↺ warnings: none :)
↺ drabble. this is hella indulgent idc
i NEEDED to see more werewolf eren content so i took matters into my own hands >:)
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
werewolf!eren who lives inside a cabin, smack in the forest thats right next to your little village, a small, close-knit community that prefers to live in harmony with nature than to conquer it to build concrete skyscrapers
werewolf!eren who is like a great myth to those who in live in your village. every child has heard his tale by the time they reach 5. no one has seem him in years, but the knowledge of his whereabouts looms like a word about to be spoken. he is both revered and feared.
werewolf!eren who doesn't like humans, like at all. he hates living anywhere in close proximity to them, but his home is all he has left of his mother. so he's made a pact with the village leaders: as long as no human crosses into his part of the forest, there won't be a problem
werewolf!eren who, while going out for a hunt one day, sees a human in his part of the forest. cream-colored frills, and lightweight fabric billow over the grass as you walk. smooth, dark arms glow in the sunlight as you bend down to pluck various flowers, placing them into a woven basket on the ground next to you. his ears perk up at the sounds of soft humming drifting in the breeze. he can't help but feel disgust flooding his chest.
werewolf!eren who appears suddenly in his human form - warns this entitled human with a growl. "get out of my forest and get out now". dirt smears on your dress as you scramble suddenly. warm, deep brown eyes flit around his frame hurriedly. you take him in, his rough, ragged appearance, wild brown hair and fierce eyes.
werewolf!eren who, when greeted by a pleading, stumbling apology, starts to inspect the young girl more closely in turn. green eyes roam over hair that is neatly tucked away in fluffy rows on your scalp, nimble hands are gripping the woven basket deathly tight, and those eyes. those brown eyes of yours. they hold nothing but awe and regret.
werewolf!eren who is decreasingly miffed at this girl's presence, asks you what you're doing in his forest. a soft, shaky voice reaches his ears, and messy, unorganized explanations about "missing the scent markings" and "needing poppies for a hat i'm weaving" are given.
werewolf!eren, who is now hesitant to be appreciative of your earnest, is caught off guard at the request for his name. no one has asked him anything about himself or cared to see him other than a monster. it doesn't seem right. this encounter is taking too long.
werewolf!eren, who isn't fooled by your tricks, tells you to get out of his sight. if you think that you can sway him with a quiet demeanor and innocent act, then you're not very clever. he's lived a long life and knows all too well about the cunning ways of your kind.
werewolf!eren is once again responded to with an apology, and this time, a promise: that it will never happen again. you bid him goodbye, thank him for sparing you, and rush back along the dirt pathway, taking a quick glance back at him before disappearing between the bushes and branches.
werewolf!eren, can't seem to shake the encounter he had with that girl. days later, he is....looking for you. he still remembers the song he heard when he saw you. he frequents that spot, by the cluster of poppies, near the dirt pathway.
werewolf!eren who, while hunting one day, is engulfed by nostalgia as a new, fresh wave of your scent floods his nose. he runs to the spot where you two first met. he sees a patch of new, neatly planted poppy seeds in the spot you had plucked.
werewolf!eren can't help but smile at the quiet gesture. maybe you had some manners after all.
werewolf!eren who decides that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't mind if that odd stranger wandered back into his part of the forest again. perhaps he had some extra poppies he could give you for your hat.
Qifrey despised water, and that was a fact everyone in his atelier knew.
Going as far as to mastering water spells just so he wouldn't have to deal with the element, the man's hatred for water seemingly had no end. You weren't blind to the dirty looks he'd shoot the vapor bubble whenever he'd tilt it a little too much, resulting in a bit of water getting on him. You also noticed that whenever he got too close to a river, he'd lean away from it while a slight frown would be present on his lips.
You also noticed his detest for the rain.
The only time you could recall him standing in the rain without a rainflinger seal to keep him dry was whenever Olruggio attempted to turn in Coco to the Knights Moralis, but as soon as Qifrey was able to convince Olruggio that the matter of Coco could be discussed inside, he was quick to dry off while mumbling about how irritating the rain was.
Aside from that, there was always a bubble around him to prevent the rain from touching him.
You never quite understood his hatred for water, for he's never informed you of the exact reason as to why he despised it. You could assume all you wanted—guess that it was because of the cold temperatures or the way that water made your clothes stick to you like second skin—but you were convinced you would never know the true reason for his hatred, and you were content with that. If your lack of asking for an explanation made him comfortable, then you would live under the idea that you would never hear of the true reason as to why Qifrey hated water.
"It's raining!"
A familiar voice pulled you out of thought, and you peered away from the kitchen window to look over your shoulder.
Tetia was leaning to the side—likely from looking over you so she could see out the window—and Coco and Richeh were beside her.
Coco had an excited expression while Richeh looked up at you, and the "Is it a storm?"
"I wouldn't say a storm," you replied as you looked back over at the window, "but it is raining quite a bit. I haven't noticed any lightening or thunder, though!"
"Do you think we could go outside?"
You turned around to face the girls as you looked at Coco, and you thought for a moment before speaking. "I don't see why not, but you might want to ask Qifrey, first."
"Ask me what?" On cue, the man walked into the kitchen—a soft smile on his face when the girls perked up and dashed over to him.
"Master Qifrey, it's raining!" Tetia exclaimed, and Coco followed with her own excitement.
"Can we go outside?! Please!"
In unison, all the girls looked up at him before saying "please," and Qifrey held up his hands while chuckling. He looked up at you in slight confusion, and you grinned with a tilt of your head.
"Please?" At your taunt, Qifrey playfully narrowed his eyes at you before looking down at his apprentices.
"You all have studied quite hard today, so I suppose this would make a good break, but I don't want you all staying out there for too long. I don't want any of you to catch—"
"AGOTT, WE'RE GOING OUTSIDE!"
Tetia ran off to go find Agott, and Coco and Richeh followed her with laughter while Qifrey let out a sigh.
"A cold."
You snickered as Qifrey finished his sentence, and you walked over to him before taking his hand into yours. You gave his hand a squeeze, and he copied your action as he turned his head to kiss your cheek.
"Are you going outside with us?" You questioned, and you tilted your head to catch his lips. He hummed at your action and lifted his free hand to cup your cheek, but whenever he pulled away, he had a grim expression.
"You don't have to."
"But you all are going out—It would be rude for me not to join." He replied to your words with a smile, but you watched his shoulders slump as he leaned towards you. "But it's also pouring."
"Then why not use magic? Isn't there a seal you use to keep yourself dry?"
Qifrey went quiet as he peered over at the window, and you looked at him for a second before speaking.
"You want to join us." Your emphasis earned a nod from him, and you smiled as you let go of his hand. His arms fell down to his side as you held his face, and he leaned into your hands while you spoke. "The girls understand that you don't like to get wet, Qifrey. If you're worried about them being upset, they won't be."
"I never join you all, though. I just stand there like—like some boring, old man!"
"You are an old man."
Qifrey frowned at you, but it turned more into a pout as your thumbs caressed his skin. "I don't want to be boring."
He pulled away from you as he slowly walked over to the window, and he started to mumble. "I just worry they think like, 'Look at Master Qifrey! He's so boring! He's a boring, boring old man'—Why are you laughing?!"
You snorted as you lifted a hand to cover your mouth, and you looked away while your shoulders shook. You could practically feel Qifrey's wide eye staring at you, and when you looked back at him, he was staring at you with a frown.
"It's just that you're worrying for nothing! They adore you, Qifrey..." You strolled over to wrap your arms around his neck, and he placed his hands on your waist before resting his forehead against yours. "But if you're worried about it, you could always try to join us."
You felt him tense, and your hands trailed to his shoulders as you gave him a pat. "It's just a thought. You don't have to do anything you don't want to..."
You pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "But know that whatever you choose to do, I'll be there."
As Qifrey opened his mouth to reply, you heard the patter of footsteps, and you pulled away from Qifrey to watch as the girls entered the kitchen.
Agott was muttering about how she wanted to study, but once Tetia shot her a frown, she let out a sigh and crossed her arms. Coco walked up to you and held out your robe.
"I grabbed this for you!"
"Thank you, Coco." You took the robe from her before putting it on, and you gestured to the door. "Are you all ready?"
Tetia beamed, Coco nodded, Richeh gave you a thumbs up, and Agott shrugged, which was good enough for you.
As soon as you took a step, the girls were already heading out the door, and you gave once last look to Qifrey before walking out and closing the door behind you.
"Is he not coming with us?"
You looked down at Richeh, and you shrugged. "He might join us in a bit. For now, why don't you go join the others?"
She nodded before walking over towards the girls, and you followed them while occasionally looking back at the atelier as it grew farther away. You hoped Qifrey would join you and the girls, but you also understood if he didn't.
You looked forward and stopped walking as the girls ran around in the rain, and you ignored the way the rain drops hit you. The girls laughter was all you heard until Tetia stopped and looked behind you, lifting a hand to point as the other girls stopped, too.
"MASTER QIFREY!"
You turned around to look at where the girls were looking, and you grinned once you noticed Qifrey walking over to you all.
Without a bubble around him.
Qifrey stopped to stand beside you as he waved to the girls, and he glanced over at you. "Hello, love..."
"Hi, Qifrey."
You leaned forward to kiss his cheek, and you watched as his face flushed. He smiled until he felt a hand tug at his robe, and he looked down to see Richeh staring up at him.
"We want to go jump in the puddles." She said as she pointed towards the big puddles that formed on the grass, and you watched Qifrey's eye widen as he slowly nodded.
"Alright, then..."
Richeh then proceeded to grab his hand and lead him towards the puddles, to which you followed and grabbed his free hand.
He looked back at you while you squeezed his hand. "I told you I would be there."
And with a smile, he squeezed your hand back as you both followed Richeh.
Qifrey is the type to get easily flustered when it comes to you.
But the thing is, we're not talking about affection here. We're talking about the small things—simple things that most wouldn't pay thought to.
Simple things that make Qifrey lose his track of thought and blush.
For starters, you listening to him go on about the history of things always makes him flustered.
Qifrey knows plenty about the history of things, and he often tries to share that history with others—like the girls, for example. He attempts to talk to them about the history of places like Kalhn or the history of certain seals, but most of the time, the girls either run off or get distracted.
He would stop talking until you gently tap his shoulder, and when he looks at you and hears you ask if he could continue, he's tensing up. He'll continue on with the history, but there will be a few times where he stutters or completely forgets what he was saying.
Another thing is when you look at him. Yes—your gaze is enough to make this man lose his track of thought.
He could be talking to Olruggio or one of the girls, and as soon as he meets your gaze, his words are trailing while his attention slowly leaves the conversation.
Olruggio has snapped in his face more times than he can count because Qifrey loses his focus whenever you look at him.
Finally, but certainly not the last of the long list of things that make Qifrey flustered, is your touch.
No, it's not whenever you hold his hand or hug him. He gets flustered whenever your hand grazes his, or whenever you gently place your hand on his arm as you lean over to grab something. He gets flustered whenever you hold onto him so you can grab or do something without losing balance.
Whenever you do any of that, he falls silent and just stares at you while his cheeks slowly gain a more reddish hue.
29% of 568 votes went to Qifrey for favorite character from Witch Hat Atelier, so in honor of him, I'm gonna do a pinterest photo dump. ALL OF THESE IMAGES DO NOT BELONG TO ME. I GIVE CREDIT TO ALL THE AMAZING ARTISTS. Post I am referring to
I think Olruggio is the type of man who would hold your hand in public and then feel embarrassed about it, while Qifrey is the type who would hold your hand with all his might and then kiss your knuckles
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who loves to watch you cook. he’ll stand behind you, arms draped around your waist and chin on your shoulder while he watches you chop up vegetables, muttering little compliments against your neck as you cook
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey whose favorite places on you to kiss are the side of your neck, the top of your head, and the corner of your mouth
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who sometimes secretly views you as a sort of mother/father figure to his apprentices, with the way you take care of them when he’s not teaching them
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who is just so sweet and domestic with you it’s sickening
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who will trace lightly on your arms or thighs or back, wherever he’s touching you. only if you look closely and pay attention will you realize he’s tracing and memorizing spells against your skin, and it makes you giggle at the thought
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who, whenever you finally told him how much you absolutely love his voice, talks to you about anything and everything, no matter how mundane or unimportant - just because he likes seeing the way your eyes soften at his smooth tone
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who has a special talent for talking you through it with that honey-sweet voice of his (adding onto the last one)
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who is such a gentleman with aftercare, wiping you down so slowly with such care and whispering about how you did so, so good
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who’s really proud when he introduces you to his apprentices for the first time, like his spouse is a prized possession of his
₊˚⊹ ᰔ husband!qifrey who is so patient, and forgiving. he acts towards mistakes that you might freak out over the same way he acts when coco draws a line wrong in a harmless spell, sometimes even laugh it off
Qifrey who freaks out whenever he upsets you, his lover.
The man is constantly under some sort of distress, for he has to be. He feels guilt, stress, worry, and sometimes it's everything all at once, which results in him often "snapping," if you could call it that.
When it's late at night or he had lost yet another opportunity to figure out more about the Brimmed Caps, his voice would be more firm than usual. He would speak shortly and mumble his replies whenever you tried to talk to him.
He wouldn't notice your upset expression until he stopped zoning out, and as soon as his brain goes, "hey, you caused that expression," he freaks out.
He's quick to rush over to you and tries to apologize, but even when you say it's fine, he doesn't believe it. He upset you and that's not okay.
So what does he do to show he's truly sorry?
He gets down on his knees, wraps his arms around you, and pulls you close to him.
He would mumble apologies against your robes while his hands grasped at the fabric, and while you could barely understand what he was saying, he would only stop until you told him to do so.
If you placed your hand on his head, he would slightly lean his head back to stare up at you.
Even if you said you forgave him, he's staying on the floor while asking if you're certain, and his hands would travel to your thighs as you nodded.
After that, he would still try to make it up to you. He would cook your favorite meals and shower you in affection (as if he didn't already do that.)
Obsessed with Qifrey because what we see of him is 50% him being the best most kindest teacher and 40% a suspicious and desperate wildcard. But very rarely, just 10% of the time, we get to see him when he’s not being a teacher or being around his friends and family and not being a witch at the scene of a disaster, and he’s like, the most bitchy and hateful creature. Guy who is sick of being in a space. Acting in a way that makes you go “ah, that small withdrawn child grew up into a withdrawn adult who is just barely better at hiding it”. Obssessed. Guy of all time.
I think Qifrey would really enjoy teasing his partner. You’d be minding your business, reading a book or perhaps helping one of the girls with a casting seal the just can’t seem to get right.
Your guard down and the perfect opportunity for qifrey to startle you a bit.
This time, you were organizing things in your study, blissfully unaware of your boyfriend stalking up behind you. You only had a second to notice the shift in the air before a cold hand slid up underneath your shirt. You flinched violently and tried to pull away. Those same cold hands encircling your waist from behind and qifrey could barely contain his laughter now as you squirmed against him.
“I saw you working hard in here and thought you might need the company!” Qifrey snickered.
You did not find it amusing.
“Oh, please don’t give me that look.. you know I’m only teasing.” His infuriatingly cute face and gentle voice probably would’ve made you forgive him instantly.. if it weren’t for the fact you could feel his chest shaking with the laugh he was trying to hold in. Such an asshole.
Early on in your relationship, Qifrey was more bashful about when you went to bed together. He wanted to cuddle and spoon you, but was careful to keep his hands to himself and was worried about making you uncomfortable.
Now, he just wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you as flush to his body as you possibly can be, slotting his leg between yours, and sliding his hand up your shirt to grab his emotional support titty. He kisses the top of your head, and is quickly drifting off the sleep with the smell of your freshly washed hair invading his senses.
And in the morning, he is not at all ashamed to grind his cock between your ass. Waking you up with his soft groans in your ear and whispered praises with your name on his tongue.
synopsis . Trying to coax your usually gentle partner into fucking your throat whilst giving him head. content . afab!reader, somewhat established relationship, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, face fucking, pet names, brat taming, praise, sadism, etc.
author's note: i need him so bad like pls. anywho, answering this request (kinda lol). banner from: “Kubitsuri Danshi to Nikushoku Joshi”
“Y-Yes, down your throat now. Oh my-, just like that. Perrrfect.” Qifrey couldn’t help the words that floated out of his mouth, a hand grasping at the top of your head tightly enough to reveal veins against his skin.
He tried not to buck his hips too much almost every time you sucked him off but it was difficult not to when your head was bobbing so vigorously, letting his twitchy tip kiss ‘n cling to the very back of your throat. He told you he had a stressful day, so all you wanted to do was relieve some of that stress for him—even though he typically advises against doing so adamantly.
You’ve no idea why he’s so keen on remaining stressed and pent up. Nor do you understand how the man goes on and on about how much he hates water and all things wet, yet he’s throbbing against your flattened tongue the moment you stick it out for him.
His wishes aside, all you longed for was to see that other side of him he tried so hard to keep hidden from those most dear. Though, Qifrey had a way of hiding all intimate parts of his personality from those he treasured most.
With the sole exception of sex, of course. While it did relieve some amounts of stress, it most certainly was too satisfactory of an act for him to indulge in with just anyone.
Which is where you come in—his pretty lil’ partner.
“Can you-, hahhh… p-possibly—fuck—slow down, my love?” Qifrey tried to warn you, his fingers taut atop your head as his the muscles in his thighs tensed and his desire to buck his hips upward increased. And yet, you merely lifted your gaze up to meet with his and then began to bob your head up ‘n down even quicker. “N-No, not faster. I-, hnngh.”
The hold he has on you suddenly steels and your eyes widen as you realize you’re hardly able to move. Qifrey’s mentally apologizing for the way he begins to thrust up into your mouth and push your head down to meet with each one.
“I cannot maintain my composure when you suck on me like that,” He huffs, lashes fluttering whilst his pretty face twists up in pleasure. Then he’s tilting his head to the side and casting a half grin down at you, “Fuuuck, you made me do this, y’know. S-Staring at me like that… god, you look so gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.”
You felt your thighs clamp together tightly in an attempt at soothing the sudden ache his words spurred from your body. You weren’t sure if he realized it or not, but this was all you really wanted from him.
“Yeah? You like that, do you?” Sweat begins to build up against the smooth planes of his skin and he’s nearly irritated by it. So much so that he finally slips up and drops that gentle, kindhearted act of his, “Oh, I bet you do.” Your lips smooch down against his swollen base as he holds you in place—the faint tuffs of a white happy trail tickling your skin. “Tell me then, tell me how much you like having your mouth properly fucked. Come now, let me hear it.”
“Mmmph!” You mumble around him, batting your eyes up rapidly at him.
Qifrey chuckles. He did quite enjoy it when you tested him, and that feeling only doubled down when he saw you like this, “Still putting forth your best efforts even when—nngh… y-your mouth is all full of me. How cute.”
Your partner—never boyfriend, for reasons you’re entirely unsure of—gains that different shaded glimmer in his eyes all of a sudden. You relish in the feel of his dick drooling something pleasantly nasty down your throat and he seems to be delighted by the sight of it. That, and the sexy way in which you squirm in between his legs like you wanted him to be meaner to you or something.
“Slow, my love.” He tried to warn you, tried to apply pressure to your head and steady how quickly you sucked at his cock. “S-Slow down, I’m close.”
His voice was so delicate even as his orgasm approached and you found yourself moaning around his shaft as his tone wavered and pitched in reaction.
Then your hands met his legs and you gripped at him, lifting your gaze back up and swirling your tongue across every reachable vein he had to offer you. He wanted you to slow down again, but just like the last time, you refused to do so and proceeded to suck faster ‘n harder.
Things click for him right then.
“Ah? You want me to… oh.” His cock was throbbing all against the constricting walls of your throat and he knew you felt it. Even so, you still swallowed him in deeper and ignored how gags threatened to interrupt your actions. Qifrey found himself grinning, “You’d like to swallow it, would you?”
Naturally, you nod.
The witch before you was many, many things—but a complete pushover for you was not one of them. If you were going to actively disobey his orders of slowing down just to get what you wanted, then he was going to only allow your desires to come forth on his own terms.
Which is exactly why he holds your head as he pushes himself up to stand. You try to pull back as if you needed to breathe but your mouth is rapidly clogged by the length of his cock pushing forward in one, mean thrust.
His balls smack against your chin and he feels you whining around him as he grunts, “Naughty girl.” Qifrey readjusts his hands to the sides of your pretty face before letting out a soft sigh. Though, his calming exhale was rather opposite to the vicious look in his eyes as he began having his way with your mouth, “I do hope this-, hah… satisfies your fantasies well. Mmgh.”
You somehow gain the bratty nerve to try and wiggle your head away from his steeling grip and he seems to find that most humorous.
Cocking his head to the side and narrowing those rude eyes at you, “Still—keep still,” He groans, rolling his hips forward more thoroughly so that you could feel each inch of his cock twitch around your mouth. To his surprise, you manage to stop your squirming, and for that he smiles and says, “Goooood. Now swallow.” before cumming directly down your tongue.
When he soon pulls out of you, he’s left to watch gallops of saliva and his cum string between his tip and your lips. The sight should’ve been seen as disgusting, given how wet and sloppy it was. And yet he was still hard, still twitching in front of your face even as he panted to catch his breath.
It really was unfair how gorgeous of a partner he’d obtained.
He couldn’t help but want to fuck every drop of his frustrations out into you—especially when you were peering up at him with those glossy eyes of yours, looking as though you wanted to go again and again until he had his fill of you.
You move to wipe at your mouth, “Qifr—“
“Actually,” He’s cutting you off rather sharply, taking his dick into one hand and shuddering from the sensitivity of it before his feet shift his body closer to you. Then his other hand finds the top of your head and he’s glaring at you like you’re nothing more than some toy for him to make use of, “I quite enjoyed that.”
You blink once.
Qifrey had a tendency to focus on your pleasure most days, claiming that doing so is most enjoyable for him too. But you knew there was another side of him he wasn’t showing you quite yet, and apparently this was it.
His fingers disappear into your hair and his palm is nearing the back of your head. You knew he was about to absolutely ravish your throat based on the way he was holding onto you.
“Let’s go again, shall we?” Serves as the only warning from his plush lips. Then you watch him move his hand from his dick and to your jaw, tipping your chin up before he swipes a thumb over your cheek in awe. He hates water but it would be quite the sight to see it falling from your face all because of him, “Preferable until you’re crying… and after that, you’ll keep quiet about this. Understood?”
Qifrey had to make sure your silence was a given these days, seeing as you’d created a small habit of hinting at the intimate nights you experienced with him. And to make those matters worse, he’d found out that you shared these vague details with Olruggio of all people.
Hence why you’re pouting, “Not even—“
The witch cuts you off by nudging the hardened edges of his cock in between your lips all unevenly, letting his shaft gloss over your wiggly tongue and deep down into the back of your trachea—easily causing you to gag.
“You will tell no one about this.” He orders, yanking your head back so that only your lips are left to quiver around his tip, “Not a soul. Now nod if I’m understood.”
Obediently, you do.
Then his cheerful grin returns, despite that darkened look remaining present in his eye. “Good girl.”
Qifrey's favorite name for his lover ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა
I don’t think that Qifrey would be the type of guy to use a lot of pet names very often, but he would use them occasionally when he’s alone with his lover, and if Qifrey had to choose (in his eyes) the best one to use while referring to his partner, he would choose one specific one that is his absolute favourite. He likes names like „my love” or „my beloved” but nothing sounds this good compared to his favourite one. Darling. He really likes how it rolls on his tongue. And the face his beloved makes whenever he calls them this while hugging them from behind sleepily muttering into their ear to stay a bit longer with him in bed in the morning, or after he kisses the crown of their head as a thank you after they did something for him<3 He just can’t help himself. This name is reserved for them and for them only. I’m his eyes; nobody else is worth this title. And besides, he just really likes calling the love of his life his darling. (◜‿◝)♡.
In which Qifrey, Olruggio and Beldaruit try to put their fussy apprentice to bed.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
⋮ ♯; ⤷ Relationships .ᐟ Qifrey x apprentice!reader, Olruggio x apprentice!reader, Beldaruit x apprentice!reader – all separately, all platonic
⋮ ♯; ⤷ Content warnings .ᐟ none
⋮ ♯; ⤷ Word count .ᐟ 3,2k – approx 1k per character
⋮ ♯; ⤷Author's note .ᐟ fussy baby needs a nap and i want my papas to put me to bed. the fic was written with younger reader in mind (like 5-7 yo probs). just a fussy child, okay? (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
˗ˏˋ ★ ― QIFREY ‼
The atelier, far away from any large witch settlements, was slowly dimming. The cottage, once bustling with energy, was putting itself to sleep.
Well, at least the young apprentices were. The black haired old man, living in the adjacent atelier, was always tired. He never really had energy and therefore couldn't light up the atelier.
And the master of the atelier was a calming presence in the cottage. One that managed to soothe his energetic kids.
Most of the time at least. One of his apprentices was showing a very strong will of not going to bed. And, naturally, that apprentice was you.
Sitting cross-legged on the cushion, you glare towards the stairs leading into the kitchen.
"Darling, it's bedtime. Go get ready, okay? I'll come check on you, don't worry," a mellow voice reaches your ears. Qifrey gives you a smile as he takes the remaining dishes off the table and carries them to the kitchen.
Left alone in the living room, you glare even more. You didn't want to go to bed. And you didn't want to go get ready. You wanted to play still. You weren't tired at all!
After a few beats, you turn around, looking over the room. Your little head was trying to figure something out. Some way to not go to bed.
"Hm? Oh, darling, is something wrong? Why are you still here?" Qifrey's soft voice brings you out of your mind. The man was standing above you again, tilting his head a bit.
"No... just... don't wanna go to bed!" you declare.
"Ah... I see. Well, that's fine. But I think you should still go get ready. You don't have to fall asleep straight away," he offers you a smile. But something stirred in your heart nonetheless.
"No! I don't want to!" a huff leaves you. And at that moment, Qifrey realises that you were getting fussy, presumably because you're too tired, and he will have to deal with a grumpy child tonight.
"No? You don't want to, darling? Why not? It's so late...," Qifrey glances at the clock for effect, "Are you not tired?"
"No!"
"No?
"No!"
"Ah! Alright, alright. Shh, let's not get too loud, okay?" he gives you a tender smile as he puts his pointer finger against your lips.
"I'm not loud...!"
"Hm... no? Okay... well, let's get you-," your master reaches out for you, trying to pick you up, but to no avail as you swiftly lunge away from him.
"I'm not going to bed!" you basically yell at him while trying to run away from the room.
Your run wasn't that long. In fact, your short legs weren't even able to clear the stairs before your master picked you up and hoisted you up onto his arms.
Such action stuck your heart, making you even more upset. Of course, Qifrey anticipated it and wasn't surprised when your little hands pushed against him, nor was he surprised when you whined and pulled on his robes.
He simply kept his grip firm, but not hurtful, and carried you to his room, gently shushing you along the way.
"Let me go! I don't wanna go to bed!" you whine, your eyes prickling with hot tears.
"Shh, don't yell-"
"No! I don't want to! Let me go! Let me go!" the volume raises.
"Darling-"
"NO!"
"Quiet," came a firm, chilling command from your master, who didn't seem to be smiling even a little bit anymore, "What did I say? You mustn't yell. It's too late."
He sets you down on the edge of his bed and crouches down, holding your shoulders. Staring straight into your eyes, Qifrey saw the tears threatening to fall from your eyes and he saw the way you were startled by his strictness.
"You're allowed to be upset, darling. You're allowed to express yourself. But not by shouting. Tell me, is your master yelling at you?" he continues in his unwavering tone.
Once you shake your head, he speaks again: "Exactly. You wouldn't like that, would you? It wouldn't be nice for me to shout at you. And it's not nice when you shout at me either. So no more yelling, okay?"
"...o-okay," you sniffle.
"Again, you can be upset. And you can tell you're upset and that you don't want to go to bed. I will gladly listen, my love. But it's late. And it's bedtime, and you know that. So we will go get ready for bed, okay?" Qifrey softened a little, but still made sure you felt the gravity of his words.
As the tears spilled, he didn't wait even a second. You were back in his arms as he rubbed circles into your back.
"Shh, it's okay. I know. You don't want to sleep. But it's so late, we can't be playing anymore. But we could do something else, okay? We don't have to fall asleep straight away. I could read you a story or sing to you," he murmured, interrupting himself to give you kisses to your temple, "Or I could even show you some kind spells, hm? Would you like that, my darling?"
Qifrey relaxes as he feels the little nod against his shoulder. When the two of you reach your room, he sets you down on your bed.
Qifrey worked fast. Changing you into your pyjamas while regularly giving you kisses to calm those sniffles of yours.
Soon enough, your dear master brought you back to his room. This time, you were ready for bed. Changed clothes, brushed hair and dry face, that your master dried with napkins.
He settled you down into his bed and sat beside you. Qifrey let you nuzzle into him, only laying his arm around you when you were properly nestled into him.
"There we go, my love. This is much nicer, no? Here, let me read to you," the sweet, low voice of Qifrey was back as he picked the book up and opened it where the two of you left off.
The delicate whispers of your master slowly lulled you into sleep, calming the fussy storm inside you.
˗ˏˋ ★ ― OLRUGGIO ‼
It truly was a wonder how much work Olruggio had to do. His poor old bones moaned every time he moved, and even so, he managed to finish three commissions today. Which didn't seem like a lot, but it truly was.
"Haaaah!" the sore man let out as he stretched, feeling the pain in his tired muscles. Looking to the side, he could see the sun was about the set. Hm. He should go get dinner set up.
And so the exhausted man got up and headed towards the kitchen.
You on the other hand, were curled up on the floor, holding onto your wooden horsey. You've, practically, stopped playing an hour ago. Now, you were barely moving the toy around.
It was too long. You felt tired and hungry, but you didn't want to break Olruggio out of his work. And even though you wanted to be good Olruggio, your little brain couldn't help but get foggy with glumness.
In truth, you kind of felt like he was being real mean. Ignoring you the whole day for some dumb commissions. You were way cuter than some bum papers. And it was way more fun to spend time with you as well!
The grip on your wooden horsey tightens as you subconsciously frown. It wasn't fair!
Small huffs left you while you scrambled up onto your feed and ran towards Olruggio's bookshelves. There was a little nook between one of the bookshelves and the railings where you perfectly fit.
Curled up in the small space, your face falls into your knees. It felt so unfair. You were his apprentice! You deserved his attention.
But then again, you didn't want to bother him. His work was important for him. He did it a lot...
"Haah, next time I'm in the Great Hall, I'm buying myself a massage," rumbles Olruggio's voice. The man was speaking to himself as he came back into the atelier, holding a tray with two bowls of stew.
He walked up the stairs, back onto the elevated platform that held most of the atelier's furniture. He set the tray down at his desk before looking around.
"Now, where's that little one?" Olruggio hummed to himself as he walked off again, searching for you.
His mission went on for quite some time, he even returned to Qifrey's atelier to check if you weren't there by any chance. But when he couldn't find you there either, he was getting real worried.
Where were you?
"Sweetheart?! Are you here?" his concerned voice rang out through the room as he arrived back. It was clear that he was stressed out.
You shift a bit, trying to ease the ache that sitting in this one position left you in. Olruggio's eyes spot the movement. He instantly sighed in relief.
"There you are! I was gettin' worried, sweetheart!" he weakly chuckles as he crouches down in front of you, "We're you here the whole time?"
Obviously, you don't answer, your anger brewing inside you.
"...hello? Ah... okay. Come, you must be starving. I have dinner for ya, kid!" your master tried to shrug it off for now, thinking that perhaps you were too hungry to speak.
But when you didn't follow his lead, even as he walked away from the bookshelf, Olruggio froze. What's up with you?
"Sweetheart?" the man walks back to you.
Nothing.
"C'mon, now. Don't do me like that, kid. Why don't you talk to me?" your master tries again. And, again, you don't answer. You felt too angry for that.
"Kid. This is ridiculous. You haven't eaten in hours, come," Olruggio sighs and reaches down for you. Which only makes you push his hands away.
"I- Fine then! If you want to be hungry...!" his hands fly up to mock surrender before he goes back to his stew.
He really tried to eat and ignore you, but he just couldn't. Not even for five whole minutes. He knew kids were stubborn as hell, he wasn't sure why he even tried this idiotic tactic.
"...Kid?"
"..."
"Please, kid. You are hungry. I know you are. C'mon. Come eat.
"..."
"Alright, enough of this," a sigh leaves him. Soon enough, he's back in front of you, his hands heading towards you. This time, he doesn't relent. He lifts you up and pulls you out of that stupid corner.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Yer mad at me. Just eat something, sweetheart," Olruggio hummed while you attempted to push him away.
He set you down on the cushion and handed you the other bowl. Only when you finally gave into your hunger, and started to eat, did he sit down as well and pick up his dinner.
"So, what's got you all so grumpy?" he asks once he finishes his food, "Ah! Don't give me such a nasty look! Sorry, kid. But you have to tell me what's wrong. Only then I can fix it...!"
"...why don't you fix your stupid commissions!" you bit back at him, the food giving you some strength.
Your words startle Olruggio. He didn't expect him to be the very problem. But now, looking back at the day, you must've wanted to play with him real bad.
A frown appears on his face. He felt like an idiot. You were his apprentice, he shouldn't have spent the whole day cooped up with some damn papers.
"Ah... I see. I'm sorry, sweetheart, I-... um... master was being a real meanie, wasn't he? Leaving you with your toys...," Olruggio's voice was soft, very apologetic as he looked at you.
But even if his apology did make you a little happier, you were still very upset over it. How could he?
"Such a look... 'Suppose I deserve it though. Com'ere, little one. Let's go to bed, yeah? You look so tired," you swore that Olruggio pouted as he said the words.
Before you could protest beyond a whine, you found yourself back in his arms. Not for long though, as he put you up onto his bed, before he followed suit.
"Lay down. I'll show ya some of those fire spells, hm? You love those, no?" Olruggio pulled the covers around you, tucking you in.
"Hmm," he looked at you, pondering. Something was missing, wasn't it? A kiss, of course! And so, he leaned down and pressed a long kiss against your forehead before he took out his palm squire to draw a spell that might appease you.
˗ˏˋ ★ ― BELDARUIT ‼
Down, underneath the sea, in the Great Hall, sat the Wise of Teachings in his goat-horned chair. Pondering with his head in his hand, he looked over the scenery before him.
Beldaruit didn't mean to really leave his quarters today, but out of worry, he had to go look at something different than his room.
A sigh pushed past his lips, thinking about his dearest little one. Lately, you got enamoured with the spells. Always wanting to learn more. It wasn't a bad thing, but you were so young. Seeing you even deny playtime was quite hard for him.
Perhaps it seemed ridiculous, but playtime was an important time! Beldaruit always wanted his apprentices to learn and grown, not just academically, but all around too.
What's more, today you almost didn't even come to dinner because of your spells. It all made him think that he should postpone studying for a bit.
"Hm, my little sweetling...," Beldaruit sorrowfully murmured to himself, turning around and heading back to his quarters. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to get you to play a bit.
Your small body was hunched over your desk, drawing sigils over and over again. You wanted to be the best apprentice ever!
The clicks of hooves against the stone floors were quite resounding, but you didn't seem to notice them anyway. The thing that actually brought you out of your focus was a gentle hand softly pinching your cheek.
"Ignoring me, are we, little one?" Beldaruit chuckled as he watched your surprised face turn towards him.
"Um- no! I was just...," your gaze lands back on your papers.
"Ah, I know, I know! It was a jest. Don't fret, sweetling," the man's hand comes down to tenderly caress your head. Weren't you just so cute?
"Hm, would you let me take a look?" Beldaruit opens his palm towards you. You promptly take your papers and give them to him. Of course, you wanted to keep practicing, but he was your master. It would help to get his feedback, obviously!
Looking over the papers filled with sigils, your master hums to himself. You were getting better day by day.
"My, my, sweetling! You're so talented. I couldn't be more proud to have such an apprentice like you!" he ruffles your hair cheerfully.
"Thank you, master!" the praise makes you giggle as you reach out for the papers. But, to your surprise, Beldaruit doesn't give them to you.
"It's so late, little one. Mayhaps... we should go do something else. Wouldn't you like to play?" he gives you a soft smile.
"Um... I'd rather draw spells...," your little hands try to grab the papers again.
"But you've been practicing all this time. Let's play, okay?"
"No! I want to draw!"
"Sweetling, I really think it's time to take a break."
"Well, I think it's time you leave!" you huff and turn around, almost stomping out of anger. You give up on those papers and rather pull out a clean one from your desk.
"Is that any way to talk to your master, sweetling?" a larger hand envelopes your own as you pick up your pen, stopping your actions.
"Well- I-... I don't care! I-," you weren't even all that sure what you were saying, you just felt upset and your mouth was moving, "I don't wanna play! Go away."
"Hm, but I think it's enough for today. We don't have to play if you truly don't want to. But you have to let your brain rest, my little love," Beldaruit pulls the pen out of your hand.
Frantic words and cries followed as you got up and grabbed his hand, attempting to pry the pen free.
"No! Give it back! It's my pen! Give it back!" tears spilled from your eyes as you pulled and pulled on your master's hand. He, in turn, didn't relent, keeping the grip around the pen tight.
He didn't shush you. Beldaruit only watched you, a tender look on his face, with a hint of exasperation. He lets you sob and cry your heart out. Only when your words turned into loud sobs did he move his hand away from you.
The pen and papers were discarded atop your desk, but were blocked off from you with his chair. Beldaruit's hands cup your cheeks.
"Shh, sweetling, shh. It's okay. Breathe for me, okay?" his thumbs gently caressing your face. When you still refuse to take a deep breath, your body preoccupied with sobbing, he blows on your face, making you take a breath.
"It's alright, little one. Come here, okay? Don't you want a hug, hm?" Beldaruit gently guides you closer, while still leaving enough room for you to pull away if you didn't want the hug.
To his delight, you climb up onto his chair and settle into his lap. His arms wrap around you and pull you close. His left hand even settles on your head and pushes your face into the crook of his neck, letting you cry into him.
"Shh, everything is okay, my little love. Oh, you're just so tired, aren't you? My poor love. Having so many big emotions while being exhausted must be very hard," the sweet voice of your master soothes you while he carries you to his room.
"There, there. Papa's right here," he hums as he rubs circles into your back. Pressing multiple kisses to your head, he soothes you further.
Once the two of you reach his room, he pulls you back a little, only to take a napkin and quickly wipe your face.
"Don't cry anymore, sweetling. It's all okay," he quietly whispers at you.
"I- I was mean to- to you... 'm... 'm sorry-," you say in between your sniffles.
"Shh, I know. I know. It's okay. Papa forgives you. You just had some big feelings, didn't you? My poor love," your master quickly shushes you before those sniffles turn to another round of sobs.
"But... if you would like to make it up to me, you could get on that big bed of mine and let me hug you. It would make me feel really happy if you allowed me to," another kiss comes your way, this time to your cheek.
With small nods, you slowly move and get onto his bed. The old man soon follows, setting himself on the bed and covering the two of you with the cover.
"Hm, my sweetling," he quietly gushes over you as you hug him tightly, nuzzling into his side. You were just so cute!
Beldaruit reciprocated your hug, securely holding you against him, his hand sneaking into your hair. He gently plays with your hair, listening to your breathing even out as you fall asleep.
"Goodnight, my little love."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
⋮ ♯; ⤷ Thank you for reading!! Hope you enjoyed. .ᐟ
contents : qifrey x gn!reader, suggestive towards the end, though no explicit content, reader is hard at work, caring Qifrey, cheeky Qifrey, pretty much fluff, Qifrey just wants his partner to relax, they both match each other’s freak, no spoilers!
w/c : 1.1k
There were days when you simply couldn’t be at the atelier, no matter how badly you yearned to stay cooped up in your lover’s arms while eating his cooking.
It wasn’t your fault, no, work simply had to come first sometimes. Whilst already exhausted, clients would write to you even when you had said you were taking a break. The list of people that had you on speed dial was astonishing.
One of your favorite parts about travelling was visiting the local market. While browsing through the wide display of shops and stalls, there seemed to be an endless amount of trinkets or contraptions that reminded you of home, the atelier in which your life resided.
Bracelets themed after the seasons for the girls, a new pillow for Olruggio, and the finest jewellery for your beloved. You were never stingy with money when it came to him. Sometimes you felt as though your purpose in life was to provide Qifrey with the best.
There was no doubt you doted on him and the rest, as you would come back home with a bag full of requested items and other such souvenirs. And every time you opened the door, without fail, a familiar snow-haired man would be waiting inside.
The same smile on his face, the same subtle wrinkle below his eye as he smiled. He would press a kiss against your cheek and welcome you home, taking your bags for you while already making conversation.
That was your favorite part about work. Coming back home.
You thought today would follow the same routine, the one that you cherished deeply. Little did you know, the same one who hugged and kissed you goodbye at the door every time you left, had something special in mind for the day.
You had come home later than usual. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake — after all, it was past midnight. The door creaked as you pushed it open, awfully loud compared to the silence of the atelier.
Your boots thudded against the hardwood floor. Then, you slipped off your cloak and hat and hung them over your arm. In the distance, you could hear the quiet crackle of the fireplace. The usual sound of home.
As you turned around the corner, a singular lit candle was placed on the dining table. No figure to be seen. Maybe someone had forgotten to blow it out, you thought. Along your way you went, climbing the few stairs towards the living room.
The warmth of the huge fireplace hit you immediately, like a heated blanket over your figure. There, though, is where you could see the easily recognisable figure of none other than Qifrey, sat on the plush sofa.
You were a little shocked he was awake at this hour. He cupped a mug in his hands, slender fingers curling over the surface you confirmed to be your own. A satisfied hum left the other’s lips as your footsteps approached, head turning towards the direction of the sound.
That one mesmerising blue eye stared you up and down, a gentle tug at his lips that formed into the smile you had embroidered in your head. “[Name], if it isn’t the person I’ve been waiting for!” He stood up, perhaps too quickly, and enthusiastically wrapped an arm around your back. His fingers lingered for a heartbeat too long, dragging out the touch of his fingertips.
“Here, have a cup of your favourite brew,” He took your bag from your hand, replacing it with the warm mug that fit perfectly in your palm. “You’re later than usual. The way back to the atelier must’ve been rough, hmm?” That sweet tone of voice made your heart melt instantly. Even while talking through the teleslate daily, it didn’t quite convey his voice as perfectly as it sounded in person.
“Mm, some roads were blocked, so I had to take a few detours,” You hummed groggily in response, gently throwing your cloak and hat over the armrest before wrapping the free arm around his slim figure. By instinct, you pressed a kiss against his pale cheeks and threw your face into his body.
A soft chuckle emerged from Qifrey’s figure as he put your bag down by the sofa and held you close. In that moment, everything seemed so innocent. But the way he giggled a little too loudly was a tiny bit off-putting, though you didn’t care enough to mind.
After a sweet moment, his hands unwrapped themselves from around your body and instead took your free hand into his. He smiled a little wider now, taking slow steps and leading you towards the sofa.
The light of the fireplace illuminates his figure as he gently pushes you onto the cushion of the sofa, drink swirling in your mug from the impact. You sit with your eyes widened slightly, watching each of Qifrey’s micro moves with a close eye. You place the mug over on the armrest before running your hands up his waist.
He spreads your legs open just enough for his knee to fit through, pressing just against the spot you want him most. He towers over you, leaning in to press a kiss onto your eye. His white robes draped across your lap, an arm reaching to pin you in place, while the other snakes up the warmth of your neck.
Qifrey stays close to your face. You can feel his breath — you might as well be breathing each other’s air. He smiles so sweetly at you, as if he doesn’t have you just where he wants you. One of your hands reaches up to the collar of his turtleneck, hooking a finger under the tight, black fabric and tugging him slightly closer.
“You’ve been so busy with work lately, dearest,” His words hang heavy in the present tension between you two. He was tempting you, and it was working like a charm. “If you promise to stay quiet, I can help you relieve some stress.”
He pressed another kiss against the corner of your lips. He pulls back and looks down at your lovestruck figure, staring up at him like he was holy. You bite at your bottom lip, an infectious smile slowly tugging onto them.
“Impress me, Qifrey.”
The mug sits forgotten, the carefully prepared brew growing cold the longer it’s left unattended.
a/n : I have had to reformat this brick by brick like. 7 times. but alas the torment is over. second fic ever!!!! yay!!!!! if this is well received then I can perhaps write a part 2…if anyone is interested!!!!! if orufrey is anyone’s cup of tea then you can imagine reader as Olruggio if you’d like🥹💗 anywho, thank you for reading!!!
Qifrey arrives drenched from head to toe in the middle of a nasty thunderstorm looking for a way to drown out the noise in his head.
wc: 3.7k
cw/notes: SMUT BELOW THE CUT!!!
the song that spawned this was Love Me More - Mitski, very qifrey imo. i cannot take the angst away from this man no matter how hard i try 😭😭 for some reason, i need him to reflect the manga and his Condition at all times so i decided to keep him in his soggy wet clothes during canoodling,,,
this is my first time writing smut ummmm, it may be terrible it may be the same quality as the rest of my writing!! who knows!! i hope u guys enjoy either way
Tags: smut, pwp, switch qifrey, female reader, angst, hurt/comfort, manhandling, dry humping, wet humping?? he is soaking wet, making out, kissing, dacryphilia kind of, praise, condescending qifrey, L bombs, pathetic qifrey, pathetic top qifrey, established relationship, aftercare
The atmosphere is heavy outside, squalls of biting air rattle at your windows, seeking entry. Thunder booms and resonates with an overwhelming oppression of dark clouds and pelting rain. There isn’t a ray of light to be found, there hasn't been for a while and it's doubtful that there will be any time soon. Each violent clap in the clouds jolts your senses, making your body jump in surprise despite being snuggled up on the window seat.
Bundled in your blanket with a book in hand, the fire crackling in your hearth helps to keep you warm and cozy despite the horrible weather. Such a tumultuous storm is rare these days, and you're not as used to the sounds of thunder as you used to be. Every loud bang grips at your body like it's signalling for you to run and hide, but there is nowhere to go, nor is there a need to be scared. You're safe, tucked away in your cozy little house in the plains near a village and half a day's travel away from a certain witch's atelier.
Your mind drifts to him. This weather won't be doing him any favours. A pang of sympathy tightens your expression for a moment, before you push the emotion away and stand in search of a warm drink.
Before you can make it to the kitchen however, a loud thumping echoes through the entryway and you pause mid stride to watch the door. A beat passes without anything else sounding, and you're ready to chalk it up to the wind, but just as you pull a mug from the cupboard, another round of knocks drums against the wood.
“Coming!” Who the hell is stupid enough to be out in this type of weather? You wonder, lightly jogging to reach the front entrance and unlock it.
Pulling the door open against the will of the draft with a little difficulty, you're greeted by a mess of white fabric whipping around in the wind and flicking water all over the place.
“Qifrey? Wh—”
Within seconds of the door opening, he's on you.
Freezing skin and sodden clothes slam against your warm and dry body in a desperate surge of need. His hands cup your head, palms holding just below your ears to steady your head when he crashes his lips against your own. The force of him causes you to lose your balance, stumbling backwards, but Qifrey catches you, lacing one arm around your waist and hauling your body in a spin with his own until your back hits the wall. He doesn't separate from you for even a second, hungrily plucking out and swallowing every noise or breath that manages to climb free of your throat and onto his tongue.
His lips are relentless—you've never seen him this desperate in your life and it's like you barely even have a choice in what's going on. Qifrey is a gentle lover, mostly. Despite being a little mean or condescending sometimes, he doesn't get rough and he certainly hasn't manhandled you in such a way before, even when you ask he's refused. This little encounter has gotten you more worked up than you'd like to admit.
He has you trapped against the wall by the entrance to your home, forearm bracing next to your head up against the chilly cement while the other remains wrapped around your waist. The door bangs against the bricks near you, carelessly left open by your uninvited but not unwelcome guest. Rain splashes inside, coating the entryway in a rapidly growing puddle.
A mewl from your own throat surprises you, and your bearings rebalance with the sound.
His teeth nip at your lips, followed by a pass of his tongue before he groans, heaving a breath against your skin and diving back in. It's hard to keep up with. Every action has your mind spinning with an amalgamation of questions and wants that should definitely not be mixed together. You push your head forward, kissing him back a little harder, testing whether he'll relent at all but the man doesn't even notice. He's too frenzied, sucking your tongue into his mouth lewdly and letting your nails dig into his sopping wet clothes.
“I'm,” he breathes parting briefly, “Sorry.” With a rough voice he continues his kiss broken sentence, “please… let me… have this…”
All you can respond with is a whiney keen of his name against his skin as you manage to wiggle one arm up to press your palm against the top of his throat. Your hand presses there, and he moans into your mouth. The sound almost breaks your resolve to have an actual conversation with your partner, but the uncomfortable feeling of his dripping clothes sliding against your own is just enough to push you over the fence. Tightening your hold on his neck, you push and he has to gasp. Before he can resume his impulsive make-out, you turn your face away, making his lips hit your cheek instead. A much more appropriate greeting.
“What—” you hiss, looking him in the eye, “what the hell?”
He stares at you, panting, and you glare at him. Every breath lingers in the space shared between your bodies in some sort of intimate anger, mingling before being split and sucked back in.
It's a little harder to be angry with him than you anticipated. That warm, pulsing sensation between your legs is not doing you any favours. Having him take such complete control like that was so different and new and sexy that you regret stopping him a little—only a little, though, because the look of lust on his flushed face is something that you wouldn't dream of missing.
“Qifrey, what's this all about?” You ask, voice croaky. “Did something happen?”
A long and shaky exhale slips from him but just as you think he's about to speak, he shakes his head. Whatever he's thinking about must be painful. His eyebrows knit tightly together and his eyes squeeze shut, blocking or processing something in his thoughts. His lower lip gets sucked into his mouth, and his teeth press into the plump flesh hard. Hard enough to send a spark of genuine worry up your spine but your frustration with his lack of response is too great to be overwhelmed so easily.
Your eyes drift down his body, and you let your hands move to his cloak, unhooking the centre clasp and dropping it onto the ground. The smokey fabric pools heavily at his feet and he opens his eye again to look over at you.
His gaze remains on your face, watching your focus shift from him to the open door and then finally to somewhere behind him. You look tense. He isn't exactly shocked, and a tiny bit of guilt creeps into his belly over basically jumping you. Your eyes find his gaze again, before Qifrey can make any more decisions, you grip the white fabric of his sleeves, tugging him towards you before shoving him backwards.
Slamming the front door finally, you stride after him, silent as he flounders, sputtering out a rapid string of apologies.
“M-My dear! My actions have been completely unacceptable—I can't apologise enough. I fully understand your anger, please, allow me to explain—ah!”
Qifrey yelps when his legs hit the sofa, and he topples over backwards, landing on the cushions with a heavy thump. Shame fills his expression when he gains his balance back, but before he can say anything else, it's your turn to pounce on him.
Shoving his shoulders back against the comfort of the various pillows and blankets that call your couch home, you drop your body onto his lap, straddling him despite the horrible cold damp of his skirt that permeates through your own. He groans, letting his head tip backwards and gripping your waist, thoroughly enjoying the weight of your body on top of his own.
Despite his panicked spiel, you know Qifrey would barely explain his situation, if he even tried to be truthful at all. The thought forces a sigh from your nose. Clicking your tongue, you slide your hands over his shoulders, feeling over the slim but toned planes of his biceps before you droop your head and take his lips against your own. His body is tense with his own frustrations, and he only tightens at the resumed contact.
“You're ruining my fucking furniture, Qifrey—” you hiss, tugging at his hair and ripping a broken whine from his pretty neck.
“I'm sorry—”
“Getting it soaking wet—”
“I'm sorry—”
“Stop it.” Gripping his jaw in your grasp, you force his attention onto your face, “stop apologising and do something.”
Your partner almost gawks at you. If Qifrey wasn't aroused before, he certainly was now.
“...Yes ma'am,” he mumbles, almost purrs, before pressing his hand against your lower back and urging you to move impossibly closer to him. His other hand ghosts over your side, making contact only with his fingertips before gripping your hip with strength he usually keeps barred away. A noise of discomfort rumbles in your chest.
Another kiss begins, hungry and desperate and aching. Your hands slide over his body, feeling him through that frustratingly tight bodysuit he flaunts himself around in. The touch makes him sigh, and he lets you push the baggy white sleeves of his dress off of his shoulders, letting go of your body briefly to unhook his harms from the fabric before feeling up your body again.
Starting from your thighs, he slips his hands under your skirt and squeezes the soft flesh that's hidden from sight. Your response is a little whine into his mouth and to let your hands rest near his neck, massaging his traps. Next, he moves his slender fingers up your sides, groping at your body, gently but firmly laying claim over every single inch he can reach until finally resting his travelling at your hips once more.
Qifrey pulls towards himself, "Darling, move your hips,” he encourages, pleads, breathless against your swollen lips.
Unable to resist him when he sounds so needy, you oblige and begin to roll your hips. The friction pulls light moans from you both, and he slides his body down the cushions, pushing his thighs out to spread your legs more. His hips push up, grinding himself up against your heat and gripping the back of your neck, beginning to take control again. His body shudders under you, faltering slightly every other time your weight shifts just right against him to catch his hardness through the layers of robes.
Rolling against him, you let murmurs babble from your lips, dripping down between his own as his head falls back against the back of the sofa. Your name slips from his mouth, and his hands aid you with a mind of their own, guiding your movements to roll more deliberately.
“That's it…” he sighs, eyeing your expression with an underlying predatory intent. “So good, so good, such a good girl.”
The pang of lust that tightens in your lower belly after his words makes you leak into your underwear. Your forehead falls against his shoulder and his palm cradles the back of your neck while he mutters and pants against your ear.
“Come on, sweetheart, you can move more than that, right?” He goads, feeling your movements stutter. You nod. The sensation of his hand at the back of your head, fingers grazing up and down your scalp, makes a pleasant tingle spread across your skin.
Moving with more purpose, you grind yourself down over the growing lump in his layered robes—it's at times like these you curse the fact that he always wears three layers of clothing on his lower half. You bite his lip, earning a jolt from his hips and a breathy whine, before licking over the plump skin.
“Like this?” You mewl.
It gets harder to concentrate with every roll of your body, the friction isn't giving you the relief that you've worked yourself up to craving and each noise that comes from your man makes you dizzier and needier. Qifrey pushes your hips down, rutting himself up against you, meeting you in the middle and blindly taking the pleasure he wanted since before entering your home today.
“I want—”
“My love,” he interrupts, suddenly wrapping his arms around you securing you in place, “forgive me for what I'm about to do.”
Before you even have a chance to register his words through the hazy arousal, your back hits the seat with enough force to expel an ‘oof’ from your chest.
Qifrey's hands are on you within seconds, like if he stops contact he'll physically implode. Strong fingers hook into the waistband of your skirt, and he wiggles it over your hips and yanks it off of your legs with newfound impatience. A squeak leaves you when the brisk air hits your warm skin, and you squirm each time the still damp, cold fabric of Qifrey's clothes brushes against you.
Your knees knock together when you close your legs, embarrassed and chilly. Your lover's eyes squint down at you but he doesn't speak. Instead, he unfastens his belt, letting it drop to the floor with your skirt, and then slips free of his dress. His bodysuit and trousers have always looked a little uncomfortable to you, but you suppose that's the goal. Either way, it's still an attractive look, with the black and tight fabric fastened around his thighs and drawing your gaze to his crotch.
“Someone's excited,” you puff out a laugh. The shape of his length is undeniable through the cotton pants and you lift your leg to nudge your foot against it. He sucks in a sharp breath at the contact, almost as if it's painful. Maybe it is, with how hard he is it wouldn't be a shocking revelation. “Maybe I should be a little harsh with you more often.”
He hums, an agreeable sound, “Perhaps.”
He pulls your foot away from his pelvis and leans down slightly, kissing your ankle with a tenderness that seems almost misplaced after he's thrown you around more than once during this encounter. His kisses tickle, light and quick brushes of his lips around flesh that isn't usually the centre of attention. His hand slides down your leg, making the muscles twitch under the tingly sensation.
“I'm not the only one who's a little overexcited, though,” he breathes out, brushing his fingertips over the damp patch on your underwear. His gaze is dark, and it's at that moment you realise he isn't here to be played with anymore. The look Qifrey is giving you always comes before he decides to be selfish and it only serves to make you more excited, which he of course notices.
“Oh, so receptive, my dear girl,” he purrs, pressing his thumb on the wet patch over your entrance and dragging his thumb up. He watches the darkness spread under his touch, ignoring the way you squirm as he slowly circles the area, only occasionally brushing over your clit before retracting his hand to tend to himself.
Unwrapping the black garters, and unravelling the neck of his top, he slips free of the bodysuit with a sigh of relief, dropping the waterlogged fabric with an air of finality. He then finally tugs the waistband of his pants back and pulls himself out, squeezing the base with a groan.
Your teeth sink into your lip at the sight of just how hard he is—tip red and leaky and so swollen you're shocked he hasn't cum in his pants. He doesn't allow himself to touch for very long, not even a few seconds pass before he has his hands wrapped around the tops of your thighs and he drags your body across the cushions so that you're flush against him between his legs.
Qifrey makes quick work of your sticky knickers, letting his cock sit against your swollen lips. It's hot, and heavier than you remember as he slides it through your folds and tugs a pathetic noise from your lips unbidden. You want to wiggle, but the position he has you in makes it almost impossible to move and take what you want
“Qi—”
“I know, I know,” he dotes, speaking softly, shushing your whimper, while he practically folds you in half underneath him. Your ankle is still up at his shoulder, while your other leg is hooked around his waist with the backs of your thighs and your ass pressed flush against his hips.
“Make sure you breathe this time, hm?” Is all the warning you get before he pushes the fat head of his dick inside with a silent moan. His jaw falls open and his eyes slide shut, relishing in the way your tight heat envelopes him.
The stretch stings; it's been a while since you've been intimate with Qifrey, given his duties and living situation, meaning that once you're used to the shape of him, he has to pull back for longer than either of you would like.
Your nails dig into his arms to mitigate some of the tension. There's no sound from either of you until he bottoms out, grinding himself inside you before massaging your calf and beginning to move with shallow thrusts. Each one hits a spot deep inside, sending almost painfully pleasurable bolts of electricity through your stomach.
“Breathe,” he repeats, but he doesn't let up.
His right palm presses down on your lower belly, eliciting a cracked moan from your lips, letting yourself relax into his treatment. Tears form in the corners of your eyes at the tight sensation of his weight holding you down, making you feel every vein and throb of his cock fucking into you.
“That's it, well done,” he pants. His voice trembles, clearly struggling just as much as you, “s-such a—oh, god.”
Qifrey, despite himself, can't get the sentence out. As much as he wants to be in control of himself, of the situation, the way your cunt is gripping him is making it almost impossible for him to think, let alone speak properly. The slapping of skin and lewd squelching of juices only make it harder to concentrate on giving you something to ground yourself onto as he usually does.
Pretty moans drip from his lips, mixing with your own sobs that rip from your chest each time he slams into you a little harder, a little faster, a little more recklessly and unrestrained. It's not long before you start babbling and sobbing out incoherent strings of words.
A rare curse slips from his lips as he leans over you, anchoring a strong hand onto the arm of the sofa behind your head as he snaps his hips against you. With his build, you forget that Qifrey is considerably stronger than you ever remember, despite being around him for many years. The angle and weight of his body lend themselves to aid in his newfound endeavour of absolutely ruining you in the living room, ploughing his length into you and messing up your poor furniture even more as your arousal leaks out, oozing down your ass and soaking into the soft cushion below.
Sweat clings to his forehead, re-dampening his fluffy white locks and making him look like a debouched mess. Lifting a hand, you lace your fingers into the mess of strands, pushing them from his eye before dropping it to hold his wrist where he’s pressing indents into the fat of your inner thigh with how tightly his fingers are gripping onto you. You’re going to be sore tomorrow.
“I love you,” Qifrey grunts in reverence, repeating the phrase over and over again, trying to drill it into your brain, making you accept just how overwhelmed he is with sheer adoration of your entire being.
“I love—I love you,” you choke, voice high and tight, just like how your walls are clenching and throbbing around him, sucking him inside and trying to keep him there until your body is done with him. Your toes curl, your legs locking and stiffening up as your orgasm builds.
“‘m close—you feel so good, I can't.”
“It's okay,” Leaning down, he hovers his lips above yours again, waiting to kiss you. “Cum for me, I need it.”
“Qif—ah!” You practically shriek when the knot in your core snaps. The force of your release makes your muscles tighten before your legs kick out, trying to shake out the amount of pleasure that's exploding inside of you. Slapping his biceps, you cry into his mouth as he steals hungry kisses from you. A broken wail rips from his own throat, cumming inside you from the feeling of your own pleasure overwhelming his mind completely.
“Thank you,” he rasps, blubbering, “thank you, my sweet. My perfect girl.” His hips continue to grind into you until the both of you are overstimulated, making sure he wrings every last drop of pleasure from your body.
Dropping your leg from his shoulder, he lets it rest over his hip. He shifts to lay over you, careful not to jostle you too much while he settles.
With heavy eyelids, you blink up at him, too tired and floppy to really speak much. So, instead, you cradle his face with your palms, letting your thumbs trace over his flushed cheeks. His own hand strokes through your hair, sliding down to thumb at your bitten lip.
“Are you alright?” He whispers, guilt already creeping through him.
You nod, humming in content, unaware of his building inner turmoil. Your body feels like jelly, boneless and worn out despite barely doing any of the work. Tracing your nails over his skin slowly, you lift your head with more effort than you’d like to admit, bumping your nose against his in a little kunik.
“Are you okay?” You reflect his concern, dropping your head back down with a huff of air.
“I am,” he confirms, kissing your forehead, “of course.”
“You’re still wet…” Pouting, you shift a leg, toeing at his half dry pants.
“So are you, quite wet, actually.”
“Qifrey!” You shove his shoulder and giggles erupt from the both of you, sinking back into a more relaxed atmosphere.
“If you stay damp you’ll get sick, and we can’t have that. Will you shower with me?”
He cocks his head to the side, considering your offer with a slow inhale. “Alright, we can warm up together. Perhaps the water will be less suffocating with you there.”
