.
he instinctively leaned into your touched, his nose brushing against your hair. "you look particularly beautiful under the moonlight. not that you always do, but right now…" he trailed off. "simply breathtaking."
blood rushed into your cheeks as you gawked at him, his words rendering you speechless. which, admittedly, frustrated you. you longed to compliment him in such manner, shower him in praises he so deserved, confess how he'd made your world a little better.
flins studied your expression intently, his gaze inevitably softening. you couldn't describe it, but he seemed overwhelmed with feelings albeit the usually calm expression he wore. the flame of his lantern flickered.
"may i kiss you?" he whispered after a while, his hands reaching up to properly cup your face, his palms cold against your warm skin. you wanted to nuzzle in, you wanted him to hold you like this for the entire day.
you had never nodded this fast.
flins closed the distance between your faces, capturing your lips with his, inhaling your breath as he kisses you. it was careful, tender, his fingers pressed firmly against your nape, nose brushing against yours.
you had imagined this before, kissing him. it was unlike any ordinary kiss, it sought to make you feel dizzy and aching for more, feeling your heart squeeze. you busied your hands by tangling your fingers into his long blue hued locks, trying to pull himself closer to you. utterly, impossibly closer.
flins huffed a little against your mouth, amused, his teeth giving the lightest nip on your bottom lip before moving back up to kiss you, this time all the more passionately. his tongue slipped inside your mouth, earning a surprised noise for you. you couldn't comprehend why, but his tongue felt so peculiar. his kiss held no unintended force, no mindless hunger. it was hauntingly beautiful.
you couldn't deduce much of it, your brain melting. all you could think of was flins.
you were first to break the kiss, panting heavily, your entire face burning as you stared up at him with wide eyes, vision a little blurry. the sight of a thin string of saliva still stubbornly connecting you with him made you even more flustered, causing you to yelp. he looked ridiculously good, eyes half lidded and all, heat pooling in your stomach. you wondered how he'd look if he were on top of you, hair disheveled and clothes gone.
how improper, though you craved more and more of him.
"wait-! the ghosts, are they…?" you trailed off, still processing the kiss. somehow, you'd forgotten that you both weren't alone in this otherwise empty place.
flins took a moment to simply stare at you, marveling at the way your lips glistened. oh how he wanted to bite your lips again, kissing you again and again. kissing you all over until all your skin craved would be his lips.
a grin slowly appeared on his lips, mischief flashing behind his eyes. "most certainly." he replied calmly, unbothered.
you gasped, eyes looking around uselessly. "flins!"
flins let out a laughter, melodic, coaxing your breath away as he shrugged, his hands founding themselves down on your waist. "let them watch, miss. it's not as if i've got anything to hide."
you were unable to complain any further, flins stealing your words with yet another kiss. you groaned, futile, before finding yourself melting in his embrace, eyes fluttering shut. he was dangerous, hypnotising even. there was no other place you'd rather be.
you just hoped that you'll have enough strength later on to drag him away and into your house for some much needed privacy.
hello ! you can call me honey. i am 19 years old (‘07), aquarius, and go by she/they pronouns. south asian. currently a law student, very much burnt out and sleep deprived zZz !
the picrew !
i adore talking to people and making friends so don’t hesitate to dm/interact with me. my replies may often be late due to my busy schedule but i do try my best. you can also find me on x: xavistrap.
i love indulging in literature! i have been trying to read more classics as of late. babel by r. f. kuang is one of my obsessions alongside the folk of the air series. i also enjoy gothic horror and a little bit of everything.
an insane fan of watching films. possession (1981) and may (2002) are one of my all time favourites. i love literally all genres, i can’t choose a favourite at all but horror will always have a special place in my heart.
i also enjoy watching shows. while interview with the vampire is my favourite, others include supernatural, the pitt, pluribus, derry girls, fleabag, 9-1-1, bridgerton + some others. i also like animanga. talk to me about jojo’s bizarre adventure and jujutsu kaisen. i am so in love with those series, alongside kimetsu no yaiba, yuukoku no moriarty, devilman crybaby, neon genesis evangelion, mob psycho 100, etc.
currently, jujutsu kaisen is a strong of mine. geto, toji and shoko are my primary favourites, though i also adore choso a lot !
i play both genshin impact and honkai star rail at my own pace, and hence somewhat suck at both of them. if not obvious already, i adore mydei a lot! he’s dear to me and i could rant about his lore the entire day. my other favourites include cerydra, phainon, and dr. ratio .ᐟ.ᐟ flins is my current major interest in genshin because his themes connect to me so much, and his mannerisms never cease to fascinate me, alongside arlecchino being one of my all time favourites. i have also recently become infatuated with lauma, i can NOT go on about my day without thinking of her.
a very lazy player of lads, i’ve just come back after a hiatus. as an f2p, i seldom touch it other than when a xavier banner is happening (and i don’t have funds for him, ever). inevitably, i enjoy the lads lore a lot, not just xavier related but beyond too. sylus has recently made his way to be my second li, he’s just so intriguing and his lore hurts me deeply. i also have a very special place for caleb :]
updated on 5 feb — my current watches: abbott elemantary s5 + the pitt s2 | current read: -
